Oholibamah’s voice was sharp. “What about Yalith?”
Noah shook his head sorrowfully.
Shem protested, “But it’s going to be a big boat, Father! Surely there’s room for more than just the eight of us.”
“Animals,” Noah repeated, “of every kind, so that, when the flood waters abate, there will be both animal and human beings to repopulate the earth.”
“I don’t believe any of this,” Ham said. “But if it should come to pass, I will give my place on the ark to Yalith.”
Oholibamah looked at him in grateful surprise.
“Nonsense,” Anah said. “When you build this ark, and nothing happens, how are you going to face everybody?”
Noah stroked his beard. “I obey El.”
“And our twins?” Oholibamah asked. “What about them?”
“And where is the Sand?” Elisheba asked.
“Japheth and the Den will surely find him,” Noah said. Selah raised her trunk and bugled. “And if they do not return with the Sand by sunrise, I will change my mind. I will give them the vineyards. When the flood waters abate, I will plant new vines.”
Ham said, wonderingly, “You really believe that there is going to be a flood! We don’t have enough rain, even in the spring, to be any use. If it weren’t for our wells, there would be no oasis.”
Shem asked, “Has our father ever made a fool of himself before?”
“No,” Anah replied. “But there’s always a first time.”
* * *
Admael the white camel crossed the length of the oasis to where Sandy was imprisoned. It was at the farthest end of the oasis, as far from Noah’s tent in one direction as was Grandfather Lamech’s in the other. Admael did not go up to the tent, but folded himself down on the ground a few yards away, to wait.
Adnachiel the giraffe grazed on some tender leaves, stretching his long, golden neck. High up in the tree, sleeping during the daylight hours, sat Akatriel the owl, his head hunched into his feathers.
Together they waited.
* * *
Japheth and Dennys followed Higgaion, who trotted, zigzagging back and forth, from the outlying edges of the oasis to the desert, scenting, shaking his head so that the heightening sun glinted against his curved tusks, scenting. Back and forth. Into the oasis. Onto the desert.
“The sun is high,” Japheth said. “You must find shade, Den.”
Dennys shook his head, stubbornly. His body gleamed with sweat.
Japheth looked at him with concern. “We’re not far from Grandfather Lamech’s tent. Perhaps we’ll find Adnarel there, and we could ask him for help.”
Relieved, Dennys panted, “Fine.” Higgaion was staggering with exhaustion. There had been no sign of Sandy.
Higgaion led the way back to the oasis, his energy renewed now that they had a destination. Japheth was untired, jogging along, breathing easily. Dennys was grateful for his own long legs; without them, he would not have been able to keep up.
As they approached Grandfather Lamech’s groves and could see the dark shadow of his tent, Higgaion trumpeted and quickened his pace, so that Japheth was running. When they reached the tent, the heat seemed to intensify, and their shadows were dark and squat. Higgaion paused, pointing with his trunk to light flashing off something half buried in the sand by the tent flap.
“Adnarel!” Dennys cried. “Oh, Adnarel!”
Japheth bent down and lifted the scarab beetle out of the sand, stroked it gently with one finger, and it seemed to burst from his hand, and Adnarel stood before them, blazing gold.
“Oh, Adnarel,” Dennys cried, “Sandy never came home after he gave Noah the camel! We don’t know what’s happened to him!”
Adnarel bowed gravely, listening, saying nothing.
Japheth said, “I worry that he may not have gone wherever it is of his own free will.”
Adnarel turned to Japheth. “Explain what you are thinking.”
“Since he didn’t follow my father to Grandfather’s tent as he said he would do, then I am afraid that perhaps someone…” His voice trailed off.
Adnarel’s wings glittered. “You are thinking of Tiglah?”
“It was Anah’s suggestion…”
“No,” Dennys contradicted.
“We know she’s a seductress,” Japheth said.
“No,” Dennys repeated. “Sandy would never have gone off with Tiglah, with Grandfather dying. Never.”
Adnarel nodded. “Of course. He would not have disappeared of his own volition.”
“Then where is he?” Dennys demanded.
Adnarel raised his wings, slowly lowered them. “What are you doing to try to find him?”
