Heavens Before (36 page)

“I’m coming, Ghinnah.” Annah smiled to herself as she walked into the window-lit main living area. Ghinnah wanted companionship whenever she entered or left the pen, like a child needing reassurance. Tirtsah also seemed unsure of herself. Annah had found her wandering through the pen this morning, staring at everything, obviously forlorn—and disdainful—until Annah had coaxed
her outside into the sunlight.

Now Annah went out into the daylight with Ghinnah, staring at the confusion below. The area behind the lodge was crowded with tools, cured hides, rolled grass mats, storage chests, and multitudes of baskets filled with the provisions from Naomi’s storage room. Tirtsah had apparently gone into the lodge to help Naomi, but Noakh was standing in the middle of all the provisions, arguing with his wild-haired cousin Akar.

“You’re welcome to go or stay, as you please,” Noakh was telling Akar. “But obviously you don’t care to listen to me, so it no longer matters what you do.”

“It no longer matters?” Indignant, Akar said, “I’ve served you all these years—and you say it no longer matters? No, you won’t be rid of me so easily!”

“Stay, then.” As he spoke, Noakh picked up some of his tools and eyed the broad grinding stone and its mortar. “Stay in our lodge if you like. Whatever you choose, Akar. Soon we won’t need the lodge anyway.”

Akar snorted, rolling his eyes. “Save me from another story of the Most High.”

“I won’t bore you again.” Noakh beckoned to Khawm and Yepheth, who were coming out of the lodge, laden with the last baskets of grain from the storage room. “Don’t forget, my sons, we have to carry your mother’s grinding stone and mortar into the pen as soon as possible.”

“Then that’s all you have to say to me?” Akar demanded, tapping Noakh’s back with hard, impatient fingers.

“Why should I talk if you won’t listen to me?” Noakh answered, clearly exasperated. “I’ll tell you again; if you don’t want to leave us, then stay in the lodge tonight. Now, my cousin, take care of yourself, and let me finish
my work.”

As Noakh rebuked his cousin, Annah saw a pair of brilliantly colored birds, all lustrous green and gold with curving black beaks, alight on Noakh’s arm and shoulder.

Noakh blinked at the pair, then chuckled. “You’re early,” he said to them, shaking his head. “And you’ve caught me with my arms full.” Looking around, he saw Annah and Ghinnah. He smiled at them and tipped his head, indicating the pair of birds. “My daughters, please, come take these two up into the pen. I pray that the Most High doesn’t plan to have all the creatures land on me when they find me—it could become quite uncomfortable.”

Pleased and amused, Annah went to her father-in-law and offered her shoulder to the pair of green and gold birds. They moved over to her, thoroughly trusting. The smaller one, the female, scrabbled toward Annah’s bound hair, apparently enticed by her glittering gold hair bindings. “You can’t have them,” Annah whispered as it picked at the gold. “You don’t need them anyway; you’re lovely just as the Most High created you, pretty bird. Come-come.”

“Your son deserves such a wife,” Akar sneered, fixing his sharp black eyes on Annah. “She’s as ridiculous as you are. If she were my wife, I’d beat her for talking such foolishness to a bird.”

“But she’s not your wife,” Noakh answered forbiddingly. “Now, cousin, go or stay as you please, and don’t harass us.”

Fearful, Annah looked down at her feet, keeping her face expressionless as she went toward the ramp of the pen. Ghinnah followed her silently, carrying a basket of dishes and cooking pots. When they were inside the pen, away from Akar, Ghinnah said, “Just now, I think I saw the
nothing-creature-Annah.”

“An old habit,” Annah acknowledged. “I wanted to get away from that Akar. I was also thinking that except for the care of the Most High, I might have been given to such a man—one who would enjoy beating his wife.”

“All men beat their wives,” Ghinnah said, as if this were an unchangeable fact.

“Not the men of the lodge of Noakh.”

