Angel-Seeker

by Sharon Shinn

  His jewelry. For a long time, he stood in the center of his room and examined the sapphire-and-silver bracelet on his left wrist. Every angel wore just such a bracelet, ornamented with the patterns and the gems that marked the wearer for who he was and where he hailed from. All the angels of the Eyrie wore sapphires, whether set in gold or silver; the arrangement of the stones differed from piece to piece. Obadiah’s family pattern consisted of oblong stones set in alternating positions, one horizontal, one vertical, in an unbroken circle around the bracelet.

  If he were to relocate permanently to Cedar Hills, must he discard this piece and commission a bracelet set with rubies? An angel would flash his bracelet at any inn, tavern, or shop from one end of Samaria to another, so that the merchant knew which hold to charge for his goods and services. But Obadiah’s expenses would fall to Cedar Hills now. He supposed he must, after all, have a new bracelet fashioned to mark him for his new place in life.

  He did not allow himself a moment to feel saddened by this realization but headed immediately out the door. He must fly down to Velora and hire someone to cart his belongings to Jordana. It was clear he had accumulated way too much to be able to carry everything himself.

  “When do you leave?” Rachel asked.

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow! And you’re just telling me now?”

  “I thought Gabriel might have—”

  “He did, of course, Gabriel tells me everything, but he didn’t say you were leaving so soon.”

  Despite the really quite sizable lump of grief that was causing his heart to labor hard, Obadiah grinned at her. The angelica was an expressive, combative, stubborn, outspoken, and dangerous woman who really did not need the additional enhancement of masses of golden hair to make her wholly irresistible. Well, irresistible to Obadiah. There were plenty of people, at the Eyrie and elsewhere, who were not so fond of the Archangel’s unpredictable wife.

  “Everything in my room is packed up and on its way across the Galilee River,” Obadiah said. “I don’t even have a sheet to sleep on except what I’ve borrowed from Hannah. I think I’d rather be at Cedar Hills awaiting my possessions than here, simply missing them.”

  “That’s not the point,” Rachel said coldly. “The point is, you could have let me know yesterday or the day before that today would be your last day here.”

  “Well, perhaps I put it off because I did not want to say good-bye. I never like sad things, you know.”

  “No, you’re a delightful man who scatters happiness all around him, and it’s really not fair that Cedar Hills gets to have you. We need a little joy at the Eyrie, too.”

  “But the Eyrie has you,” he could not resist saying, the note in his voice teasing. “How much more joy could it endure?”

  She gave him an exasperated look, and then both of them laughed. They were best friends, in a way. They understood each other as well as if they had known each other forever, instead of only for a couple of years. Obadiah could always charm her from a sullen mood, and she could always cast him into despair; he supposed that was the definition of a close relationship.

  “You want to go, don’t you?” she asked suddenly.

  “Angela?” he said carefully. “Why would that be?”

  She shook her head impatiently. “Because it is difficult here for you. I know that. Although I can’t deny that sometimes I like to think it is difficult for you, because I know why.” A quick mischievous look, and then she was pouting again. “But it’s still not fair. You’ll go to Cedar Hills and cheer up Magdalena when she’s gloomy and help Nathan when he’s overwhelmed, and be best friend to all those Monteverde angels, and everyone will love you, and who are we left with? Eva and Ishi. I think if you come back to visit you’ll find us all depressed. I think we need you more than Nathan does.”

  This speech, remarkably, made Obadiah feel better than he had in three days. She would miss him, at any rate. He had known she would, but it was good to hear her say it. “I wish my ability to spread joy was as great as you imply, angela,” he said. “But I actually think my presence at Cedar Hills won’t really change anybody’s attitude very much.”

  “But you want to go,” she said again.

  He hesitated, then shrugged. “I think it might be good for me,” he said lightly. “I have lived at the Eyrie most of my life. They say that change improves everyone. Perhaps it will improve me.”

