The Days of Peleg (61 page)

Buan had just finished his meal of mutton and leeks with wheat pudding, and reached for his corn-ale without taking his eyes off of the newcomers. The proprietor patiently challenged the men (in much the same manner he had been challenged, Buan noted), and he listened as the seated man responded. The accent seemed to be that of someone who was raised in Ur.

Buan continued to sip absent-mindedly at his ale chalice until he suddenly realized it had been empty for quite some time. Refills should be automatic in a place like this, he thought with irritation. Other patrons were now watching, and tension was beginning to build as they all waited for the inevitable removal of the three outsiders.

The seated man made a hurried, whispered plea to the confused Mentor, who tried to offer some indiscernible trinkets as payment. At this the proprietor finally lost patience.

He grabbed the seated man by the arm and wrenched him from his chair, pushing into the other two, and propelling them towards the doorway.

Muted cheers could be heard from the other patrons and they expelled their relief, but Buan noticed something else that brought his chalice down from his lips. The man who had been sitting appeared to be wearing an old leather uniform, much like a seafarer would wear. Although it was very worn and tattered, he could make out some of the grommet work, which seemed to be of very high quality. Why would someone in old seaman’s garb be in this region?

As the man turned to face the proprietor for one last plea before he was maneuvered outside, Buan got one final look at his face.

There was something about that face! Buan twisted the features around in his mind, trying to conjure up a memory. It reminded him of someone—but he could think of no one.

The three were now gone, but Buan’s thoughts were churning furiously.

It couldn’t be!

An impossible name came to mind, but before he dismissed it, he considered ways to make it feasible. He had never
seen
that man, but
this
man reminded him of someone he
did
know.

He tossed a couple of coins on the table as a tip and pushed past the proprietor who was now making the rounds to check on other customers.

“Are you sure you’ve had enough?” he asked Buan, hoping for additional items to place on the tab.

Buan pushed past him without speaking and rushed out into the street. Looking in all directions, he finally spotted the trio rounding a corner, heading in the direction of the Ziggurat.

He rushed after them, all the while thinking how implausible his hunch was; and about how embarrassed he would be if he were wrong.

But there just might be some good money in it for him if he was right.

A slight panic began to rise in Peleg as he became overwhelmed by the crowd. He had never been surrounded by so many people, and the fact that he had spent the last thirteen years in near solitude—not to mention periods of enforced isolation—made the pressure all the more difficult to tolerate.

Everywhere he looked, people were appearing from behind corners, rushing in long lines to make appointments, or simply pushing with the wealthy self-important air of someone who cannot be slowed by others.

Peleg pointed to the ziggurat in the distance, indicating their destination to Shem and Bernifal. He caught himself mentally referring to it as a Citadel, but quickly corrected himself.
This
ziggurat was a standard seven-story structure which housed city government, records, and a small library. He hoped there would be information that could help them find his son, Reu. Or even better, someone who could send news ahead of him to Ur, on the chance he left Shem and headed back home on his own.

The crowds continued to press, threatening to take the three men with them in their various currents. Peleg looked at Bernifal who appeared to be in complete shock. He realized that this small fighter had probably never been to a city, and probably preferred the isolated, claustrophobic blackness of his home. In fact, Bernifal probably had never imagined that this many people even existed! Strangely, Shem seemed comfortable with the crowds, and Peleg wondered if he had ever experienced similar populations before the Great Calamity.

The street turned slightly to the right, and Peleg could now see the top four stories of the ziggurat. He noticed, with surprise, that a new structure was being constructed on the top: a foundation of white pillars was almost complete, and he could see workmen raising the final supports for what could only be some kind of marble or alabaster awning. As they approached, however, his view became eclipsed as the ziggurat wall rose in front of him.

