“I will make an Edori of him yet—you’ll see,” she murmured when she bumped against Eleazar at the noon meal.
“The allali and the foreigner—yes, those are true Edori,” he retorted, but he was still smiling.
“I will show you,” she promised. “You will be proud to know me.”
Unexpectedly, for he was not the most demonstrative man, he leaned over and hugged her. “Ah, Miriam,” he said roughly. “I am proud of you every day.”
“I think you should—” she began, but she was interrupted by a scream from across the camp.
She spun around. Eleazar whirled and dropped into a hunting crouch, his hand going to the knife on his belt. Another scream. The noise seemed to be coming from the head of the camp, the place that they passed through to get into the sheltered land against the mountain. Miriam and Eleazar ran forward, along with Amram and Anna and Bartholomew, to find everyone else bunched up at the narrow place in the mountain that led to open land. Shua was screaming and pointing, and everyone else was staring, frozen in terror or dread.
“What is it? What is it?” Eleazar was shouting. He had paused somewhere in their mad dash across the ground to snatch up a crossbow.
But it would do no good. Anyone could see it would do no good. Facing them across the narrow divide was a line of foreign marauders, dressed in their black suits and shiny hats, and leveling an array of fire sticks at the Edori camp.
C hapter T wenty-seven
Gaaron took off from the Eyrie with all of his bones feeling so heavy that he was not sure he could muster the strength to fling his body into the air. Indeed, it took more energy than he could ever remember expending to flex his wings for each separate downbeat that would drive him higher into the atmosphere. His body seemed made of bronze, cold and heavy; his feathers were made of enamel, showy and useless. The winter air glided against his skin like a cold and eager serpent.
What did it matter, after all, if his bride did not love him? If she loved another man? She was still a good woman; she would be an excellent angelica. She would superbly carry out all the tasks for which she had been selected. Jovah had consulted, not Gaaron’s heart, but his own grand scheme for Samaria when he cast his eyes over the women of the world and laid his hand upon this one. It was stupid to feel so betrayed.
It was wrong to feel such anger at the god.
The thing was, Gaaron was not sure he would be able to unlove Susannah. He had not really given much thought to love itself, even when Mahalah had told him he must take a wife, even when he had brought that wife home. It had been his duty, one of his large collection of duties, and he had accepted it along with the other responsibilities that had piled up on him. The god said, “Marry,” and he had found a bride. He had not thought the command would be, “Fall in love.” He had had no practice with that.
Which was why, perhaps, this love for Susannah had hit him so hard. He did not know what to do with it; it was awkward and unwieldy, it made him clumsy with words and actions. But it was such a big thing, and such a pervasive one. It took up so many of his scattered thoughts, occupied such a large region inside his chest. He could not fold it down small enough to make it a comfortable burden, something he could slip inside a pocket and take out only when he wanted to admire it.
Now, of course, it was even worse. His sense of black betrayal was even larger than his secret love; it was so big it engulfed him, covered him from wingtip to wingtip. He could not fly fast enough to outpace it, or far enough to leave it behind. It would be awaiting him, panting and sly, on the high peak of Windy Point, and it would accompany him all the way to the icy hills of Monteverde.
For this, the god had sought him out and marked him. For all his service to Jovah, this was his bitter reward.
Adriel was happy to see him and had news of her own. “Four of my angels were flying from Luminaux to Semorrah,” she told him. “Carrying a large marble slab, maybe six feet by eight feet. You can imagine how awkward, one of them at each corner.”
A little amusement seeped through his black mood. “Why would they be given such a commission?”
“Because Colton of Semorrah wanted it, of course, and he couldn’t wait! He’s such a pompous ass. And none of the Luminaux drivers would agree to transport it, for fear of being attacked on the road. So after he harassed me for three weeks, I agreed to have my angels act as carriers—although they were not, I can tell you, exactly thrilled about it.”
“So then what happened?”
