EL-HAZARD : MORTAL ENGINES

                        by Alan Harnum

               Chapter Four - The Protecting Veil
           
El-Hazard is a copyright of AIC/Pioneer LDC.  This story, 
however, belongs to me, and I request that you don't publicly
post or archive it without my permission.  

This copy of the story is from my centralized fanfiction archive
at http://www.thekeep.org/~harnums/fanfic.  I can be reached by
e-mail at harnums@thekeep.org

* * *

     Ifurita walked through the grey land.  The sun was not 
visible; a continual pallid overcast rolled and shifted in the 
sky overhead, no holes ever opening in the cloud layer to allow 
her to see whether or not there truly was a sun at all.  An 
ambient twilight seemed to exist, however, though the source of 
it was not visible.

     The terrain was dull and monochromatic; right now, she 
walked through a field of dark grey, almost black, grass.  To 
both sides, mountain ranges as white as ice loomed like fierce 
teeth.  High upon their slopes, she could see towers built of 
steel, or hewn out of the mountainside.

     Her scans had already determined that the air here was 
breathable by human beings, although thinner than on El-Hazard. 
Despite that, she had seen no living things, not even insects or 
small rodents.  This place seemed lifeless as the surface of the 
moons.

     Despite not having her Power-Key with her, she was not 
worried.  Her internal energies would be enough to sustain her in
an active mode for thousands of years, unless she entered a 
combat situation.  Even if she depleted herself to dangerous
levels, she could enter into hibernation, and expend almost no
energy at all.

     Was this Earth, Makoto's world?  It did not seem like it;
then again, the memories he had shared with her were limited.
Perhaps this was merely a place on his planet that he had not 
shown her.

     In the distance, the long grass stirred, but Ifurita felt no
wind.  "Who's there?" she called.  "Show yourself!"  She was not
afraid; even without her Key, she was easily capable of 
destroying any threat.

     The grass rippled again.
     
     Ifurita raised her hands, and as she did, dozens of figures
rose up from their cover in the grass around her and pointed
weapons at her.  Their faces and exposed skin were painted with 
grey streaks the same colour as the grass, and they wore 
form-fitting body armour of some ebony metal.

     Their skin was also a pale blue.
     
     "The Phantom Tribe..." she murmured.  Her scans, taken in 
less than a second, indicated the armour was compositionally
identical to steel.  Their weapons were unknown; the metal of the
bows and spears they held was like nothing she had ever seen, and
the gems studding them gave off humming fields of considerable 
power to her enhanced vision.
     
     It didn't matter.  There were exactly thirty-eight of them,
none further from her than twenty-three feet.  A short-range
plasma burst would kill them all.

     One of them shouted something at her, in a language she did
not understand.  It bore no etymological resemblance to any of 
the El-Hazard languages she was programmed with.  The woman
sounded wary, but not threatening.

     Makoto had set her free from the compunction to kill at the
command of others.  Any blood upon her hands from now on was her
burden to bear, and no one else's.

     Those surrounding her moved, cautiously, a few steps closer.
     
     And Ifurita dropped her hands to her sides and waited to see
what they would do.

* * *

     The caravan of air skimmers soared over the wide path
through the forest, beneath the shading branches of the massive
trees.  Constructed of light hardwoods and metals, they were 
slender and graceful in a way that defied their large size.

     Inside the lead skimmer, Makoto sat amidst the piles of
cushions and stared glumly at the purple wine in his glass, as 
the trees rushed by outside, beyond the railings of the 
open-topped vehicle.

     "You must feel lucky that I requested you ride in my 
personal skimmer," Fatora said from where she sat across from 
him.  A silent serving-maid refilled her wine glass, and she 
slugged it down.  "I'm very interested to hear all about the 
adventures you had while impersonating me."

     Alielle giggled.  "Oh, there were lots of them, Fatora.  
Makoto, tell her about how we first met."

     "Umm... I really can't remember."
     
     "That's okay.  I do."
     
     When Alielle finished telling the story, Makoto's face was
beet-red.  Fatora seemed to be deep in thought for a few moments.
Then she burst out laughing.  Ura, who was curled up in one 
corner of the skimmer and attempting to avoid Fatora's notice,
raised her head curiously.

     Fatora's laughter eventually dissolved into giggles, and she
shook her head.  "I thought you said you didn't cheat on me,
Alielle."

