Archangel (27 page)

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. Obadiah 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.

“I don’t want to sing.”

“You never do want to sing. Aren’t we ever going to get a chance to hear you?”

“At the Gloria. I assume you’ll be there?”

“Well, I had planned to skip it this year, but since you’ll finally be satisfying my curiosity, perhaps I will show up after all.”

Maga was shocked. “You can’t skip a Gloria!”

“He was teasing,” Rachel said.

“You’re the one who’s teasing,” Obadiah said. “
Why
won’t you sing for us? I don’t mean now, I mean ever.”

“Perversity,” Gabriel said before he could stop himself. But his wife laughed at him.

“Mostly,” she agreed. “Because it makes you all so nervous.”

“Gabriel most of all, I’ll bet,” Obadiah commented.

Gabriel was smiling back at his wife. “No,” he said. “I believe she can sing as well as Jovah wants. He chose her to please himself. Therefore she no doubt sings—like an angel.”

They all laughed. The owner of the hall approached their table with some diffidence.

“I don’t wish to interrupt, but several of the patrons have recognized you, angelo, and asked if you would be willing to sing for us tonight? It has been some time since those of us in Velora were privileged to hear what the inhabitants of the Eyrie are lucky enough to hear on a daily basis—”

“I would be pleased to sing if you genuinely wish it,” the angel said.

The proprietor was all smiles. “Oh, delighted! Nothing would please me more! Do you want accompaniment? Should I ask one of the harpists to stay?”

Gabriel shook his head and rose to his feet, following the owner. “No, no, I don’t need anything, thank you—”

He was led to the back of the room and through a narrow tunnel almost too low to accommodate his wings; it was a relief to step into the comparative open space of the stage. He swept his gaze across the small room to find virtually every eye upon him, then glanced up at the table where his friends and his wife sat waiting. Until this moment he had not determined what to sing. It was that look at Rachel’s face that decided him.

He bowed briefly to the audience, laced his hands before him and began to sing. Although it was not in his usual classical style, Gabriel had practiced this particular piece in his rare spare moments in the past few weeks, and he was pleased with his first public performance of it. He felt the low burning on his arm and
saw from the corner of his eye his Kiss flicker with color. So his wife was pleased with his performance as well.

It was the love song Matthew had sung at their wedding, a simple ballad which required little more than good diction and the ability to sustain an occasional high note; but it was a beautiful piece for all that. Gabriel half-closed his eyes, working his way with physical pleasure up the slow scale at the refrain. He was so used to singing in Jovah’s honor that it was a strange, almost sensuous experience to be singing for someone else’s gratification—but he was, and he knew it, and Rachel would be a fool not to know it as well.

When he repeated the chorus at the end, this time switching to Edori, he felt the heat in the Kiss flame suddenly higher. Ah, that had surprised her; she had not thought he knew the nomad tongue. He held the last three notes a little longer than necessary, showing off perhaps, but the crowd did not find that a cause for censure. Indeed, the applause was as enthusiastic as any he had ever received. He smiled, bowed again and shook his head when there were calls for an encore. Some insistent fellow in the back row had begun chanting “Angels! Angels!” in a rhythmic voice which was taken up by the louder patrons in the hall. Gabriel saw the proprietor hurrying over to his table again, and Obadiah and Magdalena were on their feet. He made sure that he was out of the connecting tunnel before the other two entered.

“It’ll be hard for anyone else to please this crowd after your performance,” Obadiah said gloomily as they passed each other outside the narrow hallway. “I would much rather precede you than follow you.”