"You can't let Yalith drown in the flood."

"Why not?"

"Yalith is good. I mean, she is really good."

Alarid bowed his head. "Goodness has never been a guarantee of safety."

"But you can't let her drown."

"I have nothing to say in the matter."

"I should have spoken to Aariel," Dennys said in frustration. "Aariel loves her."

"He has no more say than I." The seraph turned his head away. / Dennys realized that he had hurt Alarid, bun he plunged ahead. "You're seraphim. You have powers."

"True. But, as I told you, it is dangerous to change things. We do not meddle with the pattern."

"But Yalith isn't in the pattern." Dennys's voice rose and cracked. "There's no Yalith in the story. Only Noah and his wife and his sons and their wives."

Alarid's wings quivered slightly.

"So, since she isn't in the story, it won't change anything if you prevent her from being drowned in the flood."

"What do you want me to do?" Alarid asked.

"You aren't going to be drowned, are you?" Dennys demanded. "You, and the other seraphim?"

"No."

"Then take her wherever it is you're going to escape the flood."

"We cannot do that," Alarid said sadly.

"Why not?"

"We cannot." Again, the seraph turned his face away.

"Where are you going, then?"

Alarid turned back to Dennys and smiled, but not in amus.e.m.e.nt. "We go to the sun."

No. Yalith could not go to the sun. Nor to the moon, which Dennys had been about to suggest. Yalith could not live where there was no atmosphere. But surely there was something to be done! He made a strangled noise of outrage. "We're not in the story, either, Sandy and I. But we're here. And Yalith is here."

"That is so."

"And if we drown, that is, if Sandy and I drown, that's going to change the story, isn't it? I mean, we're not going to be born in our own time if we get drowned now, and even if that makes only a tiny difference, it will make a difference to our family. If Sandy and I don't get born, maybe Charles Wallace won't get born. Maybe Meg will be an only child."

"Who?"

"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 ma.s.ses 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 n.o.body 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 gla.s.s 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 b.r.e.a.s.t.s delicate and rosy, and had a moment's absurd vision of her in one of the cla.s.srooms 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."