Archangel

by Sharon Shinn

  “Well, Obadiah’s very clever,” Gabriel responded.

  “Hannah thinks it’s not very nice of them to spend so much time together while you’re gone,” Judith said, her voice artless but her eyes keen. “I heard her say so to Rachel one day—”

  Fatal mistake, Gabriel thought. No doubt that had just made the angelica and the angel inseparable. “Hannah has a very stern sense of propriety,” he murmured. “Runs in the Manadavvi blood. But enough about Obadiah. What have you been doing while I’ve been gone?”

  Perforce she had to change the subject, so she gave him a detailed account of her own activities for the past three weeks, which he listened to distractedly. Silly to be disturbed by her malicious words, and yet—

  Judith was still describing some piece of jewelry she had admired in a peddler’s caravan when the door chime sounded again. “Gome in,” Gabriel called with some relief. He had not thought to free his hand from Judith’s before the door opened and his wife stepped inside.

  “Gabriel, how can I get money if I want it?” she asked, coming across the threshold with a bounce. He had never seen her so animated—nor so exotic. He only had a moment to take in the effect of her costume—close-fitting woolens, bright scarves, a glitter of gold—before the soft blur that was continuous existence resolved itself into the cold, hard crystal of a single bad moment.

  Rachel had stopped halfway across the room and eyed the warm tableau of angel and supplicant. “Oh,” she said, in a much altered voice. “I see you’re busy.”

  “Not at all.” Calmly, so as not to make it appear that he was snatching his hand away, he freed his fingers from Judith’s and came to his feet. Judith—surely on purpose—gave a soft embarrassed laugh and brought her hands to her cheeks.

  “Oh, I’m blushing!” she exclaimed. “Rachel—truly—this is nothing but two old friends talking after a long separation—”

  “Three weeks,” Rachel said. “Hardly any time at all.”

  Which nettled Gabriel. “I was coming to see you,” he said to his wife.

  “Obviously,” was the dry reply.

  Judith stood gracefully, though she needed to catch at Gabriel’s arm for a moment when she almost lost her balance. “Rachel, really, don’t be hurt,” she said in her sweetest voice. “I just burst in on Gabriel and didn’t give him a chance to leave the room.”

  “It doesn’t matter to me who sits with my husband and clutches his hand,” the angelica said distinctly. “I’m the one who’s embarrassed. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

  And she turned and stalked out of the room as only she could.

  Judith turned a guilty smile on Gabriel. “Well, now I’ve gotten you in trouble,” she said. “But she’s so prickly, Rachel.”

  “And now I’d best go see what she wants.” He ushered Judith toward the door.

  She went, sighing again. “I suppose this means you’re going to tell me I can’t come to your room anymore,” she said. “Or eat with you, or talk with you—”

  He would have told her that, if Rachel hadn’t made that last remark—should still tell her that, except that he was now approximately as angry as his wife. “Don’t be silly,” he said somewhat sharply, because he was not entirely pleased with Judith either. “Nothing has changed for any of us. But I must go see what she wants.”

  And finally getting both of them out of the room, he strode down the hall in the direction of his wife’s chamber.

  Rachel had obligingly left the door half-open, so he did not bother to ring the chime. She was standing with her back to him, however, and did not turn around even when she heard him enter.

  “Rachel, this is childish,” were his first words. “You cannot be angry because I was talking to Judith—”

  “I try to quickly leave any room that she is in,” she replied instantly. “The fact that you were there had nothing to do with my walking out.”

  He shut the door. “You could at least not lie about it,” he said with some heat. “If you’re angry with me—”

  “I’m not angry,” she shot back. “I’m surprised that you don’t have better taste in women. Perhaps the choices aren’t all that plentiful at the Eyrie, but you could do better for yourself than Judith.”

  “Why shouldn’t I like Judith?” he said. “At least she is pleased to see me when I arrive, which some others are not.”

  “But I have become so accustomed to your absences,” she replied. “Is it any wonder I don’t realize when you’re back?”

  Well, she had a point there; two, really, because there was no good reason he should have been sitting there hand-in-hand with Judith. Still. “Since you don’t seem to have missed me while I was gone,” he said rashly, “what did it matter if I hurried back?”

  Now she swung round to face him, her dark eyes narrowed and her face full of warning. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I understand you didn’t lack for company while I was gone, young Obadiah providing escort to Velora when you needed it—”

  “But I thought,” she said in a dulcet voice, “that you wished me to make friends among the other angels.”

  “And so I do,” he said. “But not to become so friendly that it causes talk.”

  She actually laughed. “Perhaps I have misunderstood all along,” she said. “I thought that fidelity was not a requirement among the angels. In fact, Hannah and Maga and half a dozen others have as good as told me that the whole race of angels desires nothing more than to reproduce, with the result being that angels love where they will, with whichever mortal agrees to it—”

  He was so furious that it frightened him. He wanted to slap her, or maybe strangle her. Instead, he turned away from her and crossed the room. He found himself face to face with an unfamiliar wall hanging, an abstract pattern of green and burgundy. The room, like Rachel, had become transformed. He stared at it until he was calm enough to speak.

