by Sharon Shinn
Samuel met her eyes. “I have,” he said quietly.
She nodded at him. “And I’m afraid I may never get over my fear that it will happen again,” she added.
He shook his head. “No, you never will.”
The conference members spent the rest of the day in Semorrah, enjoying a lavish dinner at Gideon Fairwen’s house, and settling for the night in some of his dozens of guest chambers. In the morning, as they all prepared to depart in various directions, half of them tried to convince Alleya to stay another day to recuperate more fully. Even Gideon expressed his concern and offered every amenity of his household. But Alleya was restless.
“The storms grow worse, they do not abate,” she said. “I am afraid to linger too long. I must get to Hagar’s Tooth as soon as I can.”
So they bid her farewell and wished her a safe journey. She promised she would stop for the night in one of the smaller river cities, not attempting to make the whole journey in one day. She was impatient to go, and let them think it was an eagerness to discover what lay hidden at Hagar’s Tooth.
In fact, she was elated to be going to Luminaux so soon. To be seeing Caleb Augustus again in a matter of days.
Alleya arrived in the Blue City a little after noon the following day. She did not have much hope of finding Caleb in his rented room at this hour, but she tried anyway, just in case. No, he was not at home, said the baker’s daughter, but she would gladly take a message. Alleya thought a moment before composing a short note. “I have come to Luminaux because I must see you as soon as possible,” she wrote, and included the name of her hotel. It seemed certain to fetch him. Then again, perhaps he had been idly flirting with her during that public farewell at the Edori camp. That was a cheerful thought. She almost crumpled up the note to replace it with something more colorless. Then she shrugged and handed it over as written. In any case, she needed him. And he seemed unlikely to ignore her summons.
Well, she was in Luminaux; might as well go shopping. The flying clothes she had worn at the outset of her trip had been completely ruined when she tumbled to the earth, so they had to be replaced. In addition, here was a shop that offered lovely, soft, flowing tunics that could be attractively swathed around any figure. The saleswoman deftly wrapped one of them around and between Alleya’s wings, showing her how to attach it, how it appeared both belted and loose. It was impossible to resist. Alleya flashed her gold and sapphire wristlets at the woman, who smilingly nodded. Accounts would be tallied up with the Eyrie at the end of the month.
Back at her hotel, Alleya took a hot bath, then spent some time upgrading her appearance. Her yellow hair, naturally, was clipped back with the gold filigree clasp. She experimented with cosmetics to cover up the worst of her cuts and bruises, then to enhance her cheekbones and her eyes. Not something she was adept at. She surveyed her reflection critically and was not ill-pleased.
“At any rate, you look better than you did when you woke up in the farmers’ compound,” she told the mirror, and laughed aloud. She liked the way that made her look, so she laughed again.
She glanced out the window; nearly sunset. How long would Caleb Augustus work at his present job? Maybe it would take him past midnight. Maybe he would not go back to his rooms tonight. Maybe he would head directly to Seraph; maybe he would go out to the Edori camp to visit his friends, never seeing her note till the morrow. Maybe he would receive her message, and laugh, and toss the note aside. She was a fool for buying new dresses and spreading rouge across her cheeks to entertain a man who would never arrive.
She had lifted her hand to her head to yank out the barrette when there was a sudden, excited pounding at her door. “Alleya? Are you in there? Alleya?”
Caleb Augustus. She’d known he would come.
She opened the door and he bounded inside, beaming. He carried an armful of cut flowers that instantly perfumed the room. “I couldn’t believe it when I got your note,” he said, talking so rapidly he might be nervous. “I rushed right out again and only stopped running to buy you these. I hope you like flowers.”
“Yes, of course I do,” she said, taking the bouquet from him and holding the blossoms to her nose. It was a ploy; she merely wanted to hide her flushed face. “They smell wonderful.”
But he was tugging on her wrist, pulling her hands down. “Angela, what happened to you?” he demanded in a completely altered voice. “Your face—you’ve been hurt… .”
