Micaiah scrambles out of bed and into clothes with astonishing speed.

Micaiah finds somewhere to sit—a corner of floor will do—and closes his eyes, and listens.

Their timeslot ends; they conclude the song with an improvised handoff to the next group, and Isabella trots over towards Micaiah. Elisha calls, "See you around, I promised to go visit Abel," and takes off. (Visiting Abel does not sound like a source of joy in his life.)

"Who's Abel?" he wonders.

"His son. Probably. Abel isn't an angel, so it's hard to be sure, but he looks more like Elisha than like the other possibilities," says Isabella, sounding resigned.

"Um..." says Micaiah.

"I think things will improve in a few years. Elisha just doesn't seem to... see the point of babies, when they can't talk yet, let alone sing," Isabella says apologetically. "It was the same with his brothers when they were babies, and he likes them both very much now. And Abel's mother is nice as angel-seekers go."

"That's better," he says doubtfully. "I just... I feel like you should either love your kids, or give them to somebody who will and then leave 'em alone."

"There used to be much more of a problem in that department before the angelica Rachel. She and Gabriel set up a sort of a school system that now has branches near each angel hold and it absorbs... strays," says Isabella. "I think about it sometimes, but I'm not sure what else to do. The angel population is a real problem. Gabriel started his tenure with barely a hundred angels flying around Samaria, because the entire contingent of Windy Point died - some of poison when they wouldn't follow Raphael, some by thunderbolt when they did and he challenged Jovah - and we still haven't gotten back up to the numbers we had before that in all the intervening generations. The angel-seekers are willing, angels like Elisha are willing - and the mortal children are - not an easily avoidable consequence of all this willingness," she shrugs helplessly. "If the mothers of angels weren't honored and welcomed into the holds, I'm sure fewer would try to join their ranks, but then there would be fewer angels."

"So what are you gonna do about that?" he asks with a quirk of a smile.

"...About... there not being enough angels, you mean...?"

"Yeah, that's about where I was going with that," he agrees.

"Do you want to try?"

"I have... mixed feelings about... timing. I have a lot that I want to do. And really, the hold is set up so that having the baby is all anyone expects a mother of a winged child to do. If I make a little angel and for some reason I then want to spend all my time tearing around doing this and that and don't feel like parenting, no one's going to say a word against me, there's no shortage of people intensely concerned with the future of angelkind who'll take over. But that doesn't feel right to me. And I don't know when I'll ever have less to do."

"If we have kids, I can be there for 'em when you can't," he says. "Unless I turn out to hate 'em; then I'll just get out of the way."

"Yes, but - I don't know. If Charles had had to raise me half by himself, with Rinnah - doing - whatever? I wouldn't have liked that. I mean, of course she travels, all angels travel, but she didn't neglect me, she often took me along. And sometimes I think I'm so busy, that I arrange to be so busy as a matter of habit, that I would wind up being neglectful." She sighs. "Histories can tell me all kinds of things about politics. They can't tell me much about how all the movers and shakers handled their children, privately."

"While I'm still promised several days of no assignments I'm going to - fly to Sinai and see where Alleluia sends me," Isabella says obliquely. "After grabbing some breakfast. Are you going to be bored? Do you want me to fly you to Velora - and leave you one of my bracelets - so you have someplace less repetitive to wander around in? You'll be able to climb back up the stairs if you're bored before I return," she adds, "it'll just take longer than flying."

"I'll stay here," he decides. "And go use the music rooms, they're fun."

"Okay. Did you figure out how to work the machines or do you want me to show you first?" she asks, starting for the kitchens; she didn't mind singing for an hour on an empty stomach but it has emphatically become breakfast time.

"I'll figure it out," he says confidently.