Now, the young mortal appeared in the doorway. Of course, Mahiya thought, youth was a relative thing. This woman who had lived but twenty-seven, perhaps twenty-eight years, was old enough to have a little boy hiding behind her skirts. At the same age, Mahiya had been a babe not much bigger than the boy.
“My lady.” The toymaker bowed, her hands fisting in her apron. “I would welcome you inside but . . .”
“The intent is enough,” Mahiya said with utmost gentleness in the informal local dialect. “I will not disturb you long.”
“Please, let me bring you a cup of tea at least.” Entreaty in eyes of melted chocolate. “I cannot send an angel from my doorstep without courtesy.”
“Thank you. Tea would be welcome.”
A shaky smile lit up the woman’s face. “I have a pot on the stove. A minute, no more.” As she turned to go, the little boy found the courage to stay behind, eyes of the same melted chocolate as his mother gazing at Mahiya in wonder.
“Hello,” Mahiya said, and since he didn’t bolt, asked, “Why are you not at school?”
His eyes became even rounder, and he sucked his thumb into his mouth. When she didn’t say anything further, he withdrew that thumb with slow carefulness, as if not trusting her silence. “I’m not as big as Nishi yet.” A pause, then he added, “Nishi goes to school,” as if to make sure she understood.
“Ah,” she said. “Will you be old enough soon?”
Lines on his forehead. “Not too soon. Maybe almost soon.”
Biting back her smile at his flawless childish logic, she saw his eyes go to her wings. “You may come closer if you wish.”
Thumb in his mouth again, he padded out to stand only inches from her, examining her feathers with the frankness of the very young. When his mother appeared in the doorway, cup in hand, she went to call him back, but Mahiya shook her head. Accepting the tea, she said, “He is smart and brave both.”
“Yes.” The proud woman beamed, her thin face beautiful. “Takes after his father.”
Only then did Mahiya ask her question. “I saw someone with a toy bear—pink and white, with an embroidered collar—”
“Of white daisies.” Quickening excitement.
“Yes, exactly. I thought it may have been your work.” Hand sewn and embroidered, the eyes a lovely blue crystal, and the stitch work exquisite.
“Do you remember if it had a tiny yellow star on the left foot?”
Mahiya thought back. “Yes.”
“Then it is mine for certain. But I’m sorry, my lady, I don’t have another.”
“Oh, that’s a pity. Do you keep many?”
“No, only one of each kind.” The woman smoothed her hands down her apron. “I sold Daisy a week ago. Oh, let me take your cup.”
“Thank you. The tea was delicious.” Rich, milky, flavored with cardamom and sweetened with honey. “Do you remember to whom you sold Daisy? I may see if they are willing to sell it to me.”
“A vampire. Unfamiliar, perhaps a guest at the fort.” The woman bit her lip, shook her head. “He gave no name, but his hair was scarlet, his skin like fine bone china.”
“A difficult man to miss.” Yet she knew of no vampire with such hair and skin in the vicinity.
Another mystery.
* * *
Jason had spent the morning collecting information from quarters closed to others, and now landed in a farmer’s fallow field, heading to the shade cast by a hut likely used as a resting place during the planting season. He needed the whispering silence to think, to put all the pieces together.
The fact was, though he’d said nothing to either Venom or Mahiya, he had the amorphous feeling that Mahiya was the key. But while she’d had relationships of some kind with both Eris and Arav, nothing significant connected her to either Audrey or Shabnam. Yet, his instincts persisted—as if he’d seen or heard something he hadn’t consciously understood.
Frustrated, he took out his phone, deciding to pursue the answer to another question.
“Jason.” The warmth of Jessamy’s smile traveled through even the tiny screen. “It’s good to see you.”
“And you.” It was Jessamy who had first helped him remember what it was to be a person again.
Standing outside the place where he’d watched the baby angels go to learn things, he waited for the last lingering student to disappear before he slipped inside.
The woman within looked up, her eyes gentle with a kindness that wasn’t pity. “I have something for you,” she said, as if she’d been waiting for him, as if she knew he’d been listening to her lessons from the shadows for many days.
Walking over, she handed him a set of hard books with big letters on the pages. “To help you remember.”
He touched the cover, turned the pages.
He’d once had books like this, had read them over and over even after he was alone, but then they’d crumbled, and after a while, he’d forgotten he was supposed to know how to read. Until today, when Jessamy’s newest lesson had turned a key in his mind, unlocking the sound of his mother’s voice as she taught him his letters.
Taking the books, he left without a word.
It had taken him months to break his silence, but Jessamy, with her wise eyes and kind heart, had never pushed, always left him room to breathe. Now, he said, “I have a question for you.”
A tilt of her head.
“You know Lijuan has evolved, and Raphael has gained a new ability. There are now signs that something may be happening to Titus, though I cannot yet say what.” The warrior archangel’s people were fiercely loyal, and Jason’s spies had only been able to ascertain that Titus was battling an illness. As archangels did not get sick, Titus must be undergoing a transformation of some kind.