Jovah's Angel (32 page)

“Exactly,” she said on a long sigh. “And if this man wasn't the one Jovah wanted, then who am I really looking for?”

His expression must have been pained, for Alleya laughed and launched into a fuller explanation. “I went to the oracles to ask Jovah about all our recent troubles—storm, flood—you know what I mean. I asked if anyone on Samaria could help us solve these problems, and he told us to look for one of the descendants of the Archangel Gabriel. And the oracle Mary and I were able to eliminate most of them for one reason or another, but he did say that this man Cyrus—who was a descendant—had taken an Edori woman as a mate, and that they'd had a son. And I thought this son might be the man we wanted. But he's dead.”

Caleb was still confused; he was convinced she was leaving out vital parts of the story, but he didn't want to press her if she preferred not to tell him. “You were talking to Jovah?” he asked instead. “I didn't know that was possible.”

“Well, not face-to-face,” she said, laughing. “We weren't actually
speaking
. Haven't you ever been to see one of the oracles?” He shook his head. “Well, all of their retreats have these amazing”—her hands described a square—“panels of glass, except it's not just glass. There's a light behind the glass and it's all connected to some strange machine. It's called an interface. And you can form letters on this interface to ask Jovah questions, and then you wait a while, and his answers appear. It's the most incredible thing.”

His mind was racing, trying to fit this description into some familiar context; but it literally made no sense to him. “I can't even guess how something like that might work,” he said. “I can't even visualize it. And you say you can ask Jovah—anything?—and he answers? Just like that?”

“Well, sometimes he answers in a more direct way than at
other times,” Alleya said, and he detected a slight note of bitterness in her voice. “Lately his answers have been very—how can say?—circuitous. Open to interpretation. But he does answer.”

“Can anybody go up to him and ask him questions?”

“No, of course not! You must ask through an oracle, because they're the only ones who know how the interface works—and they're the only ones who know the language Jovah speaks.” Alleya fell abruptly silent as she said the last words, then tossed her head as if to shake away a worry. “But if you'd like to see this for yourself, I'll take you sometime to visit Job at Mount Egypt.”

“I would like to very much,” he said, smiling down at her. “I would be interested in witnessing a communication from the god.”

“And would that make you a believer?” she asked softly.

“Well, it might. But I won't make any promises, angela.”

She touched the gold clasp in her hair. He had noticed immediately that she was wearing it. “Angela?” she repeated. “You called me Alleya when you left me this.”

“I'm more of a coward in person,” he admitted.

“Aren't we all. But I wanted to thank you for the gift. It was very thoughtful.”

“Not brazen?”

She laughed. “From the adventurous outspoken Caleb Augustus? I thought it was restrained.”

He was grinning broadly. “Just wait,” he promised. “See what I buy you in Breven.”

“I won't be here long enough to qualify for presents. I'll be leaving tomorrow at first light.”

“Where are you staying?”

“Well, I didn't think I could turn down the meal, but as soon as I'm done here I'll head on back into the city and find a hotel.”

“You can't do that!” he exclaimed. “Alone—in Breven!”

She looked amused. “I hardly think anyone will mistreat me. Unlike our gentle friends here, I think most everyone in the city will recognize me and handle me with caution.”

He shook his head again. “It's not like Luminaux, or Velora, or even the river cities. Breven is—it's a nasty place. Especially at night. Especially for a woman. Alleya, they don't even let their women out of the house during the
day
.”

“Well, but I think I'll—”

“Here's where you've been hiding!” a voice came booming
out of the darkness. Caleb glanced up quickly to find that Thomas, Noah and Delilah had strolled the perimeter of the fire, presumably to find them. “I can't believe the nerve of you allali men! I invited the angel to join
my
campfire, and you've monopolized her all night.”

“Happily, it would appear,” Delilah murmured.

Caleb was on his feet. “Thomas, tell her,” he said urgently. “She can't return alone to Breven tonight.”

