Chapter Text
I'm still surprised that what takes the most adjustment is the auditory shift.
Hell is full of noise, except for where an effort has been made to keep things quiet. Demons and damned souls and proto-demons alike create a babble of anger and pain and pleading. Where machinery works, gears grind and clash. When you enter a silent area, the silence is designed to make you nervous, to wonder who's keeping things quiet.
Heaven, in comparison, is easy on the ears.
I leave the door to my office open because there's no harm in doing so. In the hallway two relievers are chattering, quietly because they don't want to bother anyone, but with enough enthusiasm that I can make out bits of the conversation. One is working as lab assistant on a project, and the other wants to know if there's an opening. Further down the hall a clatter of wooden chimes announces that the Seraph whose name I haven't caught yet has opened the door to her office.
I need to see about getting the latest iteration of music-producing device up here, and find a copy of Ride of the Valkyries. I used to play it to drive a Balseraph coworker up the wall; after a few months of that stimulus/result combination, hearing it puts me into a planning mood.
The analysis done, I snap my notebook shut. Computers may be useful in their own way, but there's nothing like paper for real work. The two relievers spring up as I step outside, and the one who was asking about finding a position flutters over hopefully.
I may not be the best for appreciating creatures on an aesthetic level, but relievers are far more pleasant to look at than any of the demonlings I used as lab assistants back in Hell. "Need help with a delivery?" it asks, sparks running along the edges of its butterfly wings.
"If you wouldn't mind." I know civility from a dozen different Roles, a way to fit in better, get what you want out of people, give them what they Need. Here's it's just...civility. A default position. I hand it the report I've written, the handwriting embarrassingly clumsy as I'm still learning the symbols for the language of Heaven. "If you'd take these to Gariel for me--"
"Right on it!"
"Ofanite in training?" I ask, and the other reliever nods. I've finished the last report asked of me, and I don't have anything scheduled for three more hours. "Do you know of any place nearby that serves good coffee?"
Ten minutes later I've followed its directions out of the Halls of Progress to a place where I can see the Bazaar. This is the first chance I've had to get out and explore, and I don't intend to go far. If Hell was a vast place, Heaven is even larger, and less familiar.
They've given me wings, somehow. I'd never heard about getting wings. Gravity is a personal choice here, and if I wanted to I could spread these out, electric blue fractals stretching on either side of me like an electrical current made solid, and fly to where I'm going... But I'm not ready for that. Walking is good enough.
The cafe I've been directed to isn't the largest, but it is on the edge of the bazaar, something I appreciate. I'm not prepared to walk through crowds of souls and celestials, even if everyone here is...blessed, or what not. Too many hints of Shal-Mari, to me. I can picture one of my Sisters up here, trading favors and Geases for others, trying to drive a deal that will bring her a little closer to freedom from debt.
You never get entirely out of debt. It's not how the universe works.
There's a Seraph behind the counter in the cafe, six bright eyes showing how much caffeine is running through his system. Kai would adore this place. "One Essence for the first cup," he says, "but refills are free for as long as you stay. We have over sixty varieties of coffee, plus several personal blends. What would you like to try?"
I'd like to try a little peace of mind. But I don't think they serve that here. "Whatever you'd recommend," I say, and the Seraph is happy to explain why his final selection is something I'll enjoy.
There's a group of Malakim in one corner, so I head for a couch in the opposite corner, set my coffee down on the side table, pull out a notebook. As personal projects go it's nothing grand, but it's my own to work on. I've figured out how to cut the energy intake down to a reasonable level, the sort of thing you could plug into a standard wall outlet, but the acoustics are tricky. I may have to find someone who knows more about the science of music to resolve the corner cases on this thing.
A reliever refills my cup the instant I set it down empty. "He said you might like to try this blend too," it explains, and the new coffee is sharper than before. "Let me know which you prefer!"
Someone who's just met me wants to make me happy. Even though I've already paid. What a strange place this is.
The Mercurian and Cherub in the center of the room argue about free will, and their debate grows loud enough for me to make out tones that are bordering on surly. Theology has never interested me, so I tune them out and go back to working on my project, but the numbers aren't adding up. I'm definitely going to need help from someone who knows acoustics. I knew them better once, but there are...gaps. Little holes in my memory that weren't there before, frayed edges on my skills where I come to something I knew how to do and find I no longer remember how.
