Heavens Before (30 page)

“You said your mother knew how to weave,” Annah mused aloud. “I’ll be glad to make your hair bindings as a gift. But later, will you teach me how to weave? None of the women in the settlement had such a skill. It was more practical for us to wear plain leather.”

Ghinnah beamed. “Gladly! I’ll teach you everything about weaving.”

“I know how to make threads from the stalks of certain
plants—” Annah stopped, tensing as the earth quivered beneath them.

“Oh no!” Ghinnah gasped, terrified. A rumbling, echoing groan seemed to lift from the earth to the sky; they both looked up, following the reverberation of the sound.

It sounds like the cry before a death tremor
, Annah thought, horrified. Oddly, the memory of her mother’s fatal convulsions welled up in her mind. As the shaking of the earth intensified, Ghinnah screamed, huddling against Annah. Clasping her protectively, as if Ghinnah were a child, Annah watched as everything around them shuddered and trembled sickeningly. Then, as suddenly as it began, the shaking stopped.

Gulping, Ghinnah cried, “I’ll never be used to the earth shaking! I hate it!”

“But it’s over now,” Annah soothed. “We’re safe.”

“How can you be so calm?” Ghinnah demanded, straightening, almost furious with her. “How can you sit there and pretend it’s nothing?”

“I don’t pretend it’s nothing; the shaking of the earth is to warn the others of the destruction to come. This is only the beginning, Ghinnah. I used to be as frightened as you are. But now I know why the earth shakes, and it no longer scares me.”

“Your Most High again,” Ghinnah choked out, wiping her eyes with her hands. “I know! Don’t tell me—I don’t want to hear it.”

Annah shrugged, trying to remain unaffected by Ghinnah’s anger. “You asked me, and I answered you. Next time, Yepheth will be glad to comfort you.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“You didn’t. At least not much.” Annah frowned, picking
up the berries that had bounced out of the bowl and rolled everywhere. As Ghinnah helped her, Naomi came out of the lodge, looking satisfied.

“Our Ancient One was awake this time, Ma’adannah. He didn’t believe us the last two times when we told him that the earth shook, but he believes us now. Ghinnah-child, leave the berries; I’ll take them. You two go bathe. Then,” she added, smiling at Annah, “I’ll let you make the cakes. The hearthstones are heating, so don’t be too long.”

“Let’s go to the river,” Ghinnah urged Annah, her mood brightening.

Annah hesitated, reluctant. “If that’s what you want. But I meet too many unwelcome people at the river.”

Naomi laughed. “Your husband should hear you! Listen: Go north, past the place where we gather sheaths from the reeds. No one from the settlement ever wanders up there. Hurry, or I’ll make the cakes without you.”

Yerakh moved through the darkness, watching shadows and studying the flickering lights of the fireflies that swarmed beyond his reach. Some members of the settlement netted the glowing flies, trapping them in containers of oiled membrane, then using the resultant lights to see in the darkness.

I don’t need help from mere flies
, Yerakh told himself smugly.
I can see well enough
. But he slowed his pace as he approached the lodge of the Nachash. Doubtless she was inside, aware of his presence and gloating, feasting on his fear.
I wish I could break her neck
, Yerakh thought.
Disgusting creature. And her whispering companions are no better. But I need to
find some way to defend myself against that Annah-who-is-not-Annah
.

Yerakh seethed, thinking of that heavy, gleaming gold in Annah’s traitorous hands.
I should have killed you the day I killed our father. I underestimated you—a mistake I won’t repeat
. Reluctantly, Yerakh trudged into the clearing surrounding the lodge of the Nachash. He saw the disc of bronze suspended between the posts, and the slender, polished club hanging beside it, and he scowled.
If that old woman and her stinking companions have the powers they claim, they’ll know I’m here even if I don’t warn them
. Ignoring all formalities, he strode into the lodge and sat down before the glowing, crackling hearth.

The whisperers scratched at their filthy leather tunics, glaring at Yerakh as they took their places near the hearth. The Nachash was silent, swaying faintly within the confines of her painted leather cloak. She was thinner than he remembered, and her scent was strong and harsh, evoking thoughts of death-rot.

It’s enough to persuade a carrion-eater to come looking for her
, Yerakh thought, grimacing.

The Nachash stirred and sighed. Without opening her eyes, she spoke hoarsely. “You … bloody, bloody man. We remember you. Why have you come to our fire?”

With an effort Yerakh spoke politely. “Tell me, Nachash, who is your enemy?”

The whisperers shivered and bared their ancient yellow teeth. “He asks …” the oldest whisperer croaked, swaying in her place to the left of the Nachash. “Without paying a price … he asks us to name the Enemy.”

“Bloody man,” the Nachash growled. “Rude! Can we say the name of the One who is against us? Can you resist
Him? No!” She exhaled loudly, contemptuously, over the fire. “We feel your fear. The Presence of the Enemy is against you. But you were warned. Blood calls him from the earth, bloody, bloody man! You!”

The eldest whisperer groaned as if in pain, her eyes shut tight. “The Presence was here the night of the child. It is against us, as it is against you, cutting you off from life.”

“How did you know?” Yerakh demanded, aghast, wondering if Taphaph or any of the other women of his family had spoken with the Nachash. “Who told you this?”

“Your fear tells us,” the oldest whisperer muttered. “That, and the Enemy’s anger.”

“And how do you resist this Enemy?” Yerakh asked. “Tell me.”

The Nachash opened her thin brown eyelids, revealing the whites of her eyes. Her face twisted with rage. She screamed at him, her voice rasping. “Resist? Fool! Leave us! You, with your hands empty. Even with a price, to resist the Enemy …” A tremor seized her body, making it shake as the earth had shaken that very morning. Suddenly desolate, she said, “We do not resist. Only hate. Out. Leave us with our fire.”

