“Only if one of them is dedicated. I can roughly track the physical location of that person’s Kiss and relay the information to you.”
She thought hard. At the moment, she could remember no Edori who wore a Kiss in his arm, but there must be one or two in that assortment of people who had been, long ago, dedicated to the god. If not, surely she could persuade Thomas or one of the others to submit to having a Kiss implanted, if she explained why she asked for the favor.
“Thank you, Jovah,” she whispered. “You are very good.”
“I exist to do your will,” he said.
She smiled a little. “And all this time, I thought angels existed to do yours. The world is not at all as I had believed it.”
“Yet the world is the same as it always was. It is merely that you see with new eyes.”
“And might I live long enough to see the world yet again as a place completely different, through eyes that see another truth not yet revealed?”
“I have given you the truth as I know it,” Jovah replied. “I cannot predict what else you might learn.”
“I will try not to be afraid of it, whatever it is,” she said, moving slowly to the center of the bridge. She did not want to think too closely about how soon, if ever, she would return to this place, and she did not want to linger too long, memorizing details against the possibility that she would never come back. “Have you finished my map yet?”
“The navigational charts? Yes, they have been deposited in the silver basket by the power reactor gauge.”
She looked quickly for the silver basket and found a neat pile of papers that carried an impressive array of numbers and diagrams. “I wonder if these will make sense to my Edori,” she murmured.
“I have included a simple map, drawn to scale, which anyone should be able to read,” he told her. “There are also star charts taken from a land-based position, which any navigator should be able to decipher. They will do some good, I believe. You will have to translate the words, of course, before you pass them along.”
“That I believe I can do,” she said, moving back to the middle of the room. “And now, one final request, Jehovah.”
“And what is that, Alleluia?”
“Teleport.”
Alleya spent the whole next day seated before the Sinai interface, typing in names of the Edori and anything she could remember about individuals and families. When she looked away from the sapphire screen, her eyes saw pink rectangles on the cool stone walls. Twice, she took long breaks, rubbing away the soreness in her neck and her fingers, shaking the stiffness from her knees. She should have dictated all this information while she was still aboard the ship; it would have been much faster and at least as accurate.
She had thought she would feel impatience at this slow, awkward method of speaking to Jovah, now that she knew how easy it was to ask a question and have him respond; but in fact, she rather liked the distance created by the flat screen and the buttons on the keyboard. This gave her time to think, helped her reassess her own place in the order of the world. This was a task, no matter how specialized, that seemed right and familiar. This was how Samarians were supposed to communicate with Jovah.
When she had told him all she knew, she asked if he had any questions for her, and he did not. He then asked if she had any questions for him, and she did, but only one.
“Who should be angelico to the Archangel?” she typed in.
His response was immediate, the name she had most hoped to see. She smiled and turned away from the screen. She must be on her way to Breven in the morning. And after that, to the Eyrie.
Where Caleb would be waiting.
Later, Caleb heard the story told with much embellishment, some of it ridiculous, but all of it eerily catching the flavor of the event. For he was there, and it did seem a momentous occasion, and he was not surprised to hear it described as if it were an event from the Librera itself.
“And there was a crowd that day on the main plateau of the Eyrie, right where the grand staircase empties. For word had spread throughout Velora, throughout the three realms, that Delilah was whole again and claimed her right to be Archangel. And there had been much anger and much speculation, for there were many who had never cared for Alleluia and would be glad to see her gone, and just as many who felt Delilah had lost her place and had no right to try to take it back.
“And just past noon, as the crowd milled about waiting to hear what the angels might have to say, a wild shout went out from the throats of the people gathered there, and many hands began pointing to the sky overhead. And above them, her arms outstretched and her wings perfectly still, seeming to merely float down to the earth, was the angel Alleluia. The sun made a halo of her golden hair and the air around her seemed to sizzle with a burning light. Closer and closer she came, so slowly she seemed not to move at all. Angels poured from every door in the Eyrie to see what had caused the commotion, but soon enough the howling crowd grew still, waiting for the angel to arrive.
“At last she came to a halt, her feet just inches above the stone, hovering in the air though not a single feather of her wings fluttered. And from her spread hands, sunlight dripped in a jeweled display, and she was too bright to look upon.
“And she spoke in a voice so soft it would not have wakened a babe in arms, and yet so clear that everyone in the hold could hear. And she said, ‘Behold, I bring glad tidings. Who was lost is found. Who was broken is mended. The angel Delilah is among us again, and she soars on her glorious wings. Jovah, who has long loved her, has claimed her as his own again. Let the word go out to all men and all angels, that Archangel Delilah once again rules over Samaria.’
“And then there was such a clamor that no single word, no single voice could be heard, and not even Alleluia herself could persuade the crowd to listen. And then, while the bright angel still hovered above the plateau, a second shape, a dark angel, separated itself from the crowd and rose to Alleluia’s side. Those two embraced as they soared above mankind, and it was as if the glory of the bright angel enveloped the dark angel, and soon they were both aglow with a light too fierce to bear.”
Close enough, Caleb thought, the first time he heard the story; close enough, for he had been there. He was among the hundreds, the thousands, of people packed into the Eyrie, awaiting Alleya’s return with an impatience so great it almost amounted to a fever.
