《The Moon Lord's Ruin》 Prologue - The Little Death Miszatu "So you''re sure you''re going to go through with it?!" Shelibutu hissed through her teeth. "Yeah, I mean, I don''t see what the big fuss is." Miszatu whispered. The girls'' hushed conversation was interrupted by the echoing slap of the schoolmaster''s cane. Across the classroom, Mullil-Shehushu, their delinquent classmate, continued to err repeatedly in his accounting lessons. The two cowered behind their desk in the growing severity of their schoolmaster''s irritation before their desire to gossip once again overwhelmed their fear of authority. "Well, didn''t Sister Kabtaya say that you had to die or something!?" Shelibutu asked with a tone of disgust. "What!? No, it''s like..." Miszatu leaned in closer and whispered into her best friend''s ear. "It''s like, if you read the old liturgy and stuff, they talk about how sleep is really a little death. It''s just a metaphor." "Hmph! And then you''ll be a ''riddler''... I don''t see what good it will do you though! I''m just sticking to music. Everybody likes the sound of the meritu!" Shelibutu muttered dismissively. "It''s a very valuable service, actually!" Miszatu tried to explain, raising her voice with a tinge of indignation. "All sorts of people need help understanding what the gods tell them in their dreams! A hayyadu teases out the signs and helps them prepare for the consequences!" "I guess." Shelibutu grumbled. "But thinking too much about that kind of stuff freaks me out!" The class overseer, Enki-Kalama-Idi, turned from Mullil-Shehushu''s shoulder and shot the two girls the evil eye. With the swiftness of vipers, Shelibutu and Miszatu ducked their vision to the list of ancient kings they were assigned to copy and raced the tip of their reed styli across the length of their practice tablets. Enki-Kalama-Idi''s gaze held on them for only a moment before he returned to his chastisement of Mullil-Shehushu. Looking over the boy''s shoulder, the scribe lunged down and smudged his thumb over the erroneous marks in the clay, barking "Wrong! The digit carries over! Write it over again! Neater this time!" Shelibutu snickered. Miszatu did not. Sweat-sodden Mullil-Shehushu glanced back at the girls from across the room with a furrowed brow. Again the cruel and stinging tap of the instructors'' rod on his shoulder drove his attention back to his tabulations. "I wish he would stop doing that." Miszatu uttered. "Hm?" Shelibutu prodded. "Does the side of the cane really aid in Mullil-Shehushu''s understanding? I am tired of watching his beatings." Miszatu said. "It''s his own fault for not being sharper, or at least not working harder! If it were not him we would be the ones coming home with bruises!" Shelibutu reasoned. For some reason that Miszatu had difficulty grasping, the sound of each smack of punishment dealt to Mullil-Shehushu that afternoon continued to ring in her ears long afterward. After class had ended for the day, the sisters walked back from the tablet-house down the slope of Zumun''s sacred road. As Shamash began to descend towards the mountains, the Eykurkugbabbarani zikkuratu shone bright its white alabaster walls in his red glow. From the great temple mound they descended towards the canal into the beehive-like streets of the old town, eventually coming to the lovely powder blue walls of the E-Sirara''s courtyard. The cry of one of the grounds'' peacocks heralded their arrival.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. Shelibutu stopped outside the gate and looked into Miszatu''s brown eyes. "Well, I guess I won''t see you for the rest of the night. I just want to wish you good luck!" Shelibutu declared in a rare moment of bared sincerity, throwing herself at her friend and wrapping her arms around her in a big hug. "I don''t care what the lady wants, you better come back to me!" Miszatu smiled and kissed her on the forehead. "Oh silly, it''s one night! You won''t even notice I''m gone." she said. "Oh yeah I will!" she laughed, pushing open the gate. Miszatu noticed as Shelibuttu stealthily brushed away a tear from the corner of her eye with her elbow. Standing in the center of the courtyard beneath the shade of Mesumun, the sanctuary''s sacred kishkanu tree, stood Miszatu''s older sisters, Ahatu Erishtu and Ahatu Kabtaya. Shelibutu took one last look at Miszatu and smiled before turning to head towards her chamber. "Shulmu, Ahatu Miszatu!" the young and elder woman greeted her in tandem. "Shulmu, Ahatiyya!" Miszatu replied, bowing and clasping her hands over her belly. "Sister Miszatu, Shamash has entered the netherworld. Will you be joining him?" the elderly Ahatu Kabtaya asked. "If it please my lady that she should intercede on my behalf in his presence!" Miszatu affirmed. "Good, then go make yourself pure and come to the chapel." Ahatu Erishtu bade. Miszatu returned to her apartment cell around the courtyard to rub the sacred cedar oil across her skin. Then she put on her most precious gunakku gown of purest lamb''s wool. When she was ready she walked to the entrance of the ancient E-Sirara chapel. Sister Erishtu greeted her and offered Miszatu a final caution in her heavenly voice: "O Miszatu, are sure you sure that you are ready to become a hayyadu? Once you do you will hear and see secret things that others cannot, so that you should serve our lady not only in your days, but also in your nights. Many things you take for granted will be made strange to you! Are you sure that you wish to proceed?" Miszatu nodded. Sister Erishtu opened the chapel door. The sanctuary was covered in lamps and torches which flickered their glowing reflections onto the black surface of the lady''s sacred pond. The scales of the sagely apkallu fish, which floated gently in the lady''s abyss, glittered gold. The old sleepers stared out of the alcoves like curious stray dogs and cats in the night. The flame''s glow did justice to the soft features of Lady Nanshe herself, who stood tall in her long feathered gown, the same kind as Miszatu wore, and gazed down at her initiate with an accepting smile. The lady''s chamber, which Sister Erishtu had fumigated with incense of juniper and qunubu, could not have seemed more auspicious and inviting. Sister Erishtu outstretched her palm and bade Miszatu to lie on her back before the image of Lady Nanshe. She lay so, and began to ask Sister Erishtu a question, but Sister Erishtu gazed into Miszatu''s eyes with judgment and pressed her index finger to her lips to shush her. Erishtu produced an offering bowl and drew from it a ration of flatbread, which she dabbed and wiped across Miszatu''s skin and clothes, sponging her sister''s impurities as one does to a corpse before burial. As with those on the verge of death, a chair for her ghost had been set beside Miszatu. Then Erishtu got up, glanced at her young sister without warmth, and walked away. All Miszatu was left with was the face of her lady, gazing down upon her. In spite of how graceful and auspicious the ceremony was, Miszatu was tired and restless. She could not sleep. The eyes of the watchers and her goddess weighed heavily upon her, and fear and excitement intermingled in her heart. Yet she lay still. She did not know for how long, until finally, in her exhaustion, she began to softly murmur the old lullabye her wetnurse used to sing to her as a little girl. It is the song every Akkadu child knows by heart: "O Little One, who dwelt in the house of darkness, Well here you are outside! why do you weep!? Why do you cry!? Why didn''t you just wail in there? The spirit of the house perks his ears, the old kusarrikum, the hearth lord stirs, Perturbed he whsipers "Who disturbed me!? Who woke me up!?" ''O Kusarrikum, the little one cries! the little one weeps!'' And the old lord of the house takes pity and sighs, ''Like sippers of spirits, like slothful drunkards, Let Lord Dream pour forth before you''~" And uttering that tune is the last thing she remembered of the night before Lord Ziqiqu seized her. Chapter 1 (A) - The Omen Nawirnushu That night Ziqiqu had placed Nawirnushu in a cold, dark place. On the black earth he shuddered as a chilling wind whirled across a great mountainous expanse. ''Where is this place? My lord is missing in the sky and I cannot see one single star!'' He lamented. The howling of those harsh gales inspired such terror in the man! Frantically, Nawirnushu searched for his gods in his heart, but he could not find them there. A despair seized him. Yet the Lord Dream is merciful, and in that moment, when sorrow had taken hold of Nawirnushu, Ziqiqu lifted his veil, and the wind ceased. His location changed. He was lying in his bed, in his own chamber. It was night. Nawirnushu could not see Zumun in the sky, and his pale light did not illuminate his surroundings. For some time he lay over the bed. For some time he lay in silence. Then a person appeared in the doorway. It was Reshaya, his first wife. Nawirnushu could not see her fully. She was all in shadow. She said "Husband, you must hasten! The feast cannot start without you!" Nawirnushu was out of bed. He put on the clothes that had been set out for him. Before him on the dresser lay a gunakku kilt, a finely tailored traditional costume, frayed like feathers, just as the old nugalene of his fair city used to wear. Reshaya led Nawirnushu out of his room and through the upper courtyard toward the royal garden''s patio. Now the face of Zumun shone pure, and his queen was made beautiful by him. She wore iridescent jewelry which glittered in his radiance. A little silver dove sat perched upon her diadem. Her old-fashioned dress was woven from lamb''s wool, speckled in stripes of tastefully faint greens, blues, purples, and greys. Nawirnushu gazed into her eyes, but she did not look back on him with warmth. "My husband, we must not dally!" Reshaya implored. "Like Ninanna, My wife is beautiful but severe." Nawirnushu conceded, and smiled softly.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. The muffled rythym of a drum was heard throughout the palace. The rumbling echoed through the garden when they arrived at the banquet together. Before them, between the palms and ferns, mingled a large crowd of about a hundred and fifty people, gathered around in small circular clusters of chairs. In the centers they shared wine-jars that were a forearm and a half tall, and the feast lay on a long spread at the far end of the patio, piled in enormous quantities of the most succulent goat, steak, cheese, fruit, and sweet breads. The tables faced the far end of the balcony overlooking the royal canal, where a band''s instruments were setting up. Between the frantic banquet and the constant percussion, Nawirnushu lost his foundation, and when he came back to his senses, his queen had left him. It seemed she went one way. It seemed as though she went another way. Nawirnushu decided he would not be bothered by her absence. ''Surely she will delight for many hours in the company of the courtly ladies.'' He thought. Nawirnushu did not desire food, because for some reason the air smelled thickly of juniper, and it did not agree with his stomach, so he decided to walk across the patio between some gatherings of men also wearing the same gunakku kilts. This is a play that Nawirnushu would delight in at parties, mingling among his courtiers in common dress, seeing their hearts at ease before they become aware of his authority. ''A falsehood in good taste'', he would say. Nawirnushu strolled between the gatherings, but upon observing the exchanges of his subjects, he immediately recognized his caprice had been foiled, for he was the only one at the banquet not donning a mask. The circles about which he hovered held many men seated together, giggling in drunkeness behind faces of wide-eyed mirth, sinister arched-brow sneers, and heavy-lipped sorrows. He tried to listen in on the stories that seemed to so possess them, but to each conversation he seemed to only ever arrive to hear the very end of the punchline, as if an old saying, the meaning of which is made obscure with time even to the most diligent scribe. Because Nawirnushu did not take pleasure in the conversations of those strange people, he wandered out onto the patio of the royal gardens, surrounded by sweet flowers and softly swaying willow trees, sitting across from mirthful faces, cast orange in torchlight. He took a chair around an untapped drinking vat and in short measure his mouth was flooded with the sweet taste of date beer, and numbed by the faint burn of the alcohol as he drew through the long reed-straw out of the enormous clay jar before him. As Nawirnushu looked out across the garden balcony''s view he gazed upon Zumun, floating in the blackness, shimmering over the canal''s surface, his glow stretched across the courtyard''s open skyline. The king looked out over his city, and took solace in Nusku''s light, which flickered out of every home''s window. Likewise along the balcony before him, the players'' stage was perfectly aligned with his lord in the sky so as to be lit by Zumun''s splendour, and Nusku also danced across the braziers, so that it might aid the fingers of the harpist and the flautist. The musicians prepared their instruments. Chapter 1 (B) - The Omen The first musician Nawirnushu noticed immediately, as he had been playing since he entered the courtyard. He was a young man, his vision shrouded behind a blindfold. He continued to beat down in a somber, slow tempo on a traditional lillizu drum which stood up to his waist. Next to him was a huge man with a firm chest and broad shoulders who stood next to the enormous alu gong, fashioned from the sacrificed hides of four whole oxen. The enormous gong stood almost twice his size! Nawirnushu shuddered to imagine the sound of the wild bull''s bellowing! Another man with a blindfold sat hunched over, tuning his pitnu lute. After some moments of fiddling, when the other three highest strings finally complimented the lowest, he began to pick boldly between the bass notes, multiplying the dreadful foreboding of the alu''s severe beat. The metal chains and bells which hung from the end of the pitnu''s fretboard tinkled softly as he drew each string. A slender girl in a speckled wool gown took her seat beside the kinarru harp that towered over her. Her long black hair draped her face as her long fingers fidgeted with the instrument''s kamma, tightening and loosening each of the strings for the perfect pitch. The sound of the strings twanged from youthful to mature at her detailed adjustments. The kinarru itself was incredible, vivid scenes of wild animals dancing and feasting were inlaid across its wooden frame. Out from its bottom peeked the full-sized face of a friendly horned bull, painted in black, white, and gold. It was the very spitting image of Ninigizibara, the legendary kinarru long lost to the city during the Hanigalbatu occupation. Nawirnushu marveled at the integrity of the replica. A clean-shaven man wearing an excessive amount of makeup and eye-shadow stood straight, his hands behind his back, with a very serious expression on his face. He was the nargallu, reserved as austere decoration until his deep voice would be sparsely called upon in the verse. A short man, his eyes also sewn asleep, with a thin beard and a bowl haircut, stood holding a long ebubbu pipe carved from two river reeds. The pipes must have been at least two forearms long, and the instrument the man held at his shoulders looked as though it could topple him over. In the corner of the stage, a heavy-set man with a thick beard, whose great belly protruded forth from the top of his kilt, practiced breathing exercises next to a table on which was set an enormous ox qarnu. I imagined the noise of the great horn and trembled! An old woman in a black wool gown held an ornate duwahu tamberine cast in silver and bronze. The instrument''s metalcraft was unusually ornate, a glittering, drooping shrub of spades and crescents. Perhaps it was an heirloom from her youth? In the front row at the bottom there was even a group of five nude, rowdy, little children who each held a little whistle, rattle, cymbal, or shaker. As their elders in the band had finished preparing, they haphazardly quieted themselves and formed rank alongside each other.