They Who Fell by Kevin Kneupper Page A

them in her head while her body kept on with the drudgery. Sometimes she was married, raising a throng of rowdy children in a tiny cabin at the base of a range of mountains. Others, she was queen of the tower and adored by all her subjects, human and angel alike. She knew how hard it could be to get suddenly jarred back to reality. Peter had been wounded, and the last thing she wanted to do was twist the knife. She tried to think, to come up with the easiest way to let him down, before a voice from behind her interrupted.
    “Chit-chat wasn’t part of your instructions. Am I to fetch my own refreshments, leaving the proceedings whenever my thirst is stirred? How does that look to the others?”
    Jana turned, and then quickly lowered her head. It was Ecanus, glowering and angry. He looked her up and down suspiciously, and then moved on to Peter.
    “Is a romantic rendezvous more important than your obligations?” said Ecanus. “You’d have me sit there, parched, while you tend to your own affairs instead of mine?” He spoke of anger, but his face beamed with a perverse joy. He was thriving on Peter’s nervousness, lapping up every bit of it. His wings stretched, imposing and dark. He was small, but he seemed to expand along with them, a bigger and meaner thing than before.
    Peter looked as if he was trying to wedge himself backwards into the wall, hunching his shoulders and projecting a defeated air. He stuttered a “no, sir,” and then mumbled something unintelligible but deferential sounding. It seemed to satisfy Ecanus, but only for a moment.
    “If your needs are more important than mine, I certainly understand. I’m nothing if not forgiving; the Maker taught me that. I’ll even show you a compassion. I believe in teaching by example. You think your desires take priority? Well, then today I’ll be the one to serve you ,” said Ecanus, patting Peter on the shoulder. His smile was warm, and his tone and mannerisms were friendly, but there was a foul glee underneath it all. Peter didn’t seem to catch it. He looked uncertain, then relieved, sending a smile over to Jana intended to reassure her that all was well. She didn’t buy it for a second, and was a bit baffled that he could. But when someone’s found something they’d like to believe in, they’ll shut out all the things they’d rather not.
    “Water! Bring the poor boy some water! Slake his thirst before you turn to mine!” called Ecanus, snapping at one of the servants manning the refreshment station. They were all huddled together behind a table, nerves on edge. A small, brown-haired boy broke from the group and ran to Ecanus with a canteen, almost tripping over himself before finding his feet in the nick of time. The boy handed it to Ecanus, who unscrewed the top and extended it to Peter.
    “Have a drink, then,” said Ecanus. “Don’t be shy. You’re the master today. Your attendant beseeches you, satisfy yourself. Learn what it is to have your needs met by another.” He waited, his face all smiles and his eyes all daggers. Peter thanked him, took a sip, and then screwed the top back on. Peter’s nervousness was leaving him, and he held out the canteen to the boy.
    “You must still be thirsty, child,” said Ecanus. “Have some more. It’s for your health. Go on.” His smile grew a little bigger, and his eyes grew a little nastier. Peter wasn’t thirsty, but he supposed it couldn’t hurt. He unscrewed the cap of the canteen. Again he took a sip, and again he held it out to the boy.
    “Thank you very much, sir,” said Peter. “It’s very refreshing, and I’m ready to resume my duties.”
    “More,” said Ecanus.
    “I’m fine, but I appreciate the kindness,” said Peter. “I never even hoped I’d have a master who would put me before himself.”
    “More,” said Ecanus firmly.
    Peter stood alone, holding the canteen and giving Jana a pleading, confused look. But she couldn’t help him, and couldn’t think of anything to do.