Sharur bowed his head. “What you say is true, mighty lugal. I have already lost, or nearly lost, a marriage my family, my intended’s family, and I myself want very much, as you know.”
“Yes, I do know this,” Kimash said, nodding. “It is why I summoned you. It is why I give to you and to no other the task I hold in my mind.”
“What task is that, mighty lugal?” Sharur asked.
Kimash answered indirectly: “Son of Ereshguna, you were the first to bring back to Gibil word that men of other cities, men of other lands, would not treat with us. You were the first to bring back to Gibil word that gods of other cities, gods of other lands, were angry at us. I charge you with learning why this is so. I charge you with learning what we can do to make this so no longer.”
“Mighty lugal—” Sharur hesitated.
“Speak,” Kimash urged. “Give forth. Say what is in your heart.”
“Very well. As you will have heard from me, mighty lugal, the gods of the Alashkurrut say they will not let the Alashkurrut trade with us because we are too much our own men and not enough men of our god. The only way to make this not so that I can see would be to become as the Imhursagut are.”
“Yes, son of Ereshguna, I have heard this from your lips,” Kimash agreed. “But I have for you a question of my own: how are we more our own men this year than we were last year? How are we less men of our god this year than we were last year? Why could the Alashkurrut trade with us last year and not this year? What has changed in so short a time, to set the gods of the Alashkurrut—and some of the gods of Kudurru as well, it is not to be denied— against us?”
Sharur stared at Kimash. Then, all unbidden, he prostrated himself before the lugal once more. His head against the ground, he said, “Truly, mighty lugal, these are questions that want answering. When the gods spoke to me, I took their words for truth, and did not look behind them. By the way they spoke,” he added, “I saw nothing but truth in their words.”
“Rise, Sharur,” Kimash said. “I would not deny the gods of the Alashkurrut told you the truth. I do not deny the mountain gods spoke truly. But was the truth they told all of the truth? Do gods not speak the truth and speak in riddles at the same time?”
“Mighty lugal, it is so,” Sharur said.
“Of course it is so,” Kimash answered. “The gods created man in the misty depths of time, and no man yet has learned why, not from that day to this. There are truths within truths within truths, as in an onion there are layers within layers within layers. This is the task I set you, son of Ereshguna: bite into the onion of truth. Go past that first layer with the teeth of your wit. Learn what lies beneath it. Learn, and tell me what you have learned.”
“It shall be as you say.” Sharur bowed to the lugal. “I will learn what I may as quickly as I may, and I will tell you what I have learned.” He hesitated. “I do not think I will be able to learn all I need within the walls of Gibil. I shall have to travel beyond the lands our city rules.”
“Travel where you will,” Kimash told him. “I hope, though, that you will not need to return to the mountains of Alashkurru. I do not know if Gibil would be as it was when you returned from such a long voyage; I do not know if I would still sit on this high seat when you came back from such a great journey.”
More than anything else the lugal had said, that showed Sharur how deep his worry ran. If Kimash feared Engibil might take back the city before Sharur could return from the land of the Alashkurrut, the power of the lugal truly hung by a thread. “Mighty lugal,” Sharur said, the polite title reminding him as it was not intended to do of the limits to Kimash’s might, “I hear you. Mighty lugal, I obey you. I shall not go to the mountains of Alashkurru. I shall remain in the land between the rivers. I shall go to the city closest to ours, that I may spend as little time on the road as can be.”
“It is well,” Kimash said. “It is very well.” By his expression, though, it was not well, nor would it be until and unless Sharur returned with the answers he needed. After coughing a couple of times, he went on, “May you have good fortune on your journey to Zuabu. May you learn what you seek in the city of thieves.”
“Mighty lugal, you misunderstand me,” Sharur said. “I do not intend to go to Zuabu. I do not intend to travel to the city of thieves.”
“What then?” the lugal asked. His eyes widened. “You do not intend to go to Imhursag? You do not intend to travel to the city drunk on its god?”
Sharur nodded. “I do. The Imhursagut I met on the road knew I would have trouble in the mountains of Alashkurru. Enimhursag knew I would have no easy time among the Alashkurrut. If answers lie within the land between the rivers, they will lie in Imhursag. If answers are to be found within Kudurru, they will be found among the Imhursagut.”
“You are bold. You are brave.” Kimash’s voice was troubled. “Even now, Engibil rests more than he acts. It is not so with Enimhursag. The god of Imhursag watches his city. If you cross from the land Gibil rules to the land w'here Enimhursag is lord, the god will know you for what you are. His eye will never leave you. His ear will always be bent your way. You shall not succeed.”
“Mighty lugal...” Sharur paused. “Let me think. This thing needs doing; of that I am sure. How best to do it...” He paused again. After a bit, he brightened. “Have I your leave, mighty lugal, to spend a little more time on the road to Imhursag than I might otherwise?”
“Imhursag is not so distant,” Kimash answered. “What is in your mind?”
“Suppose, mighty lugal, that I do as you thought I would do: suppose I go to Zuabu, or to the land Zuabu rules. Zuabu and Imhursag are at peace; Enimhursag and Enzuabu have no quarrel. If I enter Imhursaggi land from Zuabu, to the eye and ear of Enimhursag I shall seem only another Zuabi myself. If he does not know me for what I am, he will take no special notice of me.”
“This is a good notion—or as good as a notion can be in bad times,” Kimash said. “No, son of Ereshguna, I shall not begrudge you the time you take traveling to Imhursag by way of Zuabu. Instead, I shall hope that you are able to turn the time into profit for yourself, for me, and for Gibil.”
He said not a word about profit for Engibil, which was one reason Sharur was so willing to do as he wished. The less the god interfered in Sharur’s life, the happier he would be. He was certain of that; when the god had interfered in his life, it had made him very unhappy indeed.
“Do you require anything more of me, mighty lugal?” he asked.
“I require that you succeed,” Kimash answered. “Gibil requires that you succeed. If we are not to return to what we were in the days before we learned to put tin in with copper, if we are not to return to what we were in the days before we learned to set our records down on clay, if we are not to return to the days before we learned to think our own thoughts and act on our own purposes, we all require that you succeed.”
Sharur took a deep breath. “Mighty lugal, you tie a heavy load onto my back. I hope I am a donkey strong enough to bear the burden.”
“If you are not, where shall I find a stronger one?” Kimash asked.
He did not put the question intending that it be answered, but Sharur answered it nonetheless, and without hesitation: “Ereshguna, my father.”
The lugal pursed his lips as he considered that. “No,” he said at last. “In this, I would sooner have you. I speak not of donkeys but of rams: the young ram will go forward where the old ram would falter.” He chuckled under his breath. “The young ram will go forward where the old ram would think twice. Be my young ram, Sharur. Go forward for me. Go forward, and lead the city toward safety.”