Jovah's Angel (30 page)

That looming before her, the trip to Breven seemed to come at an inopportune time; still, she had three weeks' grace, and it would not take her that long to fly to and from the Jansai city. Though it might take some time to canvass the gathered Edori and find the man she was looking for.

The man Jovah had chosen for her. She shook her head, tossed the thought away.

It was nearly seven hundred miles to Breven, a trip Alleya did not care to attempt in one day. She broke her flight at Castelana, one of the river cities only slightly less important than Semorrah, and kept to her hotel room the whole time she was there. She was not in the mood to advertise her presence to the merchants. Three weeks would be soon enough to confront them all.

She arrived in Breven in the middle of the afternoon on the following day, though she could spot the Jansai city from the air well before she could make out individual buildings and complexes. Breven was a long, dark smudge of smoke, an evil exhalation of noxious fumes, a bruise against the grainy gray of the overcast sky. Long before she could hear or smell anything escaping the city limits, Alleya imagined piteous voices raised up to her, malodorous vapors threading themselves through her tangled hair, clinging with unwelcome tenacity to her beating wings. She hated Breven. It was a city of horrors.

When she got closer to the city, she got caught in a steady, slow drizzle of tainted winter rain. It was not her fancy this time: When she cupped her hands, the droplets she caught were slivered through with black cinders and gray ash. Almost, she sympathized with Jovah in this instance: This was a city that needed to be washed clean, or maybe washed away.

She landed on the dirty outskirts of the sprawling city and made
her way by foot toward the central business district. As much as anything, this was an exercise in self-torture, although she told herself it was a learning expedition. The farflung edges of Breven consisted mostly of slovenly shacks piled together in the most promiscuous, helter-skelter manner imaginable. Because Breven had been dug from the desert, and because it now suffered from a never-ending rain, all the huts were half-sunk in a sandy mud in which footprints and other marks seemed to heal over almost as soon as they were made. There were no gardens, no trees, no weeds or greenery of any kind surrounding these miserable neighborhoods. There was nothing but mud, and broken shelters, and rain.

There were a few inhabitants to be seen at this hour of the day, however—mostly women going to and from the markets or the wells, one or two men carrying wood or peddling goods. Not many children, though; this was a working day, and children were in the factories where they could be made use of. Alleya could not repress a shudder.

She earned occasional sidelong, incurious glances as she passed by, but no one stopped her or addressed her. Even though angels were rare (probably nonexistent) in this part of town, the inhabitants did not have enough energy to wonder why she might be there. They barely had the energy to survive the day.

Conditions improved as she moved closer to the center of town, passing gradually from the poorer districts to the richer residential areas. The demarcation line from middle-class merchants and burghers to wealthy Jansai aristocracy was immediate and distinct. Suddenly the homes were palatial, expensive and ringed by tall fences guaranteeing the owners privacy. Even more conspicuous was the arrangement of the windows, all of them grouped on one half of each house, while the other half of the building remained completely closed, shut off from any view of the world.

She always remembered this with the shock of something she had hated so much that her mind had completely forgotten it: The Jansai women were not allowed to mingle with the world, or even look out upon it. Even the traveling Jansai nomads, who took their women with them on the road, kept them covered with scarves and languishing in their tents when they camped outside a city of any size. Here in the Jansai capital, the wealthy traders kept their wives and daughters off the streets and immured in their huge, gold-plated prisons. Unless you were an eligible Jansai
man looking to wed within the proper circle, you would never lay eyes on one of these young women.

Once she passed through the most exclusive neighborhoods, Alleya found herself on the edge of the business district. It was nothing like the collection of offices, warehouses, restaurants and schools that could be found in Luminaux or Velora—all these structures looked temporary, uncertain, built for easy demolition. Many of them were little more than heavy canvas roofs tied over a framework of metal poles. Not until the past generation or two had the Jansai invested to any extent in the city itself; all their wealth had been gathered on the road, buying and selling both goods and information. More permanent buildings were, in some places, under construction, but this section of town was still clearly in a state of flux.

