To the Land of the Living (15 page)

“What can I tell? It was a city long ago, where I was born and lived and was king and – died. The River Buranunu ran along its flank. Enlil was the god of the city and Inanna its goddess, and –”

“No. I mean the new Uruk, that is here in the Afterworld.”

“I know nothing of any such city,” said Gilgamesh.

Herod studied him closely. “Simon thinks you do.”

“He does? Whatever I know of the new Uruk, which is very little, I’ve learned from Simon.”

“Ah. I begin to see.”

“The first I heard of it,” Gilgamesh said, “was when I encountered Simon across the bay in the land of the flaming mountains. There is a city called Uruk in the Afterworld, he told me. He told me that this Uruk is a city much like the city of my life, and there are people of my kin there. This Uruk, he said, is a city of fabulous wealth and enormous treasure.”

“Yes. The true picture does come into focus now,” said Herod.

“He asked if I would join him in an expedition to Uruk. His soldiers, he said, are bored and seek adventure.

“And also he seeks treasure.”

“The treasure of Uruk?”

“Any treasure,” Herod said. “Have you looked at the walls and towers of this city? He’s encrusted Brasil with emeralds and rubies and sapphires and diamonds. And gems the names of which no one knows, which were never seen on Earth but are found only in the After world. His appetite for fancy baubles is enormous.
Enormous
. Five wizards conjure more stones into existence for him all day long and all the night; but of course those stones last only a short while. He craves the genuine article. If Uruk has great treasure, Simon hungers for it.”

“I took him for a wiser man.”

“There is much wisdom in him. But this is the Afterworld, Gilgamesh, where the decay of time turns wise men to folly. He loves bright stones.”

“There were no stones at all in Uruk,” Gilgamesh pointed out. “We built our city from bricks made of mud. We had neither emeralds nor rubies.”

“That was your Uruk. Simon means to find the Afterworld’s Uruk. He thinks you know the way.”

“I told him that I did not.”

“He thinks you lie,” said Herod amiably.

“Then he’s an even greater fool. I’ve been in the Afterworld twice as long as your Simon, or even longer. Doesn’t he think that in all that time I’d have heard of it, if my countrymen had built a new Uruk for themselves here?”

Herod rocked slowly back and forth on the windowsill, smiling to himself. “You two have really screwed each other over, haven’t you?”

“What?”

“The valiant Gilgamesh and the shrewd Simon have led each other ass–deep into confusion. He believes you can find Uruk for him. You believe he can find it for you. Each of you thinks the other one holds the secret of Uruk’s location. But in fact neither of you knows anything at all about the place.”

“I certainly don’t, at any rate.”

“Neither does Simon. I assure you.”

“Then how –

“Some wandering swindler came to him a little while ago. One Hanno, a Carthaginian, claiming to be a maker of maps. You know how reliable maps are in the Afterworld, Gilgamesh?
But this Hanno began telling tales of the treasures of Uruk, and Simon’s eyes lit up like the jewels he covets so hungrily. Where can I find this Uruk, Simon asked. And Hanno sold him a map. Then he disappeared. When Romans start buying maps from Carthaginians no good can come of it, I say. The day after Hanno left Brasil, Simon proudly brought me the map and told me the story. Let us plan an expedition of conquest, he said. And unrolled the map. And its lines ran crazily in every direction, so that it would make your eyes ache to follow them, and even as we stared they flowed and twisted about. And then in five minutes the map was blank, just an empty piece of demon-hide. I thought Simon would have a stroke. Uruk! Uruk! That was all he could say, over and over, grunting like that Hairy Man wizard of his. Then off we went to the mainland, where some caravan was supposed to arrive from the Outback, scoundrels and villains of some sort, dealers in stolen gems. Simon had business with them. He’s mixed up in all sorts of garbage of that kind. I don’t have to pay any attention to it. And what do we hear but that there are two gigantic hulking Sumerians traveling with the caravan, and one of them is Gilgamesh the king of Uruk! Uruk again! The caravan doesn’t arrive – hit by bandits in the pass, so the word is – but Gilgamesh does. Which is all the better for Simon Magus. What does the loss of a few caskets of gems matter, if he can hope to loot all of Uruk? Do you see, Gilgamesh? He means for you to lead him to Uruk so that he can plunder it!”

“Sooner would I be able to lead him to Paradise. There is no Uruk here in the Afterworld, Herod.”

