The Alleluia Files (23 page)

Lucinda gave a small shrug, and felt her wings lift and settle with the motion of her shoulders. She was still gazing sightlessly down at the glittering water. “It still seems to me that he would want to know the truth,” she said. “
I
would want to know, if I were Bael.”

“Perhaps it’s not a truth that we can know,” Reuben said. “It’s too hard to prove one way or the other. Though we can devote our minds to analyzing the question and coming up with reasonable guesses.”

Now she turned to look at him, focusing at last on his face. “And what do you believe?” she asked softly.

“Well, you must understand that the Edori have never worshiped Yovah quite the way you angels and the other Samarians have,” he said easily. “So for us it’s not quite as big a leap as it would be for some others.”

“What exactly do you believe, then?” she said. “And why do you call the god ‘Yovah’?”

“Yovah is how the Edori have always said his name, though in the very, very old oral histories we have records of the god being referred to as Yahweh and Jehovah. He seems to be a god whose name has many variants. But centuries ago the Edori chose to call him Yovah, and so we have called him ever since.

“As to what we believe,” he said, his voice growing slower and deeper, and losing every teasing edge, “we believe he is one god of many. That he was set above Samaria to watch over this planet, to reward us when we prayed and chastise us when we erred, and to record our names on his eternal scrolls. But we do not believe he is the deity that pervades the entire universe. We do believe there is a god, all-powerful and fantastic, who knows the location of every star and the longing of every soul. This nameless god, we do believe, controls Yovah and controls all the minor gods that look after every other planet in the universe. We do not know his name or his form, but we know he is there, that he hears us, that he watches us, and that he knows us. And that he has given us Yovah because he loves us.”

“No wonder Gretchen told me you are all heretics,” Lucinda murmured. “This is blasphemy almost as astounding as the Jacobites’.”

He smiled. “It is not blasphemy if it is what you believe to be true,” he said mildly. “And, as you can see, it is a philosophy that makes it very easy to accept the idea that Yovah is in fact a machine. A starship, if you will. With no other power than that bestowed upon it by men.”

“And is that what you believe?” she asked.

He spread his hands in a considering gesture. “I am not entirely convinced,” he said. “I think it is a possibility. I think, technologically and mathematically, it could be true. But I am not completely willing to give up the idea of my personal god, standing so close to my homeland that he can cool it with his breath or wet it with his tears. I would be sad to lose Yovah as a god. But I would not be as sad as Bael.”

“But you think it is possible? You truly do? That men could
have created something so complex, so wonderful, that for centuries it could imitate the functions of a god?”

“Yes,” he said. “I truly do.”

“Then I must learn more about these Jacobites,” she said.

He laughed, obviously surprised. “So you are not offended? Horrified? Shocked? I thought you would be.”

“I have not been raised among the holds,” she reminded him. “I do not know what it feels like to be an angel who is revered by the common men. I have learned to pray to Jovah, true, and I have had him respond, but no one but me was much impressed. I have always thought he was my god. And I would be sorry to lose him. But I think I would be more sorry not to know the truth.”

“Then,” Reuben said, “I have something interesting I should show you.”

But he never got a chance. At that moment Michael shouted to him from the stern, and Rico (or Joe) called to him from belowships. “Looks like I’m wanted,” he said, and spared a moment to give her a final smile. “We’ll talk more later.”

She knew she should retire to her cabin and keep out of the way of whatever emergency was occurring, but curiosity sent her following Reuben, a few discreet paces behind. Still shouting, Rico erupted from the galley hatch and raced toward the main mast. He flung himself on it and started to frantically climb the knotted ropes to the top. Lucinda stared in amazement. Just then, she felt a sudden thump and roar beneath her, and the ship lurched forward with such abruptness that she almost lost her balance. Someone had deployed the engine. Rico had made it halfway up the main mast and began calling numbers down to his crewmates. Joe and Michael and Reuben were hauling down sails, coiling ropes, and shouting directions to each other so rapidly that Lucinda could not keep track of who was where or what they said. Maurice apparently was still in the bridge, guiding the boat forward, though it began a disorienting weave from side to side just as it picked up speed. She
hoped
he was in the bridge, and that they hadn’t just suddenly run amok.

