The Alleluia Files (43 page)

He handed over a piece of paper. She looked down at her
features, ill-drawn but unmistakable, and felt a chill hand wrap bony fingers around her heart. “You drew this,” she whispered. “To frighten me.”

“It is not a skill I have,” Jared replied coldly.

She looked up at him, blindly now, seeing not his face but her own, chalky and blurred on the much-folded paper. “But—I don’t—why?” she stammered. “There is no reason—I am not someone Bael should care about one way or another.”

“Oh, he has other portraits, which I’ve got copies of. A man called Conran—I can see by your face you’ve heard of him— a couple of others. But you and Conran seemed to be the two he was most interested in. Don’t ask me why. I wouldn’t have pegged you as the dangerous type, myself. Stupid, maybe, but not dangerous.”

The epithet cleared her mind and restored her vision instantly. “Just because I don’t trust you is no reason to call me stupid,” she said fiercely. “At least I’m alive, which is more than I can say for many of my friends. And who knows if trusting angels isn’t what killed them?”

A strange, reluctant smile crossed his face. “I have to give you credit for spirit, if nothing else,” he said, almost as if he spoke to himself. “What can I do to make you believe me? For you have to believe me. We need to leave Isabella’s the day the wedding is over. I must take you to Ysral. I don’t think you’ll be safe anywhere else.”

“Ysral? Why should I go to Ysral?” she demanded, though she had decided just a few days ago that was her ultimate destination. But she would not travel anywhere with this man, not a mile, not an inch.

“Because it’s not Samaria, for one thing. And because I believe the rest of the Jacobites are there, for another.”

“How would you know anything about the Jacobites’ plans?” she said suspiciously. “How do you know about these—these portraits? Where do you get all your information?”

“I have a friend. Christian Avalone, do you know of him?” She nodded. “He’s a merchant who has no love for Bael. And because Bael has no love for the Jacobites, Christian has decided to help the Jacobites where he can. Also, I suspect that in his heart Christian likes the idea of a mechanical god instead of a real one. Christian has only a very small heart, you know—most
businessmen do—and that would simplify his life considerably.”

“You talk in riddles,” she said. “And nothing I have heard about Christian Avalone makes me trust him any more than I trust you.”

“Then it appears we are at a standstill,” he said lightly.

She waited, but he said nothing more, which was very annoying. She had quite enough anger left to counter everything he said with a good, hard insult, but she felt ridiculous just standing there looking at him when he did nothing but stand there in return.

“Did you come here searching for me?” she asked, just for something to say.

“No, I had another reason for coming to Isabella’s. I am as astonished to see you as you are to see me. Though not surprised to find you in trouble.”

She scowled at that, but even through her narrowed eyelids she could see the residual opal glow on his arm. “And why in the world is your Kiss all lit up like that?” she said irritably.

He glanced at it, as if he hadn’t noticed, and then gave her the most peculiar smile. “And why is yours?” he asked in return.

Quickly she checked, but it was true. The pain she had taken for Alan’s mishandling was the result of a pulsing, swirling fire in the depths of her Kiss. She felt both bewildered and very, very wary. She looked back at the angel. “Why does it do that?” she asked. She remembered the stories she had heard— but Ezra had told her they were fairy tales—surely the angel was not about to tell her—

He was still smiling. “Legends say your Kiss will light when you meet another person with whom you have some—bond,” he replied. She had the sense that he was editing. “There appears to be some sort of link between us. For instance, I know you were working at the Herman House in Semorrah.” She could tell that her face showed her astonishment; he nodded. “The night I had dinner there, my Kiss flared just like this. I didn’t figure it out till later, then I returned to Semorrah looking for you. Jasper told me you had gone to visit your sick sister.”

He had the story right; he must be telling the truth. “And now?” she breathed.

“Minutes after I arrived on the farm, I felt a kind of pressure
in my arm. I couldn’t believe it—after all the time I’ve spent looking for you, could you possibly be here? And then, a few hours later, the pressure became intense. Painful, actually. They say that the angel Gabriel felt fire in his Kiss when his angelica Rachel was in danger. All I know is that the pain in my arm sent me out of the house in a hurry, looking for you.”