The crowd thickened, and Peleg’s strange thoughts returned. He felt constricted, surrounded by ‘decision-makers’. People pushing, shouting, and otherwise making
their
marks on the future. He suddenly felt more alone than he had ever felt before, as he considered the probability that no one else around him was thinking the same thoughts. After years of isolation and solitude, it amazed him that he would now suddenly feel lonely and vulnerable while surrounded by more people than he had ever seen before in one place.

A voice suddenly separated itself from the surrounding clamor as Peleg heard someone speaking loudly in his home language. The unexpected phonetics pulled Peleg from his thoughts.

“Hello! Good Day! Excuse me! Hello!”

Peleg quickly turned to find the repeating voice behind them. Shem and Bernifal bumped into him because of his unexpected stop—the voice and accent had meant nothing to them. He peered past them and saw a bearded man with a fair complexion shouting after them. He was wearing a fine burgundy and gold robe with large sleeves that twisted around his arms as he pressed through the crowd.

When the man realized he had Peleg’s attention, he smiled and waved, indicating they should wait for him.

Shem and Bernifal turned with Peleg and braced against the crowd until the man reached them. When he arrived, the man pointed to the side of the street and breathlessly nodded his thanks.

“Please to talk, thank you,” he said, as Peleg realized the man knew very little of his language. “Must speak question, thank you.” He repeated similar simple phrases as they headed out of the traffic.

They approached some marble benches near a realty office on the side of the street. Peleg spoke to the man in the language of Uruk

“Yes Sir,” he began politely. “What can we do for you?”

The man was pleased at the change to his primary tongue.

“Thank you so much for stopping for me,” he said. “I overheard your accent back where I was eating, and hoped you would hear my words above the noise of the city.”

Peleg nodded as he and the Urukite sat on the bench. Shem and Bernifal stood uncomprehendingly beside them.

“My name is Barsalnunna Buan Damikilishu,” he began, “and I couldn’t help but notice your strange manner and dress.”

“We are glad to make your acquaintance,” Peleg responded formally, embarrassed by their attire.

The man nodded and continued.

“I was about to dismiss you three as merely ‘outsiders’ but then I noticed
your
garment.”

He pointed to Peleg’s shabby seaman’s outfit, then continued without waiting for a response.

“Is that a seafarer’s uniform?” he asked, expectantly.

Peleg nodded as the man’s eyes became excited.

“Is it possible that you were among the expedition known as the Great Discovery from Ur?”

Peleg nodded again, suddenly becoming almost as excited as this man. He had hoped to somehow make contact with someone who could get a message to the
Citadel
and announce his arrival. For a brief moment, glimpses of fame and wealth flickered through his mind.

The man’s excitement was constrained slightly as he seemed afraid to ask his next question, but eventually it came out.

“Are you, by any chance, the man known as Peleg the Surveyor?”

“Yes!” Peleg exclaimed before the question was finished. “I am Peleg, Chief Cartographer of the
Urbat
!”

“I thought so,” he said as a relieved smile spread over his face.

“But how could you ascertain my identity, Barsalnunna?” asked Peleg. “There were hundreds who went on that mission.”

“Please call me Buan.”

Peleg nodded.

“Of course, Buan.”

“My master will most certainly want to meet you and your companions,” said Buan, sidestepping Peleg’s question.

Peleg’s eyes closed slightly in confusion.

“Why is that?” he asked.

“Because I am employed by Reu of Ur, and from your features I believe you to be his father.”

Peleg was dumbfounded, and looked at Shem.

“This man says he works for my son, Reu, and wants to take us to him,” he said.

Shem, who had understood none of their exchange, suddenly smiled.

“The
Creator
has brought us together,” he said, eyes gleaming.

Peleg glared slightly and turned back to Buan.

Buan had removed his signet ring and was showing it to Peleg. Peleg recognized the markings for ‘Reu’ and ‘Exchange’ inside of a spiked circle that could only be symbolic of the sun. Apparently Reu had become quite successful here.

