February, Year 9 A.E.

King comes! Eat dirt before shar kibrat 'arbaim, the King of the Four Quarters of the Earth! King of Sumer and Akkad, King of Kar-Duniash, King of Babylon, Ensi of Marduk…"

The great audience hall of Ur was tense, dense-packed with robed clerks, priests in old-style wraps that left one shoulder bare, and soldiers with their beards freshly oiled and curled. The hot still air smelled of that perfumed oil, sweat, and fear. Light from the small, high windows stabbed into the gloom hot and bright, breaking off the colors of tapestries and murals that showed the king's ancestors at war, at the hunt, making sacrifice to the gods. Save for the ever-watchful royal guard, all went down on their bellies as the king entered.

"Shagarakti-Shuriash, son of Kudur-Enlil, son of Kadashman-Enlil, descendant of the kings who were before the kings, unto whom the Gods have given rule! La sanan, sa mahira la isu! The king who has no rival! O King, live forever!"

Shagarakti-Shuriash seated himself and made a sign. The crowd rose, standing with folded hands and downcast eyes, as was seemly.

"Let the king's servant Kidin-Ninurta approach! Let the king's servant Arad-Samas approach!"

Kidin-Ninurta cast a single burning glance at his rival as they prostrated themselves before the throne. When they rose, he found himself under the king's gaze.

Shagarakti-Shuriash was a man in his early middle years, with gray in his curled beard; he was perhaps a little lighter of skin and more hawkish of feature than his average subject, legacy of the Kassite hill-men and Mitannian princesses among his ancestors. His body was stocky and thick with muscle, beginning to grow at the waist but at ease in the gorgeous embroidered linen of his robe. Gray-streaked black hair was clubbed at the base of his head with gold wire and confined around his brows with a circlet of gold shaped like a city wall.

"I have come a long way from Babylon," he said. This had better be worth my time, came unspoken afterward.

The brown eyes were hard and weary; he had been on the throne for only three years in his own right, but much of the toil of kingship had been his during the long reigns of his father and grandfather, campaigning in the north and east.

"Let the king's overseer of trade with Dilmun and Meluhha speak."

"O King, my lord, your servant Kidin-Ninurta prays that the gods grant you long life and health! Your servant has met with the strangers from the south. Your servant has spoken with the strangers from the south. They approach from the south, in great ships; from the lands of Dilmun and Meluhha they approach. From the days of the kings your fathers all such affairs have been the province of my office; so decreed the kings who were before the king."

Arad-Samas was swelling like a frog with the need to speak. When the king granted permission, he burst out:

"O King, my lord, may the gods, the great gods, the mighty gods make your days many in the land! From the time of the kings your fathers, diplomatic correspondence has gone through my office. Letters with the kings your brothers of Assyria, of Hatti-land, of Egypt, of Elam, have passed through my office. It is my task for the king to-"

"The strangers appear from the south, in the direction of Dilmun and Meluhha! Precedent-"

"They are not of Dilmun! They are not of Meluhha! My office-"

"Silence!"

The bureaucrats bent their heads and folded hands; the king made a quick quirk of the hand toward his personal secretary. There was a swift juggling of tablets, and the man read:

"From the king's servant Arad-Samas to the king's servant Kidin-Ninurta; health, prosperity, life. You write once more of rumors of foreigners in great ships at Dilmun. What is this to me? The Assyrians have broken the Mitanni and prowl the northern borders like wolves about a sheep pen; Egypt and Hatti-land have made a peace and speak not of Asshur's deeds. The Elamites are hungrier than the jackal and more cunning than the serpent. I have greater concerns than the ships of merchants in the Southern Sea."

Kidin-Ninurta smiled within himself and bowed his head. There are some things that should not be written down on the clay. His father had taught him that. It made it so difficult to switch positions later. He thought fondly of the ingot of pure silver that rested in the strong room of his house, the gift of the strangers. The strangers who had come to the Land and shown that they were of consequence, as he had said and Arad-Samas had denied in writing…

"Let Kidin-Ninurta speak," the king went on. "Let others withdraw."

Amid considerable rustling and clanking, most of the crowd filed out the exits; except for the guard, of course, and some of the king's advisers and wisemen, and the king's heir from the House of Succession, his son Kashtiliash.

"O King, your servant speaks. For five years merchants returning from Dilmun have spoken of strange ships."

"How, strange?"

"Huge, O King. Larger than any ship seen before, and laden with goods so fine that they might have been made by magic and the arts of demons. I thought these tales to be wild-does not every sailor returning from Dilmun speak of wonders? Yet the tales are true; the truth is wilder than the tales!"

Shuriash nodded thoughtfully. He had seen some of those goods. Glass clearer than water, or in colors impossibly vivid; small mirrors better than burnished bronze or silver; most of all, knives and tools of the northern metal, iron. Better iron than any he had ever been able to get from his "brother" Tudhaliya in Hattusas; a knife of it was at his waist now, with the plain bone hilt replaced with gold wire. Small things, but beyond price.

"These foreigners-do they speak our tongue?" Working through interpreters was always an annoyance.

"A few speak it. Also, they have one of the king's subjects with them, whom they have trained as an interpreter; a merchant, Shamash-nasir-kudduru by name, of Ur. They desire an audience with the king's person."

The king stroked his beard. "They speak of trade?" Trade was a good field for a king to till.

"They speak of trade, and of alliance; they bring the word of their king Yhared-Koff 'in." The bureaucrat sounded out the uncouth foreign syllables with care. "And they send gifts, that the heart of the king my lord may be made glad."

Shuriash's eyebrows rose. He clapped his hands together. "Let the gifts be brought forth. Let us see if these foreigners do my house honor; let us see if they are worthy of speech with the king's person."

Kidin-Ninurta bowed, smiling behind a grave face. "The gifts await the attention of the king my lord," he said. "At the karum of Ur they wait; by the waterside they are readied for his view."

Shuriash snorted. "Can they not be brought here?"

The bureaucrat bowed low. "O King, they are too many."

Shuriash's brows rose again. "This the king will see."

Like something out of Kipling, Ian Arnstein thought. Well, some sort of mutant version of Rudyard.

The honor guard of Marines from the expeditionary force were in warm-season uniform-khaki shorts and shirts, floppy canvas hats, and cotton-drill webbing harness. The flared helmets were strapped to their packs, bayonets and bowies at their waists, flintlock rifles by their sides as they stood at parade rest. Their officers were in breastplate and helmet, katanas sloped back over their shoulders, sweating in the damp heat of Ur's riverside.

Karum, Ian reminded himself, which meant not only dockside but the association of merchants. Sometimes I think my head is going to explode with all the things I have to remember.

A huge, chattering crowd was held at bay by royal guardsmen, their spears jabbing a little occasionally to remind the common folk to keep their distance. The people looked much like twentieth-century Iraqis. Shorter, of course-nearly everyone was, in this century-dark of hair and eye, skin a natural olive that turned a deep bronze when exposed to this pitiless sun. The men wore kilts, or knee-length tunics, or longer robes; hats were shaped like flowerpots, sometimes spangled with bright metals. Here and there a near-naked laborer in a loincloth crouched, mouth open in awe; women were less numerous and dressed in long gowns and head-covering shawls, a few veiled. The crowd was dun-colored, mostly the soft natural browns and grays of undyed wool. Noblemen or rich merchants stood out in gorgeous relief, white and blue and purple and saffron-gold, often with attendants holding parasols over their heads.