"There he is! Look!" Miriam whispered to Deborah, nudging her sister in the shoulder; the dark girl smiled. The opening mass had been spectacular, as always, but Deborah's favorite part of the Gloria was hearing her father's deep, velvet-rich voice raised in song. She strained her eyes for a moment in the late morning sun to watch as the angel Jonathan ascended to the dais; he was not an imposing figure, with his small stature and insubstantial appearance, but his silver-gilt hair identified him to everyone present more than the bracelets at his wrists ever could have.
"The earth is Jovah's and everything in it..." He began so softly that everyone dropped their voices to silence in order to hear.
"...the world, and all who live in it;
for he founded it upon the seas
and established it upon the waters.
Who may ascend the hill of Jovah?
Who may stand in his holy place?
He who has clean hands and a pure heart...
He will receive blessing from Jovah.
Such is the generation of those who seek him.
Lift up your heads, O you gates,
be lifted up, you ancient doors,
that the glory of Jovah may come in..."
Deborah sighed, closed her eyes, and was content. There was something about that mellow, dark voice that always managed to soothe the worst of her worries and grant her a few moments of peace and divine blessing. Perhaps she felt this way because Jonathan's voice was one which was said to please Jovah the most; perhaps she simply remembered it as the voice which has always nurtured her, praised her, chided her, comforted her, the voice which had spoken kind words to her when the most anyone else could give was pitying silence. Deborah knew that she was uncommonly lucky to have the angel Jonathan as her father—in the angel holds, few of the winged men and women lavished such attention upon their mortal children; in fact, there was an alarming trend among the young male angels to simply abandon mother both if the infant came out wingless. But Jonathan had loved her indiscriminately, sharing his love with her and her two angelic siblings, Miriam and Jude. Deborah liked to think that, as Jonathan's single human child, she had a special bond with her father; she had noticed at a young age, while resting her head upon his knee, that he had a habit of watching his two angelic children with an odd, sad gaze, then sighing and reaching down to stroke her rich, dark hair.
"Why do you look so sad, father?" she would ask, and he would answer, "It's nothing, dearheart." He had always reserved the name 'dearheart' for her, and she had been content with that.
Deborah opened her eyes when her father's song concluded as softly as it had begun, then smiled and applauded with everyone else. She felt another nudge at her side, and looked to Miriam; the younger girl pushed back her curtain of lush chestnut hair, and said, "I'm going to find Jude—we're doing a duet after the next two singers." Deborah nodded, and waved her younger sister away, then paused a minute before wading into the crowd to find her father.
*****
An unwelcome hand placed upon one furled wing alerted Jonathan to Levi's presence; he twitched the pinion away as he turned to greet the oracle. "Splendid performance, as always," the old, white-haired man said, his smile baring crooked teeth. "You're one of the lucky ones Jonathan; many of the other first angels have worn their voices down already, but yours remains as clear and strong as ever... you have a great deal to be proud of."
"Thank you," the silver-haired angel said, offering a chair to the stooped oracle. Levi lowered himself stiffly, then rearranged the folds of his robe. "I fear we're neither of us as young as we once were," he chuckled.
"No," Jonathan answered. "We're not."
The oracle nodded, chaffing his hands to warm them. "How are your children then?" he inquired of the angel. "I seem to recall that your daughter's birthday is sometime this month, no?"
"Deborah?" Jonathan frowned.
"No, no...Miriam. She'll be 20, won't she?"
The angel nodded, understanding. "Yes."
Levi nodded again, pleased. "I see...and has she got her eye on some young man yet? She's well old enough."
"I'm not sure. Her affections seem to change from week to week."
"Hmm." The oracle wheezed his amusement. "But speaking of Deborah...I'm surprised that she isn't married yet, especially with as many unwed young angels as there are around Monteverde..."
Jonathan shrugged, feeling slightly more uncomfortable than before. "Deborah's choosy," he said, "and has every right to be. There are any number of Monteverde folk I would object to as sons-in-law, both human and angelic."
Levi made a little sound. "Oh, she's got to marry an angel, there's no question about that."
"What?" The silver-haired angel's frown deepened, and he felt his wings lifting in alarm.
"Well she's your daughter," the oracle said. "She's got angelic blood in her, even if she doesn't have the wings. If she marries an angel there's a good chance that she'll bear angel children."
The angel's agate-gray eyes narrows, and his hard face came close to Levi's. "Are you suggesting that I should breed my daughter?"
"Jonathan, Jonathan! Nothing so cold as that for your daughter...but I am sure that it will be the god's wish. It has been so with the sons and daughters of all your peers. And there are so few angels in the world as it is..."
"Enough," Jonathan answered coldly, turning away. "If I had known what fate lay in store for my children, all those years ago, I would have refused my wings."
The oracle goggled. "Refused your wings? You would have refused Jovah's command? You would have refused the sanctity and glory of your station? Are you mad?"
The angel touched a finger to one slate-colored feather, and felt a coldness turn his stomach. "I do not know what Jovah's will is," he said slowly. "I never have. I accepted these wings on the belief that it would make the world better...but I cannot believe that the god intends for us to be bred like animals...to twist and bend our lives only so that there will be more angels in Samaria."
