Angelica

by Sharon Shinn

  “Or maybe she will never want to return to the tent and the tribe.”

  Tirza shrugged. “If she is happier in the city or the hold, why should we tie her to a life of roving?”

  Susannah was thinking very fast. Visitors were constantly coming in and out of the Eyrie—there was room for dozens of transients at a time. Not that Keren would take up any space at all; she would sleep with Susannah, of course. And she would love life at the angel hold—no question about that. And Susannah would be so glad to have her.

  “Would she come?” Susannah asked. “Now? Today?”

  Tirza nodded ruefully. “I’m sure of it. Listening to her talk to Miriam last night—all night, there was no sleeping done—I must have heard her say a dozen times how she wished she could go back with you. At first I wanted to strangle her just to silence her, but then I started thinking, ‘Why not? Wouldn’t everyone be made happy by this?’ ”

  “But she’d want to return to camp, to get some of her clothes—”

  “I brought them,” Tirza said triumphantly, pointing at a shoulder bag she’d carried out of the tent with her. “Just a few things that I knew she’d want. I didn’t want to suggest it to her unless it was a plan you approved of, but if you do—”

  “Yes, I would be happy to have Keren return with me, and everyone would welcome her,” Susannah said decisively. “Let’s ask her.”

  Keren, predictably, was ecstatic at the offer—she danced in the dusty road and twirled around so fast that her skirts fanned out and the string ties of her jacket went whipping around her shoulders.

  Miriam laughed. “You’re excited now, but wait till the hundredth person tells you you’re making too much noise or you can’t behave a certain way or the dress you’re wearing makes you look like a street girl from Semorrah—”

  “Perhaps Keren will behave so well that no one will be tempted to say those things to her,” Susannah said.

  “I doubt it,” was Tirza’s comment.

  “Oh, I will. I’ll be the best girl ever. I won’t even flirt!”

  Everyone had to laugh at that, not even Miriam believing her. “Just act demure and shy around Gaaron, and everything will be fine,” the blond girl said cynically. “You don’t have to impress anyone else.”

  “She has to impress me,” Susannah corrected. “The minute she gets into any kind of trouble, I’m sending her back to Tirza.”

  “Send her to the bakery,” Miriam suggested with a flicker of humor.

  “Another good idea,” Susannah approved. “Though we don’t want to burden Frida with too many incorrigible girls.”

  By this time, they had made it into Luminaux proper. Keren begged and begged Tirza to buy her a new dress so she could look beautiful as she made her debut at the Eyrie. Tirza said firmly that she didn’t have a single copper on her, so she couldn’t buy herself a flat of bread, but Susannah couldn’t stand Keren’s disappointment. Gaaron had lent her one of his bracelets so that she could take care of expenses on the road. She took Keren into a little shop not far from the bakery and let her pick out a new dress of simple cut but bright color. Susannah flashed the borrowed bracelet at the shop owner, who smiled and nodded and tallied up the Eyrie’s debt in a little notebook.

  Keren wore the dress out of the shop, and Miriam was extravagant in her praise. Tirza merely shook her head. “And now I’m wondering if it’s really such a good idea to send her to you, if you’re only going to indulge her this way?” Tirza demanded.

  Susannah laughed. “Just this once,” she promised. “I know how much she wants to make a good impression.”

  “Susannah. Keren wants to make a good impression every day. At least if you’re talking about hair and clothes. Not if you’re talking about behavior.”

  “She’ll be fine. I’ll watch her. Can’t you see how happy she is? When is the last time you were so happy?”

  Tirza looked at her. “When I saw you standing in Frida’s shop yesterday.”

  Susannah smiled. “Well, and she is just that happy now.”

  When they arrived at the bakery, Susannah suddenly realized how hard the good-byes were going to be. “I don’t know which of you I’m going to miss the most,” she said, hugging first Miriam, then Tirza, then Miriam again.

