“What went wrong, that a thief could do nothing to prevent?” Sharur asked again.
“A doddering old fool, with a white beard down to here”—Habbazu poked his own navel with a forefinger— “came tottering out of his cubicle, as I had feared one might, most likely because his bladder could not hold the beer he had drunk with his supper and he needed to ease himself.”
Sharur thought of Ilakabkabu, whom the description fit as a swordhilt fit a man’s hand. He said, “Many of the older priests are very pious men. Having one of them.see you would be the next thing to having the god see you.”
“So I found out.” Lamplight exaggerated the lines and shadows of Habbazu’s face, making it into a mask of woe. “This old, white-bearded fool, then, saw me, and his eyes went so wide, I thought they would bug out of his head. Would that they had bugged out of his head! Would that he had been stricken blind years ago! However doddering he is, he still has a fine screech, like that of an owl in a thorn- bush. Other priests started tumbling out of their cubicles, and they all started chasing me.”
“How could you escape them?” Sharur asked. “It is not your house. It is the house of Engibil. Yet you eluded the priests of the god in his house. Truly you must be a master thief.”
“Truly I am a master thief,” Habbazu agreed with just a hint of smugness. “Truly I am a master thief of Zuabu, sent forth to steal by Enzuabu himself. I have ways and means most thieves have not.”
Again, he did not describe what those ways and means were. Sharur’s trade had secrets of its own, too. He said, “I am glad these ways and means let you get free.”
“Master merchant’s son, believe me when I tell you that you are not half so glad as I am,” Habbazu answered. “I did not know if these ways and means would suffice, not until I left the temple itself and found you faithfully awaiting me.
“Would another attempt soon be worthwhile?” Sharur asked. “Or will the priests and guards in and around Engibil’s temple be too wary to do what you must do?”
“They will be wary,” Habbazu said. “They will surely be wary. But, if we are to do this thing, we had better do it soon. Before long, by what I saw, the army of Gibil will have beaten the army of Imhursag. Before long, by what I saw, Engibil will no longer need to watch out for Enimhursag. Then he will watch out for his temple, and theft will grow more difficult.”
“You said you could steal the cup even with the god at home in his temple,” Sharur reminded him.
“Yes, I said that. I still think it is true. I still think I could steal the cup with the god at home in his temple,” Habbazu said. “But, as I said just now, theft will grow more difficult with the god at home in his temple. And”—he hesitated, as if regretting the admission he was about to make—“I may have been wrong.”
“Ah,” Sharur said, and no more than ah. At least the thief could admit he might have been wrong. Many, perhaps even most, of the men Sharur knew would go ahead with a plan once made for no better reason than that they had made it. After a pause for thought, Sharur continued, “Then you are right. If we are to do this thing, we had better do it soon.”
“It will not be easy, with the priests alerted,” Habbazu said. “It will not be simple, with the guards on the lookout for a thief.”
“That is so.” Sharur sat in dejection, staring at the pot of beer. Then, little by little, he brightened. “It would not be easy, with the priests alerted,” he said. “It would not be simple, with the guards on the lookout for a thief. If they are all looking in a different direction, matters may be otherwise.”
“Indeed, master merchant’s son, you speak the truth there,” Habbazu said, nodding. “Any thief or mountebank soon learns as much. Distract a man, and you will have no trouble stealing from him. Distract him, and he is easy to fool.”
“Merchants learn as much, too,” Sharur said. “Who turned Engibil’s eyes from the temple to the border with Imhursag?” He waited for Habbazu to nod again, then went on, “We can turn the priests’ eyes from the temple, too.”
“Tomorrow?” Habbazu asked eagerly.
“That would be too soon, I think,” Sharur answered. “But the day after ...”
The square in front of Engibil’s temple was not nearly so fine and broad as the market square of Gibil. It was, though, large enough to hold a surprising number of entertainers of all sorts. Musicians played flutes and pipes and drums and horns, each ensemble’s tune clashing with those of its neighbors.
In front of one fluteplayer, a shapely woman wearing a linen shift so thin, she might as well have been naked, danced and swayed to the rhythm of his music. In front of another fluteplayer, a trained snake similarly danced and swayed. Sharur’s eyes kept sliding back and forth from the woman to the snake as he tried to decide which of them moved more sinuously. For the life of him, he could not make up his mind.
“Come one!” he called, a merchant out to make his sale. “Come all! Gibil wars against Imhursag, aye, but Gibil forgets not those who fight not. Here is an entertainment to lighten the hearts of those who wait within the city walls, to help them forget their worries.”
Boys paid with broken bits of copper shouted the same message—or as much of it as they could remember— through the streets of Gibil. Men who had not gone to fight the Imhursagut and women who could not go to fight the Imhursagut crowded into the open space in front of Engibil’s temple to leave their cares behind for a time.
Jugglers kept cups and dishes and knives and little statues spinning through the air. An enterprising and nimblefingered fellow used three cups and a chickpea to extract property from the spectators who tried to guess where it was hidden. He won so regularly, Sharur thought he had to be cheating. But Sharur could not see how he was doing it, and did not care to pay for instruction.
From the entranceway into Engibil’s temple, the guards stared out eagerly at the performers before them. Priests also watched from the top of the wall around the temple, and from the high stairways within. From the corner of his eye, Sharur watched them watching. He made sure he watched them watching only from the comer of his eye.
He knew Habbazu was somewhere nearby. He did not know where. He did not try to watch for the Zuabi thief at all. Habbazu knew his own business best. Sharur was trying to give him the best chance he could to conduct that business without the risk of being disturbed.
Presently, priests began coming out of the temple and into the square. Some of them clapped their hands to the music. Some watched the snake sway. Some watched the pretty girl sway. Some proceeded to prove they were no better than any other man at guessing under which cup the chickpea lay.
After a while, the priest named Burshagga strode up to Sharur. The two men bowed to each other. Burshagga said, “Do I understand rightly that we have you to thank for this entertainment spread out before us?”
Sharur did his best to look self-effacing. “I thought those left in the city could use a bit of joy while our army repels the Imhursagut. I fought in the first battle, and came back to Gibil to put a captive into the hands of Ushurikti the slave dealer. Soon I shall return to the fighting. In the meanwhile, why should we not be as merry as we can?”
“I see no reason why we should not be as merry as we can,” Burshagga replied. “As I said, we have you to thank for this entertainment spread out before us. No less than men of other trades, priests enjoy merriment.”
“This was my thought. This was why I decided to set the entertainment here,” said Sharur, who did indeed want the priests merry—and distracted. But then he pointed in the direction of the entranceway. “Not all your colleagues, I would say, hold the same view.”