interpreted.”
“Sometimes with female humans, it is best to give them what they think they want. Or, in this case, a sample of it.”
Kalam sipped some beer. “I have never heard you doubt a female before, Justice.”
He shrugged. “A lawmaker learns about people. You’ll see someday.”
Kalam’s gaze froze over Ningal’s shoulder. “You won’t believe who just walked in,” he said. “An old acquaintance of yours. Don’t turn.”
Guli halted when he saw Kalam; Kalam watched his gaze fix on and recognize the justice who had put him in the canals. Guli braced his wide shoulders, waved to the ale-wife, and came over to their table. “Greetings of the New Year to you, Justice, and you, Kalam.”
“Guli!” the justice said. “I assume you are staying out of trouble, since I haven’t seen you in court.”
Kalam looked at the man’s waist; still no seal. Some people never did anything with the chances they were given.
“I have my own shop,” he said.
Kalam exchanged a dubious look with Ningal.
“I am a hairdresser.”
“Greetings, Guli,” a red-haired, voluptuous beauty said, her long fingers trailing across his shoulders. “Greetings, gentlemen.” Her gaze was frankly admiring of Kalam and the justice. Ningal ignored her, not to the point of rudeness, but because he had no use for women other than priestesses… and Chloe. Kalam smiled at the woman, but his thoughts were arrested. Chloe? Was the justice keeping the Khamite woman as a concubine?
“That gorgeous creature is one of my clients,” Guli said. “You are well, Justice?”
“The gods are good, Guli.”
“Glad to hear it, Justice. Well, gentlemen, if you will excuse me. A quick beer before I pick up my seal at the inscribers today.”
They bid him a good New Year and he walked off. Kalam couldn’t look at his employer. Would he congress with a Khamite woman?
“It’s a good omen to see a man taking opportunities,” the justice said. “His own shop and a girlfriend, besides. She lives on my street, I believe.”
Kalam looked at the justice in shock. “I thought you only, uh, congressed, with priestesses.”
The justice’s gaze was amused over his clay goblet of wine. “I know where the female lives because I’ve seen the deed to the house.” He held Kalam’s glance. “Is something bothering you, young man?”
“Do you think Chloe is pretty?”
“No.”
Kalam sighed almost audibly.
“No, not pretty. I think she is the most attractive woman I’ve ever known. She’s radiant, quiet, complicated, and by moonlight… not even Inana, in all her glory, can compare.”
Kalam was shattered. In his effort to be nonchalant, he accidentally stuffed the drinking tube up his nostril. He jerked back from the reed, cut his lip and nose in the process, and upset the jar so it nearly toppled over.
After the ale-wife straightened the jar, gave Kalam a salve for his nose and lip, and a flax cloth to pat the little bit of blood, then cut him a new reed and buffed the edge to a less than lethal blade, Kalam met the justice’s bemused stare.
For all his life, Kalam had known Ningal; no man was more admired for his eloquence, his fairness, and his humanity. He’d turned down the responsibility of
lugal,
had even declined to be
en,
in favor of practicing justice without bias. His children were well established in nearby Lagash, his son served as the
lugal
there. His grandchildren were wealthy shipwrights in Eridu, on the shore of the southern sea. Great-grandchildren of his were scattered through apprenticeships and Tablet Houses across the land of the Black-Haired Ones. Ningal was above reproach in every way.
His concubine was a marsh dweller who kept sheep?
“I need to go to my office,” Ningal said. “I have tablets to oversee.”
“Shall I come, sir?” Officially, it was Kalam’s last day off, before work began in the new year.
“Enjoy today,” Ningal said. “I’ll see you at dawn tomorrow.”
“Thank you,”
“Sometimes with female humans, it is best to give them what they think they want. Or, in this case, a sample of it.”
Kalam sipped some beer. “I have never heard you doubt a female before, Justice.”
He shrugged. “A lawmaker learns about people. You’ll see someday.”
Kalam’s gaze froze over Ningal’s shoulder. “You won’t believe who just walked in,” he said. “An old acquaintance of yours. Don’t turn.”
Guli halted when he saw Kalam; Kalam watched his gaze fix on and recognize the justice who had put him in the canals. Guli braced his wide shoulders, waved to the ale-wife, and came over to their table. “Greetings of the New Year to you, Justice, and you, Kalam.”
“Guli!” the justice said. “I assume you are staying out of trouble, since I haven’t seen you in court.”
Kalam looked at the man’s waist; still no seal. Some people never did anything with the chances they were given.
“I have my own shop,” he said.
Kalam exchanged a dubious look with Ningal.
“I am a hairdresser.”
“Greetings, Guli,” a red-haired, voluptuous beauty said, her long fingers trailing across his shoulders. “Greetings, gentlemen.” Her gaze was frankly admiring of Kalam and the justice. Ningal ignored her, not to the point of rudeness, but because he had no use for women other than priestesses… and Chloe. Kalam smiled at the woman, but his thoughts were arrested. Chloe? Was the justice keeping the Khamite woman as a concubine?
“That gorgeous creature is one of my clients,” Guli said. “You are well, Justice?”
“The gods are good, Guli.”
“Glad to hear it, Justice. Well, gentlemen, if you will excuse me. A quick beer before I pick up my seal at the inscribers today.”
They bid him a good New Year and he walked off. Kalam couldn’t look at his employer. Would he congress with a Khamite woman?
“It’s a good omen to see a man taking opportunities,” the justice said. “His own shop and a girlfriend, besides. She lives on my street, I believe.”
Kalam looked at the justice in shock. “I thought you only, uh, congressed, with priestesses.”
The justice’s gaze was amused over his clay goblet of wine. “I know where the female lives because I’ve seen the deed to the house.” He held Kalam’s glance. “Is something bothering you, young man?”
“Do you think Chloe is pretty?”
“No.”
Kalam sighed almost audibly.
“No, not pretty. I think she is the most attractive woman I’ve ever known. She’s radiant, quiet, complicated, and by moonlight… not even Inana, in all her glory, can compare.”
Kalam was shattered. In his effort to be nonchalant, he accidentally stuffed the drinking tube up his nostril. He jerked back from the reed, cut his lip and nose in the process, and upset the jar so it nearly toppled over.
After the ale-wife straightened the jar, gave Kalam a salve for his nose and lip, and a flax cloth to pat the little bit of blood, then cut him a new reed and buffed the edge to a less than lethal blade, Kalam met the justice’s bemused stare.
For all his life, Kalam had known Ningal; no man was more admired for his eloquence, his fairness, and his humanity. He’d turned down the responsibility of
lugal,
had even declined to be
en,
in favor of practicing justice without bias. His children were well established in nearby Lagash, his son served as the
lugal
there. His grandchildren were wealthy shipwrights in Eridu, on the shore of the southern sea. Great-grandchildren of his were scattered through apprenticeships and Tablet Houses across the land of the Black-Haired Ones. Ningal was above reproach in every way.
His concubine was a marsh dweller who kept sheep?
“I need to go to my office,” Ningal said. “I have tablets to oversee.”
“Shall I come, sir?” Officially, it was Kalam’s last day off, before work began in the new year.
“Enjoy today,” Ningal said. “I’ll see you at dawn tomorrow.”
“Thank you,”
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