She turned away. “Let me find a glass or something to put these in—some water—”
He forcibly turned her back. “Tell me.”
She sighed, met his eyes. “A few days ago. Flying to the conference in Semorrah. I ran into a rainstorm and I was flung to the ground.”
His breath caught sharply. “Alleya! Were you hurt? Was anyone with you?”
“My hurts are essentially what you see, except for a twisted ankle, which is much more painful than I expected,” she said, attempting to speak lightly. “And no, no one was with me. It was a very frightening experience.”
“What did you do?”
“Took shelter with some farmers, and continued on to Semorrah a day or two later. I told everyone that Jovah had turned his back on me, but—I don’t know. My appearance at least convinced everyone to listen to me—convinced Gideon Fairwen and the others that I was not working with Jovah to flood the world. So this was a good thing. So maybe Jovah purposefully cast me down. As I say, I don’t know.”
He shook his head. “How you can trust such a god—”
“I think our god needs something from us, and does not know how to tell us what that is,” she interrupted gently. “I still trust him. But I admit I am worried. And that is why I’m here.”
He smiled, though it was clearly a strained attempt. He still looked shocked beyond measure at the thought of the danger she had survived. “What? Not to see me?”
She smiled back. “Yes, as a matter of fact. You see, I think you may be able to help me. And you will be delighted to learn that the council that just met in Semorrah specifically named you as the man I should go to for help.”
At that, he smiled more naturally. “I’d be interested in hearing how that came about.”
“Well, I sang your praises, of course—”
“Of course.”
“And they said I should by all means employ your skill.”
“For what daunting but glorious task?”
She moved over to a pair of chairs set before a small table, and they both sat down. “I believe the original settlers left behind a few pieces of equipment that make it easier to communicate with the god.”
“You mean the interfaces?”
“No, I think these are different. I think they’re listening devices of some kind. The old history books call them ‘ears,’ which confused me at first—but I think they’re some kind of electronic sound enhancers that help Jovah hear. Maybe something has happened to these ‘ears,’ preventing Jovah from hearing us as clearly. And I thought, since you have repaired complex, foreign machinery before—”
“Oh, I’d be happy to try my hand!” he exclaimed. “But I’ve never heard of such a thing before. The angels—and the Edori—have always claimed that Jovah could hear them from anywhere. Why would he need special listening devices?”
“I don’t know. I’m not even sure that’s what they are. But it seemed like it might be something worth trying.”
“I agree absolutely. When do we go? Where do we go?”
“The history books name the Plain of Sharon and the Corinni Mountains as two possible sites. There’s a third one, but I haven’t figured out where it is yet. But the Corinnis aren’t far.”
“Yes, but—that’s some pretty broad ground to cover, looking for something we can’t even identify.”
She nodded. “I can’t help thinking the device must be near Hagar’s Tooth.”
“Near what?”
Now she laughed. “Hagar’s Tooth. You aren’t familiar with it?”
“Obvious
ly not.”
“It’s a retreat that Uriel built for Hagar shortly after Samaria was settled. It was a place she could go and not be bothered by angels—because the grounds are entirely covered by tall, sharp spikes that would pierce angel wings if they tried to land there. She was the first angelica to use the place, but it was supposed to be available to any angelica after her who needed a place to get away.”
“And why are you so sure that’s where this ear is?”
“Legend has it that Jovah could always hear the angelica if she went to Hagar’s Tooth and prayed. Which makes me think—if there is some listening device in the mountains—”
“That it’s there,” Caleb finished up. “I would guess that you’re right. Well, at least that narrows down the mileage a little. What’s this place like?”
“I’ve never been there—angels are discouraged from going—but I believe it consists of a house and some grounds. Probably in utter disrepair by now, because I don’t think anyone’s been there for twenty-five years or more. Well, I could be wrong. I remember Levi once saying he was going to make a pilgrimage there, but I don’t know that he ever actually went.”
“Levi?”