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! Finally, after each piece of the band had finished preparing their instruments, a woman stepped forth, the zammartu. She focused on her breathing slowly and held firm the halhallatu drum under her shoulder. The zammartu wore a pure white wool gown and a silver headdress ornamented with Zumun''s crescent which sat perched above her forehead. She was the spitting image of Pakinana, or one of the other great entu priestesses or noble ladies of Kharani''s silver age. Her beauty captured the king''s heart and took his breath away! Yet such pleasure to Nawirnushu''s eyes were interrupted, as two men now approached the open circle of seats which he had claimed, and sat down beside Nawirnushu before he could get up. "Ah-hah! It is wonderful that you should join us, your grace!" Said the jolly man who had taken a seat at Nawirnushu''s right. His voice was smooth and bold and his enthusiasm matched well with the mirthful mask he wore. "Yes yes yes! We panicked when we thought we''d lost you" added the other, also wearing a mask of similarly wide-eyed expression, yet his voice was raspy and soft, as though quivering with trepidation. Nawirnushu smiled politely. "Who are you?" he asked. "Isn''t it obvious, my king? I am your exceedingly distant yet exceedingly esteemed predecessor, Nugal Idin-Zumun, and I am accompanied by the immortal poet of my court, Nabi-Utu!" the man said, pointing to his mask. Nabi-Utu silently nodded in turn and pointed to his own mask. "It is as you say, your holiness." Nawirnushu deferred with wit. These fools spoke to him with a boldness which to any other king would be treasonous, but Nawirnushu had a special fondness for those unexpected exchanges where his station was ignored. "Thank you, noble descendant! Now, if it please you, my friend Nabi-Utu would sing a zamaru he has written of your great accomplishments and strength of character!" Nabi-Utu lowered his head and knelt to his knee before Nawirnushu. If the context had not already been in jest, Nawirnushu would have read this mocking subservience to be seditious. Nawirnushu rose to leave and tried to excuse himself: "Oh, pardon me, but I must surely relieve-" "Oh, please my king, soothe Nabi-Utu''s heart! It is but a single kirugu in length, composed in your honor!" imposed the man masquerading as Idin-Zumun. Often had Nawirnushu contemplated the plight of an artist''s heart, and so, his knees unwilling to support his flight, he nodded acknowledgment, though quite bewildered. ''Who is this man masquerading as the great bard?'' he wondered. Nabi-Utu stood up and cleared his throat. He began the recitation of his zamaru in a most elegant emesal speech, utterly unlike the previous anxiety which gripped his voice, through which Nawirnushu struggled to anticipate his flourishes: "King Nawirnushu, You, whose heart sails like the moonlight of your Lord Zumun. Righteous Shakkanakku!, You, who strikes as the lightning cast by Lord Adad, Mighty Nugal, the abundance of Dagan swells in the fields of Kharani for You, You who rose up out of exile, like the calf that lost its mother in the reeds, You who revenged your father like Asalluhi, You who slew the usurper as Erra, You who stormed the rings of Kharani and seized Lord Zumun''s approval, You stand here between two lands! two countries! The Akkadu! The Amuru! So many choices! So much heartache! So much power! So much conflict! Yet behind it all there is only one home, one city: Fairest Kharani. And its fate shall be your fate. That is your regal privilege! Alas, It would not be sorrowful if what was lost was not so sweet." Chapter 1 (C) - The Omen Nawirnushu bolted from his seat, his head whoozy from drink but hot-blooded in anger. He barked at Nabi-Utu: "By Nungal, Damn You! who do you think you are to jeer such wicked satire to your king!" But at the end of his recital, without remarking upon the king''s outrage, Nabi-Utu tucked his left arm behind his back, and presented the crowd to Nawirnushu with his other arm outstretched with an open palm. The classic pose of a minister. As Nawirnushu eyes began to wander from the tips of Nabi-Utu''s fingers his gaze became entranced by a disturbing scene out in the center of the garden. Before him, in the torch and moonlight, spun a ring of dancers, revolving round and round like the unfurling of a cylinder seal upon wet clay. They circled at a lolly pace, taking one another by the palm and exchanging parallel partners in courtly fashion, turning to and fro, but the characters of these dancers was anything but civilized. Their bodies writhed alternately fat and slender and covered in thick hair, more akin to the flesh of bulls and goats and donkeys than of men. With each movement of their dance the whole garden seemed to shake and stir at the clopping of their hoofs upon the tiles. Atop their heads pricked crescent horns and leaf-like ears, and up to the sky they bleated in shrill cries and braying, proclaiming some sentiment which the king could not discern between wails of mourning or of jubiliation. Above them in a halo seemed to hover birds with black wings and long talons that Nawirnushu could only barely trace in the moonlight. Nawirnushu could not look any longer upon this surreal and horrifying spectacle. He averted his eyes to the audience to seek relief from the uncanniness, and that is when he noticed a face in the crowd that bore the very personage of Nugal Itud. It was by his angular face and enormous eyes that Nawirnushu recognized him, identical to the ancient king''s likeness which rests in the palace crypt. Itud, it is said, was the man who set the foundation of the first city walls of Kharani. ''What must he think of what had become of that culdesac of huts he lay on a swamp?'' Nawirnushu wondered, his attention now mercifully seized by such seemingly innocuous curiosity. Nawirnushu''s gaze dug deeper into the periphery of his vision to see a crowd of lords and ladies wrapt in the audience of a flamboyant woman dressed in a wine-red gown, from which were draped peacock feathers. On her head she was crowned in a golden tiara. She was the very image of Nugal Pakinana, the most infamous of the Silver Age queens who dressed to impersonate her patroness, the goddess Ninanna.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. Sitting at the table down from the lady and her admirers was an enormous man, his mask''s bearded face and heavy brow unmistakable as that of Kharani''s conqueror of the Akkadu age, the ensi, Sharrukan. The features of his severe face played menacing shadows in the flickering firelight, though the dramatic humility of the scene of Kharani''s great warrior in all his prowess quietly sipping a straw by the fire was almost comical. The king desperately stuffed his ghoulish vouyerism further down the drinking straw and noticed the chubby visage of Esha Kisrisulupi staring at him from across the table with a big grin on his hairless round face. Kisrisulupi was Kharani''s famous Hatti merchant-king, and though it was Sarri-Kusuh who restored to Kharani its rule of law, and Kupanta-Hapantali who restored to Kharani its dignity, it was Kisrisulupi who returned the condition of abundance to Kharani. The fat man tipped his silver tankard to Nawirnushu graciously. Then there emerged before Nawirnushu a familiar figure who walked to his table and sat beside him. It took only a moment to recognize his masked visitor as his father, and a moment more to hold-fast his racing heart. For it could not have been his true father, yet the visitor sat with the same tall and broad stature of the man Nawirnushu so loved. The man who seemed to pose as Shakkunakku Imeirilu wore a shocking facsimile of his death mask, his weathered cheeks still as Nawirnushu remembered them from boyhood. Without speaking to his son, he reached his arm out and gripped his shoulder, as though to support his foundation. In that moment such utterances welled to burst forth from Nawirnushu''s heart! There were so many words he wanted to tell his father. So many things he wanted to ask him. "How did you rule? What was it that made you a good king? Am I a good king? How bears your heart in the decisions that you made when you bore the crown as I now do?" The time before their sharing had been severed was but such a brief moment, and Nawirnushu had been so young when the yoke of fate was thrust upon his shoulders. Yet beyond his father''s gaze, Nawirnushu peered past his shoulders and met the eyes of that villain, Mullil-Bel-Abli. A great anxiety lurched in his stomach. Nawirnushu shielded his father with his arm and reached to draw his sword from his hip as he braced himself for the strike of the usurper''s blade. He resolved that he would rather die than to lose his father to such a villain''s cruelty a second time! Chapter 1 (D) The Lamentation Then pitch blackness decends. There is a brief moment of silence before the plunge into sensation...and... before the whole banquet, in Zumun''s silver sheen, the players are illuminated. The qarnu roars. The lillizu beats at slow pace. The pitnu compliments the bass. The mood is set. The song is a melancholy balangu. The singers begin to slowly sway left and right, like cypress branches in the breeze. Then, with impeccable grace, the young woman at the kinnaru plucked a sad tune of long intervals. The kinnaru''s sound was like a mouthful of deep wine. The kinnaru held a deep grip on Nawirnushu''s heart. Its tune was tragic. The nargallu stepped forward. He outstretched his arm. With great command he proclaimed his song as the powerful voice of Lord Zumun: ?????? ???? ???? ?? ???????? dZu-En kur-a-ni-ki mu?3 mi-ni-in-ga "Zumun has turned his back on fair Kharani!" The strings ceased, but the drums continued unabated. Then the shulpu cried, the ebubbu replied to a whistle from the malulu, like the call of strange birds. Every member of the band with a free mouth softly chanted the repeating chorus, like a lyrical whisper: ?????? ???? ama?-a-na lil2-e "Now the winds have swept his flock" After the chant, the alu gonged, and the metal of the duwahu rattled and tinkled. Then the pitnu and the kinnaru resumed their tunes under the supervision of the uninterrupted beat of the lillizu drum. This pattern repeated through the rest of the kirugu: ???????? ???? ?? ?? ???????? DU-mu-un iri-a-ni mu?3 mi-ni-in-ga "The Lord has turned his back on the city" ?????? ???? ama?-a-na lil2-e "Now the winds have swept his flock" ???? ?????? ?? ?? ???????? DUd e2-gal-a-ni mu?3 mi-ni-in-ga "Utu has turned his back on the palace" ?????? ???? ama?-a-na lil2-e "Now the winds have swept his flock" ???? ?????? ?? ???????? DIm kur-e-ne mu?3 mi-ni-in-ga "Ishkur has turned his back on the hills" ?????? ???? ama?-a-na lil2-e "Now the winds have swept his flock" ?????? ?????? ?? ?? ???????? dDagan a-?ag4-a-ni mu?3 mi-ni-in-ga "Dagan has turned his back on his fields" ?????? ???? ama?-a-na lil2-e "Now the winds have swept his flock" ?????? ?????? ?? ???????? DSig-sig a2-nu-da mu?3 mi-ni-in-ga "Ziqiqu has turned his back on the bed chambers" ?????? ???? ama?-a-na lil2-e "Now the winds have swept his flock" Then at this verse of the Kirugu, the zammartu herself stepped forward. Her voice was sweet as honey, but serious in tone. She chanted in tandem with the girl behind the kinnaru, who had a raspier, lower voice. ???????? ?? ?? ???????? Ga-sha-an-abXhal kar2 mu?3 mi-ni-in-ga "Gashanshe has turned her back on the docks" ?????? ???? ama?-a-na lil2-e "Now the winds have swept her flock" ???????? ???? ?? ???????? Ga-sha-an-inanna ki-lam mu?3 mi-ni-in-ga "Gashananna has turned her back on the souk" ?????? ???? ama?-a-na lil2-e "Now the winds have swept her flock" ???????? ???? ?? ???????? Ga-sha-an-inanna E2-esh2 mu?3 mi-ni-in-ga "Gashangal has turned her back on the prison" ?????? ???? ama?-a-na lil2-e "Now the winds have swept his flock" ???????????????? ???? ?? ?? ?? ???????? Ga-sha-an-ha-pa-an-ta-li zag-a-ni mu?3 mi-ni-in-ga "Gashan Hapantali has turned her back on her district," ?????? ???? ama?-a-na lil2-e Now the winds have swept her flock" ?????????? ?? ?? ???????? Ga-sha-an-hur-sag ki mu?3 mi-ni-in-ga "Gashanhursag has turned her back on the land" ?????? ???? ama?-a-na lil2-e "Now the winds have swept her flock" ???????? ?????? ?? ???????? Ga-sha-an-naga e2-dub-ba mu?3 mi-ni-in-ga "Gashanisaba has turned her back on the schoolhouse" ?????? ???? ama?-a-na lil2-e "Now the winds have swept her flock" ?????????? ?????? ?? ???????? Ga-sha-an-ba-u2 e2-ur-gir15 mu?3 mi-ni-in-ga "Gashan Bau has turned her back on the dog house" ?????? ???? ama?-a-na lil2-e "Now the winds have swept her flock" ???????? ?????? ?? ?? ???????? Ga-sha-an-ezenXla u2-gu7-a-ni mu?3 mi-ni-in-ga "Gashangulbana has turned her back on the pastures" ?????? ???? ama?-a-na lil2-e "Now the winds have swept her flock" Then the nargallu took over the first lines again: ?????? ?????????? ?? ???????? Dmul-lil2 im-si-a-e-ne mu?3 mi-ni-in-ga "Mullil has turned his back on the clouds," ?????? ???? ama?-a-na lil2-e "Now the winds have swept his flock" ?????? ???? ?? ???????? DEn-ki Did2 mu?3 mi-ni-in-ga "Enki has turned his back on the canal" ?????? ???? ama?-a-na lil2-e "Now the winds have swept his flock" ???? ???? ?? ???????? dAn ur3-bad3 mu?3 mi-ni-in-ga "An has turned his back on the rooftops" ?????? ???? ama?-a-na lil2-e "Now the winds have swept his flock" ?????????? ???????? DGish-bar suh7 mu?3 mi-ni-in-ga "Nusku has turned his back on the chambers," ?????? ???? ama?-a-na lil2-e "Now the winds have swept his flock" ?????????????? ???????? DNin-ngir2-su bad3 mu?3 mi-ni-in-ga "Ningirsu has turned his back on the walls," ?????? ???? ama?-a-na lil2-e "Now the winds have swept his flock" ???????????? ???????? ?? ???????? DGIR3-ir11-ra-gal har-ra-an-kalag mu?3 mi-ni-in-ga "Nergal has turned his back on the barracks," ?????? ???? ama?-a-na lil2-e "Now the winds have swept his flock" ???????? ?????? ?? ???????? dpa-sag(-ga2) Sila3-e-ne mu?3 mi-ni-in-ga "Hendursanga has turned his back on the streets," ?????? ???? ama?-a-na lil2-e "Now the winds have swept his flock" ???????? ???? ?? ???????? Dshu-mu-kan gesh-gi mu?3 mi-ni-in-ga "Shumuqan has turned his back on the thicket," ?????? ???? ama?-a-na lil2-e "Now the winds have swept his flock" And by this point, even Nawirnushu had become lulled by this like verse, and had become lost in his own heart. -Then all the instruments, even the drums, stopped. The courtyard fell silent. The zammartu raised her arms in a dramatic gesture of mourning and cried out the gishgingal: "Now the winds have swept her flock, she wails in grief for them. O Great Bull, no more does your song fill the pasture! No longer does the pasture bring joy to the shepherd and sheep!" Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. -Then, to Nawirnushu''s surprise, the huge man blew the horn, first with enough force that he was certain the sound must have echoed beyond the city walls like a lion''s roar! It must have roused all manner of things in the night, but the man changed his posture, and the call of the horn evened into a rumbling drone. It was over this drone that the rattles and tambourines took on a clapping beat, and the pitnu and the kinnaru switched lead and rythym. The zammartu sung her lyrics, the first part with a sweet, high voice, and then the second part with the same low humming in her throat each time: "O Zumun, the dirge is bitter," Then, as before, everyone but the singers and the musicians with wind instruments chanted the reply. This line in reply was only accompanied by a mopey tune out of the ebubbu: "This sad song that is sung of you" The rattling of the duwahu always trailed its final syllable, followed by a short exchange between the alu and the lilizu. Then the pattern once again repeated through the verse: "O fair city, the dirge is bitter" "This sad song that is sung of you." "For His Mountain, the dirge is bitter," This sad song that is sung of you "O fairest Kharani," -But then here the whole band sang the second part of the responding verse: "The dirge is bitter The sad song that is sung for you is bitter," "Your dirge is bitter, fair city" "This sad song that is sung of you" "Forlorn Kharani, the dirge is bitter" "This sad song that is sung of you" Then the zammartu sung the rest of the verses in a voice like whimpering. Her announcements and replies scored by a somber companionship between the ebbubu flute and the chirping of the children''s whistles. "How many nights must this sad song bring tears to the heart of Zumun? How many nights must this sad song bring tears to the heart of Our Lord?" The questions were answered with a melancholy pitnu solo. The next verse returned to the established pattern: "O brick-stacked Kharani, the dirge is bitter" "This sad song that is sung of you" "O E-Kur-Babbar, House of the White Mountain, the dirge is bitter" "This sad song that is sung of you" "O E-Sirara, House of the Bay, the dirge is bitter," "This sad song that is sung of you" "O E-kar-kara, House of the Supreme Shining, the dirge is bitter" "This sad song that is sung of you" "O E-Mul, House of the Star, the dirge is bitter" "This sad song that is sung of you" "O-Shesh-Kar, House of the Bright Brother, the dirge is bitter" "This sad song that is sung of you" "O E-Sig-Babbar-Kissri, House of the White Wool Comb, the dirge is bitter "This sad song that is sung of you" "O E-Sig-Mes, House of the Black Wood, the dirge is bitter" "This sad song that is sung of you" Then the kirugu took on a new shape. Now the two female singers, the zammartu and the kinnaru harpist, replied to the announcements of the nargulu. The nargulu''s call, a boisterous proclamation of splendour, was accompanied by a hopeful tune on the pitnu. Nargulu: "O Kharani, your name is sweet to our lips" The women''s reply came paired with a stronger and more serious melody on the balangu. Zammartu: "but now you are in ruins." Nargulu: "O Mountain, your defenses rose high." Zammartu: "but your lands were laid waste." Briefly roles were reversed. Zammartu: "O Nanshe, like a motherly ewe" Nargulu: "your lamb has been snatched. O Zumun, like a stubborn he-goat," Zammartu: "your kid has been dashed upon the rocks." Nargulu: "O Temple, your purity," All: "it has been contaminated, your very foundation has been made foreign to you!" An ebubbu shriek hung off that last syllable. As if a woman wailing, the zammartu, noticeably tearing at the eyes, accompanied by the the ebubbu and the whistles and ocarinas, again called forth that most painful mystery: "How many nights must this sad song bring tears to the heart of our lord? How many nights must this sad song bring tears to the heart of Zumun?" All the instruments fell silent, and the zammartu, her face soaked in tears, called forth the gishgingal: "In his fair city, now of ruins, its dirge is bitter. In his fair Kharani, now of ruins, its dirge is bitter." The qarnu bellowed a slow yawn, announcing the start of the next kirugu. It was the zammartu herself who carried a steady beat in this part, banging her halhallatu drum with her palm. The rest of the band looked on at the zammartu and the kinnaru player. The zammartu assumed the role of the Lady Nanshe, she moaned her ballad tearfully in rememberance. Her lyrics were intermingled with kinnaru riffs. "With Zumun, who looked on in horror, She emerged in solidarity. The Just Lady, Came to rouse the lord to act for the land, Nanshe, to expose to him the heart of the people, Came before Zumun for the city she loved- Crying brackish waters She bowed before Zumun to show him the city''s doom- Crying impure waters Bowed before The Lord Crying bloody waters. Bowed before The Lord She sung for him her sorrowful dirge." Lady Nanshe, after she had written this lament with her wailing harp, whispers softly her painful remembrance for the house of silence: "A gloom sails over Kharani Its sorrow weighs on my heart like stone. Its evil rages wild across the night, It is I who the storm appeared before. A tempest that appeared before me Its sorrow weighs on my heart like stone. The swarm of malice came and appeared to me that day, That day which shakes me like thunder, Yet, I could not escape the slaughter. The tempest weighs on me like stone, There were no good days in sight, Not one day reprieved of sorrow. "The roving tragedy hounded me, raging wild across that night, That night which shakes me like thunder Yet, I could not escape the slaughter. The overwhelming torrent, The deluge of wickedness, it submerses me, drowns me It waits for me at night, where I sleep, In my slumber it mauls at me, ensnares me, so I cannot sleep. The unrelenting plague, what it dragged away from me, It blew away the tranquility of my bedroom, It denied me even Ziqiqu''s relief. "It was on that terrible day, The day when the storm smashed our fair town, I watched as the land was ravaged by the forces of cruelty, The moment they allowed its desolation, that grim day when our final lords judged the city, The day they proclaimed, "Kharani shall surely be annihilated" The day they agreed, "the people shall all be