“Sweet Jovah singing,” Ariel whispered.
“And if we don’t agree to this?” Gabriel demanded. “If we say, ‘This is a risk we are not willing to take’ and we sing? How can he stop us? We are hundreds of voices and he is but a few.”
“He has fashioned—weapons of some sort,” Jezebel said. “He demonstrated their power to us on the mountaintop. They look like long, hollow wooden tubes, except they are not of wood, and they throw fire a hundred yards away.”
“Fire!”
“And whatever that fire touches, burns. I saw Saul throw fire at a bush, at a rock and at a flying bird, and each thing flamed and disintegrated into ashes. It was frightening.”
“If we do not agree to his terms, he says he will turn the fire tubes onto the people gathered on the Plain for the Gloria,” Josiah said quietly. “He says if we are afraid of conflagration, we shall have it one way or another, if we do not do as he says.”
Gabriel sat staring at the canvas flooring beneath his feet. There seemed to be no way out—there was death and disharmony down any of these limited paths, and it was Raphael who had shepherded them to this bloody crossroad. How could he allow Raphael to turn strange weapons against helpless, trusting people? Yet how could he stand by, and let the god’s deadline pass, and open the whole world to destruction? For when that thunderbolt struck the mountain, who could tell how severe its power would be, where the reverberations of its force might echo?
And if the thunderbolt did not fall—?
He looked up to find everyone else in the tent anxiously watching him. Even Ezekiel had his milky blue eyes turned his way. There was to be no debate, apparently. They waited for him to decide.
“We have no choice,” he said quietly. “We have to let the deadline pass. We will watch in silence as the sun goes down, and see if the god does indeed destroy the mountain—and Raphael and every last angel standing beside him.”
“Gabriel,” Nathan said in an urgent voice. “We could—you and I, a dozen of us—could fly to some other point. Hagar’s retreat, perhaps, where Jovah’s ear is sensitively attuned. Raphael would not hear us there. We could sing a small Gloria, loud enough to avert disaster—Jovah would understand—”
Gabriel shook his head. “It is the worst thing we could do,” he said gently. “For if Jovah heard, and spared us, he would be sparing Raphael as well. And the Archangel would believe for certain there was no god, and the people gathered on the Plain would believe Raphael, and all Samaria would fall into chaos and dissonance anyway.”
Jezebel was watching him with her calm dark eyes. “And if we wait on the Plain in silence, and the sun goes down, and no thunderbolt falls on Raphael? What happens to all of us then?”
“Then we will know,” Gabriel said simply. “And if it is true there is no god, and for five centuries we have worshipped nothing but a myth, then it is time we learned that.”
“If no thunderbolt falls, and Raphael declares himself ruler of the world, we have some grave problems,” the Gaza oracle continued. “For he is not the man to lay aside a weapon once he has discovered how to use it.”
Gabriel nodded. “Yes. I realize that. Even if we learn that there is no god, we will have to find some way to contain Raphael. At the moment I have no ideas.”
“But, Gabriel, the lightning will strike, won’t it?” Ariel asked, her voice very troubled. He thought it strange that she directed the question at him, and not at one of the oracles. “When we disobey the god, he will punish us—he will smite the mountaintop, he will cause the rivers to rage. He watches over us and hears us and responds to our actions. I have believed that my whole life. Surely it is true?”
He looked over at her, his favorite friend, the angel to whom he felt closer than any other except his brother. “Are you asking me if there is a god?” he said, still in that soft voice. “All I can say is, I believe there is. I feel him when I sing. He has responded to my prayers countless times. He guides my actions and he dwells in my heart. I know he is there.”
He paused a moment. “But will he smite the mountaintop?” he continued. “Will he indeed turn wrathful at our disobedience and strike us down for our loss of harmony? I don’t know. Perhaps his power is not as great as we have always believed. Perhaps he loves us too much to punish us by fire and death even when we have disobeyed him. Perhaps, for some reason, he wants our faith to fail and a false Archangel to rule Samaria for twenty more years, or fifty. His ways are inscrutable to me. I do not know that the thunderbolt will fall.”
