The Empire of Glass - Andy Lane [49]
Galileo waved the buckled spyglass at the Doctor. "You said it would come in useful," he said, and smiled.
"Indeed," the Doctor said. A scowl crossed his face. "But did you have to damage it so badly? It was the only one I had."
Cardinal Roberto Bellarmine was sitting on the edge of the sumptuously comfortable bed that he had woken up in, gazing around the plain but elegant room and amazed at the fact that people still slept in Heaven, when the door slid silently open. The creature that entered was thin to the point of starvation. Its skin was knobbly, like the bark of a tree, and a horn like a slender willow branch extended upward from a skull the size of a clenched fist. In fact, it looked like nothing so much as a man made out of sticks.
"Good morning," it said, and bowed. "Your presence honours us."
Bellarmine fought down a moment of revulsion and crossed himself, hoping that the good Lord would forgive him. This... this angel? ... was no less a servant of the Lord than he himself was.
More so, in fact, as it was obviously in a position of some responsibility. Bellarmine sighed, and smiled slightly. He had spent his life talking about humility. The Lord was now giving him the chance to put his words into practice.
"Thank you," he said, standing, "but it is I who am honoured to be here. I..." He hesitated, unsure of himself for the first time in years.
"I am unfamiliar with what is required of me here. Do I... I mean, I am not worthy to, but will... He wish to meet with me?"
The angel, if that was what it was, nodded. "He will talk with you soon, but there are more pressing matters to attend to in the mean time. They are waiting for you."
"Ah," Bellarmine said, "of course." The angel stood aside to let him leave the room. "After you," Bellarmine said, bowing his head. The angel nodded, and led the way.
They walked along a corridor whose ceiling was arched and whose walls and floor were made of what felt like blue marble veined with gold. There were no tapestries, no paintings, no decoration of any kind. Doors led off at regular intervals, indistinguishable from his own. Were all new arrivals to Heaven given rooms here, Bellarmine wondered. He opened his mouth to ask the angel, but restrained himself at the last moment. After all, he had eternity to find the answers to all his questions. There was no point in looking too eager.
A long balcony to his left distracted his attention. Outside he could see a blue sky and the tips of green trees. How like his native Italy.
Even the air smelled the same. Perhaps Heaven was meant to feel like home to all new arrivals.
The corridor opened into a vast hall, still floored in the gold-veined marble. The ceiling was suspended so high above his head that clouds drifted across it. Winged forms circled in the distance.
Seraphim, perhaps? Cherubim?
The angel led him across the empty plain of the hall towards a pair of large doors. They swung open as he reached them, revealing a room like an inverted cone, with a lectern in the middle of the small stage at its point and serried rows of seats receding into the distance towards its ceiling. The seats were occupied by angels of infinite variety: some winged and feathered like birds; some shelled like turtles with heads bobbing on the end of long, wizened necks; some with hard, glossy skins, bulging eyes and feelers extending from their foreheads; some short and squat with many legs; some furred and graceful like foals; some like metal boxes upon which tiny lamps winked on and off; some like men but with red skins, or green skins, or skins that glowed with pearly, shifting colours; some that were just blurs in the air with glowing red eyes -
at least, he assumed they were eyes. They were all watching Cardinal Bellarmine as he advanced uncertainly into the room. He turned to ask a question of the spindly angel that had guided him, but the doors were closing behind him. He was