Jovah's Angel (16 page)

He smiled and shook his head. “I can't explain. Maybe there are no benefits, or maybe the disadvantages outweigh the advantages. I still want to do it. I want to discover what can be done. I want to make things, build things, expand things, speed things up. I want to know how things
work
. It's a fever in me. And I happen to think what I can create will make life better for some people.”

“And people like me who fear progress are all to be scorned for their timidity and their lack of vision.”

“Not at all,” he said seriously. “It is people like you who make people like me justify ourselves. And that is no bad thing, either.”

“In any case, I have no right to be moralizing,” she said with a sigh. “Since I came here specifically to exploit your talents. It is just that—sometimes I wonder. Where we are going, and what we will regret once we get there.”

“We will always regret something,” he responded. “I would rather rue what I did than what I failed to do.”

Alleluia smiled, seemingly with an effort. “Certainly that is an optimistic way to approach it,” she said. “So! You will come look at my machines?”

“Yes, as soon as I can. I have a job here that will take me another three or four days. Can you wait that long?”

“I am at your mercy,” she said lightly. “Since you appear to be the only man in Samaria who can help me. Come when you can.”

He took a deep breath and braced his hands on his knees. How did one invite the Archangel to dinner? “That settled,” he said, “can I offer you another service? May I take you out for something to eat? Luminaux is an inexhaustible banquet, so they say. I know a number of restaurants a stranger might not be familiar with—”

She hesitated, then smiled. “I appreciate the offer,” she said, “but I have one more task in Luminaux, and perhaps I should concentrate on that.”

“What is it? Maybe I can help.”

“I believe—we have been told—that Delilah is living here somewhere. She has scarcely communicated with any of the angels since she left the Eyrie, and I just want to know if she is well.” Alleluia shrugged. “Not that I think she is particularly interested in seeing me, or any of us, for that matter. But—just to find out.”

“As it happens…” Caleb said slowly, “I know where she is.”

She looked at him sharply. “You do? Someplace disreputable?”

“Now why would you say that?” he marveled.

She flushed. “I'm sorry. It's just that—Delilah always lived at the extreme edges. I am only guessing, but if she feels cast out
from the angels, I would expect her to embrace the worst that the mortal lifestyle has to offer. I'm sorry if I wrong her.”

“I was thinking you must have known her very well.”

Alleluia shook her head. “Watched from a distance. Delilah was the kind who thrived on being at the absolute center of the world. And she was the best at balancing all those opposing forces. But if that excitement has been taken away from her—Well… I imagine she must be thriving on something else.”

Caleb rose to his feet. “Let me show you,” he said. “I don't think you'll like it, but it sounds like you won't be surprised.”

They arrived at Seraph about an hour before Delilah was scheduled to perform. For reasons it was hard to analyze, Caleb was glad that Noah would not be here this evening, for he was away on a weeklong trip to a mining town near the Corinni Mountains. He ushered Alleluia to a table more centrally located than the one he was accustomed to taking; no one would automatically look for him there. It had the added advantage of being equidistant from the strings of lights outlining the walls and stage. Thus they sat in a pleasant semidarkness where they were unlikely to attract much attention.

“The food is fairly good,” Caleb said. “We sometimes come here every night of the week.”

“We?”

“My friend Noah and I. The Edori who was supposed to direct you to me.”

“Is it the food that draws you or the company?”

“Noah has become very friendly with Delilah. She calls herself Lilah here, by the way, but I imagine everyone knows who she is.”

He thought he had skated through that one successfully, but Alleluia instantly asked, “And have you become very friendly with her, too?”

“I'm friendly with everyone,” he said, and let it go at that.

She ordered a light meal, skipped the wine, and looked around her with the close attention she seemed to give to everything. She was the only angel in the place, but the rest of the clientele was fairly upscale, if young. Just the sort of rich, bored, jaded socialites who would get a kick out of seeing a fallen Archangel sing for their entertainment. Alleluia offered no comment.