He had been unable to get close enough to Delilah to speak with her, to upbraid her for her treachery and tell her to her face that, had he suspected what she would do with her restored wings, he would have left her in pieces till the day she died. Delilah, after her one dramatic announcement, had disappeared into the maze of the Eyrie and had not re-emerged. And, not surprisingly, no one who did not live there was allowed past the gateways on the great plateau.
Caleb had managed one quick, impassioned conversation with old Samuel, who took his turn guarding the entrances to the labyrinth. “How could she? How could she do such a thing?” he demanded, but Samuel merely shrugged.
“She is Delilah. Of course she would reclaim her own.”
“And you will accept it? You will deny Alleya her place?”
“Delilah’s claim is by no means certain,” Samuel said somewhat bleakly. “There are those here, and in the other holds, who will refuse to acknowledge her. Asher is livid—we have had to restrain him, for he swears he will accost the angel Delilah and make her a cripple again.”
“It is what I would do,” Caleb said fiercely, though he knew he would not. But he might use words in an effect almost as wounding.
Samuel smiled sadly. “Thus do angels lead men in harmony,” he said. “I cannot see to the end of this bitter day.”
But the old angel (for to him Caleb attributed whatever amenities continued to exist) was able to keep the throng under control and the Eyrie itself peaceable. All through that tense morning, soothing music poured from above, angels and mortals singing their incessant duets, choosing (or so it seemed) the most calming melodies in their reper
toires. Refreshments were passed among the crowd, and there were always at least three angels available to answer questions. Though they had no real answers, and there were only two questions: Where is Alleluia? What will the angels decide?
When, late that day, the small winged form took shape overhead, the response was immediate and verbal. Caleb, staring desperately upward like all the others, felt his heart contract with a new spasm of worry. He wished he had a minute to warn her, to give her a chance to brace herself. But perhaps she did have some kind of advance knowledge. Certainly, she made her descent in the most leisurely fashion, as if to draw attention, as if to make sure no one missed her arrival. And indeed, she seemed bathed in a divine light, as if she had been dipped in opal, and it was hard to look at her for too long.
By the time she finally made her landing (and her feet did touch the ground, albeit on a small pile of stones that put her about a yard above the crowd), there was dead silence and an almost palpable aura of waiting. Even the angels, who had poured out of the Eyrie in response to the uproar—even Delilah—stood motionless, speechless, waiting to hear what the angel had come to proclaim.
Alleluia spread her hands as if in benediction; and she smiled. “Good news,” she said in that fey voice that everyone, even the god, could always hear. “Jovah tells me that the angel Delilah has been made whole again and that she once again takes wing to offer him her prayers. Celebrate with me, good people of Samaria, for the Archangel Delilah is returned to us! Glad tidings on this day of great joy.”
Everyone around Caleb surged forward with a roar of exultation. Caleb himself fell backward, stupid with surprise. Could she mean it? Or was she simply feigning her pleasure, yielding gracefully to Delilah to avoid the ugliest battle imaginable? She had never wanted to be Archangel, after all, but surely even Alleya would feel some resentment at giving up a position of such power and adulation.
He was forced from his musings at the next unexpected sight: Delilah throwing herself over the crowd and into Alleya’s arms. It was impossible to hear what the two angels said as the dark head burrowed under those golden tresses, but surely Alleya lifted Delilah’s chin and kissed her on the cheek. Then Alleya said something else privately to Delilah, and she smiled; and Delilah, who now appeared to be crying, smiled back.
Alleya turned her attention back to the clamoring crowd and flung one hand out for silence. Which she was instantly accorded. “Jovah has entrusted me to tell you of two more appointments,” she said, “which I hope you will like as well. For Delilah’s angelico—”
And the instant before she said it, Caleb knew what the name would be.
“Jovah has selected the Edori called Noah, a good man with a clear eye and a sweet voice. He will arrive in a day or two, and I want all of you to welcome him, for Jovah’s sake, and the Archangel’s and his own.”
A polite smattering of applause went up while people leaned toward their neighbors and whispered their disbelief. An Edori? It had not happened since Jovah chose Rachel for Gabriel, and even then she had not been true Edori, only adopted by that indiscriminate tribe. Nonetheless, they would do their best, they seemed to say; and for his own part, Caleb could not repress a grin. How far this particular Edori had traveled! Almost as far, in a way, as he would have journeyed from Samaria to Ysral, though the borders were invisible and the hazards less chancy. Still, there would be plenty of both.
“Jovah also asked me to inform you that a new oracle has stepped forward to fill the vacant post at Mount Sinai,” Alleya was saying, and the crowd quieted to hear her last pronouncement. “And that oracle is me. I hope this appointment pleases you as well.”
And now the response was thunderous for, although most ordinary men and women had only a hazy idea of an oracle’s duties, they knew the position was one of power and responsibility—certainly a respectable post for a displaced Archangel. For his part, Caleb saw the incredulity he felt mirrored on Delilah’s face, on the faces of the other angels and a few of the mortals who stood nearby. An angel as oracle? It had never happened before. Could such a thing be fitting? And yet, an oracle merely conferred with the god. Surely an angel was well-suited for that task.