put to death" In that moment, I stood, I did not turn away!" "I prostrated myself and wept, appealing before An. I cried to Mullil, I knelt at his feet. ''Do not destroy my city!,'' I begged. ''Don''t let Kharani be destroyed!'' I begged. ''Save its people!'' I begged. Yet, An continued to stare past me, unstirred. Mullil ignored, and declined to say ''Your petition has turned my heart" "Twice I urged them, At the gathering of the Anuna gods of Kiyengi, The court of the Anuna was set up in the netherworld, I fell on my belly, my arms stretched in reverence. I prostrated myself and wept, appealing before An. I cried to Mullil, I knelt at his feet. ''Do not destroy my city!,'' I begged. ''Do not let Kharani be destroyed!'' I begged. ''Save its people!'' I begged. Yet An continued to stare past me, unstirred. Mullil ignored, and declined to say ''Your petition has turned my heart" "On account of the bleakness of the country, I marauded the land like a wild bull. As vultures circled the rings of Kharani, I fluttered like a hungry bird to a windowsill; The city had been torn out from its very foundations; Kharani lay silent like an ewe''s stillbirth. The wild tempest surrounded the city, I attacked it, I shrieked at it, I screamed at it ''O roving evil things, O horrors, go back to the wastes!'' The billowing winds of evil did not waiver." The zammartu ceased singing, The balangu was no longer plucked, yet the Uppu''s beat continued from the zammartu''s hands. The Nargallu stepped forward to pronounce the gishgingal: "May the tears that fall for Kharani flow like Buranuna; The lady Nanshe''s powers have been made strange to her." Then the next kirugu began, this time being sung by the Nargallu accompanied by a tune on the pitnu and ebubbu flute. "The great god''s prowling calls the wicked winds" The reply was overwhelming, the entire band with open mouths shouted the chorus, trailing on the final syllable. With each lyrical answer all the wind instruments and cymbals swelled into a menacing sting. Finally, this was the childrens'' moment, as they blew their whistles and shook their rattles as loud as they possibly could. "the land wails!!!" they cried. And this was repeated with some variation through the rest of the Kirugu: He snatches the aura of prosperity - the land wails!!! He wrenches the peaceful storm away from Kharani- the land wails!!! He whispers advice to the cruel storm- the land wails!!! He adorns the devil, Pazuzu, with great power, the lurker on the breeze. He blows the wayward debris of chaos the land wails!!! He gathers the grim gales that chill the spine the land wails!!! The Great God brings the gods of the nations to his side. the land wails!!! Adad''s axe slams his shield like thunder the land wails!!! The bull of heaven rains down from above the land wails!!! The wild bull of the thicket rises up the land wails!!! The well of sorrow overflows, When the lyrical reply was different from the chorus, it was answered by the zammartu. "it cannot be stymied." "The arms of warriors clash in the streets," "and take excessively of the people." Zumun and Utu are not visible to the people the land wails!!! Across the earth, warrior Erra''s hate simmers the land wails!!! Hendursaga''s standard blazes across the terror-filled night the land wails!!! When the dark clouds of rain and evil winds had settled, pyres rose across the countryside. Mullil took away Utu and locked up E-Shesh-Kar, The House of the Bright Brother, with the pleasant breeze of morning, Zumun nor Utu could rise to fight off The Seven; Utu shrunk to the size of a star. On the nights of midsummer, as a gentle coolness blows The punishing storm brews. The bodies of the people lie stacked like mud bricks, the land wails!!! The bodies of the people lie strewn like potsherds, the land wails!!! The bodies of the people were red, like clay the land wails!!! The people were blown away by the huffing and puffing of demons The land wails!!! The country was turned upside-down The land wails!!! The children of Shumuqan descended on the land Every innocent is consumed. Wherever they go, tears are as rain the land wails!!! Now the alu, the lilizu, and the halhallatu beat together at a steady pace. The children, they are the chaos The chaos which spares no mother, the chaos which spares no father, the chaos which spares no wife, the chaos which spares no child, the chaos which spares no sister, the chaos which spares no brother, the chaos which spares no neighbour, the chaos which spares no lover, the chaos which spurns the women, the chaos which orphans the child," Only the zammartu cried out the gishingal: "the chaos which eclipses the luminance of Lord Zumun!" The alu gonged. The Nargallu resumed his singing with a grandiose bravado in his deep voice: The malevolent happenings were carried out over the land They sunk the houses like a hurricane The doom that looms over the city. The doom that makes that which is good in life vanish. The doom cast in molten metal, annointed in sparks and fire. The doom bellowed with malice by vicious hounds in the night, The doom that clings to the city, Kharani is smothered, as if by a sheet of gloom spread out over it like a funeral shroud. When the last of the winds had whipped the wreckage, Ghost haunted mounds were all that remained. Zumun''s fairest city became no more than a large tomb- the land wails!!! The bodies were cast across the town like broken pottery in a junk heap. The great wild bull destroyed the walls- the land wails!!! Across the gates of the gods, where banners once sailed, now there are heads skewered on pikes. Along the road, where Zumun would walk among the people, now blood seeps between the cobbles, down to the very foundation Through the alleys where one would pleasantly stroll now the path is congested by bodies. Upon the courtyard where merry people danced and feasted, corpses were piled high! Dug up from its very root The bones of all the ancestors were crushed, Bodies sizzled in Erra''s simmer, exposed, curdling like lard Severed heads lay agape an evil sight. They are forced to eat dust, they are unrelieved in Arali. The evil ones patrol the streets They pierce the fleeing man with spears. Where their mothers had borne them, They were as stillbirths. The evil ones patrol the streets, They brained the fleeing man with maces. The necks of those hanging, swung like a drunkards'' The brave warriors were cut down against the enemy weapons- the land wails!!! The ones who flee were swallowed by the winds of the tempest- the land wails!!! On long roads to no place, the lost children starve and weep. Families who stood by their homesteads they were burned alive. Demons snatched the infant from the mother''s arms Like a lion snatches a lamb. The lovers who held hands, could not keep their grip. The authority of the country evaporates- the land wails!!! The palace is in flames, its administrators are dead- the land wails!!! The Mother has turned her back on Her Child- the land wails!!! The Father has turned his back on His Child- the land wails!!! The City has turned its back on the Widow the land wails!!! The City has turned its back on the Orphan. the land wails!!! By now the howling chorus had become like torture. The cacophany of repeated, shrieking noise hammered Nawirnushu''s eardrums and left him reeling in his chair. The poor people of Kharani,... To the king''s relief, the zammartu now answered the statements of the Nargallu. ... were dragged from their homes in the night. Its Lord like a frightened bird Flew off into the sky. Zumun like a frightened bird Flew off into the sky. Its Lady like a frightened bird Flew off into the sky. Nanshe like a frightened bird Flew off into the sky. The vast bounty of the land was stolen by cutthroats. In the temple warehouses of abundance fires now consume the ruins. The sacred canal was contaminated now its water is brackish as tears. The music all stopped, and it was the raspy throat of the girl playing the kinnaru who announced the title of the gishingal: "The storm, like a lion, has attacked unceasingly- the land wails!!!" As before, all fell silent but the beat of the zammartu''s uppu drum, yet it is the kinnaru harpist whose voice and pleasant scales begin the Kirugu: The Lady Nanshe, stands opposed, she circles her lost city like a wolf. The ravaged homes of her people weigh her heart with grief. Her own house is violated, Her own house has been made hollow, She sighs "Woe!" and says: Now the zammartu representing Nanshe once again took over the singing. A sustained tune from the ebbubu flute lingered on the ends of the verses. "The land no longer offers my flock abundance, The good shepherd is gone. Kharani no longer offers my flock abundance, The shepherd boy is gone. The fish no longer lolly in the canal, there is no more fisherman. The sheep no longer graze on the plains, there is no more shepherd. The cows no longer loiter in the pen there is no more pasture. The bottom of the sacred canal has run dry, Now it is fit for the burrows of small animals The grain which grows in the breeze runs fallow, There is no more farmer. Where once the land was tilled diligently the earth is overgrown The vineyards and the gardens, which used to nurse pleasure. Are overrun in thickets of wildflowers The black loam of the land, once lush. Is now but cracked clay and dust" "Everything that I own flees before me, like a flock of sparrows They have scattered across the sky- Woe for all the sweet things I''ve lost! The sparrows whose songs delight my heart The winds seperated me from what is best in life My dearest servants and precious young people were ferried off by the barge- The winds seperated me from what is best in life Those innocent girls that I loved, my dearest slaves are marked with cruel brands in a wicked city. The most precious of my young people, are lost wandering in foreign and distant lands." "Alas, Fair Kharani has been made desolate, My E-Sirara is desolate. Zumun, your Eykugbabbarani is desolate, your worshipers are dead. There is no place for me, the town is made tragic, Is there any place for me whatsoever? Alas, where once my chapel had stood There is founded a foreign house. In this foreign house I am a stranger In my old city a foreign city is founded. As I am swept off, along with my home I gaze back tearfully. As my own city is dragged out of Kharani I gaze back tearfully I shriek! I beat my breast in heartache! I rip at my hair! as if uprooting riverweeds. I beat at the lamentation drum, I hold it at my chest! This sorrow overwhelms me! The Buranuna rushes from my eyes, In tears I utter: There is no place for me! the town is made tragic! Is there any place for me whatsoever? There is no place for Zumun! the town is made tragic! Is there any place for you whatsoever? I am Nanshe, My shimmering school has been speared, devoured in the maw of an evil shark. Their blood turns the canals red. I am Nanshe, My E-Sirara is stripped bare, Is there any place for me whatsoever? The horizon is not recognizable to me. Is there any place for me whatsoever? The halhallatu drum stopped, but the zammartu as Nanshe herself pronounced the gishgingal: "Alas, my city, alas, my house." Then the music became different than it had been before. The ebubbu and the pitnu carried a bitter-sweet tune beneath the shaking of the duwahu and the drone of the qarnu. The nargallu led each line of the final kirugu, the zammartu and the kinnaru player joined him to sing the reply. Lord Zumun himself spoke, In his luminant voice of wisdom, "My Lady, how is your heart unbroken!? How can you go on!? O Nanshe, how is your heart unruptured!? How can you go on!? O Nanshe, your house is desolate, how is your heart in tact? The whole city is turned to ruins, How can you go on!? The country is smothered under wickedness, how is your heart still beating!? Kharani is no longer the city you found familiar, How can you go on!? The canal has turned to salt water, how is your heart of good foundation!? Your flock has migrated away, the old roost is a mound of dust. You can never return to your nest, Kharani is now a bed of venemous serpents. How can you care for the lots of a people, who have been dismembered? Your tears have become strange tears, your land no longer weeps. Noone remembers the rites, it dwells in foreign lands. Kharani is a place for ghosts; How can you go on!? The E-Sirara is no more, how is your heart untarnished! The midnight gales haunt Kharani, How can you go on!? Since the age of Bazi, The age your house was established, O Zumun, The black-headed people knelt at your feet and the children of Shumuqan, who frolicked at your ankles, serenade you in a deluge of weeping. A final song to remember what was good in life To warn others of how easily it is taken. Forever shall the people of the land remember you in their prayers, in their curiosity This den of wind and ghosts and other evil things whistles the funeral melody of The Moon. Zumun, as you search the abyss for our judgment May our lot in Irkalla, our lot beneath the tempest Shine with silver and purity before you. May the hearts of your people who remember "Kharani" dashed across the moonlight Be made pure before you." The band stopped, and the three singers, the nargallu, zammartu, and kinnaru player, pronounced the final gishgingal: "Until distant days, other days, future days." Chapter 1 (E) - The Omen There was a final roar of the great qarnu. Its heaving drone squealed with such intensity that Nawirnushu was reeling, plugging his ears with his palms and burying his face in his lap. He grit his teeth and his knees trembled, and then, he listened, and he let go of his head, but when he looked up the band was gone. Everyone was gone but the king himself. Out of the disquieting silence, a woman''s piercing shriek flooded the palace grounds and a strong gust blew in from the wind above the canal and snuffed out every torch and candle at the banquet. In the dark there came a wailing, a woman who cried as she crawled and stumbled across the party grounds bereft of guests and servants. "Where is Bazi! Where has he gone!? Who has taken him!?" Nawirnushu recognized that voice. It was Reshaya. Beyond the balcony the breeze that had comforted the city strengthened into a howling gale, and Nawirnushu stared up at the churning black clouds. Before his very eyes Zumun withered into a smokey shadow. He could not see one single star in the sky! Nawirnushu could not even see the ground in front of him. All of his companions had vanished into the night without a trace, yet he stared out upon the skyline of Kharani and still saw the gleam of Nusku burning behind windows, and so he set out to find another man in the gloom. He left the palace unremarked. The streets were silent, save for the whirling void which heaved above him in the place where the gods of the night sat in judgment. After a few moments looking for any signs of life in the alleys, he found myself stumbling down the incline of the temple district mound deeper and deeper into the city, past the innermost ring and towards the door of any home or apartment with their lights on, yet his efforts were always in vain. No one would ever come to the door, no matter how boisterous the king''s commandments. As he wound deeper and deeper into the winding alleys, as though wrapping a string around a spool, he completely lost track of where he was. The night was filled with the sound of hounds howling up to Lord Zumun, the chorus was so loud, and it seemed to come from every side. Nawirnushu stopped walking. That''s when he began to sense that he was not alone. Around him he would hear scraping and shuffling in the far distance ahead, and behind, and around corners. Above him the rooftops creaked and shifted. Then, up in front of he, he caught the first glimpses of the tall ones that darted from rooftop to rooftop above, and snared in the corner of his eye the shapes that dragged themselves across the dirt paths around him. The cacophony of baying resumed, now even more frantic and intense. Nawirnushu''s heart raced, he took flight through the back streets, his eyes and ears scanning the dark and the movement of the shadows. He plead to his personal god to protect him, desperately searching for some shaft of deliverance from his wretched pursuers. He finally found a way out onto one of the broad streets of the old town and emerged from the labyrinth of walls and corners. Instead, as he continued down the thoroughfare, he saw before him what had only once been a means of escape, but was now an insurmountable obstacle of collapsed wall and beam. Nawirnushu knew this street from his early sojourns into the town, there was no dead end here, and yet here there was!Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. As Nawirnushu stepped back in a pang of confusion he realized his pursuers had caught up to him. He was surrounded by the faint hum of low growling. Carefully, he began to inspect the alleys which diverged from the street on which he stood, and he could see their silhouettes. The impression of four-legged beasts, gathered in packs, and in the corner of his eye the impression of these... lumps. Lumps which seemed to crawl and drag themselves out from the cobbled street corners like the flailing of an infant. On the rooftops above him, scores of those things had gathered to watch his persecution. They stood like people, but taller in limb and stature than any person he had ever seen. Their piercing green eyes glowed in the dim radiance of the windowlight which crept out of the empty houses. The pack of hounds had now swelled into formation. ''How many of them now roar at me? How vicious their bloodlust?'' Nawirnushu lost his breath. Then they descended. The king instinctively tried to turn back, looking all around him for some tatter in their ranks, but there was no such fortune! The ones in front of him came first, the wolves bearing their fangs and baying at him. Two more hounds jumped out from its flank to corner him from the sides. Nawirnushu tried to turn his back on them, and run yet again, but more of the feral beasts emerged from behind him. Then one of the dogs leapt upon him, its claws bearing into Nawirnushu''s back and shoulders, and he lost his footing and fell into the mob of canines. Together the pack lunged at his joints, tearing open his neck and veins with their jaws, soaking Nawirnushu in his own blood. He tried to cry, to scream out for help, to call upon his men and his gods, but as the king struggled and flailed his consciousness dimmed. He was strewn apart. Out from the deep darkness of the night, came a roar as fearsome as a lion''s, but also more terrible than any other beast''s! As Nawirnushu felt the ligaments of his flesh stripped from his bones, and all life faded from him, he beheld from his sorrowful heavy eyes an enormous bull standing in the street before the thrall. Its dreadful long horns wrapping themselves around the body of Zumun, as if to strangle him! -and then he arose in a cold sweat only to be comforted by the fingers of Shamash which brushed through my windows and bed canopy and nudged gently through the braids of his hair. Ziqiqu had released him. Nawirnushu got up out of bed, stood up, and hastened to the water basin in his room, splashing his face to shaken him from such a terrible nightmare, and to douse the tears welling in his eyes. As the cold water dripped from his brow, he walked out from his chamber onto the patio of the royal gardens, the same which held the banquet he had attended in his dream. There were, of course, no signs of such nocturnal festivities there this morning. The sky was grey, it was one of the few precious rain-filled days of the year, and the pale atmosphere seemed to dull the pleasure of the rich reds, pinks, and blues of the garden specimens. His heart began to wander to the discord of the splashing and plopping of flooded drainage paths and the moving current of the city canal, and his ears even stretched to find a soothing rythym in the drip-drops. Nawirnushu looked out over the garden balcony''s view of the Purattu, the vein of sweet water which brought life to the town from its very foundation. Today the waters were dull and muddy, and the flow of the river was not placid. No reed gondola dared to brave the current. That''s when he saw it, out of the corner of his eyes. Something solid and pale. For a moment he thought it could be driftwood, but as he looked closer upon the shape he knew it could not have been driftwood! He saw something which looked like a tree branch, or a limb, but it bent softly so that it could not have been wood. As the king began to recognize what the shape was, a sense of fear took hold of him, but he was driven to keep following it. He raced along the balcony to make sure he didn''t lose sight of it. He shouted to his servants walking along the river bank to take notice of it. The morbid bundle of skin and hair seemed to flow, past the periphery of Nawirnushu''s gaze, past the walls of the palace complex, and his heart lurched in fear. He hastened down the garden stairs and emerged out of the gate onto the trail parallel to the canal. The king scoured the river for the floating thing and managed to find it, pointing it out to the sentries who came to his aid. There he watched on the banks as the royal guard and the local ferrymen who patrolled the canal fished out the remains of a young boy, his body in pieces. His face cold and hollow and mangled in terror. And in that moment Shakkunakku Nawirnushu collapsed to his knees in dread and sorrow, for he knew then that the gods had abandoned him. Chapter 2 - Walk of Shame Miszatu Miszatu awoke to the sound of a rooster''s crowing. The moment she raised her head from the rough bed and from Dan-Ili''s shoulder her heart was mired in worry. An anxiety gripped her which preceded the question as to whether she had woken up too early or too late. She bolted up and began fishing for her clothing and belongings around the floor of the shed. Sensing she had left him, Dan-Ili groaned slowly and peeked open one of his eyes. "You leaving?" he mumbled. "Of course! It''s already light out! How are you a soldier!?" Miszatu badgered, incredulous at his slothfulness, and panicking at the time for her own sake. "Well, I am a soldier, and as a soldier what you really learn is that there''s a time to be on alert and a time to be lazy." He smiled and reclined. "Besides, I was busy fighting the whole damn Kassu army with Ziqiqu." "And who was winning?" Miszatu asked disinterestedly. "Me, obviously." he smiled smugly. "I had Ningirsu''s help." Miszatu grunted a chuckle as she slipped on her dress. "Well even Ningirsu can''t help us if we''re found out!" she complained. Miszatu wanted to scold Dan-Ili. In that moment she just wished that he''d have made some effort to be considerate of the time. "You just don''t seem to ever take seriously how much I am risking to be with you! If you love me, you shouldn''t make things more difficult for me!" she protested, gently. He stayed silent as she fixed her hair. Without actually hearing him, Miszatu could sense him stewing over what she''d said. After she''d finished the final touches of her attire, Dan-Ili grabbed Miszatu by the hips and pulled her towards the bed, caressing her stomach and breasts. "Hurry up and marry me then!" He blurted out, his lips muffled, pressed into his lover''s gown. Miszatu smiled. It was always welcome to hear him say that, even if she couldn''t take his demands seriously the way things were. She bent down to him as he lay on the mattress and kissed his cheek. "Maybe someday when you''ve left the city guard and I''ve left the Bit Naditu. You''ve just got to hurry up and defeat all those Kassu warriors!" She turned around and heard him laugh softly as she slid out the door. Her flight from their love nest, an old empty storeroom that Dan-Ili had found on patrol in the mushkennu district, was greeted by a chorus of bleating goats, mocking her from their pen which flanked the exit and chidingly announcing her indiscretion to the whole city. Miszatu cursed under her breath and held her head down low as she wrapped her headscarf and attempted to swiftly march towards the Bit Naditu in a way that she also hoped to be sufficiently inconspicuous. She slipped around the stableyard on the other side of the street, crowded with young sheep, and crossed the narrow bed of mud which marked the pedestrian path that stretched parallel the city canals. The sky was patched in clouds, but Shamash had begun to peak out from their edges, like an alert eye framed beneath heavy, sleepless lids.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. Miszatu clung to the cover of walls and wound her way through the alleys of the lower town. She was surprised to see that there were few people out traversing the street or working that day. She could still not tell whether this was because her awakening was too early or too late. Regardless, the way things were suited her just fine, as she was just trying to make it home without remark from some official or ruffian as to why a naditu would be out trudging through the commercial district in the bright and early. She passed the short view of the Purattu on her route home, and was disheartened to see dark water rushing so furiously on such a cloudy day. After she had wound her way across the bridge which lay over the canal and arrived at the towering white walls of Zumun''s gate to the inner city, she was determined to sneak into the back of the E-Sirara and Bit Naditu before anyone had noticed her absence. Miszatu''s comings and goings were not so policed by her superior sisters, but it would be unusual if she was not present at some point for morning prayer. She passed through the gate without remark from the city guard stationed there, a huge relief. This was the part of her journey that she found most troubling, as moving through the old town Miszatu would encounter not only the strange passersby, but often neighbors and friends of many years. The old town, built over the earliest settlement of Kharani, was the district for the residences of palace and temple officials where Miszatu had been living since her parents had sent her away to the Bit Naditu. Through the alleys she passed between the beautiful gardens, open courtyards, and painted walls of the old city. The few slaves and temple-staff she encountered Miszatu was able to pass by with a brief yet courteous greeting. The blue panels of the Bit Naditu''s exterior were finally in view, and Miszatu breathed a heavy sigh of relief, yet she stopped as she came closer. Two guardsmen, adorned in their bronze helmets and sheepskin cloaks, stood outside the entrance to the chapel''s courtyard. Miszatu''s heart froze. "My lady bless you, kadanu!" she greeted them, bowing her head in their presence. The guardsmen kept staring at her. They did not respond to her salutation in kind. "Are you Miszatu, Naditu sha Nanshe?" One of them asked. ''Shit.'' "Yes kadanu, I am she." Miszatu replied, truthfully. Stupidly. "Where have you been this morning?" asked the other guard. Miszatu gulped down a lump in her throat. "I have just returned from attending to a dying patient who lives on the other side of the city. His condition has concerned me enough to cook for his family and assist the mashmashu priest." The officers looked at each other with a grimace frozen on their faces. "Naditu of Nanshe, you must come with us for an examination under the will of Shakkunakku Nawirnushu, King of Kharani." Mizatu''s heart sunk. ''They know. My life is over.'' "Walk with us." The guards demanded, their posture stiffening. Miszatu noticed as the grip on their spears tightened, ''as if I would even imagine that I had a chance of resisting them!'' She nodded in reply, careful to bind her face to an empty expression as she took her place walking before the two tall men. As they departed, Mizatu glanced back at the lovely old gates of her home, fearing in her heart that she would never see them again. Chapter 3 (A) - A Shepherd-Dogs Baying Nawirnushu For some time that morning the king sat hunched over the side of his bed, struggling with his personal god. Nawirnushu''s heart hung heavy. In his weakness, he left his servants and advisors to ponder over his grizzly discovery for the next few hours while he brooded on what really was to be done. His eyes wandered around his bedroom. It was warm, and Shamash''s shimmer now began to peek through the blue and scarlet drapes by his window. A light breeze licked his hair. Nawirnushu shuddered to recall in detail the chilling darkness which Ziqiqu had conjured in his very chamber. After some time had passed his queen, Reshaya, came to his side and sat with him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders so lightly and tenderly, as she often did. "Awiliya, I have heard the gossip about the palace this morning. Is it true what they say about it? That you, yourself, were the one who found the boy?" she asked. "It is true." The king replied, sunken in tone. Reshaya hung her head, and began rubbing the back of his neck softly with her fingers. "What a terrible thing to have to wake up to." She said to comfort him. "I find myself more troubled by what terror must have befallen that child. In my city." Nawirnushu lamented. The queen turned to him and replied with a passion in her speech. "Sharriya, Do you hold your actions responsible for every villain who harms a child? For every evil that prowls the night? For every abuse of every past king and his persecution of the weak?" Reshaya paused in her speech for her husband to take in her words, but his mood and his vision remained fixed on the floor tiles. "O my love, It is right that kingship is yours! Do you think that Mullil-Bel-Abli, or any other villain with a crown, would even pause to consider one murdered little boy?" She pressed him rhetorically.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Nawirnushu took a deep sigh. Reshaya had a point. "Awiliya, just put these thoughts of guilt out of your mind! Keep your heart in the longevity of your people and your reign!" She encouraged. He hung his head low. The grip of Nawirnushu''s fists tightened as he trembled in indignation. "You don''t understand, rubutiya, It is the burden of kingship! The burden of knowing that for all the walls and metal, and for all of my efforts, all of my piety, still does such unfathomable evil stalk my fair Kharani!? Have I truly no power!? Have I no claws!? Can this old sheep-dog not root out the serpent, let alone fend off the lion?" The queen fell silent, staring off into the distance and continuing to stroke his back in solidarity. She still searched for the right words to quell his heart. "Just... please listen to your advisors. They will help you to bear this burden! They will advise you on what is best for Kharani!" "Mm." He grunted in acknowledgment, already dreading the patronizing counsel of his generals and bureaucrats. Reshaya cupped her palms around the sides of his face and drew him to her''s affectionately. "The fact that we can speak like this is why you are a great king! You may not be as wealthy as Burnaburiash, you may not have the legions of Ashur-idin, and evil may stalk the streets of Kharani just like every other city in the world, but the very fact that it bothers you, the fact that what happens to your people is what motivates you, that is why you are a great shakkunakku! Do not despair, my love!" And so Nawirnushu leaned in quickly and deeply and began kissing her. ''She is always as sweet as my responsibilities are draining.'' Nawirnushu thought. The king knew that he might have his pick of the girls and boys of the harem, but Reshaya was his queen. She had been with him from the beginning, before he had even taken back the throne. His heart belonged to her. A few moments later, their embrace was interrupted by a knock at the chamber door. The queen winced at the intrusion. "What!?" Nawirnushu bellowed at the hardwood gate. The young palace attendant meekly opened the door a crack and responded. "Beliya, your ministers are ready to offer their appraisals of the situation in the throne room." Nawirnushu took a deep sigh. He had expected he would need to converse with his administrators at some point, although the immediacy of the task itself was disappointing. "Very well, tell them I will be there shortly." he replied to the young servant who went scurrying off to relay the order. His gaze returned to Reshaya. He smiled. "O, Would that you could calm the passions of the whole court, and not just me." "I am no goddess, but I shall try to keep things quiet among my courtiers." She deflected. "A deceiver, just like Ninnana." Nawirnushu teased. Reshaya smiled. "I know I''ll see you again sometime this evening." He assured her. "May Zumun keep your heart pure, Awiliya." She declared, cupping her palms at her waist in a gesture of good will. Chapter 3 (B) - A Shepherd-Dogs Baying Nawirnushu left his chamber and walked down the hall and the stairs to the throne room. All along the hallway the windows which looked out over the city skyline illuminated the impressive murals of Ninanna''s snarling lions. Since he won the palace by arms, even though he had resided there for more than a decade, it never felt anything like a home to him. When Nawirnushu thought of "home" his heart more often drifted to the villa on the coast of the western sea where he would spend his summers as a prince in exile. The whole time he was there he would torture himself and think "O how much sweeter must it be to bathe in the light of Shamash by the royal canal of Kharani!" ''If only I had known then that I had always had the better view!'' he thought. No, instead the palace, the seat of fifteen of his ancestors, his very own father among them, felt like a cage. An obtuse maze of mudbrick and secrecy. Descending the stairs from his loft, Nawirnushu entered the throne room from the back entrance and looked out upon the long hall from the raised stage, its bottom speckled like an egg shell in tiles of alabaster, lapis lazuli blue, and carnelian red. Across the hall, twixt every few forearms in the distance stood flanking pairs of rams, vigilant protectors of his domain. All the way across from the throne, on an implacable balcony above terraced steps, stood the ancient image of Lord Bazi, the Shepherd King of Kharani, divine patron of the shakkunakku''s authority. The expression on his face, his beaming eyes and soft smile, once seemingly cheerful, now appeared snide and mocking to the living king after his unpleasant dream. Kneeling before the throne, awaiting Nawirnushu''s approach, were his five most esteemed advisors: His Rab Kallapi, Rapashzili-Zumun, general of the expeditionary forces, his Amuru kin, childhood friend, and ceaselessly loyal comrade. They had preserved the life of one another on the battlefield more times than either of them could count. His Rab Abullati, Adad-Naszir, general of citygates, an old commander of the guards who worked his way up, having served under both his father and the usurper who followed before him. ''Now here is a man who takes his oaths seriously.'' Nawirnushu had reasoned. His Shapittu, Aliatawat-Lim, the governor of the city, slow to repair the damaged mudbrick and slow to redistribute the necessary rations, yet tolerable, for he had always remained faithful and profitable in his audits. Then there was the illustrious, Asqudum, The Rodent, the king''s official court ummanu and personal baru. The great scholar whose expertise Nawirnushu had plucked from the libraries of Subartu. His insight into the will of the gods was invaluable, yet his influence was the envy of the whole court, and an endless center of dubious gossip. Last was the noble Awilu, Idin-Dagan, the abarakku of the E-Kur-Kug-Babbar-ani. He was the father of Zumun''s entu priestess and the esteemed patriarch of the most ancient Akkadu family dynasties in the city, or at least one of the handful which managed to live through and profit off of the Hanigalbatu purge. He was possibly the wealthiest noble in Kharani, and certainly Nawirnushu''s absolute least favorite of the lot. After surveying his audience, Nawirnushu took his seat upon the throne dais. He began the proceedings, motioning for his advisors to stand before him: "As we are here primarily to address the situation of the death which I discovered, let us first dispense with our mundane priorities. Rapashzili-Zumun, what intelligence has your reconnaissance work on our borders and the communication with our allies yielded? Has the situation changed?" Rapashzili-Zumun stepped forward. "Shakkunakkiya, here I offer to you my fortnightly report from the frontlines: The situation to the southern border is increasingly serious, the brash Burnaburiash of Karduniash sends his Kassu cavalry force to harass and raid the free cities of the Sealands. It would not be such a stretch for him to send a vanguard north, yet the forces we have seen so far are certainly not equipped for the heavy combat and the prolonged siege that would be required to successfully assault Kharani itself. He seems more interested in the less expensive effort of causing chaos to the rebels in his demesne rather than recapturing that territory. To the East, as with each year, the Subartu war season approaches, and it is yet inconclusive whether the legion will head west, north, or perhaps even relent on us altogether and head further east into the mountains. Our ambassador at Kalhu assures us that we keep friendly relations, as this is the holy city of Zumun, but Ashur-iddin has shown himself to believe he is above the confines of oaths and treaties, and he is not wrong! The Subartu army may launch another a campaign against the Hatti city-states on the west coast, coming dangerously close to us. We might also expect them to resume their campaign against the Vainili confederacy in the North. In the North at least, the Vainili border seems to remain quiet and insular as always, but who can be certain? As always Subartu and Vainili continue to plot each other''s annihilation, as they have for the last century, though the age when such a conflict will finally come to pass seems remote. In the West, the homelands of the Amuru tribes are secure to us, so long as we remain sponsored by the Piru of Muzraiyu, and as long as the shadow of Subartu hangs over the coast we shall always remain in the Piru''s good graces. The Hatti cities reel from Subartu attack and are in no position to take the offensive at all! They are the tattered shade of their former glory! In summation, Beliya, there are many serious threats gathering on our borders, but none yet concrete or discernible. Trust in your eyes, my lord. Make me your eyes, and your gaze shall pierce deep." "Thank you, my brother. The news may be bad, but to hear it from your lips is always sweeter." Nawirnushu approved. Rapashzili-Zumun smirked.