It would have felt like cheating, somehow, if redemption hadn't taken something from me. But the loss of that Force hurts, a different sort of ache from when I'd had Forces shredded from me before. Entire years gone missing, though none that I think were very interesting. Things I used to be able to do better.
I'll adjust. I have before.
I pull out the phone they gave me. Compact, silver, and a tiny lightning bolt embedded on the back in blue; someone who put it together had a sense of humor. I'm told this will patch through a central relaying station back on Earth, and let me call anywhere in the world, though they cautioned me about hold times in trying to call long-distance to certain countries. But all I need to get to is Arizona, and this ought to suffice.
Everything has been busy since I got here, with no time to call. Angels of Lightning to work with, others to explain stolen plans to, and regular meetings with Judgment to determine that I'm in no danger of backsliding. I'm not sure how I could backslide; I have no intention of calling in any Geases here in Heaven, and there's no way for me to violate the dissonance conditions of Lightning so long as I'm here. I don't like Judgment; they remind me too much of the Game. But it's in my best interest to cooperate, even if they keep looking at me like I'm about to run back to Earth if not supervised.
Kai would say that they were concerned for me, and doing their best to help. I could use a touch of that attitude before my next meeting. We're supposed to discuss a project I worked on before, and it will be...uncomfortable. To explain everything involved in that project.
The phone rings on the other end seven times, and finally voicemail picks up. It's only the default greeting; I wouldn't be surprised if he never figured out how to check messages or change the greeting.
I check my watch, kept matched with Arizona time. Three in the morning where he is, and he's not at home? But he has other friends, and other things to work on. For all I know he's out somewhere convincing a Balseraph of the error of his ways, or hugging strippers who used to be his students. No doubt when he called the Tether I'd been staying at, they told him everything had gone well, and not to worry.
The third cup of coffee is the best.
Another day of meetings and projects and assignments, the first meeting less painful than I expected. Time blurs together here unless I check my watch. Back in Tartarus there were giant clocks set up in the laboratories, and then later bright red LEDs, displaying a countdown to deadline. Inspiring, in their own way, when trying to come up with something, anything that could be conceivably presented as a result. A Seraph of Judgment stops by to ask me more questions about former activities, future plans, the likelihood of my acquiring any dissonance. Politely-worded questions to figure out if I intend to contact former colleagues. No, a thousand times no: I loathed nearly everyone I ever had to work with, nothing but incompetents and competition, each worse than the other. It irritates me that they'd ask. Surely they've dealt with redemption cases before. Did anyone in Vapula's organization like anyone else? If so, I never saw it. Every other demon was someone who could screw you over, whether by accident or design.
I call again, and it's still the voicemail. I have bad timing; I'll blame the loss of a Force and keep trying later. But it's time for another meeting, this one on a project I never interacted with directly, heard about only from others. But every trace of information I can provide, flawed or not, is something they can use.
At least I'm being useful.
Another day. Another visit from Judgment. I ask the Elohite they've sent if they keep such close tabs on every newly-redeemed angel, and he politely steps around the question. I don't know why they're so worried; I'm safely in Heaven surrounded by a thousand good influences, working on projects assigned to me by an Archangel. My immediate supervisor says I'm doing excellent work, especially considering the gaps in my skills. You'd think they'd have better things to do with their time.
Yet another analysis of stolen schematics finished, and I've nearly gone stiff from hunching over my desk, if such a thing is possible in this form. I stretch, and my wings spread out until they touch the walls, sending up sparks where they meet. I may never get used to having these on my back, but I could grow to enjoy them. They give me a certain sense of... I don't know how to name it. I'd call it belonging, but I haven't seen another redeemed Lilim yet. But they mean I'm something different than I used to be.
Far more useful than horns.
It's six in the morning where Kai lives. Even a night of demon-hunting or partying should send him home by now. But I only get voicemail again, which...does bother me. Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, three times is enemy action.
And if Jack's dragged poor little Kai off into some other wild scheme, just when the kid's finally had a chance to settle back into his assigned routine, I am going to...well. Not hurt him. Have stern words with him, at least. Assuming I could find him.
Windies aren't the sort to ask after the whereabouts of someone. The one Seraph of Lightning that I know Kai is friends with is stationed on Earth, and I don't have his phone number. There's that one Kyriotate who was another redemption case--but, no, it wouldn't be keeping close contact from halfway across the state.