Peleg had no innate ‘fatherly’ reaction at the prospect of seeing his son. The
Citadel
was
his
family, and although he had been saddened when Reu was not accepted, he had always hoped Reu would do well. The pursuit of financial success was not nearly as enlightened as
Knowledge
, but he certainly didn’t begrudge anyone the fruits of one’s labor.

Buan was returning his ring to his finger.

“Master Reu has his primary office near his home in the far Northeast sector of the city. We can be there in just a little over half an hour if we leave now.”

Peleg relayed this to his companions, and nodded to Buan.

“Naturally we can provide you with food and lodging,” said Buan, and with a glance down at their attire he added, “and perhaps more appropriate clothing.”

The sign was engraved into the alabaster stone high above the massive doorframe in four languages that Peleg knew, plus a fifth which was comprised of a strange mix of characters from the other four, but that Peleg had never seen before. It read:

Uruk Exchange and Commodity Investing

Buan asked them to remain outside, then pushed open the doors and entered the building. A few moments later he emerged with a wave and a self-conscious laugh.

“I’m afraid we shall have to enter from the side,” he said.

He led them several paces to a small alley into which they turned and walked about forty meters. On the left was a small wooden door which Buan slid aside. He led them into a small anteroom and up a narrow flight of steps carved into the stonework along the left wall. At the top of the steps was a landing and a low arched doorway to the left leading into a long hallway.

They proceeded down the hallway until Buan arrived at a large wooden double-door on the right. He pushed firmly on the doors and they swung open, revealing a large room, brilliantly lit by a huge opening to the sky which crossed the ceiling at a slight angle.

Peleg and Bernifal both gasped as they surveyed the room. Other than the Hall of Spheres back at the
Citadel
, Peleg had never seen such a large, enclosed area. And he had never seen anything decorated in such a lavish manner—especially in a building that was privately owned.

Lavish reclining divans for feasting lined the walls, along with several plush chairs. Large exotic plants hung from jeweled alabaster carvings which jutted out from the edges of the ceiling. They flowed like blossoming tapestries, outlining doorways which exited the room on both the left and right sides. On the far wall was a huge mosaic rendered in brightly colored semi-precious stones depicting the slaying of a large
ušemšutum
by someone who was obviously a great military leader. The huge animal walked only on its hind legs, since its front legs were too tiny to be of any use. One of these small legs was missing, and blood poured from the open wound in a splash of inlaid, crushed rubies.

But it was the huge eight-sided fountain in the center of the room that demanded their full attention. Arches of water shot from each corner into the center where they crashed together and fell into the waiting pool. Each spout emanated from a small carving of a demigoddess who carried an urn under her arms. Although the water rose upward out of the urns, the descending spray actually created an illusion of water pouring
into
their miniature vessels.

Peleg knew the story behind these mystical ladies. Each one represented a spirit who inhabited magical healing plants for different parts of the body, and according to the story, they were created in a garden created by Ninhursag, and anyone finding this garden and partaking from all eight of the plants would be free from all injury and malady and live forever.

Shem and Bernifal joined him in slowly circling the great fountain. As they walked, Peleg was suddenly startled as Shem began to laugh softly and shake his head.

Peleg glanced up at the large mosaic and noticed that the military man slaying the
ušemšutum
had numerous injuries, but that small images of the same mystical ladies could be seen ministering to his various wounds. Peleg was also familiar with this story, but was amused that the face of this great warrior had been replaced with the image of Enmerkar, the current ruler of Uruk and High Minister of Finance.

Buan spoke abruptly, and all three were suddenly aware of their grime and filth in stark contrast to the opulence in front of them.

“You will find baths and perfume rooms through those doorways,” he said to Peleg, “and I will send for food and clothing immediately.”

He nodded and pointed towards the doorways on either side of the room.

“Master Reu will want to speak with you as soon as he is available,” he added. “Be sure and make yourselves comfortable. It may be some time before he arrives.”