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. The king made his formal response: "So as for what you say, it sounds almost inevitable that Burnaburiash will come, not to wrest the city from us, but to raid, and goad us, and cause all kinds of problems. Therefore we need larger patrols south to discourage him at the border. You will take a reasonable defense force and secure the bank of the Purattu river." "As for the Subartu, now, that is something to be afraid of! Though at many other times they have had ample oppurtunity to seize Kharani in the past, they have simply decided it was not in their strategic interests to do so." Nawirnushu turned to his other general. "Adad-Naszir, for all of your efforts, I know that this city would likely not withstand a siege force. This is why we need to secure any possible weaknesses in our defenses of the city right now, as well as maintain surveillance at the ruins of old Washukannu in the north and track the movements of the Subartu armies." "Just as your name, ''your wisdom is as his luminance'', Beliya." Adad-Naszir proclaiming, appearing to savor the warrior''s honor of unwavering service to his lord. Nawirnushu sighed. "So now let us address the grave matter of the murdered child. Rapashzili-Zumun, what did the palaceguard discover with the body?" Adad-Naszir took a deep breath. Nawirnushu noticed that it was disturbing to see such sullenness in a man who had seen so many battles. "We found the boy cut into three large pieces, the torso and upper body, the pelvis and right leg, and the left leg, floating alongside each other. His belly had been torn open, his intestines exposed...as if... as if he was a baru sacrifice!" The whole room, including the kind, turned their gaze to Asqudum, who stood expressionless and snorted to himself, pointedly ignoring the obvious implications of Adad-Naszir''s description. Adad-Naszir continued. "The murder must have been recent, because the boy still bled as his body floated. This morning the canals ran red with blood. Even the flowing statues, like the image of Nanshe at the E-Sirara, spouted blood!" Asqudum gasped. "Did they?" "They did!" confirmed Rapashzili-Zumun. "Is there not more you can learn from observing the boy''s body itself?" Nawirnushu asked. Asqudum interrupted the king''s conversation with his general. "Beliya, if I may explain-" For a brief moment this caused a hubbub of whispers among the advisors which Nawirnushu silenced with his palm. He had no patience for such court sniveling, and Asqudum''s expertise was often invaluable. "The boy''s body was taken to the Bit Mashmashu for study. They will report to me with the results in the next day." The great scholar announced. "That is good to hear, Asqudum." Nawirnushu approved before he turned his attention to his city administrator. "Now, Aliatawat-Lim, first of all, I am alarmed to have discovered such evil had polluted the sacred canal! You must stop all boat traffic at the bottlenecks of the city, inspect and account for them, and extract a tariff. Know that any river inspector who fails to account for a ship or to account for its fine will be charged the tariff fee sevenfold. Have you managed to identify the family of the murdered boy? Have you been able to find any witnesses of the crime?" Aliatawat-Lim sheepishly stepped forward. "I... have not, my lord. I will begin to question each resident of the dock district near where the boy was found." Nawirnushu could not believe that his Shapittu had not taken such initiative independent of his insistence. He scolded him. "Aliatawat-Lim, if you love me, you should uproot everything! You should search every storehouse! Audit every slaveowner! You have absolute authority t-" "Beliya! The information I have to offer you strongly disagrees with this course of action you are setting on!" Asqudum spoke out. Nawirnushu was stunned. Asqudum had interrupted a king. Many men had died for less... but certainly not from Nawirnushu''s own judgment. "Explain." He commanded. "Beliya, alongside the bad dream which you spoke of having before the boy was found, I feel that the mounting omens should discourage any rash action which could cause unrest among the populace! The tension of such an event as this seems destined only to compound itself at this time." Asqudum asserted. The king was surprised. "Asqudum, I trust these omens you have drawn must be significant, yet, I still do not know why it is that I should not exert every effort and measure at my disposal in order to uncover the child slayer!" Asqudum continued. "Sharrumiya, with all due respect, I fear you miss the larger pattern which has emerged with the accumulation of ill-bearing phenomena and mistidings in the past year, and especially the last month. They are so overwhelming in volume that I fear for your kingdom! To be frank, I fear you have not received my omen reports with due urgency! In order to educate you as to this crisis, my lord, I ask that I be allowed to present to you some of the evidence which I have used to reach my interpretation of the present situation. If it would please my king, he should join me for the baru ritual tonight at my office in the Prince''s Palace!" The king took a moment to consider his ummanu''s request. Asqudum was a petty bureaucrat to be sure, but a uniquely wise man if not for his excessive sense of pride. "Very well, I will join you as you draw baru lots this evening." Nawirnushu conceded begrudgingly. It pained him not to be able to spend all evening dallying with his queen, but he knew better than to ignore Asqudum''s warnings. Out of frustration and a frenzy for cruel jest, Nawirnushu turned to the worst of all of them, Idin-Dagan. "What say you, O Idin-Dagan? What does such a pious man advise his king to do?" "Beliya, Asqudum''s counsel clearly demonstrates the gods'' displeasure in your rule. It is imperative for your own life and the lives of your family that you relinquish your claim to kingship and restore the throne to an established senior of Kharani''s community." Idin-Dagan suggested, condescendingly. ''Well fuck you too, old man.'' To Nawirnushu it was not a matter of conjecture which of the two men hated the other more: It was he. There''s little in the world more unrelentingly depressing than an old man whose anger only hardens with age. Nawirnushu imagined Idin-Dagan dreamed of a world where the usurper he had backed still sat in his station. Idin-Dagan must have longed for a time when the old lineage of Kiyengi still helmed the throne, yet in a kingdom ruled by the arms of the Amuru and now comprised of as many Houri and Hatti people as Akkadu people, such an aspiration was best snuffed out. In spite of his malicious will, Idin-Dagan represented one of the oldest, richest, and most conservative families in Kharani. His daughter served as the entu priestess of Zumun''s great temple. Nawirnushu had decided to let him keep his head and position after he slew the pretender, and for that courtesy Idin-Dagan had never forgiven him. The king kept him on the council to satisfy the sense of security among Kharani''s old aristocracy, and nothing more. Asqudum cut in to stave off any spark of open conflict. "-Beliya, as for the matter of the investigation of this heinous crime, allow me to send one my agents to look into the matter, discretely." "So be it. You have done well Asqudum. Your expertise is a credit to our house." Nawirnushu praised, still staring down the spite in Idin-Dagan''s eyes. Now satisfied that each of his trusted advisors had a corrective task to carry out, Nawirnushu now turned to his own personal concerns to preoccupy him. "You are all dismissed." The shakkunakku announced. Each of the five of them cupped his hands at his stomach and bowed before slinking back to their shadowy posts. When they had left, Nawirnushu took notice that for a rare and brief moment, the vast throne room was deathly still. Chapter 4 - (A) The Riddler and The Rodent Miszatu The guards led Miszatu up the street towards the town''s central hill. To her surprise they were not bound for anywhere near the great temple, but continued north. Miszatu supposed her crime was far too severe to be punished by anything but the king''s judgment, yet, a moment later, it became clear they were not heading to the palace either. The guards instead brought her to the prince''s palace. Miszatu knew that Nawirnushu had no sons and had not chosen an heir, and she wondered what the estate was being used for. Her escorts led her through the courtyard where workmen toiled on building renovations. Directly through the courtyard they crossed into the long, darkened hallway of the smaller palace''s audience room, though now it was deprived of throne and decoration. The guards shuffled Miszatu into a smaller office on the side and closed the door behind her. The room was populated by shelves covered with dusty stacks of tablets and wooden desks strewn with purification materials and reference models for the practice of the barutu arts. At the far end of the room sat a slender man with beady little eyes and light patches of greying in his hair. "Do you know who I am?" he asked. Miszatu had seen him before during her services for the royal family, and the accoutrements of his office made it easy to make an educated guess. "You are Asqudum. The king''s baru." "And you are Miszatu sha Nanshe. Sit down." he motioned for Miszatu to perch herself in a small wooden chair before his work table and she obliged. She focused on stiffening her posture and calming her anxiety. Her brow was heavy with sweat. In her heart she ached for the help of her personal god. Asqudum paused to reflect upon her. Then he spoke. "What, exactly, do you do as a naditu? What are your duties?" He asked. "T-to pray to Lady Nanshe and ensure her goodwill on behalf of the king and the people of the land. To offer her goodwill freely to the poor and abandoned through charity and community services. To raise money for temple services." "But what of your ritual duties?" Miszatu could hardly stop from shaking. "W-we bless holy water and purify ritual participants, we make sacrificial offerings to the lady, we utter liturgy, we provide basic medical care and participate in lamentation services, we interpret dreams and omens for our..."A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. "Then you know why I called you in here?" Tears streamed from her eyes. "...Yes. I.. I just.." "Tell me more about your divining skills." Miszatu was confused. She didn''t understand what she was being asked, but she obliged. "...I am an initiated hayyadu, a riddler. I have studied the mysteries of the signs of the gods and the methods by which they are read. I attended the House of Tablets for many years... but I would never suggest of course, that the place of a hayyadu is anywhere as qualified as an ummanu of the barutu arts" Asqudum sat back in his chair. He seemed to appreciate Miszatu polite deferral. "Well, I was ordained in far off Subartu through the grand temple and the House of Tablets at Ninuwa, but you came to the barutu arts through different means. By what initiation were you ordained into these abilities, if you may speak of it?" "My oath with my lady forbids me from going into specifics, but there was an incubation ritual of death and rebirth which was carried out in the E-Sirara chapel before the goddess. That was three years ago." "It musn''t have been too hard to die and be reborn when you can never carry life in the first place!" Miszatu didn''t answer. Something about that ''joke'' churned her stomach. "And you''re a woman who takes her oaths very seriously, right Miszatu?" He seemed to chide. She did not respond. Asqudum chuckled to himself, somewhat frustrated by her reservedness."So walk me through a riddle. Show me how you read them." He demanded. "Um, I''m sorry, you want me to...?" Asqudum stroked his beard. "Here, let me give you an omen. I want to hear your interpretation based on it: Let''s say that a man has a dream where he is eating bird. That bird is a crow. What does this mean?" Miszatu sunk her head and averted her eyes as she reasoned through the problem. "...Well, depending on the other circumstances of the dream, consuming a crow would imply either an acquisition or a loss of wealth, because the word "arbu", crow implies the condition of "irbu", income..." "Well, then what if another man had a dream where he saw a shooting star fall out of the sky?" "That''s obvious. To see a shooting star, a kiszru sha Anu, is a sign of either growing or diminishing strength. If the trail of the meterorite illuminates the whole sky, then it probably means the dreamer will gain strength in waking life, but if the the shooting star dashes from Anu like rocks cast on the water''s head, then it announces a loss of strength. Because the word for shooting star, kiszru sha Anu, automatically implies the condition of kiszru, strength. "Excellent, and what if a man dreams that he is out in the wilderness, hunting animals, and he manages to ensnare a fox in his hands?" "Oo, that''s a tricky one. Well if a man seizes a fox in a dream then, because, although shelibu, the fox, is usually spelled KA.A5 as is the old convention, if it is spelled out syllabically as she7-lib-bu, it can also be read as the old convention (A.)AN.KAL.-u for ''lamassu''. So this implies that if a man catches a fox in a dream he will also acquire a protective spirit in life, but if he catches and then loses the fox in the dream, he will gain and then lose this protective spirit." Miszatu''s tears stopped. Her anxiety ceased for a moment. "Why are you so curious in my skills as a hayyadu?" She asked. Chapter 4 (B) - The Riddler and The Rodent "Because you used to consult the queen on her dreams, and she praised your skills graciously." Asqudum stated flatly. "I noticed that you even wrote to the king concerning a dream you had several months ago. I have your letter here. May I read it?" Miszatu was both frightened and confused at the suggestion that her letter to the king in confidence should be read aloud, but she nodded her consent. Asqudum read: "My King, I, Miszatu, Naditu Sha Nanshe, write my lord with a grave omen I received in a dream last night. I thought it wrong to deprive my king of the details of my vision: I entered a deep sleep and Ziqiqu shifted me to the halls of the Eykugbabbarani, but Zumun was not there, and a heavy sense of something missing hung over his house. As I turned to leave his sanctuary to go out in search of him, a phantom in shadows hung over the door, and the shade murmurred "Tura Bazi, Return Bazi, Tura Bazi". I left the sanctuary in search of Lord Zumun and Ziqiqu led my feet to a place far beyond the rings of Kharani. It was barren save the moors and the thicket of crooked orchard trees that lay strewn across the valley. I began to hear the heavy beating of drums and the crash of symbals. I groped deeper and deeper into the thicket, and as I continued to struggle through the blackness and the dark, a pale light began to glow down, it was like moonlight, but not moonlight. Its intensity increased the further into the swamp I would go, and finally, I came to the clearing at the end of the thicket, and before me I saw a great silver wild bull, three humps along its back. It looked down at me with black and cold eyes before Ziqiqu lifted me towards the arms of Shamash and Nusku." "Yes my lord, I did indeed write that and submit it before the king, but it proved inconsequential. It was clearly an agricultural omen, and that was almost a year ago and the country''s fields remain in good health." Miszatu tried to demur. "Are you saying that your consultation for our lord was composed in falsehood?"Asqudum asked sternly. A deep pang of fear was thrust down her spine. Asqudum smiled cruelly. "Do not fear. I have no suspicions as to the veracity of your oneiromantic talents, quite the contrary. Now, allow me to tell you about Nawirnushu''s dream last night: The sharru awoke in his own bedroom in the palace. He was clothed in the costume of Shumu nobility. The queen was similarly costumed in the ancient fashion, and the two of them attended a costumed banquet on the palace grounds. The king and queen were seperated. The king listened to a band who sang a haunting lamentation for Kharani. Then he began to drink and eat and saw that he was surrounded by the ancient kings from Kharani''s past. He distinctly named the old kings: Itud, Zumun-danum, Sharrukan, Nin Pakinana, Kisrisulupi, and his own father, Imeirilu. The king then saw his fallen nemesis, Enlil-bel-abli, and drew his weapon against him. A voice then cried out "Where is Bazi!?" and then Zumun disappeared into the black of the night." Miszatu lost her breath. Asqudum continued. "All the party guests disappeared and the king was left alone in the black night. The king wandered the streets of Kharani, which were empty and without a soul. The king heard the howl of wild animals, and then..." Aszudum paused to swallow. The portents of the story disturbed him as well. "The king was chased down by wild-dogs, and was himself torn apart in the shadow of an enormous bull, then he was swept away by Ziqiqu to the arms of Shamash." "Alas, when the sharru awoke in the morning he walked out towards the very same garden in which the banquet of his dream had taken place, and peering over the balcony into the canal, he discovered the sight of a corpse. A boy of only a few years old, torn apart like a butchered lamb." Miszatu gasped, her hands clasping to her mouth. These omens were terrifying. "How do you interpret the king''s dream, Miszatu?" Asqudum asked her. Miszatu took a moment to breathe and considered the elements of the two dreams. Then she began her analysis. "...So the king finds himself at a banquet in honor of the ancestors of the city, the importance of Kharani''s lineage seems obvious. The seven people you mentioned that the king saw at his party, Itud the founding king of Kharani, Zumun-Banda and Pakinana were infamous rulers of the Silver Age, Sharrakam was one of the very early Amuru kings, back when they still took the name "nugal", and Kisrisulupi represents the Hatti governorship and restoration of the city after the Hanigalbatu occupation. Namrazit, the king''s father, of course, represents the current dynasty. Even the king''s enemy, Enlil-Bel-Abli, is accounted for. This implies the complete ancestral line of the city''s kingship.