by Jon Saboe
She looked into his dispassionate eyes, and saw a flicker of fear buried deep within begin to emerge.
She pressed.
“What is happening to you? Can’t you see that you’re not yourself? I don’t understand how you could be so completely drained of life and emotion.”
Salah’s face pursed slightly then contorted as his eyes squeezed shut. Suddenly she was shocked and a little embarrassed as the large black Mentor burst into sobs.
“I don’t know,” he gasped. “They promised to care for me. It’s not supposed to…”
“Who promised?” she demanded. “What, or who, are you talking about?”
“Akkadian… Utu Council … healed me…” he dissolved into more tears and collapsed with his arms around her shoulders—his head resting on her breast.
He tried once more. “I receive historical knowledge and they heal my body. That was the deal. They promised…” He sniffed as his outburst began to subside.
“Who is Dumuzi?” she asked quietly.
There was no answer, just a slight shake of the head.
“I need to know.” Inanna braced herself for her next question. Cautiously, yet with resolve, she asked it.
“May I speak to Dumuzi?”
Salah remained motionless, but his arms moved around to her back and seemed to gain substance as he gave her a firm embrace—the first in many months.
She looked down at him. His face, which had been buried in her bosom, turned up towards hers. His eyes snapped open.
She gasped.
His eyes were burning with a brightness she had never seen before, and his entire countenance had transformed into one of intensity and determination. The tears had mysteriously dried.
She recoiled slightly into the cushions, but his face followed hers and kissed her with a resolve and passion she had never experienced from him or any other man. It was as if she didn’t recognize him—but she hadn’t felt like she knew Salah for quite some time anyway. A combination of fear and desire swept through her, but the concerns of her body outweighed the concerns of her mind.
Maintaining his kiss, he picked her up with his newly strengthened arms and carried her towards the stairs. She considered fighting for a moment, but realized that this unexpected turn had been her subconscious plan from the start, and, just like every other passion in her life, she would not be denied. They ascended.
That evening, Dumuzi of the Utu High Council made up for decades of inattention.
Chapter 19
Bridge
“One ramification of the Great Calamity is that it is impossible to meet someone who is not your relative.”
Peleg was angry. Ever since the young boy’s abrupt departure, he had wanted to pursue him with a team of men and discover what he could about these people and how they got here. Captain Phaxâd had dismissed this, saying that there was no commercial value in communicating with a rogue bunch of hunter-gatherer riff-raff.
“So they make whistles that no one can hear,” Phaxâd explained. “And maybe they have superior abilities in tracking animals by smell. But there is no indication of any real civilization that we can make trade agreements with—unless you think there is a market for porcelain puppies.”
Phaxâd was not usually this sarcastic. However, he was still smarting from his men being surrounded by the boy’s wolf-circle, and resented anything that threatened those in his care—especially when he had been unable to prevent it. Imagine, a boy holding his men hostage! Also, it didn’t help that his wife had been uncharacteristically annoyed by the whole affair.
He held up a hand, preventing Peleg from responding.
“Even if there are great mineral deposits, or the potential for mining in the area, we will have to leave that to future expeditions. Our job is to create charts and make the way safe for those who will come behind us.”
Peleg saw an opening.
“I just want to find out a little more about their language, that’s all. I’m sure that will be of use to future travelers.”
“Chief Cartographer Peleg,” Phaxâd said, drawing himself up indicating he was now speaking as Captain of the Urbat. “Your job is to chart. You have also inherited the bulk of navigation. Your only other task is to communicate with those to whom I wish to communicate. Is that clear?” He looked up into Peleg’s face, bearing the relaxed countenance of one who is in charge, yet has nothing to prove.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Thank you.” Captain Phaxâd nodded. “We will now begin reloading our supplies and prepare to set sail.” He looked around and loudly addressed the rest of the men. “We leave in three hours! Let’s get all of our equipment together!”
The men hurried to put out their fires and roll up their sleeping equipment.
He looked back at Peleg.
“I’m just excited about reaching the equator. Seems like an important leg of our mission.” He gave him an encouraging grin, then left.
Phaxâd returned to his tent where Utebbibassu was just finishing her hair.
“I left all of my combs on the ship,” she said as he entered the flap. It wasn’t a complaint, just an observation.
She continued.
“Don’t get me wrong, dear. This little camp outing was fun—wolves and everything. It’s just that I’ll be glad to get back to our quarters.” Although she had lived in those quarters now for over five years, she still enjoyed the magnificent teak and cedar furnishings with the gold trim. And, of course, her diaries and resource scrolls were all within reach. Her journal would definitely be a best seller.
“Don’t worry, ‘Bassu. We’ll be back on the sea before nightfall.”
She tipped her head up to give him a kiss. “You still know how to show a girl a good time.”
Serug and three friends had wandered off into the forest toward the south, along the eastern edge of the cove, shortly after the boy had left. It was now two hours after Captain Phaxâd had ordered the resumption of their expedition, and they still had not returned.
