That had worked for a few months, but too many soldiers moving back and forth between Akkad and Bisitun knew of Tammuz’s role, and soon word spread that he was one of Eskkar’s followers. After that, they settled into a dreary existence as simple tavern owners, conspicuously avoided by any of the local thieves or anyone trying to escape official notice. Trella had advised them to be patient, that something important would be found for them.
Then one day Annok-sur had arrived, accompanied by Hathor, to meet them. Annok-sur offered Tammuz and En-hedu another, more dangerous chance to spy for Akkad. They would have to move to Sumer, become two of its inhabitants, and stay for at least two or three years. There would be great danger. If they were discovered, death by torture would be their fate. However, if they remained hidden and provided useful information, they could return to Akkad in due time and step out into the open as respected members of Eskkar’s inner council.
One look at Tammuz’s face and En-hedu knew he wanted to accept. Since his arm prevented him from joining Eskkar’s soldiers, he would take on any role that Eskkar and Trella suggested that gave him a chance to fight. To Tammuz’s credit, he had turned to En-hedu to see what she thought. Whatever reservations En-hedu had had vanished.
In truth, she was as wearied of their life in Bisitun as her husband. So they agreed to go to Sumer. But it turned out there was much more that Annok-sur wanted. She and Trella sought information from the leading citizens of Sumer, not just the poor and destitute. And Lady Trella had figured out a possible way for En-hedu to gain entry to the wealthier merchants and traders.
Nor was Tammuz ignored. Hathor explained what Eskkar wanted. More training would be required for the both of them, so that they could not only defend themselves, but eliminate potential threats to their mission. That training had lasted more than a month before Annok-sur and Hathor considered them as well prepared as possible.
Then they traveled south, until they reached the village of Ubaid, in Sumer’s northern lands. One of Yavtar’s boat captains had come from the obscure village, and he escorted Tammuz and En-hedu there.
All that preparation had ended at last. They journeyed south, passing through several small villages before reaching Sumer. Now that they had arrived, they could at last begin their mission.
En-hedu settled herself against the wall, though she never relaxed enough so that she couldn’t get to her feet in a moment. As the sun began its descent, customers by ones and twos arrived. The poorest carried something to barter for ale — a chicken, a few eggs, fruit, bread, cheese, or even firewood. En-hedu watched one man exchange a knife for supper and the promise of plenty of ale. Since he carried another knife on his belt, he’d probably stolen the first one. She guessed he would drink his ale quickly and depart, just in case the real owner of the weapon arrived.
Loud voices, laughter, and the occasional oath soon filled the inn. The sounds were so familiar to Tammuz that he didn’t even wake up until Enhedu nudged his arm.
“Time to eat,” she said.
Tammuz remained at their space, while En-hedu fetched two greasy bowls only half full of stew, each with a hunk of bread protruding over the top. She made a second trip to bring the ale, watered down to be little stronger than what came out of the well down the lane. The food took the edge off their hunger, but did little else.
The rest of the night went as would be expected in such a place. Men came and went, women arrived to sell themselves, a few lucky men drank enough to get drunk. Two fights started. As the darkness deepened outside, the customers’ voices rose, and soon everyone had to practically shout to be heard. Twice men approached En-hedu to see if she were available, but Tammuz put his hand on his knife, and the men shrugged and turned away.
As the evening grew later and later, the grinning patrons left as they arrived, by ones and twos, until finally the innkeeper secured the door and put out the fire. Snoring men who had had too much to drink soon created another type of din, but Tammuz and En-hedu were used to that, too.
In the morning, they gathered their sacks and went out into the lane. They bought fresh bread in the market, then began searching for a tavern to purchase. En-hedu expected this to be a simple enough process. Buying an inn shouldn’t be any more complicated than buying a house, just a slightly larger one. Anyone could call a one-room hut a tavern, and more than a few proprietors did just that. Larger establishments, like the one they stayed at last night, would cost more coins to acquire, but En-hedu thought that they should be able to purchase a good-sized place for twenty silver coins or so. Nevertheless, Yavtar had warned them of the difficulties they might encounter.
Before the sun reached its peak in the sky, they found one not far from the docks that looked promising. After studying it, they approached the owner.
“Can’t sell to you,” the prospective seller said. “Wish I could, but only King Eridu’s men can buy and sell a tavern in Sumer now. A new law, passed only a few months ago. Just another tax, really.”
“Then how do we buy one?” Tammuz asked.
“Fresh from the farm, I see.” The man laughed. “Well, first, you have to bribe a local merchant or trader to represent you. Then he and the seller set the price, which will be higher than you expect, so they can both make an extra profit off you. And in addition to the price, you’ll pay another silver coin to King Eridu’s men.”
“What trader would you recommend?” En-hedu asked.
“One’s as bad as the other. You’ll probably have to wait all day or even longer just to see one.” The innkeeper lowered his voice. “Then, a few days after the sale, you may find yourself turned out of your place by Eridu’s cronies at the palace. They don’t like people from the countryside buying establishments in Sumer. So once they’ve taken your coins, unless the king and his people approve of you, they just take your property and turn you out.”
The proprietor shook his head at the injustice. “If you find someone to help you, come back. I’d love to take a profit and return to Nippur. I was born there, and now I have a farm and wife waiting there for me.”
En-hedu and Tammuz thanked the helpful innkeeper and turned away. They found a shady spot against a wall where they could sit. The smell of urine wasn’t too bad, and the people passing by ignored them, as they would any beggars.
“We can’t take a chance on something like that happening,” Tammuz said. “If we’re turned out, we’ll never be able to buy another one without arousing suspicion.”
“That means we’ll have to go to Merchant Gemama. If he arranges it, we’ll be able to buy this place without dealing with King Eridu’s men.”
Yavtar had advised them to seek Gemama’s assistance if they needed it, but warned them of the danger as well.
“As soon as we mention Yavtar’s name, he’ll know we’re spies,” Tammuz said.
“Perhaps not. And even if he does, if he denounces us, we can do the same to him,” En-hedu said. “And what we’ve heard of King Eridu, even an accusation would be enough of an excuse to seize Gemama’s property, or at the very least demand a large bribe from the merchant.”
Since Eridu’s return to Sumer, his rule of the city had turned into a nightmare for its inhabitants. King One- hand, as he was now called behind his back, had already killed more than a dozen people for the slightest of reasons. He’d raised taxes twice, desperate to recover the ransom he’d paid, not to mention the gold wasted on the lost campaign. Men, weapons, horses, food — Eridu had expended huge amounts of gold in the last year and now had nothing to show for it. The people’s unhappiness showed in their sullen faces, especially the women. Many had lost a husband or son in the fighting.
“Then we might as well get it over with,” Tammuz said.
They walked the dusty lanes until they found Gemama’s house. The guard at the gate refused them entry, of course, until they produced a copper coin to show their good intentions. So early in the day, Gemama wasn’t home, so they waited, along with four other prospective clients, for their chance to speak to the merchant.
“We might be here for the rest of the afternoon, and he still might not see us,” Tammuz complained.
“Then we’ll return in the morning, or try and see him at the docks.”
The other petitioners ignored them, two country bumpkins who looked as poor as any grubbing farmer. Fortunately for Tammuz and Enhedu, Gemama must have had a good day’s trading, for he returned to his house well before the sun began to set.
As he walked through the gate, he glanced over those waiting to see him. When he caught sight of Tammuz and En-hedu, his eyes widened with curiosity. No doubt he seldom dealt with anyone as poor as they appeared to be.