  “You did not misunderstand,” he said icily, still with his back to her. “In general, angels have very—lax—moral standards. And you know the reason, though you choose to treat it with contempt. You have made it plain that the Edori do not recognize the sanctity of marriage, and so I cannot be surprised if, these factors taken together, you see no reason to hesitate in—enjoying someone else’s company.”

  Now he wheeled around to face her. His anger was receding, leaving a great black coldness in its wake. “But in case you are indulging yourself with Obadiah because of how you perceive my relationship to Judith, let me tell you that she is not, has never been and will not be, my lover. Despite what she may have told you and despite what she may hope for herself.”

  She was watching him again with narrowed eyes, but she looked a little more convinced, as if some of what he said was getting through. Hard to believe that someone like Rachel could be jealous of someone like Judith; the thought unexpectedly found room in his mind.

  “She certainly seems to enjoy your favor,” Rachel said, her voice still antagonistic.

  “She seeks me out. Would you have me be cruel to her?”

  “It’s not like you don’t know how to repulse someone.”

  He was surprised into a smile. “You’re no amateur yourself,” he said.

  She looked a little self-conscious. The last of her animosity seemed to have faded away. “There is something about you,” she admitted, “that makes me want to behave badly.”

  “Jovah’s little joke,” he remarked. The sudden evaporation of such intense anger had left him feeling slightly shaken, a little giddy. It was a strange sensation. He experimented with a smile. “So tell me,” he invited, “how you have passed these three weeks that did not seem very long to you.”

  Her answering smile was utterly charming. “Well, I was very busy,” she said. “That makes the time go faster.”

  “And how did you occupy yourself?”

  “Mostly in Velora.”

  “Buying, I see. I like your new clothes, let me say. They seem to suit you.”

 
She was pleased. “Thank you. But I did more than buy. I— How much do you know about the children’s home founded by a man named Peter?”

  Later he reflected that if he’d had any sense at all, he would have sent her to Peter to begin with. Everything he knew about her pointed to the fact that she would be a powerful champion of Peter’s abandoned waifs. She had always shown a special protectiveness for the disenfranchised and a fierce sense of responsibility toward children. He heard her out attentively. It was a relief to be able to encourage Rachel in some passion, to pronounce approval of some of her deeds.

  What was wanted, apparently, was funding.

  “Peter’s got the place and it could easily sleep a hundred,” she said. Gabriel had seated himself in one of the plush new chairs, while she paced before him excitedly. “But there are two problems—three problems. And they ail must be solved with money.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Well, first, he needs more than space and beds. He needs to be able to buy clothes, food, supplies. That all takes cash. And the building needs to be more than a place to sleep—it needs to be a school. He must hire teachers from every part of Velora— musicians, cooks, scribes, weavers, horse trainers—to come in and instruct the children in the various trades. We could even develop an apprentice system with some of the Velora merchants, I think, though that might be a few years down the road—”

  “And it will take money to pay the teachers. I see that. What’s the third problem?”

  “The children,” she said. “Street urchins who’ve fended for themselves for eight or ten years are not going to want to stay indoors learning their letters when they could be out stealing. It just won’t happen.”

  “Then how—”

  “Pay them, too,” she said. “It was Peter’s idea, but such a good one! Pay them for every class they take, or every examination they pass, or every night they spend in the dormitory—we can work out some system. I think enough of them would stay long enough to be reclaimed. It will take time, of course. Maybe a year or so before the school becomes a place where the children want to come—something they see as a refuge or a home. But it will work, I think. Peter thinks so. Obadiah thinks so.” She smiled again. “Maga is not so sure, but then, she thinks I’ve taken leave of my senses.”

  “You must like her, if you call her Maga.”

  “Oh, she’s marvelous. Your best gift, after the tunnel car.”

  “But she is skeptical of your plan?”

  “She’s not really comfortable outside the holds and the places of grandeur,” Rachel said, defending the angel. “She’s trying, but it’s hard for her to understand poverty in any real sense.”

  “That’s probably true.”

  “But you’re the one who has to understand,” Rachel went on, a trifle anxiously. “Because you must support it for this to work. You do realize that? If the Veloran merchants see that you’re behind the plan, they will cooperate, I think. If it’s just me and Peter— And also there’s the money thing. I don’t understand how it works, but I know that if you don’t like it—”

  “But I do like it,” he interrupted. “I think it’s wonderful. And the hold is rich. You can have as much money as you like.”

  He said it on impulse, but the reward was beyond his expectations. She smiled at him so radiantly that everything else fell away from him: Elijah, Malachi, Raphael, Josiah, Judith—the names and conversations of his recent past slipped from his mind. His consciousness was filled solely with this laughing face. Her hair flamed behind her in a golden aureole; she seemed lit from behind, from within, from the light reflected off his own wings. He suddenly saw Rachel as she should be, and all other pictures of her disappeared. Perhaps Jovah had been right after all.

  It was actually two days before he remembered Josiah’s letter for her. In those two days he spent more time with his bride than he had in the past two months. It was certainly the most amicable time they had spent together, and he thought she was as encouraged by this fact as he was.