  Miriam accepted the embrace but didn’t seem nearly as heartbroken in return. Susannah drew back a little to study the fine features and the closed, wary expression. “I can’t tell what you’re thinking,” she said. “Maybe I should stay a few days and make sure you settle in all right.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Miriam said in a distinct voice. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

  Susannah watched her a little longer. “All that passed between Dathan and me last night was a kiss,” she said softly. “So you don’t need to be angry with me for that.”

  For an instant, Miriam’s face showed a look of surprise, and then she flashed that beautiful, brilliant smile. “I’ll take that off my list, then,” she said.

  “I’ll tell Gaaron you sent him your love,” Susannah said.

  Miriam laughed. “Will he believe you?”

  Susannah kissed her on the cheek. “Be well, Miriam,” she said. “You have no idea how much everyone loves you.”

  Saying good-bye to Tirza was just as difficult, though less tainted with complex emotions. “When will we see you again?” Tirza demanded. “Will you come to the Gathering, if we do not see you sooner?”

  “Yes—certainly—I would not miss the Gathering for anything.”

  Tirza drew back. “That is too far away,” she said accusingly. “Months and months.”

  “The time will go quickly,” Susannah said. “And who knows? Perhaps I will find you again before then. And if the Lohoras make their way to northern Bethel, you can come to Velora and send me word. Why should all the burden fall on me?”

  Tirza laughed shakily. “We shall do that,” she said. “Maybe tomorrow we will set out in your direction.”

  “I’ll watch for you from the circle of Yovah’s arms,” Susannah said, speaking the words of the traditional Edori farewell.

  “And till I arrive, whisper kindly of me in his ear,” Tirza replied.

  Susannah turned to Keren, who had been made far more impatient than sad by the extended leave-taking. “Are you ready?” she asked.

  “I’ve been ready for a long time,” Keren said.

  “Then say good-bye to Tirza,” Susannah said, “and I will take you to meet some angels.”

  C hapter F ourteen

  Susannah was only gone a week, but Gaaron missed her every day.

  The first day, he wanted to tell her what Zibiah had reported about Kaski, which was that the Jansai girl appeared to be ill and refused to take Esther’s medicines.

  “Or maybe it’s just that she won’t eat,” Zibiah said.

  “What? She won’t eat? Since when?”

  “Since Susannah left.”

  “That’s just a few hours ago. Maybe she’ll be hungry by dinnertime.”

  Zibiah looked skeptical. “She seems pretty stubborn to me.”

  “What else has she done?”

  Zibiah shrugged. “Nothing. I mean, she won’t leave the room. She wouldn’t go to the kitchen like she’s supposed to, and she won’t go to the classroom. I could carry her down there, I suppose, but—”

  Gaaron shook his head. “What good would it do? I understand. Well, maybe it will be better tomorrow. Let me know. If we must, we’ll take her down to an apothecary in Velora and see if she can help.”

  The second day he flew into Velora to meet with the merchants’ council and decide the fate of the woman who had murdered her husband because of Miriam’s presence in the house. The council was disposed to leniency, though they could not overlook the severity of the crime, and Gaaron could not help but agree with them on both counts. In the end, they decided that Myra would be allowed to keep possession of the business but that she must, for one year, be guided by the council in her major decisions, and that
she must operate from her house unless escorted by one of the people whose names appeared on a hastily compiled list. In addition, they decreed that some portion of her business for the following year must be donated to a charitable cause. Myra Shapping agreeing to all these terms in a subdued, almost inaudible voice, the whole business was concluded as well as could have been expected. Better.

  But Gaaron flew back to the Eyrie and wished he had someone with whom to share the news. Only Miriam and Susannah knew the whole story, and only to Susannah would he feel like expressing his sense of duplicity at concealing from the council the identity of the wayward girl. He would never have given Miriam up to the judgment of an assembly of men. He would have snatched her up in his arms, had they attempted to take her by force, and flown her to Windy Point or Mount Sinai or some other remote place of austere safety.

  But still he blamed her for the whole depressing mess, and only to Susannah could he express his troubled emotions.

