Angel-Seeker (59 page)

The Archangel spun around with a whirl of white feathers and headed for the door of the tent. Then he paused, turned back, and fixed his gaze on an object to his left. “And I believe I will take that with me as I go,” he announced. In three long strides he had crossed to the firestick Uriah kept in his tent, lifted it from its box, and stalked back to the doorway. “Thank you,” he said, and walked out. Even stooping to duck through the canvas door did not detract from his dignity.

Obadiah paused to give the Jansai leader a sorrowful glance. “It is a new day, Uriah,” he said. “Gabriel will not relent.” And then he, too, slipped through the tent, narrowing his wings behind him so that he could ease through the constricted door.

Outside, he found Gabriel giving orders and dividing the host of angels into sections. “Every house,” the Archangel was saying, carelessly leaning on the firestick as if it were a cane. “Every tent. I will go to the Hotel Verde and prepare them for company.”

In minutes, the residential streets of Breven were alive with angels. They went in pairs from gate to gate, door to door, raising their beautiful voices and commanding the residents of each house to come forward.

“Bring us your women!” cried Daniel, Obadiah's partner in this enterprise, every time the homeowner threw open his door and stared out.

“What? I will not—
what?
” was the typical response as the blustery Jansai merchant and two or three of his sons stared at their angelic visitors.

“Then we will go to them,” would be Daniel's response, and the two angels would brush past them and into the houses.

After they had entered three or four mansions, Obadiah's impressions became somewhat confused. There were similarities to each: the great dividing wall between the men's quarters and the women's, the smooth, heat-absorbing stone of the walls and floors, the lush rugs and tapestries and gorgeous baubles strewn carelessly about as arrogant symbols of wealth. In each house, there were crowds of young men and teenage boys, alarmed and questioning; there were one or two older men, angry but a little afraid.

And there were the women, a few of them shrieking, all of them covering their faces with hastily grabbed garments, shrinking back against the walls. They could be found in the kitchens, in the separate dining areas, and sometimes—because Obadiah and Daniel did not stop looking through the house until they had found a cluster of them—a few stories up in the sewing rooms. They all looked terrified, their big eyes darting around the room, glancing from their husbands' faces to the faces of the avenging angels.

“We have come to tell you of a new day in Breven,” Daniel said to each audience. “No longer will you be forced to cower in your houses, subject to the whims of the men who are supposed to love you. The angels are setting up a place of safety in the city of Breven itself. Any woman, of any age, who wants to leave her husband's protection, or her brother's, or her father's, may come to this place and be free.”

“Any woman who wants to leave now, with us, may do so,” Obadiah always added in a quiet voice. “We will take you to Cedar Hills and give you tools to start your life over.”

They had been in more houses than Obadiah could count—fifteen, twenty—before a young woman actually broke free of her mother's protective embrace and scrambled across the room toward them. “Take me,” she begged, falling on her knees before Daniel. “Take me with you.”

Her mother screamed and her father bullied his way forward,
face contorted with fury and fist upraised to strike. Daniel blocked his blow and shoved the man backward with so much force that he crashed into a table on the other side of the room.

“She comes with us,” Daniel said, “and any other who so chooses.”

It took hours for the troops of angels to canvass the city, moving slowly from the inner circles of wealth to the outer circles of poverty. Twice Obadiah and Daniel made visits to the Hotel Verde, flying low over the streets so that anyone who wished to look up could see that angels had invaded Breven and were present still. Each time they brought back with them a woman who had stepped forward and asked to be given shelter. Each time they found, back at the hotel, a growing cadre of rebel women who had similarly taken this remarkable chance. Not as many as Obadiah would have expected—frankly, he would have thought the whole gender would have risen up and fled the city limits—but a good number, thirty or forty. Enough to send the Jansai men fuming into the streets. To create a backlash, perhaps, to make conditions even worse for the women left behind.

But so many of them had stayed, wedded to their accustomed lives and the families they loved. Had she not been pregnant, Obadiah wondered, would Rebekah ever have chosen to abandon the life she knew for a terrifyingly unfamiliar place and people? He did not think so. He thought only great fear, and the fierce love she bore for her endangered child, had driven her out at the end—almost too late, even so. He had to wonder what compelling pressures these refugees were under, how dire their own lives had become, that they, like Rebekah, would make the bitter decision to break away.

“I think we have covered the city,” Gabriel said, coming up to Obadiah as he surveyed the crowded atrium of the Hotel Verde. Zoe and her brother were bringing out pillows and blankets and helping the women create makeshift bedrooms by the pillars and plants. “Eva and Ariel are back from the outer tents. We have carried the word everywhere.”

“And returned with quite a haul,” Obadiah said.

Gabriel's glance flickered over the crowd. “We may find ourselves with one or two more before the night is ended,” the Archangel predicted. “Women who were not willing to walk away while their
whole families were watching may find a way to slip out under cover of darkness.”

“And Zoe?” Obadiah asked. “Has she agreed to turn this hotel into a safe zone for Jansai women?”