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. I do not know what to make of the great bull in my king''s dream, but concerning my own dream, I thought it to imply some kind of rural theme, a warning for the earth itself. That prediction that I made did not come to pass, but the barren orchard, the hills, and I had read the silver wild bull as something to do with the wilderness country. Its three humps were clearly representing the mountains of the KUR sign, suggesting foreigness, savagery from the wicked places. The two dreams are united by this name, "Bazi", but their images are opposites." "Well, there are two Bazis it could refer to." Asqudum stated. "Either to the second king of Kharani, or to Bazi-riim-ile, the local king of Kharani who regained political independence after the collapse of the Hatti empire." "I know of the elder king, at least. The shepherd who brought Zumun''s cult north from the Sealands and established the most ancient and innermost of Kharani''s city walls." Miszatu recollected. "Wouldn''t the invocation of Bazi in the two dreams suggest a symbolic demand for a return to traditionalism? The values of Bazi''s time? His faithfulness in name to the city?" Asqudum wondered. "Actually," she suggested. "I think it sounds likely to be more specific to something. Otherwise, why would such a retinue of ghostly etemmu make use of Bazi in particular to emphasize their incompleteness?" "Hm. You raise a fair point." He conceded. "Furthermore, in both dreams, a darkness emerges from the absence of Lord Zuen. In mine, the loss of his cult-image. In the king''s, the obscuring of the moon by dark clouds. What troubles me especially is the empty city. For the eshkar ziqiqu clearly states that "If a man should find himself alone in his town; then a death will come to his village". Then the king is beset by wild-dogs. Again the emphasis on wildness, hul, lemnutu, evil." Miszatu explained. "Then comes the discovery of the boy''s body." stated Asqudum. "It''s a terrible omen. Not just for there to be a child murderer on the loose, not just for the such death to pollute the sacred canal, but for the king to be the first to see the death of such an innocent, it is a very grave omen! It mutiplies the danger of all the previous omens! Along with his dream, it is as if in the king having discovered death, the whole city itself has discovered death!" She explained. "The portents of this sort of discovery marks our land for ruin." Asqudum replied. "Kharani''s position in the world as a free port of trade between nations is deeply threatened. Our independence is precarious, standing mostly on a thousand years of tradition and decorum more than anything else. This murder is also indicative of a grave crime against an innocent within our community. A foolish advisor might, in such an instance of crisis, merely requisition the temple to propitiate the gods in the kingdom''s favor, but as you know, the whole point of divination is that causes lead to outcomes. I want to know what evil to befall Kharani would herald itself with a dead child." Asqudum declared. He continued. "What I need is someone with our profession''s expertise to investigate a matter of importance to the city of Kharani and its king. Miszatu, as a hayyadu you can read the signs, you know how to follow an inquiry, and your position as a naditu sha Nanshe would make it easy for you to get close to people in the city. If you can speak to the right people and gather more information about who is behind this death, and how it came about, then we can begin to counter this disastrous forecast." Miszatu considered all of this for a moment. "Beliya, with respect, I wish to serve the gods and the city, but I do not think that I am cut out for chasing the trail of murderers and evils in the night." she protested. Asqudum scoffed. "Well, you do not have a choice. If you do not work for me in this matter then I will have to have a talk with your superior sisters about your little secret." With Asqudum''s threat, Nungal''s cold claws took grip of her spine. Asqudum smirked at her reaction. Then his face evened. "Miszatu, there are not many people like us in this city. People who think like us, with personal gods like us. I need you to do this for me. You really may be the best hope that Kharani has." Miszatu took a deep breath, trying to disguise her indignation at the weight of responsibility heaved upon her. "Okay. I''ll do it." She conceded. "Right now we must find the parents of the slain child. As the child was found on the other side of the canal from the royal gardens. I would ask around for them in the lower town around the E-anna district. If you find them, learn from them everything that they can recall and follow that as far as it will lead you. We will meet again to discuss your investigation tomorrow morning." "...Yes, Bel." "Before you go, I have something for you." Asqudum got up from his desk and started lightly sifting through the stacks of tablets, stamps, and implements on the shelf behind him. He fished out a slender cylinder seal the size of a finger. In his other hand he took a clump of clay which he had in his office reserve. He rolled the seal across the clay, impressing the stunningly detailed incised scene of a luxurious banquet shared by birds, mice, and fish in the place of human guests onto the spread of clay. "This seal demonstrates that you are my servant, and gives you full access to most administrative resources in the city." Asqudum pierced her gaze with his squinted, beady eyes. "Do not make me regret entrusting this with you." He said as he placed the soapstone cylinder in Miszatu''s hand. She nodded. "Alright, you are dismissed." Miszatu stood up from the chair, bowed, and retreated outside back to the hall. Before departing she stood outside the door for a moment, letting out a deep sigh of relief and a quiet proclamation of gratitude to her lady. Then her attention fell to the ornate seal she held between her fingertips. She reeled to consider that the authority to alter the city''s fate lay in her hand, and resolved herself to honor its trust. Chapter 5 - It Is Sweet To Praise You Although Asqudum had charged the guards at his disposal to guide Miszatu towards the part of the outer city she was to investigate upon leaving the Eygalbanda, she declined and simply asked for directions. She did not want to bring any undue attention to herself and I could not imagine the dour presence of the palace guard would be respectful to a mourning family if she did find the boy''s parents. In any case, after all the terrors of this morning, she needed the grounding of morning prayer. Miszatu arrived, now undeterred, back at the powder blue walls of the Bit Nanshe complex. She opened the gate and crossed the courtyard, walking over the cool shadow of the great sacred kishkanu tree, Mesumun, its branches stirring softly in the breeze as in ancient days. The tree was seeded at the founding of their sisterhood in Kharani''s silver age, and now it was one of the most ancient things standing sentry over the city. As Miszatu walked to the sunny pasture at the end of the courtyard, where the colorful, princely kudurannu-birds stalked between the gravel for squirming worms, and zabaru-birds zig-zagged between the sweet flowers, she was greeted by the moo of their milk cows, Ningal and Ninisina. The Bit Nanshe was a courtyard perched on the inner city''s bank surrounded by the box-like apartments of the naditu sisters with a communal building for dining and cooking, and the main E-Sirara temple ended the block, perched facing out over the canal. Kiddinitu, her little sister, and Ummi-Nanshe, her slave attendant, both sat on the stoop outside the dining hall and kitchen, playing with the litter kittens which had come the week before from two of their cats, Russhu and Lahamatu. The little animals dashed across the laps of the two girls and peered out at Miszatu with hubris and trepidation, towering over the girls'' shoulders like goats on mountains. Ummi-Nanshe held up one by the arm pits who she snuggled to her cheeks. Kiddinitu petted her palms all down her dress upon which five kitties clung and kneaded like brooches. "Aaalluuu Miszatu! It''s so nice to see you! We missed you this morning!" Kiddinitu greeted. Miszatu smiled. "Shulmu Kiddi, Ummi, how are the kitties doing!?" "Ehehehe, they''re just beginning to learn how to jump, and they''re not all the way there." Giggled Kiddinitu. "None of them get too hurt though. Even the runt is getting his footing." Explained Ummi-Nanshe. "Awwww, that''s so great! Do either of you two know where Sister Ayatu is?" Miszatu asked. "You just missed her! She''s making her rounds. Sister Kabtaya is knitting in the parlour." Kiddinitu answered. "Miszatu, There''s still plenty of breakfast leftover! I got up early and made fresh bread, so take that for the day along with your boiled eggs, cheese, and apples." Ummi-Nanshe advertised to her with pride. "I even got up early and helped!" Kiddinitu announced. "Oh Kiddinitu, no soft dream or stormy nightmare Ziqiqu ever sailed could ever wake you up before Ummi-Nanshe." Miszatu kidded. The two girls burst out laughing, which was greeted by looks of confusion on the miniature lions'' faces. "Oh sweet sisters, I have been remiss in my morning prayers, so I am off to our lady to offer my day''s affections. Take care with your little ones!" Miszatu waved to the two of them as she opened the gate of the E-Sirara. She opened the door to the sanctuary from the courtyard, there was another public entrance off of the alley facing the canal that worshipers were meant to use, and was confronted by The Sharrum sha Paspasu himself, Uzu-Gal, the nugal of the pond ducks, who shot Miszatu a frightening look of judgment. He and his harem, composed of the princesses Nin-Ugudu, Nin-Turusa, and Nin-Mudirig, gaggled past Miszatu out from the sanctuary, gawking at her vulgarity, out into the courtyard. The king''s stable of green and speckled ministers gaggled and quacked as they waddled behind frantically. Certainly not a retinue to be trifled with. Miszatu stepped into the chapel, which was unusually dark. The shutters were drawn on the open right wall which looked out over the canal. The sanctuary was silent but for the The Lady''s chamber, which was lit with only oil lamps and votive candles. In the flickering light, rows upon rows of eyes peered out at her from the darkness at the edges of the sanctuary. The niches and benches which lined the walls of the chapel were covered in little people. Clay images of men and women of Kharani who stood only as tall as her knees, dressed in their finest ancestral clothing, stilled in gestures of prostration and reverence to Nanshe. Some had even stood there for hundreds of years. The people of Kharani deigned to dwell forever in the company of the goddess they so loved, and just as surely she would flow abundance and refreshment to them, even in dusty Kurnugu, the earth of no return. The E-Sirara was almost as old as Kharani itself, the cult of the earliest immigrants, tradesmen, smugglers, craftworkers, and merchants who came up north on the Purattu from cities like Eridu and Nina looking for a better life. Though the shrine was established during the reign of the third king, Urnu.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. The Bit-Naditu itself didn''t exist until the Silver Age. As the city grew in wealth and importance, the kings, administrators, and merchants found themselves needing a place to house daughters whose marital status had hit complications. In little time, the ladies who took the role of Naditu of the E-sirara found themselves great socialites, Three of the four great Silver Age queens who ruled unwed, Amar-Nanshe, Pakinana, and Amat-Zuen, grew up in The House of the Naditu from their early adolescence. The Lady stood barefoot at the edge of the ritual pond in her sanctuary. The tufts of the lady''s gunakku gown were speckled brilliantly blue, green, and gold and silver, like the feathers of the hayaa bird. Her necklace and bangles of silver and her horned crown of gold, modeled after the grooves a bee''s hive, shimmered dully in the low light. From her arms the lady always poured the holy waters, yet today the triple stream did not shower forth from the fountain. Miszatu was struck that the soft expression on her lady''s face seemed less reassuring and more ambiguous than usual. In front of Lady Nanshe lay the abzu basin into which the E-Sirara''s holy waters had been poured from the lady''s father in Eridu, though the water in the artificial pond truly flowed from a subterranean cistern linked to the city canal. In her holy waters, the old sages glimmered, descendants of the primeval fish from Eridu in whom Enki, lord of the deep, bestowed wisdom and luminance. Miszatu knelt before the abzu and her lady''s imposing figure. She lowered her head, closed her eyes, raised her arms in praise, and uttered her utterances: "O Beloved Nanshe, Lady of Abundance, It is you for whom the land swells fat Like a wall of honeycomb, The sweetness of the hive''s bounty, Her charm makes the storerooms bulge, O Nanshe, it is sweet to praise you! O Daughter of Eridu, Lady of the School, For Whom the silver fish shimmer, Beneath the shining rays of Utu, Dashing to and fro in the holy abyss, The purity of wisdom which your father gave you, As a gift poured with delight, Which showers your feet and toes, O Nanshe, it is sweet to praise you! O Queen of Feathers, Lady of the Birds, The flocks flutter in jubilation, They adorn your favorite tree, Shakkal-Munair, Chirping songs of solidarity, Like Mullil''s whirligigs, Just like the men of the city, Some sport brilliant coats, Some are of muddled down, But you spread seed for them all, Just the same! O Nanshe, it is sweet to praise you! O Thoughtful One, Your heart is with the orphan, Your heart is with the widow, Your heart is with the kindness of strangers, Your heart is with the wellbeing of the slave, In the sack of the poor man, she puts sustenance, For the pure maiden, she finds a good husband, For the righteous man, she arranges a good wife, Your heart is with the buzzing of the bees, Your heart is with the migration of the birds, Your heart is with the basking of the fish, Your heart is with the community, O Nanshe, it is sweet to praise you!" After she had finished her service, Miszatu went to the kitchen where she scavenged the spread laid by Ummi-Nanshe and Kiddinitu. She assembled a basket of flat-bread, hummus, cheese, eggs, dates, onions, and two jars of cow''s milk. Enough food to goad the good will of anyone she should meet. She hastily gobbled down an apple as she assembled the bribe-bag. "Miszatu?" whispered out a raspy voice behind her. Miszatu spun around in surprise. "Ah! Lady bless you, Sister Kabtaya! I did not see you there!" Sister Kabtaya sat in the cool shade at the back of the common area, sitting in her wooden chair, knitting a scarf in deep blues, blacks, and whites. Since she was a girl Miszatu had marveled at the way the old woman''s masterful weaving truly made the cloth seem like rippling water. Miszatu was always nervous when she encountered the Bit Naditu''s matriarch. Although she was now an adult, she could still remember her severe discipline. Yet things were different now. Miszatu was no longer a girl, but a woman, and now such harsh scrutiny would reflect worse on the teacher than the student, yet Kabtaya''s stirring still made Miszatu flinch. "I heard your prayer in the chapel. Why were you not present this morning?" This was the very question Miszatu was hoping to avoid. "I had to leave early this morning to provide services for an ailing client. He is a fisherman, burned extensively when his ship capsized over an ordeal vent in the swamps. It takes much time and dedication to change his bandages, make breakfast, and console his wife." "So he has a wife? Why does she not wake up early to do these tasks for her ailing husband?" "Such terrible wounds are dressed better by steady and refreshed hands. The woman is almost a widow!" Miszatu was ashamed, by her Lady, that she had such talent for oath-breaking. "Hm. I noticed you prayed with your own zamarru to honor our lady." Miszatu sighed to herself. "Do you disapprove?" "No, no, my little sister. Truly you are an excellent poet, your zamarru compositions are masterful, and come straight from your heart. Your Emesal is impeccable, your words are like the words of Enheduanna herself. I do not seek to chastise you, Miszatu, I just feel that it is important to sing the old songs as they are sometimes too. Especially in times like these." My elder sister explained. "What do you mean?" I asked. "Have you heard the terrible news this morning?" she inquired. Miszatu paused for a moment. She told another lie. She hated lying. "No, what happened?" She asked, feigning ignorance. "They found a little boy''s dead body floating in the canal this morning, and moreover, it was Shakkunakku Nawirnushu himself who found him. All of us were there at morning prayer when... when the Lady''s agubu jar began to spout blood from the canal." A sharp chill ran down Miszatu''s spine. "Lady preserve us, it was dreadful. In all my years I''ve never seen anything like it. We had to close the blinds so that supplicants would not notice as it drained. May our lady pour sweet