The heart of Breven's current wealth came from the factories located practically along the shoreline, and these Alleya came to last. Shoulder to shoulder, belching smoke and radiating heat, the huge windowless buildings were clustered together so tightly they seemed to allow room for nothing even so small as a human to pass between them. This close, the noise level was incredible—a combination of metallic screeches, subterranean grindings, and unidentifiable crashings of what could be rocks or tree trunks or bones. And everywhere the inescapable burning stink. And even more threatening than the omnipresent clouds was the low, grim, shadowed ceiling of smoke.

And this was the heart of progress, this was the modern city. No wonder Jovah had turned his heart from his children, no wonder he was deaf to their appeals. How could he hear them over this wretched clamor, how could he remember to love them at all?

The Edori camp, by contrast, was a place of gaiety and ease. True, the closely packed tents and the amazing density of people were rather overwhelming for someone who valued privacy as much as Alleya did, but the overall mood of the camp was so friendly, so open-hearted, that she could not help but succumb to the general bonhomie. Even before she had her first extended conversation with anyone, the sidelong smiles and casual waves made her feel welcome and hopeful. Well, perhaps the world was not such a bad place after all, if there were still Edori in it.

She wandered more or less aimlessly through the tightly clustered
tents for about half an hour before she actually attempted to find someone to speak with. She had spent very little time among the Edori, but as always she was impressed by the efficiency that lay behind their general air of insouciance. All the tents were solidly pitched and in good repair; every campfire burned busily away; details of children appeared to be responsible for fetching water and disposing of trash, while older boys guarded the horses. The workers moved purposefully from task to task, while the unemployed played laughing games with such fervor that they could hardly be faulted for indolence. The air was braided with delicious aromas. No voices were raised in anger or supplication. It was enough to make one want to become Edori.

Eventually, she spied the old man Thomas whom she had met in the Edori camp outside of Luminaux. He was sitting on an upturned log outside his open tent. A broad, overhanging flap was stretched out in front to provide him shelter from the constant cold drizzle. He was smoking a pipe, his only apparent occupation, but he seemed to be enjoying it thoroughly. When Alleya walked slowly up to him, a look of inquiry on her face, he smiled at her broadly and waved her over.

“Welcome, angela, welcome! It is good to have you among us once more! Are you looking for someone again? Are you hungry? Are you thirsty? I'm afraid I left all my chairs behind near Luminaux, so there's not much to sit on, but make yourself comfortable if you can.”

“Hello, Thomas,” she said, perching with some delicacy on another log beside him. “Not hungry. Maybe a little thirsty. Is there water somewhere that I—”

“Martha! We have a guest who would like a drink of something!” he called over his shoulder, and moments later a smiling, dark-skinned woman emerged from the tent. She was carrying a metal cup, which she handed to Alleya.

“There's fruit juice, if you'd rather,” she said. “Or wine. Are you hungry? There's plenty to eat.”

More of the famed hospitality of the Edori. No questions, no suspicion. No wonder they had been nearly wiped out a century ago by the predatory Jansai. “No—water is all I want, thank you very much,” Alleya said. The woman ducked her head and vanished back inside the tent.

“Had a long flight?” Thomas asked with interest.

Alleya nodded. “I left Castelana this morning.”

The old man shook his head admiringly. “Castelana! A trip
like that would take a man days on horseback, even riding hard.” He laughed. “It might take the Edori weeks, but then, we're dawdlers along the way. Imagine! Castelana to Breven in a day.”

“Well, I wouldn't choose to do it every day.”

“And so what was the weather like? But you wouldn't care about weather, would you? You can fly above it.”

“Most of the way. I dropped down in altitude as I got closer to the city, and then it was nothing but rain.”

“As it is day in, day out. Rain over Breven. But we are getting used to it.”

