Jovah's Angel (51 page)

He had bowed his head as she spoke and appeared to be listening intently, half in protest, half in agreement. When she finished, he raised his eyes to her, and his face was very sober. “The time will come,” he said, “when others will discover what Jovah really is. Even now, I know men who are experimenting with disks of glass that enable them to see farther distances than the human eye can manage. It is inevitable that they will train these instruments on the sky—that they will begin to see the stars more closely, or catch a glimpse of Jovah as he circles overhead.

“And there are those besides Noah who are building traveling vehicles—and those besides me who are attempting to discover how to fly. Sooner or later, centuries from now, maybe, they will learn how to build spaceships and they will encounter Jovah, or extrapolate from what they've learned that a thing such as this ship must exist. Sooner or later, this great secret will be a secret no more. And then how will your society recover?”

“By then, it will be a different society, and people will be used to marvels. By then, they will not be afraid of flying machines, and they will know how to make their own—batteries. By then, the world will run more on electricity than faith. Science will replace mysticism, but gradually. We would be fools to force it. And we would be wrong.”

He was not entirely convinced; she could tell that by the set, stubborn look on his face. On the other hand, he was still listening.
“Perhaps you are right,” he said slowly. “Perhaps the world is not ready for the bright knowledge we have uncovered. But what would have happened to us, to all of Samaria, if you and I had not stumbled upon the truth of this ship—if we had not teleported here, and repaired the circuits, and made it possible for Jovah to hear the angels again? We would have been lost to flood and disease—we would have been destroyed when the Gloria came round, for even ten thousand voices raised in harmony would not have reached the god's ear. He would have thought we did not sing to him, and he would have released the thunderbolts that would have demolished the world.”

“Jovah, is that true?” Alleya asked, for she had feared it long enough.

“It is true,” the voice confirmed.

“So you see,” Caleb said, his voice gathering energy, “the risks are just as great if no one knows the truth. As long as Jovah guards us, someone must know who Jovah is, and guard him as well.”

Alleya nodded. “You're right. And I believe that, until now, one of the oracles has always known who Jovah is and how to reach him. My guess is that the oracle Rebekah was the one with the knowledge in this generation, but she died before it could be passed on.”

“So you will now tell one of the other oracles? You will share this incredible information with Job, or Mary, someone who will be shocked to his soul, but you won't allow me to tell Noah or another engineer?”

“One of the oracles must know,” Alleya said. “I will decide who.”

“That's a grave decision for one person to make.”

“That is why Jovah chose me as Archangel,” she replied calmly. “To make such decisions.”

Caleb spread his hands and turned away, defeated. “I cannot spread this news without your consent,” he said at last. “At the very least, I need your corroboration, because no one would believe me. Once I leave this ship, I may start to doubt it myself.”

“Then are we ready to go?”

Caleb looked around one last time, as if memorizing the placement of equipment and the pattern of lights. He sighed. “No,” he said. “I will never be ready to leave. But let us go now, anyway.”

“Jovah, how do we return to Sinai?” Alleya asked.

“Stand where you are, in the center of the room. When you are ready, merely say, ‘Teleport now.”'

Alleya raised her eyebrows at Caleb; a question. He sighed again, nodded, and took her hand. “Teleport now,” she said.

It was less frightening the second time but no less strange. She felt again that instantaneous, complete dissolution of her muscles and bones, the disconnection of skin to tissue, the unhooking of cell from cell. She felt her skull melt and her bones disintegrate and every part of her body vaporize, but still her fingers were caught fast in Caleb's hand. And when, seconds later, her body re-formed in the pentagram carved in the stone floor of Mount Sinai, her hand was still locked in Caleb's, and she believed he had never once relaxed his grip.

He was bending over her solicitously, making sure she had survived the transportation intact, both body and spirit reviving. She managed a shaky smile at him.

“What exactly is it that we have just done?” she asked.

“I have no idea. I feel like I have been completely pulled apart and reassembled. Incompletely. Are you all right?”

“Oh, yes. It's less terrifying when you know what to expect.”

He glanced around the inner chamber as if seeking points of reference. “I wonder what time it is. Do you have any idea?”

“When did you arrive here?”

“Days ago. Years ago.”

“I think it must be late at night. In any case, I'm starving.”

“Me, too,” he said. “I have some food—”

“Me, too. And I'm tired. I have to sleep, and soon.”

He smiled. “Me, too. Shall we throw together a meal, then spend the night here together?”

She nodded. “And then think about what we must do next.”

It was a quiet, almost luxurious meal, despite the fact that their dried provisions were neither plentiful nor exotic. They had found the oracle's living quarters and made themselves comfortable on more opulent furniture than they would have expected from a supposed ascetic. When they had finished their meal, they sat quietly together on the sofa, loosely embraced, talking in a relaxed and idle way. It was as if—between terror, betrayal, wonder and argument—all their passion had been spent earlier in the day, and now there was nothing left but to rest in each other's arms.

“There was a great deal else to think about,” Caleb said at
last, speaking the words into her hair. “But while we were aboard the spaceship, Jovah called me by name. You must have noticed.”

She gave a small laugh. “The son of Jeremiah. I noticed.”

He kissed the back of her head. “And, as I recall, when you left me at Hagar's Tooth, it was to go off in search of just such a man. The son of Jeremiah. When it appears I am the man you have been seeking all along.”

“Strange but true,” Alleya said. “I have not had time yet to assimilate the glad news.”