“They were flying north along the Galilee, and they came across a band of marauders in the act of burning down a Jansai camp. They were flying low, of course, because the marble was heavy and they were making many stops, and so they could see everything most clearly. One of them let out a yell, and they were all so startled, they dropped the slab. Which landed in the middle of the invaders and crushed them all to death. Well, not all of them,” Adriel amended, “but several of them. The rest all did that thing where they disappear.”
“Excellent!” Gaaron approved, feeling actually quite happy at the news. “What did the angels do next?”
“They landed, of course, to see if there was anything they could do for the Jansai. Some of the travelers were severely hurt, so my angels took them back to Luminaux. None of the Jansai had been killed, though five of the invaders were.”
“And what did they do with those bodies?”
Adriel gave him a look of revulsion. “What would you expect them to do with the bodies? They were left for the wild dogs.”
Gaaron shrugged. Too late, then. “I would have thought—we could have examined them to see in what ways they might differ from us. If nothing else, look at their clothes and their weapons and see what we might learn.”
“None of their weapons were left behind,” Adriel said positively. “My angels did look. The ones who disappeared took everything.”
“And what happened to Colton’s marble slab?”
Adriel could not help a smile. “Destroyed. Shattered into a dozen pieces upon impact.”
“Is it possible I can imagine Colton’s reaction to this?”
“Quite possible, I would think. I have told him the hold will absorb the cost, and the Luminaux craftsmen will undertake to make him a second one at all speed. Apparently it takes some months to get the carving done just right, however, so Colton is not happy with me for using his marble as a weapon.”
“That’s public-spirited,” Gaaron said dryly.
Adriel smiled. “I’m sure he would have been happier to contribute to the cause if it had been a merchant caravan that we had saved from destruction. But he doesn’t have much use for Jansai.”
“Well, this is good news,” Gaaron said thoughtfully. “I wonder . . . I know you have people working on weapons of our own. And I know you know how I feel about that. But—while we are still debating that—perhaps we can insure that all angels go armed? We cannot fly about carrying large blocks of marble, of course, but—rocks? Other heavy objects? If all angels carry a sack of stones across their shoulders whenever they fly a patrol, they could provide some firepower if they came across an attack in progress. You can kill a man with ease if you drop a stone on his head from a hundred feet.”
Adriel looked intrigued. “It would certainly create a disturbance. And from what we have seen so far, these marauders do not seem inclined to stage a pitched battle. At the first sign of resistance they”—she snapped her fingers—“vanish. So a few well-aimed rocks just might scare them off. Temporarily, at any rate.”
Gaaron came to his feet. He had only been there a couple of hours and already he was restless. He wanted to go back to the Eyrie, see Susannah again. Tell her nothing, of course, make no speeches or accusations—be only civil and polite—but see her. That would be enough for him. “We must carry the word to Monteverde,” he said.
Adriel watched him. “Yes, we will. I will send someone out right now. But you do not have to leave right this moment. Sit down, Gaaron. Tell me what is going
on at your hold.”
Reluctantly, he sat again, though he didn’t exactly relax against the thin back of the chair. “It is chaos in Velora,” he said. “My merchants are doing what they can to impose some kind of order, but the city is too full and the tensions are too high. We cannot exist this way for long.”
“Breven has become a nightmare city,” she responded, nodding. “There is a murder a day there between one gypsy chief or another. Solomon assures me that he can control the Jansai, but he has not been too successful so far. I worry about what happens when the hot weather comes. Tempers will run even higher. We will not have to wait for the invaders to attack us. We will destroy ourselves.”
Gaaron shook his head. “We must solve it before then. Before the Gloria. How can we sing to the glory of the god if we are looking over our shoulders, waiting to be attacked?”
“But if have not solved it by then—”
“We will.”