  On the third day, he received a summons from Adriel that he and various others should meet with her at Windy Point in two days, which meant that he would have to leave immediately. He informed Esther and Enoch that he would be gone, and when he expected to be back, but he wished Susannah were there so that he could say good-bye.

  Stupid. They had already said one set of cool farewells when she set out for Luminaux. It was just that he felt he had a great deal to tell her, and he was certain he would have forgotten most of it by the time he saw her again.

  He packed a couple of changes of clothing, including formal dining attire, since Adriel liked to hold stately dinners whenever there was exalted company around. A satchel of food, a canteen of water, and he was ready. He took off before noon, and headed northeast toward the Galilee River.

  He did not fly as high as he normally would have, only in part deterred by the coolness of the air even at lower altitudes. It was still mid-autumn, but he predicted it would be bitterly cold at Windy Point, where the chilly seasons came faster and the warm seasons seemed reluctant to visit at all. Yet it was not the weather that kept him low; it was the thought that there might be something to see on the ground between the two angel holds. Burned campsites. Destroyed farms. A plague flag or signs of a flooded river. Any of the hundreds of signals that disaster had come and an angel’s presence was required.

  But he flew over miles of landscape that changed as he traveled from a faded green to a rusted autumn orange, and saw no signs of trouble at all.

  He stopped for the night in a small town about fifty miles from the river. In the inn he chose, the room was small but spotless, clearly the best in the house. It was unfortunate that not a single chair in the dining room had been designed to allow for the disposition of angel wings, so, telling the innkeeper that this was how he always consumed his meals, he ate standing up. Once upstairs for the night, he found the ornate bed also precisely the wrong size to accommodate him, not narrow enough to allow his wings to trail easily off both sides, not wide enough for him to spread them out to their fullest. It was also too short for him. In the end, he slept curled up on his side, right at the edge of the bed, and let the feathered masses pool beside him on the floor.

  He woke feeling unrefreshed and not particularly eager to get to Windy Point. He wondered where Susannah was at that exact moment. Still in Luminaux? On the way back? Happy to be leaving Miriam behind, or as worried about the girl as Gaaron was himself? He sighed, rose, washed, and dressed. After another quick and uncomfortable meal in the dining room, he took off again for the north.

  The only real diversion of the day was passing over Semorrah, billed as the most beautiful city in the three provinces. From the air, it certainly seemed to live up to that reputation. It was only half built, or so its architects claimed, but the soaring spires and glistening white stone of the existing buildings were breathtaking and fanciful. All of it was being constructed on an island in the middle of the powerful Galilee River, making Semorrah even more magical and unattainable. Naturally, everyone wanted to go there, but only the richest could stay. Adriel said it would become the most prosperous city in the three provinces, but Gaaron thought it was a little early to be making such predictions. Still, it was a lovely, airy, whimsical town in the middle of the foaming river, and Gaaron thought that someday he would like to go there for an extended visit. Bringing Susannah with him, of course. He would like to hear what she had to say about such a beautiful place.

  He flew hard and fast for the entire day, pausing only once to break for a meal. Just as he had expected—colder here west of the Caitanas, in the inhospitable corner of Jordana that housed Windy Point. He was a man who welcomed winter for its respite from the heat that he disliked, but there was something unfriendly about this chill.

  Or maybe it was just that every journey seemed seasoned with dread these days, every conference and conclave an opportunity to discuss more horrors. He wished again he had been able to bring Susannah along, for her wise words and her comforting presence and her—well, for her smile.

  For no reason.

  After his hasty and unsatisfying meal, he flung himself aloft again, determined to make it to Windy Point for the night. He was not particularly tired. His big wings performed their rhythmic lift and stroke with a steady, unvarying motion; his muscled body accepted the punishing buffeting of the wind with a hard indifference. His face was numb with the cold of high altitudes, but he liked the feeling, as if his cheekbones had been molded of marble and his chin from a block of ice. He could fly forever, he thought, across the whole continent, across the ocean on the eastern edge of the province, all the way to the fabled land of Ysral, if the place the Edori talked of really did exist. He might not even stop at Windy Point after all.

