The Envy of Angels

Chapter 2

I gathered my harp and bag and trudged into Hosanna, the wondrous Kingdom By The Sea. Megascrapers of tiered steel and concrete raked the darkening skyline. Overpasses and expressways looped across the hills, traffic lights smeared white and red. The propellers of a passing zeppelin droned above me. On the highest ridge loomed the Temple of the Seraphim, its bold spires aglow between shifting spotlight beams. The monument to the Archangels crowned the turrets--seven chromed figures with streamlined wings and arms flung high.

I strolled along dusky lanes. Shopkeepers drew window shades and locked their doors for the night. Contoured motorcars jostled and honked, chromed fenders pressing, while stylish pedestrians crammed the sidewalks. Many stares followed my threadbare cotton shirt and plus-fours, and the wooden harp slung over my back. I ignored them, whistling as I made my way to the examinations office.

I entered the oldest part of the city, where the ornate buildings of the founders curved among the sleek angles of the modern. Loudspeakers blared the hymns of the Sacred Chorus on every corner. On the side of a municipal tower, a telescreen several stories tall flickered with a joyous broadcast. A congregation lifted their hands in praise. A dignified man appeared, blond hair combed to stiff perfection. His voice boomed over the plaza, diamond cuff links twinkling as he held a volume of the Righteous Code before the camera. "Have you lost hope? Sinking beneath the waves of life's little tragedies? The only way to peace is through the angels themselves, our saviors and guardians. I'm Pastor Benedict Lee, of the Redemption Ministry, and we'll ensure your prayers are heard." His contact information scrolled across the display.

Could this Pastor Lee be related to the fetching Annabel I'd just met? It was doubtful, being a common surname.

The examinations office welcomed hopefuls at all hours. A rounded structure of opalescent white, lush trellises blossomed over its colonnade. Tall fanlight windows bore patterns of interlocking triangles, adjacent gas lamps casting cheerful beams onto the terrace. I stepped into its palatial antechamber and clutched my cap to my chest. Reflective stone adorned the walls in contrasting rectangles of blue, black, and white. My boots thumped against the checkered tile floor in a rude echo. Curvilinear desks and chairs were clustered in pleasing arrays around the room.

A solid granite bas-relief dominated the entryway, depicting the arrival of the Seraphim, and their great battle with the Devils. At the top, the Prodigal Star plummeted from the heavens, trailing brash symmetrical lines. The Archangels soared forth, their ridged pinions spread to the firmament. Their trumpets called for war, while the bestial Devils cringed below, fleeing into the tormented swirls of the sea.

As I admired its beauty, a uniformed woman approached. "Good evening. Are you here for the examination?"

"Yes, ma'am. How do I apply?"

She bowed her head. "Follow me."

A smaller chamber waited beyond. Unlike the reception area, blank stone covered every surface here. Six people waited behind a monolithic desk, the Seraphic emblem mounted on the front in a sharp silver arc.

A white-haired gentleman stood, gripping his cane. "What's your name, young fellow?"

I straightened my posture. "Tristan of Steelbend."

He cleared his throat. "A steelworker's son?"

"I was previously, but not anymore."

"I'm Chairman Ness, and this is the Council of Holy Reason," he said. "What brings you to our Kingdom?"

"I seek fame and a career in music."

Chairman Ness glanced at his companions, frowning at their haughty chuckles and whispers. "What is your current profession?" he asked.