A match with the lugal’s daughter would swiftly raise the house of Ereshguna high among the nobles of Gibil. But Sharur was sure it would not put the treasures of Gibil into his hands or those of his father. And what rose swiftly could fall swiftly, too. Sharur knew that only too well.
Bowing to Kimash, he once more picked his words with great care: “Mighty lugal, having long desired this match, as I said before, and having obtained for it the blessings of my father, of the father of my intended, and of Engibil himself, I very much hope to go forward with it.”
Kimash sighed. “You are a stubborn man. You are hard to turn aside. If you prove as stubborn in matters of the heart, if you prove as hard to turn aside in matters of your affections, the woman you wed will have little to complain of you. Before you settle once and for all time who that woman shall be, though, would it not please you to make the acquaintance of the daughters of the house of Kimash?”
Sharur bowed again, very low this time. Kimash was offering him an extraordinary concession, and he knew how extraordinary it was. “You are kind beyond my deserts, mighty lugal,” he murmured. “But I must tell you that, since Dimgalabzu and my father, since Gulal and my mother, have completed all arrangements for the wedding save only the nuptial feast, I do not see what point there might be to my meeting your no doubt lovely daughters. I think the meeting would be likelier to cause distress on all sides than to cause joy.”
“It could be so, son of Ereshguna; it could be so,” Kimash said with another sigh. “If that is the way you look on it, likely it will be so. Forcing a man to do what he truly does not wish to do is the surest way I know to make him into an enemy. Do as you wish, then, and may it be well for you, and for me, and for Gibil.”
“I thank the mighty lugal for his forbearance,” Sharur said. Only after the words had left his mouth did he realize that Kimash worried about making him an enemy. That the lugal should worry about him in any way was one more amazement out of many.
Instead of directly answering him, the lugal clapped his hands together. Inadapa appeared in the throne room in a way Habbazu might have envied: one moment he was not there, the next he was, or so it appeared to Sharur. Kimash said, “The two of us have finished our discussion. Escort Sharur back to the house of Ereshguna.”
Inadapa bowed. “Mighty lugal, as you say, so shall it be.” He turned to Sharur. “Come. I shall escort you back to the house of Ereshguna.”
“I thank you, steward to the mighty lugal.” Sharur bowed to Inadapa, and then again to Kimash. “And, once more, I thank the mighty lugal.”
Inadapa led him out through the corridors of the palace and out past the guards at the entranceway, who respectfully dipped their heads to the steward and to Sharur. Just outside the palace, Sharur and Inadapa had to wait while another gang of laborers and artisans went past. Only when the two men were walking up the Street of Smiths toward the house of Ereshguna did Inadapa say, “Do I understand correctly, then, that you shall not unite your house with the house of Kimash?”
“Steward to the lugal, you do,” Sharur replied. “Having made all arrangements to wed the daughter of Dimgalabzu the smith, I did not see how I could in good conscience break them.” Nor did I want to break them, though that is not your affair.
“And the mighty lugal permitted this?” Inadapa asked. He had been hanging around the throne room; he must have heard almost all, if not all, of what had passed between Sharur and Kimash. Yet now he sought confirmation, as if unable to believe what his ears had told him.
“The mighty lugal permitted this,” Sharur agreed. “In his forbearance, in his generosity, in his kindness, he permitted it.”
“I heard it,” the steward said. “I understood it. Having heard it, having understood it, I still have trouble believing it. For the mighty lugal to turn aside from a course on which he had settled is as untoward as for Engibil to give back an oath—which, from what you say, also came to pass. Truly, son of Ereshguna, your affairs of late have been extraordinary.”
“There, steward to the mighty lugal, I can only say that you speak the truth,” Sharur replied. If anything, the steward understated the truth: fortunately, he did not know all of it.
“Here we are, at the doorway to the house of Ereshguna.” Inadapa bowed to Sharur. “I now return to serve Kimash the mighty lugal once more, though I do not expect to be so amazed in his service again any time soon.” He set both hands on his ample belly, shook his head, and went back down the Street of Smiths toward the palace.
Sharur walked through the doorway. As soon as he was inside the house of Ereshguna, he was very glad Inadapa had not accompanied him on those last few steps, for there, talking animatedly with his father, stood Habbazu the thief.
“I greet you, master merchant’s son,” Habbazu said with a bow.
“I greet you, master thief.” Sharur politely returned the bow.
“Your father has told me you have not yet recovered the cup we gave to your intended to hold for us in the house of Dimgalabzu, unless you chanced to do so while returning from the palace of Kimash,” Habbazu said.
“My father speaks the truth, as he usually speaks the truth,” Sharur answered. “Nor did I recover the cup while returning from the palace of the mighty lugal.” He opened his hands to show they were empty. “I might have tried to recover the cup, but Inadapa, Kimash’s steward, accompanied me from the palace, and so I had no chance to go alone to the house of Dimgalabzu.”
“Yes, I can see how having the steward along would make regaining the cup more difficult.” Habbazu’s voice was dry.
“A bit, yes,” Sharur said, and the master thief smiled to hear his own tone so neatly matched.
Ereshguna said, “Before you came back from the palace, son, I had just asked whether Habbazu had recovered the cup you gave to your beloved to hold for you in the house of Dimgalabzu.”
“And I had just said no,” Habbazu added, “I did not feel so brief an introduction to your intended would have persuaded her to give me the cup in your absence, and I would have had a difficult time explaining my presence to Dimgalabzu her father.”
“Yes, I can see how that might be so, even if you have made his acquaintance as Burrapi the mercenary,” Ereshguna said. “Is that the same name you used when you met Ningal?”
“It is,” Sharur and Habbazu said together,
“Well, that is good, at any rate.” Ereshguna nodded approval.
To Habbazu, Sharur said, “Considering the trade you practice, you might have recovered the cup without meeting either Ningal my intended or Dimgalabzu her father.”
“I am, as you say, a master thief.” Habbazu bowed to Sharur. “I am a master thief who has the aid of Enzuabu, the master of thieves. But I would hesitate to steal from a smith’s house in Zuabu. Still more would I hesitate to steal from a smith’s house here in Gibil. Some of the protections I have from the god work less well around smithies than almost anywhere else.”
“Working in metal as they do, smiths deal with raw power of their own,” Ereshguna said. “Perhaps this power will become a divine power, but perhaps it will not. Because the powers of the gods are weaker around smiths and scribes—whose power over words is likewise not divine, or not yet divine—they were among the men whom Kimash set in the first ranks against Enimhursag, as you saw.”
“Yes, I did see that,” Habbazu said, nodding. “The weakening of the gods’ powers worked to their advantage then. It would work to my disadvantage, did I try to, ah, visit the house of Dimgalabzu by stealth.”
That Habbazu might hesitate before trying to rob a smith’s house did not mean he would not try, not after he had robbed a god’s temple. Sharur found another question to ask him: “When you lay down to sleep last night, did you have strange dreams?”