The Days of Peleg (70 page)

Only a few seconds had passed since the man had halted his sales pitch. A blind rage overcame Peleg, and he rushed at the man, stopping just before their faces collided, glaring venomously.

“How can you truly believe such excrement?” he hissed. “Do you truly believe that the horizon is a circle around the earth?”

The man peered into Peleg’s eyes with absolutely no reaction, his face locked in a dispassionate stare, refusing to dignify Peleg’s scatological outburst. The silent impasse lasted for several seconds, all the while Peleg’s fury continued to grow. Finally, without taking his eyes off of Peleg, the man gave a barely perceptible shrug of his shoulders as if to say, “What difference does it make?”

Something inside of Peleg snapped and he slapped the armband out of the man’s hand. The man winced and backed up slightly, then bent to retrieve his merchandise. When he straightened, he wore a hurt expression; yet he was not completely cowed.

Before Peleg could do any more damage, Shem intervened.

“May I examine it?” he asked gently.

The man handed it to Shem, greatly preferring the kind and inquisitive Mentor.

Shem looked on the inside of the bracelet and showed it to Peleg.

A small etching identical to the sun symbol of Reu could be seen on the inside rim. Peleg suddenly realized he had seen the same marking drawn in miniature at the bottom of the girl’s star charts.

“You work for Nahor?” asked Shem.

The man had almost recovered and took a breath.

“No,” he said slowly. “I work for myself. Master Nahor provided me with funds so that I could start this business.” He smiled proudly at his cart. “I have easily repaid his investment, and now he earns a small percentage from my tithes.”

“Do you know where we can find him?” asked Shem.

The man shook his head.

“He could be anywhere,” he said. “He always finds me once a month for his tithe.”

He lowered his voice slightly.

“Although Master Nahor is very young, he is also very brilliant. He helped me develop my product line and my business strategy. In fact …” his timbre disappeared to a whisper, “I used to be a simple beggar, but now …” his voice returned to full strength. “I have a home and three wives!”

Suddenly, from nowhere, a sweet melody sounded, and they turned to see Bernifal wandering up to them, playing on a cheap reed flute—the kind that might be used by children for practice. Simultaneously, they all noticed that he was also barefoot.

“How did you acquire that flute?” asked Shem, refusing to acknowledge the bare feet.

“My shoes, I sell for flute,” he answered simply, unaware or uncaring that his fine leather footwear had been easily worth thirty times the value of the simple carved flute. He returned the flute to his lips and began a new song.

Peleg nodded with approval, recognizing the tune from when he lived across from Bernifal.

“I’m glad you found a replacement,” he said, relaxing from his prior confrontations.

The armband salesman noticed Peleg’s return to calm, and with renewed confidence, tried one more time.

“And
you
could experience the same success as I have found,” he said optimistically, trying to develop new momentum. “And my armbands can help! They can focus your creative energies and assist you in developing your
own
product line.”

Peleg spun away in disgust, leaving the man talking to the air. He walked angrily into the city, forcing Shem and Bernifal to follow him.

After traveling a few blocks, the crowd of vendors thinned. Peleg began to realize that these street merchants congregated around the port-gate, apparently to ambush travelers as they entered the city. He thought about the time he had walked through these same gates after his initial meeting with other Great Discovery Masters, prior to their launch.

He wanted to get to the
Citadel
, but he had discarded his earlier plan of losing Shem and making a run for it. He wanted Shem with him, because he might be useful in whatever meeting he had with Inanna. Peleg could present her with a living pre-Calamitite! He would remind her that she had a special interest in such studies, and perhaps it would cull some favor with her.

But he couldn’t just go straight there. The
Citadel
could be seen looming to the north, and Shem would certainly know where Peleg was heading. But these were the streets where he had been raised—and some he had even helped to build. Shem wanted to find more leads to Nahor, so Peleg led them in a casual, back-and-forth route, pretending to help. They looked for Reu’s symbol on doorways and business banners, and (probably because of their attire) they received a good deal of polite assistance. They asked about Nahor from fellow pedestrians, who invariably knew of him, but only offered memories about when they had last seen him, or suggestions on where he might be found. Somehow, however, the resulting information kept them moving in the same general direction—and with a continually growing impression that they were closing in on him.