     "I didn't," Alielle protested.  "We just slept together."
     
     Fatora's smile disappeared.  "What?"
     
     "In the same bed!" Makoto burst out.  "Not like... anything
else!  It was too late for her to go somewhere else, and..."

     "Alielle..." Fatora muttered in a voice that practically
dripped icicles.

     "What Makoto said!  I'd never cheat on you, Fatora!"
     
     Fatora turned her gaze back to Makoto.  "Well, probably not
with him.  He's attractive enough for a man, I suppose, although
perhaps a little weak in the chin.  But he's certainly not your
type, is he, Alielle?"

     "Oh, no."  Alielle smiled winsomely at Fatora.  "You're the
only one for me."

     Fatora laughed heartily again, and threw herself back into
the cushions.  Her wine sloshed and almost spilled.  "Mizuhara,
tell me some more about what happened while you were 
impersonating me.  This is the last fun I'm likely to have for a
while.  Once we get to Gannan, I'll have to spend all my time
meeting with the Senate, and they're all insufferably boring.
Most of them are quite stupid as well."

     "I was actually hoping to get some reading done..." Makoto
indicated the stack of books beside him.

     Fatora snorted.  "There'll be plenty of time for 
book-learning once you get to Gannan.  The Radiant Library, if 
it's still standing, is the finest in the land after 
Floristica's.  I seem to recall they had an excellent selection
of erotic poetry from the Zeranian Era..."

     She shrugged.  "But that's boring.  Tell me what happened
after you... met Alielle."  She clapped her hands.  "Serving-
girl!  More wine for my guest."

     "I'm not finished my first cup..."  Makoto trailed away as 
the servant topped up his wine until he was forced to sip some 
or risk it spilling.  The flight of the skimmers was 
exceptionally smooth, but not without the occasional turbulence.

     Princess Fatora seemed to have a most forceful personality.
Even if he wasn't entirely charmed by her, he had to admire 
someone who could undergo such things as she had, and recover so
quickly.

     "Well, even before I met Alielle, there were problems..."
     
     Fatora, he soon discovered, laughed extremely easily, and 
the sound of her laughter wasn't entirely pleasant to the ears.
He didn't really mind this as much as he'd thought he would, but
he still envied Nanami and the others, whatever they were doing
on their own skimmer.

* * *

     "This is boring," Shayla said.  She stood at the railing,
arms crossed, red ponytail whipping in the wind as the skimmer
flew.  

     Afura, seated beneath the shade of the propulsion sail, 
looked up from her book.  "So why don't you get out and walk?"

     Shayla decided to ignore the barb.  "How long will it take
to get to Balam?"

     "Half the day," Afura replied.  "We should arrive by
nightfall."     
     
     "Well, I think it's interesting," Nanami answered.  "It's
strange.  You don't have cars or televisions, or some of the
basic things we have on Earth, but you do have machines like
these, which we don't."

     "It's merely a simple anti-grav suspension array combined
with basic second-generation Lidaean propulsion sail technology,"
Afura explained.

     "Oh," Nanami replied.  She gripped the railing with her
hands and leaned forward over the edge of the skimmer, smiling as
the wind ran over her face and ruffled her hair.

     "Be careful, Nanami," Fujisawa called nervously.  "Don't 
lean out too far."

     "Fujisawa-sensei, when are you going to stop worrying about
us?" Nanami asked with a grin.  "We're not in Shinonome any 
longer.  We're not even on Earth."

     "A teacher's duty to his students extends through all
boundaries, even those of time and space.  Are those grapes, 
Miz?"

     "Actually, they're pickled jubari eggs."
     
     "What's a jubari?"
     
     Miz pointed to the flying lizards flitting from tree to tree
above their heads.  "Those are."

     "Oh."  Fujisawa popped on into his mouth from the dish and
chewed.  "Salty.  But not bad."

     "Want something to wash it down with?"
     
     "Just water."
     
     "Just water?"
     
     Fujisawa nodded.  Miz put down the wine jug with a frown.
     
     Shayla sidled up to Nanami.  "So, how's Makoto doing?"
     
     "How should I know?"
     
     "You've talked to him," Shayla replied softly.  "He hasn't
said more than two words to me at a time since Ifurita went into
the Eye of God."

     Nanami sighed.  "He's hurting pretty bad, I think."
     
