Although Asqudum had charged the guards at his disposal to guide Miszatu towards the part of the outer city she was to investigate upon leaving the Eygalbanda, she declined and simply asked for directions. She did not want to bring any undue attention to herself and I could not imagine the dour presence of the palace guard would be respectful to a mourning family if she did find the boy's parents. In any case, after all the terrors of this morning, she needed the grounding of morning prayer.

Miszatu arrived, now undeterred, back at the powder blue walls of the Bit Nanshe complex. She opened the gate and crossed the courtyard, walking over the cool shadow of the great sacred kishkanu tree, Mesumun, its branches stirring softly in the breeze as in ancient days. The tree was seeded at the founding of their sisterhood in Kharani's silver age, and now it was one of the most ancient things standing sentry over the city.

As Miszatu walked to the sunny pasture at the end of the courtyard, where the colorful, princely kudurannu-birds stalked between the gravel for squirming worms, and zabaru-birds zig-zagged between the sweet flowers, she was greeted by the moo of their milk cows, Ningal and Ninisina. The Bit Nanshe was a courtyard perched on the inner city's bank surrounded by the box-like apartments of the naditu sisters with a communal building for dining and cooking, and the main E-Sirara temple ended the block, perched facing out over the canal.

Kiddinitu, her little sister, and Ummi-Nanshe, her slave attendant, both sat on the stoop outside the dining hall and kitchen, playing with the litter kittens which had come the week before from two of their cats, Russhu and Lahamatu. The little animals dashed across the laps of the two girls and peered out at Miszatu with hubris and trepidation, towering over the girls' shoulders like goats on mountains. Ummi-Nanshe held up one by the arm pits who she snuggled to her cheeks. Kiddinitu petted her palms all down her dress upon which five kitties clung and kneaded like brooches.

"Aaalluuu Miszatu! It's so nice to see you! We missed you this morning!" Kiddinitu greeted.

Miszatu smiled. "Shulmu Kiddi, Ummi, how are the kitties doing!?"

"Ehehehe, they're just beginning to learn how to jump, and they're not all the way there." Giggled Kiddinitu.

"None of them get too hurt though. Even the runt is getting his footing." Explained Ummi-Nanshe.

"Awwww, that's so great! Do either of you two know where Sister Ayatu is?" Miszatu asked.

"You just missed her! She's making her rounds. Sister Kabtaya is knitting in the parlour." Kiddinitu answered.

"Miszatu, There's still plenty of breakfast leftover! I got up early and made fresh bread, so take that for the day along with your boiled eggs, cheese, and apples." Ummi-Nanshe advertised to her with pride.

"I even got up early and helped!" Kiddinitu announced.

"Oh Kiddinitu, no soft dream or stormy nightmare Ziqiqu ever sailed could ever wake you up before Ummi-Nanshe." Miszatu kidded.

The two girls burst out laughing, which was greeted by looks of confusion on the miniature lions' faces.

"Oh sweet sisters, I have been remiss in my morning prayers, so I am off to our lady to offer my day's affections. Take care with your little ones!" Miszatu waved to the two of them as she opened the gate of the E-Sirara.

She opened the door to the sanctuary from the courtyard, there was another public entrance off of the alley facing the canal that worshipers were meant to use, and was confronted by The Sharrum sha Paspasu himself, Uzu-Gal, the nugal of the pond ducks, who shot Miszatu a frightening look of judgment. He and his harem, composed of the princesses Nin-Ugudu, Nin-Turusa, and Nin-Mudirig, gaggled past Miszatu out from the sanctuary, gawking at her vulgarity, out into the courtyard. The king's stable of green and speckled ministers gaggled and quacked as they waddled behind frantically. Certainly not a retinue to be trifled with.

Miszatu stepped into the chapel, which was unusually dark. The shutters were drawn on the open right wall which looked out over the canal. The sanctuary was silent but for the The Lady's chamber, which was lit with only oil lamps and votive candles.

In the flickering light, rows upon rows of eyes peered out at her from the darkness at the edges of the sanctuary. The niches and benches which lined the walls of the chapel were covered in little people. Clay images of men and women of Kharani who stood only as tall as her knees, dressed in their finest ancestral clothing, stilled in gestures of prostration and reverence to Nanshe. Some had even stood there for hundreds of years. The people of Kharani deigned to dwell forever in the company of the goddess they so loved, and just as surely she would flow abundance and refreshment to them, even in dusty Kurnugu, the earth of no return.

The E-Sirara was almost as old as Kharani itself, the cult of the earliest immigrants, tradesmen, smugglers, craftworkers, and merchants who came up north on the Purattu from cities like Eridu and Nina looking for a better life. Though the shrine was established during the reign of the third king, Urnu.

The Bit-Naditu itself didn't exist until the Silver Age. As the city grew in wealth and importance, the kings, administrators, and merchants found themselves needing a place to house daughters whose marital status had hit complications. In little time, the ladies who took the role of Naditu of the E-sirara found themselves great socialites, Three of the four great Silver Age queens who ruled unwed, Amar-Nanshe, Pakinana, and Amat-Zuen, grew up in The House of the Naditu from their early adolescence.