Finally, a man who was carrying a stack of small writing tablets said he had just seen Nahor leaving a nearby relic shop, and pointed out the directions.

When they arrived, Peleg remembered that, at one time, this had been a store where one could find high-quality astrolabes, compasses, and other measuring and navigation equipment. But it was obvious that such merchandise no longer was available here. Strange words, utilizing characters from multiple languages, were etched or painted haphazardly around the doorway, and paintings of astronomical symbols covered the marble steps leading up to the front.

They entered the shop through thick blue tapestries which draped over the doorway and waited for their eyes to adjust in the dim lighting inside. The thick smell of incense struck their nostrils as they passed into the room. Inside, they found an unbelievable assortment of statuettes, depicting distorted—and sometimes incredulous—animal caricatures, surrounded by symbols representing planets and constellations, and resting on pedestals which displayed interpretations of natural disasters and cosmic forces.

A large ceramic bull, resting on thick black clouds and surrounded by finely crafted lighting bolts, caught Peleg’s eye. Golden horns pointed upward, supporting the lighting with thin metal rods, while inset rubies made the beast’s nostrils glow in the faint ambient light.

Next to the bull was a tall woman with a lovely form which stood out in stark contrast to the surrounding beastly monstrosities. But Peleg was soon disappointed as he noticed the woman was a goat from the waist down—and was giving birth to a boy with a fully bearded eagle’s face.

A large scorpion with its stinger plunged deep into its pedestal—creating a giant fissure—was generating an earthquake. A double-headed lion was devouring a baby
tannyn
. The large head of a snarling
urbarra
was shown emerging from the earth amid bubbling lava and raining fire, and beside it, a warhorse with wings displaying the constellation
Ash-Iku
, was drinking from a pool of blood.

Peleg started to turn away in disgust, but as he did, he noticed a small sculpture of a large tortoise lying on its back with its feet supporting a large mountain. The starry band of
Margidda
was delicately etched along the crest of the mountain, which had a large carved waterfall cascading down the far side and pouring into the turtle’s open mouth. Peleg allowed his anger to be briefly interrupted by the amusing memory of his joke to Serug about “…turtles all the way down”.

As he looked further into the shop, he saw a number of customers who were looking at other merchandise. There were wall hangings, parchments, small items of jewelry, and even some decorated vases and planters. They were all covered with similar themes of wild animals and natural forces—with constellations and planetary symbols featured prominently. A dark doorway in the back led into an even darker hallway.

“Greetings, friends!”

He turned to see a man who could only be the proprietor smiling at him and acknowledging Shem and Bernifal—who seemed to be as dismayed by the store’s offerings as he was. The man appeared to be bald (shaved?) with a small skullcap on his head, and wore huge earrings which seemed to pull painfully at his lobes.

Peleg looked past the man and pointed to the first table of sculptures.

“What
are
those things?” he asked, not bothering to hide his disgust.

“Those are the
Anunnaki
,” he said without turning, all the while maintaining his customer-pleasing smile. “Naturally,” he lowered his voice, “they are, of course, representations. But the same energies of the cosmos which fill all of nature and are exemplified by these creatures are channeled through them—and can be used by
you
for whatever needs or ambitions
you
may have.”

His smile turned to Shem and then to Bernifal who had understood little of his pitch. Despite their stoic response, the shopkeeper’s demeanor never wavered.

Peleg had never heard the word
Anunnaki
, and tried desperately to discern its meaning. The only possibility that occurred to him was that it was a derivation, or diminutive, of Anu—the small, horned demigod whom his son seemed to admire so greatly. Were these figures supposed to be the progeny, or perhaps underlings of Anu? Suddenly he realized the marketing that was taking place. Young Nahor had taken his grandfather’s philosophies and created an endless product line—and market—by ascribing natural forces and cosmic powers to animals, and then saturating a newly gullible populace with promises of success and enlightenment.