“Are you certain of that?”

“Who can be certain of anything here? But why haven’t I ever heard of it, if it truly exists?”

“The Afterworld is very large, Gilgamesh. There is no one who can claim to have explored it all. Perhaps it grows ever larger each day, so that no one could possibly see every part of it, even if he never rested a moment. I’ve traveled in it for twice a thousand years and I haven’t even seen a tenth of it, I suspect. And you, much older even than I – even you, I wager, are a stranger to much of the Afterworld. You told me yourself that you had never been in Brasil before.”

“Agreed. But Uruk – a city built by Sumerians, inhabited
by Sumerians no. Impossible that it could exist without my knowing of it.”

“Unless you knew of it once, and have forgotten that you did.”

“Also impossible.”

“Is it? You know what memory is like here.”

“Well”

“You know, Gilgamesh.”

“But how could I forget my own city? No. No. There is no Uruk in the Afterworld,” said Gilgamesh sullenly. “Accept the truth of that or not as you like, King Herod. But
I
know where the truth lies in this matter.”

“Merely a fable, then?”

“Absolutely. A phantom of this Hanno’s imagination.”

“Why would he name his phantom Uruk, after a city which time itself has forgotten, if what you say is true?”

“Who knows? Perhaps he met me once, and I told him where I was from, and the name stuck in his mind. I am well known in the Afterworld, Herod.”

“So in truth you are.”

“There is no Uruk. Simon deceives himself. If he thinks I know how to lead him there, he deceives himself doubly.”

Herod was silent a long moment.

At length he said, “Then answer me this, Gilgamesh. If this Uruk really doesn’t exist, why have you agreed to join Simon in an expedition to find a nonexistent place?”

“Because,” said Gilgamesh carefully, “the thought came to me that I might just be wrong, that perhaps there is such a place as Uruk after all and it has escaped my memory.”

Herod’s eyes widened in amazement. “What? You told me the absolute opposite, no more than two minutes ago!”

“Did I?” said Gilgamesh. “Well, then so I did.”

“Your way of joking is very odd, my friend.”

Gilgamesh smiled. “With all my heart, Herod, I am convinced that this Uruk of Simon’s is a mere myth. But this is the Afterworld. Nothing is ever as we expect it to be here. There was Simon, telling me that he has heard wondrous tales of Uruk. It sounded crazy to me, that there should be any such place, but what if I was wrong about that? I must allow for that possibility. As you said, the Afterworld is large beyond anyone’s comprehension. For all I know, Uruk does perhaps
exist somewhere far off in this incomprehensible place and through some fluke I have never heard of it. Now the powerful dictator Simon is offering me a chance to go searching for it. Why should I say no? What do I have to lose?”

“The only information that Simon has about Uruk is absolute nonsense. He’s gambling that you can fill in the blanks on his map for him.”

“I wasn’t aware of that.”

“He means to use you. He’ll let you take him to Uruk, if there is any such place, and he’ll allow you to help him get his hands on all those strongboxes full of precious gems that Hanno said were there. And in return he’ll set you up as Uruk’s king.”

“As you know, I have no wish to be king of any city. Particularly one that doesn’t exist.”

“But Simon doesn’t know that. He thinks you’d jump at the chance.”

“I told you. I want only Enkidu.”

“Your missing friend, you mean?”

“My friend. My hunting companion. My true brother. Closer to me than any brother could be.”

“And where might he be?”

“Gone. A mystery. Vanished into the sky, it would seem, or into the bowels of the earth. He must have been carried off.”

“By whom?”

“I have no idea. The bandits who raided van der Hey den’s caravan, I suppose. But I mean to search for him.”

“Even though you have about as much chance of finding him as you do of finding Uruk?”

“At least I know that Enkidu exists.”

“But he could be anywhere. A million miles away. Ten million. He could be dead. Who knows? You could look for a thousand years and never find him again.”

Shrugging, Gilgamesh said, “I have lost him before, and eventually found him. I’ll find him again: and if it takes me a thousand years, Herod, so be it. What’s a thousand years to me? What’s ten thousand?”

“And meanwhile?”

“Meanwhile what?”

“Uruk,” Herod said. “What do you plan to do about that, now that you know Simon’s been bluffing you? Will you go along with him anyway on this lunatic expedition? With him
hoping that you really do know the way – or at least can figure it out somehow – and you absolutely sure that there’s no such place, but praying that somehow you’ll get to it anyway?”