Someone grabbed her arm from behind, and she almost screamed. “Get belowdecks,” Michael ordered. “Now!”

“What’s happening?”

“Jansai. Get below!”

“
Jansai?
” she cried, but he had left her; he was running
across the deck shouting something unintelligible to Reuben. Lucinda stood immobile, uncomprehending, feeling the deck shake beneath her feet as the engine revved to a higher pitch. She could see the bow lift a little against the rocking sea as the ship pushed its way more forcefully through the uncooperative water. Every separate plank and nail seemed to tighten against the strain, to grow sleeker and more sheer, as the ship cut through the water with ever-increasing speed. And yet, Lucinda felt panic rising from the men around her. It was not fast enough.

There was another great boom, louder and more distant, and she whirled to see what had caused it. Something huge dropped into the ocean twenty feet away, sending up a spray of water so broad that she was completely soaked. She wiped her eyes impatiently and stared. So close she could not believe she had not seen it before, a second ship was veering toward them across the waves. Like the Edori vessel, it had dropped its sails, so it must be moving under outside power. It was bigger than
The Wayward
and painted a cobalt black, hard to see against the waves, particularly at night. No flag flew from its highest mast, but it was not difficult to identify its origin: Breven.

A Jansai ship was firing on
The Wayward
.

A second time she heard that buried explosion, only this time she saw the cannon on board the Jansai ship glow with fire a moment before the heavy ball arced across the water. Again, the shot fell short; again, Lucinda and the whole deck of
The Wayward
were drenched with seawater. The Jansai ship kept coming at an alarming pace, angling across the water to intersect with the Edori vessel. Maurice had altered their course, and the whine of the engine continued to increase as
The Wayward
went faster and faster, but it seemed only too obvious that the Edori boat had been caught unaware and could not correct for disaster in time.

Someone grabbed Lucinda violently from behind, and she was whirled around to face Reuben’s angry eyes. “I thought you were told to go belowdecks!” he shouted over the roar of the engine. “Do it! Go!”

“I want to help!” she shouted back. “How can I—”

He wasted no more time on words. Heedless of how he handled her wings, he spun her with his hands and hustled her across the deck toward the ramp to the lower levels. She tried
to protest and she tried to resist, but he was impatient and furious, and he nearly shoved her through the narrow door. She felt her feathers scrape agonizingly against the tight frame, and she allowed herself to be pushed through rather than suffer further injury. Under her own power, she completed the climb down, then stood for a moment in the hallway, indecisive.

There was another cannon shot, this one sounding more muffled because she was belowdecks; the whole ship rocked with the force of the waves kicked up by the ball as it hit the water. Lucinda heard a helpless shriek coming from the cabin next to hers, and rushed down the hall to see what she could do for Gretchen.

Her aunt was standing at the edge of her bunk, one hand splayed against the wall, and her face completely colorless. “Sweet Jovah save us!” she exclaimed when Lucinda burst into her room. “Is there a storm?”

“There’s a Jansai boat coming up—we didn’t see it in time,” Lucinda said, hurrying to her aunt’s side. “We’re trying to outrun it. You might be safer sitting down. Or lying down.”

“Merciful god!” Gretchen cried. “
Jansai!
Attacking
us
? Whatever for? Will we all be killed?”

“I hope not,” Lucinda said. “Please, you must be calm, there is nothing you can do—”

“We must make this boat go faster! We must escape them!”

“Maurice is trying, I believe. Reuben says Edori boats are faster than Jansai ones, and we should be safe, but apparently we didn’t see this one coming until it was almost too late—”

“Jovah, Jovah, Jovah, merciful Jovah,” Gretchen moaned, obeying the urging of Lucinda’s hands and collapsing onto the bed. “I cannot believe this is happening. Jansai attacking. We will all be killed, I know it. We will all be drowned.”

