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God’s Own touch, those bodies would endure longer than any mortal body, just as the bodies of Adams and Eves would endure longer than those of their descendants, but they would age. Indeed, the day would ultimately come when all of the angels—even the Archangels themselves—would be recalled to God’s presence. Timothy knew God Himself had ordained that, yet he was deeply grateful that he himself would have closed his eyes in death before that day arrived. A world no longer inhabited by angels would seem dark, shadowed and drab, to one who’d seen God’s Own messengers face-to-face in the glory of that world’s very first days.
    In many ways, the angel looked little different from a mortal. He was no taller than Timothy himself, his shoulders no broader. Yet he was garbed from head to foot in brilliant, light-shimmering raiment, a marvelous garment of perpetually shifting and flowing colors, and his head was crowned by a crackling blue fire. At his waist, he bore his staff, the rod of imperishable crystal half as long as a man’s forearm. Timothy had seen that rod used. Only once, but its lightning bolt had smitten the charging slash lizard to the earth in a single cataclysmic thunderclap of sound. Half the slash lizard’s body had been literally burned away, and Timothy’s ears had rung for hours afterwards.
    The angel looked out across the reverently kneeling crowd for several seconds in silence. Then he raised his right hand.
    â€œPeace be with you, My Children,” he said, his voice impossibly clear and loud, yet not shouting, not raised. “I bring you God’s blessings, and the blessing of the Archangel Langhorne, who is His servant. Glory be to God!”
    â€œAnd to His servants,” the response rumbled back, and the angel smiled.
    â€œGod is pleased with you, My Children,” he told them. “And now, go about your business, all of you, rejoicing in the Lord. I bring tidings to Father Michael and Mayor Timothy. After I have spoken with them, they will tell you what God desires of you.”
    Timothy and Michael stood side by side, watching as the crowded square and surrounding streets emptied, quickly and yet without hurrying or pushing. Some of the farmers from outside town had ridden hard—or, in some cases, literally run for miles—to be here for the moment of the angel’s arrival. Yet there was no resentment, no disappointment, in being sent about their business once again so quickly. It had been their joyous duty to welcome God’s messenger, and they knew they had been blessed beyond the deserts of any fallible, sinful mortal to have beheld the angel with their own eyes.
    The angel descended from the consecrated platform and crossed to Timothy and Michael. They went to one knee again before him, and he shook his head.
    â€œNo, My Sons,” he said gently. “There will be time enough for that. For now, we must speak. God and the Archangel Langhorne are pleased with you, pleased with the way in which Lakeview has grown and prospered. But you may be called to face new challenges, and the Archangel Langhorne has charged me to strengthen your spirits for the tasks to which you may be summoned. Come, let us go into the church, that we may speak in the proper setting.”

    Pei Kau-yung sat in the comfortable chair, his face an expressionless mask, as he listened to the debate.
    The G6 sun they had named Kau-zhi in honor of his brother shone down outside. It was just past local noon, and the northern summer was hot, but a cool breeze off Lake Pei blew in through the open windows, and he grimaced mentally as it breathed gently across him.
    The bastards couldn’t heap enough “honors” on us, could they? Named the local sun after Kau-zhi. The lake after him, too, I suppose—or maybe they meant to name it after both of us. Maybe even Shan-wei, at the time. But that’s as far as they’re going to go. I wonder