The Book of Joby (81 page)

Merlin was at home, happily immersed in a gardening magazine when the room around him suddenly filled with radiance unlike any kind of sunlight. He whirled around, but couldn’t find the source of it.

“Merlin! I have need of you!”
Michael’s voice boomed from all directions.

It had been centuries since Merlin had been summoned in this way by anyone at all, much less by an angel, and the distress in Michael’s voice filled him instantly with apprehension.

“What has happened?” Merlin asked fearfully. “Where am I to find you?”

“Ride my voice!”
the angel commanded roughly.
“There isn’t time!”

Clearly something dreadful was afoot. Without further questions, Merlin
drew upon sufficient power to step into the ether where the angel’s summons streamed away toward Taubolt like a ribbon of light. Willing himself along that ribbon, Merlin found himself standing in a potting shed beside the Heron’s Bowl before a gaping, dark-eyed boy of East Indian complexion, and a frighteningly agitated archangel.

“What’s wrong?” Merlin asked.

“The presence we’ve pursued since midsummer,” Michael said, “is Gabriel.”

“What?”
Merlin exclaimed. “That can’t be! Its mind is—”

“Demonic!”
Michael groaned. “After bringing Joby here, my brother was exiled from the Creator’s presence for the duration of the wager. He fears damnation, and it seems he has surrendered to despair.”

Merlin was aghast. “And you never told me?” he asked, already guessing why.

“I thought to spare you the implications.” Michael frowned, confirming Merlin’s fears. “He allowed this boy to bond with him this morning in the Garden.”

Merlin turned to look at the boy with greater interest. “Are you still bonded?”

“It was only for a moment. Then he left me,” said the boy, still gaping at him. “You’re
Merlin
?” he asked, lost in astonishment. “
The
Merlin?”

“For better and for worse,” Merlin growled, “I am. And your name is?”

“Swami,” said the lad.

“You were able to endure this bond then, Swami?”

“His mind is like a fire,” Swami said. “But he meant me no harm. He broke the bond when he saw that it was hurting me.”

Merlin turned to Michael. “Then he may not be past reaching.”

“We must try to bring him back,” said Michael. “While there is any hope at all, we must! Swami has agreed to help us.”

“This mere lad?” Merlin exclaimed turning to the boy again. “How? Why?”

“For whatever reason, Gabe trusted him as he has trusted neither of us,” Michael said, clearly pained by the admission. “They have a bond, however small. And I cannot be both channel and physician, Merlin. We both know how adversarial this will be.”

“You intend to use this
child
as a channel?” Merlin said, appalled.

“His gifts and strength are greater than you credit, Merlin, or I would never have asked this of him. Particularly his capacity as an empath. Have you some secret store of that skill, which I am unaware of?”

It was a rhetorical question that Merlin didn’t bother answering, but
turned back to the boy. “Swami, have you any notion what this means? What it could cost you?”

“Michael has explained it very clearly,” Swami said, demonstrating at least sufficient sense to look afraid. “I don’t know if I’ll have the strength to hold that much pain for very long, but I want to try. To save an angel,” he added, still looking too wonderstruck for Merlin’s comfort. Still, it had been bravely said, and it was doubtless true that Michael would not have asked the boy unless he really thought him able.

“We must go back there now,” the angel pleaded, “before whatever remains of their bond fades.” Michael turned to Swami. “Are you ready?” When Swami nodded, Michael smiled gratefully and took his hand. An instant later, the shed was empty.

Swami rose toward consciousness as if through sodden velvet curtains, letting the rustle of breeze-born foliage, the smell of dewy earth, and the play of cool air across his skin draw him back into the waking world. When he finally opened his eyes, he was relieved to find them all still there. Merlin, the enchanter of ancient tales, sat propped against a stone, contemplating the morning sky. On a fallen tree beside him sat the two others, one dark and beautiful despite the weary sadness in his face, the other, golden-blond and familiar to everyone in Taubolt, yet truly known by none, it seemed.

Two archangels!
It still dizzied him. Who was he to keep such company? And yet,
they
had needed
his
aid, and he had not failed them. That fact alone seemed sufficient to justify everything he’d been through, and a great deal more.

Though it seemed unlikely that he’d ever fully understand the bulk of what he’d been through, the ordeal had left Swami in possession, by default, of much of what the wounded angel knew. He understood now that Taubolt and all it protected were in far greater danger than anyone but these few around him guessed; that the things he had always taken for wonder were just the thinnest skin upon a world of marvels unimagined by himself or anyone he knew; and that Joby was the poor, unwitting fulcrum on which all their fates were balanced. Swami could only grimace now at the woeful ignorance in which he had risked bringing Joby here.

Despite all these revelations, what most occupied Swami’s mind was the crucible he’d just been through. For two days and nights without ceasing, Swami had been the living link through which Merlin and Michael had
waged war against the animal madness on which Gabriel had cast himself adrift. It had been inexpressibly painful, exhausting, fearful work, endured not in hours or even minutes, but instant by instant as the punishing current of their spiritual battle had passed through the fragile wire of his being. Much of what Swami could remember seemed just a fevered plunge through mental landscapes as incomprehensible to him now as they had been then, but, in the end, they had succeeded. Gabriel had returned fully to himself, relinquishing his lion’s form, and Swami had been allowed, at last, to drop into exhausted sleep virtually where he stood.

Now, probing his own mind, Swami found the person he’d always been still there, intact, but stretched across a great deal more that he had never been, or at least never been aware of. It seemed that he would, and would not, ever be “himself” again.