I do know who would be keeping track of Kai, though, so I let my supervisor know I need to take an hour or two for a personal matter, and trudge on over to the Celestial Tribunal. Not my idea of a pleasant way to spend a few hours, but it's the most likely place to find who I need.
A Malakite at one of the entrances nods to me, more politely than I'd expected. "How may I help you, Gifter?"
"...er?"
His expression changes to something near embarrassment. "It's the proper term, isn't it? I asked before I was assigned to this position, just in case. Hadn't had a chance to use it before, though, so it's possible I got it wrong." And his lips start moving as he reviews the titles in his head.
"...ah! No, I'm...sure that's the correct title." Gifter. What a strange name. I don't have anything to give these days except my skills, but I'm doing what I can. He looks as if he's about to apologize again, and I don't want to be stuck here all day reassuring what seems to be a young Malakite. "I'm looking for someone, if you could help me find--well, any of three people, though they're likely to be together. A triad of Judgment, so this seemed the best place to look."
"Ah. Certainly! I shouldn't leave my post, but I can point you towards where they might be. Do you know their names?"
"Dedan, Adala, and..." I can't remember the third name. It makes me want to howl, sometimes, when I find recent things have slipped. I could lose most of the eighteenth century without minding much, but I don't want to lose anything of the time I spent running from the Game. Too many things that mattered happened then. "I'm afraid I've forgotten the third, but he was a Malakite."
"I don't know them myself, but if you go on to the information desk inside, they'd be able to help you there."
"Thank you."
"It's my pleasure to serve."
He really means it. That's what keeps throwing me off here; when people say things like "thank you" or "you're welcome" or even "excuse me", they honestly mean it.
A Seraph at the information desk, coiling over smooth marble floors. She blinks two sets of eyes as I approach. "May I assist you?"
"Yes. I'm looking for a triad, or any of the members of it. Adala, Dedan, and a third whose name I don't recall, a Malakite. Could you tell me where I might find them?"
"The reason for your request?"
I don't think this one would settle for "It's personal," much as I'd prefer to give that answer. "I'm looking for a friend, and I think they would know where he is."
"The details of triad investigations are confidential. Do you have proper authorization?"
"He isn't--I'm not trying to find out information about any investigations. I just want to know if he's in trouble." Which doesn't convey what I mean at all. It's so much easier to be direct when one can be rude. "I mean, I'm concerned for him, and I'm hoping they would be able to tell me if he's safe."
"All information about triad investigations is confidential. Do you have--"
"No, I just..." A quick breath to settle my nerves. Judgment jangles me badly enough when they're being reasonable, but it'll do me no good to lose my temper and make a scene here. "If I wanted to leave a question for them, that they could answer at their discretion, how would I go about doing so?"
"If you leave a message here, it will be forwarded to the appropriate parties in due time."
I can only hope that "in due time" doesn't involve tossing the note into a wastebasket and trusting the will of God to pull it out and deliver it, should it be important. I scribble out a note with the two names I know, doing my best to remain...polite. I am asking them for information they're not obliged to give me.
Zif is waiting for me in the office, examining the papers still spread across my desk. In celestial form she's a quagga with striped wings, as even-faced as in her vessel. They've been extinct for over a century now, gone the way of all the species that managed to be useful enough to humanity to be used up, and not useful enough to be preserved. She sets aside a sheet of paper. "Wouldn't it be more efficient to keep your notes on a computer?"
"I'm more comfortable with paper. I find it easier to organize my thoughts when I have something to hold."
She finds it an acceptable answer, and moves aside. "You seem troubled."
"You're sure you're not an Elohite with an unusual furry exterior?"
"Quite."
"Ah. That settles that question, then." The office chair they gave me is standard issue, ergonomically designed and quite comfortable. I sit down and fold my hands on my lap. "What brings you here today?"
"I've come to see how you're doing. You've gone through the most extreme change possible to any celestial being, complete with a shift in environment, working conditions, and surrounding people. Even positive changes can be stressful. How are you holding up?"
"Better than I'd feared. Worse than I'd hoped." I feel as if I ought to be lying down on a couch for conversations like this. "Is that sufficiently vague, or shall I avoid the question in more detail?"
She actually smiles, though it's a small twitch of the lips. "No, that provides me with enough information to work with. What's troubling you currently? Have you encountered hostility when moving in areas outside the Halls of Progress?"