  Now she was scowling. “Well, don’t let Maga introduce you to any vapid society girls. Rich men’s daughters—stay away from them. They have no character and no conversation.”

  He was laughing. “Yes, angela. Anyone else I should avoid?”

  “Angel-seekers,” she said promptly. “Maga says they’re all over Cedar Hills, new ones arriving every day. She says she’s never seen so many, not at Monteverde and not in Velora. You want to watch out for them.”

  “Thank you so much for the warning,” he said sardonically. “For, as you know, those are the sorts of women I’m most inclined to spend my time with.”

  She came a step nearer, serious now, neither frowning nor pouting. “Yes, but, Obadiah, you really should meet a nice girl, you know. You have too many friends, and not enough—close friends,” she ended lamely. “You have such a good heart. You need to find someone to share it with.”

  “Except someone who is not an angel-seeker, and someone who is not a gently reared Jordana heiress,” he said. “Who exactly does that leave for me to bestow my heart upon?”

  She gave him a little slap on the arm. “I mean it.”

  “So do I! Who’s left?”

  “An Edori girl, maybe. Someone free-spirited and kind.”

  “Is that how you would describe yourself?” he said in a mocking voice. “For the Edori had the raising of you, and although they did pretty well with the free-spirited part—”

  She punched his arm again, a little harder this time. “I’m serious. You don’t want to fall in love with a—with a—conventional girl. She would be so boring.”

  “Perhaps I don’t want to fall in love at all.”

  She tilted her head to one side, studying him as if he was a block of marble and she was about to carve out a statue that she particularly liked. “Maybe I’ll just have to see to this myself,” she said thoughtfully, “since I don’t trust Maga’s taste, and you clearly are not willing to make the slightest effort. I’ll look around and see if I can’t find the right woman for you.” She straightened and gave him a warning look. “So don’t be falling in love while you’re gone. I’ll take care of everything.”

  “Angela—”

  “Stop calling me that.”

  “Rachel. I have no intention of falling in love with anyone. Suitable or unsuitable, beautiful or hideous, kind or unkind, Edori or mortal or angel or Jansai. I am content as I am.”

  She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. He stepped back, willing himself not to show his shock and dismay. “No, you’re not,” she whispered. “But you never know when your life might change.”

  After that, of course, he couldn’t wait to quit the Eyrie at first light the next morning. Stupidly, he replayed the whole conversation a dozen times in his head, that night before he fell asleep and that morning as he flung himself from the high, breezy tip of Mount Velo. He manufactured a hundred different scenarios, recast the entire dialogue, so that she didn’t read his mind so well or say such unsettling things. In his mind, he had the gift of handling Rachel. But in reality he had never quite managed it.

  It was some comfort to know that no one, not even Gabriel, had ever figured out exactly how to handle Rachel.

  The flight was easy enough, for the weather was not bad. The air was a little thick and hot, but Obadiah was cruising at extremely high altitudes, in the zones where the temperature was just right for angels with their superheated blood, but cold enough to freeze mortal bones. Rachel, who did not particularly enjoy flying anyway, hated to be carried at such high levels and would always insist that her escort drop
to a lower altitude.

  But it did not matter what Rachel did and did not like.

  By dint of traveling almost without pause, Obadiah made it to the Galilee River by nightfall, which was starting to come earlier here at the early edge of autumn. The river was dotted with small towns that thrived on trade, and though none of them would be able to boast an inn of true elegance, Obadiah knew that he’d be able to find a reasonable bed almost anywhere. So he began a leisurely descent as soon as he saw the sinuous, glinting shape of the river below him and altered his course only enough to drop into the nearest town in his field of view.

  There were two hotels, neither appearing to have an advantage over the other. Obadiah picked one at random and then had to spend twenty minutes in conversation with the proprietor, who was elated to have an angel as his guest for the night. The room to which Obadiah was eventually brought was no doubt the showpiece of the establishment, well-proportioned, overwarm, and featuring its own connected water room.