     Shayla nodded glumly.  "Well, I don't have any ideas of what
to do.  Do you?"

     Nanami shook her head in reply.  
     
     "I guess the best thing to do is wait," Shayla said.  "Until
he accepts it."

     "Accepts what?"
     
     "That Ifurita isn't coming back."
     
     "And what then?" Nanami asked, with a hint of acid in her
voice.  "One of us moves in to help mend his broken heart?"

     "Is that what you think of me?" Shayla hissed.  
     
     Nanami lost the anger in her tone.  "Give up, Shayla.  
Didn't you see those books he had?"

     "Books?"
     
     "You have to pay attention to little details like that." It
wasn't entirely true; Nanami had just been in the right position
to read the spines, and had remembered all the titles.  "They're
all about the ancient technologies or dimensional travel.  He's
going to try to find her."

     "Find her?"  Shayla's eyes went wide.  "He's crazy, then.
The Eye of God could have hurled her anywhere, into any 
dimension.  That's a big area to search."

     "Yeah," Nanami agreed.  "But that doesn't mean he isn't
going to try."

     Simultaneously, both of them sighed.
     
     "We're pretty pathetic, aren't we," Shayla said.
     
     "Yeah," Nanami agreed.
     
     Afura turned a page of her book, listened, and smiled.
     
* * *

     "Impressive."
     
     Hands on his hips, Jinnai tilted his head back and stared at
the large waterfall cascading from between the jagged rocks of 
the Fangs of God.  Misty spray bedecked the shattered boulders 
that lined the basin of the waterfall.  Behind the falling sheets
of water, the deep, dark mouth of a cave could be vaguely made 
out.  

     "It is one of the Twelve Natural Wonders of El-Hazard," Deva
commented from where she stood beside him.  "One of only three to
survive the Holy Wars."

     "How interesting," Jinnai said, not interested at all.  
"When El-Hazard is ours, we will engage in a program of 
restoration."

     "How can you restore natural wonders?" Deva asked, sounding
confused.

     Jinnai shrugged.  "I'll invent some way."
     
     A few hundred feet downstream, away from the surgings of the
waterfall, twenty Bugrom linked arms while floating on the 
river.  Their carapaces cracked open, and they began the process 
of transforming themselves into a boat.

     Groucho tapped Jinnai on the shoulder and grumbled a 
question.

     "We'll leave when I say we will," Jinnai replied.  He looked
at his left wrist, and then remembered he wasn't wearing a watch,
and that there wasn't any specific time he was waiting for 
anyway.

     "The boat is ready," Deva said.
     
     Jinnai glanced back.  So it was.  It wasn't one of the 
larger troop-carrying vessels, like the ones they'd used in the
plan on the Forbidden Island; merely a small, low-keeled vessel
with a shoulder-high railing around the deck.  Hopefully there'd
at least be a small cabin for him to rest in.

     "Get aboard," he ordered his attendant Bugrom.  Groucho,
Harpo, Chicho, Zeppo, Gummo and Margaret--he'd had fun naming
them--walked off as commanded. 

     He turned to Deva.  "Deva?"
     
     She didn't seem to want to look at him.  "Yes, Mister
Jinnai?"

     "I may have spoken harshly to you earlier this morning," he
said stiffly.  "I wanted to apologize."  Frankly, it bothered him
to have to appeal to the programmed emotions of a machine, but 
Deva had been moody since their conversation in the rain, and a
moody Bugrom Queen didn't seem like a good idea.  If it came down
to it, he wasn't sure if he could lead the Bugrom without Deva's
tacit support.

     Deva turned her head and regarded him warily.  "I accept
your apology."

     "I have never had such visions as these before," he said.
"They have put me under stress.  I will not speak to you in such
a way again."

     "I would hope not."
     
     There was still a wounded note in her voice.  He was going 
to have to tread more carefully in the future; he'd obviously
been too forceful this time.  

     "Allies again?" he asked.
     
     "We are always allies," Deva replied coolly.  "It is whether
we can be more than merely... allies."

     Jinnai hid his smile.  If she was flirting with him again,
it meant things were back to normal.  

     "Perhaps we can," he murmured.  "Perhaps we can."
     
     The air suddenly seemed to grow brighter, as though the sun
had emerged from behind the clouds.