He was about to sit up when the darker angel said softly to no one in particular, “My soul’s become a foreign land. I feel such remorse. . . . What have I done to us all?”

“Gabriel,” Merlin said gently, “you are hardly the first of your kind to flee the anguish of despair in that fashion. But you are one of very few to willingly return. I stand in awe of such great heart. Temper your remorse with that.”

“I share the fault, brother,” said the lighter angel Swami still couldn’t help but think of as Jake, “I should have spoken less harshly when you brought Joby here. That you should think I would not let you stay . . .” He looked away. “You should never have been made to waste your strength in hiding from us all.”

“Peace, Michael,” Gabriel said. “I was hiding long before I came here.” Swami saw his gaze grow distant. “With Joby gone, I had no purpose left to fill the time. No hope at all. Everywhere I went, Lucifer’s minions taunted me with visions of my coming damnation. I was half-mad with their torment before I ever thought to seek the Cup’s protection.” He looked up at his brother, eyes glistening. “I remember, Michael . . . how you warned me.” His face fell in shame. “You were right. I am a fool.”

“I’ll hear no more of this!” Merlin snapped with surprising vehemence. “There is only One with authority to assign your fate, and He has yet to speak. We have not all suffered these past two days just to have you sink back into despair and madness.” He fell abruptly silent, then shrugged apologetically. “I’m sorry. Truly. We all have remorse to deal with, it seems, and I deal with such things less gracefully than angels.” He offered Gabe a rueful smile. “No doubt my demon father’s influence.”

As Merlin spoke, Michael glanced at Swami and smiled to find him looking back. “Our hero is awake,” he said.

“Good morning, lad,” Merlin said gruffly. “Now I fear you’ve seen the mighty in yet another flattering light. Sorry for the rude awakening. I hope your sleep was good. God knows you earned it.”

“I feel much better now,” Swami said, sitting up stiffly, and rubbing at his eyes.

As Swami’s fists fell away, he found Gabriel kneeling beside him. “I owe you more than I can pay,” said the angel, leaning down to kiss his forehead. In awe, Swami watched him draw his perfect face away, as all the stiffness of his night on the ground suddenly departed. His body tingled with such energy that he couldn’t keep from standing; half-certain he’d be able to fly if he tried. “I am in your debt forever, little brother,” Gabriel said, smiling uncertainly at Swami before returning to his place beside Michael and Merlin.

Little brother.
He’d been called
little brother
by an
archangel
!

“I have lived a very long time,” Merlin said, “and never seen a braver act than the service you performed here, young man.”

“Thank you,” Swami answered, not sure what to make of such praise from beings as far above himself as he was above an ant. “I’m not sure how I’ll keep the rest of my life from seeming dull now.”

Michael and Merlin laughed. Even Gabriel smiled.

“There will be some need of heroes around Taubolt for a while yet, I suspect,” Merlin chuckled. “I doubt you’ll lack employment.”

“Believe me,” Michael grinned, suddenly seeming more like “Jake” again, “it’ll be good to have someone else who knows what’s really going on around here. You have no idea how hard it’s been havin’ no one to talk with but this cantankerous old wizard.”

“Michael?” Swami said uncertainly.

“Yeah?”

“Do you mind if I still call you Jake?”

Michael’s smile softened. “You’ll have to,” he said. “More than ever, the folks in town have got to see me as a trusted peer, not some exotic icon from their mythic past. Besides, I
am
still Jake, Swami, much as I ever was. I’m just him and more. Can you see it that way?”

“I’ll try,” Swami said, uncertain. “I guess . . . I guess I’m that now too.”

“You are,” Merlin said gently, “as much yourself as ever, Swami. A passage like the one you’ve just been through cannot help but change you, but underneath every tree ring, the ring before remains. Rest assured, you’ve gained
much, and lost nothing that would have been yours to keep in any case. Growth changes us all.”

“As for that,” Michael added seriously, “what you’ve touched inside my brother’s mind still belongs to him and no one else. Hard as it may be, you must guard it all as someone else’s treasure, for that is what it is. Do you understand?”

Swami nodded solemnly.

“Well then,” Michael said, “glad you’re awake. You should eat something while we all get our signals straight about how to handle things.”

Merlin had already gone to their small fire, where he ladled oatmeal from a pot Swami knew they had not brought with them, into a bowl that had also come from who knew where. As he brought the bowl to Swami, Merlin glanced at Michael and said, “I assume that containment is still our primary aim?”

“If it’s still possible.” Michael nodded.

“In addition to providing some plausible explanation of what he’s seen then, our story must discourage him from wanting to know more. Any ideas?”

Swami disagreed completely, but he held his tongue. Surely, such powers knew better than he what was best.

“Swami?” Merlin said. “You have something to say.” It was not a question.

“Well,” Swami hesitated, “if Joby’s your grandson, then he’s of the blood, more than lots of us are.”

Merlin nodded.

“So, I don’t see why we’ve all been hiding from him . . . or why you’ve hidden him from us.”

“Swami,” Michael said, “you were born in Taubolt, and embraced its secrets with a child’s ease. Joby grew up in a different world, one that makes no allowance for even the possibility of such things. By the time he got here, Joby was a ruin of the man he might have been but for this trial he’s caught in. He is so much better today only because the Cup and Taubolt’s people have provided him sufficient protection to heal and find himself again—a task still far from finished.”