Unable to argue, Ghinnah shrugged and followed Annah through the central level to the ramp leading up to the higher level. The birds were becoming restless, roving along Annah’s arm and shoulder. The female finally clawed her way up Annah’s hair to the top of her head, making Annah nervous as she carried the birds toward the vast netted enclosure. Ghinnah set down the basket of dishes and opened the curtains so Annah could place the birds on one of the branches hanging inside. Inside the netting, the birds fluttered wildly, shedding delicate tufts of green down as they beat their wings about Annah’s head. Annah stood still, shielding her eyes with her hands. If she moved suddenly, she might frighten them even more. Outside the netted enclosure, Ghinnah was agitated, wringing her hands.

“Annah, what’s wrong with them? What should I do?”

Steadying herself, Annah said, “Go find the father of our husbands.”

Annah waited inside the netted enclosure, trying to remain calm. The birds were flying about now, as if trying to escape. Annah was amazed at their speed and their ability to veer and turn among the countless branches. Then, quite suddenly, they settled near each other in the branches, docile again, as if nothing had happened. An instant later, Annah felt Noakh’s presence as he came up
the ramp. He was chuckling, followed by the anxious Ghinnah.

“Now, daughter, I hope you haven’t changed your hair for feathers. Come out here, little bird!”

“They were frightened,” Annah explained. “But the instant you returned to the pen; they became quiet. They sensed your presence before I did.”

As Annah slipped out of the enclosure, Ghinnah picked a feather from Annah’s hair and laughed, her agitation fading. “Really, Annah, the feathers are quite pretty in your hair. We should show this new adornment to I’ma-Naomi and Tirtsah.”

Noakh cleared his throat gently, as if he hated to interrupt. “Daughters, go tell your husbands that I cannot leave the pen. If these two creatures have already appeared, then others will follow. We have little time.”

As they left the pen, Ghinnah sniffed doubtfully. “Two birds appear and he says ‘we have little time.’ It’ll take more than two birds to convince me.” Tossing her head, she moved ahead of Annah, out of the pen.

“The herds have been restless all week,” Naham growled, his voice lifting to the grass roof of his lodge. Seated on a mat beside him, Yerakh grunted and stared into the evening fire. Frowning, Naham continued. “My wives say that they’ve watched countless creatures on the other side of the river, all moving northward. Although, women being such fools, I should ignore them.”

Yerakh grunted again.

Irritated, Naham gave Yerakh a shove. “What use are you, my friend, if you won’t talk to me? Where’s your
laughter? If you give up your will to live, Yerakh, why not just kill yourself now? I haven’t said so before, but ever since that Annah-who-is-not-Annah spoke that curse upon you … well, you’re no longer a man. I should find myself a new friend who enjoys feasting and games and women—and vengeance.”

Yerakh looked up. “What vengeance? Who has offended you?”

“Who’s offended me?” Naham snorted and spat toward the fire. “I was talking about you. Listen, my friend, it’s been months now. You’re still alive. Do you need any more proof that your miserable sister was wrong to curse you? You should be angry! She’s used her words to escape you and to rob you of your joys.” Huffing, Naham said, “I swear, Yerakh, if I hear your pretty wife crying to my wives again that you don’t desire her anymore, I’ll take her for myself—since you’ve forgotten how to be a husband.”

Yerakh glared at him. “It’s easy for you to talk. You didn’t feel that presence moving against you. You didn’t see the fear of the Nachash—who has feared nothing, until now.”

“All the more reason for us to kill that Annah-who-is-not-Annah.”

When Yerakh lowered his head and frowned, Naham said, “If you don’t kill her, then I will. Your fear has made you weak. And she—that Annah—has even changed Tseb-iy. He swears she’s turned all women against him, forcing him to marry.”

Yerakh sneered at the mention of Tseb-iy, who had finally chosen to marry Yediydah, K’nan’s lovely, pouting-lipped younger sister. “Tseb-iy is getting married because the women of this settlement are tired of him and won’t
yield to him anymore. His wife, however, must accept him whether she’s tired of him or not.”

