How Dragons Survived the Flood

Chapter 6

"Adataneses, your father wishes to see you."

Adataneses looked at Abida, her servant. "Of course. Help — h — help me get ready," her voice tremulous as she stuttered.

Abida came to the girl, who was strapped into a sedan chair. Adataneses lifted her face toward her servant, who gently washed it with a warm, wet cloth.

The servant handed the girl a polished copper mirror and began to comb Adataneses's thick, dark hair, pulling it away from her face, emphasizing her high cheekbones and smooth skin.

"Is my tunic clean?"

Abida finished securing the hair in a loose bun at the base of the girl's neck. "Yes, you look lovely."

Adataneses frowned as she put the copper mirror down and clasped her hands together to stop their trembling. "I hate it when people come. They always stare."

Abida held the girl's chin lightly as she washed it. "Yes, they do. Never have they seen such fragile beauty. High cheek bones, full lips," she put the cloth down and looked at her charge, "and eyes that mesmerize. Who would not look?"

"That is not what I mean."

Abida nodded at her mistress's words and then shrugged. "I know. What cannot be helped, cannot be helped. We do not let it stop us." She kissed the young woman on her forehead, "Remember, the Goddess is pleased with you."

Abida turned to the doorway. She called two servants to carry the wheeled sedan chair to the meeting room.

Adataneses's father, Methuselah, paced back and forth, stroking his beard. He looked up as the sedan chair entered the room.

Once in the meeting room, Abida dismissed the men with a wave of her hand and moved the wheeled chair into its normal position on the dais.

Methuselah rushed to the chair, smiling. His eyes were bright. "There you are, Adataneses. This runner is from the house of Noah."

Adataneses's eyes widened in alarm.

Methuselah hastened to add, "Your sisters and aunt are fine. The babe is fine. It is good news, not bad." He stood back and resumed stroking his beard.

Adataneses looked at her father. In his hand was a glass of fermented yayin. No wife or concubine followed him with his pipe. His clothes were clean. Outwardly he seemed to be doing well. What, she wondered, was bothering him? Tentatively she nodded, indicating that she understood.

He nodded in response, his smile widening, "Japheth, Noah's youngest son has returned from the wilderness. He searches for a bride to fulfill the prophecy. Yahweh has smiled on you this day, for you shall be that bride."

All Adataneses could do was blink her eyes. A husband? "This is a cruel — j — joke. Father."

His face hardened. He swept his hand through the air, as if to wipe out her remark. "No. No joke."

Adataneses looked at the runner.

"It is no joke," the runner replied. "The time of the prophecy draws near. You have been chosen to be the eighth person."

As she watched in shock, her father yelled, "Bring the yayin! We must celebrate!" The cry went out through Methuselah's compound and people began streaming into the large room.

Kazab, the head of Methuselah's security arrived. He dropped a kiss on her forehead. "Your most devoted servant, Adataneses."

She smiled a small smile at her handsome cousin. Holding her mistress's goblet so she could drink, Abida glanced at him too.