     Jinnai looked up, and saw two angels perched upon the Fangs
of God.  They had hair so pale it was nearly white, and their
skin was the colour of fresh milk.  Their robes were of samite as
unto snow.  One held a flaming sword, and the other a flaming
spear.  The dew of the rain-wet grass sparkled in the light that
emanated from them.  They were beautiful and terrible.  They were 
like him--messengers of God.  Great white wings unfurled from 
their backs, as if they would scrape the sky itself.  Beams of 
light flew from their feathers and transfixed him where he stood.
     
     "Katsuhiko, what are you looking at?"
     
     No words could escape his lips.  He stared at the angels;
already they were becoming translucent, and now transparent.  
Then they were gone altogether.  Their light remained for a
moment longer than they did, and then it too vanished.

     "Katsuhiko?"
     
     "It's time to go now," he said.
     
* * *

     Mardruk slept, and, while he slept, he dreamed.  Demon-Gods
had not been designed to dream.  That had been a side-effect of
designing them with consciousness and a limited ability for
self-direction.  The creators had taken great pride in making
each of them unique, with its own distinct personality, knowledge
and abilities--even a sense of gender.

     Mardruk could discuss Classical and Modern Dasimian Poetry
with more knowledge than any scholar.  He could hold forth on any
of Shanhassim the Great's two hundred and thirty-seven major 
proofs for the existence of God, and discourse reasonably well on
more than half of the twenty-six thousand and four minor ones.  
He was a master player of all games of abstract strategy that 
had been in existence during his day.

     And when he was commanded by the Holy Patriarch of Dasim, he
would kill until he was told to stop.

     All his dreams before had been of war.  He had known no
other dreams.  Of what else could a slave--not merely by 
circumstance, but by nature--dream but of his slavery?

     Now his dreams were dreams of flight.  Not of battles in the
air.  Until the coming of Ifurita, he had been unchallenged 
there; and yet somehow, they had forgotten to design him with a
love of battle, or of killing.  Or perhaps they had, and he had
lost it along the way.  Perhaps he had acquired the sixty-seventh
major proof: the occasional and unexpected compassion of man
towards those whom he believes himself to hate.

     Flight, in skies without enemies.  Sometimes Ifurita flew
beside him.  He had seen her in Makoto's memories, and knew that
she was free.  There was no hate in him for her, his destroyer--
not now, now that he had seen that, like him, she had been a mere
slave.

     He loved her, because Makoto did, and he had to love what
Makoto loved, for he loved Makoto, who had set him free.

     Mardruk slept, and dreamt of flight.
     
* * *
     
     Sounds of hammering and sawing echoed throughout the entire
harbour district, as the citizens of Balam worked to repair the
damage the Bugrom had done during their invasion.  Workers 
strolled through the narrow streets between the warehouses lining
the waterfront with tools in hand, and the shoppers had begun to
return to the bazaars, markets and shops near the docks.

     Makoto watched the ships moving slowly up and down the 
meandering vastness of the Holy River of God, coming in from or 
going out to the southern estuary that lay between the Holy River
and the Sea of Tears.  Sea birds with broad, speckled wings 
flapped overhead.  From the walkway near the top of the sea wall 
that protected the low-lying southern side of the city from 
storms, the view was excellent.

     "It's as nice as you said, Nanami."
     
     Nanami touched his elbow and pointed.  "You can see the
Senate Dome from here.  And the towers of the Radiant Library."

     Makoto looked back and watched the workers moving on the
golden top of the Senate Dome.  From this distance, they looked
like ants.  "What a shame.  An architectural wonder like that,
damaged by the Bugrom."

     Alielle's voice perked up, "They're going to repair it."
     
     Makoto smiled, a bit sadly.  "I suppose.  But they can't put
it back the way it was.  I read about the Senate Dome in the 
books in the library; the engravers who did the designs are all
long-dead."

     Far below, the waves broke gently against the sea wall.  
Nanami stared at them with a frown.  "It's my stupid brother's 
fault."

     No one said anything for a while.  Makoto turned his eyes to
the towers of the Radiant Library, one of which had been knocked
down by a catapult shot during the Bugrom invasion.  It was
obvious that Jinnai's war had been one of conquest rather than
annihilation.  The city that Ifurita had destroyed had been a
'warning shot', as it was, an attempt to force a quick victory.
His stomach twisted, as it did every time he thought about the 
lives lost.  

