Angelica (55 page)

“This is Susannah of the Tachitas, who used to travel with the Lohoras and who lives with the angels now,” Baara said by way of introduction.

“The Lohoras! We just camped with them a few months ago,” Daniel exclaimed.

“Yes, and I have just given her all their news,” Baara said. “We really only called you over so you could tell her the name of that other girl. The one who was traveling with them.”

“The blond girl,” someone else put in. “You must remember, you courted her for two whole days.”

Daniel looked embarrassed but he replied without hesitation. “Of course I remember! Her name was Miriam.”

Susannah made her way back through Velora slowly, her head in an even greater state of confusion than the city itself. This time, she scarcely even noticed the children careening into her or the adults pushing past her, cursing under their breath.

Miriam was traveling with the Lohoras—was not, as they had believed all this time, safely settled in Luminaux and learning to live a calm, productive life. Susannah had not been able to hide her shock at Daniel's revelation, so they had made her sit for a while, and drink a little wine, and explain what it was that troubled her about Daniel's announcement. “She is a girl I care for a great deal, and I had not realized where she was,” was all Susannah managed to say. So Daniel had gone to some trouble to assure her that Miriam was safe, well-treated, well-behaved, and happy, and he had reproduced enough snippets of her conversation to make Susannah believe that he had truly spent a good few hours with this troublesome girl.

Hard as it was to believe, it sounded like Miriam had at last found a place where she could fit in. According to Daniel, she had helped watch the children, volunteered to prepare the food, joined in the singing, been thoughtful to her tentmates, and generally behaved like any good-hearted Edori girl. At any other time, Susannah would have been glad at the news that Miriam had run off to the Edori and found herself made over.

But knowing that the fierce strangers were roaming the entire countryside of Samaria, wantonly destroying any camp or settlement they came across, Susannah was nearly paralyzed with fright. Miriam
might
have been safe in Luminaux, though even that seemed doubtful these days, but what risks
did she run encamped with the Lohoras on the open plains of Jordana? Susannah could not bear thinking about it.

She must tell Gaaron.

Then again, what could Gaaron do?

There was no telling where any particular tribe would be camped at any point in time. At the Gathering, the clans would recite for one another the routes they had taken during the previous year, and the trails they planned to follow in the coming months, but no one ever stuck to these plans. A tribe might go for three years running to the edge of Breven on the cusp of spring, and then never wander back to the outskirts of the Jansai city again. Tribes that made plans to meet every summer on the cool northwestern tip of Gaza would always add “As the god wills,” because so often one or the other group would get distracted or slowed down and never make the rendezvous. That was why the Gathering was so important—it was the one place, one time, every clan made sure to come together as planned.

Susannah might tell Gaaron that Miriam was somewhere traveling with the Lohoras, but that information would be sure to make him crazy. He could spend the next six months seeking her out, crisscrossing the three provinces, and never find her. And then would he worry less, thinking her safely hidden somewhere in some remote valley—or worry more, thinking her lost to him forever?

Hard as it would be, she must keep this secret till spring. When the Gathering came around, she would entreat Gaaron to accompany her, and there they would find Miriam, safe and happy.

Please Yovah, sweet Yovah, let us find her safe and happy.

It was nearly dinnertime when Susannah made her way to the heart of Velora and spotted Enoch, who agreed to take her back to the Eyrie. Enoch was not one of her favorite angels, and Susannah had much on her mind anyway, so they did not speak during the short flight back.

She was also quiet over dinner, unable to summon her usual animation, and she noticed both Gaaron and Keren watching her with concern. She waited for the question to come, though. She had decided on the tack she would take,
and there was a certain reserve that was required.

“Are you feeling well?” Gaaron asked her in a low voice as she toyed with her dessert, a sweet confection of berries and cream. “You hardly touched your dinner.”

“Oh—yes—I'm sorry,” she said, looking up at him with a halfhearted smile. “It's just—I spent the day in Velora, you know.”

“All those people!” Keren exclaimed. “I could not get through the market to even
look
at new fabrics.”

“You have no need at all of new fabrics,” Gaaron responded automatically, then returned his attention to Susannah. “Perhaps you picked up some illness when you were around so many people.”

“No, I. . .” She shrugged. “I went down to the Edori camps to see if I knew anyone there. And I did—a few—but none of them were the ones I was looking for.”

“The Lohoras would never camp near a city for the winter,” Keren said.

“No, nor the Tachitas,” Susannah agreed. “I had hoped for news.”

“You miss them,” Gaaron said in a steady voice.

She gave him a straight look. “I worry about them. They are so unprotected.”

“The Lohoras are probably not unprotected,” Keren said. “Don't you think they are camping by Galo this year? It is very nice and comfortable under the mountain.”

Susannah glanced over at her. “By Galo? We never wintered there while I traveled with the clan.”

“Yes, but we always did when I was little,” Keren said. “Every year, it seemed! It was very boring. And I know Bartholomew was talking about it last summer. I'm sure that's where they are.”

“Where by Mount Galo?” Susannah asked. “On the Gaza side?”

Keren rolled her eyes. “Oh, no, the east side. Not far from Windy Point.” She made a little sketch on her plate from the remains of her sauce. “See? Here is the mountain, and here is the ocean and Windy Point is here—or here, maybe—anyway, these would be the Caitanas. The Lohoras are right here.” She pushed a bit of fruit over to indicate the Edori
camp. “Unless they are not at Galo,” she added. “They might have gone back to Luminaux, especially if Bartholomew was sick again.”

“Baara said he was well.”

“Or they may have stayed in the Caitanas. We did that a few times, too, and it was not quite as boring.”

