Quatrain

by Sharon Shinn

  Sheba stamped her foot. “Everyone else will be wearing their most revealing clothes! Everyone else will be showing off for the angels. You want me to look like some prim little girl—you want me to hide in some corner, ugly and dowdy—”

  “You couldn’t look ugly if you spent all day trying,” I said calmly. “Now, button up or go change.”

  Still furious, she fastened the top two buttons and then brushed past me down the hall. As if she had said the words out loud, I could tell what she was thinking. When Aunt Salome isn’t watching, I’ll just undo the buttons again. It was almost enough to make me insist that she put on something else altogether.

  If I could have done it, I’d have locked her in her room for the night.

  Just until the angels were gone.

  By most measures, the dinner was an unqualified success. Since it was common for all hands to sit down together at a meal, the dining hall was large and well stocked with tables and chairs. It was easy to accommodate the fifty workers, the three angels, and the thirty guests who had driven in from nearby properties. There was a certain amount of crowding, but that just added to the festive atmosphere—and people were already a little giddy when they first arrived, because of the day’s sunshine. Lazarene and the other kitchen workers had arranged the food on two huge sideboards, and the guests were expected to serve themselves. I helped carry platters and pitchers from the kitchen to the dining room, making half a dozen trips. I just didn’t leave the kitchen after my last trip back.

  I had kept my head down every time I was among the diners, had turned my face away from the angels. Raphael was deep in conversation with Benjamin and his wife. I heard his gorgeous voice asking mundane questions about crop yields and acreage; I caught a glimpse of his golden wings, held tautly behind his back so that no one accidentally stepped on the trailing edges. Just a quick look, then I hurried back through the door, pretending I had one more tray to retrieve.

  Then I stood with my back to the wall, breathing a little rapidly. Wishing that Raphael had chosen any other homestead to make his appearance. Hoping that he and his companions left at first light tomorrow, before I bothered to come down from my room. Praying that nothing—not weather, not plague, not appalling coincidence—would ever put me within fifty feet of the Archangel again.

  “I suppose it could have been worse,” I whispered, trying to calm my rapid heartbeat with an attempt at wry humor. “I suppose Raphael could have chosen Stephen to accompany him here.”

  Much as I wanted to, I could not bring myself to leave the kitchen for the rest of the night. I just had to know what, if anything, was happening in the dining room. So I loitered near the door, nibbling on scraps of food that had been left off the platters as being too burnt or too underdone to serve. I couldn’t distinguish much of the conversation, but I heard bursts of talk, frequent laughter, and now and then some distinct sentence in Raphael’s mellifluous voice.

  When I peeked inside, I saw Neri sitting as close to Saul as she could draw her chair, while Ruth had managed to get herself placed across from Hiram. I gave Ruth credit for finding Hiram more likable than Saul—not because I had any reason to think Hiram was a particularly admirable man, but because Saul had a dark soul and a brittle heart. He was a well-built, attractive man with coloring almost as fair as the Archangel’s; like Raphael, he was dangerous and deeply flawed. I should probably find some way to tell Neri’s mother that she would do well to keep her daughter away from this particular angel.

  But when I scanned the crowd, I saw Neri’s mother smiling with fatuous pride at the sight of her daughter cozying up to the man the Archangel trusted above all others. She would not listen to gentle hints; she might not listen to brutal facts. No, there was little I could do to stop Neri from racing headlong down a disastrous course. I would put my attention on my own charge and do what I could to keep Sheba safe.

  The meal was about half over when I had a pleasant diversion. I saw Hope Danfrees, one of our near neighbors, excuse herself from the table and cross the room. Anyone watching her probably assumed she was looking for privacy accommodations, but I was not surprised when, a few moments later, she stepped through the kitchen door.

  “Here you are, Salome,” she said. “Hiding away from everyone.”

