Sitawandas put Sharur in mind of an Alashkurri version of his own father—a large, solid man who knew his own mind and who was intent on wringing the most he could from any deal. He picked up one of the swords Sharur had taken from their woolen wrappings. His grip, his stance, showed he knew how to handle it.
“This is a fine blade to hold, Sharur son of Ereshguna,” he said. “I would have looked for nothing less from you.” Gently, he set down the sword * and took from his wrist a copper bracelet. “May I test the hardness of the metal, to be certain it is as you say?”
Sharur bowed again. “I am your slave. If the buyer is not pleased and satisfied in all regards, how can there be a sale?”
Sitawandas took up the sword once more, using the edge against the bracelet as if he were slicing bread. He stared at the groove he had cut in the copper and said, “Yes, man of Gibil, this bronze is as fine as any I have ever seen.”
“Many warriors will want swords like these,” Sharur said. “They will give you silver and gold for them. Do I ask silver and gold for them? No—only copper and copper ore, as you well know.”
“I know the terms on which we have dealt, yes.” Sita- . wandas put down the sword again, as carefully as he had before. “And you speak truly, Sharur son of Ereshguna: a warrior of Alashkurru would be proud to carry such a blade in his sheath.” He let out a long, deep sigh. Sharur thought he saw tears in his eyes. “Truly I am sorry, man of Gibil. It is as you say. I could gain gold and silver for such swords. I have copper and copper ore in plenty in my storehouse, to pay to the man who could give such swords to me. But it shall not be. It can not be.”
Sharur’s heart sank. “I understand the words you say, Sitawandas son of Anawandas, but not the meaning concealed within them.” He did not, he would not, let the Alashkurri merchant see his dismay.
“For myself, I would like to gain these swords,” Sitawandas said. “I am forbidden from trading with you, however. I am forbidden from trading with any man of Gibil.”
“Who forbids you? Is it Huzziyas, the mighty wanax of Tuwanas?” Sharur set a finger by the side of his nose and winked. “Let one blade, two blades, three blades come into the hands of Huzziyas for no gold, for no silver, and surely you shall be able to do as you please with the rest of them.”
Sitawandas sighed again. “Huzziyas the mighty wanax would be proud to have such blades. This cannot be denied.” The guards at the gates of Tuwanas had said the same thing. Sitawandas went, on, “But, Sharur son of Ereshguna, Huzziyas the mighty wanax is no less forbidden than I from trading with you. I pray I shall not be punished even for speaking to you as I do, though that has never been formally prohibited for us.”
“Once a sword is set in the hands of a warrior, he will not care whence it first came,” Sharur said. “Once a knife is set in a sheath on the belt of a warrior, he will not care whence it first came. Once a spearhead is mounted on a shaft, he will not care whence it first came. If you have these things, Sitawandas son of Anawandas, you can trade them to your countrymen at a profit. No one will ask, ‘Is this a blade of Gibil, Sitawandas, or is this a blade of Imhursag?’ The only question you will hear is, ‘Will this blade help me slay my enemies, Sitawandas?’ ”
The Alashkurri merchant licked his lips. “You tempt me, man of Gibil, as a honeycomb lying forgotten on a table tempts a small boy who is hungry and wants something sweet. But what happens to a small boy when he snatches up that honeycomb?”
“Nothing, often enough,” Sharur answered with a grin. “Did you never steal honeycomb when you were a boy?”
“As often as I thought I could get away with it,” Sitawandas said, also smiling. “But sometimes my father was watching, or my grandfather, or a family ghost, though I knew it not. And when that was so, I ate no honeycomb, but got a beating instead, or ate of it and got a beating afterwards. And sometimes the honeycomb lay on the table and I spied my father or my grandfather standing close by, or a family ghost spoke to me of some other thing. And when that befell, I stole no honeycomb that day, for fear of the beating I would surely earn.”
“I do not understand,” Sharur said, though he did, only too well.
Sitawandas said, “You are not a fool, Sharur son of Ereshguna. You are not a blind man.” Sharur said nothing. Sitawandas sighed. “Very well. Let it be as you wish. I shall explain for you. Huzziyas the mighty wanax stands here for my father. If I gain these blades from you, he will chastise me. The gods of Alashkurru stand here for my grandfather, or for a family ghost. If I gain these blades from you, they may see without my knowing, and they will chastise me.”
There it was. Sharur could not fail to understand that, no matter how much he might wish to do so. “Why does the wanax, mighty Huzziyas, hate me?” he cried. “Why do the gods of Alashkurru hate me?”
Sitawandas set a hand on his thigh. “I do not think mighty Huzziyas the wanax hates you, Sharur son of Ereshguna. I think he would have these things of you, if only he could. But, just as a father chastises a small boy, so also may a grandfather chastise a father.”
“You say the gods of Alashkurru will chastise Huzziyas, the mighty wanax, if he gains the swords and spearheads with which to defeat his enemies?” Sharur asked. “Do your gods then hate Huzziyas?”
“Never let that be said,” Sitawandas exclaimed, and made a sign the Alashkurrut used when a man of Kudurru would have covered the eyes of his god’s amulet to keep the deity from seeing. “But the gods fear the wanax will walk the path you men of Gibil have taken. When the gods declare a thing shall not be, the man who stands against them will not stand long.”
That was true. Sharur knew it was true. Kimash the lugal ruled in Gibil not by opposing Engibil but by appeasing him, by bribing him to look the other way and flattering him so he thought his power was as great as it had ever been. No man could directly oppose a god.
Indirectly, though—“Suppose—merely suppose, mind— I were to lose some of these swords at such-and-such a place: suppose a donkey handler were careless, for instance, so they fell off the beast. And suppose again, a few days later, that you were careless enough to lose some ingots of copper at some other place. If I chanced to find them there, I do not think I would ever tell you about it.”
“No, eh?” Sitawandas licked his lips. He knew what Sharur was saying, sure enough. Sharur made himself stand calm, stand easy, as if, since they were discussing things that might not be, those things were unimportant. Sweat sprang out on Sitawandas’s forehead. He was tempted to do business by not seeming to do business; Sharur could see as much. But at last, convulsively, the Alashkurri merchant shook his head. “I cannot do this thing, Sharur son of Ereshguna. I dare not do this thing. Should my gods take notice of the doing—No.” He shook his head again.
“However you like.” Sharur spoke carelessly. “If you do not care what might be found in out-of-the-way places—”
“I do not care?” Sitawandas broke in. “Never let that be said, either.” He let out a long, shuddering sigh. “Treating with you here, man of Gibil, I understand better and better why the gods of my people have come to fear you so.”
“Is it so?” Sharur shrugged, outwardly careless still. “Men are always wise to fear gods. I cannot see how gods, with their power, are wise to fear men.”
“There—do you see? You can speak well, when you care to. But, when you care to, you can also speak in ways that frighten men and gods alike.” Sitawandas brushed the sweat from his face with a hairy forearm. “Most frightening of all is that you have no notion how frightening you are.”
“Now you speak in riddles, Sitawandas son of Anawandas.” Sharur made as if to start re wrapping the weapons he had displayed, then paused one last time. “Are you sure you will not trade with me?”