“I hope not,” Lucinda said again. But the words were barely out of her mouth when another explosion was followed, seconds later, by the crashing noise of a cannonball connecting with wood. There was a terrible sound of rolling thunder overhead as boards were splintered and masts were struck and boxes were knocked askew. Gretchen screamed. Above them, the hoarse shouts of the Edori men tallied the damage and estimated their chances. They sounded afraid, Lucinda thought; and she grew even more frightened.

“But why are they
attacking
us?” Gretchen demanded again. “What have we done?”

“They think there are Jacobites aboard,” Lucinda said absently.

“
Jacobites
,” Gretchen repeated numbly. “Why would we— and even if—dear god, if they but knew. Not Jacobites aboard this ship, but an angel. If Bael finds out—ah, dear god, dear god—”

She went on this way for some time, but Lucinda had stopped listening. Yes, indeed, an angel aboard; and Bael would not like it at all if he found out.

“Stay here,” she said suddenly to her aunt, and slipped from the room. She ran down the short hallway and up the cramped stairway, hoping no one was close enough to notice her in time to stop her. Up on the deck, the air was acrid and thick with smoke, and the Jansai ship had drawn frighteningly close. The noise—the engine, the shouting, the whining of every timber— was incredible. Lucinda felt her eyes water and impatiently shook her head. She must see clearly. She must think clearly.

She had heard one ball land; she looked around for it. Not hard to follow its erratic trail of destruction—and there it was, fetched up against a toppled stack of crates not ten yards from where she stood. She darted across the deck to retrieve it, knowing that the instant she went into motion, a crew member would notice her. She was right. Someone shouted her name just as there was another
boom
, a singing whine, and a terrifying crash as a cannonball plowed through the wall of the captain’s bridge. She heard Maurice cry out, and she saw, from the corner of her eye, Reuben running her way across the deck. She scooped up the spent ball and flung herself aloft.

It was much heavier and much hotter than she had imagined, and she almost dropped it on both accounts as she drove her wings hard against the smoky air. But she adjusted quickly for the weight, and she would not be holding it that long. She attained an extremely low cruising altitude, and circled once above the Edori ship.

Faintly below her, she could hear more shouting—coming from
The Wayward
, coming from the attacker. She could see— or, from this distance, imagined she could see—the Jansai crowded together at the railing of their warship, pointing at her, calling out to their comrades, “Do you see? Do you see? An
angel aboard that vessel!” That should give them reason enough to pause, and so she hovered above the Edori ship, her wings spread as wide and steady as they would go, allowing the afternoon sunlight to turn her feathers golden and halo her yellow hair. If they were really tracking Jacobites, they should abandon their pursuit now, for surely they wouldn’t believe that angels and rebels would travel in peace together on the same ship.

But the Jansai boat did not slacken its pace. Maurice, she was glad to see, had not slowed
The Wayward
just because she had left it, and it seemed to her that, imperceptibly, the Edori ship was drawing ahead. The Jansai still followed, and she saw the red glow of their braziers heating up for another round of cannon fire. So she shifted her position and beat her wings against the sullen air, and attained an altitude so high above the warship that she could barely make out its dark colors. And then she opened her hands and let the cannonball fall.

She could hear the mighty crash of its arrival, the thunderous reverberations as it tore through the deck and tunneled through the hull and fell with a great splash into the sea. She had aimed just right; it had smashed through the edge of the stern and ripped away a good chunk of the planking, and even now the cold, excited water must be rushing in on two levels. She balled up her fingers, which felt taut and crackled from the heat they had absorbed, and slowly spiraled down for a better look.

Yes, the Jansai ship had stopped moving and all hands appeared to be furiously attempting to repair the damage.
The Wayward
had pulled another hundred yards away. Lucinda flapped her wings lazily and regained a little of her altitude, slowly pursuing. It felt good to fly, to unfurl her clenched wings and feel the thick, viscous ocean air lay its cushions under her feathers. She would follow from the air for another hour or so, watching out for other Jansai warships and enjoying a little exercise. By the time she landed, surely Reuben would have lost some of the fury she was absolutely certain he was feeling. Aunt Gretchen she could handle; but the Edori’s wrath was not something she wanted to face immediately.