Jovah's Angel (25 page)

“I hope you gentlemen had a pleasant time,” she said. “I assume from your sober faces that you have no glorious news for me.”

“Not at this time,” Caleb said. “But we have ideas.”

She gave him a stately nod. “Which of course I would like to hear about at some future date. You cannot imagine my excitement.”

“Delilah—” Noah said, a note of protest in his voice.

She smiled at him briefly. “It's not important,” she told him. “It was a matter of indignity only. No expectation and no pain. But it would please me if neither of you came to Seraph for the next two days. I need time to compose myself.”

And without another word, she left the room. Noah looked after her with longing and despair. Caleb more practically finished their packing.

That night, the two men met again over an Edori campfire, where those who had joined them showed only puzzlement at their conversation.

“The muscle is intact,” Caleb said. He had made a few sketches that afternoon, and now he and Noah pored over them. “It responds to stimulus. But the nerves themselves have been severed—”

“And can provide no stimulus,” Noah finished.

“If we had a power source—” Caleb said, brooding. “If there was a way to wire her for power—say, a small generator strapped to her chest, run off the motion of her left wing—”

“Too complex,” Noah objected, shaking his head. “And too chancy. There are times an angel's wings scarcely move, as they just hover above the ground. She would run out of power, come tumbling down—”

“And I'm not sure the wingbeat offers enough energy, in any case,” Caleb said. “Well, then, a fuel-based source? Although all available fuels are noxious and unreliable, I would think, for airborne travel—”

“Plus, Caleb, think of the wiring involved! If a single connection got dislodged in flight, she'd plummet—”

“I know. I know. But it seems so obvious. So simple. If we could find a way to stimulate the muscle, a self-contained power pack…”

“Well, there is no way. She was right. It is better not to flirt with hope.”

“But there is a way,” Caleb said slowly. “I saw it just the other day at the Eyrie. Unfortunately, it no longer works.”

“What are you talking about?”

Caleb shook his head, held up his left hand with his smallest finger extended. “A power supply device no bigger than this. An object that stores energy for centuries, apparently. At the angel holds, these were used to supply energy for the music machines. But their power has all been drained. How was it gathered in the first place? And how much power can such a small thing generate?
That's
what we need to fix Delilah's wing. A self-contained power source that's small and infallible. Then she could fly again.”

Noah was staring at him, amazed and hopeless. “But Caleb, we don't have such a thing. We don't know how to make one. She'll never fly again.”

Caleb returned the stare, a certain sternness in his own gaze. “We can try,” he said. “We're scientists, or have you forgotten? We've invented stranger things.”

“But nothing more dangerous,” Noah said softly. “Nothing more fraught with pain.”

Caleb hesitated, shrugged helplessly, and finally nodded. But his mind went back to the problem again that night, and other nights, and he could not always tear his thoughts away.

Although Noah had been despairingly pessimistic about the chances, Delilah seemed to have forgiven both men by the time they all set out three days later on their great adventure to Breven. Caleb had avoided Seraph in the interim, since that's what the angel had requested, but Noah had only been able to stay away for one night before returning. In great relief, he reported that Delilah had joined him for a drink and behaved more or less normally.

“Of course she did,” Caleb said with a certain cynicism. “She can't afford to hate us forever.”

“I don't see why not. I would, if I were her.”

“We divert her. She needs us. I told you she'd come around.”

Caleb had been less sanguine about the possibility of Delilah joining them at the Edori camp at an early hour in the morning, which was the time the men had chosen for departure. But this time he was the one pleasantly surprised as, before dawn had completely banished the darkness, Delilah came riding into camp in a horse-drawn gig driven by a city ostler. She was dressed in some shapeless cotton tunic and leggings, as befitted a day of uncomfortable travel, and she had only a modest number of bags stacked behind her in the cart—another surprise. Caleb had been sure she could not travel without every stitch of clothing she owned and dozens of pieces of luggage.

“The best of the morning to you!” he said in greeting, coming over to lift her from the high seat. She permitted him to swing her down, though she easily could have jumped to the ground, and she even smiled at him in her usual sideways fashion. “I confess I was sure we'd have to drag you wailing from your bed.”

“Why, no,” she drawled. “I was so excited I failed to sleep at all. Where do you want my valises? I packed as lightly as I could.”

“You packed excellently. Here, I'll get them.”

It took only one trip to carry all her belongings over to the Beast, which was rumbling mightily as the motor chugged away at idle. Noah was still loading their own supplies of food, water, fuel and clothing, and it was becoming clear that the passengers would be cozying up with their own suitcases, but all in all, Caleb didn't think they'd done a bad job of organizing. Delilah had even thought to bring her own canteen of water.

“I thought you might refuse to allow me to wipe my face or wash my hair if we didn't have enough drinking water,” she said when she saw Caleb's approving look. She had to raise her voice a bit to be heard over the rumble of the motor. “So I brought my own. You can't have any, unless we're stranded in the desert dying of thirst, and then I imagine it might be in my best interests to keep you alive.”

“Something to keep in mind,” Caleb said easily. “What are my incentives for treating
you
well?”

She laughed at him. “Picture yourself explaining my death at your hands to—Alleluia, for instance, or any of the angels. I think that should be incentive enough.”

He grinned, not at her mockery but at her high spirits. Starting out on this trip, she was about as happy as he had ever seen her. “Right as always,” he said. “I'll try to remember to feed and cosset you.”

“I'll pamper you, if Caleb doesn't,” Noah said, coming around from the side of the vehicle. “I think we're all finished here. Are you two ready to go?”