“The last angelico. Delilah’s husband,” she said. “He died in the accident in which Delilah broke her wing.”
“And what was he like?”
Alleya was silent for a moment. It had been months since she’d thought of Levi, that reckless, handsome, mercurial man. It had been so inevitable that Delilah would love him; and it had been so obvious that he was the wrong man for her. What had Jovah been thinking? “Like Delilah,” she said. “Charming and impossible. They were like children together, always challenging each other to more outrageous escapades. There were those who were not sorry when he died, thinking Delilah would become more sedate. But that was before—” Alleya spread her hands and did not complete the thought aloud. Before they realized Delilah herself was damaged beyond repair.
“She’s never mentioned him to me.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. Have you seen her lately? How is she?”
He laughed shortly. “She’s put us all in shock. She claims she’s going to sail with the Edori to Ysral.”
Alleya felt her cheeks pale. She sat bolt upright in her chair. “No! That’s ridiculous!”
“Try to tell her that. I thought at first she was just toying with the idea, but she seems to be serious. I cannot tell you how frenzied this announcement has made my friend Noah.”
“But she can’t—I don’t mean to mock their enterprise, but Caleb, it is doomed to failure. She can’t go. She will drown with the rest of them somewhere in the middle of the ocean.”
“I know, I know. And maybe that’s what she wants. She hates the life she is living now, Alleya. It is so bitter to her that she almost cannot continue from day to day. Since she made this decision, she has been like an excited little girl planning her first trip to the city. I have never seen her so hopeful and so happy. I for one cannot take that away from her.”
Alleya was shaking her head, patting her hands against her cheeks. “I must talk to her—I must tell her—”
“Talk to her, by all means,” Caleb said gently. “But I don’t think you have a hope of changing her mind. I don’t mean to be cruel, but she hasn’t paid much attention the last few times you’ve tried to reason with her.”
She smiled wanly. “Like Jovah,” she said. “Deaf to all appeals.”
“But we can go see her tonight,” he said. “Or tomorrow or the next day.”
“I had hoped to leave for Hagar’s Tooth in the morning.”
He grimaced. “I can’t leave for another two days. I have to finish this job I’m working on or it will completely fall apart. Can you wait that long?”
She was thinking rapidly. The Corinni Mountains were so close to another place that she should visit. She had not been back for months, a shameful omission. “I can meet you there,” she said slowly. “In—what? Five days? Six? How long will it take you to travel that far?”
“No more than four days, I imagine, and maybe only three. I’ll borrow a horse.” He gave her a speculative look. “Though if you waited for me, we could travel together. You could carry me to Hagar’s Tooth. If you could manage it.”
His doubtful tone caught her attention. “What?” she demanded. “You don’t think I could?”
“Well, look at us,” he said. “I’m taller by four or five inches, and I must outweigh you by sixty pounds.”
“In case you don’t know,” she said, though she was sure he did, “angels have been blessed with gifts other than their wings.”
“Body heat,” he murmured. “I’ve heard that.”
“And disproportionate strength,” she added. “I could carry a man three times my own weight—though not far, I must admit. But you—I could carry you three hundred miles. Although it might take a full day.”
He gave a soft, almost breathless laugh. “I have to admit,” he said, “one of my lifelong goals has been to meet an angel I trusted enough to take me on a flight. I am dying to fly—you know that. And you’re the first angel I’d want to ask to take me in her arms.” She felt herself reddening again; surely he had said that on purpose. “So you can imagine how chagrined I am that I can’t leave with you tomorrow for the Corinnis.”
“Some other day,” she said lightly. “Perhaps I’ll fly you back to Luminaux.”
“I’ll have the horse,” he reminded her.
“Another time, then,” she said.
“Is it a promise?”
“I promise to do what I can,” she said, making no promises at all. “I would like to help you achieve your lifelong ambition. I’d like to take you on a flight. Maybe we’ll have time while we’re at Hagar’s Tooth. Maybe it will be sometime in the future. Does that satisfy you?”
