Free Angelica by Sharon Shinn Page B

there worth bringing back?” she asked. “An interesting story, maybe. Bring that.”
    â€œI’ll see what I can do.”
    They walked along in a rare companionable silence till they reached the fork in the hallway that led to their separatechambers. “Night,” she said, but he stopped her with one big hand on her shoulder.
    â€œYou’re my heartache and my joy, and even if you hate me for it, I’ll watch out for you till I die,” he said quietly, and kissed her on the top of her head. She looked up at him, dark eyes shining in the gaslight, and he thought he could read the reply circling in her head. And as long as you feel you have to watch over me, I shall make your life hell.
    But she didn’t say it. “Good night, Gabriel Aaron,” she said instead. “Come see me when you get back.”
    They left shortly after breakfast, though that required Gaaron affecting deafness when a few people called his name as he left the dining room. Zibiah and Nicholas were already awaiting him on the plateau, Zibiah giggling in her foolish manner over something Nicholas had said. She was pretty in an unremarkable way, with short brown hair and lively green eyes, but it was really her animation that gave her any charm at all. She and Miriam were friends, of course; the less sober someone was, the more likely Miriam was to be drawn to that person.
    â€œReady?” Gaaron asked, though they clearly were. “Let’s go.”
    The flight to southern Bethel would take longer than the flight to Mount Sinai, particularly since Nicholas and Zibiah seemed inclined to dawdle along the way. Gaaron let them set the pace, knowing that few angels could attain the speed he could generate with his massive wings. They were not in a hurry, in any case. No rush to hear earnest, thoughtful farming folk tell an incredible story.
    They stopped once for lunch, and for Zibiah and Nicholas to trade insults, and then they were on their way again. Nicholas took the lead when they got close to the site he’d visited before, since there were a number of different farming settlements in this part of the country and Gaaron was not entirely sure which one had witnessed the miracle. Finally, almost six hours after they’d set out, Nicholas folded his wings and made a precipitous descent toward a cluster of buildings that appeared to comprise a farmhouse, a silo, and a few other necessary structures. Zibiah promptly imitatedhim, neither of them unfurling their wings till they were so close to the ground it could have been deadly. Gaaron followed at a more sane and leisurely pace.
    Two men and a woman had already gathered in front of the farmhouse by the time Gaaron touched down. He saw both farmers tilt their heads back and try to judge his height, a thing other big men always did when they found themselves confronted with someone even bigger. They were weather-beaten and sunburned, so their ages were hard to tell, but Gaaron guessed them to be father and son by the similarity of their broad faces and ruddy hair. The woman standing beside them, smiling in a somewhat bemused fashion as if she did not often entertain angels, was probably the wife and mother.
    â€œHi there, you remember me,” Nicholas said with his usual careless charm. “This is Zibiah, she’s from the Eyrie, too. And this is Gaaron.”
    The name confused them; it was not how he was formally known. “I’m Gabriel,” he corrected Nicholas, shaking the woman’s hand, then the older man’s, then the son’s. “They call me Gaaron. I hear you have an interesting story to tell.”
    And it was interesting, but there was not much more to learn than Gaaron had gleaned from Nicholas’ recital. The farm-wife insisted on serving them refreshments before they tramped out into the field to see the exact spot where the man had first appeared and then disappeared. Angels hated to walk, and Gaaron could see