  I smiled. Hope was about ten years older than I was, and showed every day of it; she had allowed her waist to expand and her hair to go gray and her clothing choices to evolve from flattering to comfortable. But her eyes were filled with a shrewdness born of much experience, and she was as worldly as they came. I always suspected that her earlier life had been as wild as mine, and that she regretted it less. From the very moment we met, we had recognized kindred spirits in each other. And despite our differences in station, we had become good friends.

  “I find I don’t have much taste for fawning over angels,” I said. I waved her over to one of the small kitchen tables and we both sat down.

  “Which only shows your good sense,” she replied. “I have to say, it is times like this I’m glad I only have sons. Still, if angels are going to come and be annoying, at least they could do us some good by stopping the rain.”

  That made me laugh. “How much damage have you suffered? Thaddeus believes he can save about half his crops.”

  “We are probably in the same situation.” She shrugged. “It could have been worse. We are still going to take the trips we planned, so it seems Joseph does not expect to see us beggared anytime soon.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Well, of course we must attend the festival in Laban. It was quite enjoyable last year.”

  I hadn’t gone. Laban was a lively little town about a half day’s ride west of the compound, and for the past few years it had hosted a midsummer fair that had won local acclaim. “Sheba has been begging me to let her go,” I said.

  “Then send her with us! I’ll look after her very well, and you know my boys would be happy to have her along.” Hope grinned. “Very happy.”

  I grinned back. “She would break each of their hearts twice before you’d even made it to Laban.”

  “Well, that’s what youth is for,” Hope said callously. “Learning how to mend your heart.”

  “I wouldn’t want to burden you with the responsibility of looking after Sheba,” I said. “But maybe we could both go with you? I might enjoy the festival as well.”

  “Oh, yes, please do! I would be delighted to have your company. But you must write away instantly to reserve a room—all the inns will be full to overflowing. I can give you the address of the place we’re staying.”

  The more I thought about this plan, the better I liked it. “And if I take her to Laban, perhaps Sheba will think I am a loving and indulgent aunt instead of a cruel and hateful one.”

  Hope laughed. “No, she won’t realize how good you are for at least another ten years. Young girls are stupid, but mature women are wise.”

  I tried not to sigh at that. “So, besides Laban, where do you plan to travel?”

  She looked excited. “We’re going to Velora!”

  “Really! I envy you. But why?”

  “Joseph wants to introduce himself to Gabriel before he becomes Archangel,” she said, laughing a little and shaking her head as if to say, Men! What odd notions they have. “Can you believe that? But he says every Samarian landowner of any significance should make himself known to the Archangel. And he thought he should go see Gabriel now, before he becomes too busy with other concerns. Apparently he introduced himself to Raphael twenty years ago—as his father introduced himself to Raphael and to Michael, and his grandfather to the Archangels before him.”

  I just looked at her, my expression neutral. “How very enterprising.”

  She burst out laughing. “How very self-important! But I don’t mind, as I get a trip to Velora out of it. Have you ever been there?”

  Indeed, I had. For a couple of years, I had actually lived in Velora, the charming, prosperous little town situated at the foot o
f the Velo Mountains. It had sprung up some time ago to service the Eyrie, the angel hold in the Bethel province. It was not as sophisticated as Semorrah or as beautiful as Luminaux, but it was a lovely town where you could buy almost anything your heart desired.

  If your heart desired commodities that could actually be purchased.

  “Yes, but it’s been years,” I said. “I’m sure it has changed a great deal.”

  “I admit I am curious to meet Gabriel,” Hope went on. “They say he is much colder and more stern than Raphael. Passionate about justice, but not particularly likable.”

  I gave her a straight look. “It might not be a bad thing to have an Archangel who is a little reserved,” I said.

  She grinned. “Oh, but the angel-seekers don’t agree with you! They lament the fact that once Gabriel takes over, they will not be so welcome at the three holds to sleep with any angel who is willing.”

  “I find it hard to believe that Gabriel’s icy attitude will keep the rest of the angels from taking a tumble with any girl who shows an interest,” I said.

