Tala was sitting on a bench outside the entrance to the Third Swordlord’s sanctum. She had delivered her master’s message and the Third Swordlord had sent her out here to wait for his response. From here she could see everything that was going on in the great, open hall. She assumed either the Third Swordlord did not care what she saw or wanted her to see what was happening. She didn’t mind either way. This vast, sunlit space was very different to her own master’s halls and although it was a pleasant place to visit, she was not so certain she would want to be in service here - there were so many angels she could not see how most of them would ever be able to speak with their master as often as she spoke with hers.
“Tala?!” She thought she knew that voice and turned to look. Not one of her cohort-mates stood there but two.
“Jalira and Menifi!” She stood up and smiled at the golden and teal winged female angels. The three of them had received their robes together and their voices had a similar range. For the short space of time before Tala was told for the first time that she did not suit a Choir Master’s requirements they had hoped they might all three be picked for the same choir.
“What are you doing here?” That was Jalira, surprised but pleased.
“And what are you wearing?” Menifi was intrigued. The other two were wearing sandals and robes very like the ones they’d been given when newly created.
“My master sent me here with a message for the Third Swordlord and he bade me wait out here for the reply.” She looked down at what she was wearing. “Menifi, do you mean the trousers or the boots?”
“Both really,” the teal winged angel clarified. “I haven’t seen even the warrior phalanxes wearing boots.”
“My brothers don’t wear them either,” Tala shrugged, “but I got sick and tired of having bushes whip my shins when I came in for a landing.”
“Then land on the paths, not in the garden,” suggested Jalira.
“Oh, it wasn’t a garden,” explained Tala. “I was out in the world carrying out a task for my master and I did a lot of landing and taking off in paddocks and overgrown places.”
Her cohort-mates looked at her with dawning respect. “You carry messages and go out into the world?” Menifi was wide-eyed.
“You don’t?” Tala looked at them and was puzzled.
“We’re not experienced enough,” Jalira told her. “We sing His praises in the Choir, of course, but we don’t have other jobs yet.”
“Our masters must organise the work differently,” said Tala calmly. “So, you sing.”
“Yes.” Both of them beamed with pride then Menifi startled. “Practice! We’ll be late! Sorry Tala, we have to go!” With that the two of them dashed off.
Tala waited till they were out of sight and then sat down again. There might well be much to be learnt in a large Choir, she reflected, but such duties seemed flat compared to her master’s taskings.