  But he did. It was close to midnight by the time he banked over the northernmost tip of the Caitanas and dropped down toward the castle nestled in the highest reaches of the mountains. It looked liked a fortress, grim, girded, and grilled. Every window was covered with a decorative but effective grate, and the tunnel leading from the public landing ledge into the living quarters was guarded by a dropped portcullis. Not for the first time, Gaaron wondered how they’d even hauled the materials up the mountain to build the stronghold in the first place. And why they’d thought anyone who lived there would need any protection from outside enemies, who would scarcely have the energy to attack a kitten once they’d managed to make it, panting, up the steep and stony mountain.

  He came soundlessly to his feet, spreading his wings until he’d caught his balance. As always after a long flight, he had a moment’s disorientation, a touch of confusion about how his weight was distributed and what the muscles of his body were for. He could feel slight spasms ripple down his back, a sign that he’d probably stayed airborne for longer than he should have, and of their own accord his wings folded themselves behind him with absolutely no desire to preen.

  He was glad to see that someone had been stationed at the gate, even at this late hour. Then again, Adriel was expecting company, and none of them were liable to arrive on a predictable schedule. “It’s Gabriel,” he called out.

  “Yes, angelo,” the attendant called back. It was a young mortal man whom Gaaron could not remember ever meeting before. The son of some wealthy Jordana landowner, no doubt, invited here for the season so that Adriel could cement alliances. “How was your flight?”

  “Long and cold,” Gaaron said, ducking under the portcullis as soon as it had been raised far enough and stepping inside the compound. He was immediately in a high-ceilinged great hall, much more formal than the plateau at the Eyrie where visitors first arrived. “Am I the last one to arrive? Who else is here?”

  “I don’t know if the Archangel is expecting more visitors,” the young man replied. “Neri of Monteverde and Constantine Lesh are already here, as are Solomon of Breven and James Hallomel of Jordana.”

  Gaaron raised his eyebrows at that, for the roster pretty much described the political elite of the three provinces. “I am g
lad I am not tardy,” was all he said, however. “Is my room set aside for me? I know my way.”

  In a few minutes, Gaaron had navigated the torturous and unnecessarily complex tunnels of Windy Point to find the chamber that was always given to him whenever he stayed at the hold. It was the room that had been his when, for a five-year period, he had lived at Windy Point. He had not then been so aware of the dreariness of the place; he had been happy here. Adriel had been kind, and the entire hold had been so orderly, so well-run. In the Eyrie during those days, life had been much different. It had not taken him long to realize that Adriel’s way of doing things was much preferred over his father’s.

  He washed off the dust and sweat of flight, and stretched himself on the ample bed, blowing out the last candle as he lay down. He stared up at the ceiling, or where the ceiling had to be; it was too dark to see anything except a faint outline of gray around the room’s single window. He missed the familiar proportions of his room, the shapes of furniture against the shadows, the triple arch of windows cut into his bedroom wall. He missed the constant, reassuring sound of singers soothing away the fears of night.

  He missed Susannah.

  He fell asleep wondering what he was doing in Windy Point at all.

  In the morning, he found out.

  He was late for breakfast, but the others were still lingering at their tables when he made it down through the winding corridors to the great dining hall where Adriel insisted on having nearly every meal. Instantly he realized that the guard at the gate had somewhat understated the case. There were a number of visitors sitting around the formal tables, drinking their morning juice and engaged in lively debate—Neri and three other angels from Monteverde; the Manadavvi patriarch Lucas Karsh as well as his most constant ally, Constantine Lesh; three Breven Jansai, including Solomon; and a few of the more wealthy Jordana landowners seated alongside the contingent of river merchants. Even more surprising, there was Mahalah sitting at a table with the oracles of Mount Egypt and Mount Sudan.