Confusion is contagious. Watching over so many people who don’t know what to think, I myself do not know what to feel.
I knew, of course, of the spread of a new virus—Brid has been worrying about it for some months now. But even in my sympathy for her I did not give the threat much thought. She, like me, works with charges in North America, and so it has not been our direct concern until very recently. And I have been occupied with things more dangerous than a sickness. Or so I thought.
Freya has been working from home for more than a week now, and is beginning to get a bit stir-crazy. She pulled her father’s old bicycle out of storage and has been working on fixing it up, with help from videos online and advice from George over the phone. She was going to take it out today, but it is raining and she is not pleased. She may go anyway.
Miranda, too, has been at home with Evan, who is delighted by the closing of school. Mindful of his agreement with Alex, though, he’s kept himself busy, meticulously recording all the work that he’s done. Miranda was amazed the other day when he got upset to learn that the local libraries were closed.
For Alex, of course, nothing has changed. Mr. Hill will not let a paltry thing like a global pandemic stop him in his greedy, selfish work.
None of my charges are particularly worried. For them, life goes on, and they are not concerned with the possibility that soon it may not.
But feeling Brid’s worry, I went to join her this afternoon, and found her at the back of a gathering of Healers, all pressed close around Zaman and two other angels I did not recognize. I felt immediately that I did not belong, but Brid caught my hand before I could go and whispered, “It’s all right. Look, there are others here as well.”
I took another look at my gathered siblings and saw that it was true—while the majority of them were Healers, there were several Persuasions in the crowd, as well as a handful of Comforters and a lone, gray-winged Gather. I was surprised too to recognize Priya, her laughter quieted and her smile absent.
They were all silent, waiting, it seemed, but no one was speaking. Zaman stood next to an angel I was stunned to realize must be Jaathiya, the Elder of Healers, her six narrow wings held close around her. She was small and dark, her beautiful head bowed humbly. Like Zaman, she was silent, her eyes on the angel next to her.
In that company, the third angel was diminished, a Power with wings crafted mostly of air. Yet there was an anticipation about him that held one’s gaze. I had the sensation that the moment I took my eyes from him, miracles would spring up around him and I would miss them. Small and translucent though he seemed, there was also some substance in him that I had never met before.
This was explained when he lifted one hand, and in the palm a whirling eye opened and blinked, staring out at what none of us could yet see. He was a Reader and a Throne, capable of seeing the times to come.
“This is only the beginning, brothers and sisters,” he declared. “Urge caution to your people, and give what strength you can to the body. But do not neglect the balance. Earth’s spirit wallows in these troubled times, and her people will be in isolation when they most need to feel connected. Send for the Singers, that hearts may reach out while hands draw back. Comforters, look to more than just those who mourn their dead. And you Guardians, be wary, for our enemy will be stronger now than ever before.”
For a moment, it seemed that that misty Eye gazed right at me. Then it closed, and the Reader lowered his hand and lifted his face.
“We will continue to watch, of course,” he said in a quieter voice to Jaathiya.
“I expected nothing less,” she answered. “My thanks, Simmah.”
They exchanged bows, and then Simmah departed, though he did cast a glance through the crowd. Again I felt that he was looking at me.
“You have heard our brother’s advice,” Jaathiya declared. “Gria, go and take a message to Israfel that he may begin to assign the Singers to work with us. The rest of you, you have your work to do. Be about it, please.”
The gathered angels began to disperse, and Brid drew me away. Priya came to meet us and assured me that she would pass Simmah’s reading on to our seniors. I thanked her, and soon I was left alone with Brid.
She shivered and wrapped her wings tight around herself. “I hate disease,” she whispered. “It must have been a great day for the Enemy when he thought of that—a way to turn people’s closeness against one another. Either way he wins.”
“Only a temporary victory,” I reminded her, surprised by her vehemence.
“Tell that to those who lose their lives.” She shook her head, blinking back tears. “One of my charges has just lost her father, and she can’t bury him or be with her daughters because she is in quarantine. How am I to make that better?”
“You did everything you could for her—”
She glared at me. “You of all souls cannot tell me that I must leave a charge once my assigned task is done.”
I blinked, and then I laughed. She joined me after a moment, albeit reluctantly.
“You are right,” I said when we had calmed, putting my arm around her waist. “And Simmah is right. These are hard times made harder, and it seems unfair, I know. But something that has been on Freya’s mind these past few days reassures me very much, and I hope it will reassure you, as well.”
“And what is that?”
“Silver linings,” I said with a smile, thinking of how Freya had been scowling at the clouds this morning. “If you look for silver linings on the clouds, you will find them. And if they are there, that means that there is light too. And the light,” I added, giving her a squeeze, “will last far longer than the clouds.”
I left her with that thought, and though she was still worried, as she should be, she also smiled for the first time today.
We have work to do, brothers and sisters, more so than ever in these times. But please also remember that there is light behind the clouds.