The Shadows of God - J. Gregory Keyes [47]
“The time for what? What are they planning?”
Uriel was silent for a time. “You've seen the dark engines. They are ready now, and with them they will kill your race.”
“There is more to this. Why should your kind wage civil war over our fate? There is something else, something some of you fear and some of you desire.”
“God's wrath. God's forgiveness.”
“You lie. What are they doing with my son?”
“I've told you what I know. Like you, he has the power to bridge our worlds, to connect spirit and matter. Through him, the great ones of my kind can put their hands into the world.”
“As they could at creation, before God changed the world.” The seraph hesitated.
“Come. You told me yourself that to make the world God had to withdraw from it. He created your kind to work where he could not, and you rebelled. But the universe is made of natural law, and even from outside it God was able to change that law, wasn't he? Just a little, just enough to rob you of your communication with matter. You, but not us.”
“That is essentially true but unimportant,” Uriel replied. “What is important right now is that we stop your son from unleashing the engines again.”
“Is it? I wonder.”
“You've been hurt,” Uriel said.
“Why, yes. You aren't the only one who has been in danger. Uriel, why didn't you tell me that all of you are only descended from two archangels?”
Another hesitation. “Does that matter?”
“It might. You cripple me when you do not tell me everything.”
“I don't have time to tell you everything. I tell you the things I think you most need to know.”
“And withhold those you most fear my knowing. Yes, I understand.”
“That is well.”
“Have you anything more to tell me? Anything about my son?”
“No.”
“Then leave me.”
Uriel vanished, at least from her sight.
Crecy entered about an hour later.
“Good. Help me up, Veronique. I need to walk.”
“You are not fit for that yet.”
“My wound is healing quickly.”
“That is true,” Crecy admitted. “You heal almost as quickly as I once did.”
“Is that an accusation?”
“An observation.”
“I have had help,” Adrienne replied.
Crecy nodded and didn't press any further.
“Now come, I need to find Hercule.”
“I will bring him here.”
“No, you won't. He's avoided me since the attack. Since Irena's death, really—”
“Not so. He comes when you sleep, when he is certain you will not awake. If you feign sleep—”
“Enough. Let us find him. You lend me your shoulder.” Crecy sighed and offered her arm.
Far from tiring her, the act of walking seemed to give Adrienne strength. The terrain below was still mostly open plains, but here and there, along rivers especially, trees huddled together as if for comfort against the vast space.
“There he is,” Crecy said.
“Stop,” Adrienne whispered. “Wait.”
Hercule had a boy on his shoulders, a lad of about five, a little Hercule. The two of them were chasing a girl, younger— three? All were laughing.
“Come here, little girl, or we'll eat you up!” the boy shouted. “I am the giant with two heads, sent by Koshchey the Deathless to capture you!”
The girl squealed as Hercule's arms closed about her. “Save me!” she cried.
Adrienne's throat tightened. “Another time,” she murmured. “I shall speak to him another time.”
“Too late,” Crecy said.
Hercule was staring at them and lifting his son down.
“But, Papa!” the boy said. “You said we could play!”
Hercule kissed the boy on the forehead. “We will, Stephen. But a little later, yes? I must speak to the Lady Adrienne right now.”
The children turned to stare at her. Adrienne expected resentment, but instead their eyes grew round.
“Saint Adrienne!” the boy said.
“I'm not a saint, dear,” Adrienne replied. “I'm just a woman.”
“They call you a saint,” the boy responded.
“Do you know what happened to my mama?” the little girl asked. “You can talk to the angels. Can you tell her I miss