Free Angel-Seeker by Sharon Shinn Page A

leaving the city before nightfall tomorrow.”
    â€œI knew that an angel could not match ale pots with a Jansai,” Uriah said in satisfaction. “But you made a brave try! And I like you for it.”
    â€œThank you,” Obadiah said. “I was hoping you would like me for something.”
    â€œMichael!” Uriah roared, and one of the drunken companions stumbled to his feet. “Escort the angelo back to his hotel. He is staying at the Desert Wind, near the viaduct.”
    â€œIt is not so far. I am certain I can find it on my own,” Obadiah said.
    â€œYou can, but if you are on your own, other things may find you first,” Uriah said, briefly serious in the middle of this hedonistic evening. “There are people here—other Jansai, I admit it, friends of mine, perhaps—who might not be so happy to see an angel in our midst. I would rather see you under safe escort than open you up to—hostilities—so late at night.”
    Obadiah could not credit the idea that he could be in any real danger, but he allowed Uriah the chance to prove himself a watchful host. “Thank you, friend,” he said soberly. “Your concern for me does me honor.”
    Michael, when he came weaving up to Obadiah’s side, did not look prepared to fend off any Jansai dissidents who might happen upon them during their walk to the hotel. He was short, stout, and almost too drunk to stand. But he tried to arrange his features into some semblance of ferocity. “Are you ready, angelo?” he growled. “Then let us go.”
    The night air was cool enough to be pleasant, and the streets empty enough to seem devoid of threat. Obadiah breathed deeply, glad to get away from the close confines of the tent and the overpowering scents of incense and alcohol. His companion paced beside him with his eyes trained on the cobblestone street, as if afraid to miss a gold coin left carelessly in the gutter.
    â€œI see no one bent on taking my life,” Obadiah said as the Desert Wind came into view around the corner. “You can part with me here.”
    Michael lifted his eyes to give Obadiah one quick, scorching look, then returned his gaze to the ground. “Every Jansai hates the angels,” he said in a gruff voice. “I do. Do not be so sure someone wouldn’t hurt you if he could. I would.”
    Obadiah shrugged, unimpressed. He had come to a halt and now faced his Jansai escort in the dimly lit street. “How do you think you could harm a man who can leap to the sky and fly away the minute you show him menace?”
    Moving more swiftly than Obadiah would have thought possible, Michael plunged a hand in his pocket and emerged with a knife, which he laid against Obadiah’s heart in one deft stroke. “I could run you through so fast you would not have time to take wing,” the Jansai muttered.
    Obadiah’s hand closed around the other man’s wrist with such power that Michael yelped. “Has no one ever told you,” Obadiah said coldly, “that angels have the strength of two or three men? I could break your arm with no real effort.”
    â€œDo it, then,” Michael panted. “You’ve broken us in every other way.”
    Obadiah released him and took a step backward. “The angels have done nothing to the Jansai but right a wrong the Jansai perpetrated on others,” he said rapidly. “You cannot think you will win our favor through threats of violence. The world has changed in these past two years. You must learn to live in it, or see your people disappear entirely.”
    â€œIf we disappear, all of Samaria will suffer.”
    We have suffered enough because of the Jansai; let us see how deep our suffering runs if they are gone, Obadiah thought. He did not voice the words. “The angels would like to see an end to suffering,” he said instead. “That is why I am here. You do your cause no good by attacking me. I