Japheth did not know of the visit of Tiglah’s father and brother to Noah’s tenthold. “We are all searching, but we have found no trace anywhere.”
Adnarel looked at the two young men, eye to eye with Dennys, down for Japheth, small and lean and strong.
Japheth continued: “Sandy cares about Grandfather Lamech. He cares about his brother. It is not in his character to go off at such a time.”
“Nephilim,” Adnarel said softly.
A ripple of concern rolled across Higgaion’s flanks. Japheth said, “That’s what we were afraid of. But even they couldn’t make him vanish completely, could they?”
“They are masters of illusion,” Adnarel said. “They can make any part of the oasis look like someplace else. They can disguise odors. That is why Higgaion’s scenting was to no avail.”
“But where do you think he is?” Dennys’s voice soared with anxiety.
“I think the nephilim have used human greed. I suspect that some of the less pleasant people of the oasis, perhaps the men of Tiglah’s tent, have taken him and put him in some little-used tent and are asking some kind of ransom for him. They are acquisitive, but they don’t like to work for what they get, and they would be easy to tempt into doing whatever the nephilim want.”
Dennys raised his head as he heard the strong beating of wings, and a pelican plummeted out of the sky, and then Alarid stood beside them. “The nephilim are afraid of the twins.” His wings shook silver.
“But why?” Japheth asked. “The twins are good.”
Adnarel and Alarid touched wing tips. Adnarel said, “The nephilim fear what they do not understand. Did Higgaion go all the way across the oasis with his scenting?”
Japheth nodded.
“To the far end?” Alarid asked.
“Yes.”
“Try once more. This time, go straight across the length of the oasis and concentrate at the farthest point. They will have taken him as far away from Noah’s tents as possible.”
“And they’re not likely to have gone in the direction of Grandfather Lamech’s tent,” Alarid added.
Higgaion’s stringy little tail flicked.
Japheth said, “The sun is high. The Den cannot cross the oasis at full noon without getting the sun sickness again.”
Both seraphim looked at Dennys, already red and sweating. “You are right. The Den will stay here, in Grandfather Lamech’s tent, for the afternoon rest. One of us will stay with him, in case…” Adnarel did not finish.
Alarid said, “And we will see to it that he gets to Noah’s tenthold before sundown. Whether you find the Sand or not, you must be home by then.”
Higgaion raised his trunk in an impatient trumpet.
“We’ll go,” Japheth said. He looked up at the seraphim, asking in a low voice, “Are you worried?”
Gravely they acknowledged the question.
* * *
In the dark heat of the prison tent, Sandy slept fitfully, dreaming a confusion of meaningless dreams. Tiglah was tying his thongs tightly and shoving a bowl of spoiled meat at him. His nostrils twitched.
It was not Tiglah’s smell. It was not even the smell of rancid goat meat. He opened his eyes and saw only a small dark shadow, felt something soft nudging him. He reached out his hand and touched something firm and curved. Moved his hand alon
g whatever it was, until his fingers felt a roughness. It was a tusk, broken off at the point. His eyes adjusted to the dim light and he saw that he was touching a mammoth, not Higgaion or Selah, both of whom were sleek and well fed, with polished tusks, but an underfed mammoth with stringy hair, and one tusk broken off just at the point, the other slightly farther up. It was nudging him with the tip of its trunk.
What the mammoth wanted of him he was not sure. But it was apparent that it meant him no harm, and that its overtures were friendly. Sandy began to stroke the shaggy head, then ran his fingers over the ivory tusks. This little beast had obviously been abused, so it was likely that it came from Tiglah’s tent. He was grateful for the company. Perhaps a mammoth, even a mangy mammoth, would be helpful when night came, not so much helpful in the actual escape as in finding Noah’s tenthold.
“Now,” he said to the mammoth, fondling the fan-shaped ears, “if I only had a unicorn, then I could get out of here.” He stopped. Then: “Hey. I didn’t think of a unicorn before, because basically I still don’t believe in unicorns.”
Dennys, he remembered, had summoned a unicorn after Tiglah’s father and brother had nearly killed him, dumping him into the garbage pit. It wasn’t easy for Dennys to believe in unicorns either, but when he had to, he did.