She stared bleakly down at the Kiss again. Yet another reason to hate it! First dizziness, then music, and now an uncontrollable, undesirable link to the angel Jared. “I should never have had this installed,” she muttered darkly. “It has caused me no end of grief.”

“And will not serve its intended purpose of hiding you from the Jansai,” he added. “For they will not be looking at your arm, but your face.”

“There are no Jansai at Cartabella.”

“Do you plan to stay here your whole life?”

She did not answer.

“And anyway, I know for a fact that Isabella trades with the Jansai,” he went on. “Just because you haven’t seen any doesn’t mean they won’t show up. And then how will you defend yourself? Isabella is not the type to ruin a good relationship with a Breven merchant just to save a nameless servant.”

“I don’t think you need to concern yourself,” Tamar said evenly. “I have taken care of myself so far without your help.”

“But things are much more risky for you now,” he said urgently. “Your life has taken a very hazardous turn.”

“And what do you know about the hazards of my life till now?” was her furious reply. “What do you know about the deaths I have witnessed or the indignities I have suffered? What do you know about my terrors or my dreams? What do you know about me at all?”

He was silent a long moment, watching her, this time not responding to her anger with a flare-up of his own. “Very little,” he said at last “But I would like to know it all.”

Which was not the reply she had expected. She flung her head back, taken by surprise, but there was really no answer to that. Not saying another word to him, she stomped across the corral to retrieve Lunacy, and led the horse none too steadily to the stable. The angel let her pass in silence.

Once inside the aromatic dimness of the stable, she paused to catch her breath and marvel over the events of the past half
hour. Menace on all sides; hard to know what to fear most. Oddly enough, she felt as much exhilaration as fear, at least in regard to the angel. She didn’t trust him, of course, but somehow she did not hate him as she should. Something to do with that damned Kiss, no doubt.

Only after she had stood there a moment or two and her eyes had adjusted to the relative darkness did she realize that Gene was standing there, watching her. The soberness of his expression made her realize that he had witnessed at least some part of her adventures.

“None of my business,” he said diffidently, “but if that angel was one of the ones bothering you, I’m not afraid to go to Isabella even so. Some of the angel folk are no better than the gentry.”

“No,” she said quickly. “He had some advice for me that I didn’t want to take, but I’m not afraid of him. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

He nodded slowly, thinking it over. “You know him, then? The angel Jared?”

“I’ve met him before. Very briefly.”

“They say he’s the best of the lot. But I just wanted to let you know that if there was something to complain about, you shouldn’t let the fact that he’s an angel stop you.”

“No. No complaints,” she said. “But thank you anyway.”

And she had stabled Lunacy and led out one of the other estate horses before she realized she had barely exercised the filly at all. So she was not succeeding particularly well even at the specialized job she had been assigned; but somehow she did not think it was entirely her fault.

Jared came out to the corral the next morning to watch her work. She was leading Lunacy around on a halter, talking nonsense words, when out of the corner of her eye she spied the angel approaching. Tamar made no attempt to acknowledge him, but it was a little hard to overlook him when he swung himself up to the top railing of the fence, swept his wings behind him, and hooked his feet over the bottom rung. The day was hot, and Tamar felt her hair beginning to stick to her forehead as the sweat built up along her scalp. She was covered with bits of straw and no end of horsehair, so all she needed to look really
attractive was to have perspiration redden her face and flatten her short hair.

Not that she cared how the angel viewed her.

Jared watched her in silence for perhaps half an hour while Tamar did her best to ignore him. But finally his presence goaded her to such supreme irritation that she wrapped the reins around her hand and hauled the horse over to his perch.

“What?” she exclaimed.

Jared merely raised an eyebrow. “What what? I’m just sitting here enjoying the fine day.”

“You are not. You’re trying to distract me.”

“I didn’t say a word.”

“Well, you’re
staring
at me.”

“I will endeavor to turn my eyes elsewhere,” he said. And suiting action to words, he let his gaze wander past her, to the maze of buildings that housed the granaries, the dairies, and the machinery.