  “No, and we need new angel babies, after all, so there is no use moralizing about it,” Hope said. She stood up and shook out the ample skirts of her lavender gown. “You and Sheba are welcome to go with us to Velora, if you like,” she added. “We are going straight there from Laban, in fact.”

  I came to my feet and shook my head. “I don’t think Thaddeus would like us to be gone so long,” I said.

  “And you have no taste for fawning over angels,” she repeated.

  I smiled. “Exactly so. Velora holds no allure for me anymore.”

  She tilted her head and surveyed me. “The world might have changed since the last time you were there.”

  I said, “Not that much.”

  Two

  It was at least another hour before the meal drew to a close. From my vantage point at the doorway, I could see diners folding their napkins and settling back in their chairs, expressing satisfaction with the food. A moment later, Thaddeus leaned across the table to address Raphael.

  “Would it be rude for me to ask if you or your companions would be willing to sing for us?” he asked. “So many in this room have never heard an angel’s voice lifted in song, but you might be tired from your long hours lifting your voices to Jovah—”

  “Never too tired to sing,” Raphael said instantly. The other two nodded.

  “In fact, it would be an insult if you did not ask us,” Saul said.

  Thaddeus gestured. “This is the only room we have large enough to accommodate us all. We will work quickly to clear the tables and then turn this place into a concert hall.”

  That was my cue to join the others in the general bustle to clean up the dining room. We were quick and sloppy about it, stacking plates haphazardly in the kitchen and running back to get the next armload of dishes. Within fifteen minutes, the tables had been wiped down and everyone was redistributed around the room. Raphael and the other angels stood before the head table, their unfolded wings overlapping behind them in an undulating feathered wall.

  They waited until the room was completely silent, then they began to sing.

  Listening to Raphael perform was like wrapping yourself in liquid gold. His voice was that rich, that mellow, that seductive; it promised all sorts of delicious intimacies. Saul and Hiram added high and low harmonies, each note so perfectly pitched that the knobs of my spine tingled with pleasure. They were not singing sacred music tonight, oh no. This was a romantic song by some modern composer, designed to set girls’ hearts fluttering and make young men look around for a conquest. Even I, hovering at the doorway, suspicious and hostile, felt moved and wistful and full of longing as the trio of angels sang about love.

  The song came to an abrupt end in an utterly silent room. Before anyone in the audience had time to applaud, or even breathe, the angels launched into a new piece. It was entirely different. This was a marching song, or a drinking song, with a strong beat and a rousing chorus. Within ten measures, half the listeners were clapping along. A second energetic song followed the first, and then the angels offered another ballad; this time Hiram took the melody while the other two offered supporting harmonies. Their final selection was softer, sweeter, almost a lullaby—clearly a signal that the evening, or at least the entertainment portion of it, was drawing to an end.

  When they concluded the last song with a final sustained major chord, the audience roared out its approbation. Everyone surged to their feet and applauded madly, some of the boys shouting and whistling. A few people pounded on the tables or stamped their feet. Raphael smiled most graciously and tilted his head forward in what was almost a bow; Hiram waved back at the crowd. Saul just smiled, an expression that was practically a sneer.

  I don’t know what Jovah was about giving angels such beautiful voices. Didn’t the god realize how impossible it would be for mortals to resist them when they sang?

  The crowd began to break up, the neighbors saying their good-byes, the residents starting to think about what the next workday might hold. Eve had approached Raphael, no doubt to explain the night’s sleeping arrangements; even she, a tranquil and rather portly middle-aged matron, blushed and ducked her head when Raphael smiled in her direction. I checked to make sure Sheba was nowhere near the Archangel’s vicinity, then I slipped back into the kitchen to begin scraping the plates clean. I was soon joined by Lazarene and a few of the older women. Not entirely to my surprise, all the younger girls of the estate seemed to have lingered in the dining room, no doubt angling for a private conversation with an angel.

