Angelica

  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.

  She didn’t really care what she ate at any meal from now till she died, let alone what she had for breakfast on the day she married Gaaron. Life was so strange now that she could not imagine a wedding making things any better, so it was hardly something she wanted to celebrate, or even think about. She just wanted to sleep.

  Still, after an hour of dutifully singing harmonics in the chilly cupola, she returned to the kitchen to see what Esther had come across now.

  “I got it from a chef in Luminaux—a good friend of mine,” Esther said a little smugly. “It is practically nothing but sugar and butter, but, see, the recipe calls for a touch of cream, very rich and delicate—”

  “I can’t tell much from a recipe,” Susannah apologized. She had said those exact same words about thirty times in the past few weeks, but Esther continued to insist on handing her a list of ingredients as if it was the most wonderful treat in the world. “I’m sure it will be delicious.”

  “But, Susannah, you must decide,” Esther said. “This pastry or the almond-nut one? We could do both, but I think that might be too much dough, since we’re also having the fresh-baked bread and the cherry tarts—unless you don’t want the tarts, and I think that would be a mistake, and you can’t not have bread with the meal.”

  “Esther! I simply don’t care!” Susannah exclaimed. “Serve what you like! Plan the entire menu! It doesn’t matter to me if we eat dried meat and raw prairie grass! I—just—don’t—care.”

  Esther was staring at her. The few women left in the kitchen, still wiping down stove and ovens, gaped at one another and then back at her. Susannah put her hands to her cheeks, which should have been hot with mortification. But instead they were cool and dry, waxy with indifference and exhaustion.

  “I’m sorry,” Susannah said abruptly. “I’m not—I’m not feeling well. I have a great deal on my mind, and food for the wedding is not something I worry about much. Because I know whatever you choose will be perfect. Now you must excuse me . . .” And making no attempt to add anything to that inadequate apology, she blundered from the kitchen and through the hallways to her room.

  Where she burst out crying and did not think she could ever stop.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid. So many things in the world that mattered more than her own lonely heart. It was small-minded and self-indulgent to feel sorry for herself because nobody loved her and this sham of a marriage would only underscore that. It was stupid to think now of Dathan, who was merry and faithless, and whom she had not loved or even thought about for weeks now. It was stupid to think of Gaaron, big and blind and awkward with women, but so good, so strong and so steady and so kind to her, but so oblivious, completely unable to read the emotions that Susannah felt must be painted on her face.

  She crossed to her window and opened the glass, letting the cold starlight rush in. If Miriam were only here—if Miriam were only safe—if Chloe or Zibiah or Keren or even Kaski were here—she would not feel so alone and worthless. She missed the warmth of a second body in the bed, the sound of breathing in the night. She missed—Yovah, she missed being loved.

  She knew the god loved her, for the god loved everybody, but sometimes that simply was not enough.

  She remembered standing here, in this room, at this window, the first week she had been brought to the Eyrie. A thousand years ago, that seemed, and much had changed since then. But that day she had been depressed by solitude and crushed by loneliness, and tonight she felt at least as abandoned and betrayed as she had felt then. She folded her elbows on the sill, and rested her head on her arms, and let the winter air turn her teardrops to ice.

  When the chime sounded at the door, she was too stiff and frozen to turn and call a welcome. No need to, since the chime was immediately followed by the door being thrown open and Gaaron striding in.

  “Susannah? Are you here? It’s late, I hope you’re not sleeping—”

  She straightened quickly and stepped away from the window. She had only two candles lit, and the room was dark, but light enough for her to see the excitement on his face. Too dark, she hoped, for him to see the frost on hers. “What is it?” she said, trying to make her voice sound normal. “Good news?”

  He laughed. “I hope so! Though it doesn’t sound like good news to begin with. There was another attack—”

  “Oh no!”

  “On one of the towns on the western coast. Small place, but maybe five hundred people. They’d been alerted, of course—everyone has been—so they had men standing guard, even at night.”

  “But—against men with those fire sticks—what could they do even if they were standing guard, unless they had weapons of their own?”

  “That’s just it! They had crossbows—well,
not crossbows, exactly, but something like them that they use to catch big fish off the coast. So they were standing guard, and these black men showed up and aimed their fire sticks at them. And the men shot back with their crossbows, and wounded some of the invaders, and there was a lot of noise and yelling, but then the best part. One of the arrows from the crossbow hit one of the fire sticks and caused it to explode or something. Huge fireball right in the middle of the crowd of black men, and some of them burned up and they were all screaming. And then the rest of them disappeared,” Gaaron added. He was speaking so fast it was hard to understand all his words, but he was clearly thrilled. “So the town held fast! They turned back the enemy! It was such good news I could hardly believe it.”

  Susannah stepped closer to him. Even her feet were numb; she must have stayed at the window longer than she realized. “Gaaron, that’s wonderful,” she said as warmly as she could. “Perhaps if these black men learn we can fight back, they’ll go away and leave us alone. Have you told Adriel and the others? Because certainly there are men and women throughout the provinces who can use a crossbow.”

  “No, I just found out this afternoon. I’ll be off for Windy Point in the morning. Yes, this is news I’ll be happy to spread—though it might just have been a lucky shot, and maybe all fire sticks don’t explode like that, but it’s something to try. It gives us a defense.”

  “Does it change your mind about weapons?”

  “No,” he said seriously. “What I have not wanted is the technology for destruction. I do not want us to develop an appetite for firepower. I do not like where that hunger leads. But this is something simple, and useful, and designed for another purpose, and so it does not seem chancy to me.” He smiled a little, the faint expression hard to read in the shadowed room. “I don’t know, perhaps that makes me inconsistent. I just do not want to develop weapons that we will someday turn upon ourselves.”