A gust of wind carried the faint sound of singing from the Chorale. Haniel closed her eyes, her soft, youthful face tipped back to listen. “Exquisite, isn’t it? Hundreds of voices blending with not a single sour note. I understand why our father used to spend all his time at the Chorale. It allowed him to forget the ugliness in the world below.”
“Answer the question,” Gavriel snapped, losing patience with her rambling.
Haniel regarded him with bland indifference. “Cyphers are abominations,” she said. “They are cursed with the ability to birth Sinn, our age-old enemies. But my son is different. He is sterile.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“There are ways of testing it,” she replied evasively. “My point is that he has immeasurable value. He can move in elite circles, both witch and mortal, with no one the wiser. Leviathan is loyal to Mount Meru, but he appears human.”
“Loyal to Mount Meru?” Gavriel echoed. “Or to you, dear sister?”
Haniel ignored the sarcasm. “It doesn’t matter. My aims are the same as our father’s.” She took a step forward. “The mortals and witches will make kaldurite into a weapon against us. They are too greedy and corrupt to be allowed to govern themselves anymore. They have proven time and again that they don’t deserve free will. Fear is the only thing that seems to keep them in line.”
Her gaze turned to the distant silhouette of the Citadel. “The legions have been idle for too long,” she added softly. “It is time they were put to good use.”
A chill swept him. When had Haniel’s thinking become so distorted? He had to talk her out of this before it was too late.
“Not everyone is like Barsal Casolaba,” Gavriel protested. “Some of our cousins are loyal and generous, with little thought for themselves. Others make beautiful works of art and music, dance and literature. Take my city of Arioch. It is a hub of learning and enlightenment. If you would deign to leave your tower and actually speak to the people who live in your own province, you would find that they are not much different than we are?—”
Her shrill laugh of incredulity cut him off. “You can’t be serious. Our father took great care when he made us. But humans were created to be flawed. Travian’s twisted sense of humor, I suppose.”
“Just because a thing is flawed does not make it worthless,” Gavriel said firmly. “Can you not see, Haniel? It is humanity’s very imperfections that allow them to grow and change for the better, while we remain static. Worse, afraid to admit that we are wrong because such a thing is supposed to be impossible.”
He thought of all the angels who had been condemned to Plain of Contemplation for minor infractions. The trials were conducted swiftly and secretly, but it must be thousands by now. What had happened to them all?
Haniel shook her head. “I admit that a few humans do rise above the herd, but most spend their lives competing to fulfill primal urges for food, shelter, and procreation. They are industrious and even quite clever at times, but they are also cruel and selfish.”
She sniffed. “The witches think they are superior, more civilized, but that is only because they wield the power of lithomancy. Look at what they have done with that power! They pay lip service to the elected assemblies, but in reality Sion is ruled by an oligarchy that feeds off the blood of the mines.” She studied him with an obstinate tilt to her chin. “Tell me that is not true.”
“Some of it might be,” he conceded. “But it is far more complicated than you present it to be. I suppose you will claim the angels are perfect.”
“Not at all. But they hate us for it anyway, brother. And you can be assured that they will use this new stone to pull us down and destroy us.” Her face hardened. “We must control the source of the kaldurite, and you will show me where it is.”
Haniel’s utter confidence rankled his pride. How dare she presume to issue orders? She had no authority over him.
Before he could think twice, Gavriel withdrew the Rod of Penance from behind his back. “Or,” he growled, “I will send you to the lower plane to contemplate the wisdom of your actions, sister.”
Her sapphire eyes flashed. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Wouldn’t I?” Righteous fury filled him. “I have every right. You ordered the death of Barsal Casolaba. You tried to kill me—twice. And your union with a witch has produced offspring with dangerous and unsanctioned powers.” He strode forward, blood heating. Haniel retreated, nearly tripping over her gown in her haste. “As chief magistrate of Sion, I judge you guilty.”
Haniel bared her teeth like a cornered animal as he raised the Rod of Penance. She stood at the very edge of the platform, her wings tensed to take flight.
“Your sentence is . . .” Gavriel drew the thin, frozen air deep into his lungs. He thought of Alluin Westwind. Reminded himself of why he had come here in the first place. With a supreme effort, he mastered his anger. “To return to Kota Gelangi and call off your hunt for Kal Machena. The kaldurite does not belong to us.” Weariness came over him. “I cannot judge you for loving a witch. But I strongly suggest you leave before I change my mind.”
Haniel eyed him warily. “Gavriel Morningstar showing mercy? No one would believe it.”
“I have changed.” His voice grew stern. “But I cannot allow your son to walk free. Levi is a murderer and will be brought to account for it.”
She stared at Gavriel for a long moment. “If you can find him,” she retorted, eyeing the Rod of Penance. “Now put that vile thing away before?—”
“What is transpiring here?”
Gavriel’s heart sank at the new voice, deep and resonant with command. He turned to see their father alight on the Censura’s platform. The bright gold of his wings emitted a warm light as he strode forward, hand extended.
“Give it to me,” he said in a peremptory tone.
In Valoriel’s presence, Gavriel was a callow youth again, chastised for watching the legions drill when he was supposed to be studying his law books. That small act of rebellion was the farthest he’d ever gone in defiance of his father—until now.