This was one of the angriest—and most dismal—days of Peleg’s life. Throughout his entire expedition he had expected the unexpected; but always he had been comforted by the thought of returning home to a stable and sane society. Now his visions of returning to such a place were slowly disappearing as if the colors of a treasured painting were being rinsed away by acid.

All of these thoughts occurred within a few seconds, but before he could respond (angrily) again, Shem spoke.

“We were told that Nahor had passed this way,” he said calmly. “Can you assist us in finding him?”

The man kept smiling without answering for a few seconds, and then naively asked, “Which Nahor might you mean?”

A loud alarm went off in Peleg’s mind. Ever since they had entered the city, everyone had heard of the young entrepreneur and successful franchiser. This shopkeeper’s answer could only mean one thing. He was stalling for time.

Peleg grabbed a small scroll and pointed to the embroidery along the lacing which encircled it.

“The Nahor who sells under this mark,” he said angrily.

“Of course, of course,” the man said, backing up slightly but still smiling. He closed his eyelids repeatedly a few times, and then opened his eyes widely to emphasize his comprehension.

“I’m quite sure he will be arriving here shortly. Please feel free to take your time and look at all we have to offer.” He continued to back up as he smiled, extending his arms to encompass his entire store.

Peleg’s eyes locked on to Shem’s as their thoughts and concerns suddenly had nothing to do with the surrounding merchandise. As they turned slowly towards the exit they discovered that the other customers had aligned themselves into a barrier, preventing their departure.

A breeze of fresh air from the back of the shop cut through the incense, and soon they heard footsteps approaching from the darkened hallway. A handheld
Iku-fish
lamp soon appeared, followed by a well-dressed man and several attendants—armed with spears.

It was Buan.

“I find you at last,” he said, smiling, speaking the local language of Ur with a thick accent. He then switched to Akkadian and spoke to Peleg. “You made it
somewhat
difficult for us when you did not enter through the western gate, but we had alerted all of our merchants to watch for men of your description, and to subtly steer you to this place. It’s amazing what people will do for a temporary reduction in their tithe. The fact that you were searching for Nahor made it all the easier.”

Shem understood none of this, but recognized the name ‘Nahor’.

“Is Nahor here?” he asked loudly.

“No,” said Buan, returning to the local tongue, giving Shem a sneering glare. “He is not even in the city.”

“What do you want with us?” asked Peleg.

But Buan had finished talking. The armed men approached them, spreading into the room. Peleg turned towards the front, only to find that the other “customers” had drawn their own short swords and were ready to use them. Bernifal’s lip quivered slightly and Peleg knew he would happily engage all of them, but a quick look from Shem stopped him.

Buan’s attendants grabbed their arms at the elbows, and quickly pinned them behind their backs. A lanyard was lashed around each elbow and pulled tightly together, forcing their backs to arch painfully. Once secured, they were marched out of the storefront and into the blazing midday sunlight.

As his eyes adjusted, Peleg saw they were heading straight for the
Citadel
. For some unknown reason, as they drew closer, he thought of Thaxad, who had created the sky-blue chalcanthite which plated the entire structure.

When they arrived, Buan walked up the marble steps and right through the entry gates where he approached a guard who was seated behind a large stone desk.

“I believe you have something for me,” Buan said to the guard, without introduction.

The guard looked at Peleg and his companions for a moment, then looked down on a parchment which lay unrolled before him. Peleg thought he recognized the guard from when he was last here, but couldn’t be certain.

Eventually, the guard looked up at Peleg, then back to Buan.

“Yes,” he nodded, “I believe I do.”

With that he reached under the desk and retrieved a small leather satchel which was obviously full and seemed heavier than it ought to for its size. He handed it to Buan.

“It’s all here,” he said. “All thirty
Kaspum
.”