“Ready and looking forward to it,” Caleb said promptly. “Angela, can I help you in?”

Her gaze flickered to Noah and men back to Caleb. “Certainly,” she said, accepting Caleb's hand. “Give me a moment to arrange myself on the—seat. I'll try to get my wings out of the way.”

She climbed daintily into the high carriage and picked her way over the bulked luggage. Caleb turned to Noah. “Do you want to take the first turn, or shall I?”

“I think I'd better,” Noah said. “In case it does actually explode in my face.”

“The motor's more likely to explode, and we're closer to that,” Caleb observed. “Coward.”

Noah grinned. “Climb in. It's the ride of your life.”

Within five minutes, they were all aboard. A circle of giggling, excited Edori mikele had gathered to see them off, and they all broke into shrieks of laughter when Noah slammed the switch into forward and the Beast lurched forth with a roaring bellow. Caleb waved at the small crowd; Delilah blew kisses. One of the boys shouted something at them which was completely indistinguishable over the noise of the engine. With a slow, ragged motion, Noah hauled the vehicle into a quarter turn to clear the edges of the camp, then pointed its nose in a northeasterly direction. They were on their way to Breven.

The first few miles passed without incident as they all got used to the motion and noise of the self-propelled car. Once clear of the camp, Noah opened up the throttle, increasing the noise level along with the speed. Caleb judged that at its fastest, the Beast covered between fifteen and twenty miles in an hour, which impressed him. He was less impressed by the attendant inconveniences—for one thing, the heat generated by the motor was fierce enough to be felt by the passengers. For another, random sparks and cinders were constantly flying out to land against their clothes, their hair, their skin, Delilah's feathers. For another, when the car slowed for a hill or some other obstruction, the wind created by its forward motion was lost, and the smell of oily fuel became overpowering.

Still, they were moving, and more or less consistently, in the direction they had chosen. And it was a beautiful day, and a grand experiment. Delilah sat facing Caleb, and never once complained or protested. Indeed, she said almost nothing (since conversation was limited by one's willingness to shout), but sat there with a curiously serene smile on her face, watching the scenery crawl past. Nothing like the view she would have from the air, Caleb guessed, when every tree and every boulder must look tiny, flat and unreal; but still, a change from Luminaux. Delilah seemed like the kind of woman who would die fairly quickly if her life offered no variety.

It took them only a few hours to make it to their first landmark, the Galilee River. Noah and Caleb had decided a few days before that their best hope of crossing Samaria's biggest river was to take the Beast across the Gabriel Dam. For the most part, ordinary travelers were not encouraged to consider the dam a
bridge that they could cross at will—there were fords and bridges at intervals up and down the river that divided Bethel from Jordana. But most of those structures were comparatively frail and narrow, and might be unable to support the weight of something as massive as the Beast. Besides, no one at the Gabriel Dam was likely to deny Caleb the right to cross any time he chose.

“Caleb built this dam,” Noah told Delilah as they pulled up on the Bethel side and climbed down to the ground just for the pleasure of watching the great sluice of water pouring through its ordained slots.

“Really? All by himself?” was her reply.

Caleb grinned. “Not even close. Actually, I had nothing to do with the construction. I just designed the hydroelectrics.”

“Which were the whole point of the dam,” Noah pointed out.

“Well, certainly I was useful,” Caleb said modestly.

Three of the engineers who were permanently stationed at the dam had spotted the travelers and now approached at a run. Pointing and whistling, they circled the Beast and bombarded the men with questions. Caleb had worked closely with all three engineers, and Noah knew them at least by sight.

“What a comedown!” one of them said to Caleb, gesturing back at the stately, massive dam. “From that—to this!”

Caleb shook his head. “Not mine. I'm just along for the ride.”

“Better not ride too far!” one of the others cautioned. “This is going to knock itself apart in about five more miles!”

“Come with us!” Noah retorted. “Show us you're smart enough to put it back together!”

Caleb drew closer to the first engineer and gestured to the cascading water. “Any problems?”

The man shook his head. “The usual small things. She runs like a dream. I hear falling water in my sleep.”

“How long are you posted here?”

“Another eight months. Then, I think I'll be heading up to Gaza.”

“What's in Gaza?”

“You haven't heard? They're planning a dam at the head of the Jonah River. Construction starts late this year.”

“The Jonah? Must be a Manadavvi project.”

“It is. It'll power the whole damn coastline. You looking for work? Engineer in charge is Rafe Coburn. He'd hire you any day.”

“Tempting,” Caleb said, though he was in no way tempted.
One project as magnificent, as possessive, as completely demanding as the Gabriel Dam was enough to last him a lifetime. “But I have a lot of other things I want to do.”

The man slapped him on the arm and laughed. “Nah,” he said. “Do it again till you get it right.”

After spending fifteen minutes or so exchanging news and insults, the travelers climbed back into the Beast and roared across the wide concrete expanse of the dam. The metal cleats of the wheels made a horrific screeching sound on the hard surface, audible even over the relentless motor, but otherwise they crossed without incident. Soon enough they were back on soft, forgiving soil, waving goodbye to the men behind them.

Delilah leaned forward to offer her first unsolicited comment. “This actually feels pleasant, after the bridge,” she said into Caleb's ear. “Do you suppose anything will make us appreciate the noise?”

Caleb laughed and shook his head.

A little after noon, they made their first scheduled stop at a small stream that had been marked on Noah's map. Everyone was put to work, the men doing the heavy labor of hauling water and searching for firewood, Delilah assigned the less grueling task of laying out a meal.