water for that poor boy in the afterlife, and for the fortunes of Kharani as well." Kabtaya lamented. Miszatu didn''t know what to say. "Where are you carting all that food off to?" Kabtaya asked. Again, Miszatu regretted that she must speak dishonestly: "I am going to see another client this afternoon, A Houri family with triplets! The snacks make my work that much less stressful." Ahatu Kabtaya smiled. "Take care, be back in time for dinner." She implored with a soft smile as she resumed work on her intricate embroidery. Chapter 6 (A) - Investigation in the E-anna District Leaving and locking the blue gate behind her, Mizatu began her walk through the brilliantly painted walled blocks, large estates, and courtyards of the old town. She took her regular route northwest through the narrow side-alleys and shortcuts to find the main street through the wealthy district. She followed the sandy dirt road, which had been there since the founding of the city, down towards its decline at the canal bank. Once Miszatu had reached the bottom of the depression and the shimmering blue waters of the Purattu were in plain view, she walked up to the large arched gate, the Bab sha Zumun, which seperated the majority of the mushkennu of the city from the awilu. Miszatu was almost excited to show off the seal which Asqudum had assigned to her. She was quite familiar with the small staff who operated the gate, since her services as a naditu would often necessitate her passage between the old and lower city, unlike most of old town''s residents. Nabi-Shamash and Mar-Ninanna stood at the door, though she usually knew them to be jovial and laid-back, today they stood at rigid attention before the gate. Their spears upraised. They must have been scolded to be more vigilant after the drama of this morning. Miszatu was disappointed. Their good cheer was always something she appreciated in her daily commute. The slow-pace of their job made their skills as eshra-mitartu players legendary, yet today, the board, the dice, and the tokens were nowhere to be seen. Miszatu approached them and they met her with their eyes. She stopped in her tracks and fumbled with the folds of her gown to produce the beautiful cylinder seal for passage, but before she had managed to grasp it they had already creaked the gate open for her. "Aalluu Miszatu, just go right through." Mar-Ninanna greeted her. Miszatu was slightly disappointed not to be able to share her new authority with pleasant acquaintances, but no matter, it was a somber day. She walked through the gate and strolled across the arched bridge which connected the west and east side of town, dallying a little to see if she could spot the shadows of any passing fish. Young boys floated downstream from her in their reed gondolas. Miszatu crossed the bridge into the lower city. Though she had made frequent trips to the district, the city beyond old town was five times the size of the central district, and many of its locales were still strange to her. It would be unsafe for a naditu to venture into the more uncouth parts of the city, and a flagrant violation of their vows in other instances. Miszatu cautiously wound her way through the side-streets, strafing southwest through the labyrinthine alleys towards the E-anna district. Most of the buildings on the way were small, one room houses in varying states of disrepair. She could hear harried mothers and mischievous children bustling through their homes and yards. She deftly side-stepped the rubble and sherds which lay strewn all across the ground. Following a shoddy alley which snaked up a modest incline, Miszatu came to the plaza at the center of the E-anna. The temple of Inanna sat at the back, steps leading to the elevated chapel above the workshops and plots which surrounded it. In the plaza stood a handful of stands and professionals offering their services, and in the shadow of those outlets was huddled a line of beggars who reclined on their blankets in the sweltering afternoon, poor broken souls cheated of limb and teeth. As she looked around to try to get a better sense of her orientation around the plaza, Miszatu began to notice the crowds of flamboyantly dressed women who loitered around the outskirts of the plaza and the steps of the temple.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. Miszatu decided she wanted to start checking out the neighborhood without drawing attention to herself, so she stepped out of the plaza and began walking further west towards the Ninanna gate, which was unmanned, and passed through to the sunny fields beyond. When she came out from the gate it opened onto the gardening plots which lay sandwiched between the outer and interior defensive walls of the city. Since there had been no assault on the walls in many years, the space in the dry moat between the gates was often rented out to mushkennu and waradu in the city as horticultural land. Many poor families and slaves depended on their yields from these gardens for their very survival. Miszatu began strolling between the lot of gardening plots which were clustered together, segmented off into uneven grids by the artificial watering canals dug out of the ground and connected to the well which sat in the center of the lot. As it was the middle of summer, the plots were thickly populated by chickpeas, lentils, and turnips, the seeds having already been sown, the garden crops did not need to be tended so vigilantly until the fall. The field was empty, save for an old woman and a younger woman hunched over together by a small plot of early blooming lentils, only a cubit or so in length and width. Seeing the only two people working the garden, Miszatu hailed and walked towards them. The old woman stood up from her tending to meet her. As she drew closer and closer, Miszatu watched as her eyes bugled. As she finally stepped next to her, Miszatu saw that she was a woman of considerable age, worn on her face bundled in a black shawl which must have been sweltering in this season, her brows furrowed and her mouth soured. The woman began to irately shout at Miszatu in Houri, something along the lines of: ["What is wrong with you! How do you not look where you are going! How many hours of work did you step on!?"] Miszatu was shocked. Why was this woman so angry at her? Had she done something wrong? "My mother is angry at you because just stepped on half of our plot, Beletiya." stated the unamused younger woman in a slightly Houri tinged Akkadu. She looked down at her sandals and saw the squashed bean pods and upturned roots she had left in her wake. The Houri woman continued to shout and berate her, but she still had no idea what she was saying. A good shaming passes every tongue. "I am so so sorry, ma''am. I am a naditu of the Lady Nanshe, we offer rations to all who ask. If you come by the E-Sirara just tell my sisters and they will reimburse you anything I have damaged." Miszatu offered in genuine apology in order to quell her embarrassment. "The promise of a future meal across the river is of little use to us. What do you want, Beletiya?" the old Houri woman''s daughter snapped at her. "Do you know when more people come by to tend the fields? I''m here trying to find a mother missing a child who might live around here." Miszatu pleaded. "Most of these fields belong to the tribe that the overseer of the E-Anna district belongs to. They send their slaves here in the morning. We''ve heard nothing about a missing child." replied the younger woman. ["What does she want?"] The old woman asked her daughter. ["The lady is looking for a woman missing a child around here."] the younger Houri woman answered. The old woman''s ire seemed momentarily placated, she began shaking her fingers rythmically explaining to her daughter: ["Ahh, Well I see why she would come here. She should check the ladies of Shaushka. Also, failing that, she should go to the weaver house."] Miszatu pretended to follow what she was saying, but she actually just savored the sonorous quality of her speech in Houri like appreciating a song. "Mama says that you should speak to the ladies of Shaushka-" "Shaushka?" The young woman poked the edge of her ear and closed her eyes, embarrassed to have not caught a fault in her own Akkadu. She continued. "Ah, Ninnana. The Ladies of Ninnana outside the temple. She is Shaushka in Houri. Also you should ask around the Weaver House across the square!" Miszatu nodded. she spoke in clear and slower Akkadu, just in case the old Houri woman was better at listening. "Thank you both so much! I am so sorry for damaging your plot! Please come by the E-Sirara whenever you can, I will personally arrange to make sure that the guards flag you through the gate!" "We will hold you to that, Beletiya!" the young woman called back at her in a disgruntled monotone as Miszatu walked briskly back to the E-anna plaza. Chapter 6 (B) - Investigation in the E-anna District Fleeing one embarrassing situation and casting herself into another, Miszatu was back in the plaza, now directly facing the crowd of night women who leaned together on the brick walls of one of the temple''s storage annexes. Some of the women dressed the same as any mushkennu housewife, in light long gowns of deep greens, blues, and oranges. Others wore brilliant shawls of red and indigo only to emphasize their sex. A few very brave girls stood around completely naked, their pubic hair trimmed into a harsh triangle in the old fashion of their Lady. No matter what, all the girls were clad in some jewelry or amulet, bangles, necklaces, earrings, all as some token of their devotion in life to the Lady of the Rainbow. After she scanned the crowd of them, as Miszatu walked towards them she averted her eyes. Then, reflecting on their beauty, she looked up at them again. There was a joy and a sweetness about their gathering that seemed so inviting. Yet, as Miszatu began to entertain such a notion, her gaze was met squarely by one of them. A tall and imposing barebreasted woman in a sheepskin skirt who wore a silver nosering. Miszatu turned her head to the ground as she walked past the group in the square but she lamented that she could still feel the woman''s evil eye upon her, and it made her frantic with her personal god! It was not that Miszatu thought less of the prostitutes when her vows were so different, but that it would be so improper for her to mingle with them and their lady. ''O Lady Ninanna, you are the goddess who brings abundance and brilliance to all things, all those things of fertility and life! Yet here I am. A fallow one. Someone closer to death than to life. It would not only be taboo to speak to them, I would only get in their way.'' Miszatu berated herself as she walked away. After brooding over such a discrepancy with her personal god for a moment, Miszatu felt her ears again and took hold of her legs, and she now searched frantically for the Weaver''s House the Houri pair had told her about, silently pleading with her Lady that she would not need to return through the way she had come from. In little time she found the weaver''s house, which was announced by its arresting signage: a series of shrine niches, built into the outside wall of the house, displayed row after row of loom amulets, carved into the faces of animals, people, sacred symbols, and gods alongside personal offerings of fruit, nuts, and cheap incense. The shrine must have represented generations of weaver women and their families who fashioned their worn tools into protective talismans. Their haunting yet vacuous eyes seemed to pierce Miszatu with judgment. She knocked lightly on the front door. There was no answer. She knocked again. No answer. She knocked again, this time as hard as she could! No answer. ''How could no one be in there? It''s the middle of the day!'' She knocked hard one last time. She waited for a time, and then as she was about to be on her way, the door opened. A noticeably sweaty and rather chubby bald and beardless man in a blue gown, holding a pitch black hardwood cane, like the one Miszatu''s schoolmasters used to punish them with, emerged from the weavers'' house. "What d''ya want!!!?" the big man bellowed, somewhat before it seems he had even checked to see who it was. "Shulmu sir, Anaku Naditu sha Nanshe. I am here because-" Before Miszatu had even finished her introduction, the man had angrily ducked back into the workhouse and slammed the door behind him. Miszatu rushed up and pounded on the door as hard as she could, shouting for attention. She didn''t stop pounding the door until she could feel the vibration of footsteps on the other end. The huge man once again opened the portal. "Piss off!" He shouted. "I am here on the authority of the palace! I work in service to Asqudum, the king''s ummanu!" Miszatu declared. "Fat chance! Go on! Get fucked!" He shewed. "No, you bring me rolling clay, I will prove it!" she proclaimed, producing the seal which Asqudum had given her. A moment later, upon inspecting the intricate scene of Miszatu''s seal, the fat man''s tone softened. "Ah-ha, my apologies, Beletiya. Plenty of people come by trying to distract my girls, and we''re behind on our output, but I can''t refuse the palace. Please follow me!" He implored, motioning her inside the weaver''s house with his cane. The moment she entered the workshop, Miszatu was hit by its oppressive air. The one room workhouse was small and tightly packed, the space not even so large as her lady''s chapel, but filled with more than twenty women and girls working their looms dutifully and silently. Miszatu was struck by the stale atmosphere of dried out fabric. The workshop was lit by an open roof in its center, down through which shined the sweltering sun of midday, though the heavy dark shade of the mudbrick walls and the corners of the ceiling seemed to provide some relief from the heat. The bitter musk of ceaseless sweat was pungent throughout the room.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. The old women worked the most elaborate looms, machines handed down from their grandparents and refurbished for perhaps a century. The machines were beautiful and elaborate, displaying ornamental decorations of goats, sheep, and birds, but their overall look was eclectic, with various equipment having been visibly repaired and replaced with less aesthetically pleasing parts over the years. The experienced weavers spun light colorful cloth, embroidering complex patterns of silver and goldleaf into the fine textiles. At the other experiential extreme of the sweatshop, the youngest girls were not even ten years old, but sat at their mothers'' feet, working together and daintly threading bewilderingly elaborate rugs and patterns with their small and precise little fingers. Their hands were already callused and bruised, and Miszatu recalled that she had often heard stories of careless girls with mangled fingers, already set on a tragic life of destitution for their infirmity. A few of the expert weavers wove their traditional and ornate Akkadu styles: Beautiful floral patterns as pleasingly patterned and colorful as any specimen found in the royal gardens, kishkanu trees flowing with sacred waters, shawls inlaid with the celestial symbols of the gods. Most of the women and girls, however, wove cheap and uncreative fabrics. These were clearly meant as cheap knockoffs of Hatti fashions, using inferior dye and less refined fabrics, serving as the new mass-produced fashion for the well to do but struggling mushkennu all along the coast. As Miszatu entered, the women scarcely even turned their heads up towards her. There was no joy in the whole place. Only a silent and somber resignation among these women to the indignity necessary for their very survival. ''How many more of these dire sweatshops existed in Kharani? Miszatu wondered. ''Thirty? Sixty? One hundred?'' The fat man followed close behind her, the threat of his cane outstretched. As he followed her path he inspected each of the girls, smacked them if their posture was bad, and then applied the tap of the cane to dictate the tilt of their head and the straightness of their spine. It once again reminded Miszatu of her cruel schoolmasters, yet these women did not labor for wisdom, but merely for the means to survive. Their chastisement should not have been so. It disgusted her. "They are not normally so lazy, Awilatiya. The long shadows of midday makes their eyelids heavy. It is my mistake" the overseer cravenly explained. Miszatu forgave them, but I did not forgive him. "If you don''t mind, sir, I would like to speak to them woman to woman." She said. Implying that the gatekeeper should leave the room. "Aye, I ''ear you!" said the man, seemingly chewing on something rather than listening to me. The fat man jabbed some of the young girls sitting in front and tapped irreverently on the sides of the ancient looms. "Oy, listen up! Quit your yammering!" he shouted, his bellows echoing through the workshop. None of the women, especially the master seamstresses, had been utterly silent, but she watched their sharp green and brown eyes drew to the man who humiliated them like daggers. "Listen up! This lady ''ere is a messenger for the king! You know what that means? One word from her, and you''re out on the streets or worse! I don''t wanna hear you''ve been holding out on whatever she''s here for!" The big man threatened. Miszatu''s face went white as Zumun''s at the brute''s introduction. The room stared at her with a cold contempt for her perceived authority. "I am sorry to bother all of you, but I am looking for someone who is missing a child." "Who here isn''t missing a child?" a sharp-tongued woman in the crowd retorted. Miszatu didn''t see who she was, but a few of the women seemed to snicker and murmur. "What did I just say!?! What did I just tell you!?!!" the fat man shouted, after having knocked the great looms again with his beating stick to signal his displeasure at his workers'' honest response, like a stubborn child having a tantrum. Miszatu hastened her solicitation: "It is painful to have to say that a boy''s body was found in the river this morning. Has anyone you know lost a boy?" "Maybe it was one of my boys." said a middle-aged woman sitting to my right. "I wouldn''t know if they were gone one way or another. I barely see them more than putting them to bed in the evening. Who knows where they are most of the day? Maybe I forgot one." The girls laughed faintly. Miszatu shot the fat man a look of scorn to preempt any temptation on his part to voice another outburst, but he just looked at her, confused. Miszatu turned back to the weavers. Another younger woman spoke up. "On account of the Lady of Nanshe, Do any of us know