If Sandy could believe something as outrageous as that he and Dennys had actually landed in the pre-flood desert, and that they had become so close to Noah’s tenthold, especially Yalith, that they were like family, and if he could believe that he was now petting a mammoth, why should it be hard to believe in a unicorn, even if it was what Dennys called a virtual unicorn? His mother believed in virtual particles, and his mother was a scientist who had won the Nobel Prize for discovering particles so small they were scarcely conceivable even with a wild leap of the imagination.
“What’ll I do?” he asked the mammoth, who responded by cuddling closer to him.
If Sandy left the tent on his own, they would be lying in wait for him—Rofocale, if not Tiglah’s father and brother—and they would not hesitate to kill him. Even night would not provide enough cover, with the brilliance of the stars illuminating the oasis.
“The problem is,” he said to the Mammoth, “that I always have to see things to believe in them. But, after all, I have seen unicorns, two of them. I have seen them, therefore I can believe in them.”
The mammoth reached with its trunk to touch, softly, the boy’s cheek. In his mind’s ear Sandy seemed to hear, “Some things have to be believed to be seen.”
“Unicorn!” he whispered, and the mammoth slipped its trunk into the palm of his hand. “Unicorn, please tend to life. Please tend to be.”
Against the darkness of the tent came a starburst of light, and a unicorn stood, trembling, beside him.
“Oh, you are!” Sandy cried. “Oh, thank you!” He held out his hand. The unicorn came to him with silver steps, folded its delicate legs, and lay down, putting its head in Sandy’s lap, so that the light of the horn flowed over the scraggly little mammoth, who lifted its head gratefully. Sandy fondled the silvery mane, soft as moonbeams. “Now what?” he asked the two disparate creatures.
The light of the horn glittered, but neither unicorn nor mammoth answered him.
“If I could fall asleep,” Sandy mused, “or stop believing in unicorns, then you would lose your tendency to life and go out, and take me with you, the way you took Dennys. The problem is that now I believe in you. And as long as I believe in you, you’ll continue to be, won’t you?”
The unicorn nuzzled him, as affectionate as the mammoth.
“As long as I stay with you,” Sandy whispered, “I think I’m safe, because I’m absolutely certain that Tiglah couldn’t come near you, or her father or brother. But if they try to, and you go out of being, will you take the mammoth and me out of being with you? If we don’t take the mammoth, they’ll hurt him again. So will you take us?”
It was a rather intimidating thought. He had asked Dennys how it had felt the two times he had gone out with the unicorn, and Dennys had answered that it hadn’t felt at all. But perhaps, Sandy thought, that might have been because Dennys had sunstroke and a high fever. Then he remembered Grandfather Lamech—or was it Japheth?—telling him that unicorns never lost anybody.
He put one arm about the unicorn, the other about the mammoth, and waited. This was a far better plan than going with Tiglah, or trying to cross the desert alone.
“You see,” he said to the two creatures, who pressed confidingly against him. “When the time came for me to do something, I knew what to do, and I did it.”
He held unicorn and mammoth close.
* * *
The nephilim gathered. Proud. Arrogant. Flickering in and out of their hosts as they spoke.
Rofocale the mosquito said, “I have put an illusion around the tent. It is on the edge of the desert at the farthest end of the oasis, but the illusion makes it look as though it is surrounded by flocks and groves.”
Eblis the dragon/lizard asked, “Are giant twins worth this much trouble?”
Rofocale answered, “I think they know something we do not know. When I questioned the one that Tiglah caught for me, he gave evasive answers.”
Ugiel the cobra said, “There is danger in the air. The stars are drawing back. I am concerned for my baby.”
Naamah the vulture went “Kkk. We chose to be silent with El. We chose never to hear the Voice again, never to speak with the Presence.”
Ertrael the rat said, “We could ask the seraphim.”
“Never,” said Estael the cockroach.
“But they still speak with El,” Ertrael said. “The stars still talk with them.”
“I do not care to listen to the stars,” Eisheth the crocodile pronounced.
“They might tell us,” said Rumjal the red ant, “whether or not we are in danger.”
