Shem saw that Dennys had finished his broth, and nodded. He reached for one of the tall spears leaning against the inner wall of the tent. Hefted it. Offered it to Dennys. Dennys took it, though he had never used a spear. Shem checked his small quiver of blow darts, then reached for a second spear, and nodded at Dennys, not speaking. The boy followed the short, stocky man out of the tent, feeling a little hope. There was something about Shem that gave him confidence.
Noah said. “Japheth and I will search the paths of the oasis.”
Ham said, “Anah and I will go to the marketplaces.”
Matred spoke too cheerfully,“If the Sand returns to the tent, which seems likely, we will let everybody know.”
Shem and Dennys pushed out of the tent flap. The stars were dimming. Light tinged the eastern horizon. Heat was already beginning to shimmer in watery mirages on the desert. Dennys had on one of Matred’s woven hats and hoped it would be adequate once day broke.
Shem looked at him. “Once the sun is high, you must go back to the tent.”
Dennys nodded. Shem, like Japheth, was right about that. Already his skin was prickling from heat as well as anxiety. He tried to keep himself from imagining what might have happened to his twin. He followed Shem. Followed. The heat bore down. The futile searching seemed interminable. After what must have been several hours he asked, “Where’s Higgaion?”
Shem said, “He will spend the day mourning at Grandfather Lamech’s grave. Then he will come to us. Setah will help lighten his grief.”
“Higgaion scents for water.” Dennys said with sudden hope. “Do you think he could scent for Sandy?”
Shem leaned on his spear, thinking. “Mammoths are strange creatures. They can do strange things. Let us try.”
Shem strode off. He walked at a rapid pace, but Dennys, with his much longer legs, could easily have outstripped him and had to hold himself back. Grandfather Lamech’s burial cave was about halfway between his tent and Noah’s, and the sun was rising by the time they reached it. Higgaion was stretched out on the sand. His fan-like ears lifted at the approaching footsteps.
Dennys hurried to him. “Higgy, do you think you could scent for Sandy, the way you scent for water?”
The mammoth’s little eyes had been shadowed with grief. Now they brightened. Shem dropped to his knees by Higgaion, bending down toward him in intimate communication, speaking softly.
The mammoth raised his trunk in a small, hopeful trumpet.
Dennys’s eyes, too. were hopeful. “Oh, Shem, what could have happened to him?”
Shem’s voice was heavy. “Some people are wicked, and the imagination of their hearts is only to do evil.”
“What about Grandfather?” Dennys asked.
Shem stroked his beard in a gesture much like Noah’s. “Grandfather knew. There is much wickedness. It, too, smells. You do not smell wicked. Den, nor does the Sand. Grandfather said that there is a great warmth in your hearts, and that is a pleasing smell.” It was the longest speech Shem had ever made.
“Thank you,” Dennys said. Then: “Let’s go.”
Shem shook his head, glancing up at the sun. “I thought we would have found him by now.”
“Come on,” Dennys urged.
“Den, I have hunting to do if we are to eat tonight.”
“But—“
“My sisters and their families ate hugely, did you notice?”
Funeral baked meats, Dennys thought angrily.
“Den, we must eat if we are to have strength for whatever—“
Dennys turned to Higgaion. “Come on, Higgy.”
“Den. I hunt best alone. But I will continue to search for the Sand. Find Japheth.”
“But he’s—“
“He and Father will be searching near the tent. Do not go off with Higgaion alone. It is not safe.”
Dennys looked at Shem’s anxious face. Not safe. Not safe, because whatever had happened to Sandy might happen to Dennys…
“We will not stop until we find him,” Shem said. “Go find Japheth. You and Higgaion.”
Noah sat in the big tent, cross-legged, his elbows on his knees, his head bent down to his hands. Matred came and sat beside him.
“I don’t know where he is,” Noah said. “Where he could be.”
“Rest, husband,” Matred urged. “He will be found.”
