Angelica (47 page)

“They haven't left, then,” Gaaron said to Adriel. “We had hoped—there've been no reports—and this is bad.”

“They've never attacked a place so big before,” Neri said.

“That we know of,” Gaaron corrected.

Adriel shook her head. “I've sent out patrols every day. Everything's been safe.”

“Nothing's safe,” Gaaron said grimly.

“I've got to get back to Monteverde,” Neri said.

“Can you give me coordinates?” Gaaron asked Nicholas. The younger angel nodded.

“Draw you a map,” he said.

Susannah stepped forward before Gaaron could speak again, putting a hand on his arm. “Zack,” she said.

His head snapped back; he had actually forgotten. “Sweet Jovah singing,” he swore. “Enoch—find Chloe and Zibiah, and meet me on the plateau in half an hour. We've got to pick up Zack and Jude and the women they're traveling with. Pack for a journey to Monteverde.”

“If you're coming my way, I can travel with you, and carry one of them back,” Neri offered.

Gaaron shook his head. “We'll move too slowly. You just go.”

“What should I do?” Nicholas asked.

“Make me a map, and then sleep,” Gaaron said.

“I can't stay,” Adriel said.

Gaaron leaned over to kiss her soft cheek. Again, she looked haggard, as she had from time to time in the past year. Not nearly as carefree and pleased with herself as she had appeared last night. He would infinitely prefer the laughter of the previous night to the seriousness of this hour. “Go,”
he said. “Stop in the kitchens and take food. I am gone from here within the hour.”

The Archangel turned to the Edori, holding her hands out. Susannah ignored them, and instead threw her arms around Adriel, giving her a warm hug. “You are a delightful girl,” Gaaron heard Adriel murmur into the black hair. “We will meet again soon, and next time there will be no disasters to end our visit this way.”

Susannah also hugged Neri, though Gaaron suspected the embrace was a little less fervent. It was much easier to like Adriel. “Soon,” Neri promised Susannah. “It was good to meet you at last.”

They scattered, Gaaron hurrying to his room to put on his heaviest flying gear and pack a couple of changes of clothes. How could he have been so stupid as to put the young boys of the hold in such danger? Yes, he had made sure that his own patrols followed the travelers' slow progress, and all had appeared to be well, at least from the air, but the possibility of true danger had never really occurred to him. He had thought the worst thing that could happen would be that Zack and Jude would desert their charges, though the two women were resourceful enough to make the rest of their journey alone. He had not considered that they might be in actual peril. Like Adriel, he had begun to hope the marauders had left Samaria—and they had never struck this far north before.

But he should have known, he should have thought more carefully, he should never have sent boys out to face hazards so great. He would never forgive himself if one of them came to harm.

Gaaron was on the plateau before the others had assembled, though he thought perhaps Neri had left already, not even bothering to collect her belongings. He was confident that Esther would magically appear, food packed for all four of the Eyrie angels—but instead it was Susannah who came hurrying out of the corridor, her hands filled with packages and her face furrowed with concern.

“For all of you,” she said, handing him the leather pouches. “The women and their babies as well.”

“I'll probably be gone five days or more,” he said.

She nodded, then she shook her head. “Don't be stupid,
Gaaron,” she said, her voice low and forceful.

He was taken completely by surprise. “Don't—what?”

She put her hands up to his arms, as if what she really wanted to do was take his shoulders and give him a good shake. “Don't be stupid—don't blame yourself. You could not have foreseen this,” she said swiftly.

So she had read the self-condemnation on his face, or perhaps she knew him better than he thought. “I am to blame,” he said bitterly. “I knew there was danger in the realm. Terrifying danger. And I sent them out into it—unprepared—alone—”

“The danger did not exist where you sent them. The circumstances changed,” she said. “This is not your fault.”

He stared bleakly down at her. “Tell me that when I return and they are all still alive.”

Now she did try to shake him, her fingers closing hard on his muscles. “You are not responsible for the well-being of every single soul in Samaria! You cannot direct every life and protect every life! You are one man! And you are doing the best job you can.”

“But this was an ill-done job,” he said, pulling away from her. Enoch broke onto the plateau, dressed in heavy flying leathers, and Chloe and Zibiah were right behind him. Everyone looked worried.

“Where were they seen last?” Chloe said. “Do you know?”

Gaaron nodded. “Ahio made his report yesterday. They can't have gotten too far from that point.”

“I think we're ready,” Enoch said.

Gaaron nodded, but Susannah's hand on his arm tugged his attention back to her. She hugged him, as she had hugged the angels, and he was surprised at the strength and energy he derived from her quick embrace. Her arms were sinewy and strong; he could feel the smoothness of her cheek pressed against the fabric of his shirt.

“Do not forget to take care of yourself while you are taking care of the rest of the world,” she said, in a voice so low it was almost a whisper. She drew back from him before he could reply, and gave all of them a quick, comprehensive look. “Travel safely. Yovah hold you in his arms.”

Chloe kissed Susannah on the cheek. “Back soon,” she said. A few more desultory good-byes, and the angels flung themselves aloft.

They flew low to the ground in a spread-out formation, just close enough to call out to the nearest angel should any of them spot anything. Flying was rougher, this close to the surface, but Gaaron didn't want them to miss anything. A burned campsite, a broken body, an overturned cart filled with useless, splintered furniture.

They had not reached the travelers' latest campsite by the time early darkness fell, so they stopped for the night. It would be too easy to miss Zack and the others in the dark. Gaaron hated to stop, but he hated even more to take the blind risk. They found a small inn in a tiny town and bespoke two uncomfortable rooms for the night. Enoch slept poorly, which Gaaron knew because he didn't sleep at all. In the morning, the young women looked heavy-eyed and exhausted. No one said much as they ate a hasty meal and set out again.