  “Very attractive,” Obadiah said, smiling cordially at his host. “I shall be quite comfortable here.”

  The proprietor hovered a few more minutes, inviting the angel downstairs for dinner or some really most excellent wine, “made locally, angelo, I know you will like it.” He stopped short of asking if the angel would be willing to sing for the customers gathered downstairs in the common room, though Obadiah knew such an event would be a great coup for the innkeeper. And any other night, Obadiah would gladly have performed, made his host happy and dazzled the neighborhood merchants, who did not often have angels come their way. But not tonight. Tonight he was tired and lovelorn and not able to summon his usual easy charm.

  “Thank you, I believe I will follow you back downstairs and have a quick meal,” Obadiah said. “And then I must return to this excellent bedchamber to sleep, for I must make an early start tomorrow.”

  “This way, then, angelo. Please follow me.”

  The food was good, the few brief conversations with the merchants who had nerve enough to approach him were painless, and the local wine was, in fact, superb. Obadiah had a second glass and felt his spirits lift a little. It would be good to see Maga and Nathan again, and he had many friends among the other angels transplanted to this new hold. He actually began to look forward to arriving in Cedar Hills.

  Magdalena, it was clear, was overjoyed at the news that Obadiah had come to live with them. “Obadiah, really? Oh, this will make everything so much better. It’s been so hot and dull here, and Nathan is always gone, and you would not believe the petitioners who gather here, every day, with question after question after question. I don’t know how Ariel has been able to stand it all these years. Though, I swear, it was never this chaotic in Monteverde. There are simply not enough of us to do everything that must be done.”

  She had flung herself into his arms when he finally tracked her down, hiding away in an acoustically imperfect chamber where she had been practicing a new song. She had refused to leave the room, claiming that someone would then force her to solve a problem or make a decision or fly off to the Caitanas to sing for rain, and so they had simply plopped themselves on the floor and begun to talk. That surprised Obadiah a little, for Maga was not an angel who liked to forgo her comforts. She was dark-haired and dark-eyed, pretty, and amiable, but she had the materialistic soul of a Manadavvi heiress.

  Living in Cedar Hills, he saw, had changed her already.

  “Poor Maga,” he said lightly. “You seem uncharacteristically fretful. I will do what I can to alleviate your various burdens, but I have to tell you that Gabriel specifically wants me to deal with Uriah and the other Jansai. So I don’t know how available I will be to head out and do weather intercessions or track down plague flags.”

  “I don’t mean to be fretful,” she said quickly. “And I don’t mean to complain. It is just that—well, it will be better now that you’re here.”

  “How’s Nathan holding up?” he wanted to know. “It is a daunting task to lead a host, I know—and in a place like Cedar Hills, where everything is so new—”

  “He is so busy all the time that you would think he would be exhausted, but the work seems to energize him,” Maga said. “Or perhaps it is Gabriel’s faith in him that gives him so much strength and resilience. Nathan would do anything to please his brother—”

  “Gabriel would entrust anything to Nathan,” Obadiah said gently.

  “Yes, but you don’t understand exactly,” she said. “Nathan is so grateful for everything Gabriel has given him. Not just the responsibility of Cedar Hills, but—well, me. We would never have been allowed to marry if Gabriel hadn’t needed us here so desperately. And we both know that. And Nathan is determined to prove to Gabriel that he made the right decision by installing us here—together.”

  Obadiah watched her closely. “And you don’t think it was the right decision?”

  “Oh! Of course I do! It is just that—it has been so hard. And the summer has been so hot.” She had said that already. “And—and I have so much on my mind. But it will be better now that you’re here.” She smiled over at him. “We must have a party in your honor right away so that you can meet all our important local merchants—and some of our major landholders. They are all quite angry at having been duped by Raphael, and so they are very interested in hearing all our plans and offering their ideas on everything. They can be quite opinionated.”

  “Have you made allies among them?”