“How can we be in danger?” Eblis asked. “We are immortal.”
“And the one we caught,” said Rofocale, “told me that he is mortal. If he is to be believed.”
Naamah the vulture clacked his beak. “I smell that there will soon be much for us to eat.”
“How?” Rofocale demanded. “What is going to happen?”
Eblis the dragon/lizard asked, “Will someone tell me what Noah is building?”
“A good question,” said Rumael the slug.
Rofocale gave his screeching laugh. “A boat! That is what my Tiglah tells me. He is building a boat!”
“A boat?” Eisheth the crocodile demanded. “Why on earth would he build a boat?”
Rugziel the worm asked, “Could the twin giants have told him something that we do not know?”
Rofocale said, “We need to get rid of the twin giants. Everything has been different since they came.”
“Noah reconciled with his father. Kkk,” said Naamah the vulture.
“And Lamech has died,” Estael the cockroach agreed.
“My lovely Yalith prefers the young giants to me,” Eblis said. “They must have some strange power, to make her turn from me to such soft-skinned, wingless creatures.”
“And Noah is building a boat,” Rofocale added.
“And Matred weeps,” said Rumjal the red ant.
“We should find out,” Ugiel suggested, “whether or not they—the young giants—are truly mortal or not.”
Rofocale screeched again. “Tiglah’s father and brother will find that out for us.”
* * *
Higgaion finally found the tent where Sandy was imprisoned, because the unicorn was there. Rofocale’s power of illusion had indeed made the tent seem to be in the middle of the oasis, had indeed altered Sandy’s scent. But the unicorn had come to the tent after the illusion was set. Higgaion sniffed. He smelled silver, and he smelled light. He nudged Japheth excitedly.
Tentatively, Japheth pushed open the tent flap. Enough of the late-afternoon light came through the tent hole so that he could see Sandy and the unicorn, their heads together in affectio
n. The abused mammoth was only a dark shadow under Sandy’s arm.
“Sand!”
Sandy opened his eyes. “Jay!”
The young man started to rush forward to embrace him, then stopped short as though held by some invisible barrier. The unicorn’s light brightened.
Higgaion followed Japheth into the tent, sitting back on his haunches in surprise as he saw the mammoth who pressed closely against Sandy, blinking fearfully.
Sandy’s protective arm tightened. “It’s all right. Nobody’s going to hurt you.” Then: “Jay, how did you find me?”
“Are you all right?” Japheth asked anxiously.
“Oh, I’m fine, but Tiglah’s father and brother want to kill me…”
“No.” Japheth touched his fingers to his tiny bow. “No, Sand.”
“And look what they’ve done to their mammoth,” Sandy said indignantly. “They’ve nearly starved him, and they’ve broken his tusks.”
“All right,” Japheth said hurriedly. “We’ll take him with us. But we’d better get out of here before they come back.”
“I think I’m safe as long as I’m with the unicorn,” Sandy said; “because they won’t be able to come near.”
Japheth smiled. “I can’t, either.” He stared at boy and unicorn. “Sand. Do you remember when I first met you and the Den in the desert, and we called unicorns, and the Den went out?”
“Of course I remember.”
“Can’t you go out with the unicorn now?”
Sandy sighed. “The problem is, Jay, that I believe in the unicorn.”
The mangy mammoth suddenly pricked up its ears and started to whimper. Higgaion pushed himself up onto his feet, and Japheth swung around to see the tent flap open violently. Two small, chunky men came in, carrying spears. Tiglah’s father and brother.
“Auk! What have we here?” the older man demanded.
“A unicorn,” the younger man exclaimed. “And one of Noah’s sons. Well, well.” He moved toward Sandy and the unicorn, then drew back with a sharp intake of breath. “You, young giant!” he shouted. “Come along! We want you.”
“Sorry,” Sandy said. “You can’t have me.” He looked at Japheth and the two men from Tiglah’s tent and wondered anew at how small they were. Tiglah’s father was made even shorter by his bowed legs. No wonder they had used the poisoned dart on him. In a fair struggle, they would never have captured him.
The Wrinkle in Time Quintet Page 73