A wintry smile lightened Gabriel's stern features. “The young lady was most willing,” Gabriel said. “Her brother and father, however, would like to work out a system of monetary compensation. This hotel is a commercial establishment, after all, and cannot support a whole range of charitable endeavors.”

Obadiah could not help smiling. “Jovah bless the Manadavvi and their mercenary hearts,” he said. “But you have come to an agreement?”

“Not yet,” Gabriel said, “but we will. I think I will leave a few angels here for a day or so yet, and we will probably need to have a permanent presence in Breven for a while. But I believe we have made our point and shaken Uriah to the core.”

“He will agree to the terms,” Obadiah said.

Gabriel shrugged, utterly indifferent. “He will have to.”

Obadiah nodded. “Then, if you are done with me—”

Gabriel gave him a swift look of amusement. “Back to Cedar Hills tonight? You are that impatient?”

Obadiah shook his head. “No. I will leave with the rest of you in the morning. But I have another visit to make while I am here.”

It was true night by the time Obadiah came to a hover above Hector's house. His first impulse was to go to the front door and pound on it, demanding admittance, as he had done all day. But then he spotted two figures below him in the sere inner garden. From the air they appeared to be two older women, sitting on a stone bench in the cold dark, their faces fairly well-illuminated by the light of a half moon. Obadiah wondered if they had come outside to discuss secrets in privacy, or if they were so weary of the echoes of trouble that still sounded inside this house that they sought an escape by sitting out in the chilly night air.

“Do not be afraid,” he called out in a low voice, and drifted down to join them. Both women came to their feet as he touched down and
folded his wings back, but neither of them looked alarmed. One of them automatically covered her face with her hand, so the stranger could not see it, but the other one looked too weary and too sad to make even that much effort.

“The angels have already been here,” said the bare-faced woman in a tired voice. She looked old enough to be Rebekah's grandmother. One of Hector's aunts, perhaps. “You do not need to tell us again how the city of Breven is now flung open.”

“No, I have other news,” Obadiah said. “Bring the boy Jordan to me. I have a message.”

“A message?” the old woman said sharply, and then turned to her companion. “Go get Jordan.”

She hurried off, and Obadiah was left alone with the woman who had spoken. “It will do no good, you know,” she said. “Rounding up women and pretending the Jansai must live as the rest of you do. For hundreds of years, the Jansai have followed their own laws and customs. No matter what your Gabriel manages to do while he is in charge, everything will change back the minute his laws are lifted. The Jansai traditions are stronger than the Archangel's will.”

“Maybe,” said Obadiah. “But there are thirty or so women who have chosen to come with us today, and their lives will be immeasurably altered—and the lives of their daughters and their sons. I think that is good enough for Gabriel.”

The old woman shrugged. “Maybe I am too old and have seen too much,” she said in a harsh voice. “I no longer believe in miracles.”

Just then, the door to the house opened, and a young boy emerged, unaccompanied by the woman sent to fetch him. He looked to be about fifteen, his face sloped and angled just like Rebekah's, his expression solemn, his body tense.

“We have already been visited by angels today,” the boy said quietly. “My stepfather has heard your conditions.”

Obadiah wanted to brush the dark hair from the boy's eyes, to put his hands on the thin shoulders and transfer some of his own strength into that slim body. But he was a Jansai man, or would be soon, and not likely to welcome easy sympathy from an angel.

“Jordan,” Obadiah said, “I have a message from your sister.”

The boy stiffened, and the old woman cried out, then covered her mouth with her hand.

Obadiah continued. “She is alive, she is in Cedar Hills, and she is under my protection. I will care for her—and her baby—the rest of her life.”

“You?”
the old woman whispered. “An angel? It was
you?
”

Jordan's face was expressionless—not as if he hid fury, but as if he was too afraid to believe, in case the words weren't true. “She gave me two things to give to you,” Obadiah went on, pulling the items from his vest pocket and offering them to the motionless boy. “This letter and this bracelet.”

The letter was sealed, and Obadiah had no idea what words it contained. The bracelet was his own, a circlet of silver set with sapphires. It was meant for a man's wrist, Rebekah had explained, and Jordan knew how much she had loved it.

“She is—Rebekah is alive?” Jordan whispered, his fingers closing over both tokens.

Obadiah nodded. “You are to tell your mother as well.”

“Praise the great good god,” the old woman breathed, and began to cry. Jordan turned to her swiftly, as if to offer manly comfort, but Obadiah was not deceived. Even in the dark, he had seen the glitter of water in the boy's eyes. When Jordan bent over the old woman, murmuring something into her ear, a tear sparkled across his cheek and fell unnoticed onto the hard earth of the garden.

T
he driver clucked impatiently to his horses and tried to maneuver around the broken-down rig in his way. Not that he would get very far very fast even if he was able to pass the wreck. The streets of Cedar Hills were jammed with conveyances of every description—Edori carts, Manadavvi caravans, wagonloads of lumber, and grain and merchandise—all jostling together down the main avenues with a clamor of hooves and squeals and curses. His own course would take him through the completed central district and down to the warehouses on the far edge of town. He was beginning to wonder if he would not have been better off striking out across the unpaved grass and circling the city to its western edge. The horses might have foundered in the slashes of mud and patches of snow, but all in all, he didn't think he would have wasted so much time.

