“That is good to hear,” Noah said heavily. “We were worried.”
“What is it?” Oholibamah asked. “Is something wrong?”
Japheth’s arm tightened about his wife.
Noah drew Yalith close. “El has spoken. Strange words.”
“Good words?” Yalith asked.
Oholibamah looked at Japheth questioningly, but he shook his head.
“Strange words.” Noah repeated. “I do not know what to make of them.”
“Be happy for Mahlah, Father,” Yalith said. “It was such a hard birth, so long. If it had not been for Oholi—“
“Mahlah will be all right,” Oholibamah said. “She is young and strong and will heal quickly.”
“It is a big baby. Father,” Yalith continued. “It is the biggest baby I have ever seen, with dark hair, like Mahlah’s, and a button of a nose.”
“At least it is a baby.” Noah’s voice was bitter.
“You are upset,” Oholibamah said.
“Yes, I suppose I am upset. El has asked me to do strange things. I do not understand. Great changes are coming. Terrible changes.”
“Japheth—“ Oholibaroah whispered.
“Hush. Later.”
Within the comfort of her father’s arms, Yalith shivered. “But now we can rejoice, Father, because Mahlah has had a safe delivery.”
Noah continued to hold his daughter, pressing his lips against her bright hair. “We did not have a wedding feast for Mahlah. That hurt Matred. I had hoped that we could have a wedding feast for you.”
“Oh, but I hope you will!” Yalith exclaimed. She thought of Mahlah’s strange wedding, and she did not want one like that, isolated from her family and friends. Then she thought of the twins. In their own way, they were as alien as the nephilim and the seraphim, and yet they were human, totally human. And she loved them. She pressed her cheek against her father’s chest, so that she did not see the expression on his face.
Oholibamah did, but before she could speak, Japheth had pulled her to him again in a loving embrace.
A soft whimpering woke the twins. Higgaion had come over to their sleeping skins to summon them.
Sandy opened his eyes. “Higgy, what’s the matter?”
Dennys sat up, abruptly wide awake. “Is it Grandfather Lamech?” He looked at Higgaion, asking, “Should we get NoahP”
“Is Grandfather—“ Sandy could not finish the sentence.
The two boys scrambled across the tent to the old man’s sleeping skins. Grandfather Lamech was breathing in strange, shallow pants. Dennys reached to touch him, and saw the scarab beetle. He felt a surge of relief. Spoke urgently. “Adnarel, we need Admael. If he could be his camel self. he could carry one of us to Noah’s tent far more quickly than either Sandy or I could run.” Dennys gently touched the bronze armor of the scarab beetle, which thinned out and disappeared under his finger, so that he was touching only a corner of the old man’s sleeping skin. Adnarel stood by them, a golden glimmer in the gloom of the tent. “I will get Admael. Wait with Grandfather Lamech.” With one of his swift, graceful gestures, he bowed and went out.
Sandy and Dennys each took one of Grandfather Lamech’s hands, which felt as cold and lifeless as marble. Sandy said, “Adnarel is calling Admael for us. We’ll get Noah for you, as quickly as we can.”
The old man breathed softly. “My good boys.”
Dennys watched Grandfather Lamech’s straining effort to breathe. Gently he put his arm under the small, frail body, easing it into a sitting position. The old man leaned against the boy, and his breathing lightened. “I’ll stay with you. Grandfather.” Dennys looked at Sandy and nodded.
Sandy nodded back.
“I can wait,” the old roan whispered, “until the last star goes out.”
Adnarel returned. He knelt by Grandfather Lamech, examining him gently. He turned to the twins. “Admael is waiting outside. You don’t need to rush. Sand. There will be time.”
Grandfather Lamech gasped. “Until the baboons—“
Adnarel smiled. “Until the baboons clap their hands and shout for joy to welcome the dawn.”
Dennys said, “I’ll stay with Grandfather.”
Adnarel nodded, touching Dennys’s shoulder lightly. “Good. I will be here if you need me.” His bright form misted, swirled softly like fog, and the scarab beetle shone against Higgaion’s ear.