“Then,” Naham argued, “if you don’t believe Tseb-iy when
he
says he was cursed by your sister, why should you believe that you are cursed? I’m telling you, we should kill that Annah-creature. I’ll do it; I’m not afraid of her. In fact”—Naham paused, licking his lips—“it’ll be a pleasure.”

“Tomorrow then,” Yerakh agreed, finally seeming to be persuaded, even pleased by the thought. “I’ll go with you; we can sneak away during Tseb-iy’s marriage feast. And you can do as you please with her; I’ll keep my distance until she’s dead.”

“Coward!”

For the first time in weeks, Yerakh laughed.

Annah worked with Ghinnah in the middle level of the pen, fastening enclosures and cages. As she worked, she marveled at the orderliness and calm of the creatures as they entered their respective places. They all seemed drawn by Noakh’s presence. And they were utterly docile. Even the carrion-eaters, with their endless varieties of claws, horns, and teeth, seemed as easily led as sheep.

“Look at them,” Ghinnah said as she fastened another enclosure containing two ponderous, leather-skinned, one-horned beasts. “I don’t believe it.”

Annah didn’t respond; Shem had distracted her. He brushed past her teasingly, going toward the lower ramp, carrying a pair of night-rats and a pair of large-eyed tree-dwellers—creatures that loved the darkness. Other creatures slipped past Annah as well, seeming drawn to
various corners, spaces, and levels of the pen. Glancing about now, Annah saw Tirtsah descending the upper ramp, her beautiful eyes huge and a little desperate.

Tirtsah whispered to Annah, “This is not real. There are birds coming down through the windows—some I’ve never seen before!”

“Are you helping them into the netted enclosures?” Annah whispered back, as she fastened the rows of smaller cages along the walls.

“I’ma-Naomi and Yepheth are up there now,” Tirtsah said, distracted. She scanned the central level. “Where’s my husband?”

Annah suppressed a smile. Tirtsah had been shunning Khawm for most of the week. Now, she was looking for him. “He’s working in the lower level.”

“In the dark?” Tirtsah sounded unnerved by the thought.

“Some of the light goes down there,” Annah said soothingly. “But, anyway, my husband is with him. And Khawm has a torch.”

Tirtsah’s eyes widened in alarm, and she darted over to the central ramp leading into the lower level. Shrugging, Annah continued to fasten enclosures and cages, goading an animal here, lifting another there. Now and then, she paused to stare at some of the creatures. Each animal was young, healthy, and seemingly the most perfect of its kind. Annah was amazed and delighted by their beauty and astonishing variations, as well as by their similarities. She thought to the Most High,
What joy You must have had in creating all these animals!

“Look at these!” Ghinnah shrieked to Annah, laughing. Cautiously she lifted a stocky, spiny, dark-furred little creature that was equipped with a long, slender beaklike
snout and oddly turned, bare-clawed feet. “Its beloved looks the same; absurd things!”

“With those feet, they must like to burrow,” Annah thought aloud. “Put them in a dark corner cage with lots of leaves and straw.”

“You have no sense of fun,” Ghinnah sniffed, heading for a corner.

When more than half the day had passed, the sheer numbers of new and different animals dwindled. Then no more came. A muted breathlessness settled over the pen, an almost fearful sense of waiting. Full of wonder, Annah looked around. Naomi and Yepheth came down from the upper level, seeming perplexed. Shem, Khawm, and Tirtsah emerged from the lower level, dousing their torch in a pail of water, then squinting as they walked toward the great side door where Noakh stood.

Puzzled, Annah followed Shem toward the door. Noakh’s cousin, Akar, was scoffing at Noakh from the base of the ramp. “Now what’ll you do, after calling all those creatures to yourself? What trick did you use, eh? You’ll have to get rid of them soon enough, fool. And remember, you’ve given me your lodge!”