"Not noticeably." A few pointed looks, the occasional icy tone over someone's response to my questions. I could wish for a more welcoming reception, but I have no reason to expect one, and the people I work with directly are pleasant enough, if occasionally hesitant to give me the details I want. After needing to invoke Geases just to get a straight answer and minimal cooperation from people I was supposed to be coordinating with, this is hardly something to complain about. "I am concerned for Kai, though. He hasn't answered his phone the last three times I've called. Have you heard from him back at the Tether?"
"Only once, when we passed on the news that you had redeemed. He has no reason to call us now that you're no longer living there." One ear folds itself back on her head, body language I can't properly read. "This could be cause for concern, or it could only be the sign of a Servitor of Eli who finds himself easily distracted by other goals. If it would ease your mind, I will ask someone who lives nearby to look into the matter."
"I'd appreciate that." I would pay for that, though I haven't much to pay with these days. "I worry that someone from the Game will hold a grudge. Especially those who were, ah, covered in toffee."
"I was informed of that," she says. "Hardly the most efficient way to deal with hostilities, but appropriate for the Word."
I thought it was dreadfully funny, once I stopped being terrified about someone else running around in my friend's vessel. "Was there anything else you wanted to discuss?"
"No," she says. "Thank you for the time."
"My pleasure."
She leaves the door open on the way out, but no one else steps in to bother me until I'm nearly finished with a tricky bit of planning for a way to reduce the energy consumption of a prototype by at least fifty percent. Small items that require an entire generator on a cart for operation make for poor field test results.
The first sign of a new person in the office is when I'm caught up in the embrace of someone several centimeters shorter than I am, humanoid with a silver aura and glittering golden wings. I'm not used to being hugged by strangers, and it takes a moment for me to shift my thought processes from power management to complete confusion.
"It is so good to finally meet you!" She lets go of me, takes a step back, looks me up and down. "Nice, very nice. Can I see the wings?"
"...er?" It's a reasonable enough request, so I spread them out, and she claps her hands.
"Fractals! Sophie is going to love it, you know, she said a Sparky would end up with fractals or circuitry, and she was entirely right. I was betting on circuitry myself, but I suppose that's more an Elohim sort of mindset than Lilim, isn't it?" Another close hug. "Everyone is looking forward to meeting you. Come on!"
"...er?"
"The rest of the Choir." She drags me out of the office by one hand, and I see that her feet aren't bothering to touch the floor. "I know, there's not really enough of us to call a Choir as such, it's more like a reunion tour where half the members have already died off, but there's at least four of us getting together to welcome you to Heaven properly, five if Sadira has time to stop by. I wish someone had told me earlier, or we could have caught Delen before she went back to Earth. Plus there are some of us I've never met, and this would be a great excuse to call them in, if they'd answer email--"
"I'm working on--"
"Don't worry, I already checked with your supervisor before stopping by your office, and he said it was a marvelous idea, you can't spend all your time on work or your head will swell up with numbers and explode like a dandelion. Poof! So, even objectively speaking, this is a good idea."
It's not like I can argue with that.
I knew, in theory, that there were other Bright Lilim in Heaven. Both before and after redemption I was assured that this had been done successfully before, that I was not a unique case, that these things did, on rare occasions, happen. But I filed it away with things like the Higher Heavens, a plausible theory I didn't expect to see in practice. Now here's one dragging me along, bubbling in an excellent imitation of certain other Lilim I knew who wished to seem cute and non-threatening, but this is no imitation, only...the way she is.
I hope not all of them are quite this...perky.
"So. Ah. Who do you work for?" A safe enough question around here, where no one looks nervously over their shoulder before answering it.
"Marc, though I'm currently on loan to the Sword for a bit. What did you think of Laurence?" We're heading towards the Bazaar, unsurprisingly. She hasn't stopped smiling since I first saw her. Typical for Heaven, but unnerving on a Lilim, even a Bright one.
"I haven't met him yet."
"Really? That's a surprise. He usually wants to talk to all the Bright Lilim as soon as possible. He's so adorable."
"...adorable?" Not the first word I would have chosen to apply to the Commander of the Host, a Malakite and member of the War faction.
"Mm. Yes. The black feathers, and the way he talks, and he stands up so straight and, oh, you'll have to see it for yourself."
"I've been busy..."