Thomas's bantering tone instantly vanished. “No, angela, it really isn't safe,” he said. “We allow even our children to roam free in Luminaux, but in Breven—no one goes about alone, even by daylight. Surely you weren't thinking of leaving tonight?”

Alleya, looking exasperated, rose slowly, fanning her wings behind her. “Thank you for your concern,” she said. “But I think I'll be just fine. I'm used to traveling alone.”

But Delilah, of all people, was shaking her head. “I wouldn't, Alleya,” she said with unwonted seriousness. “Not Breven. The Jansai are not much to be trusted.”

“But then—I suppose I could fly back tonight, as far as Castelana, maybe… .”

“Angela!” Thomas exclaimed. “Of course you will stay right here! There is always room for one more. In fact, we would be insulted if you left.”

Alleya cast a quick, despairing glance around the densely packed campsite. Caleb had never heard her say so, but he would guess she was not a woman who enjoyed a crowd. “I do not like to trade so much on your hospitality…” she began, and Delilah laughed aloud.

“Poor Alleya! She's too polite to say that she can't sleep in a tent with more than a dozen people in it. You can stay with me, all right? I've been given a tent all to myself, as a special mark of favor. It's small, but I think the two of us will fit.”

Caleb caught Noah's swift look at Delilah, but the angel appeared oblivious. Ah—probably she had just scotched a rendezvous, Caleb decided, and thought better of her for making the sacrifice on Alleya's behalf. Alleya, on the other hand, looked trapped and unhappy, but she made a valiant effort to cover her unease.

“Well, then—what can I say?” she responded, essaying a smile. “You have convinced me. Thank you for your offers—Thomas, Delilah—and I will certainly stay the night. I do appreciate your concern.”

Thomas brought his hands together in a single slap of applause. “Good! That's settled. Now it's time for singing.”

As Caleb had learned during the past two days in camp, singing was a nightly occurrence and one that the Edori approached with exuberance. Everyone joined in, or at least came together in the center of the camp to listen. Already the other diners, finished with their meals, were gathering around the most central of the campfires, dragging mats or pillows or small logs with them to sit on. Thomas ushered before him Martha, Noah, Caleb and the two angels, making sure they all had prime seats in the inner ring closest to the fire. Caleb found himself between Noah and the Archangel; Delilah sat on the other side of Noah, and Thomas and Martha on the other side of Alleya.

“So what happens next?” Alleya murmured to Caleb.

“It's very informal,” he replied in an undertone. “Whoever feels like singing will rise to his feet, look around to make sure no one else is also standing, and then launch into whatever song moves him.”

“Do they sing masses?”

“Not that I've ever heard. Or maybe they have their own version of sacred music, but I haven't been able to identify it.”

“Do they—” Alleya began, but instantly fell silent as two young women stood and glanced around the fire. When they had verified that they had the stage, one of the girls nodded three times to give her friend the count, and they began singing at exactly the same moment. Caleb listened appreciatively. These two had sung on the night of his arrival, and he remembered distinctly the sweetness of their blended voices and the plaintive thread of the melody. Thomas had told him that the oldest one was the songwriter, and Caleb had been impressed. She did not look more than fourteen years old.

He glanced at Alleya to see how she liked the music. She was leaning slightly forward, hands braced on her knees, listening intently. When the girls hit a particularly beautiful harmonic, he saw Alleya's head arc backward slightly, as if she'd been struck, and then she smiled faintly. Yes, the Archangel was enjoying the concert.

Enthusiastic applause greeted the end of the song, and another singer was on his feet before the last few cheers had died away. This was a man about Caleb's age, perhaps in his mid-thirties, with a light, polished voice and a penchant for lively tunes. He, too, had entertained them a couple of nights ago. When he finished,
a woman rose to stand beside him, and the two of them sang a rollicking duet that had everyone in the audience laughing and clapping along. They also were zealously applauded after the last note.

The next several singers turned to more sober music—love songs, lullabies and ballads. Caleb remembered hearing Noah sing one of these while they were on the road, and he glanced over at his friend to see if he recognized it. Noah, however, did not seem to be paying much attention. He had leaned over and was whispering in Delilah's ear. But the angel stared straight before her and did not appear to be listening. Caleb swung his eyes back around to the performers.