Tamar almost stamped her foot. “Have you come to frighten off Devon or any of his friends? Is that it?”

“No, I told you, I’m just enjoying the sunny day.”

She pushed her hair back with her free hand. “Perhaps you’d like to ride? Not Lunacy, of course, because she’d throw you, but one of the other horses?”

“I don’t ride, thank you. But I appreciate your thoughtful offer.”

This time she did stamp her foot. Without another word, she stalked off, practically dragging the horse behind her. Once inside the stables, she settled Lunacy in her stall and chose as her next subject a great, spirited bay stallion that Isabella loved to ride. He hadn’t been exercised in a day or two, though, so he needed a good hard gallop. Quickly, Tamar saddled him and led him out into the daylight. She mounted and headed off toward the acres of open parkland that constituted one of the main attractions of Isabella Cartera’s land. There were a number of riding trails here, some more challenging than others, with a few low jumps thrown in for good measure. She would ride as far and as fast as the horse would go.

They had been out only twenty minutes or so, taking the empty trails at a good clip and clearing the ornamental hedges with room to spare, when once again Tamar realized she had company. The angel was following them overhead, making lazy
loops back and forth over the pathways she had chosen, wings outstretched in an easy, untroubled glide. It did not take much cogitation to realize that no matter where she took this horse—or any oilier horse—the angel planned to follow.

Either he was stubbornly desirous of rousing her to fury, or he really did believe she was in danger.

That night after dinner, Tamar went to Gene. “I heard you telling Gregor that Isabella’s new saddle arrived in Shepherd’s Pass,” she said. “I could ride to town and fetch it, if you’d like. I know Gregor hates to leave the farm when there’s this much excitement going on.”

Gene looked at her long and consideringly. Tamar kept her face empty of any expression except neutral helpfulness. “That would be fine,” he said slowly. “Take Harmony, though. Isabella’s planning a hunting party tomorrow and she won’t want any of the good horses to be missing.”

Harmony was a swaybacked old mare with a sweet disposition but very little energy. The least valuable horse in the stables. So Gene had read her right despite her innocent face. “I’ll leave in the morning.”

“Should be able to make it there and back in a day, but if something holds you up, you should stable the horse at Gwierson’s,” the head groom went on. “Saddle’s been paid for, but I could give you a little cash in case there’s a problem.”

“I wouldn’t think there’d be a problem,” Tamar said. Her throat hurt her to speak. He was being so kind.

He shrugged. “Suit yourself. Leave as soon as you’re ready.”

So that night she packed up as many of her meager belongings as would fit in an inconspicuous bag that might seem appropriate for a day trip into the nearest town. She’d already gotten three weeks’ worth of wages, and she counted out the money. Enough to take her to Port Clara easily; enough, she hoped, to buy passage to Ysral.

She slept badly and woke with a headache before dawn had really opened its lush eyes. No reason to lie here any longer, fretting, so she rose and dressed and hooked her duffel bag over her shoulder. When she arrived in the stable that was Harmony’s home, she was surprised to find Gene there before her.

“Just wanted to look her over quickly before you set out,” was his explanation. “And I remembered last night. Still a down
payment on the saddle. So here’s enough money to cover it.”

Impossible to refuse when phrased that way, so helplessly she accepted the roll of bills he offered her. The outer denomination was almost as much as the small stash she’d managed to accumulate.

“I can’t—what if I lose it?” she stammered.

He shrugged. “It’s not much. Don’t worry about it. Ride carefully. Remember—Gwierson’s is the place.”

She nodded. “Thanks.” She shrugged, because she wanted to say more and could not think how.

He gave her one of his rare grins. “And if any of those boys asks me where you went, I won’t tell,” he said.

She smiled back. “I’m sure they’ll miss me.”

“Won’t we all.”

She nodded, murmured her thanks again, and freed the horse from the stall. Too much weighted conversation like this and she would be in tears before she could get out the door. Gene followed her outside but had no other comment to make. Once on horseback, she waved good-bye and he returned the gesture. Then she was off into the sweet, fresh coolness of morning.