Well enough, Caleb thought as his initial astonishment wore off. In fact, good—excellent—the best thing of all. She alone knows Jovah as he truly is. And she alone can keep us all safe. And he lifted his hands over his head and pounded them together, loosing three wild whistles of approbation. A faint smile crossed Alleya’s face, and he knew she had spotted him in the crowd, and was pleased that he understood her.
This time, the assembly was quieted by Delilah’s hand held out in a gesture of supplication. But when, silence achieved, Delilah turned to Alleya, her tone and her stance still bespoke entreaty.
“The Gloria is in five weeks,” said the Archangel. “And my angelico and I must sing to the glory of Jovah. Will you sing at my side on the Plain of Sharon? For the god loves your voice—and so do I.”
For a split second Alleya hesitated—clearly this had caught her by surprise—and then she smiled and nodded. “I will be glad to sing with you, angela,” she said. “For the harmony of the angels is what pleases Jovah the most.”
At that, the crowd went mad, and there was nothing to do but submit to the tide of joyous furor. Caleb fought his way to a back wall, out of harm’s way, to wait out the tempest. He was still recovering from the multiple shocks of the afternoon, but it seemed to him that Alleya had orchestrated the event pretty much as she had wanted. And if she was happy, then he had no quarrels.
He smiled broadly and then he laughed, not with mirth but joy. For this brief moment, at least, everything in his world was in perfect harmony. Which was just as Jovah desired.
Five weeks later, a crowd of nearly ten thousand gathered on the Plain of Sharon. It was the largest group ever assembled to hear or perform the Gloria, though there had been very few of the problems usually associated with setting up a substantial if temporary city. Days in advance, vendors from all three provinces had unpacked their booths; enterprising hoteliers had arranged rows of tents to be rented out by private parties; the angels from all three holds had arrived with their own well-constructed pavilions.
It seemed the whole world was here. Caleb, strolling through the makeshift streets, watched a parade of people pass by, from rich young merchants’ sons to the veiled Jansai women to the mischievous brown Edori children who played running games up and down these crowded avenues. Despite the volatile mix of classes—rich Manadavvi landowners brushing elbows with farmers’ daughters—everyone seemed to co-exist in smiling good humor. For the weather was fine and the Archangel was restored and all was right with the world; what was left to quarrel over?
Caleb was glad to see the Gloria finally arrive, for the last five weeks had passed in a blur of motion that somehow left him on the outside. The two people he cared about most, Noah and Alleya, had had only moments here and there to spare for him, and he had tried nobly to refrain from demanding more of their attention. Noah, of course, had been closeted in the music rooms, learning a mass with Delilah’s help; Alleya had been half the time in Velora and half the time away, consulting with the other oracles. Caleb had entertained himself by visiting with the Edori engineer Daniel, working with him to try to find new uses for the marvelous batteries.
He had managed to snag a few precious hours with Alleya, who was in high spirits. He had been dumbstruck when she told him about her visit to the spaceship—dumbstruck and jealous.
“I can’t believe it,” he said, “after the promise you extracted from me—”
“I know. I realize it was unfair.”
“So now must I force a similar vow from you? That you will not return without me? Notice I do not demand that you never return.”
“I don’t think I will, though. I don’t think I should.”
“But if you do—”
“But if I do. Yes. I will inform you, and we will go hand in hand. Does that satisfy you?”
He smiled down at her. “Nothing will satisfy me until I have you to myself for a day or two.”
She actually took the time to blush, although, even as they spoke, she was restlessly moving around the room packing items for the Gloria. It had seemed to scandalize no one when he essentially moved into her quarters at the Eyrie, and so he stayed there whether she was present or not. “Hard to imagine when that might be,” she said.
“After the Gloria?”
“After that. But then, of course, there is all the work of making Mount Sinai a functioning sanctuary again. Some renovations must be done, and I will need acolytes, and to find them I will have to woo the likely parents—mostly the merchants and the landowners, but I want to reach some of the independent farmers, as well, and perhaps some of the factory workers. And there is a child in Chahiela—I think she would make an excellent acolyte. Perhaps even a priestess, if she shows a bent for it, though she’s a little young to know—”
He stopped her with a hand laid gently across her mouth. “Time for that later,” he said. “Surely we will have a day or two of rest before you must completely overhaul Mount Sinai.”
She pulled his hand away after kissing his palm. “And what will the famous engineer Caleb Augustus do while I am getting Mount Sinai in shape?”
“I will build a workshop at the foot of the mountain and conduct strange scientific experiments. I want to figure out how these batteries are made and see if I can make my own. I’ve already talked to your friend Daniel here in Velora—he says he might want to come spend a couple months with me working on some projects of his own. Who knows, maybe we’ll open a school to teach engineering. There has to be a better way to learn it than the way he and I did.”
“That would please me, to have you so close,” she said. “I have been picturing you back in Luminaux or perhaps at Velora, a long flight for me and a longer ride for you. But if you were right there at the edge of my mountain—”
“I could see you every day,” he finished. “Yes. That was my thought as well.”