Peleg was just finishing some calculations, since this morning had been a special one with both the sun and moon in the sky. He was just starting to become concerned, when he heard Serug’s voice leading the others as they emerged from the undergrowth.
“We’ll be eating fine tonight, men!”
Peleg looked up and saw the four men carrying a large animal which was hanging from large support sticks. Its legs were tied together, and it was obviously freshly slain.
“Serug!” called Peleg as he went towards them. “We have to be back on the ship in less than an hour!” He looked at their catch.
“A Lulim?” he asked, noticing that this animal seemed to resemble the red deer which lived in the eastern mountains back home.
“Nope,” said Serug as the men lowered their prize to the ground. “It’s a rare kind of boar, a special treat found in the far eastern coastlines of Kèdem. It’s called a Šenbar.”
He grinned at Peleg.
“You really should brush up on your culinary knowledge.”
He looked back at the boar with a slightly puzzled look. “I wonder how these things got way over here?”
Just then three men emerged from the forest to the north following the boy that had left earlier. They took a few steps onto the beach, and then stopped. Although their arrival was startling, Peleg was more astounded by the fact that they all looked alike—just like the young boy that had run away earlier—only older.
Back home, in a random collection of people, he was used to seeing assortments of all possible hair and eye colors, skin shades, and varieties of facial and muscle features. Even siblings, although they obviously shared features from their parents, often had differing eye, hair, and skin coloring. This group all shared the same dark reddish-tan skin color, black hair, strong nose, and intense eyes.
Peleg called out for Captain Phaxâd who rushed out of his tent and joined Peleg. Together they approached the four visitors.
“Peleg,” Phaxâd began.
“Learn what you can in the next hour.”
“Captain,” Peleg protested. “That’s not enough time. Besides, Serug has just caught a wild boar, and they need to dress it before they can prepare it.”
Phaxâd thought for a moment.
“All right. I will instruct them to prepare their Šenbar—but prepare it for storage, not dinner. And you have until sundown to speak with these men. We will sleep onboard tonight and set sail first thing in the morning. Clear?”
Peleg agreed, reluctantly. “I’ll see what these men want.”
He walked over to the new arrivals with his hands outstretched. As he neared them, he realized that there were minor differences in their appearance, and in fact had strong individual characteristics. From a distance their similarities had been striking, and even now it still seemed very strange for a group of men to look so much alike.
The men of the Urbat continued their cleanup, and began moving supplies to the ship. Captain Phaxâd kept a watchful eye on Peleg and his new contacts.
Inmaquo surveyed the strangers who seemed intent on leaving as quickly as possible. He had silenced his young stepson who had excitedly pointed to the dark man whom he had met earlier. This same man now approached, and it appeared he had been given the task of communication.
“I don’t see the tall, pasty one,” said Tañqin. “He’s the one who could hear my whistle.”
“Silence,” whispered Inmaquo. “We must see what this one intends.”
The stranger now stood in front of them with his hands outstretched, as if he were planning on strangling them. But his face seemed kind, and his bright indigo eyes showed an alertness which the young Tañqin must have missed.
He pointed to himself and said, slowly, “Bay-lik”, which apparently was his name. He motioned for them to be seated near the sand sketches that Tañqin had begun earlier that day, and the five sat down and began a formal first contact on this beach which was new territory for all of them.
Inmaquo recited his name. He named the other two men, Panqal and Valchoa, followed by his stepson.
Upon hearing his name, Tañqin said, “Clan-guide Inmaquo. You can see where I started drawing a rough map of our journeys in the sand here.” He then pointed to the portion which the one called ‘Bay-lik’ had drawn. “See here, where he claims to come from the House of the Sun—and lands west of where Mèsha was first declared?”
Inmaquo looked towards the outline. The journeys of his clan, and those before him, were encoded on the leather scroll which was in the container strapped to his shoulder harness. After the days when the ground and skies opened and their world was buried by water, those who survived lived in great fear as they began to build a new city. Most believed there was great safety in their new buildings, but their Founder, Chaq-ťan, warned of a great curse. Should any similar disasters occur, their new city could be destroyed in an instant, and all would be lost.
Chaq-ťan of Eber had fled the rebuilding with his children and their families, proclaiming Mèsha, a multi-generational undertaking of human and global survival. The fear of adventuring into the unknown was great, but the fear of remaining—and encountering the impending curse—was far greater. There was no higher priority than this obligation to the future of humanity. Thirteen families and their servants fled the city and began a mission to cover the earth. Eventually, four of these families joined together and formed the clan system which Inmaquo (and soon Tañqin) now continued. They had traveled the coastlines, following game, and splitting into new clans as their offspring became ready. Should a new calamity befall humanity, the odds of human survival were greatly increased as the clans extended further and further across the face of the earth.
Now Inmaquo found himself seated across from a man who must be a descendant of the city dwellers—one who had survived the curse they had fled. But they obviously had not survived unscathed. Their inability to speak, and clash of chaotic skin colors and other features indicated massive mutations in their past.