She hesitated, then shrugged and smiled. Nothing to be gained by arguing. “We must solve it much sooner,” she said, her voice grown playful. “By your wedding day. Everyone must feel safe to come to that. How do the plans go on?”
“Quite well, or so I assume,” he said. “Susannah and Esther are handling most of the details.”
“Have the invitations been sent out?”
“As I said—”
“You don’t know,” she finished up for him. “I will have to rely on receiving word from Susannah. I liked her a great deal, you know.”
“She is quite a favorite with everyone,” he said in a wooden voice.
Adriel leaned forward, her soft face lined with concern. Blessed Jovah, she had aged in this past year. She should not be so gray and faded; she was only in her mid-fifties. “Is there trouble between you and the angelica?” she asked in a gentle voice.
Gaaron drew back as far as his chair would allow. “I assure you, we are working out the details of our lives to our own satisfaction.”
Adriel shook her head. “She is a good girl, Susannah. She would be a good wife to any man—she would understand that the god mixes the good with the bad, and that she could not expect her life to be nothing but happiness. She would try very hard before she would give up. But I don’t think you should underestimate her, Gaaron. I think she is quite capable of walking away if her situation is bad enough. I don’t think this is a woman who will tolerate any abuse.”
He was offended. “And what leads you to think that I would abuse anyone in my care?”
She made a careless motion with her hand. “Perhaps that is the wrong word. There are ways to treat someone badly without actually harming her. I would be very careful, if I were you, to treat Susannah well. You do not want her to leave you.”
He thought about Susannah as he had first seen her, living with the Edori and deeply in love with her unfaithful lover. She had left Dathan without a single farewell. And had only spoken his name again in dreaming. “She can’t leave me,” he said stiffly. “It is the god’s will that she serve beside me.”
“Perhaps she does not interpret the god’s will quite as you do,” Adriel said dryly.
“In any case,” Gaaron said, “there is no need for you to trouble yourself about Susannah.”
“I am more worried about you.”
“And less reason for you to worry about me. Now, would I be rude if I asked you to feed me? I have flown all morning, and I’m starved.”
They ate, and then they spent a few hours clambering over the treacherous broken ground that lay all around Windy Point, looking for suitable rocks. Half a dozen of the other angels joined them, calling out jokes to one another and seeming to find the whole thing something of a lark, but Gaaron was deadly serious. He experimented with different weights and sizes of stones, heaving them off the mountain peak to see how they felt as they left his hand. Adriel had lent him a sturdy burlap bag, and he filled it to the top, hefting it from time to time to see if he would still be able to carry it. But it was no heavier than many of the burdens he had carried from one end of the province to another—his sister, his angelica, other mortals. He would manage just fine.
He lingered a day at Windy Point because Adriel asked him to, though the stay made him restless. She had sent angels on to Monteverde with their combined news, so there was no reason for him to push on west, and there was certainly no reason to hurry home. But he had trouble sleeping and his thoughts would not settle, and he did not want to be anyplace but at the Eyrie. So when he rose the next morning, he would not let Adriel convince him to stay another day.
“I will see you soon enough,” he promised, kissing her on the cheek. “At the wedding, if not before.”
“Fly carefully,” she admonished. “Give Susannah my love.”
He smiled. “I will do both those things.”
But as it turned out, he did neither. He flew low to the ground, seeking out trouble, a rock in his hand ready to be thrown. He traveled later than he should have, and then had trouble finding a suitable town to stop in for the night, and he even considered making a cold camp somewhere on the Bethel side of the Galilee. But he certainly did not want to die a solitary death on the open field at the hands of armed marauders, so he kept on till he found a town that boasted an impressive collection of inns. The bed was unexpectedly comfortable, and the breakfast the next morning surprisingly good, and he was actually in a cheerful mood as he headed for home.
Where it turned out he could not give Susannah any greetings from Adriel, because she was not there.
No one seemed to have any precise knowledge about where she had gone, or why, or how long she would be gone. All they could tell him was when she had left.
