Noah by Mark Morris Page B

scanned the ground until he had found two flat rocks, and then he carried the rocks across to the fire pit. With Og looking on, Ham knelt down, placed the tzohar carefully on the flat surface of one of the rocks, and then pressed the other rock down on top of it. With a quick, deft movement, he ground the two rocks together with the tzohar between them, and tossed the whole lot into the pit.
    There was a white flash and the tzohar ignited, an almost liquid-like fire spreading over the rocks, flames leaping high. Within seconds the rocks were glowing white-hot and the fire pit was pulsing with warmth. Og squatted beside it and with no hesitation at all Ham clambered on to his knee. After a moment Shem joined them by the edge of the pit, and a few moments later, after she had finished tending to Ila, so did Naameh, a contented and well-fed Japheth in her arms.
    The group ate breakfast together, though Noah spent most of the time staring pensively up at the mountain. When they were done he and Shem stood up. Ham slid from Og’s knee and stood up as well.
    “Why can’t I come too?” he asked.
    Noah beckoned Ham over to the tent so he could talk to him in private. Kneeling in front of him, he said, “I need you to look after Mother. It’s a very important job. Will you do it for me?”
    Ham sighed. He wasn’t so gullible that he didn’t know when he was being put off—but he nodded.
    “Thank you,” Noah said.
    The day was so still that even though Noah had spoken quietly, his voice had carried over to those sitting around the fire. Naameh sidled up to Shem and leaned across as if to plant a kiss on his cheek. Instead of doing so, however, she whispered, “And I need you to look after your father.”
    Shem smiled and nodded, and she tapped him playfully on the nose.
    Meanwhile Noah indicated with his eyes that he wanted to speak to Og. The Watcher rose from his place beside the fire and ambled across to where the man was standing.
    “Take care of my family while I am gone,” Noah said quietly.
    Og spread all six of his arms wide. “Don’t worry. They are in good hands.”
    Noah’s face broke into a rare smile. He thanked Og, and then, without another word, he gestured to Shem and the two of them turned and began to head up the mountain.
    * * *
    For a while they followed a mountain path that wound through jagged rocks, some as large as houses. Eventually the path petered out as the going became steeper and more treacherous, whereupon Noah andShem began to climb. They did so with practiced ease, their hands and feet instinctively finding purchase as they scrambled up and over rocks like a pair of lizards. They had been climbing for maybe an hour until they came to a wide, flat ledge. They pulled themselves up on to it, one after the other, then turned and looked back down the mountain to assess their progress so far.
    The camp was far below them, the tents like brown stones, a lighter shade than the surrounding landscape. They saw Og, illuminated by the white-hot glow of the fire, sitting and contemplating the flames, Naameh and Ham flanking him like chicks gathered in the protective aura of a mother hen. Noah felt a pang of love and gratitude toward his wife and children, for believing in him and following him without question, but he also felt guilty for putting their lives in peril. He consoled himself with the thought that nowhere was safe anymore, that a little extra danger was worth the risk if it meant living in a better world.
    Of course, how that goal would be achieved he had no idea. His hope was that Methuselah would be able to set them on the right path.
    While Shem sat, resting his legs for a few minutes, Noah remained standing, his gaze shifting to the horizon, beneath which there was nothing but endless miles of sad, parched, empty earth. Sighing, he turned and looked up at the mountain, shielding his eyes against the light from the sky. In truth, the light wasn’t particularly bright—indeed, if