And soon enough, he had his own distraction whispering in his ear. Politely waiting for the brief pause between acts, Alleya touched him on the arm and murmured, “Do they ever sing in Edori?”

“Every once in a while,” he replied softly. “Thomas was bemoaning that fact the other day—that so many of the younger Edori had forgotten their old language. So you rarely hear it.”

“I don't know that I've ever even heard it spoken. I understand it's a beautiful language.”

“Maybe we'll make a special request,” he said.

But they didn't have to. Perhaps an hour into the music, when children had begun to fall asleep and even the moon looked weary, when all the selections had become haunting and sad, one of the older Edori women came to her feet and glanced carefully around at the assembled listeners. All faces turned expectantly in her direction; even the tired ones stirred.

“So that we never forget,” she said simply, and then began to sing one of the old ballads in the original Edori tongue. She had a high, true voice, silver and thin, and she delivered her notes plainly. Something about the melody, or the foreign words, or the quality of her voice itself, invested the song with an eerie significance. Caleb felt disembodied, hurled backward, re-created at a campfire hundreds of years ago where the words to this song were being delivered for the first time. Among the faces of the Edori he knew were scattered a few of the long-ago Edori, listening gravely to the message of the lyrics, impressing the words forever on their hearts. The singer's voice became stronger, more urgent; she raised her arms slowly in a gesture of entreaty to the god, and held them out, pleading, a long moment after her final note had sounded.

Silence reigned until she dropped her hands, and then the mad applause went on for more than ten minutes. Alleya tugged on Caleb's sleeve. “What was she singing?” she said in his ear.

He shook his head, and leaned across her to address Thomas. “What was the gist of that song?” he asked.

Thomas almost had to shout to be heard. “It is a recitation about the floods that visited Samaria shortly after the first settlers arrived. It is a reminder to Jovah that we are his people and we worship him, and a prayer to him to never forget us that way again.”

Caleb saw Alleya's sharp look at the Edori. “Floods?” she repeated. “I don't remember reading about this.”

Thomas smiled. “Well, it happened centuries ago. And I don't suppose it really affected anyone except the Edori. It was, oh, fifty or so years after Samaria was colonized, and most of the settlers were still living in Bethel and southern Gaza. The Edori, of course, had been on the move since their arrival. The floods washed across the southeast tip of Jordana, maybe one hundred miles south of where we are now. Drowned about a dozen Edori. There weren't as many Edori then, so it was quite a tragedy.”

“So! They had weather problems six hundred years ago, too,” Caleb said cheerfully, and was surprised to earn his own quick look of concern from Alleya. He arched his eyebrows at her. “What?” he said.

She shook her head. “I was just thinking… That's the same place that's going to flood now if these rains don't let up.” She turned back toward Thomas. “What caused the flood then, do you know? Was it rain? Or was it one of the rivers rising—maybe too much snow melting up in the mountains?”

“The song doesn't say,” Thomas replied. “Does it matter?”

“I don't—I was just wondering.”

“Odd, though, that what's essentially a desert would flood more than once within our memories,” Caleb remarked. He was surprised to receive yet another swift, unhappy look from Alleya.

“Not odd,” she said, almost too softly to hear, “if Breven had not been a desert to begin with.”

“What?” he said again, but she did not have a chance to answer. A tall, handsome Edori man was standing over them and smiling down.

“It would be such an honor,” he said to Alleya, “to have the Archangel sing for us.”

More of those rapid glances, as the angel looked from Thomas
to the new arrival. Caleb guessed that Alleya had believed she was here incognito; Edori were not big on ceremony, and probably no one had betrayed to her that they knew who she was. Thus she was caught completely off-guard.

“Oh—” she faltered, into what was suddenly an intent and expectant silence. “I've enjoyed hearing all of you so much,” she said, clearly improvising. “I would not want to intrude my voice on yours.”