Time Quintet 04-Many Waters (27 page)

“Our older sister and our little brother. I mean, the story would be changed.”

Alarid said, “You must go back to your own time.”

“That’s easier said than done. Anyhow, what I wanted to talk to you about is Yalith. Listen, it’s a stupid story.  Only the males have names. It’s a chauvinist story. I mean, Matred has a name. She’s a mother. And Elisheba and Anah and Oholibamah. They’re real people, with names.”

“That is true,” Alarid agreed.

“The nephilim,” Dennys went on. “They’re like whoever wrote the silly ark story, seeing things only from their own point of view, using people. They don’t give a hoot for Tiglah or Mahlah, for instance. They’re just women, so they don’t matter. They don’t care if Yalith gets drowned. But you ought to care!”

Alarid asked gently. “Do you think I don’t care?”

Dennys sighed. “Okay. I know you care. But are you just going to stand by and do nothing and then fly off to the sun?”

Again Alarid’s wings quivered. “Part of doing something is listening. We are listening. To the sun. To the stars. To the wind.”

Dennys felt chastened. He had not paused to listen, not for days. “They don’t tell you anything?”

“To continue to listen.”

The breeze lifted, washed over Dennys in a wave of sadness. “I don’t like this story,” he said. “I don’t like it at all.”

He left Alarid. Before he reached the oasis he paused, sat on a small rock. Tried to quiet himself so that he could listen. To the wind. How could he unscramble the words of the wind which came to him in overlapping wavelets?

He closed his eyes. Visioned stars exploding into life. Planets being birthed. Yalith had spoken of the violence of Mahlah’s baby’s birth. The birth of planets was no gentler. Violent swirlings of winds and waters. Land masses as fluid as water. Volcanoes spouting flame so high that it seemed to meet the outward flaming of the sun.

The earth was still in the process of being created. The stability of rock was no more than an illusion. Earthquake, hurricane, volcano, flood, all part of the continuing creation of the cosmos, groaning in travail.

The song of the wind softened, gentled. Behind the violence of the birthing of galaxies and stars and planets came a quiet and tender melody, a gentle love song. All the raging of creation, the continuing hydrogen explosions on the countless suns, the heaving of planetary bodies, all was enfolded in a patient, waiting love.

Dennys opened his eyes as the wind dropped, was silent.

He raised his face to the stars, and their light fell against his cheeks like dew. They chimed at him softly. Do not seek to comprehend. All shall be well. Wait. Patience.

Wait. You do not always have to do something. Wait.

Dennys put his head down on his knees, and a strange quiet flowed through him.

Above his head, the white wings of a pelican beat gently through the flowing streams of stars.

Work on the ark progressed slowly. In the heat of the sun, his body glistening with sweat, Dennys found it hard to remember his vision of understanding and hope. But it was still there, waiting for him, surfacing during the after-noon rest time, or at night when the sun set and the stars blossomed.

Hammer. Peg. Measure for stress.

Noah insisted on following exactly the directions which were given him.

“This El,” Sandy said to Dennys, “I don’t understand.”

“El knows about shipbuilding,” Dennys said. “The instructions and measurements are pretty much the basic proportions for modern ships. The ark’s not designed for speed, but then, that’s not the purpose.”

“All those animals—Noah’s surely going to have to shovel out a load of manure.”

“I bet nobody around here has ever seen a boat this big. Maybe they’ve never even seen a boat.”

Sandy sought out Yalith, feeling a little disloyal to be going to find her without Dennys, but going, nevertheless.  Dennys had vetoed it when Sandy had suggested taking Yalith with them.

He waited for her, not far from the tentholds, in the quiet that precedes dawn. Saw her coming, pale and wraith-like, from the direction of the desert.

“Yalith.”

She stopped, startled, head up.

“Yalith, it’s Sandy.”

“Oh. Twin Sand.” Relief was in her voice. “What is it?”

He took her hand. “Yalith, what are you going to do?”

“When?”

“When the floods come.”

She spoke in a low voice. “We don’t know for sure that the floods are going to come. It is only what my father says.”

“Yes, but what do you think? Do you believe your father?”

She was barely audible. “Yes.”

“Then what are you going to do?”

“Nothing. This has already given my father and mother much grief. My mother doesn’t understand why El has not called me to be in the ark with the others.”