“I am amazed to see so many Edori camped here,” Alleya remarked, edging the conversation around in the direction she wanted. “I know this is not the time of the Gathering. Is there some other special event taking place?”

Thomas smiled. “The grandest event! The exodus is at hand, and all those who are not afraid have come together to make their plans.”

“The exodus? To where?”

“To Ysral.”

“To—” Alleya's mouth shut with a snap and her eyebrows arched incredulously. “All of you? Everyone here is going to try to sail to Ysral? But how do you—Do you have any maps? Do you have any idea where you might be going? Do you have any
proof
that you will actually find this place? Because, you know, Ysral—”

The old man laughed. “You sound like my allali friends. They think we are fools and madmen—destined to be drowned fools and madmen, no doubt, when our boats becalm somewhere out in the untracked ocean. But I believe Ysral is there. I believe it can be found—that it has been found. Too many Edori have heard the stories from their grandparents, and their great-grandparents. Edori have sailed there in the past and returned with the good news. So Edori must sail there again.”

“But—all of you? Perhaps one boatload, or two—”

Now the smiling, wrinkled face grew sober. “And what is left for Edori on this continent?” Thomas asked gravely. “We live on a few scattered plots of cramped and begrudgingly sheltered land—not enough for all of us, not nearly enough, and still there are those who would take that land away from us. And that is no place for Edori—sanctuaries! Edori should live free, in the mountains and the valleys and along the rivers and in the deserts. Edori should not be tied to”—he waved his hand—“well-tended campsites
at Breven and Luminaux! We should be wandering the coasts and exploring the foothills.

“And even if we could bear to live as we are living now, we will find this life slipping away from us,” he continued. “Even now, the merchants and the Manadavvi and the Jansai encroach on the land set aside for our use. Even now the angels wonder if perhaps the Edori could be moved to someplace less valuable, someplace a little smaller. Even now, our sons and daughters slip away from the camps at night and go into the cities—and they leave the camps by day to go live in Breven and Velora and Luminaux. They learn allali medicine and allali science and take allali wives. If we do not leave Samaria soon, there will be no Edori left to preserve. Thus, not just one boatload, or two, but all of us, as many as are willing. If we all perish out on the traitorous ocean, so be it. At least we will die Edori, among our brothers. Here we will die anyway, among strangers and no longer remembering the names of our tribes.”

Alleya had long since stopped attempting to interrupt his speech, and when he finished, she was not sure how to answer him. In her heart, she believed him; still, his venture seemed so fraught with peril that it was hard not to continue to protest. “You have reasoned yourself to a point from which you cannot turn back,” she said quietly. “All I can do is pray that Jovah will protect you on your journey.”

He smiled again, all his passion flown. “And an angel's prayers are always welcome,” he said. He put his hand out in greeting, and she laid hers on his palm. “You had my name last time we met—I am Thomas of the Rahilo clan. But I failed to secure yours.”

He might not even recognize her name, but it did not seem the time or place to put on airs. “I am called Alleya,” she said.

“Welcome, Alleya. Have you returned to our camp merely to hear an old man rant, or is there something I can do to help you?”

“I'm looking for someone. I had heard there was a great conference of Edori at Breven, and I thought I might find him here—or someone who could tell me of him.”

“He is an Edori man?”

“No, but he took an Edori wife.”

Thomas smiled quickly. “Edori do not take wives or husbands,” he explained. “They may mate for life, but there is no false ceremony that binds them. Rather, they are tied together by the affection they feel in their hearts.”

Alleya smiled back. “A good system,” she approved. “In any case, he had a son by an Edori woman, that son now being about thirty years old. The son is actually the man I am looking for, but I don't know his name. His father's name was Cyrus, and he had this child by an Edori woman of the Cholita tribe.”

Thomas had listened intently but blankly until she spoke her final sentence; then an expression of regret crossed his face. “Ah, Cyrus. He was a fine man. Not Edori-born, of course, but he took to the people's ways as well as any allali has.”