She rolls her eyes at that, and pulls him closer with her arm hooked into mine until we're walking side by side. "Of course, you're working for Jean. Doesn't anyone over there ever stop to have fun?"
"Work /is/ fun." I have reasonable deadlines. Clear objectives. A supervisor who won't make me take a fall for his mistakes. What more could I ask for?
"Ha! You're a Sparky through and through. It's not something I would have imagined a Sister as, you know. Trade, Creation, Dreams, Flowers... but Lightning?"
"I...like electricity."
"Hey, don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled that you're fitting in so well there! Plenty of room for variation in all the Daughters, you know? It's just not what I would have suspected. And of course cooped up in your office none of us saw you to say hi, wouldn't have even known you were here if Lin hadn't heard it from a Judge she's been trying to flirt with lately. I think it's a lost cause, he's too wrapped up in his duty to even notice her attempts, but it can't hurt to try, right?"
Flirting with a Servitor of Judgment. The mind boggles. Well, my mind boggles; apparently she finds this normal behavior from a Bright Lilim. Not for the first time, it occurs to me that I don't fit into my Band--ah, Choir--dreadfully well. "I...suppose not, no."
"It's a little more crowded, further in," she says. "Oh! I completely forgot, sorry. I'm Daane. Have you chosen a new name yet? If you wanted to, that is, I know that some prefer to keep the name that Mother gave them."
"You can call me Mannie." I have no great love for the name I was given, but it seems inappropriate to toss it off without fanfare. Though I suppose redemption is fanfare enough... Still, I'll wait to change it until I've come up with something better.
"Let's fly the rest of the way," Daane says, and spreads her wings out, letting them catch the light in a thousand sparkles. "Now there's something I never get tired of. Come on!"
If my supervisor says this is a good idea, far be it from me to contradict him. But flying is...odd. I'm used to the stability of a solid floor beneath my feet, measured steps, and...wings. What am I supposed to do with wings?
This will take some getting used to.
I keep up a sedate pace for fear of doing something embarrassing; Daane flies ahead and around and beside me, giving me steady chatter on how nice it is to meet a new Bright. The way she refers to me makes me sound as if I'm a child, which would rankle if she didn't mean it so kindly. I suppose by angelic standards I'm barely more than a fledgling, and with less experience in the workings of Heaven than a reliever who's had a few decades to grow.
We end in a room tucked away inside Marc's Tower, one with a very large open window for easy access. Inside four other Brights, all...smiling. Five Lilim enjoying talking to each other, without the faintest hint of twisty scheming in sight. They even have tea. And cookies.
There's something surreal about all of this.
We land, Daane more neatly than I can manage, but at least I don't trip on the windowsill. "Practically had to drag him away from his work," she says, laughing. "But here he is. Everyone, meet Mannie. Mannie, meet...well, everyone. Oo! Are those chocolate chip?"
"Sadira," says one, and she hugs me. I can get used to this. Really. It will stop making me twitch...oh, the tenth or twelfth time it happens, probably. "Of Dreams, and very glad to see you." She runs a hand along one of my wings, and it twitches as I do. "So I was right. Lovely patterns, those. Very reminiscent of lightning. I hope they're treating you well over there?"
"Yes, just fine--" Another hug, another Bright Lilim.
"I'm Lin," she says, "Servitor of Novalis." A step back for another one of those appraising looks. "You should stop by the Glade some time. They'll work you to exhaustion over there if you let them."
"No, really, I quite enjoy my work." I'm almost prepared for the next hug, though it's an enthusiastic one that tries to squeeze the breath from me.
"The name's Cory, good to meet you, wings are lovely, so on and so forth, and why didn't anyone let us know you were here? Another week and I'd be down on Earth again no more the wiser. There ought to be, I don't know, a mailing list or something. Of course, I'm not sure who'd be responsible for administrating that." She's as tall as I am, with a nose like a hawk's. Not a fluffy sort, even if she is smiling as much as the rest. "But, hey, you're a Sparky, maybe you could set up something like that?"
"...maybe?"
The last Bright Lilim does not, to my relief, hug me. Instead she stands up and curtsies, holding a spiderweb skirt out...properly. I haven't seen a gesture that formal in decades. "Kavita," she says, "Bright Lilim of Creation, and happy to see you here." Her smile is more reserved than that of the others, and she sits down again afterwards, hands in her lap. "Currently in service to Trade, until..." She makes a small motion with her hand. "Tea?"