  Most of these agreeable hours were passed in Velora, though not all of them at Peter’s school. The white-haired old priest graciously accepted Gabriel’s fresh interest in his project and did not make any comments about how the angel could have helped him out months before this. They walked through the building and discussed improvements. True, money would help, but Peter needed more than money. He needed civic support.

  So Gabriel and Rachel toured the city, discussing the school with the merchants, the traders and the moneylenders, the artists and the craft guilds. In Velora, if nowhere else, Gabriel was liked; he had always been on excellent terms with the city leaders, who were anxious for good relations with the hold. And the problem of the street children was one which had vexed many of the honest business owners for some time, he found. Nearly everyone they spoke with was willing to make donations of materials or contract to train an apprentice under the aegis of the school.

  Rachel, whom he had heretofore seen mostly at her worst, showed to advantage in these talks as well. First, she was so distinctive. Dressed as she was these days—in trousers and jacket that looked so much like an angel’s flying gear, wearing Veloran scarves and jewelry, with her wild hair tumbling any old golden way down her back—she could not help but draw attention. Second, she was so passionate. She believed so strongly in this cause, and she spoke out so plainly, that her listeners found it hard to resist her. The Velorans might be a little awed by their angelica, but she impressed them favorably. Gabriel saw that and was immoderately pleased.

  Obadiah accompanied them on some of these rounds, and Gabriel was not quite as pleased to see the easy, bantering affection that lay between the two. Well, it was impossible to dislike Obadiah, but Rachel was so wary. How had he charmed her so quickly?

  Magdalena joined them once or twice, though she was clearly not as comfortable with the whole concept of the orphanage as the others were. Rachel was right; Maga was not used to poverty. She could not think how to combat it. But she was trying.

  The second evening, after a full day spent in consultation with the merchants, the three angels and the angelica rewarded themselves with a festive evening at one of the smaller music halls liberally scattered throughout the city. The proprietor ushered them to the best table in the small, dark room, overlooking the sunken stage. Angels came here often; nearly half the chairs in the place were carved to accommodate the great wings. Rachel squirmed awkwardly in hers when they first sat down.

  “This is poking me,” she said. “I can’t imagine how you sit in something like this.”

  “Well, here,” Obadiah said, rising to drag over another chair from a nearby table and, with elaborate care, reseating her. “Is that better, lovely?”

  She smiled up at him. “Thank you, angelo. A great improvement.”

  Gabriel was conferring with the proprietor and so was able to overlook this exchange. “Anything in particular anyone wants to eat?” he inquired.

  “Anything,” Magdalena said.

  “Isn’t this the place where we got those wonderful cheese rolls?” Rachel asked Obadiah. “Let’s get some of those.”

  Gabriel nodded at the waiter, who withdrew instantly. “So you’ve been here?” he asked his wife.

  “Once. There was a Luminaux orchestra playing. Unbelievable music.”

  “Who’s performing tonight?” Maga asked.

  “Various itinerants,” Obadiah said. “I think it’s anyone who wants to.”

  “Well, that should be interesting.”

  “In Velora, it always is.”

  Indeed, it was a night of rich variety sprinkled with moments of sheer magic. Gabriel had never cared much for the percussion bands, though there was a very fine troupe from Breven playing this night and he did somewhat enjoy their interlaced staccato rhythms. The women seemed to prefer the singers, especially a trio of young girls who sang such close harmonics that it was hard to believe they were not one voice split with a musical prism into separate strands. Obadi
ah liked the stringed instruments. Gabriel was most impressed by the reeds and pipes, and leaned forward in his chair so as not to miss a note of the flute player from Luminaux.

  He was surprised to catch Rachel watching him when he sat back at the end of the flautist’s performance. “That’s what you always wanted to play,” she said.

  It was true, but he could not remember ever having said that to her. “Did I look with so much longing at the stage?” he asked with a smile.

  “You said so once. When we first came to Velora.”

  “The music is so pure,” he explained. “With drums, strings— even voices, filled with words—I am always conscious of how the musicians are creating music. But the pipes don’t seem to be making music so much as funneling it from somewhere else. Like a conduit carrying water from a river.”

  “Like an angel focusing the power of Jovah,” Maga murmured.

  “Yes, rather like that,” he said, smiling at her.

  “You could learn to play one. You’re not too old to go to school yourself,” Obadiah said.

  “Thank you,” Gabriel said somewhat dryly. “Although I rather expect I will be too old before I have the time to sit down and learn.”

  “Look, they’re calling for volunteers,” Maga said, pointing down at the stage. “Go sing, Gabriel. It’s been weeks since I’ve heard you.”

  “I don’t like to monopolize the Velora stages,” he said. “Who would be fearless enough to tell me he didn’t like the sound of my voice?”

  “Well, you have your faults,” Obadiah said, “but I’ve never yet heard anyone say you couldn’t sing.”

  Rachel laughed. Obadiah cut his bright eyes over in her direction. “And I’ve never yet heard you sing,” he continued. “Why don’t you take the stage and delight us all with your debut performance?”

  Gabriel caught his breath, amazed at the question but deeply interested in the reply. Rachel, predictably, refused.