Noah nodded. “My heart is heavy. I grieve for my father.”
“He was an old man, full of years,” Matred consoled him.
“The Sand is not.”
“You think something has happened to him?”
“Why else would he not have joined me at my father’s tent? He is not like the young men of the oasis, thinking of nobody but themselves.”
“He and the Den are not like anybody else,” Matred said. “We do not know that something terrible has happened.”
Noah did not reply, nor did he look at her. “And I must begin to build the ark.”
Matred said, “El has never before asked you to do anything wild.”
“Is it so wild? If the rains cover the earth, as he says they will, it will not be a wild thing to have an ark.”
“The rains had better not cover the earth for a while,” Matred said. “You have to build the ark, find all the animals.”
“I will begin right away.”
“And you will be laughed at. You will be the big Joke of the oasis.”
“I do not find it amusing,” Noah said. “My father is dead. The Sand is El knows where.”
“Why don’t you ask El?”
“I have. El says only that 1 must begin to build the ark. El says nothing about the Sand.”
“Or the Den?”
Noah grunted in agreement.
“Will you bring them onto the ark?”
“Of people, only you, and our sons, and their wives. No more.”
“Yalith—“ Matred started, but stopped as two men came, unannounced, through the open tent flap.
Tiglah’s father and brother.
11 Many Waters Cannot Quench Love
Yalith went out into the desert. She was anxious, and anything but sleepy. She wanted to fling herself into Matred’s lap and sob, as though she were still a little girl. She wanted to cry herself to sleep.
But she was no longer a little girl, and her eyes felt dry and burning. She was not used to being out at this time of day. She was not sure what drew her to the desert, because there was no hope that she might see Aariel. He would be in his cave, sleeping.
Nevertheless, she walked in that direction, and as she approached she was amazed to see him lying in the shadows at the mouth of the cave. Although she was certain it was Aariel, she was cautious. She had been certain that it was Aariel when the lion turned into the dragon/lizard Ebtis.
She whispered, “Aariel—“
The lion rose, stretched, yawned, then paced toward her.
“Oh, Aariel!” She flung her arms about the tawny neck, though her tears were spent. “We don’t know where the Sand is! Grandfather Lamech sent him to get my father. The Sand knew that Grandfather was dying, so he gave the camel to my father so that he could get back to Grandfather Lamech in time, and the Sand said that he would walk back. And Grandfather died, and everybody was thinking about him, and we didn’t even notice, at first, that the Sand was not with any of us, and then we had to bury Grandfather, and—oh, oh, Aariel, we don’t know what has happened—“
Aariel let her talk. When her voice faded and she pressed her face once again into his fur, he transformed slowly, gently, until she was enfolded in his wings. “Higgaion has gone to scent for him.”
“He left Grandfather’s grave?”
“For the living, yes. The Den and Japheth will go with him.”
“Oh, that’s good, I’m glad, I’m glad. Higgaion will be sure to find him, and Japheth will know what to do, and the Den, too.”
Aariel drew her into the shade of the entrance to his cave. “Aariel—my father is going to build a boat, an enormous boat.”
“That is wise,” Aariel said gravely.
“For my brothers and their wives. For animals of every kind.”
“Yes, to preserve the species.”
“But not for my sisters, Seerah and Hoglah and their husbands and children. Not for Mahlah and her nephil baby. Not for—not for me.”
Aariel drew her close. “Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it.” His voice was calm, gentle.
“What about the twins?” Again her eyes filled.
The seraph’s arm was strong as it held her. “I do not know.”
“But you know that El told my father to build an ark?”
“Yes. That I know.”
“But you don’t know about the twins?”
“We do not have to know everything.”
“But you could ask—“
“We have asked.”
“Are the stars silent, too?”
“The stars are silent.”
“Aariel, I’m afraid.”
“Fear not. I will hold you,” he promised.
“I am more afraid for the Sand and the Den than I am for myself. I love them.”