“The Caitanas are what I remember,” Susannah said.

“Did you want to go visit the clan?” Gaaron asked. “I could take you there, but I don't think I would want you to stay. It is so dangerous on the open land.”

She smiled at him, for it was a kind offer, but the last thing she wanted was for Gaaron to fly her to an Edori camp where Miriam was making her home. “No, thank you,” she said in a quiet voice. “I will just worry about them from here.”

Still, over the next few days, she thought about it almost incessantly. There might be a way to get to Miriam without letting Gaaron know. Chloe or Zibiah would take her up to Mount Galo without telling Gaaron their destination, though they would need a good excuse for making a trip in this weather, during this hazardous season. Nicholas or Ahio would also be willing to fly her somewhere, though they could not be counted on to keep secrets from Gaaron; the women could.

But then Susannah risked putting the angels in danger, too, and she would never forgive herself if something happened to anyone in the hold because of her. She did not know what to do.

She fretted about it for the next few weeks, trying not to let her preoccupation keep her from her normal daily tasks. Much of these centered on planning the wedding, for Esther simply would not make a decision about food or decorating without soliciting Susannah's opinion—or, rather, Susannah's approval and extravagant praise. Chloe, Zibiah, and Sela were happy to gather with her for a little while every day, working on a quilt they had decided they would make for her as a gift, while Susannah embroidered the sleeves and bodice of the gold dress that was being made into her wedding gown.

“You must rearrange Gaaron's quarters, too, and find
things of your own to hang on the walls,” Chloe told her. “It is so spare and masculine in there! The room must have feminine touches.”

“Perhaps Gaaron will not like my touches,” Susannah said.

Chloe gave a little sniff. “Perhaps it does not matter what he likes.”

Gaaron, of course, was gone most of this time, returning every other night looking strung with fatigue. Susannah always made a point of dining with him, or dropping by his rooms on the nights he came back very late, if only to exchange a few words. His news was never good.

“We found a small farm in southern Bethel—all burned,” he told her one night. “Probably thirty people had lived there.” Another time it was a story about a tiny river town, obliterated. The roads were deserted; many of the smaller settlements had been completely abandoned. The bigger towns had become cities, and the cities were overflowing.

“Adriel said there was a fight in Semorrah—a riot, really—when two groups started arguing over a supply wagon. Too many people crowded into the cities, looking for safety, but now the cities are starting to feel the pinch, and I don't know how long the situation can last.”

“Is there enough food for everyone?” Susannah asked when he told her this story. It was close to midnight, and he was eating a late meal in his rooms. Or, rather, picking at it, since he seemed to have no appetite. Esther would not be pleased when she collected the nearly full plates in the morning.

“For now. All the harvests are in, and we would be living on stored grain anyway at this time of year. But spring is not so far away, and then what? If no one is willing to go back to the farms and work the fields, we will all starve within a season. These—these marauders will kill us off as surely as if they had burned us all to the ground.”

“I am surprised no one has talked about building weapons again.”

Gaaron ran his hand over his face. “They have. Adriel and Moshe were most adamant about it when I saw them two days ago. I am against it still—I cannot say how strongly
I oppose the idea—but I think they are too afraid to listen to me. I am sure there is someone in Semorrah working on a projectile weapon even as we speak. But I cannot imagine such a thing can be developed soon enough, and powerfully enough, to give us an edge in a battle with our enemies.”

“Then what do we do?” Susannah asked.

He stared at her. His broad, serious face looked thin with worry; his whole big body seemed compacted with stress and effort. She could not possibly tell him news that would add to his troubles. “I don't know,” he said at last. “Every day I try to answer that question, and every day I fail to find the answer.”

Susannah came to her feet, and he watched her rise. “You're so tired,” she said. “I'm going to let you get some rest. You will solve it, Gaaron—I know you will. But not if you're too exhausted to think.”

She had made it as far as the door before he spoke again. “Not so tired that I don't appreciate your company and your belief in me,” he said. “It is good of you to wait up for me.”

“Why, Gaaron, I am always happy to see you.”

“You don't look so happy. I have noticed that lately.”

“I think you have more things to concern yourself with right now than my happiness.”

“I will always be concerned with your happiness.”

She smiled and did not answer directly. “Sleep, Gaaron. We'll talk again in the morning.”

But in the morning, of course, he was gone.

She did not see him for another two days—bleak days, for her. Chloe and Zibiah were gone, also Ahio and Nicholas, carrying messages between holds and cities. Keren spent a day with her in Velora, but did nothing but talk rapturously of Nicholas and his many virtues. Susannah was pleased for her, of course, and could wholeheartedly agree that Nicholas was a sweet man, a handsome one, quite loving and beautiful; but it was not a particularly stimulating conversation as far as Susannah was concerned. And she was—well, she hated to think it, hated to admit it—but she was jealous, a little, of Keren's sublime joy. Not that she would wish such delight to be taken away from Keren, oh no; she just would wish for a little love and happiness to come her own way.

At dinner that night, Susannah's unfortunate lot was to draw as dinner companions Esther and Enoch, her two least favorite people at the hold, and a thin, stringy mortal woman who never said much and whose role at the Eyrie was unclear to Susannah. Susannah made an effort to be gracious to everyone, but she didn't have much energy, so the meal was hardly a success.

“Come back in about an hour, after I've got all the dishes cleared away, and I'll show you a new recipe for the wedding breakfast,” Esther commanded as the meal finally wound up. “I think you'll like it.”

“Oh—all right,” Susannah said without much enthusiasm. She was so tired she wanted to go straight to her room and directly to bed. But this was important, she reminded herself—definitely important to Esther, and it should be important to her.