Angelica Read Online Free PDF

the very top of the Velo Mountains, the Eyrie was a vast and labyrinthine complex of beige-quartz stone that housed all the angels of Bethel and the mortals who resided with them. From this vantage point, the highest in the Eyrie, Gaaron could look down on the small town of Velora at the foot of the mountains, and at the summer-green plains that spread southward from the mountains as far as the horizon would allow him to see. Except for their singing, there was no sound in the world. The sky was a hazy white just now starting to deepen into blue. Everything seemed new-made, unused, sweet with possibilities.
    Esther finished off the Argosy with a pretty little “Amen,” then sent her voice down on a series of half notes till she hit a new key she liked. Gaaron only had to listen to the first few notes before he recognized the Fiat by Lochevsky, and he added the tenor underpinnings that would anchor the soprano notes in place. Esther was a polished though not particularly imaginative singer, a matronly mortal woman with high-piled white hair and a sharp-edged face that always appeared on the verge of a frown. Although Gaaron was usually a traditionalist himself, he preferred it when one of the younger residents of the Eyrie joined him on these dawn watches. They were more apt to try some of the more difficult contemporary pieces, which they sang with gusto even when they missed some of the more unlikely notes. Esther didn’t have much flair even on the pieces she had been singing since she was a child.
    But that was unkind. Gaaron was never unkind. He toldhimself to be more generous, and to pay more attention. When Esther’s voice tumbled from G-sharp to the tricky B-flat, Gaaron’s was right there on the F to bolster her up. She smiled again, pleased at the ringing harmony. He smiled back.
    Bolstering people up was what the leader of the Eyrie’s angelic host was best equipped to do.
    They had made it through most of the Fiat before their replacements showed up at the cupola’s narrow door, yawning their way through their first sentient hour of the day. Zibiah and Ahio were both angels, both young—and both, Gaaron would have sworn, had been up fairly late the night before. Still, you never missed a harmonic if you had signed up for it on the previous day. No matter what adventures your evening might have led to, if you were expected just after sunrise, then you had better be prepared to sing just as the sky turned blue.
    Zibiah joined her voice to Esther’s on the last chorus of the Fiat, while Ahio brought in the bass line just under Gaaron’s. The final few measures were done in a very robust three-part harmony that made the piece, briefly, seem truly sacred. As the four of them held on to the final notes, Ahio gave Zibiah three downbeats with his head. Then the two of them burst into a flurry of careless arpeggios that seemed to laugh the morning sun above the prairie. Gaaron could not help a smile. Ahio was a composer, of a sort, though you had to be an energetic and quick-witted singer to be able to romp through any of his pieces. Gaaron nodded a good morning at them, then followed Esther out of the cupola and down toward the main plateau of the Eyrie.
    Esther was shaking her head. “That girl’s as silly as they come,” she said. “As silly as any mortal girl come up to the hold to try to snare an angel lover. Some days I don’t know what to do with her.”
    Since Esther was the de facto steward of the entire hold, the one who handled most of the housekeeping problems and was everyone’s first ear to complain to when anything went wrong, she had some basis for saying that. But Gaaron frowned anyway.
    â€œDon’t do anything with her,” he said mildly. “She’syoung, and a little flighty, but she always meets her responsibilities. Whenever I’ve sent her out to take care of a petition, she’s gone willingly and done a reasonable