However, they did seem to have overcome their fears and begin adventuring into the world. There must be a privileged class who had great knowledge of ship building, for Inmaquo had never imagined a vessel such as this.
He turned to his partners.
“Please leave us, for a moment. I must speak with this Bay-lek alone.”
He was met with stunned silence. Finally, Valchoa protested.
“Clan-guide. Surely you need our help with communication.” He pulled himself up from the ground. “After all, I’m the best artist in the clan.”
“Father, I met him first,” Tañqin interrupted. “I know I can help.” No one was more stunned by his impulsive familiarity than Tañqin himself.
His stepfather glared at him, and the three slowly arose and left the area.
Inmaquo looked into Bay-lek’s eyes. He had decided to honor the spokesman for this strange crew as a fellow clan-guide.
Peleg was becoming flustered as he saw his limited communication time dwindle away. They had managed to exchange names, and then after a brief conversation amongst themselves, the leader, whose name had sounded (to Peleg) like Inim-ku, (which meant ‘One who curses’ in Peleg’s tongue), had looked thoughtfully at his sand drawing, and then sent the others away.
The leader of this small band of hunters was now seated across from him, looking intently into his eyes. Without breaking focus, he reached under his arm and brought out a long, cylindrical wood-bark canister. He pressed it to his lips, and then held it out to Peleg, indicating that Peleg should place his hand on it, which he did.
The leader sang a short song, then looked up to the sky. He then opened the canister by removing a lid, and took out a scroll made of deerskin.
He placed it in front of Peleg and slowly began to unroll it.
Peleg was surprised to see what appeared to be a mosaic painting, rather than words. There was a triangular-motif background, with vibrant, multi-colored designs scattered across the leather. He noticed that a large section was blank, and that this must be a work in progress.
An asymmetrical, meandering line traveled in a slight curve, bisecting the other designs. Upon closer inspection, he saw that the “line” was comprised of small circles with small spaces in between, and he noticed that small triangles were scattered randomly along this line.
Inmaquo touched his arm lightly, and pointed to the end of this line, in the bottom, right-hand portion of the scroll. He then pointed out towards the beach where the young boy had begun his sketch that morning. He pointed back to the line in the scroll, then opened his arms wide, turning at the waist, indicating the cove where the Urbat was anchored.
Slowly realization began to dawn on Peleg. This was a map, and the cove, and rough outlines of the coasts to the north were shown by this line.
Inmaquo pointed to himself, then pointed in the direction of the three others who had left (but were certainly nearby). He included them with a clasp of his hand, then pointed to the last small triangle near the end of the line.
Peleg realized that the triangle must indicate a small community or a collection of families. He began to trace the line further up (northward) along the scroll until he reached another triangle. Here there were two triangles, close together, apparently indicating a second family, or perhaps one that had split off to go their own way.
As he continued following the line, he became aware that he was traveling backwards in time. It was a generational history of their travels. There were more triangles as he reached the top of the animal hide, and then the line began to curve sideways (eastward). The line then dipped downward, and Peleg began to realize why the boy had left in such an excited state. The line appeared to outline (in a very general sense) the coast of the Eastern Continent—which had surely (by now) been mapped by the Kibrat Erbettim.
He looked up sharply, startling his companion. Inmaquo tensed, but when he saw the faraway look in Peleg’s eyes, he relaxed.
Peleg thought about Captain Phaxâd’s comment conc
erning wild animals. They could have walked! There must be a land connection at the top of the world, and the continent which they were exploring now was directly connected to the one of his homeland.
A chill went through him as he suddenly realized that the Kibrat Erbettim—assuming they had made it across the Northern solstice and down to the equator—would never make it home. For a moment he worried about a similar possibility for the Urbat’s return to the south, but he remembered the map that Kupé had given him. It indicated that there was a southern route around this land.
The leader of these migratory people touched his arm and broke him out of his reverie. Peleg looked at him, and Inmaquo quickly drew a circle in the sand with short arcs emanating from it. He pointed to the sun to indicate that he had just sketched its symbol. He then made some smaller circles around it, and then proceeded to damage portions of them until Peleg realized he was portraying phases of the moon.
Once Inmaquo was convinced that Peleg understood, he pointed to the image which represented the full moon, then pointed to one of the circles that comprised the line of their travels. The meaning was clear: Each small circle represented a month of travel!
Peleg’s jaw dropped. There must be more than one thousand circles in this path! He quickly counted in groups of sixty. Yes, there were twenty-four groups with fifty-five circles remaining. He divided the total by thirteen and was stunned to see that, if this chronicle were accurate, it placed the beginning of their journey at just under five years before the Great Awakening!
But this line started east of his homeland—and far to the east of the great city with the Platform of Heaven and Earth where all humanity had lived—at least before its destruction. This meant that a small band of adventurers had traveled towards the lands of Indus before the Great Awakening!
A quick, yellow motion flashed in his peripheral vision, and he saw Serug bounding towards him. With a panicked start, the tan leader of these four migratory hunters snatched the skin scroll and had it rolled up and inserted into its container before the impulsive intruder could see its secrets.
