They walked uphill in silence for a while. Eventually he pointed ahead to a large figure seated beneath a sheltering pavilion. The form appeared human-shaped even to his eyes, but the strangely diminished surroundings betrayed the fact that it was at least four times larger than the norm. A fierce, androgynous beauty marked the nonhuman face that, though strong, showed no emotion, neither joy nor sorrow. The bronze-and-gold skin glowed with near-painful intensity, as did the bright white cloud of hair and the white cloth that wrapped about the waist and poured over a shoulder with a fall that was smoother than silk, heavier than wool. The surrounding air sizzled and shimmered with a variety of colors, the light fracturing and fragmenting against some unseen border and giving the impression of overhanging wings, wings of stained glass come alive.

Chance held Miranda’s right hand firmly in case she bolted, but she continued to walk forward, though with a dazed and disbelieving expression. At last the angel turned and looked at her, and she fell to her knees with an inarticulate gasp of terror and awe.

Chance tried to hold her up, distressed at her reaction, and chided the angel. “Can’t you be a little gentler, Uriel? She’s already had a lot to take in.”

Uriel spoke mildly, as if to compensate for their overwhelming appearance. “Stand up, Miranda.”

It did not help. Shivering, overcome, Miranda was not even able to look up. Uriel sighed, then gently clasped Miranda’s left arm between two huge fingers and a massive thumb. With a gentle tug, they set her on her feet. Miranda briefly grasped one of the fingers as it withdrew and stared in wonder at her hand, tiny like a newborn’s wrapped around a parent’s finger.

“Your briefcase,” said the angel. “Don’t let go of it.”

The oddly pragmatic request woke Miranda from her daze, and she looked instead at the brown leather, scratched and worn, that represented her own familiar world in this strange place.

“I . . . I won’t,” she managed to answer. “But, why—”

The angel interrupted her, anticipating. “You are here because we are detaining a man on the path to immortality.”

Miranda shook her head, perplexed, and Chance smiled, understanding her puzzlement. Like a triple echo, the words have detained and will detain vibrated through the statement.

“All that he is and all that he has done is within that briefcase,” Uriel continued.

Miranda understood at last and frowned. “But then why didn’t you stop him?” she asked.

“That was/is/will be your task, and his.” Uriel inclined their head to Chance, who bowed in acknowledgment. “We are here only to observe.”

“And to impress upon us the seriousness of the task,” Chance added dryly.

“And that,” agreed Uriel, calm as ever.

“What do I have to do?” Miranda asked. Her expression was somewhere between wonder and worry at the unexpected assignment.