"Yes. Thank you." They've left me an open chair by the window; I take the unspoken invitation and sit down. "I, ah, didn't quite expect this sort of welcoming."
"Some angels don't understand," Daane says, "and it can be hard at first. There's no real context for you to work with, no well-known opposite number to have encountered before and remember... So we're here to give you what help we can."
"If any of the, well, more aggressive types start hassling you," says the one with butterfly wings, Lin, "let me know, and I'll see if I can help smooth things over? They don't mean harm by it, but some people have trouble working through old prejudices, or dealing with the unknown."
"And if they continue, I can smack them for you," says Cory brightly. "Oh, Lin, don't look at me like that, it's not like I would--okay, I'd speak sternly to them, is that better? Right. Well. Or challenge them to a duel, it's not like we don't have--fine! Talking! Only talking! Please don't start sniffling, it's embarrassing when you--I mean, I agreed, only talking. Really." She leans over to me and mutters, "It's so hard to deal with Flowerchildren."
"...ah?" I seem to have run out of useful words. So I have a cookie. And tea. Quite good tea. The teacups are shaped like individual flowers, more delicately done than anything of the like that I've seen on Earth or in Hell.
Naturally--or as naturally as anything can occur, when put in the context of six Bright Lilim sitting in a room with tea and cookies--the topic of conversation swings to redemption.
"It's like opening your eyes for the first time, when you never knew there was such a thing as sight," Daane says, and I recognize the gestures her hands make, the attempt to pull words out of the air to describe something that can't be pinned down. "I didn't expect to come out the other side, but..." She shakes her head. "I'm told I nearly didn't. I had one Celestial Force left on the other side, but it was worth it."
"It felt like it took forever," Lin says, and drops her gaze as she speaks. They're telling me things they wouldn't speak of to anyone else, though they've known me less than an hour, because I'm...one of them. How very strange. "I thought maybe this was what it was like, to...disassemble. All your Forces torn apart, and maybe it was that one last moment, forever, and I was stuck there in time for an eternity of that moment... And then the other side and it was...home. I'd never known about home until I was there."
Sadira shakes her head, and all she'll say is, "Waking up. Finally."
Cory grins at us. "If you've ever been caught up by a wave in the ocean, tumbled around until you don't know what way is up, dragged out to sea, and then finally a hand grabs you and you're pulled up into the air... " She takes a fast swig of her tea, and pours another cup. "Had to have some bad habits knocked out of me, I'll tell you that much, but he's a good teacher, he is..." She doesn't seem inclined to mention the name of her Superior, and everyone else knows. I won't ask. If she says Dominic I might have to run screaming, and that would be awkward.
Kavita, the Creationer, and I want to hear what she says. She smiles at us over the rim of her teacup, and turns it about in her hands. "I honestly believed I would die," she says. "I told him this, as I went in, and asked that if my Forces scattered, could he catch a few and make something else out of them? Something better than I had ever been, so that at least I could have come to some small use in my life. And he said to me, 'My child, if you come apart, I will put you back together as best I can.'" Another slow sip of tea. "When the Archangel who helped to form the Earth itself tells me that, how can I not believe him?"
"He's entirely convincing when he speaks," I say, and she nearly drops her cup.
"You've met him?"
"Yes, he..." I almost can't say anything, because she Needs to hear this so much, it hurts to see it in her eyes. "I was, ah, on the run. From the Game. With a friend, a Servitor of Eli. They caught up with us, and he...called for help." He must be off on another strange little adventure of his own this type, there's probably a note waiting for his triad, or he told them beforehand and they didn't bother to pass the information on. There can't be anything wrong, or I would know. "The next thing I know someone else is in his vessel, and he walks through the door like there aren't four Gamesters with weaponry on the other side, and... I followed, what else can you do in a situation like that?"
"He would know what to do." I wish I could bring Eli back myself for her, anything so that she wouldn't look at me like that. "Please, continue."
"I, ah, stood there looking like an idiot, and he...took care of things. Dropped a swimming pool over the three in the center of the room, and while they're standing there inside it the whole thing is full of toffee, never seen anything like that before and I don't think I will again. And there's one left and he, ah, walked over and picked her up and said--I don't know what he said, I couldn't hear, and quite frankly I was still paying attention to the giant pool of toffee with three demons in it, but he stuffed her into a tuba. And...just like that, no more danger."