“I don’t understand it either,” Dennys said flatly.

“But the stars have told me not to be afraid.”

“And you believe the stars?”

“Yes.”

“Well, somebody’s wrong, either your father or the stars.”

“I trust my father. And I trust the stars.”

“Well. Somebody has to do something. I mean, we can’t just sit back and let you get drowned. Would you consider coming home with us?”

She looked at him, startled. “But where is your home?

Is it on the other side of the mountains?”

“On the other side of time,” Sandy said.

Her fingers tightened in his. “You and the Den are leaving?” She answered her own question. “Of course. You have to.  As soon as the ark is built. As soon as the rains start.”

“Will you come with us?”

“With you both?”

“Well—yes.” He would love to go off to the end of the world, alone with Yalith. But he knew that he would not try to leave her world without Dennys.

“Is it many days of travel?”

“We got here sort of instantaneously. I have an idea how we might be able to get home, but first I want to know if you’ll come with us.”

“Oh, twin Sand.” She sighed, long and deeply. “Everything is so strange. Ever since you came, nothing has been the same. Grandfather Lamech is dead. The ark is being built. I don’t want to drown, but—is it very different, where you come from?”

Sandy acknowledged, “Very different. It isn’t nearly as hot, and we have lots of water, so that we can take showers, and drink as much as we want. What I wouldn’t give for a long glass of cold water when we’re hammering away on the ark! And we wear different kinds of clothes.” He looked at Yalith’s small and perfect body, barely covered by the loincloth, her breasts delicate and rosy, and had a moment’s absurd vision of her in one of the classrooms at the regional high school. But wouldn’t anything be better than drowning? “You’ll consider it, won’t you? Coming with us?”

She was solemn. “Of course. It is very hard for me to imagine what it would be like without you and the Den. You are part of me. Both of you.”

Sandy slipped back into the tent, Dennys was awake, waiting for him.

“Where have you been?”

“I asked Yalith to come home with us.”

There was a heavy silence. At last Dennys said. “No. No, Sandy. We can’t take her back with us. I mean, even if we could, we can’t.”

“Why not?”

“She doesn’t have any immunities. Haven’t you noticed, there aren’t any diseases here? Don’t you remember that all the natives at the bottom part of South America got killed by German measles, because they didn’t have any immunities?”

“Couldn’t we give her vaccinations?”

“Not for everything. Even if she caught a cold, an ordinary head cold, it would probably kill her. She doesn’t have any protective antibodies. She couldn’t adjust to our climate. It’s too cold, too damp, It would be murder to try to take her back with us.”

“Then what’s going to happen?”

“I don’t know.”

“If she stays here, she’ll drown. Wouldn’t it be worth the risk to try to take her home with us?”

Dennys shook his head. “How do you think she’d get on with the kids at school?”

“She wouldn’t have to go to school. She’s nearly a hundred years old.”

“And she doesn’t look any older than we do. How would we prove her age to the school authorities? And i£ she is a hundred years old, and we bring her back to our time, what would happen? Would she shrivel all up and be ancient and die of old age?”

“Why are you thinking of all the bad things that could happen?”

“We have to think of them. If we love Yalith.”

“Maybe it would be all right.”

“And maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe what we should do is stay here with Yalith and wait for the flood.”

“I’m not willing to give up that easily.”

“It’s not easily.”

“But we have to do something!”

Maybe, for once, we don’t, Dennys thought. “There’s time yet,” he said. “Maybe something will come to us, but it will have to be something real.”

 “Hey,” Sandy said. “I’m not sure anymore what’s real and what isn’t. I mean, nephilim and seraphim!”

“I believe in a lot more than I used to,” Dennys said. “Even i£ we’re not supposed to change the story, we’re changed, you and I.”

“We are, oh, we are. And what about Yalith?”

“Wait,” Dennys said. He did not tell Sandy about his talk with Alarid. Or what the wind had shown him. Or that the stars had told him to have patience, and wait. Wait.

The new moon was once again a crescent in the sky-Ripened, filled out to a sphere. Dwindled and diminished.  Was born again.

Noah sent Japheth and Oholibamah to warn the people of the oasis of the impending flood.

Ham asked, “What’s the point? They ail know you’re building this big boat. They all know you’re expecting rain out of season.”