Levi frowned a little. "Why Jonathan, I never knew you for a doubting soul! You, one of the angels, one of the elect." He shook his head. "Come with me back to Mount Sudan...there I will speak with the god through the interface, and dispel your fears."
Jonathan was silent for a moment; then he nodded once, grimly.
"The earth is Jovah's and everything in it..." He began so softly that everyone dropped their voices to silence in order to hear.
"...the world, and all who live in it;
for he founded it upon the seas
and established it upon the waters.
Who may ascend the hill of Jovah?
Who may stand in his holy place?
He who has clean hands and a pure heart...
He will receive blessing from Jovah.
Such is the generation of those who seek him.
Lift up your heads, O you gates,
be lifted up, you ancient doors,
that the glory of Jovah may come in..."
Deborah sighed, closed her eyes, and was content. There was something about that mellow, dark voice that always managed to soothe the worst of her worries and grant her a few moments of peace and divine blessing. Perhaps she felt this way because Jonathan's voice was one which was said to please Jovah the most; perhaps she simply remembered it as the voice which has always nurtured her, praised her, chided her, comforted her, the voice which had spoken kind words to her when the most anyone else could give was pitying silence. Deborah knew that she was uncommonly lucky to have the angel Jonathan as her father—in the angel holds, few of the winged men and women lavished such attention upon their mortal children; in fact, there was an alarming trend among the young male angels to simply abandon mother both if the infant came out wingless. But Jonathan had loved her indiscriminately, sharing his love with her and her two angelic siblings, Miriam and Jude. Deborah liked to think that, as Jonathan's single human child, she had a special bond with her father; she had noticed at a young age, while resting her head upon his knee, that he had a habit of watching his two angelic children with an odd, sad gaze, then sighing and reaching down to stroke her rich, dark hair.
"Why do you look so sad, father?" she would ask, and he would answer, "It's nothing, dearheart." He had always reserved the name 'dearheart' for her, and she had been content with that.
Deborah opened her eyes when her father's song concluded as softly as it had begun, then smiled and applauded with everyone else. She felt another nudge at her side, and looked to Miriam; the younger girl pushed back her curtain of lush chestnut hair, and said, "I'm going to find Jude—we're doing a duet after the next two singers." Deborah nodded, and waved her younger sister away, then paused a minute before wading into the crowd to find her father.
*****
An unwelcome hand placed upon one furled wing alerted Jonathan to Levi's presence; he twitched the pinion away as he turned to greet the oracle. "Splendid performance, as always," the old, white-haired man said, his smile baring crooked teeth. "You're one of the lucky ones Jonathan; many of the other first angels have worn their voices down already, but yours remains as clear and strong as ever... you have a great deal to be proud of."
"Thank you," the silver-haired angel said, offering a chair to the stooped oracle. Levi lowered himself stiffly, then rearranged the folds of his robe. "I fear we're neither of us as young as we once were," he chuckled.
"No," Jonathan answered. "We're not."
The oracle nodded, chaffing his hands to warm them. "How are your children then?" he inquired of the angel. "I seem to recall that your daughter's birthday is sometime this month, no?"
"Deborah?" Jonathan frowned.
"No, no...Miriam. She'll be 20, won't she?"
The angel nodded, understanding. "Yes."
Levi nodded again, pleased. "I see...and has she got her eye on some young man yet? She's well old enough."
"I'm not sure. Her affections seem to change from week to week."
"Hmm." The oracle wheezed his amusement. "But speaking of Deborah...I'm surprised that she isn't married yet, especially with as many unwed young angels as there are around Monteverde..."
Jonathan shrugged, feeling slightly more uncomfortable than before. "Deborah's choosy," he said, "and has every right to be. There are any number of Monteverde folk I would object to as sons-in-law, both human and angelic."
Levi made a little sound. "Oh, she's got to marry an angel, there's no question about that."
"What?" The silver-haired angel's frown deepened, and he felt his wings lifting in alarm.
"Well she's your daughter," the oracle said. "She's got angelic blood in her, even if she doesn't have the wings. If she marries an angel there's a good chance that she'll bear angel children."
The angel's agate-gray eyes narrows, and his hard face came close to Levi's. "Are you suggesting that I should breed my daughter?"
"Jonathan, Jonathan! Nothing so cold as that for your daughter...but I am sure that it will be the god's wish. It has been so with the sons and daughters of all your peers. And there are so few angels in the world as it is..."
"Enough," Jonathan answered coldly, turning away. "If I had known what fate lay in store for my children, all those years ago, I would have refused my wings."
The oracle goggled. "Refused your wings? You would have refused Jovah's command? You would have refused the sanctity and glory of your station? Are you mad?"
The angel touched a finger to one slate-colored feather, and felt a coldness turn his stomach. "I do not know what Jovah's will is," he said slowly. "I never have. I accepted these wings on the belief that it would make the world better...but I cannot believe that the god intends for us to be bred like animals...to twist and bend our lives only so that there will be more angels in Samaria."
Levi frowned a little. "Why Jonathan, I never knew you for a doubting soul! You, one of the angels, one of the elect." He shook his head. "Come with me back to Mount Sudan...there I will speak with the god through the interface, and dispel your fears."
Jonathan was silent for a moment; then he nodded once, grimly.
