Trella never cared for slave traders, not after her own experiences with them, but the reborn city required all the skills and trades it could find. She’d put aside her own distaste for Rasui and his calling, though now she wished otherwise.
“In a few months, if he doesn’t change his ways, we’ll send him packing,” Trella said. “But not now. We still need every trader, merchant, and worker we can entice to come here.”
During the siege, many merchants and craftsmen had left the city, most of them going to the south, some even as far as Sumeria. And except for war goods such as timber and bronze, much of Akkad’s trade had fallen off as traders sought safer places to do business. And though many people had returned to or settled in Akkad, the number of craftsmen, herders, and farmers hadn’t recovered. The situation would change soon enough, but the next six months would be critical to insure the city’s continued growth. Afterward, Akkad would be stronger than before, and individual merchants and traders would be less important.
“In another week or two,” Annok-sur said, “Asurak will be back before the council, answering some other complaint and hiding behind Rasui’s tunic.”
“Probably,” Trella agreed. “But for now, I think the real problem goes deeper. These council meetings waste most of our time on petty disputes that do little to grow the city. When we first convened the council, important matters needed to be resolved. But now, Akkad has grown too big to govern in the same way as a small village. Even Eskkar knows that. We need a new way of ruling, a way that allows the city to grow while protecting its trade and its people.”
“More changes,” Annok-sur said. “The nobles won’t like that. They’ve already given up much of their authority.”
A breeze filled the courtyard, rustling the trees and shaking some blossoms from the limbs. Both women paused for a moment, watching the tree limbs sway gracefully.
“There are nearly five thousand people in Akkad,” Trella went on. “In another few years, there may be twice as many. The number of disputes will more than double. There will be quarrels over housing, farmlands, herds, anything and everything. If there are two or three confrontations a day to be resolved now, there will be a dozen each day soon enough. No, we need to reshape Akkad’s ways now, before the sheer number of people overwhelms us.”
“No one likes change, Trella. People like things to be the way they’ve always been.”
“I know. Eskkar and I have spoken about this many times. He’s visited dozens of villages throughout the land, and seen every abuse of power possible, even here. He wants to rule Bisitun in such a way that the people there are thankful to be under Akkad’s control.”
“He’s become a different man in the last few months, because of you,”
Annok-sur said. “Now even my Bantor is starting to consider his choices with more care. He’s started worrying about the future, too.”
“New times call for new skills,” Trella said. She reached down and picked up a blossom swept against her feet. “But it pleases me to see Bantor learning new ways.” She thought for a moment, admiring the flower as she did so. “I think great change is coming for all of us, and if we do not lead the way, those changes will overwhelm us. With Bisitun to worry about, we must fi nd new ways to rule there, too, ways that don’t make the people there and here in Akkad hate our authority. Otherwise we’ll be no better than any bandit.”
“What would you change first, Trella?”
“As Eskkar says, there must be a better way to resolve disputes,” Trella answered. “It would be even better to avoid them in the first place.”
“There will always be disputes, Trella. The larger the village, the more frequent the arguments. One man’s word against another, shopkeepers and customers alike complaining about their dealings.”
“The problem, I think, is not what to change first. I think we need to change everything all at once.”
Annok-sur reached out and took Trella’s hand. “If anyone else said that, I’d laugh. But you… do you really think you can replace the customs so easily?”
“No, not easily,” Trella said, “but the sooner we start, the easier it will be. Suppose we wanted to stop merchants from sharp dealing. If all the prices for everything were written down, everyone would know them, and it wouldn’t be so easy to cheat.”
“Most people can’t read the symbols. There aren’t enough symbols anyway.”
“And that, I think, is another thing we must resolve. We must get the clerks together, and have them invent new symbols, ones needed to run a city. There would have to be many more symbols, and they would have to be written down, so that the scribes and clerks don’t forget them.”
“You’d need many more clerks, as well.”
“Yes, more clerks, more symbols, more ways to record agreements, and a person in authority to settle disputes based on these new written records. So we’d have to start there, with a new school for scribes, and a new House to administer the customs.” She shook her head, revising her thoughts. “No, they wouldn’t be customs any longer. Once they were written down, they would become laws, something that couldn’t change on a merchant’s or noble’s whim.”
“Can the people even learn the symbols?” Annok-sur countered. “If they couldn’t, they’d still be trusting some scribe or merchant to explain them.”
“People would only need to know a few basic symbols. If you’re a farmer, then you need to know about crops, bushels, hectares, and farm animals. A craftsman in the city would need to know different symbols, the ones that dealt with his craft. Only the scribes would need to know all the symbols. Whenever someone needed a contract, or to record an agreement or transaction, they would visit one of our new scribes. I think it would work, Annok-sur.”
“There would have to be rules established to maintain order,” Annok-sur said, warming to the idea. “Perhaps another House might be established, one to govern the growth of Akkad.”
“Yes, next to the building where they’ll teach and train the scribes, and store the records.”
“That will be a large house, then,” Annok-sur said, only half-jokingly.
Important contracts were written in clay, most on pottery shards about the size of a woman’s hand. Once dried, they could be duplicated, stored, and even transported. The clerks traveling with Eskkar had sent back by boat several baskets containing records, all carefully wrapped to prevent breakage. Storing large quantities of such records would require many large rooms filled with hundreds of shelves to contain the shards.
Trella leaned back, letting her shoulders rest against the wall of the house. She felt the child moving about, and rested her hand on her stomach, trying to comfort the babe within. “Still, it will give the younger sons of the prosperous merchants and craftsmen something to do, a respected calling for those who cannot inherit. Perhaps parents could list their in-heritors in advance, and so avoid all those family disputes.”
The eldest son generally, but not always, inherited the family business, a practice that often led to quarrels among brothers. When death took the head of the household, brother often fought against brother, with the loser driven out of the family.
“You will change everything, Trella. The nobles will complain about you again.”
“Perhaps. But the people, I think, would approve. As would most of the smaller shopkeepers and craftsmen. They’ll see the advantage of laws that not only protect them, but provide for stable prices in the future. It’s only those grown powerful enough to take advantage of others that will object.”
“The people rely on you, Trella. They know you and Eskkar dispense justice, not whim. They’ll trust you to keep track of their shops and farms, even their contracts, but not anyone else.”