for certain if we are missing a child?". The room was flooded in whispers at the query, but nobody spoke up. Miszatu sighed. "Do you know anywhere nearby where I should ask?" "You should talk to the Ladies of Ninanna in the square outside the E-anna. We know every night we can afford to feed our families. We''re the lucky ones, Awilatiya." The earlier young woman replied. Miszatu smiled, but privately she grew anxious about speaking to the prostitutes in the square. "Thank you all, I am sorry to interrupt you. For your time and your cooperation in this investigation, I must invite you that you are all welcome to come for a meal and extra rations at the E-Sirara if it so pleases you! The Lady Nanshe is very generous, especially in hard times like these!" The girls'' faces seemed relieved at the promise of free food and a little more help getting by. She continued. "Also, Ahaatiya," Miszatu turned around and pointed to the brutish supervisor. "If this one beats you on my account, or in any way harms you without cause, and if the chastisement is severe and brings unwellness which interferes with your health, speak to me of it! I will surely tell the king and hold his negligence to account." The women could not believe what the naditu had just said! The sweatshop was filled in a cacophony of laughter and howls. The fat man''s eyes widened and his brows furrowed at the sight of her. Miszatu smiled and as she marched out the door, she savoured the sound as the cries of impotent rage by the supervisor was drowned out in the defiant joy of the seamstresses. Chapter 6 (C) - Investigation in the E-anna District Miszatu left the weaver''s house with a small skip to her step and singing in her heart. As she walked further out into the street and towards the plaza, her pace was slowed by the presence of people up ahead facing her. Two women walked briskly towards her, one dressed modestly in a long olive green Hatti gown with a dark complexion and copper eyes, the other was the woman who had stared at her before, nude but for wearing no more than a gunakku kilt and a small nosering. "Excuse me, naditu! Are you looking for something in particular?" asked the woman with a western accent. "Um, I think I am looking for you, actually! Are you..." it was difficult for Miszatu to find the right way to talk about this, "...Are you Ladies of Innana?" "What are you saying!? Do we look like whores to you!?" angrily barked the girl with the nosering. Miszatu didn''t realize how offensive the question had been. "Oh... uh... well, no, I don''t know if that means-" "Oh, Child of Nanshe, do not take my sister seriously! She was only kidding! Of course we are whores! What can we help you with?" interceded the woman in the Hatti clothing. "Just for the record, I am deeply offended." interrupted the one with the nosering. The other woman smacked her tits with the tips of her fingers. Miszatu was distracted for a moment, and then shame came over her for the lingering of her eyes. "I am in this district looking for someone in particular. I was wondering if the Ladies of Ninanna could help me? I am looking for any woman or parent who is missing a little boy." Miszatu explained. The woman with the coastal tinge to her voice stroked her chin. "That sounds to me like Adad-Duri. She''s been missing her boy Ninurta-Ibni a few nights now. Hasn''t been on the rounds, she wants to be waiting at home if he comes back, and ain''t none of us are going to judge her for that." The barebreasted woman buried her face in her palms. "How terrible if her boy is truly lost! What such tidings of the boy do you bring, O Naditu sha Nanshe?" she asked. "Terrible tidings, I must confess. This morning Bel Nawirnushu found the body of a young boy floating in the river downstream of this district. The palace has tasked me with finding the child''s family." Miszatu explained. "How dreadful! Lady have mercy!" the woman with the nosering pronounced. The coarseness of her initial demeanor replaced with an equally outspoken, yet genuine sincerity. "The lady''s love to Adad-Duri! It is a terrible thing to lose a child." declared the woman in the Hatti gown. "Do you know where I might find this Adad-Duri?" Miszatu asked. "She lives in a neighborhood just northwest of here. There''s a courtyard with a strangely planted palm tree which announces its entrance." Explained the western woman. "I''m sorry, but what is your name?" again intruded the woman with the nosering. "My name is Miszatu. I am a naditu at the E-sirara, but I am here conducting an investigation for the palace." she explained. "Mostly I just want to find whoever would hurt a child in this city and make sure they are brought to justice." "Ah, it is good to meet you, Miszatu. I am Ninanna-Sharra," the woman in the green gown introduced herself, "and my friend is-" "I am Lurindu." explained the voluptuous woman whose breasts she could not stop staring at. Ninanna-Sharra took my hand and placed my palm on her heart. "O Miszatu, It is good to know that the Ladies of the E-Sirara still care for their neighbors. Our Ladies are sisters, and so too should we be sisters!" "Thank you, Ahaatu." Miszatu said, smiling. "I am sorry for my indirectness, but I am unsure how to approach those with vows so different from my own." "We understand, that''s why we followed you out of the main street." Said Lurindu. "If it is too informal to speak to whores in the street, surely noone would frown upon a visit to the E-anna. Woe if our ladies would not smile upon our friendship!" asserted Ninanna-Sharra. "It is good to hear, my new friends! You are also more than welcome to a meal at the E-Sirara if you ever find yourselves in the old city." Miszatu reciprocated. "A caution, Miszatu:" pronounced Ninanna-Sharra. "In my experience there can be no notions of justice upon the death of a child. It is always but a sorrow, and little more." Miszatu believed she understood. ''How many children must die in these slums by the moon? What justice could they ever expect?'' She lamented. "I understand. I will speak to Adad-Duri with utmost care for her heart. It pains me if I must bring her such bad tidings." She affirmed. "Best of luck! Tell Adad-Duri she has our love when she is ready to see us!" Ninanna-Sharra offered. "Follow the rainbow!" shouted Lurindu, laughing as they walked away, an appeal to trust in the goodwill of their mistress. Mizatu took her leave and kept marching deeper and deeper into the dilapidated alleys of the E-anna district''s periphery. As she continued to drive deeper into the city, She could scarcely see any more workhouses or public buildings. The architecture of the city changed into monotonous wall after wall of the large and closed off neighborhoods and courtyards which constituted the closest thing to safe housing for most of the waradu and mushkennu in the city. The apartments did not look especially happy or inviting, and Miszatu continued to see more beggars and prostitutes looming in the walkways, looking to get by just one more night. The sun was setting fast, and long shadows began to assert their dominion over the streets. After walking until she could not, Miszatu finally saw the landmark she was looking for. A courtyard marked by a palm tree at its entrance. This must have been the walled complex where Adad-Duri lived. She entered the block''s dusty threshold. No plants grew within it, but a child''s ball sat ominously in the field of sand. The first house in the courtyard was two stories, and larger than the smaller apartments laid as one-room cells around the square. This must have been the mushkennu landlord''s residence. Miszatu was prepared to knock on the front door, but three young boys, none older than twelve, sat in a row at the edge of their yard, sifting the sand through their toes and carelessly knocking each others'' kneecaps. ''If anybody was going to know about a missing friend, it would be them!'' she reasoned. Miszatu approached the boys. "Aaluu Maruu! Anaku naditu sha Nanshe. I am looking for a woman around here named Adad-Duri. Do you know where she is?" The boy at the end, whose mouth was full of dates, pointed frantically to the furthest house down. "Ahh, thank you! I just wanted to ask, does Adad-Duri have a son?" she asked. "Yeah! Ningirsu-Ibni! We haven''t seen him for a few days though." The boy in the middle said.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. "He''s got to come back! Our teams are so unfair without him!" The little boy at the end whined. "Shut up, you dumb baby! When we''re grown up and fighting the Kassu do you think it''s going to matter how the teams are balanced!" the boy in the middle barked. The boy started to cry. "I miss Ningirsu-Ibni!" Miszatu patted the boy on the head, trying to suppress her own distress at the truth. "I will be sure to tell him that if I see him." She said to the littlest boy. Shooting him a soft smile. "Thank you for the directions!" "Be nice to Adad-Duri! Daddy''s always complaining that she never makes rent, but she seems like a nice lady!" called the one in the middle. "I will!" she called back. At the far end of the complex, next to similarly compact residences, stood a small mudbrick shack. It looked about the size of the single square cubit plot which the Houri women were tending. Miszatu was incredulous. ''A whole family is supposed to live in this dwelling? My personal apartment is three times this size!'' Miszatu knocked on the door to the shack lightly. There was no answer. She did so again, and then she heard something inside shift around. A young woman wearing a black shawl opened the door, she looked to be in her late teens or early twenties, around Miszatu''s own age. Heavy banks of smudged kohl had formed beneath her eyes. Her hair was frazzled and unwashed. "Excuse me, are you Adad-Duri?" Miszatu asked. "...Yes ...who are you?" She answered. "My name is Miszatu. I am a naditu of the goddess Nanshe at the E-Sirara in the old city. Would you mind if I came in?" "Why... are you here?" she asked. "Could I come in?" Miszatu asked again. "It''s about Ningirsu-Ibni, isn''t it?" the young woman pressed. Miszatu paused. She searched in vain for the right words to speak next. She tried to put on a comforting smile, but she knew in the moment that it only came off as troubling and insincere. "Could I come in?" Adad-Duri''s face erupted into tears, she flung herself onto Miszatu''s shoulder with such force that she nearly keeled over. She sobbed heavy into the wool of Miszatu''s gunakku gown, and Miszatu could not help but embrace her and comfort her with her touch. Across the field, Miszatu saw the three boys watch, and seeing Adad-Duri''s state, they slowly got up and went inside their home. She supposed even a child could guess what had happened to Ningirsu-Ibni. After giving the grieving mother a chance to catch her breath, Miszatu interrupted her mourning. "Please, Adad-Duri. We should speak inside." It took a few moments for Adad-Duri to calm down, and Miszatu waited patiently for her to lead the way into her home. She opened the door and crouched her head underneath the door frame. Miszatu did the same. Miszatu saw plainly that the home in which Adad-Duri lived and had tried to raise her boy was no more than a storage closet, hardly fit for a sheepdog let alone a mother and her son. ''Even I almost had to crouch beneath the ceiling!'' In the center of the room sat a bronze brazier hearth. Beside the hearth was splayed blankets of goatskin and cheap pillows, Ningirsu-ibni''s toys were strewn across the room. Miszatu knelt down with Adad-Duri on her bedding. Now that they were in private, Adad-Duri''s expression was again choked by tears. "What happened?" She asked. "Awilatiya, I do not know if the news which I will bring you relates to you directly, or whether it is an unpleasant similarity, but the body of a boy, about the age of your son, was found by King Nawirnushu in the canal." Adad-Duri heaved tears after the naditu''s statement. Miszatu tried to console her. "I am only here to investigate. It may not be Ningirsu-Ibni, you may not be the only woman missing a child." "No, I know that it is him!" the mother pronounced tearfully. "Ziqiqu showed me his fate in my dreams last night. I was foolish to have hoped things were otherwise!" showering her dirt floor in salt water. "My lady, I am an initiated hayyadu. Tell me about this dream! I implore you!" "I was there. I was on the shore. It was the canal, but it was not the canal, you know? It was the same waters of the Purattu, but it was not in the city. The whole earth was covered in a thick fog and a grey sky, just like the city in the early morning when it''s been rainy. It was not these things though, for the waters were the waters of the netherworld. There was a boat, a large black ark, and it was docked in the harbor. I watched in terror as my son walked onto the barge in chains! I cried as my son boarded the ship! I wailed as the gangplank withdrew! I wept as the ship departed! I lost all hope when the black ship vanished on the horizon! I knew that my boy was lost. I could feel his anguish in the netherworld, never having tasted of any sweetness in life." "I see." Miszatu did not know what to say. The gods were clear. "When did you last see Ningirsu-Ibni?" "He was gone when I woke up early this morning, before Shamash had made his ascent. The last time I saw him was after I had put him to bed." "So he went missing while you slept?" The answer elicited such regret in Adad-Duri''s heart that she buried her face in her hands. "Yes! That''s right!" She cried tearfully into her palms. "Do you have any idea where he might of gone?" "No... he just wasn''t in his bed when I awoke." Miszatu looked around the room. She could not imagine that anything could be concealed from her eyes in such a small space. She looked to the wall opposite the courtyard entrance, and it consisted of another entrance and a shuttered window. "Do you sleep with that window open?" "On hot summer nights like this, yes. I shuttered it just to give myself some privacy." Adad-Duri explained. "Could Ningirsu-Ibni have wandered out into the street?" "I don''t know." shrugged the mother in a flood of tears. Adad-Duri could barely breathe. "He- He- He was always telling me about things he saw. He would always tell stories about how he would meet gods and spirits everywhere we went. Sometimes it would bother me, but it did not ever seem to bring him distress. Yesterday, the way he would normally speak of such, he claimed he met a new friend at the market. I- I- I didn''t think anything of it at all! I... I wasn''t even paying attention!" she declared, tearing off into heavy breathing. "O, awilatiya, I know you are so troubled, but you must rest! You may be jumping to conclusions! If your son is still alive he will need your strength!" Miszatu said to her softly, supporting her shoulder. "You should rest. Would you mind if I take a look around?" Adad-Duri could no longer speak, but she nodded and whimpered her permission. The naditu still could not believe a family was expected to live like this. ''Most slaves live in more healthy and agreeable conditions! Any boy growing here would turn into a hunchback as a man! My supervisor will hear of this!'' Miszatu inspected Ningirsu-Ibni''s toys which lay strewn around the room: a ball, a wooden playing sword, a soldier figurine with a little model chariot and horses to ride. Yet, for all the shoddy carpentry and cheap materials, kindling to be enchanted by a child''s heart, one toy seemed out of place. It was a figurine of a man molded out of clay, but very delicately. The detailed features of the figurine''s soft face were more befitting of a cult statue than a child''s toy. It was not painted, but it wore a miniature set of clothing which was wrapped around it tightly. The color of the outfit which the doll wore was dyed an extraordinary deep crimson, and its material was a smooth clay. Astonishingly the figurine also wore a little crown, a conical seashell smoothed into a helmet. ''Where would Ningirsu-Ibni have found seashells in Kharani?'' she wondered. It was impossible for Miszatu to deny, having attended his court personally, that the figurine was designed in the exact likeness of the regalia of Kharani''s king. In fact, having been in his presence, she knew it was unmistakably a simulacrum of Shakkunakku Nawirnushu himself. Most alarming of all were the sharp copper nails which impaled the doll''s body. "When did you first see this one?" Miszatu asked, raising the doll up to Adad-Duri. "I... I found it this morning among Adad-Duri''s other toys. One of the other boys must have given it to him. The wooden figures all come from the donations of an old client who knew woodwork, but I hadn''t noticed that clay one. Strange since it stands out so much." "Did you notice the nails and needles sticking out of it?" "I thought it was just the aftermath of boys playing war." Miszatu looked over the figurine again silently. It didn''t feel right. "Do you mind if I take this with me? I want to know where your boy got this, if it appeared as he disappeared." "Of course, my lady." whimpered Adad-Duri, again on the verge of another break down. Miszatu softly embraced Adad-Duri by the cheeks to comfort her. She wrapped her arms around her back and squeezed. "My lady, this I shall arrange for you: tomorrow you must come to the royal palace and ask to speak to the king''s baru advisor, Asqudum. Tell him everything that you have told me! He will bring you to identify if the body is that of your son, ay Zumun make it not so! In any case, I would afterward have you take up residence free of rent at the Bit Naditu, whether your boy survives or not, you need to be taken care of in your time of need, ahatiya!" Adad-Duri again choked up. "N- no awilatu has ever been this nice to me." she sobbed. "I- I- I just wish that- -I just wish that it weren''t because I lost my boy." she lamented. She held her tight as she collapsed again, easing and calming her to lie on her bed. "I just want to bury him here. I just want to bring him home." "Just remember what I have said, come to the palace at noon tomorrow!" Miszatu implored. "I will, awilatiya." The mother confirmed, tears flooding from her eyes. "May the lady Nanshe relieve you. May the lady bring Ningirsu-Ibni protection, wherever he is right now." The naditu blessed her. "Thank you so much, sister Miszatu. Take care on the path home." "I will." she promised, as she left the poor mother''s home. As Miszatu began to return to the Bit Naditu, the wind picked up, and she shivered as much at the chilling breeze as the thought that such a vulnerable person''s gods would turn the other way.