  “Oh yes, everyone loves us,” she said with the carelessness of the charming girl who, indeed, had always been loved by everyone. “Nathan listens to them all quite attentively, and so they always leave feeling that their every concern has been heard.”

  “And you flirt with all the men and coo over all the women,” he said with a grin.

  “Obadiah! I do not! I am just very friendly with everyone.”

  “I will see for myself at this party you’re planning. But I warn you, Rachel has told me not to let you interfere in my life.”

  “Interfere! What does she mean?”

  He held up an admonishing finger. “She doesn’t want you to set out finding me a bride. She’s reserved that privilege for herself.”

  Maga smiled again. “Oh, no, she’s had her chance this past year, and she hasn’t managed to get the job done. It’s my turn now. I’ll find you a proper young woman—”

  “Not too proper,” he teased.

  “Hush. A nice young girl who will be infatuated with your blond hair and your muscular shoulders. I would think you’d be very easy to marry off, in fact.”

  “Thank you, angela. You make me feel quite eligible.”

  They talked and bantered for another half hour, and Obadiah had the satisfaction of seeing some of the worry lift from Magdalena’s face. She had always been one of his favorites—she was a favorite with everyone—though she didn’t have Rachel’s force of will or her sister Ariel’s strength of personality. She was merely a kind, gentle soul who had only once, in her entire life, fought for something outside the orderly dictates of a conventional life—and that was her union with Nathan. Angels had been forbidden to intermarry by decree of the god. And yet, it was the god who had given dispensation to these two particular angels a year and a half ago, when the whole world was in chaos. Surely Jovah had had a reason for that.

  Obadiah wondered if her pale face and listless manner could be blamed on more than the heavy burdens of leading a hold and rebuilding a province. He would have to watch carefully to see if there were other woes troubling Magdalena. He would not for the world have her grieving and not be willing to turn to him.

  Maga escorted him to one of the angel dormitories, a rather utilitarian building a couple of blocks over from the main square of Cedar Hills. His room, on the second floor, was small and unimaginative, its only furnishings a bed and an unadorned armoire. The bed, fortunately, had been made up with fresh linens, but there were no towels in the adjoining water room and nothing at all in the armoire.

&n
bsp; Magdalena looked around a bit doubtfully. “It will look better once your own things are here,” she said.

  Obadiah’s gaze followed hers around the room. “I’m thinking perhaps I need to buy a few more things,” he said. “Do you have any commerce here in Cedar Hills?”

  “Of course we do. Our market is not nearly as grand as Velora, but there are quite a few nice little shops where you can get clothing and furniture and—” She gestured at the bare windows. “Curtains.”

  Obadiah crossed to the window and gazed out. It was hard to tell where the angels gathered, in this collection of buildings, and where mortals lived and did business. Everything was spread out and pretty much equal. That was the point, he supposed, but he had a feeling he would miss the compact intensity of the Eyrie.

  “Where do you eat?” he asked.

  “Oh, you can eat with us,” she said quickly.

  He turned to face her. “You mean, there’s not one dining hall where all the angels gather?”

  She spread her hands. “Each dormitory has its own kitchen. We do have a big hall in the main complex where we can have banquets that everyone can attend, but we haven’t used it very often.” She shrugged. “In fact, there aren’t even enough angels here to fill the whole hall. But we’ve been planning at least one meal a month where we all get together. It has become a somewhat festive occasion that we all look forward to.”

  “So when I’m hungry, I can go downstairs to a little dining room here.”

  “Or you can come join us,” she said again.

  “I take it you and Nathan have quarters elsewhere?”

  “We have rooms in the central complex, and there’s a smaller dining room there. Usually a few of our angels join us every night, and sometimes a couple of the petitioners who are here—landholders, usually—and I’ll be very unhappy if you don’t come sit with us for meals.”

  He smiled at her. “Well, I will, tonight at least. I certainly would like a chance to talk to Nathan. But I don’t want my dorm mates to think I’m too haughty to dine with them, so I’ll take some of my meals here in the future.”