Smoke and Mirrors

“I cut him short. ‘How about Lucifer? Tell me about him.’

“‘Lucifer? The Captain of the Host? He doesn’t work here . . . He has visited the Hall a couple of times, though—inspecting the Creation. They say he reports directly to the Name. I have never spoken to him.’

“‘Did he know Carasel?’

“‘I doubt it. As I said, he has only been here twice. I have seen him on other occasions, though. Through here.” He flicked a wingtip, indicating the world outside the window. “In flight.’

“‘Where to?’

“Saraquael seemed to be about to say something, then he changed his mind. ‘ I don’t know.’

“I looked out of the window at the Darkness outside the Silver City.

“I may want to talk with you some more, later,’ I told Saraquael.

“‘Very good.” I turned to go. “‘Sir? Do you know if they will be assigning me another partner? For Death?’

“‘No,’ I told him. ‘I’m afraid I don’t.’

“In the center of the Silver City was a park—a place of recreation and rest. I found the Angel Lucifer there, beside a river. He was just standing, watching the water flow.

“‘Lucifer?’

“He inclined his head. ‘Raguel. Are you making progress?’

“‘I don’t know. Maybe. I need to ask you a few questions. Do you mind?’

“‘Not at all.’

“‘How did you come upon the body?’

“‘I didn’t. Not exactly. I saw Phanuel standing in the street. He looked distressed. I inquired whether there was something wrong, and he showed me the dead angel. And I fetched you.’

“‘I see.’

“He leaned down, let one hand enter the cold water of the river. The water splashed and rolled around it. ‘Is that all?’

“‘Not quite. What were you doing in that part of the city?’

“‘I don’t see what business that is of yours.’

“‘It is my business, Lucifer. What were you doing there?’

“‘I was . . . walking. I do that sometimes. Just walk and think. And try to understand.’ He shrugged.

“‘You walk on the edge of the City?’

“A beat, then ‘Yes.’

“‘That’s all I want to know. For now.’

“‘Who else have you talked to?”

“‘Carasel’s boss and his partner. They both feel that he killed himself—ended his own life.’

“‘Who else are you going to talk to?’

“I looked up. The spires of the City of the Angels towered above us. ‘Maybe everyone.’

“‘All of them?’

“‘If I need to. It’s my function. I cannot rest until I understand what happened, and until the Vengeance of the Name has been taken on whosoever was responsible. But I’ll tell you something I do know.’

“‘What would that be?’ Drops of water fell like diamonds from the Angel Lucifer’s perfect fingers.

“‘Carasel did not kill himself.’

“‘How do you know that?”

“‘I am Vengeance. If Carasel had died by his own hand,’ I explained to the Captain of the Heavenly Host, ‘there would have been no call for me. Would there?’

“He did not reply.

“I flew upward into the light of the eternal morning.

“You got another cigarette on you?”

I fumbled out the red and white packet, handed him a cigarette.

“Obliged.

“Zephkiel’s cell was larger than mine.

“It wasn’t a place for waiting. It was a place to live, and work, and be. It was lined with books, and scrolls, and papers, and there were images and representations on the walls: pictures. I’d never seen a picture before.

“In the center of the room was a large chair, and Zephkiel sat there, his eyes closed, his head back.

“As I approached him, he opened his eyes.

“They burned no brighter than the eyes of any of the other angels I had seen, but somehow they seemed to have seen more. It was something about the way he looked. I’m not sure I can explain it. And he had no wings.

“‘Welcome, Raguel,’ he said. He sounded tired.

“‘You are Zephkiel?’ I don’t know why I asked him that. I mean, I knew who people were. It’s part of my function, I guess. Recognition. I know who you are.

“‘Indeed. You are staring, Raguel. I have no wings, it is true, but then my function does not call for me to leave this cell. I remain here, and I ponder. Phanuel reports back to me, brings me the new things, for my opinion. He brings me the problems, and I think about them, and occasionally I make myself useful by making some small suggestions. That is my function. As yours is vengeance.’

“‘Yes.’

“‘You are here about the death of the Angel Carasel?’

“‘Yes.’

“‘I did not kill him.’

“‘When he said it, I knew it was true.

“‘Do you know who did?’

“‘That is your function, is it not? To discover who killed the poor thing and to take the Vengeance of the Name upon him.’

“‘Yes.’

“He nodded.

“‘What do you want to know?’

“I paused, reflecting on what I had heard that day. ‘Do you know what Lucifer was doing in that part of the City before the body was found?’

“The old angel stared at me. ‘I can hazard a guess.’

“‘Yes?’

“‘He was walking in the Dark.’

“I nodded. I had a shape in my mind now. Something I could almost grasp. I asked the last question:

“‘What can you tell me about Love?’

“And he told me. And I thought I had it all.

“I returned to the place where Carasel’s body had been. The remains had been removed, the blood had been cleaned away, the stray feathers collected and disposed of. There was nothing on the silver sidewalk to indicate it had ever been there. But I knew where it had been.

“I ascended on my wings, flew upward until I neared the top of the spire of the Hall of Being. There was a window there, and I entered.

“Saraquael was working there, putting a wingless mannikin into a small box. On one side of the box was a representation of a small brown creature with eight legs. On the other was a representation of a white blossom.