"The Nantukhtar are too strange for my liver to feel easy at relying upon them. We might ally with the Hittites instead, or as well," the prince said. "They know Asshur's eye lies hungrily on their holdings west of the Euphrates."

"We might, if they did not have this new foe on their far western border, the Ekwesh," Shuriash said. "Now this rebel against the Nantukhtar king has risen to power there; he teaches the wild Ekwesh their arts; he gives them the secret of these fire weapons."

"So we will make alliance with the Nantukhtar, father and lord?"

"We will make alliance." His fingers traced the map again. "And then, once our enemies have been beaten, we will war against theirs- this rebel, the Ekwesh-if we can persuade the Hittites to it.

"It comes to me-perhaps a god whispers it in my ear-that the strangers bring a new age with them, one in which those who learn their arts will prosper and those who do not will be ground like grain between millstones and blown about by the wind."

His seamed face split in a broad smile.

"And Kar-Duniash," he went on, "is perfectly placed to benefit by this new age. Kashtiliash, my son, my heir, for all my life I have fought so that when my time comes to descend to the underworld I might leave to you a realm as strong and rich as that I inherited from my fathers. Now I see a chance to leave you a realm greater than I inherited; perhaps as great as Hammurabi's, greater than that of Gilgamesh. The Nantukhtar will need interpreters… as part of our alliance, I will suggest to them that a hundred young scribes be set to learning their language and their writing; and those young men will learn much of their arts. That for a beginning."

He raised his wine cup. "To the Nantukhtar! With them to pull our chariot, we shall spurn the four quarters of the earth beneath the wheels!"

"… and it's the perfect location as far as controlling technology transfer goes," Ian said-a little smugly, Marian Alston thought.

The command group of the expeditionary force was gathered in the cabin of the Chamberlain for a last conference before the fleet left for home, and Ian was highly pleased with the way things had gone so far. So was she, but a contrarian impulse inclined her to look for the shadow side.

"How so, Ian?" Swindapa asked. "My birth-people in Alba started with less than these Akkadians, and they have learned a great deal of Eagle people lore already."

"Yes," Ian chuckled, rubbing his hands together, "but apart from the fact that we've encouraged that, they have iron ore, copper, tin, wood and coal for fuel. These Babylonians have nothing but water and mud."

"And petroleum," Alston pointed out. "Which we have to show them how to use, if we're going to get any benefit out of it."

"True," Ian said. "But they still can't do much in the way of metallurgy without ores or fuels."

"Probably can't," Doreen corrected. "We'll see."

"Expect the unexpected," Alston agreed.

Kenneth Hollard poured more beer from the jug into his tankard, then made a face as he tasted it. "Mebbe we can teach them to make something better than this gruel," he said.

"It's safer than the water," the chief medical officer of the expeditionary force said; Justin Clemens shook his head. "God, this place is a living farm of diseases."

"Whatever we do, we have to do it fairly quickly," Alston said. "I can't keep so many of the Republic's keels and cannon here on the other side of the world for long. Too much could go wrong back home."

"I'm a diplomat, not a-" Ian said, then hesitated. "Hey, it just hit me-I am a diplomat now, not a history professor playing at diplomacy."

"Well, duh," Doreen said affectionately, poking him in the ribs. "It's only been going on a decade now."

Ian cleared his throat. "I'm a diplomat, not a magician. We'll have to see."

"Don't underestimate King Shuriash," Kenneth Hollard said. "He's one smart cookie, if I' in any judge."

"I agree," his sister, Kathryn, said. "So's his son." She grinned. "And Prince Kashtiliash is cute as a bug's ear, too."

"I suppose so," Hollard said dryly. "He doesn't do a thing for me."

"That's because you're narrow-minded, Colonel, sir," she replied, to a general chuckle.

"Doesn't do much for me, either," Alston said.

"That's because you're narrow-minded, darling," Swindapa said. At Alston's mock glower she went on: "Well, I promised to be monogamous, not blind."

"I," Doreen Arnstein said, laying a hand at the base of her throat and looking upward, "will say nothing at all."

March, Year 9 A.E.

"Ayup," Jared Cofflin said into the microphone, looking down at the text of the treaty. Christ, a treaty with Babylon. "Those are good terms. Ian must have them buffaloed."

"Not exactly," Marian Alston's voice said, a little scratchy with distance. "I think they were gettin' worried about their strategic situation all on their ownsome-it's as bad as we thought from the histories, maybe worse. And this king of theirs, Shagarakti-Shuriash, he's one sharp man; Ian thinks so too. We'll have to watch him, of course."

"Of course."

Cofflin leafed through the terms again; trade, of course-a couple of the new merchant houses were already chomping at the bit-and alliance, first against Babylonia's enemies, then against Walker. That was excellent, provided they could get the Hittites in later. He read on. Hmmmm, An Islander base near Ur, under the Republic's sovereignty; joint courts for any civil or criminal case involving Islanders in the kingdom of Kar-Duniash.

"Good work, the lot of you," he muttered. Damned if he was going to leave any citizen, under any circumstances whatsoever, to what passed for ancient Babylonian justice.

"Let's see…" Right of passage up the Tigris and Euphrates for Islander transport, an embassy in Babylon itself, technical aid, mineral concessions…

"Crackerjack job, Marian," he said. "I'm not going to have any trouble getting this past the Town Meeting, I can tell you. It reads pretty much like our wish list. We'll post it right away."

"Ian's doing; I stayed in the background." A chuckle. "The locals are having to put up with enough culture shock as it is. Now, if we can just get past the Tartessians next year or the year after, it'll be Walker who's caught between two fires."

"Big if."

"Very big. We've finished disembarking and unloading and shipped our return cargoes, so we'll sail tomorrow-take a day or two to get through those damned reed-swamps, and then it's 'all plain sail.' Thank God the ships could get this far upstream. See you in two months or so."

"Ayup. Give our love to 'dapa and the kids."

"Same to you and Martha and the tribe," Alston said. "Over."

"And out."

Cofflin sighed again and tossed the treaty into his Out tray; the shortwave set stood on a side cabinet. It was a cold, wet, early-March day outside. Branches were still bare; he could see a rider going past, a blurred vision of a head bowed under a rain slicker and the pony's drooping dejection. He half envied the expeditionary force, off in the warm lands, and the hardwood fire crackling in the fireplace was more than welcome. His hands hurt a little, the way they'd taken to doing in weather like this.

"Linda!" he called aloud. His secretary came in, and he indicated the treaty with a lift of his chin.

"Get this down to the Bookworks, would you, have them set it and print up, oh, three hundred copies for the Athenaeum to distribute- and tell 'em it's going in the next Warrant as well. Thanks."

"Sure, Chief," she said, leafing though it avidly; her younger sister was with the expeditionary force, he remembered. "I'll run it right over." She hurried out; he could hear a clatter as she grabbed an umbrella from the stand by the front door.