Chapter 1 | 20 (part 5)

Amos felt the Angel even before he looked across the room to meet his gaze. The Angel’s eyes pierced through Amos and reached the walls Amos had made around his spirit. A brief note of surprise shown within the Angel, quickly subdued. Amos tried to remain calm, hoping his defenses would hold. Even if there had just been one, he dared not Search out the Angel in return.

At last, the Angel turned away, his walls back up, his gaze no longer upon Amos. Mercifully, he’d made no Call or tried to Search, but must have shared whatever he could see with the other Angel, for shortly thereafter he too turned to look in the direction of Amos and the woman.

If they somehow discern who I am, neither will hesitate to take me before the Throne without question. Amos didn’t think they could have seen anything that would have given him away, but the events of the past few days had shaken him, and he couldn’t be sure. It was entirely possible they might think him on an errand of some other purpose and simply ignore him. And if that were so, running would almost certainly arouse their suspicions.

But the risk in remaining could be even greater. Amos couldn’t begin to fathom why they were here, but it seemed impossible they were here on other business, or – even less likely – for his own good.

He looked at the inn’s entrance, considering. Other than the two Angels, no one had come in or gone out for some time. Far too much attention I’d attract were I to leave that way. The shutters of the window next to his table were only loosely latched, and Amos pressed on the one nearest him. It seemed easy enough to open.

“You seem nervous, traveler.”

Amos returned his attention to the woman. He thought carefully before responding. Initial fears regarding her trustworthiness had begun to resurface. “I cannot wait for the boy to return,” he said. “I must leave now, and without any notice, if possible.”

The woman studied him once more, then nodded. “So be it.” She breathed in, slow and serene. “I will do what I can to help you, traveler – both now and should ever you find yourself within these lands again.” She said that as though sure it would happen. “To begin, I’d not try opening those shutters if you have any interest in remaining unnoticed. It’s been sometime since Tamir had them greased, and they will squeal on their hinges for certain.”

Faintly, she nodded her head toward the door nearby the kitchen’s entryway. “That hall leads to the first floor rooms and then eventually out the back of the inn. I will go and speak with Tamir as though settling up with him for your meal and a bed for tonight. He’s at the other side of the bar,” she motioned across the room, “the tall one, with a cloth on his shoulder and surrounded by guests. I’ll make sure those around him overhear my conversation to assuage any doubts some might have as to your presence here, though I find it unlikely that there are many who’ve given it much thought.”

Amos’ suspicion grew as she talked. He had seen no door at the back of the inn when he’d circled it earlier this evening, though it had been dark, and possibly he could have missed it. Yet even were that so, can I afford to trust this woman? It seemed he had little choice at this point.

“Wait for me to return,” she said, “you’d need me to tell you which room you’d be staying in, after all. And if you could,” she continued, “it would help if you looked a little more tired and a little less anxious. No one here would think twice about seeing a weary traveler retiring early to their room for the night. That’s better,” she said, as Amos slumped his shoulders a bit and tried to slouch in the small chair, stretching his long legs under the low table.

“Very well,” he said. “I will wait –”

The table between them exploded into shatters, knocking Amos and woman to the floor, and causing several people in the inn to yell in panic. Amos rolled away, covering his face, and was on his feet almost as quickly as he’d fallen. He looked toward where the woman had landed. She lay still, one arm folded awkwardly over her side. Then, a breath. She lives.

He looked across the room. The two Angels stood side-by-side, silent and unmoving, their eyes piercing into Amos as they began to Search.

Amos could hide no longer. Amidst the shouts of the patrons now moving toward him and the woman, he quietly Spoke and at once the inn was thrown into darkness, the fire and every lamp extinguished. Cries and gasps of alarm came from every corner of the room now, but Amos was already running for the hall next to the kitchen entryway.

As he reached the hall and began racing toward the end, the glow of the common room suddenly returned, throwing his shadow in front of him as he ran. They must have Called the light back into the inn. As Amos reached the end of the hall and pushed open the heavy wooden door, he could still faintly hear the clamor of the inn’s patrons, trying to sort out what had happened.

May she be not be harmed, Amos thought as he left the inn. He could not shake from his mind the image of the woman lying unconscious, nor the terror within the eyes of those two Angels. Standing, he thought as he continued to run. There could now be no doubt that they had come because of him.

He was nearing the edge of the town’s limits when he felt the first few drops of rain hit him. He ran harder, hoping to put as much distance as possible between him and the Angels before it became too treacherous to travel.

How foolish he’d been to believe he’d be safe there! It had been reckless to come within the dwellings of mankind so quickly. Let me not have brought these people into danger. Far better would it have been to wait in the wilderness until he could be sure no one had been able to follow him here. He’d put every one of their lives at stake. Unbidden, scenes of other Angels standing before chaos and upheaval – dark memories of long ago – were rising to the surface. Amos trembled as he attempted to suppress such thoughts. Let them pass over this place, he pleaded. Let them never return.

The lights of Huaráz faded behind Amos as he ran.

. . .