     "Aren't you glad we got you out of that dusty library?"
Shayla asked.  She was a little farther away from him than Nanami
and Alielle, hands clasped behind her back as she stared out at 
the sea.

     "I guess it is good for me to get out," Makoto agreed after
a moment.  A day in the Radiant Library, reading both the books 
from Roshtaria and those he could find here, had produced
absolutely nothing beyond speculations he could have made
himself.  Everyone from historians to scientists to theologians
had theories on how the Eye of God worked, but no one seemed to
have hard facts.

     "It was Shayla's idea."  Alielle threw her arms around
Shayla's waist.  "You're so clever, Shayla."

     "Ahh!  Get off me!"
     
     Alielle giggled.  "Don't be so mean, Shayla."
     
     Nanami walked a few steps away, and Makoto followed.  Ura,
who had been watching the birds from a perch atop the sea wall,
jumped down and paced alongside their feet.  "I see it didn't 
take Alielle too long to forget about Fatora."

     Nanami laughed.  "Guess not."
     
     Behind them, Shayla was attempting to pry Alielle off.  
"Damn it, don't cling to me like that!  Hey!  What are you 
doing!"

     "Isn't this fun, Shayla?"
     
     "No!"
     
     "When are we supposed to meet the others for lunch?" Makoto
asked.  

     Nanami shaded her eyes with her hands and peered towards the
tall clock-tower near the Radiant Library.  "About a half-hour.
We should start heading back now."

     "What about Shayla and Alielle?"
     
     "They'll follow us."
     
     They walked down from the causeway that led from the sea
wall to the town itself.  As Nanami had predicted, Shayla and
Alielle followed, although Shayla had to endure Alielle clinging
to her arm the whole time.

     The streets near the sea wall were crowded, and smelt of
salt and fish.  Nanami seemed to know her way around them
remarkably well for only having been in the city two days.  There
seemed to be an unusual number of beggars on the streets, 
probably because of the recent war.  Makoto tried not to look at
the needy faces--too much needed him already.

     "You'll like this place, Makoto.  It's down by the harbour;
the seafood is great."

     They walked through the tangled city, until the streets
began to open up a little, and entered the upscale harbour
district.  Shops with bright awnings lined the streets, and the
crowds had already begun to come back.  Here the harbour was 
divided into three sections: on the far side it was reserved for
boats going upstream, in the centre for those travelling 
downstream towards the sea, and on the near side it was devoted 
to small pleasure boats.  Cafes lined the streets, many of them
still showing signs of damage from the Bugrom invasion.

     "We there yet?" Ura asked.
     
     "Just about," Nanami replied.  Shayla and Alielle were a few
steps back, attracting attention from passers-by as Alielle
attempted to express her affection and Shayla attempted to get
her to stop expressing it.

     They walked down a flight of white wooden steps that looked
freshly-painted.  Halfway down, Nanami suddenly stopped, so
quickly Makoto ran into her and nearly knocked her over, almost
dropping the Power-Key staff as he did.  He caught her by the
elbow to steady her.  "What's wrong, Nanami?"

     Shayla and Alielle had caught up to them now.  "What's going
on?"

     Nanami pointed to a seemingly random boat out on the 
harbour.  "What do you guys see there?"

     "A boat," Shayla answered.  "Now what's going on?"
     
     "Alielle, do you know where the restaurant is where we're
supposed to meet the others?"
     
     "Yes, Nanami, but what's wrong?"
     
     Makoto was beginning to worry.  "Yeah, what is it?"
     
     "Run and get Miz and Afura and Fujisawa-sensei as fast as
you can," Nanami said, not paying attention to either him or
Shayla.  "My brother just went down the middle of the river in a
boat full of Bugrom."

* * *

     From where he sat atop the roof of the boat's cabin, Nahato
watched Balam roll past.  Down on the deck, Queen Deva and her
Bugrom stared anxiously at the city and the other boats, as if
expecting at any moment to be spotted.  

     Jinnai didn't seem worried at all.  He stood at the prow of
the boat, arms crossed, seeming to believe himself the lord of
all he surveyed.  For an entire day now, Nahato had been forced 
to listen to the deranged imbecile ranting to Deva about being 
chosen by God, and other insanity.  

     It struck Nahato as mildly ironic that Jinnai apparently had
been chosen by a god, although surely not the one he believed.
He and Lemulla had rested in shifts, one of them awake at all 
times so as to be able to cloak the boat in the illusion of being
a Dorusian trade vessel.  