  I was relieved when Sheba joined us almost immediately in the kitchen, pushing back her sleeves before she went to work. But the small, satisfied smile on her face gave me pause.

  Had she found an opportunity to talk to one of the angels? And which one? Had they made an assignation or merely indulged in an exchange of compliments?

  I wondered if I should spend the night sleeping on the floor outside of Sheba’s room.

  It took more than an hour to put the kitchen back into some semblance of order, even with ten of us working at a steady pace. Neri and Ruth eventually drifted in to help us, whispering to each other and smiling dreamily. Most of us were yawning into our hands before the last dish was washed and the final pan was wiped dry.

  “Don’t forget we’ve got an early morning of it, too,” Lazarene warned as we all took off our aprons and headed wearily out the door. “The angels will be setting off for home shortly after dawn, and the hands will work a full day in the fields, now that there’s finally decent weather. So no one sleeps in.”

  A few voices murmured acknowledgments before the kitchen staff gradually dispersed. Neri and Ruth were still whispering together, and several of the other young girls were also trading secrets, but if Sheba had come to any conclusions about our angelic visitors, she wasn’t sharing them with anybody. The more I thought about this, the more it worried me.

  Accordingly, once I was in my own room, I gathered up a nightshirt and a pair of slippers and headed down the hallway to Sheba’s room. “Hara,” I said as I stepped inside, “I need you to stay in my room tonight, while I sleep in your bed.”

  Her vacuous blue eyes widened with surprise. “Why? What’s wrong?”

  Sheba gave me a scornful look that also held a trace of affection. “She wants to make sure I don’t find my way to an angel’s bed in the middle of the night.”

  “Sheba!” Hara exclaimed. I think she actually blushed. Not only was she a silly girl, she wasn’t very ambitious if it hadn’t occurred to her that she might improve her lot in life by snaring an angel lover. Still, these days I preferred simpleminded virtue to shrewd vice, so I grudgingly raised my opinion of her by the tiniest margin.

  “Lazarene gets up very early in the morning,” I told her. “But if you can fall back asleep, I’ll come wake you up when it’s time for you to be in the kitchen.”

  “All right,” Hara said. She was already wearing a nightdress
, so she just collected a few toiletries and a pair of slippers and let herself out the door.

  Sheba gave me a mocking smile. “I really didn’t plan to seduce an angel tonight,” she said. “You’re going to a lot of trouble for no reason.”

  I stretched out on Hara’s narrow bed. “It’s no trouble,” I said.

  She shook her head and made no answer. I was tired; I let my eyes close even before she lay down. I heard her move around the room as she got ready for bed, washing her face, combing out her hair, putting away her clothes. Perhaps a minute after she put out the last light, I fell asleep.

  Only to wake again an hour or two later, momentarily disoriented to find myself in a strange room filled with unfamiliar sounds and shadows. Memory quickly returned—oh yes, I was guarding Sheba’s slumber while angels prowled the compound. And I had been so intent on avoiding those very same angels earlier in the evening that I had failed to eat a substantial dinner, with the result that hunger had roused me from sleep.

  Long experience had taught me that if I didn’t fill my stomach now, I would toss and turn for the rest of the night. Sighing, I pulled myself out of bed. After a quick check on Sheba, I crept out of the room and headed downstairs to the kitchen.

  It was a big house and a lot of people lived there. More than once in my previous midnight forays, I had encountered someone in the kitchen ahead of me. Thaddeus was the one I came across most often, and we had shared some companionable late-night conversations over cold meat and warm milk. The housekeeper, who was twenty-five years older than I, and so restless that I sometimes thought she never slept, could also frequently be found eating a midnight meal. So I wasn’t surprised, as I drew close to the kitchen, to see a fan of light spilling out from beneath the door.

  I was surprised, as soon as I entered the room, to see who was there before me.

  “Salome,” the Archangel greeted me in his warmest voice. “I thought you must be here somewhere.”