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“And eventually you can fly from point to point to anyplace in Samaria. ”
But that was going too fast for him. He shook his head. “It just doesn’t seem possible,” he said. “So many factors would have to be considered. The effect of the wind—the possibility of being blown off course—the fact that any man-made structure could be destroyed at any time and I would lose my point of reference. I could fly for miles in the wrong direction and be completely lost. ”
I flung my hands in the air. My fingers were practically icicles by now. “Fine! Find reasons it won’t work instead of trying to find ways it will,” I said. “I’m going inside before I freeze to death. ”
“It’s just that there are obstacles,” Corban argued, following me to the trapdoor and down the stairs. “I want to fly again, but I have to be careful. ”
I went straight to the table where our scraps of dinner remained and gulped down a glass of water. The singing and the arguing had left me parched. “Fine,” I said again. “I think you’re right to take it slowly. But I don’t think you should give up. ”
“I’m not giving up,” he said. “I just need more help. You have to come with me. ”
I almost choked on my last sip of water. “Come with you where?”
“The next time I fly. ”
I stared at him, unable to answer.
Oh, I’d been carried in an angel’s arms before. But not far, and not lately, and not of my own free will. I had no desire to repeat the experience. “No,” I said shortly. “But that’s the right idea. You can go anywhere you want if you bring someone with you to tell you where you are. ”
My words had roused his curiosity; he cocked his head. “You’re afraid to fly with an angel?” he asked. “You? You’re not afraid of anything. And you don’t think anyone else should be, either. ”
“I’m not afraid,” I said stiffly. “Just not interested. ”
“You sound afraid. ”
“Perhaps you’re not as good at reading emotions as you like to think. ”
“Is it the height? Some people are too petrified to even stand on top of a tall building. ”
“I don’t mind reasonable heights. Corban—”
“Have you ever flown before? It’s utterly magical. It’s not just being in the air, so high above everything, it’s the speed and the motion and the sense of—of—limitlessness. It seems like exactly the sort of thing you would love. ”
I was silent.
He knew precisely where I was, though, because he came a step closer to where I stood by the table. “You have flown,” he decided. “And you didn’t like it. Why not? Some angels are careless about the comfort of their human companions, I know. They go too high—they forget how cold it is for mortal flesh. ”
“And certainly you were never one of those thoughtless angels,” I said, hoping my sneering tone would make him drop the topic. “You’ve always been so considerate. ”
But he came closer still, brushing aside my words. “That can’t be it. I can’t see you suffering in silence, even to please an angel. You would have spoken up if the issue was merely discomfort. ”
I set down my water glass, turned away, and began stacking the dirty dishes on the tray. “I’m going to take these down to the kitchen—”
He caught my arm and turned me back to face him. His darkened eyes were half closed, as if to aid his other senses in picking up information I didn’t want to impart. “So you were in an angel’s arms, but you didn’t want to be,” he mused. “Maybe you were embroiled in some kind of legal dispute. Perhaps—were you being brought to an angel hold for a trial? Or even a sentencing?”
Again I refused to answer, but I knew he could feel me trembling. I didn’t even bother trying to pull away; his grip was too tight, and I already knew how strong he was.
“An adjudication,” he decided. “Your word against someone else’s. What was the accusation? And who was your accuser?”
“I’ll tell you if you let me go. ”
He smiled, genuinely amused. “If I let you go, you’ll run from the room. ”
“Corban, this is an old story. ”
“But one that still haunts you,” he said. “I want to hear it. ” When I still didn’t answer, he prompted, “At least tell me where the trial occurred. If an angel was transporting you, you must have gone to one of the holds. ”
“The Eyrie,” I said reluctantly.
His eyebrows rose. “And your case was put before the Archangel?”
“Yes. ”
“Impressive! Who was your accuser?”
“My employer. A Manadavvi lord who owned property up by Monteverde. ”
“And what was the crime?”
I took a deep breath. “Attempted murder. ”
That surprised him so much he actually released me. I almost bolted for the door, but I knew it was pointless. Even if I made good my escape, he would just insist on hearing the tale some other day. He would give me no peace until he knew the details—or until I left him, and the Gabriel School, behind.
I was so tired of running.
“I tried to kill a man,” I said in an even voice. “And my only regret is that I was unsuccessful. ”
Corban nodded and, to my surprise, pulled out one of the narrowbacked chairs. “I think this is a story I have to hear straight through,” he said, dropping down and arranging his wings behind him. “So why don’t you sit and tell it from the beginning?”
I slowly took a seat across from him. He poured more water, first for himself, then for me, not spilling a drop. It was the first time I’d wished that Alma had included wine with the angel’s dinner.
“A few years ago, I got a job working in a Manadavvi household—”
“From the beginning,” he interrupted. “Farther back than that. ”
Sweet Jovah singing, he wanted to trace the entire route of my life. I grimaced, though he couldn’t see me, and began speaking with exaggerated patience. “I told you. I was an angel-seeker’s daughter, and for years I ran wild on the streets of Monteverde. One day I was begging for bread at a bakery when the owner said she needed extra hands in the kitchen, and if I’d work for my keep she’d train me in a profession. I was smart enough to say yes, and I stayed with her for thirteen years. ”
I shrugged. Dorothea had been practical, honest, exhausted, and not particularly warm; I’d never come to love her, and she’d never loved me. But I respected her, and I learned a lot from her, and I explored every building and byway in Monteverde when I was making deliveries for her business.
“When she got old enough to retire, she sold the bakery to her nephew and helped me look for another situation. The nephew and I had never gotten along,” I added. Not since I’d kneed him in the groin after he tried to slip a hand under my shirt. “I ended up taking a position in the household of a Manadavvi lord—a good job, anyone would have thought. ”
“But it didn’t turn out that way. ”
“It started out pretty well,” I said. “The pay was good, the work was no harder than I was used to, and I got along with most of the other servants. ” I had become particularly friendly with a woman about my age with antecedents even fuzzier than my own. I always assumed Olive was the bastard child of a Manadavvi landowner and one of his housemaids. She had that Manadavvi look to her, all high cheekbones and flawless skin. All the grooms and footmen were wild for her, but she was good at holding them off. It was going to be marriage or nothing for Olive. She didn’t want to go her mother’s route, that was plain; she talked about saving enough money to start her own business in Monteverde or one of the river towns. Actually, we talked about pooling our resources and going into business together. It was the first time I could remember having a dream.
“I can guess what happened,” Corban said quietly. “The lord took an interest in you, rather forcefully, and you protested. ”
I made a small snorting so
und. “Oh, no, I wasn’t built to catch an aristocrat’s eye,” I said. “And I knew how to dress and how to behave so I didn’t get the kind of attention I didn’t want. But another girl—Olive. She was the one the lord couldn’t stop thinking about. ”
We developed the habit of working in pairs, and I at least always kept a knife concealed under my skirts. But Olive wasn’t afraid of him; she didn’t seem to realize he was dangerous. She avoided him when she could, but she didn’t lie awake at night and worry what he might do to her.
As she should have.
She also didn’t spend her free hours sneaking around the ancient, labyrinthine mansion, exploring which stairways led where and which servants’ doors opened onto private suites. As I did. There was a day I could have navigated that entire fifty-room house if I had been as blind as Corban. I knew passageways that I swear no one but me remembered. Even the mice had forgotten them.