“When does the show begin?” she asked.

“Soon. Are you sure you don't want wine?”

“I'm sure.”

They ate the last part of their meal in virtual silence. Though she was pleasant and responded any time he essayed a remark, Caleb sensed Alleluia growing tense or at least very focused, and he eventually gave up all attempts at conversation. She continued to watch the people and listen to the musician playing the dulcimer, and betrayed no signs of impatience.

It was later than usual, and all their dinner debris had been cleared away, when Delilah finally took the stage. Thanks to all the work Caleb and Noah had done, these days her entrance was most dramatic. All the lights in the room went out, sending a gasp through the crowd. Slowly, filtering down from above like a single directed ray of sunshine, one narrow spotlight came to life. From the darkness on the stage it shaped a shadow—bowed head, sculpted wings, praying hands—until, gradually growing stronger, it painted the whole angel in a brilliant, iridescent light. As the light grew brighter, the angel lifted her dark head, spread her clasped hands, and seemed to be bathed in the white radiance of absolution.

As always, she began with that unearthly, heartbreaking croon, a prayer for mercy, perhaps, or a requiem for a lost soul. Or both. As many times as he had heard it, Caleb was always moved by that first eerie song, driven to the edge of grief but comforted by the incredible richness of Delilah's magnificent voice.

He glanced at Alleluia to see her reaction. Even in the near-total darkness, he could make out the pale oval of her face turned toward the stage, and the stony expression that had settled across her cheeks. Her eyes were narrowed and her lips were very slightly pursed, as if she were judging a contest and had to concentrate closely. With something like shock, he realized that she was not impressed. What could she think was missing from Delilah's voice? What memories could she compare it to, that she would think this performance was in any way inferior?

He was still watching Alleluia when Delilah made her abrupt, unnerving switch to one of the bawdiest ballads Caleb had ever heard her sing. The Archangel's eyes widened a little, but she looked neither surprised nor censorious. In fact, a faint smile touched her lips and she shook her head so slightly that the motion was almost undetectable. Caleb was oddly relieved.

They did not speak for the duration of the concert but, like the other patrons, sat mesmerized by the angel's performance. Caleb
wondered if Delilah somehow knew who was in the audience and was doing her best to be outrageous, for every song she offered was rowdy or tasteless or both, and her grimaces and gestures were suggestively in keeping with the lyrics. No one else in the audience seemed disapproving; maybe it was just his tablemate who made Caleb more than ordinarily sensitive to Delilah's selections.

When the performance ended nearly ninety minutes later, the house lights went down with a crash of cymbals and rose again to thunderous applause, by which time the stage was deserted. Caleb instantly fixed his attention on Alleluia, noting that she was clapping her hands politely and watching the stage as if she expected an encore.

“Is that the end of it?” she asked, turning to Caleb.

“Yes. She'll come out into the audience shortly, at least she usually does, but she won't sing again tonight. I imagine a performance like that must be fairly exhausting.”

“Oh, I don't know,” Alleluia said idly. “It takes at least as much energy to sing one of the high masses, and the range is more difficult, and the music far more intricate. And Delilah used to come away from singing a mass even more charged up than she was before she started. She feeds on her own energy, you know. Nothing seems to drain her.”

“So what did you think?” he asked, because he really couldn't tell.

“Well, it's certainly a waste of the most beautiful voice of our generation,” she said flatly, “but I'd rather see her sing this sort of thing than not sing at all. Delilah would die if she didn't sing.”

Not at all the answer Caleb would have expected from the Archangel—until he had met this particular Archangel. “That's generous,” he said. She appeared surprised.

“Ah, angela, it's good of you to grace us with your presence,” came a voice behind them, and suddenly the unctuous Joseph was at their table. “Did you enjoy the performance? Lilah is superb, is she not?”

“Unequalled,” Alleluia agreed. “You are fortunate to have her.”

He smiled his oily smile. “We make each other's fortunes,” he said. “I provide her an unmatched venue, she provides a certain talent. The key to a profitable business relationship.”

