David Dalglish - The Prison of Angels

“Your reputation is well known,” Kevin said, glancing at him. “But tell me, which village do you represent? Oh, that is right, you live in Ker now. The angels have no sway over you.”

“Observing is not the same as speaking, or casting a vote,” Qurrah said, already disliking the man.

“Not true,” Kevin said. “Your very presence would change things. You’re a reminder of a different time, and a threat that no longer exists. We can’t be lost in the past. Now’s the future, and it’s that future I must protect.”

He fixed his tunic, which was made of some of the finest material Qurrah had ever seen, then adjusted the short cape around his neck.

“What do you hope to accomplish?” Qurrah asked him as he straightened his hair. “Do you think the angels will suddenly change their minds and bow to this rabble you’ve assembled?”

“You’re just like your brother,” Kevin said, licking his fingers and making a second attempt at his hair. “You hold these winged men in far too high regard. They’re fallible, and more importantly, they must follow laws and customs just like us. They know this. They believe themselves to represent everything good and just. They say they always know the truth when they hear it. And you know what?”

He flashed Qurrah a smile.

“I think they’re right.”

Kevin stepped into the auditorium, and from within two angels on guard pushed the iron doors shut. Qurrah shook his head, wishing he could have met Kevin many years ago, when ripping the tongue out of a living man might not have put such a weight on his conscience. Being barred from listening to the complaints of the people was ridiculous. Worse, Kevin had somehow finagled it so that Harruq was banned as well. ‘Just the people and the angels,’ Kevin had claimed, though Qurrah sensed the weaseling desires behind it.

Still, sneaking into a meeting he’d been banned from was far, far less a burden on Qurrah’s conscience than tongue mutilation. Turning about, he hurried to a nearby door, which led to a closet used by servants. Within were various stored tools, plus a great stack of clean linens. More importantly, the closet shared a wall with the auditorium. Sitting down beside that wall, he put his fingers against the stone and began to cast a spell. A thin tendril of shadow stretched out from his palm, then began to twirl. It dug through the stone with an unnatural silence. When it popped through, light poured into the dark closet. A quick check showed he could see the rows of angels, all circled around the far fewer number of representatives come to speak for the common man.

Dismissing the spell, Qurrah lowered his head, pressed his ear to the hole, and listened.

Tessanna lay in their bed, waiting for Qurrah’s return. She’d tried playing with Aubrienna, but all the while she felt Aurelia watching her. There was no malice in it, no real anger. But the mistrust was there, however faint, and it made Tessanna sick because she knew it was well-deserved. Wishing her lover could be with her, she lay there, eyes closed, feeling hours pass over her in a steady, uninterrupted flow.

When the door opened, she sat up, smiling.

“You’re back,” she said. The smile on her face immediately vanished. Qurrah looked in a hurry, and he rushed to the chest where their things were stored.

“We must leave,” he said, throwing it open. “Gather whatever you wish to bring with you, and if you have any goodbyes, go say them now.”

Tessanna’s mouth dropped open.

“What do you mean?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

“I said hurry!” Qurrah snapped. He immediately turned back to what he was doing. Tessanna stood up from the bed, walked over to Qurrah, and then wrapped her hands around him to force him to calm down. When he looked up at her, he kissed her lips, then let out a sigh.

“Forgive me,” he said. “But time is not our friend right now.”

“Tell me first,” she said. “I will not flee the castle like a burglar, no matter what has happened. Now answer me.”

“It was the meeting,” he said. “The people, they spoke their demands to the angels, and it was all the same. They explained it in different ways, disguised their real demands with impractical ideas, but deep down they wanted the same thing.”

He looked up at her, and she saw the fear in her lover’s eyes.

“They want death,” he said. “They want death, and I think the angels are going to give it to them.”

“That’s nonsense,” Tess said as Qurrah resumed packing his things. She stood over him, watching. “The angels aren’t murderers. And what do you mean they want death?”

“Sinners punished,” Qurrah said. “Not forgiven. Not remedied. Punished. Killed. Hung. Beheaded. Am I making sense now?”

“Stop it,” she said. “Stop snapping at me.”

“I’m sorry.”

He turned around, sitting with his back against the open chest. With his left hand he rubbed his forehead, as if suffering a headache.

“It’s not that they made the demands,” he said. “I understand their frustration. That wasn’t it. That’s not why we must leave. It was the angels. They were agreeing with them. I saw them listening, nodding. They looked too eager to please, too eager to abandon what Ahaesarus kept trying to defend. It’s like there’s a sickness here, Tess. I can’t find it, but I smell the scent of disease.”

She sat in silence as he finished bundling the last of his things, then stood.

“They mentioned my name,” he said, slamming the chest shut. “I won’t repeat what they said, but I assure you, it’s a sign our time here is over. They angels are flying back to Avlimar. I want us gone long before they return.”

“Whatever you say,” Tessanna said. She thought of leaving Aubrienna, of not seeing her for several more years, and felt her heart crack. Still, she would not live without her lover. If Qurrah was leaving, then so was she. Either way she’d be miserable, but at least she’d have his company. Qurrah seemed to sense it, and he wrapped his arms around her waist.

“We’ll come back,” he said. “When things have calmed down. When people are thinking clearly.”

“What of Aubrienna,” Tessanna whispered. “She’s still in danger. Are we to just leave them?”

Qurrah winced. He’d clearly been thinking the same thing, and it seemed he’d wanted to ignore that fact.

“We have to trust Harruq and Aurelia to protect her,” he said. “You must believe me, our presence here does not help my brother. It only hurts him.”

“Of course it does,” Tessanna said. “That’s all we ever do.”

Tears ran down her face, but she felt her humanity receding, pulled into a deeper part of herself. Whatever emotions she felt, they suffocated, becoming gray things in the corners of her mind that held no sway over her. Qurrah’s face showed his hurt at what she’d said, but she felt no guilt for it, no remorse. She was hurting. Why should he not know it?

“Come on,” he said. “I’ll tell Harruq we’re leaving for Ker. Would you like to say goodbye to Aubrienna before we go?”

As if from a distance, she knew doing so would make her happy.

“Yes,” she said. “I would like that.”

“I’m sorry,” Qurrah said, taking her hand. “I really am.”

“I know,” she said, as if knowing meant anything at all.

Harruq sat brooding on Antonil’s throne. He still didn’t view it as his own, and he felt sick at the idea that one day he might. Qurrah had informed him of their departure several hours ago. His brother was probably halfway to Ker by now if he was traveling by magic. Their change in attitude was sudden, but strangely not surprising. It was as if, because of their recent arrival, they were better able to smell the danger in the air.