Noah was stubborn. “They have a right to be warned. To prepare. And who knows—if they repent, then perhaps El will not send the flood.”

“If there’s no flood,” Ham said, “people will laugh at us even more than they’re laughing now.”

Anah looked troubled. “I do not think the people of my tent will repent, They are very angry.”

Noah said, “They must be given the chance,”

When Japheth and Oholibamah returned from their trip about the oasis, they had been laughed at, spat at. Japheth had an ugly bruise on his cheek where an angrily thrown stone had hit him.

Even Noah and Matred’s older daughters and their husbands had met them with scorn. They laughed at Japheth’s earnest warning, and complained of being made to look like fools because of Noah’s folly. Seerah had thrown a bowl of mash at them and screamed at Oholibamah to leave her alone. “And don’t you come near my babies, you nephil woman.”

Japheth had put his arm protectingly about his wife and taken her away.

Hoglah’s husband had threatened to strangle them if they kept on spreading stories of flood and doom throughout the oasis. “It reflects on us,” he said. “Don’t you see how you’re making us look with this idiocy? Can’t you just keep quiet about Noah’s delusions?”

Japheth and Oholibamah left the oasis, to go home by the desert. Oholibamah began weeping, strangely, quietly.

Japheth stopped, putting his arms around her. “My wife. What is it?”

Oholibamah struggled to stifle her silent tears. Said, “If it is all true, what El has told your father, if there is to be a great flood, then our baby will be born after—“ She choked on her tears.

Japheth’s face lit with delight. “Our—“

Oholibamah leaned her head against his strong shoulder.  “Our baby. Japheth.” Suddenly her tears turned to laughter. “Our baby!”

The result of the attempt to warn the people of the oasis was that now they gathered about the perimeter of Noah’s land.

The desert wind rose hotly. Noah’s eyes were fixed on the ark. He tried to ignore the catcalls and hoots of the mob.

Grimly, Matred heated wine to the boiling point. “I prefer to use it on manticores, but if they try to hurt my husband, I will make them sorry.”

Ham slunk into the tent.

“What are you doing here?” his mother demanded.

“I’m tired of being laughed at.”

Matred spoke fiercely. “You go right back out and help your father.”

“He’s insane.”

“Whatever he is, it’s your place to be with him. And with your wife. She’s not too proud to work, and carrying your child, too.” Matred smiled. There would be three babies coming. She brimmed with joy.

“Can’t you stop him, Mother? He’s a wild man, his eyes blazing, his beard whipped by the wind, his— Can’t you speak to him.”

“I have spoken,” Matred said. “Go out to him. Now.” Reluctantly, Ham went out into the glaring sunlight, the burning wind. The muttering, jeering crowd was larger, as the people of the oasis gathered to stare.

Noah’s hands were black with the pitch with which he was coating the ark.

A stone was thrown. It missed its mark and glanced harmlessly against the dark wood. Sandy and Dennys left the ark and walked with deliberate steps toward the mob of little people. Dennys did not put down the plank he was sanding. Sandy still held the stone he used for a hammer. Neither boy threatened in any way; nevertheless, the people drew back slightly. Sandy spoke in a commanding voice. “No stone throwing.”

Dennys stood as tall as possible, looming over the small men in the foreground of the crowd. “Go home. Back to your tents. Now.” His voice was a deep, man’s voice.

There were advantages in being taken for giants. Slowly, the crowd dispersed.

Yalith sat on her favorite starlit rock, huddled over as though for warmth. She was not aware that Oholibamah had joined her until the other woman put her arm about Yalith’s shoulders.

Tears sprang to Yalith’s eyes. “Twin Sand and twin Den—“ Her voice trailed off-

Oholibamah finished for her. “As soon as the ark is built, they will have to leave. To go to wherever it is they came from.”

Yalith choked down a sob. “Twin Sand has asked me to go with them.”

Oholibamah drew back in surprise. Said, “It is a solution I had not thought of.”

“Then—what do you think?”

Oholibamah looked at the sky, intently, listening. Then she shook her head.

Yalith, too, looked heavenward. “The stars have never told me wrong.”

Oholibamah spoke thoughtfully. “I do not know why it is not the right solution for you to go with our twins. I know only that I hear the stars, and I agree. There is some-thing here that we do not understand. But do you hear the stars? They are telling you not to be afraid.”