He took a deep breath and looked around the tent. They were all still watching him, their faces tense, worried, speculating on potential horror. But they were all listening to him, as if only he of all the angels on Samaria could have the answers, speak the truth.
“But I believe it will,” he said, “and then we shall know the wrath and might of Jovah.”
Rachel did not return with Obadiah, of course, so he sent the angel back to watch over her journey.
“Shall I fly above her at a discreet distance?” Obadiah inquired.
“Don’t bother,” Gabriel said. “Even if she doesn’t see you, she’ll know I sent you.”
“At what point do I swoop down and carry her back to the Plain?”
“If they have no chance of arriving here by tomorrow night.” Gabriel hesitated, then added, “If that becomes necessary, try not to frighten her.”
Obadiah laughed incredulously. “Frighten Rachel?” he said. “It can’t be done.”
Only one small part of him was free to fret over Rachel, however. Another small corner of his mind noted that Maga had returned with Obadiah and been welcomed by Nathan with a gesture that would definitely be classified as an embrace. He wanted to express his severe displeasure, but he did not have the time, or the heart.
If the world is to end in a day or two anyway, he thought, they may as well have their kisses now. The thought was unutterably depressing.
He had no time to think of Nathan or even Rachel, because the situation, which had been as bad as he thought possible, overnight had gotten worse.
He had gone to the Manadavvi camp to seek out Elijah and Abel, to try to make some kind of peace with them now that Raphael had so obviously lost his mind. He found them preparing to depart.
For Mount Galo.
Elijah greeted him with cool aplomb. “I am sure you have come to debate theology with me again, Gabriel,” he said. “And of course I enjoyed it so much last time. But, as you can see, I am in a hurry.”
It had been a moment before Gabriel realized where the landowner was heading. “You’re going to the mountain,” he said flatly. “To stand beside Raphael and defy the thunderbolts.”
Elijah nodded. “Exactly,” he said. “Raphael has made it very clear that those who stand with him will reap tremendous rewards. Those who doubt him will be overlooked. I have spent a lifetime accumulating my wealth. I am not ready to lose it over such a simple test.”
“A simple test—! Elijah, don’t you know, don’t you fear—?”
“I know that you cannot prove to me there is a god, and Raphael can prove there is not,” the Manadavvi cut in. “I am tired of being governed by sanctimonious angels who flap their wings at me and murmur of Jovah’s might. Well, I too am mighty, and I am not afraid. And you will find I am not the only one who welcomes this chance to defy you and laugh in the face of the god.”
And that proved to be true. Gabriel spent the next two days among the powermongers, the Manadavvi, the Jansai, the rivermen, and was dismayed to find how many of them had defected. Oh, Malachi and Jethro and the others were no surprise, but there were more—small, petty landowners who saw a chance to increase their holdings by joining the renegade Archangel. Even a few independent farmers and herders had decided to make the hard climb to the top of Mount Galo, to prove their allegiance to Raphael and their defiance of Jovah.
Those who stayed behind were fearful, accusatory and close to panic, as Gabriel also quickly found. They bombard
ed him with questions and demands—”Is there a god? Can you save us? How can you let Raphael imperil us all? Call down the lightning now, prove to us that Jovah is strong”—and he soothed them as best he could, which was not very well. He set the other angels to the same task, so that the wide wings hovered over every camp-fire, brushed every small tent, spreading calm, spreading hope, what little there was of either.
He had been surprised to find young Lord Daniel of Semorrah still in his father’s tent near the other rivermen. Gabriel had never had a high opinion of Daniel, thinking him just his father’s shadow, and he said as much in his greeting.
“So your father hedged his bets, did he?” he asked. “He stands beside the Archangel and you wait on the Plain with me. Either way, one of you survives and safeguards the family coffers.”