The air was cold; it was the start of true winter. There would most certainly be snow up around Monteverde, possibly even farther south. That would make the travelers easier to spot, if they were still on the move. It would make the remains of their bodies more difficult to find, if they were not.

Gaaron shook his head, trying to dislodge the image.

By noon, they had encountered neither snow nor wreckage, and they halted for a quick meal. “How much farther ahead are they, do you think?” Chloe asked.

“I'd guess, no more than another thirty miles,” Gaaron said. “Depending on how much ground they were able to cover yesterday. I would hope we'd find them in the next hour.”

“Couple of little towns east of here,” Enoch mentioned. “If one of them fell sick or they got scared at something, they may have taken shelter there.”

Gaaron nodded. “If we don't find them on the road, we'll double back and check out the towns.”

“Are we going to swing by the settlement? The one Nicky saw?” Chloe asked.

Gaaron shrugged, feeling his wings lift and settle behind him. “No reason to,” he said quietly. “We've seen those sights before.”

Back aloft into the frigid wind. Shards of sleet sliced through the air and across their skin. Gaaron could almost fancy he was collecting an assortment of tiny cuts all along his face and unprotected forearms. His fingers were numb, since he hadn't remembered to bring gloves, and even his feet, usually so comfortable in his leather boots, felt chilled and shrunken.

Better cold and shivering than burned to ashes.

After they had been flying for about twenty minutes, Zibiah, positioned at the westernmost edge of the formation, gave a little cry. They all canted over in her direction to see what she'd spotted. Gaaron's first reaction was one of severe disappointment: It was a large caravan moving at a plodding pace across the hard ground. The travelers were probably Jansai, though Gaaron thought he caught sight of some of the flags of Castelana among the carts and wagons. Gypsies and river merchants choosing to travel together—now that was a rare occurrence. Maybe they were heading to Manadavvi country to work out some mutually agreeable trading contract, or maybe the hard weather had encouraged them to pool their energy and their food stores. Gaaron counted twenty-two separate wagons before he lost track.

Beside the slow-moving twenty-second wagon, he spotted the diaphanous white arch of folded angel wings.

He gave a shout and pointed, immediately angling down for a landing. He was enough in the lead that he was on the ground and striding forward before any of the other three had landed.

Zack—for it was Zack that Gaaron had noted from the air—had seen Gaaron descend, his great wings spread and his big body casting a shadow across the wagon. The younger boy stopped walking, letting the carts and other conveyances roll past him, and he stood there waiting for Gaaron. His shoulders were tense and his head was thrown back; he looked braced for anger, or punishment, or anything.

“Zack!” Gaaron greeted him, his voice sounding stern even to his own ears. “Where are the others—Jude—the women?”

Zack jerked his head in the direction of the wagons. “Clara and Lena are riding with some of the merchants. Jude's gone off to the river to bring back more water. His third trip today.”

The nearest river, if Gaaron remembered his map, was about ten miles northeast. A hike for a man on foot, but an easy distance for an angel to cover. And an angel, blessed with phenomenal body strength, could haul a lot more water back than a solitary man.

“How long have you been traveling with the caravan?” Gaaron asked. He saw the other three angels land and head their way, but with a quick shake of his head, he sent them over toward the caravan. Enoch began to pace alongside one of the wagons, asking the driver questions.

“We met up with them yesterday morning. We couldn't—we saw—I didn't know what to do,” Zack burst out. “We hadn't gone very far yesterday when we came across a campsite—all burned, all cinders—looked like just a few travelers, maybe a family. I knew we weren't safe, but the nearest town was a day's walk away, maybe more. So when the caravan came through—there haven't been any attacks on big groups, at least that I'd heard about—I thought we should pitch in with them.”

Gaaron nodded, keeping his expression neutral. “Jansai and a few Castelana traders?” he asked, and Zack nodded. Gaaron continued, “Not the friendliest group, I'd imagine. But they just took you in? Let the women pick a wagon?”

Zack looked even more defensive. “No. We had to negotiate. That's why Jude's going for the water, and I'm taking first watch tonight.”

Gaaron nodded again, the thoughtful expression on his face masking his quick surge of elation. Crisis and resolution, and Zack had handled it beautifully. Gaaron never would have expected it. “Did you think about just picking the women up and carrying them the rest of the way to Monteverde?”

“Thought about it,” Zack said. “And I would have if the
caravan hadn't come along—I'd have left the furniture behind, too, I didn't care. But the babies don't do well when we fly—we tried it a couple nights when it was late and we were too far from a town. They wouldn't have made a long journey. The caravan seemed safer.”

“I almost didn't see you as we flew overhead,” Gaaron said.

Zack was scanning his face, trying to read his tone. “I'm sorry if you don't like it, Gaaron,” he said. “But I didn't know what to do.”

Gaaron took a step nearer, putting his heavy hands on the boy's shoulders. “I'm proud of you,” he said softly. “You've done well.”

For a split second, it was as if Zack hadn't heard him. Then his face flushed, and he ducked his head, and he looked away. “Now, tell me,” Gaaron said, dropping his hands. “How was your trip until yesterday?”

“Hard enough,” Zack said in a strained voice. “The first few days were—they hated us, and the babies hated us, and we hated them. And we didn't make it to a town till late, and then no one wanted to leave the next day because everyone was sore. I had to just go outside and pick up the cart handles and start walking. I figured, the sooner I got to Monteverde, the sooner I could get back. And they all followed me.” He shrugged a little. “And every day it got a little easier.”

“Clara's a nice woman,” Gaaron said. The caravan was a good thirty feet beyond them now, so he started walking slowly in its wake. Zack fell into step beside him. “Lena's harder to get to know.”