“As your father said, distracting the priests of the god may not be too hard,” Habbazu said. “How, though, how do you propose to distract the god himself?”
“That will not be easy,” Ereshguna said. “You may indeed have to prove how gifted a thief you are.”
“To distract a god from watching over men and the concerns of men,” Sharur said slowly, “it may be best to involve him with gods and the concerns of gods.”
“This Alashkurri cup has involved Engibil with gods and the concerns of gods,” Ereshguna said. “Without it, he would have been a drowsy god. Without it, he would have been a sleepy god. Without it, we could have gone on living our lives as we desired.”
“There are other gods than the great gods of the Alashkurrut, other gods over whose doings Engibil has concerned himself for long and long,” Sharur said. “If he were again to concern himself over their doings ...”
“Enzuabu and Engibil do not squabble over the border between their lands,” Habbazu said. “Zuabu and Gibil have gone on for many years without strife between them.”
“That is so,” Sharur agreed. “But if Engibil were to look to the north and not to the west, what would he see? Engibil and Enimhursag hate each other; Engibil and Enimhursag have long hated each other. In every generation, Gibil and Imhursag go to war against each other—often twice in a generation.”
“In the past three generations, in the time while the lugals have ruled Gibil, we have beaten the Imhursagut in almost all these wars, too,” Ereshguna said. “In the latest one, we beat the Imhursagut so badly, Enimhursag had to humble himself to beg for peace.” He spoke with no small pride.
Habbazu said, “Strange how, though the power of your god in your city is less than it was, the power of your city among its neighbors has grown greater.”
“Men matter, too,” Sharur said: that, if anything, was the motto under which the Giblut had lived since Igigi became the first lugal. Sharur went on, “If Enimhursag were to believe Engibil’s power badly weakened, though; if the god of the Imhursagut were to believe the Giblut divided by factional squabbles ... would he not seek to regain what we have taken from Imhursag over the years? Would he not think he could but stretch forth his hand and what he had lost would be his once more?”
“But what would make him believe such a thing?” Ereshguna asked. “It is not so. If anything, as we have seen, Engibil is more active now than he has been for some time.” “Suppose a Gibli were to flee to the land of Imhursag,” Sharur said. “Suppose a Gibli were to speak these words into Enimhursag’s ear. Suppose a Gibli were to beg Enimhursag to arm the Imhursagut and come down into the land of Gibil and restore order, order that has been lost as water is lost when the bank of a canal breaks.”
“What Gibli would be mad enough to do such a thing?” Ereshguna said.
“I would,” Sharur answered.
Habbazu stared at him. “You would set your city at war with Imhursag. You would set your god at war with Enimhursag?”
“I would,” Sharur said. “If Engibil’s eyes travel north to the border with the land Imhursag rules, how closely will the god watch his temple? How much notice will he take of a certain skulking thief?”
“Ahhh.” Habbazu let out a long breath of praise.
“But, my son, you would not go to speak to another merchant,” Ereshguna said. “You would go to speak to a god. You would go to speak to a god who rules a city in his own right. You would go to speak to a god who can look deep into your heart and learn whether you speak truth. You would go to a god who can punish you terribly when he learns you are speaking lies.”
“I would go to speak to a god who rules a city in his own right,” Sharur said. “I would go to speak to a god whose own people fawn on him. I would go to speak to a god who will very much want to hear the words I speak into his ear. I would go to speak to a god who will very much want to believe the words I speak into his ear. Gods, like men, believe that which they want to believe. If he believes what comes from my mouth, he will not look deep into my heart and learn whether I speak truth.”
Habbazu bowed. “Master merchant’s son, no one will deny you are a man of courage. No one will claim you are a man without bravery.”
“A man should be brave,” Ereshguna said. “A man should not be foolhardy. A man should be wise enough to know the difference between the one and the other.” By the way he looked at Sharur, he did not think his son passed that test. “If you are wrong in this, if Enimhursag goes through your mind like a man going through his belt pouch, all is lost. If you are wrong in this, you are lost.”
“How better to distract Engibil than to embroil him with Enimhursag?” Sharur returned. “And Enimhursag is a foolish god. He is a stupid god. We have seen it in the way the Imhursagut fought the men of our city. We have seen it in the way our caravans constantly outdo those from Imhursag. We have seen it in the way I went into Imhursag and came out safe again. What I have done once, I can do twice.”
“Enimhursag is a foolish god: true,” Ereshguna said. “He is a stupid god: true. But he is a god, and he has the strength of a god. Remember this. You went into Imhursag and came out safe again: true. Enimhursag nearly slew you, though you disguised yourself as a Zuabi merchant. Remember this, too.”
“What’s this? A Gibli pretending to be a man of my city?” Habbazu exclaimed. “I am insulted. Zuabu is insulted.” His eyes sparkled.
Ereshguna ignored him, continuing, “If you go to Enimhursag this time, you will go as a Gibli. If you go to the god of Imhursag this time, you will go as a man of the city he hates. Why should he not slay you out of hand?”
“He will hear me first, Father,” Sharur said. “When has a Gibli ever fled to Imhursag? That alone will make the god of Imhursag curious enough to hear me. When has a Gibli ever begged Imhursag to strike against his own city? That will make the god of Imhursag glad enough to do it without looking too closely at why a Gibli might say such an outlandish thing.”
Slowly, Habbazu said, “Master merchant’s son, though the risk is real, as your father has said, I think your words may hold much wisdom.”
Ereshguna was not yet ready to give up: “Son, would you start a war between Gibil and Imhursag without leave from Kimash the lugal?”
“I would,” Sharur replied without hesitation. “Kimash the lugal has alerted Engibil and his priests against us.”
“You would go to Imhursag, knowing you are now free to wed Ningal?” his father enquired. “You would throw away the chance to do what you have longed to do above all else?”
That was a stronger question than any Ereshguna had yet asked. Now Sharur did hesitate. At last, though, he said, “I would. Engibil tried to disrupt my wedding Ningal over this cup; what other reason could the god have had? Then, again on account of it, he reversed his course. We must have it. I shall return. I shall wed Ningal.”
“I see I cannot dissuade you,” Ereshguna said with a sigh. “You are a man. You have a man’s will. Go on to Imhursag, then, if that is what you reckon you must do. I shall stay behind, and pray all follows as you hope.”
Pray to whom? Sharur wondered. No one in Gibil but Imhursaggi slaves would pray to Enimhursag. Engibil would hope he failed. The great gods of the Alashkurrut would hope he failed. Very likely, the great gods of Kudurru, the gods of sun and moon, sky and storm and underworld, would also hope he failed. That left... no one. Sharur felt very much alone.
“Good fortune go with you,” Habbazu said. Sharur wondered if he meant it. The thief would have done better for himself, would have obeyed the orders of his god, had he never encountered Sharur. Whether they were sincere or not, though, Sharur gladly accepted his wishes for good fortune. He would need as much as he could find.