Daniel turned a pale, strained face to the angel. “That was my father’s thought when I refused to accompany him,” he admitted. “But I—I do not wish to die in a blaze of white light when the god shows his anger. I had rather live, even without the wealth and glory.”
“So you believe, then?”
Daniel clenched his hand. “Unwillingly. I would rather not believe. But I am afraid to go to the mountain and wait for the sun to go down. I am afraid of what will happen to my wife and baby when the world is destroyed.”
Gabriel glanced around the plush tent, trying to remember who Daniel’s wife was. Ah yes, the colorless Lady Mary, at whose wedding he had discovered his own bride … Then the child must still be in the womb, and the mother had not had the strength to make this arduous journey. “How many of your father’s people have gone with him to the mountain?”
“Enough,” said Daniel bitterly. “Enough so that if Raphael does speak truth and the god does not act, I am disgraced and ridiculed forever. But I—” He shook his head. “I cannot go.”
“I cannot go, either,” Gabriel said softly. “And I would not if I could. Those of us who remain behind will have a greatly changed world to attend to after the thunderbolt does its damage.”
The young man raised his eyes to the angel’s. “It will fall, then?”
“It will fall.”
Rachel had arrived with her escort several hours before Gabriel was free to seek her out. He had met again with the oracles and the other angels, discussing what else they could do that they had left undone. They could think of nothing. All of them were obsessed with thoughts of the morrow, the day of the Gloria, the day which this year would pass in silence.
The day which would end, one way or another, in disaster.
It was sunset before Gabriel made his way to the Chieven campsite on the outskirts of the big Edori conglomeration. Rachel was adding wood to the fire. Naomi was cutting up food for a cauldron, and Luke was working behind the tent canvas, rearranging spikes and guys.
Naomi saw him first and smiled. “Have you come to have dinner with us, angelo?” she asked gaily. But her eyes warned him. He nodded at her briefly.
“I came to inquire after your journey,” he said. “You made good time.”
The Edori woman laughed. Rachel had straightened quickly at Naomi’s hail, and now she stood uncertainly, listening to the light tone of their talk. Plainly she did not like it. “We did not dare to be late,” Naomi said. “Not with the angelica in our charge.”
“I thank you for bringing her safely to me,” Gabriel said quietly.
“And you will eat with us? Luke used to say I was the worst cook of the Chievens, but I have greatly improved, I assure you. And Rachel has made two dishes that are delicious. There is no end to her talents.”
“As I constantly learn,” he said. “Yes, thank you. I’ll be glad to join you for the evening meal.”
Rachel could stand it no longer. “Gabriel, we’ve heard strange things since we arrived,” she said. “They say that Raphael has taken shelter on the Galo mountain and that there will be no Gloria sung tomorrow—”
“All true,” he said. He could not resist adding maliciously, “So you need not have hurried quite so fast to get here.”
She shook her head impatiently. Her hair was gold in the firelight. He remembered the silken feel of it against his arms, against his chest. “Gabriel! So what happens tomorrow?”
If you had been here, you would have heard this whole discussion as it occurred, he wanted to say. “Tomorrow we wait,” he said gravely. “At sundown, the god strikes or does not strike, as he chooses. And then we either acknowledge Raphael as our leader—or we try to pin the world back in place. Tonight there is nothing I can do about any of it.”
Luke came around the tent corner hauling a carved stump of wood. “Don’t see how you can sit on the ground with those wings,” he said doubtfully. “So you might try this—but it won’t hold you much higher. One way or the other, you won’t be so comfortable.”
“Nonsense, I can sit on the ground and spread my wings behind me,” Gabriel said pleasantly. “I have done it before. Where would you like me to sit?”
“We’re not quite ready yet,” Naomi said. “In a minute.”
The girls came giggling out of the tent just then, half shy and half flirtatious, and made quick curtseys to him upon their mother’s command. Naomi handed him a plate and a fork, Luke explained to him the construction of the tent, the girls joined in the conversation at intervals. One of them actually tugged at his hand once to get his attention when their father had talked too long. He smiled down at her, grinned at Naomi, listened courteously to Luke.
