It was three days to Sherguz, the first town of any significance north of Ianna-Ir. So long as there was no news from someone on shore before then, I had that long to make a plan. I would watch for times when the crew might be distracted or asleep, and if an opportunity arose, I would decide whether or not to take the little boat. It would be risky to climb over the side of the Anet’s Dream, but if I wanted to live, I might have to, and I very much wanted to live.

I’d been gone some time from the cabin. It wouldn’t do to anger the Attolian, so I returned to see if he wanted anything.

The cabin was narrow, only about twice the width of the Attolian’s bunk. Entered from the center of the boat, it stretched almost to the outer rail with only a narrow strip of deck to allow the sailors to pass by. The outer wall was mostly open to admit light and air. Across the opening were the table and stools where the Attolian sat looking at the water.

“Did you need me, master?” I asked.

He smiled and shook his head, offered me the other seat with a gracious wave that the rickety cane-seated excuse for a stool didn’t deserve. I gingerly sat. The riverbank slid by. We said nothing. I was both anxious and bored, but the Attolian seemed neither. I am used to hiding my feelings, and I sat with my hands folded in my lap. In time, the captain decided we had made enough progress and the ship anchored in mid-river. The ship’s boy came around with water and fruit.

In response to no stimulus that I could see, the Attolian said, “You needn’t stay cooped up with me,” and I gratefully abandoned him to stretch my legs again on deck.

I came back after what I guessed was a respectful time, and as I sat, he asked about the play we had seen the day before.

“The bigger man was king? And all of those people were coming to him to say that something bad had happened?” He had followed most of the story, but not all of it.

“Yes. Immakuk was the king of Ianna-Ir. When the spring floods came and didn’t recede, the people were suffering. They thought the king was too old to help them. They all say his hero days are past. His friend Ennikar convinces him that he is not too old and that he should try to save his city. So, together they steal the chariot of the sun god, Anet, and fly off to shut the gates of heaven and stop the floodwaters from drowning Ianna-Ir.”

“That yellow thing was supposed to be a chariot?” the Attolian asked.

“It was not a very good production.”

“I see.”

“Immakuk and Ennikar are never seen again, but the floods recede and are never again so severe, so they must still be working the gates of heaven and protecting the city.”

“I’ve never heard of Immakuk and Ennikar,” he said, and I wasn’t surprised. The Attolians are for the most part uneducated.

“I could tell you more about them if you like. There is a translation of the first tablet into Attolian.”

“Thank you,” he said. “I’d like that.”

It was my own translation, but I didn’t tell him. He might have thought I was bragging, and he would have been right. I tapped my hand to my lower lip, bidding the gods to speak through me, and I began.

Greatly wise cloaked in wisdom was Immakuk

greatly strong clothed in strength was his true friend

Ennikar

great was their love and greatly did it sustain them in

their journeys together

greatly did Immakuk rule with his friend

when he came home to Ianna-Ir

Before their journeys began was Immakuk prince and keeper

of the water gates in the temple of Nuri

bound to open the gates to allow the god to enter with

the water

to fill the reservoirs and bring life to the city

Immakuk

bound but not bound well

bound but not committed

bound but not performing

the gates not open the water wasted the god offended

Immakuk left the city in shame

in shame sent out to wander the world

to learn the ways of welcome and unwelcome

Immakuk went into the world and learned about gates closed

against him and gates opened

Learned about blessings

accepted and blessings deserved

Wandered lonely

until Shesmegah took pity turned Immakuk’s path

turned it to Ennikar

led him to Ennikar

Strong Ennikar

great in strength greatly admired

in the city from whence he came

bound to attend the gates of Nuri

but not attending attending instead

a pretty maid

left the gates open let the blessings of the god

flow out of the temple flow into the world

uncontained

Wasted said the priests

Left his city in shame

sent by the priests out to wander

to learn waste not and want not

In the world Ennikar learned about blessings

denied and blessings shared

Met the witch of Urkull met the daughter of Ninur

stayed with her until his path led him on

Followed the herds of the god Prokip and helped

himself at the honeyed hives of Cassa

Fled angry Cassa and met Immakuk

who had wandered

met and shared his takings from the hives

Asked Ennikar of Immakuk what have you learned?

Learned about welcome and unwelcome said Immakuk

Wise Immakuk asked Proud Ennikar what he had learned

Learned I like to wander said Ennikar

“Bit of a freethinker, Ennikar,” said the Attolian. I smiled, but kept going, pleased I had conveyed Ennikar’s untamed nature.

Wander with me then friend Immakuk of

friend Ennikar asked together they went

seeking the day of their return to Immakuk’s city

where in his Wise Years

he would build the stalls of animals

found streets and houses and cities

where he would build the great temple of Nuri

invite the god in

Immakuk ruled with his friend Ennikar at his side

saw the walls of the city built by the gods

many chariots wide the walls

topped in copper strong in glass-faced stone

unbreakable walls to make the city strong

keep its blessings in

its gates open

to send the blessings flowing out

into the world

The Attolian thanked me politely when I was done and asked about some of the words he didn’t understand. Then he asked, “Yesterday, who were the others? With the, you know . . .” He gestured to indicate the outsize accoutrements of Senabid and his master.

“Oh,” I said, ducking my head, “they aren’t part of the story. That’s Senabid, the slave. It’s a sort of a—crowd-pleaser, a chance to laugh as a slave outwits his master.” I hated the Senabid skits, though. I knew other slaves who found them funny, but I thought they were stupid, as if any man would let his slave get away with that kind of trickery. I could only imagine what my master would have done with Senabid, and the thought made me sick. I couldn’t be amused.

“I see,” said the Attolian, nodding. “We have something similar in our theater. Only not a slave, just a lazy workman.” He fell silent again, staring out over the river. By this time I was fairly sure I had his measure, and as the churning sense of terror and dislocation faded, my sense of superiority was slowly reasserting itself.

The breeze held, and we continued upriver all day. The crew took turns resting in the shade under the low awnings. In the evening we stopped to unload a single cookstove at a tiny dock. I went to lurk near the captain and his men as they worked—to catch any hint of a rumor about my master’s death—but there was none. It seemed the news was still too fresh to have traveled north from the city.