“You had only been gone a few hours,” Esther informed him. “Jesse came in from Monteverde looking for you, but you weren’t here, so he left a letter in your chambers. I haven’t read it, of course,” she said, which made him think it had been closed with a seal, “so I don’t know what it was about.”
“What does Jesse have to do with Susannah?”
“She left with him.”
He frowned. “She wanted to go to Monteverde?”
Esther frowned in turn. “I’m not sure Monteverde was where he was going next. He said he had several stops to make. Perhaps he was going somewhere else Susannah wanted to visit.”
“Yes, but where would that have been?” Gaaron asked patiently.
She shrugged. “She didn’t tell me anything.”
She hadn’t told Keren much, either, or Chloe or Sela or Zibiah—though Keren, at least, would speculate. “Oh! I know! Perhaps she went to see the others.”
“What others?”
“The Lohoras. You know she was worried about them.”
“I thought you weren’t sure where their winter camp might be.”
Keren shrugged. “No, of course I’m not sure, but they are so often by the Galo mountain. You remember, we talked about it one night at dinner.”
He did remember it, quite distinctly, for he had had to choke down a most unworthy feeling of jealousy as Susannah had spoken with such concern of her missing families. “Can you show me again?” he said. “I may want to go find her.”
Keren shrugged. “But they might not be there.”
“But then, where would Susannah be?”
“Somewhere else, looking for them. Or for the Tachitas.”
She could, in fact, be anywhere, and his chances of finding her appeared smaller and smaller as the day wore on. But he would look for her, nonetheless. How could he leave her alone and unprotected on the open Samarian plains? This was a season too dangerous to allow for a show of rebellion. When the marauders were turned back—when Samaria was safe again—then she could leave the Eyrie for any destination she chose, for as long as she liked. But not now.
Naturally, he could not, as he would have liked, leave right away to hunt for Susannah. Esther had questions—visiting petitioners had questions—the Velora merchants had left an urgent request for him to come join
them at his earliest convenience—and Neri’s letter (some trifling trade question) had to be answered. So it was morning before he could annoy Esther and leave the rest of the hold somewhat mystified by announcing he was leaving again and did not know when he would be back.
It took even longer to get to Mount Galo than it had taken to get to Windy Point. The air was icy, blowing straight down from the oceans north of the Plain of Sharon and following the course of the Galilee River south to the end of the world. Pinpricks of sleet needled his cheeks and his arms as he headed straight into the wind, and he could feel a film of frost forming in his hair. The current was against him, so he did not make very good time, and he elected to stop in Semorrah for the night, though he would have liked to push on farther.
If he had been the diplomat Adriel was, he would have gone to the house of Lord Colton and asked to spend the night. His very presence would confer quite a cachet on the lord’s house and make up for whatever inconvenience his sudden appearance might cause. But Gaaron was not the easy social talker that Adriel was—and he did not particularly like Lord Colton. He headed instead to one of the more genteel hotels that catered to an affluent clientele. There, an unctuous concierge ushered him personally to the grandest room in the building, a white, spacious, cool, and exceptionally comfortable room fitted with furniture meant for an angel. Gaaron thanked him gravely and settled in for the night.
It was already dark, and once he had cleaned himself up, he strode to the window to look out at the city. By night, Semorrah was even more magical than it was by day, filled with a thousand fairy lights and decorated with mysterious swoops of shadowed white architecture. Although it did not seem quite so magical this night as Gaaron opened his window and looked down. There were crowds in the street even this late—workers laboring by torchlight to erect yet another building in this city that could not build fast enough—wealthy revelers returning home late from some elegant party—dispossessed farmers and miners bedded down in the streets, shouting out insults at the merchants as they passed. In the half hour that he watched, Gaaron witnessed two altercations between separate groups, each of which deteriorated into physical violence. Both were stopped quickly and effectively by Semorrah’s night watchmen.