“Yes,” Alleluia said. “Well.”

He leaned closer, till his face was inches from the angel's.
Alleluia held her position, but her cool eyes narrowed. “Do you sing, angela?” he asked suddenly. “How's your voice?”

Caleb actually caught his breath. In Samaria, where musical ability was almost universal, it was the rudest question that could be asked of anyone, most particularly an angel. Joseph apparently did not intend it as an insult, however; he waited eagerly for an answer.

“I sing as well as any angel, I suppose,” was Alleluia's dry reply. “Why do you ask?”

He gestured toward the stage. “I'm the only club owner in Luminaux who has an angel singing for him full-time. So far, I haven't encouraged the appearance of guest artists, because who could compete with an angel? But when I saw you here, I thought—Ah! Another angel! That's who! What a coup for Seraph to have two angels singing. Even better, she's dark and you're fair—”

“I really don't think so,” Alleluia interrupted with some force. “Thank you all the same.”

“It wouldn't have to be for more than a few nights,” Joseph persisted. “And not tonight—I'd like to have a little time to advertise it—but day after tomorrow, say, for three nights running.”

“I'm not interested in performing for you, sir.”

“The pay is good,” he coaxed. “And the exposure—After this, you could get a job wherever you liked.”

She stared at him helplessly for a moment. Caleb struggled to contain a laugh. Clearly the Jansai had no idea who he was soliciting. “The job that I have takes all my time as it is,” Alleluia finally managed to reply. “I'm not looking for more work.”

“One night?” he asked. “Sing for me one night?”

“Alleya never sings in public except to pray,” said a cool, rich voice behind them, and Delilah's dark shadow fell over their small table.
Alleya
. Caleb quickly committed the name to memory. “Don't importune her, Joseph. You'll only make her nervous.”

“Think about it,” he urged Alleluia one more time. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

Alleluia spread her hands, but before she could answer, he had left. The Archangel shook her head. “Well, I have to admire his ambition, but he is a little overbearing.”

“Still, I like the idea of you standing on stage beside me, singing your sweet prayers and calming down the crowd once I've riled them up,” said Delilah, collapsing into one of the empty
chairs at their table. “People would think they'd sinned and been forgiven once they came to one of our concerts.”

“Oh, I think they're much happier just having sinned,” said Alleluia. Her eyes were fixed on Delilah's face and her whole posture was wary. “But I can see why they'd enjoy your performance.”

“Can you now?” Delilah said lightly. “I must say, I was shocked when I saw you in the audience. I didn't think you'd stoop this low just to indulge your vulgar curiosity.”

“Maybe all of us have vulgar tendencies,” Alleluia responded. “Under the right circumstances.”

Delilah laughed out loud. “Well! Not quite the meek, self-effacing Alleya I left behind—has it been a lifetime ago? How do you flourish in your new role, angela? Are you enjoying yourself?”

Alleya chose to take the question seriously. “Not at all,” she said. “Not a day goes by that I don't wish it was you there instead of me—I and everyone who is forced to deal with me, I might add, though no one has been rude enough to say it to my face.”

“Just flatter them and pretend to listen to their ideas,” Delilah advised her airily. “It's all they want, a chance to say what's on their minds. Then go on doing what you were doing before.”

“They seem to want more than that,” Alleya said quietly. “The Manadavvi want to eliminate the Edori sanctuaries—or at least relocate them. And the Jansai—”

A quick frown pulled Delilah's brows down. “The sanctuaries! That's impossible. It took months—”

“Well, they have withdrawn their proposal for the moment, but I expect them to come back with another.”

“Which sanctuary? Ah, the one at the Galo, right? They fought that one from the beginning.”

“They're complaining about portage costs, but I told them they could pay the Edori for passage rights, and they didn't like that any better.”

Delilah grinned. “A good answer, though. Don't let them harass you. The Manadavvi will exploit every weakness, but they're too cowardly to disobey you outright. They have too much respect for authority.”