When Dennys had ridden the white camel across the desert, coming from Noah’s tent, he had still been weak from his sunstroke. Sandy was well and strong, and had little difficulty keeping his seat, his body quickly becoming accustomed to the erratically rolling rhythm. They crossed the desert without trouble. On a high outcropping of white rock, a lion stood majestically to watch their progress.
There was no sound around Noah’s tenthold beyond contented snores. Sandy pulled back the flap to the big tent, calling, “Noah!”
It was Matred’s sleepy voice that answered, “Who is it?”
“It’s Sandy. Grandfather Lamech sent me to get Noah.”
“El.” Noah’s voice was deep. “I’ll be right out.”
Sandy stood outside, listening to the sound of night insects mingling with snores from Ham and Elisheba’s tent. He looked up at the sky and the low, blurred stars seemed to be calling him, but he could not understand what they were trying to say.
Noah came out, wearing a fresh loincloth.
“Dennys is with Grandfather,” Sandy said, “and Higgaion.”
Noah nodded.
“Adnarel said there would be time, but you’ll get there faster if you ride the camel alone. I’ll walk back.”
Again Noah nodded, accepting the offer. The camel’s legs were folded under it so that Noah could climb up easily. He sat astride, his work-gnarled fingers gripping the hair at the camel’s neck. The white beast rose slowly, leaned its head on the long, arched neck low enough so that it could nuzzle Sandy softly, then took off, heading for the desert.
Sandy followed slowly. He knew that as soon as Noah reached the tent, Dennys would leave Grandfather Lamech, to allow the old man his last minutes with his son. Dennys would be waiting for him, probably sitting out on the root bench, perhaps with Higgaion to wait with him. But Sandy could not make his feet hurry. He jumped down onto the desert, and sand lapped at his feet. He let it run like water through his toes.
When Grandfather Lamech died, what then? Would it be near time for the flood? Would Sandy and Dennys be allowed to stay in the old man’s tent and take care of his garden and groves?
Asking these questions of the silent stars did nothing to ease the lump of sorrow in his throat. He moved slowly over the sand, stubbed his toe on a hidden rock. Said “Ouch” in a loud voice. Walked on.
On his rock, the lion now lay still, watchful, its ears pricking as Sandy plodded by.
The horizon was touched with a faint rose color. The stars were dimming. The birds were waking in the trees. He thought he heard a sleepy jabbering from the baboons. He turned in toward the oasis. He could not delay his return any longer.
His head was down; he was looking at his feet moving across the sand. He did not notice sounds behind him. Suddenly something noxious was thrown over his head, blinding him. He was picked up roughly, his feet jerked out from under him. Two people were carrying him. The foul-smelling skin over his head was pressed hard against his mouth so that he could not scream. He tried to wriggle out of the clutch of whoever was carrying him, and a fist crashed into his belly, winding him, and something sharp pricked his arm.
10 The Song of the Stars
Yalith left the tent and slipped away, to the desert, to the rock where the great lion lay. He jumped down from the rock as she approached, and she ran to him, flinging her arms around his great ruffed neck, and sobbing, so that her words were barely coherent. “Grandfather Lamech is dying.” Her tears spotted his fur. When her weeping was spent, the great cat’s tongue gently licked her tears away, and then they sat. Yalith between the front paws, in silent communion.
The stars moved in their slow dance, dimmed. Neither lion nor girl moved. But Yalith, leaning against the great tawny chest, hearing the thudding of the lion’s heart in time with the soft singing of the stars, moved into peace.
Outside Grandfather Lamech’s tent, Dennys sat on the old root of the fig tree, Higgaion at his feet. Neither moved. Above them. the stars were quiet.
Within the tent, Noah held his father up so that the old man could breathe.
“My son,” Lamech whispered. “You have been a blessing to me and to the land …”
Noah’s tears rolled quietly down his cheeks, into his beard. “I have been stubborn and stupid—“
A faint laugh came from his father. “I did not say that you are not human. But you listen to El?”
“I try. Father. I try.”
“El has told me that through you shall blessing – – -“ The old man’s breath failed.