Free Angelica by Sharon Shinn Page A

choice surprised everyone, most of all Gaaron. She sang the opening line of the Davinsky Alleluia , which by rights was Gaaron’s solo, as the whole piece was written to show off a tenor voice. The other two murmured their approval, for this was a beloved piece among angels at the Eyrie, and they looked expectantly at Gaaron. He was watching Miriam. She nodded and abruptly shut her mouth, and he picked up the line without missing a beat.
    It was one of his favorite selections, a sunny and hopeful composition written as part of a celebratory mass. He felt his voice pour from his mouth, warm and rich and textured with pattern. His chest filled and emptied, filled and emptied, but he never felt breathless or drained; swirls of silk seemed to coil in his lungs and unroll. The music sounded so effortless it almost did not feel like it was coming from him. It seemed as though it was spontaneously generated by starlight and contentment and goodwill. The voices joining his in harmony supported him with an actual physical sensation; he felt their lift and buoyancy catch him at his knees and elbows and elevate him the barest millimeter off the floor.
    They were not completely through the Alleluia when Sela was fluttering her fingers, asking for the next turn. Gaaron motioned her to add harmony to what should have been his solo “amen,” and then he dropped his voice away so that she could begin the next piece. It would be their last one for the night; other singers had already arrived at the doorway, ready to take their places. Sela motioned them in and then launched into a much quieter but very pretty choral piece that sounded better with every voice added. They all sang along happily, modulating down from the ecstatic heights of the Alleluia . It was, Gaaron thought, about the best way anyone could hope to end a day.
    When the shift was ended, Ahio and Sela lingered, though Gaaron turned to go. He had a long flight ahead of him tomorrow, and he was still a little tired from last night’s midnight journey. He was somewhat surprised when Miriamchose to exit with him. He waited till they were out of range of the singers before speaking.
    â€œI enjoyed that a great deal,” he said. “Thank you for choosing the Alleluia .”
    All her animosity of the afternoon seemed to have melted away. She smiled at him in the flickering gaslight that lit all the corridors and open spaces of the Eyrie. “I like you best when you are singing,” she said. “And I wanted to like you for at least part of the day.”
    â€œWell, that’s encouraging,” he said. “I, of course, always like you, even when you’re driving me to lunacy.”
    â€œI hear you’re flying to southern Bethel tomorrow,” she said.
    â€œI suppose you got that from Nicholas.” Gaaron had thought for quite some time that his volatile sister and the erratic angel were destined to fall in love, since they were so similar in temperament and so obviously the worst possible partners for each other. But although the two had always been good friends, nothing warmer had ever developed between them. “You can come, if you like. We can hand you around between us when one of us gets tired of carrying you.”
    â€œNo, thank you,” she said prettily. “But if you hadn’t asked, I would have insisted on going.”
    He smiled in the semidark that shadowed the open plateau. “Let me know, sometime,” he remarked, “if I ever stumble upon the trick of handling you right. If I ever figure out even the smallest detail.”
    She laughed at that and slipped into the corridor ahead of him. “You’re the best brother ever,” she said over her shoulder, “which makes me have to be the worst sister ever. I don’t see why you can’t understand that.”
    â€œDo you want me to bring you anything back from southern Bethel?” he asked.
    She snorted. “Is there anything