Lying on the ill-fitting bed at Mount Sudan, the angel Jonathan turned over and over again fitfully. It wasn't just that the bed had been designed with wingless bodies in mind; the trials and worries of the day were heavy on his mind. He and Levi had put any number of questions to Jovah, and as always, the god's answers had been cryptic at best. What am I doing? What direction is this world going? Jonathan asked himself, turning onto his stomach to alleviate some of his discomfort. He remembered being in this position only once before, when he had been very young, and half-drugged. It had been at Mount Sinai, in Bethel; he remembered surgeons and doctors and priests and oracles hovering around him, frowning and speaking unintelligible words; he had been the last angel they made that day, and they had been too tired to drug him properly. He remembered seeing a small, wicked knife being taken up by an anonymous hand, feeling something cold make a line down his numbed back, seeing the knife replaced on the tray. The first thing he remembered clearly was looking over his shoulder and seeing grotesque appendages jutting from his back, bald except for tiny pinfeathers, like the wings of a plucked fowl. He had been all of twenty years old.

Yet he had agreed to it. Admittedly, the priests and oracles had given him little choice, but he had given them his word on it. "You," they had said. "If not you, then who shall it be? There must be angels in the world! Someone must guide these wretched folk, and uphold Jovah's law. No, Jonathan, it must be you." Had it been a mistake? He thrust aside the blanket, and surged to his feet, tormented.

"Bad dreams, Jonathan?" In the doorway stood Hagar, the wife and angelica of the Archangel Uriel.

"Yes...yes, something of the sort," the silver-haired angel said, too surprised for formalities. "I didn't know you were here, angela."

"I came to ask Levi a few questions--or Jovah, rather--before Lucifer takes power tomorrow" she said, leaning against the doorframe. "I'm sorry to intrude, but you've been thrashing in here all night. And now that I'm here, I can hardly leave you so ill at ease." Hagar had been--and still was--a very striking woman. Her skin was brown and weathered from the years, but still taut over her sharp features. She wore her iron-gray hair long in a braid.

"You're very considerate to do so," Jonathan said slowly, still reeling.

"Come--what troubles you?" she invited.

He gave her a hard, long look. "Things of the past," he said after a moment. "And things of the present as well."

Hagar looked at him thoughtfully. "My time--and Uriel's--is done. Whatever his reasons, Jovah has chosen Lucifer to rule next. He went to see the Oracle Bathsheba in Gaza today, to seek his angelica's name. He will be Archangel before the month is out."

"I mislike it," Jonathan said. "He's an unknown--no one can guess what we'll have from him, what he'll do when he's in power. He's very secretive, that one. He's to become Archangel tomorrow, and we don't even know who his angelica will be--I don't think I would trust him to uphold the laws set forth in the Librera."

"There's little we can do, you know," Hagar said gently. "You keep your host at Monteverde, as Uriel and I keep ours at Bethel, and Lucifer won't be able to get out of control, whatever he's planning."

The silver-haired angel sighed, and sat back down on the bed, dove-colored wings sweeping behind him. "Hagar: when you look at your husband, or me, or any angel I suppose--what do you see?"

She looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"You knew me and Uriel before we had wings, before we were angels--what do you think of us now?"

"I thought of you as fine young men then, and I think of you as fine men now."

"Even with these?" He fingered a wingtip gently.

She sighed, realizing what exactly was bothering him, and came to sit beside him. "The priests and doctors didn't change you, Jonathan--only your body."

"Still, that's something, isn't it. I'm surprised no one has jumped up and called us all abominations yet. And we are--look at us; look at what we've done."

"Here you and I disagree, friend." Hagar looked away.

Jonathan self-consciously stroked a feather. "I can't help but think they made a terrible mistake when they made us." He shook his head. "The world's suffering for it, too. Just look at the travesty they've made of the bond between parent and child! If a child isn't born with wings, they just throw it out..."

Hagar rose from the bed, and smoothed out her robe. "You've been a good father to your three, Jonathan. I don't approve of the treatment of mortal children at the holds, and I've tried to curb it at Bethel--but surely you can understand why they do it? There are so few angels in the world; if there aren't enough, this entire world will fail. No one could intercede to prevent floods, droughts, plague..."

"It's a bad system, Hagar. Putting angels between the people and their god--it isn't right! They gave us wings, but they didn't give all of us good hearts."

The angelica straightened up slowly. "I've defended Uriel and Jovah all my life, Jonathan--this is the way the world will be. I'm sorry we can't come to an agreement." She turned and stalked from the room as silently as she had come.