The Lady stood barefoot at the edge of the ritual pond in her sanctuary. The tufts of the lady's gunakku gown were speckled brilliantly blue, green, and gold and silver, like the feathers of the hayaa bird. Her necklace and bangles of silver and her horned crown of gold, modeled after the grooves a bee's hive, shimmered dully in the low light. From her arms the lady always poured the holy waters, yet today the triple stream did not shower forth from the fountain. Miszatu was struck that the soft expression on her lady's face seemed less reassuring and more ambiguous than usual.

In front of Lady Nanshe lay the abzu basin into which the E-Sirara's holy waters had been poured from the lady's father in Eridu, though the water in the artificial pond truly flowed from a subterranean cistern linked to the city canal. In her holy waters, the old sages glimmered, descendants of the primeval fish from Eridu in whom Enki, lord of the deep, bestowed wisdom and luminance.

Miszatu knelt before the abzu and her lady's imposing figure. She lowered her head, closed her eyes, raised her arms in praise, and uttered her utterances:

"O Beloved Nanshe,

Lady of Abundance,

It is you for whom the land swells fat

Like a wall of honeycomb,

The sweetness of the hive's bounty,

Her charm makes the storerooms bulge,

O Nanshe, it is sweet to praise you!

O Daughter of Eridu,

Lady of the School,

For Whom the silver fish shimmer,

Beneath the shining rays of Utu,

Dashing to and fro in the holy abyss,

The purity of wisdom which your father gave you,

As a gift poured with delight,

Which showers your feet and toes,

O Nanshe, it is sweet to praise you!

O Queen of Feathers,

Lady of the Birds,

The flocks flutter in jubilation,

They adorn your favorite tree,

Shakkal-Munair,

Chirping songs of solidarity,

Like Mullil's whirligigs,

Just like the men of the city,

Some sport brilliant coats,

Some are of muddled down,

But you spread seed for them all,

Just the same!

O Nanshe, it is sweet to praise you!

O Thoughtful One,

Your heart is with the orphan,

Your heart is with the widow,

Your heart is with the kindness of strangers,

Your heart is with the wellbeing of the slave,

In the sack of the poor man, she puts sustenance,

For the pure maiden, she finds a good husband,

For the righteous man, she arranges a good wife,

Your heart is with the buzzing of the bees,

Your heart is with the migration of the birds,

Your heart is with the basking of the fish,

Your heart is with the community,

O Nanshe, it is sweet to praise you!"

After she had finished her service, Miszatu went to the kitchen where she scavenged the spread laid by Ummi-Nanshe and Kiddinitu. She assembled a basket of flat-bread, hummus, cheese, eggs, dates, onions, and two jars of cow's milk. Enough food to goad the good will of anyone she should meet. She hastily gobbled down an apple as she assembled the bribe-bag.

"Miszatu?" whispered out a raspy voice behind her.

Miszatu spun around in surprise. "Ah! Lady bless you, Sister Kabtaya! I did not see you there!"

Sister Kabtaya sat in the cool shade at the back of the common area, sitting in her wooden chair, knitting a scarf in deep blues, blacks, and whites. Since she was a girl Miszatu had marveled at the way the old woman's masterful weaving truly made the cloth seem like rippling water.

Miszatu was always nervous when she encountered the Bit Naditu's matriarch. Although she was now an adult, she could still remember her severe discipline. Yet things were different now. Miszatu was no longer a girl, but a woman, and now such harsh scrutiny would reflect worse on the teacher than the student, yet Kabtaya's stirring still made Miszatu flinch.

"I heard your prayer in the chapel. Why were you not present this morning?"

This was the very question Miszatu was hoping to avoid.

"I had to leave early this morning to provide services for an ailing client. He is a fisherman, burned extensively when his ship capsized over an ordeal vent in the swamps. It takes much time and dedication to change his bandages, make breakfast, and console his wife."

"So he has a wife? Why does she not wake up early to do these tasks for her ailing husband?"

"Such terrible wounds are dressed better by steady and refreshed hands. The woman is almost a widow!"

Miszatu was ashamed, by her Lady, that she had such talent for oath-breaking.

"Hm. I noticed you prayed with your own zamarru to honor our lady."

Miszatu sighed to herself. "Do you disapprove?"

"No, no, my little sister. Truly you are an excellent poet, your zamarru compositions are masterful, and come straight from your heart. Your Emesal is impeccable, your words are like the words of Enheduanna herself.

I do not seek to chastise you, Miszatu, I just feel that it is important to sing the old songs as they are sometimes too. Especially in times like these." My elder sister explained.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Have you heard the terrible news this morning?" she inquired.

Miszatu paused for a moment. She told another lie. She hated lying.

"No, what happened?" She asked, feigning ignorance.

"They found a little boy's dead body floating in the canal this morning, and moreover, it was Shakkunakku Nawirnushu himself who found him. All of us were there at morning prayer when... when the Lady's agubu jar began to spout blood from the canal."

A sharp chill ran down Miszatu's spine.

"Lady preserve us, it was dreadful. In all my years I've never seen anything like it. We had to close the blinds so that supplicants would not notice as it drained. May our lady pour sweet water for that poor boy in the afterlife, and for the fortunes of Kharani as well." Kabtaya lamented.

Miszatu didn't know what to say.

"Where are you carting all that food off to?" Kabtaya asked.

Again, Miszatu regretted that she must speak dishonestly: "I am going to see another client this afternoon, A Houri family with triplets! The snacks make my work that much less stressful."

Ahatu Kabtaya smiled.

"Take care, be back in time for dinner." She implored with a soft smile as she resumed work on her intricate embroidery.