     Like the time before he had helped Katsuhiko Jinnai, Nahato
didn't know the reasons.  But he did it all the same.  The Lord 
of Deeper Shadows was his master now, just as Gallus had been,
and he loved him, just as much as he had loved Gallus.

     *More,* a voice whispered inside his head.  *You shall love
me above all things.*

     "Yes, my lord," he said quietly, closing his eyes.  Sitting
beside him, Lemulla heard, and touched his head lightly.  

     "You see now, don't you child?" she said.  "You see how
wonderful his darkness is?"

     Nahato nodded, almost overcome with emotion.  He had never
felt so loved, so whole, as he did now.  "Why did I ever doubt?"
he asked.

     The parchment-skinned fingers stroked his brow, gentle as 
the touch of a feather.  "Not all are chosen to feel his touch," 
Lemulla said.  "I had always hoped that Gallus would be, that I
would be able to show him the truth..."

     "Why?"
     
     "Because he is my son."
     
     Nahato froze.
     
     "He never told you?"
     
     "No."
     
     "Not one for pillow talk, I suppose."
     
     He said nothing.
     
     "I know what my son was."
     
     On the deck, Jinnai was espousing to Queen Deva about 
God-given destiny, ruling the world, and related topics.  Once in
a while, he laughed.

     Nahato sighed.  "He was always very gentle.  He never hurt
me."

     *Did you like it?*
     
     He didn't realize that Lemulla had not been the one speaking
until he had answered.  "Some of it."

     "What?"
     
     "Nothing."
     
     Inside his head, he felt something smile, although it had no
face.

     Then he saw her.  It felt as though a line had been drawn
between the two of them, as though everything else had faded out.
The girl who could see through illusions, whose throat he had
held a knife to upon the Eye of God, stood upon white steps near 
the edge of the harbour, watching the boat go by with wide eyes.

     "Oh, shit," he said.
     
* * *

     Jinnai knew the angels had returned--had made themselves
visible again, at least--even before he turned around and saw 
them standing on the deck behind him.  He had thought his dream
of the night before to be metaphorical or symbolical in nature--
the appearance of actual angels had been a surprise to him, but
not nearly as surprising as he would have expected.  Had he not
been so utterly confident in his position as the messenger of 
God, he probably would have been suspicious.

     Up close, their divine radiance was so bright it was hard to
look at them clearly.  By the way that Deva and the Bugrom
averted their eyes, he knew that they too could now see them.

     They looked like a young child and a beautiful woman,
wrapped in light and flame, with gigantic wings.  The boy held a
flaming sword, the woman a flaming spear.  When the woman spoke, 
her voice sounded like a bell.

     "Your foes are here, chosen one."  And she pointed with her
sword.

     Jinnai turned his head, and saw Makoto Mizuhara, his foe and
rival.  He absently noted his sister and the bitchy fire-
priestess were with him.  
     
     "Well, you're my angels," he said.  "You've got the flaming
weapons.  Go kill him, and we'll be done with it."

     The angels did not move.
     
     "Go on," he ordered.  "Who's the messenger of God here, me
or you?"

     The boy angel took a step to the side, as if in 
preparation to launch himself from the side.  The female one
looked almost surprised for a moment, and put her hand on his
shoulder.

     "We cannot do such a thing," she said, turning her gaze back
to Jinnai.  "It is against the orders of God."

     "Fine," Jinnai snapped.  "Groucho!  Zeppo!  Go and take care
of him!"

     Groucho and Zeppo, busily huddling in a terrified pile with
their siblings and hiding their faces from the angels, didn't 
move.

     "It would probably be best if we got out of here, Mister
Jinnai," Deva commented.  "They could make trouble."

     Jinnai cackled.  "Why?  We're shielded by the hand of God,
don't forget."

     Deva closed her eyes.  The antenna-like hairs sprouting from
the centre of her forehead twitched slightly.  "Yes," she said,
half-wearily.  "The hand of God."

     Jinnai looked back to where Makoto stood.  Or had stood; he
was at the bottom of the steps now.  Nanami, he saw, was pointing
almost directly at him.

     He turned his eyes back to the angels and sighed wearily.
"You're new at this, or something, aren't you?"

END OF CHAPTER FOUR