“South?” I asked. “We are meant to go north, to Palestine.”
“We cannot cross the sands without water,” Saba said. He regarded Judah. “I have only heard of this well. You know the way?”
Judah looked to the heavens, then thoughtfully at the horizon. “With stars I will know where we are and where we must go.”
“If there is no water?” I asked.
Judah said nothing, which meant everything. There were no other wells near the Sidin. If the well was dry, the journey would be our last.
“There is no better option,” Saba said. “We rest and wait for the stars.”
What struck me even more squarely than the dire nature of our predicament was Judah and Saba’s acceptance of it. All surely dread death, but they, who lived so close to it at all times, showed no fear. Facing death was a way of life for them, but I knew that one could walk into the face of death only so many times before being consumed.
We found shade at the base of a jagged cliff, surely the same rock where Saba’s she-camel had consigned us all to ruin. She looked sad and wore the same perpetual pout all camels wear, though I was sure she sensed Saba’s displeasure with her. Camels are far more sensitive beasts than horses, far more inquisitive and affectionate, always seeking the attention of their friends and their masters. Wabitu had suffered the loss not only of Shunu and Raza, but of Saba’s approval as well.
I approached her and rubbed her neck, whispering words of comfort. She sniffed at my hair and smacked her lips near my ear to show her appreciation.
I could only look at her with compassion now, for she did not know the consequence of her mistake. Were we not the same, awaiting the turns of fate at the mercy of ambitious gods?
We rested until dark. There was little to speak of, and even less energy to speak at all. Even so, I wanted to shake off my concerns.
“Are you worried, Saba?” I asked.
“It will be as it will be.”
His words offered no peace, so I looked hopefully at Judah, who’d reclined against the rock after offering me the saddle and the blankets on which to rest my head.
“And you, Judah?”
He smiled, but I knew it was for my sake alone. And in his eyes I finally saw fear’s shadow.
“No, Maviah. God will see you through.”
I briefly thought to ask why his god, if he could see, had led us to this desolate place, but I held my tongue. I was too preoccupied by my fears.
If Judah was afraid, then I should be terrified.
And suddenly I was.
CHAPTER SEVEN
WHEN DARKNESS finally came, Judah climbed the dune and studied the stars for a long time. During the nights he’d shown me how he read the stars, naming many as if they were his brothers and sisters shining for the benefit of all who knew them as he did. And indeed, I was impressed by how he could line up the exact location of each star and then point to a place on the horizon, saying, “There, three leagues distant, is the oasis at Tayma.” Or “There, in a twenty-three-hour run on Raza, is the rock of Meidal.” But he could be so accurate only at night. The day was Saba’s charge.
“We go,” he said, briskly returning to us. “We push the camels to reach the well at Sidin before the sun rises.”
“It’s too far for one night,” Saba said. “If we run the camels, they will die.”
“We are closer than I first thought.”
“No, we are two days.”
“No. We can make it in one night if we travel fast.”
“It’s too far—”
“Do you read the stars so well?” Judah demanded. “Are your dunes more precise than the heavens?”
Saba studied Judah’s set jaw and finally dipped his head.
“As you say.”
Saba was a wise man, built like a pillar, but Judah when pressed was perhaps the stronger man. If not in body, then in purpose and conviction.
The poor camels groaned as they hauled us step after step over the sands, taking us south, away from Palestine. Once again Judah rode behind me, and his energy returned with the cool air. His stars gave him reason to sing, however softly. And surely in some way he also drew comfort from me, so close to him, warming his sprit, for there was no hiding that Judah was pleased with my company. In the desert a marriage between a man and woman has little to do with sentiment but is meant for the purposes of provision, protection, and the raising of children. And yet I thought I provided Judah with the same warmth of spirit he offered to me.
We did not stop to rest. We did not allow the camels to slow despite their complaints. We did not adjust our course, for Judah had his eyes on the sky all the while.
Judah’s elevated spirit lifted my own, and yet I knew that even if we reached the well of Sidin, we would not find life unless we also found water below the surface.