The Days of Peleg

by Jon Saboe

  They gently pushed aside some sheep that had wandered across their path. Flocks grazed in fields that Uruk leased in exchange for a percentage of wool and mutton.

  “The last I heard anything was many years after the Great Confusion,” said Shem. “The nine families feared another great flood, even though the Creator had promised to never again cover the entire world. They built a large barge for their families and livestock, and headed out across the eastern waters to find a new land to build their cities.”

  Peleg nodded.

  “I see,” he said. “Manco Chavin said there had been thirteen, but that only nine made the voyage. He himself was a replacement to maintain the Inner Thirteen.”

  He paused to knit his thoughts together. The men who had tried to drown them in the Acapana had been his own nephews! He suddenly made the connection. Manco Chavin had said the Inner Nine’s father—and founder—had been D’Jaqtan! That was a detail he had never mentioned to Shem, but it was too close to be a coincidence. Their Founder must have been his own brother, Joktan!

  But he now had to deal with a much more troubling thought. This meant that a great deal of the information Shem had told concerning Eber and other details of his history must also be true. And as this greatly increased Shem’s credibility, it was becoming less easy to dismiss him as a crazy person.

  The pedestrian traffic became more compressed as merchants and craftsmen began to funnel in and out of the Northwest Gate. The number of people around them continued to grow, and Peleg suddenly realized that this was more people than he had seen in one place in over thirteen years.

  Strange thoughts occurred to him as he watched other travelers and tradesmen. Since his discussions about decision-making, he had never been able to look at people the same way. A small girl kicked a stone across the path and Peleg thought, She just exercised her free-volition and changed the future of that stone forever and permanently altered the outcome of the universe. He shook his head, somewhat worried about himself. But he had to admit that the stone would have never moved except by some natural cause-and-effect—and no causality had forced the girl’s decision.

  They approached the city where pottery stands and small shopping kiosks pressed against the city wall. Horse-dealers from Kemet, textile merchants from Indus, and vendors from a variety of regions conducted business. But the more expensive and exotic commodities were to be found within the city walls.

  The crowd was now pressing from every side, and they found themselves carried along as they were compressed and funneled through the gate. The gate officers watched from small stands, supposedly watching for petty crimes and looking for items that needed to be taxed. Soon they were ejected out on the other side, and the three men found themselves on the wide, yet busy streets of Uruk. Peleg felt a wave of relief come over him. He was home! Of course, this wasn’t truly his home, but at least it was a known city, and he had actually visited it twice, many years earlier.

  Just as Ur had been founded as a place to further Knowledge and learning, so Uruk made no apologies for focusing its energies on Commerce and Trade. Although it had been founded just a few years after Ur, and covered roughly the same area, it boasted a population nearly double that of Ur, and maintained a much more frantic air and pace as it pursued what the inhabitants considered the most noble aspiration of all. Wealth!

  During the past three days Bernifal had been unable to hunt, since any game he caught would probably belong to one of the many families or camps which leased space from the city. They certainly didn’t want their re-introduction to society to come from a poaching indictment!

  As a result they had eaten nothing but wild-grains and whatever rations they carried during those three days, so when Peleg saw an eating establishment, he reached for Shem and Bernifal and pulled them inside.

  Old habits took over, and Peleg moved to seat himself at a table near the door. But before Shem and Bernifal could join him, a man moved to intercept them and addressed Peleg.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” he began, “but I’m not sure if this is the best place for you and your …”

  He paused, looking at Shem and Bernifal with disgust.

  “…friends,” he finished.

  Peleg glanced down at their clothing, and suddenly realized how filthy they were. He was still wearing the pleated leather skirt uniform which he had replaced almost three years ago and was thin and flaking. He looked up and winced when he viewed his companions through “city-eyes”. Bernifal was wearing his one-piece, single-shoulder fur outfit, and Peleg suddenly realized how strange Shem’s tan leather trousers and jacket must appear here. Add three months of accumulated dirt (and smell), and Peleg realized that, if he were the proprietor, he would probably throw them out immediately.

  Peleg looked up at the man, obviously the proprietor.

  “I’m very sorry, sir, for our appearance,” he said, switching to the language of Uruk—something he had not spoken since his last visit here. “We have traveled a great distance, and are very hungry…”

  The man interrupted him.

  “And you have money, I suppose?” he said sarcastically (managing to mock Peleg’s accent) as he scrutinized their attire.

  Peleg looked up at Shem for help, realizing too late that this was an unknown language for him. Shem was watching with a look of total confusion—the first time Peleg had ever witnessed this.

  “We need some money,” he said to Shem in his own language, “or something with which to buy food.”

  Shem paused for a moment, and then with a look of sad resignation, withdrew his leather satchel of prized stones. He reached in and selected a few which he showed to the man.

  The proprietor looked up into Shem’s eyes and glared. At first it appeared he was going to slap the pebbles out of Shem’s hand, but instead he whirled back to Peleg and reached for him, pulling him up out of his seat.

  “Take your filthy bartering outside,” he yelled. “And I mean outside of the city! We only accept real money, here.”

  He began pushing all three towards the door.

  “Go outside and buy a goat with your pretty rocks,” he taunted as he maneuvered them. While pressing, he inadvertently placed his hand on Bernifal’s shoulder, and Peleg froze as he watched Bernifal flinch. A quick glance from Shem told Bernifal to meekly refrain, and soon the three men were back on the street again.

  “And get some decent clothes!” he shouted after them as they began moving further into the city—further infuriating him.

  People from the country should stay in the country, the proprietor thought as he turned back into his business. Filthy, uncultured, riffraff! The city was crowded enough without idiots from the countryside wandering into the elite business world within.

  Buan had watched the three out-of-place men enter the establishment. The tall one was a Mentor, but he wore the strangest leggings he had ever seen. He was accompanied by an obvious uncultured wearing nothing but a crude animal fur. Probably lived in a tree, Buan thought. The third man led them with an air of confidence that the others did not share, and rudely seated himself as the proprietor moved to intercept the disheveled trio.

  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 th
e 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.