Now he was the one to draw a long breath, reconsider, and answer in a lighter tone than he might have used. “Yes, thank you, angela. I will look forward to the day.”
“Good. Then that’s settled,” Alleya said briskly. “Are you hungry? Do you want to go for dinner?”
“Of course I do. What would you like? Someplace simple or someplace elegant? Do you want to eat at Seraph—or go there later?”
Alleya thought about it, then shook her head. “I don’t think I can see Delilah right now,” she said. “I don’t know what I’d say to her about this Ysral trip. When you see her again, tell her I asked about her and wished her well. Tell her I persuaded the merchants to give me more time. Don’t tell her—” She touched her finger to the bruises on her face. “Don’t tell her about my fall. I don’t want her to compare it to hers.”
Caleb rose to his feet and held his hand out. Surprised, Alleya gave him her hand and let him pull her out of her chair. “Very well,” he said. “We will have the night just to ourselves. Don’t bother telling me where you want to go. I think I know just the place.”
Late the next morning (later than she had planned), Alleya took off from Luminaux and headed almost straight west. The weather was cold but clear. Her course took her parallel to the coastline, so she flew low enough to enjoy the panorama of the ocean. Along the shore, the water was multicolored, layered patches of teal, indigo and violet edged with white where the breakers foamed and split. Farther out, the sea became darker, more monotonous, more mysterious. She could not imagine setting sail in that unmapped element, striking out for a place that might only exist in legend.
But then, like most creatures of the air, she was afraid of the water—always had been, despite the fact that the first ten years of her life had been spent near the sea. Her wings had made it impossible for her to learn to swim, and she had not even cared much for wading in the cold, salty shallows along the beach. Something about the eternal rise and fall of the tide, the endless pursuit and retreat of the waves along the sand, made her feel frail and at risk. She did not trust the shifting, hungry water; she was not seduced by the hiss and murmur of the waves. She never wan
ted to get close enough to allow the ocean to spirit her away.
How could Delilah have overcome that fear? Or was she merely running to it headlong, arms outstretched, as she had run to unlikely lovers in the past? Surely she must expect this to be the last embrace. Surely she must expect this one to betray her in the end.
Alleya stopped once to eat lunch and take a brief nap, though it annoyed her to need rest during what should be a fairly easy flight. She stretched out in the soft sand twenty yards from the waterline, wrapping herself in her wings and pillowing her head on her backpack. Not the height of luxury, but it would do. She closed her eyes.
And instantly began dreaming of Caleb Augustus.
He had kissed her last night on the cool streets of Luminaux, under one of those blue lamplights that gave the night there such a haunting quality. She had been as shaken as a schoolgirl taken unaware by the cutest boy in class. Although she had not been surprised. At some point during the meal (which he had seemed to relish, though she could not remember a bite of what she ate), she had looked across the table at him and felt his momentarily unguarded rush of desire.
It had given her a dizzy sense of elation, an almost triumphant sensation; she had felt her laugh grow more languorous and her gestures more deliberate. He watched everything she did with a starved intentness, but at the same time, everything she did pleased him. She could sense his utter delight in her smallest moue, her most artless remark. It was as if she were the most alluring woman in the world, the most intelligent, the most insightful. He watched her, and she felt herself grow beautiful.
“Have you ever been in love?” he asked her once, abruptly, apropos of absolutely nothing. They had been talking, if she recalled correctly, of their regret that neither of them had ever learned to play a musical instrument.
“In love?” she repeated, wondering just what to say. In the angel holds, physical gratification was fairly easy to attain. Although angels were forbidden to marry each other (except by special dispensation), there were always plenty of mortals available to satisfy the hungriest desires. Alleya had had desperate crushes on a few of the human boys reared alongside the angels at the Eyrie; she’d had a short, unhappy affair with one of her instructors, and one or two brief and less agonizing relationships with mortals at the Eyrie and elsewhere. But in love? “Not the kind of love that really means anything,” she answered.