Herod’s waspish buzzing was beginning to bother Gilgamesh again. The little man was constantly probing, pushing, maneuvering. For what purpose?

Gilgamesh walked to the window and loomed over him.

“Why are you so concerned about the Uruk journey, Herod?”

“Because it means nothing but trouble for me.”

“Trouble for you? Why for you?”

“If Simon takes off on a crusade to God knows where with you, I’m going to be stuck here running the shop until he gets back. Which could be centuries, and me trying to preside over this madhouse all the while. His viceroy, do you see? The regent, while he’s gone. Do you think I’m looking forward to that? Brasil is stacked to the rafters with crazy military types, most of them oversized and mentally underfurnished, who’d like nothing better than to kill me, or you, or each other, and if they aren’t enough trouble there are all these sorcerers too, turning the air blue with their incantations, a great many of which unfortunately are quite potent. I’d go out of my mind without Simon here to keep a lid on everything.”

“If being regent of Brasil would be such a burden for you, King Herod, you could always come with us to Uruk.”

“Fine! Much better! March day and night for a hundred years through the godforsaken wilderness looking for some place that isn’t even there!” He shook his head. “
Meshuggenah
, that’s what you are. But I’m not.”

“And if Uruk is there?”

“And if it isn’t?”

Gilgamesh felt himself losing the last of his patience. “Well, then move somewhere else! You don’t have to stay in Brasil. Get yourself a villa in Nova Roma, or have one of the Outback princes take you in. You could settle with the Israelis, for that matter. They’re Jews like you, aren’t they?”

“Jews, yes,” said Herod dourly. “But not like me. I don’t understand them at all. No, Gilgamesh, I don’t want to do any of those things. I like it here. Brasil is my home. I’ve got a sweet little niche here. I have no desire whatever to live anywhere else. But if Simon
“The ground rumbled suddenly as if monsters were rising beneath the tiled mosaic floor of Simon’s palace.

“What’s that?” Gilgamesh asked.

“Vesuvius!” cried Herod. He turned toward the window and stared out into the dusk. The ground shook a second time, more fiercely than before, and there was a tremendous roar. Gilgamesh plucked the little man aside and leaned out the window. An eye-dazzling spear of red flame split the darkness. Another roar, another, another: like the angry growls of some great beast struggling to break free. From the crest of the mighty volcano in the center of the city came cascades of bubbling lava, showers of pumice, choking clouds of dense black smoke: and throughout it all that single fiery scarlet lance kept rising and rising. Fearless though he was, Gilgamesh had to throttle back a reflexive impulse to run and hide.

Hide? Where? Here on the slopes of that dread volcano there was no safety anywhere to be found.

“Let me see!” Herod said, tugging at Gilgamesh’s arm. He was panting. His face was streaked with sweat. He forced his way past Gilgamesh’s elbow and thrust his head forth to have a better view. There came another world-shaking convulsion underground. “Fantastic!” Herod whispered. “Incredible! This is the best one ever!” There was awe in his voice, and reverence. Slowly it dawned on Gilgamesh that this eruption had aroused extraordinary delight in Herod. He looked transfigured. His eyes were aglow, shining; and there seemed something like a sexual excitement throbbing in him. He seemed almost crazed with ecstasy. “Twice in two nights! Fantastic! Fantastic! Do you see why I could never leave this place, Gilgamesh? You’ve got to talk Simon out of going off looking for Uruk. You’ve got to. I beg you!”

Under the cloud-shrouded red light of the dreary sun Gilgamesh made his way through the daytime streets of Brasil. By Enlil, had there ever been a city like this in all the world? There was witchcraft and deviltry everywhere.

Streets that wound in on themselves in tight spirals, like the spoor of a drunken snail. Narrow high-vaulted buildings that looked like snails themselves, ready to pick up and move away. Black-leaved trees with weeping boughs, from which came curious sighs when you got close to them. And everywhere
the dry powdery smell of last night’s eruption, motes of dark dust dancing in the air, and little sparkling bits of flaming matter that stung ever so lightly as they settled on your skin.

Hands plucked at him as he walked briskly along. Hooded eyes stared from passageways. Once someone called him by name, but he could see no one. Ajax, trotting along at his heels, paused again and again to howl and glare, and even to raise the fur along his back and spit as though he were a cat rather than a dog; but the enemies that Ajax perceived were all invisible to Gilgamesh.