All this time, Rachel did not say a word. She was furious, he knew, that he would come to this place, invade her haven, charm her friends, leaving her no place to run that he could not follow. It was as much Naomi’s doing as his own, and Rachel would realize that, too. Well, let her rage. He was here, he would stay, he would make it very clear that there was no place on Samaria she could run where he could not retrieve her. He had found her in Semorrah, he had found her at Windy Point, he had found her with the Edori. When would she learn? He was behind her at every turn.
“Dinner,” Naomi said, and they sat down in a haphazard circle a few feet from the fire. Gabriel waited until Rachel had taken her place and then settled down beside her. He swept his great wings carefully behind him, yet there was no way to keep them completely out of the way. One of them settled lightly over Rachel’s shoulders; he felt her involuntary start, though she did not, as he half expected, leap to her feet and move elsewhere. Naomi’s youngest daughter sat on his other side, glancing behind her at the white feathered wall so close to her shoulder. He smiled down at her. She smiled happily back.
“Will you sing, angelo?” Luke asked.
Gabriel shook his head. “I am a guest here. Please, you pray.”
He intercepted Naomi’s glance at Rachel, but Rachel shook her head. So, none of the famed duets, not tonight, not for him. Naomi sang instead, a quick sweet Edori prayer of thanksgiving. He listened appreciatively.
“I hope yours will be one of the voices raised to Jovah when the Gloria is finally sung,” he said, when the prayer was over and they had begun to pass the food.
“She not only sings, she writes songs,” Luke said.
“Really? I would like to hear some.”
“You just heard one.”
Naomi appeared to be blushing. “Oh, hush, Luke,” she said. “I will sing, gladly, but when will the Gloria be held? If not tomorrow—”
“According to the Librera, we have three days,” Gabriel said. “And then the bolt falls again.”
“So—the day after tomorrow—”
“Or the day after that. If the mountain really is destroyed, I foresee at least a day of turmoil and mayhem. That will take some calming before people are ready to lift their voices in prayer.”
“What will you sing?”
Gabriel indicated his wife with a slight motion of his head. “That is up to the angelica.”
Naomi addressed her friend directly. “Raheli? Have you decided?”
Rachel’s voice wa
s so low it was almost inaudible. “No.”
Naomi was laughing. “Well, have you practiced? Do you have any ideas?”
“I’ve practiced,” Rachel said, still in that quiet voice. “I will know what to sing when the time comes.”
It was not the most relaxed meal Gabriel had ever had in his life, and yet he was strangely comfortable and loath to leave when it was over. As soon as the last child laid her fork down, Rachel was on her feet, gathering plates and taking them to the water bucket for washing.
“You girls help Raheli with the dishes,” Naomi directed. “Luke, could you add more wood to the fire? It will be a cool night.”
When the others had left them, Gabriel and Naomi sat face to face in the dark. The others were close enough to overhear, so they talked very softly. “She says she is staying in our tent till it is time for the singing,” Naomi said. “I know she should be with you—”
“There is a place set up for her in my pavilion,” he replied. “Perhaps she will choose to use it in a day or so.” He smiled briefly. “It’s a little crowded here.”
Naomi laughed. “The Edori like it crowded.”
“Tomorrow as the sun begins to set, we will gather and watch the top of the mountain. Bring her with you and wait with us. We should all be together when the god makes his will known.”
Naomi rose to her feet with her usual sturdy grace. “I’m glad you came to us tonight,” she said. “She would have been so hurt if you had not.”
“Yes,” he said, also rising. “I think I am at last beginning to understand her.”
“It’s not very hard,” Naomi said. “She’s afraid to want anything because everything she’s ever loved has been taken away.”
“And she would rather show anger than fear.”
“Yes,” said Naomi. “And those are the keys to Rachel.”