If I stopped the story here, none of them would know the difference. But Zif tells me that confession is good for the soul. "He could have gone then. He'd saved his Servitor, and me in the process. But he...walked over to where I was standing. As if I could have anything to say that would interest him..." I gave him back the talisman then, the only thing I could think of, but a little editing of events won't hurt, I don't want to go into the history of that thing. "So I asked him what I should do. And he said. Ah. 'He thinks you have potential. But an aptitude for something is no use unless you pursue it.'" He took the notepad from my jacket and handed me a note for Kai, an origami frog, and then it was just...Kai again. Back there staring at me.
"He knew you could redeem." She says it like it's gospel. I give Kavita a nod, though I'm not sure it was that he knew I could, more that he...thought I ought to try. "But he wasn't the one..."
"No, and he knew that much too. Jean was a better fit." Like gears turning, running a current through an old wire and watching it spark to life.
"What was it like?" Daane asks, and then blushes, an oddly human thing to do. "I'm sorry, if you'd rather not talk about it..."
"No, it's..." Now I'm the one grasping at the air for words. "It's as if for all my life I'd been staring at a clock made of paper powered by two lemons, and someone was telling me to make it speak French. Now it's like... someone's handed me a perfectly tuned watch, and pointed me at an atomic clock, and asked me to make sure the times match." I don't want to talk about the process, about feeling my mind unravel, those cold, precise hands trying to hold me together, bits of me slipping away until I was afraid I'd have nothing of myself left, that I'd lose the things I wanted to remember forever.
"A Sparky to the core," Sadira says.
"I hope so."
The moment's passed, and now everyone's back to smiles and laughter, though Kavita keeps giving me these sidelong looks, as if she intends to track me down later to hear the story again. The recipe for this blend of tea gets passed around, and I copy it down more to make Lin happy than out of any need to know. Though I could put together a simple device to let you store all your various ingredients in different bins, and then decide on percentages of each to be blended easily in custom mixes... I sketch out a quick diagram and a few notes on the same sheet as the recipe, something to work on in my spare time when I'm done with other projects.
"I should get back," Daane says. "But if you ever need anything, Mannie, or just someone to talk to--"
"I'll keep you in mind," I say, and stand up as well, now that it's polite to do so. Four more hugs, Cory's the tightest.
"Take care of yourself," Cory says. She whispers in my ear, "And if anyone's too much of a jerk to you, let me know first, okay?"
I fly far enough to find a quiet place to land, then walk the rest of the way back. Straight into an entire triad of Judgment waiting in my office. The Malakite already looks impatient.
Oh, lovely. And Dedan is no less intimidating as a massive winged lion than he was in a vessel. The Seraph peers down at me critically. "We received a message from you, but when we came to speak with you, there was no one in your office." The tip of her tail smacks against the floor. "Not even a note."
They can't just dislike me, now they have to be delayed by me. I would sit down, but there's a Malakite standing in front of my chair. No chair is comfortable enough to be worth working around that. "I'm sorry I wasn't here," I say. "I didn't realize you would come so quickly." Or at all.
"Something about Kai, you said." The Cherub's great yellow eyes are fixed on me. "Of course we would come by. Now what is it?"
"I've called three times, three days in a row, and haven't gotten any answer. He used to--well, I'm worried, I hadn't heard anything from him, and I thought you three would know if he was just, ah, busy." It sounds so idiotic, nothing but suppositions and baseless worry, now that I'm standing in front of the three of them.
Dedan shakes his mane and bares his teeth. If he's trying to be intimidating, it's working. "Has it occurred to you that he might just not be taking your calls?"
"He wouldn't do that." Would he? Adala offers no indication to the Truth of what I've said. "He said he'd stop by the next time he was here--"
"You don't deserve to be here," Dedan says. I wish he had hit me instead.
"We'll look into it," says the Malakite, whose name I still can't remember, and it's strange that he should sound the most sympathetic of the three. "He's probably fine. Thank you for letting us know." His hand on the shoulder of the Cherub, and the three of them are gone.
I can't breathe. I don't need to breathe here, but I can't breathe. Sit down. Nearly miss the chair. I can't see anything on my desk, can't remember when my next meeting is scheduled, or what I'm supposed to be working on.
I don't deserve to be here.