“And does this mean you must marry me? And name me as your angelico? In fact, I believe it means you have no choice. Your god has spoken, and you must obey.”

“My god is not who I believed he was,” Alleya retorted. “I may no longer be subject to his dictates.”

“Well, then, what does your heart require?” he asked. “That is where you should look for your true answer.”

“My heart is willing, but my head is suspicious,” she said. “If a man is to be angelico, he must, first of all, be prepared to carry on his religious and civic duties. In short, he must be ready to lead the masses at the Gloria and sing before a crowd of thousands.”

“Ah,” Caleb said. “Maybe I am not so eager for the role after all.”

“And he must be a patient man, willing to give his time to the petitioners who will come to him, seeking to curry favor with his wife, the Archangel, but afraid to approach her directly—”

“Well, I am sociable enough, though I do not gladly endure fools.”

“And he must, of course, put aside his own pursuits so that he can devote his time fully and completely to the life of the Archangel and the business of the hold.”

With a palm on her cheek, Caleb turned her face toward his. “Must he really?” he asked seriously. “I admit, that would be difficult.”

“Actually, I wouldn't think you'd have to give up anything,” she said. “If Hagar could disappear for months at a time to the Corinni Mountains, I don't see why you couldn't be down in Luminaux, inventing things.”

“Or Velora,” he said. “I could set up a workshop there.”

“Well, then. One problem solved. How's your voice?”

“My voice is—adequate. Not something people would pay to listen to.”

“Do you know any of the sacred masses?”

“I'm not sure what a sacred mass is.”

“How quickly do you learn?”

“How hard is it?”

“Hard enough. But if you only have to learn one mass—”

“Can someone teach me?”

“There are the music rooms at the hold,” she reminded him. “You can go there and listen for hours. If you left tomorrow morning—”

“I can't go directly to the Eyrie,” he interrupted. “In two or three weeks, I could be there.”

She shifted her body so she could face him more comfortably. “Where do you have to go first?”

“To Luminaux. To see Delilah.”

“Delilah?”

He nodded. “I think—I may be wrong—I think one of those little batteries might be able to mend her. I have to try. And soon. Before she leaves with the Edori ships for Ysral.”

“I agree. Go to Luminaux first, and come to the Eyrie as soon as you can.”

“And you'll be there?”

She was silent a moment, thinking, then she settled back into his arms. “I'll be there by the time you arrive,” she said.

In the morning, they prepared to go their separate ways. It was the first time that they had parted without the fear that they would never see each other again, and so their farewells were almost lighthearted. Still, as they stood on the landing ledge at the opening to the cavern, they were each touched by a vagrant sadness.

“It is always hard to leave you,” Caleb said, “or to watch you leave.”

“Travel carefully, and think of me.”

“Jovah guard you,” he said.

She gave him a quizzical look. “You commend me to a machine?”

“I trust him now more than I ever did.”

She kissed him quickly. “You're a strange man, son of Jeremiah.”

“Strange but faithful,” he said, kissing her in return. “Till I see you again.”

“In Velora.”

“Till then.”

And they kissed again and parted. Alleya watched for a moment as Caleb began his slow descent down the mountain; then she launched herself into the turquoise skies. She flew southwest for half an hour before making a quick landing at a small town situated on one of the main east-west roads.

“I have a message to be taken to the Eyrie,” she said after she had introduced herself to the burgher who resided in the largest house. “Can you perform that office for me?”

“With pleasure, angela,” he said. So she wrote Samuel a brief note (“I have conferred with the god, and he can once again hear all angels. Spread the news. I will be at the Eyrie in fifteen or twenty days”) and sealed it with the proffered wax.

“It is urgent,” she said. “I will appreciate your hurrying.”

Within minutes, she was on her way again. There was no reason she could not have carried her own message to the holds, of course, for she was on no desperate mission and no one was expecting her in Chahiela. But the truth was, she could not face Samuel's sharp eyes and Asher's eager questions; she needed time to think, time to reorder her numb brain. Time to reassess her role. Time to come to terms with her god.

She stopped only twice more, briefly, and made it to Chahiela by nightfall.

Delilah was no longer singing at Seraph.

Caleb had arrived in Luminaux early enough in the afternoon to run a few errands before making his way to the club. The crowd was thin, and the reason was soon evident. Two singers, a mandolin player and a flautist all played adequate, even exquisite music, but never once did the angel appear.

Caleb spotted Joseph lounging against the back wall, glumly surveying his clientele, and he made his over way to the Jansai. “You look bereft,” he observed. “I take it your star attraction has finally set?”

Joseph nodded. “Came in a week ago and said she was packing to leave. I offered her twice the money and she laughed at me. I couldn't go any higher than three times—a man's got to make a profit, or it makes no sense—but she wouldn't change her mind. She hasn't told me who she's going to, but I'll find out. It's a small city, and she's not the kind of singer you can keep secret.”

“I don't think she's planning to continue her career,” Caleb said. “So what are you going to do?”

Joseph shrugged. “Something better than them,” he said, gesturing toward the stage. “I'll find someone. Don't worry about me.”

Caleb turned away. “I wasn't worried.”

In the morning, knowing it was pointless to seek Delilah out before noon, he headed to the Edori camp to return the horse he had borrowed so long ago. Thomas was pleased to see him and waved off his apologies for tardiness.

“I knew you would return with the mare, this month or next
year, or the year after that,” said the old Edori. “You're an honest man.”