“Jovah's bones! Will you move out of the way?” some irate traveler called out behind him, but he merely shrugged and pointed to the obstacle in his path. Two laborers were grunting over the ruined wagon, trying to pull it to the side of the road, but it didn't look as if they'd make much progress very soon. He might be here for the rest of the hour.

The driver took advantage of his temporary pause to glance around the city and see what had changed in the months since he'd been here. There—that restaurant looked new—and surely that shop
on the corner had just opened? He thought it had been covered in board and scaffolding last time he'd driven through. He might stable the horses and take a room for a day or two—plenty of new hotels to try out—and spend a little time browsing through the retail establishments. The god knew he got little chance to savor the luxuries of life when he was on the farm or on the road.

A cluster of young women walked by, laughing and talking, and he eyed them appreciatively. Not quite spring here, but they were all dressed in pale, fluttering dresses, made of the thinnest lace and gauze. Might be more to see in Cedar Hills than cafes and the newest fashionable clothing. That brown-haired girl, she looked like she'd offer a man an interesting time, or that tall blonde, or the one with the dark auburn hair framing a serious face.

Hold a moment. He knew that face—he knew that hair. He frowned, trying to remember, for he only had a few acquaintances in Cedar Hills, and none of them were quite so youthful. But even though she was half turned away from him, responding to something one of her companions had said, he had the clearest memory of her features, seen at a close and friendly distance.

And then he remembered. “Elizabeth!” he called out, standing up and waving to get her attention. “Elizabeth! Hey! Over here!”

At the sound of her name, she turned and scanned the traffic, trying to identify the man who would address her so rudely in public. She said something to the women with her and then crossed the road to speak to him.

“Yes?” she said, her voice neutral and the look on her face warning him that she didn't take solicitations from strangers.

But he was delighted to see her. “Elizabeth! It's me! Bennie! How are you? It's been months since I left you here!”

“Bennie—” she said, and then her face changed. She smiled up at him, turning into a much prettier girl than he remembered. Then again, she hadn't smiled much on their trip together. “Well, hello! I never thought to see you again. What brings you to Cedar Hills?”

He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, indicating his cargo in back. “Got a load to deliver. His lordship struck a deal to send hardwoods to the hold. All this building going on, I can't imagine there will be a tree left in Jordana by the time it's all over.”

“So you're still working for James? How's everybody back at the farm?”

He grinned at her. “ 'Bout as you'd expect. Such a ruckus there was when you didn't come back with me!”

“I'm sorry. Did you get in trouble? Doesn't look like they fired you.”

“Well, your cousin was all set on letting me go, but his wife had a much more realistic view. She said, ‘Elizabeth's a grown woman and well able to take care of herself. If she wanted to leave the safety of a good home for the uncertainty of life as a—' Well, you don't want to hear exactly what she specified there. Anyway, she said, ‘That's entirely Elizabeth's decision. We certainly don't need to lose a good worker because of that silly girl's behavior.' ”

“Sounds like Angeletta,” Elizabeth observed. “I'm surprised she didn't offer you a bonus for getting rid of me.”

Bennie grinned. “Who says she didn't? Anyway, they kept me on. I thought about moving on anyway, since the life doesn't quite suit me, but his lordship decided I should be his primary driver. And I like the travel just fine. So I'm staying. For a while, anyway.”

“I'm glad to hear you're doing well.”

“And you? Don't mind if I say that you look wonderful.”

She laughed. “I don't mind at all. I feel wonderful. Life has been very good for me in Cedar Hills. Thank you for recommending Tola's for me. She's been very kind.”

“So you found a place, found a job, all that?”

“Yes. I'm learning to become a healer, and I've made many good friends, and—oh, it's the best part! I've fallen in love.”

“Did you now! So that angel thing worked out for you after all.”

She shook her head. One of her friends, waiting impatiently across the road, called out Elizabeth's name, and she held up a hand to indicate that she'd only be another moment. “No. Turns out I didn't have much luck with angels. But I've found someone better.”

“I didn't know there
was
anything better,” he observed.

She laughed again. “Neither did I.” Her friend called to her again. “I've got to go,” she added. “It was good to run into you. If James asks, tell him you saw me and that I'm well and happy.”

“And if he doesn't ask?”

“Then make sure you tell Angeletta.”

Bennie was the one to laugh at that. With a quick wave, she made her good-bye, darting across the street just ahead of an oncoming vehicle. Bennie watched her go, saw her exchange a few animated words with the other women, and kept his eyes on them till they disappeared around one of the newly painted corners of Cedar Hills. No more time to dawdle or daydream, though; the wrecked rig in front of him had finally been dragged out of his way. He snapped the reins, and the horses started forward, picking their way past the ruined wagon. Yes, he thought he might stay in Cedar Hills for at least a day or two. Even if he never caught sight of Elizabeth again, there was so much to see in this freshly built town. It was a city of possibilities, after all.