Outside, Yerakh passed a hand over his face. He was drenched in sweat.
We do not resist. Only hate
. He shivered at the words of the Nachash, fearing the weakness they implied.
If the Nachash and her whisperers can’t even say the name of their enemy, then how can I free myself from this curse? I feel it hovering, waiting to take my life
.

Not knowing what else to do, Yerakh turned again toward the settlement. Toward Taphaph, who now hated him as much as Iltani had once hated him. Nothing in Yerakh’s life pleased him now, and this was baffling, because
everything he had longed for was in his hands. He had expected pleasure from his marriage to Taphaph, joy from his wealth, and peace from being completely rid of Iltani and his family. Instead, he felt cheated, as if he had mistakenly exchanged a box of gold for a box of ashes.

Wielding a slender iron pick, Annah gently pressed the gold talisman back into shape on her broad, flat work-stone. Finished, she stretched briefly, glancing around at the peaceful clearing surrounding her hut. Flowers of white, blue, and golden-yellow edged the clearing. Hundreds of birds sang from the trees beyond. A beautiful morning.
I must resist daydreaming. It’ll be midday soon. Shem will return from his night of watching, and I’ma-Naomi will be waiting for me at the lodge. I also promised Ghinnah I would work on the talismans
.

She studied the gleaming talisman’s flower-petal design and the pierced tab where the leather hair bindings were inserted.
I’m not as skilled as my father or Yerakh, but I think I can make something that will please Ghinnah
.

Using a shard of clay, Annah gently traced the edges of the gold talisman against the work-stone, then moved the talisman and traced it again. She repeated the motions until she had a row of seven talisman tracings across the stone. Cautiously wielding a thin iron chisel and a bare hammer, she outlined the edge of one of the tracings, enjoying the feel of the tools in her hands.

A faraway whistle interrupted Annah’s concentration. Brushing chips of stone from her lap, she looked toward the noise, sensing the approach of Yepheth, Ghinnah, and Khawm.

“We’ve come to visit you,” Ghinnah called out. “But since you’re finally using those tools, we should leave. Perhaps I’ll have decent hair bindings soon; it’s only been two weeks since we discussed them.”

“Well, I won’t ask where you’ve been for most of those two weeks, dear sister,” Annah retorted mildly, pleased to see all three of them. She moved her tools to stand up, but they waved aside this courtesy and sat down, Khawm to her right, Yepheth and Ghinnah to her left.

“We thought you might be lonely, waiting for your husband to return from the herds,” Ghinnah explained. “Not that I’m eager for him to return, because then my husband will leave me.” She leaned against Yepheth, sighing dejectedly.

“You’ll be too busy talking and playing to miss me,” Yepheth said, kissing her hair. Marriage with Ghinnah had lightened Yepheth’s spirit; he talked more, smiled more, and actually seemed to enjoy being teased by his wife and his family.

“You know I’ll miss you—even while I’m talking and playing.” Ghinnah fingered Yepheth’s new black beard, then tweaked his curls lightly, making him grin, though he pulled her hands away from his hair.

“Look at them.” Khawm nodded in mock disgust at Yepheth and Ghinnah. “They’re sickening; always holding hands, kissing, staring at each other, ignoring the rest of us.” With a sly look at Annah, he said, “They’re almost as lovesick as my brother Shem and his wife.”

“May your wife rule you,” Yepheth muttered placidly, glancing at Khawm.

“I agree,” Ghinnah said, lifting her chin. “Say you agree, Annah.”

“I’m busy.” Annah picked up her tools, hoping to excuse
herself from the conversation, and from offending Khawm. She believed he felt isolated, being the only unmarried member of his family. As if recognizing her silent defense of him, Khawm sighed dramatically.

“At least someone refuses to speak against me! Not that it matters anyway.” Khawm sounded impatient, his mouth turning downward. “The way I’ma’s fussing and picking, I doubt I’ll ever marry.”

“She’s had enough young women to choose from,” Ghinnah said derisively. “I think my uncle told every person from here to the end of the earth that this family will pay a bride price instead of demanding one.”

“It’s just as well that he’s sending them,” Yepheth pointed out. “Otherwise, we wouldn’t have so many families offering their daughters for Khawm.”

“But that’s the problem,” Khawm grumbled. “I’ma has seen so many that she’s being too fussy. The family that left yesterday—the young woman was beautiful.”

“She was scowling,” Ghinnah reminded Khawm. “She looked as if she would rather bite you than kiss you. I think I’ma-Naomi was entirely correct.”

“Perhaps it’s also because our marriages weren’t settled according to the usual customs,” Annah said.

“Mine won’t be either, if I’m paying the brideprice,” Khawm argued, picking at some chips of stone. Annah had never seen him look so unhappy.

“You don’t resent having to pay the brideprice, do you?” Ghinnah asked Khawm, her soft color fading, her expression anxious.

Sighing, Khawm shook his head. “No, not at all. I simply want the matter to be settled. But the way I’ma is behaving, it won’t be decided for months.”

Yepheth changed the subject now, staring at Annah’s
tools. “When you were in the settlement, did you learn how various metals were handled and prepared?”

“I saw some of the iron being tested and shaped, and the copper,” Annah said tentatively, “but I usually avoided others in our settlement. Most of my work was with the gold, or mixtures of copper and gold.”

“Even so, you know more than the rest of us,” Yepheth said quietly. “Much knowledge will be lost…” He paused, obviously remembering Ghinnah’s aversion to talk of the predicted flood.