The Dragon of the Ishtar Gate

In the dirty little inn at Tahapanes, on the Pelusiac branch of the Nile, flies buzzed and circled languidly as the afternoon declined. The sun slanted through the window and gleamed on a copper statue of a cat, which sat on the counter and stared haughtily at the mere mortals who shared the room with it.

Myron sat at a table, writing in his journal. From time to time he sipped at a mug of beer, for he was determined to accustom himself to the stuff. Bessas sat at the same table, swilling beer in great gulps and honing his sword. At the other table, Kothar threw dice with Pnon the innkeeper. Bessas finally jerked a hair from his black mane and tried his blade on it. Satisfied, he spoke:

"Boys, I'll throw a round of dice with you. Low man goes out to buy food for our dinner and fuel for Master Pnon to cook it with."

Pnon, fat and greasy, said in broken Aramaic: "If you use these magical dice, you surely lose. Already your Syrian friend win cost of your dinner from me."

Kothar swept up the three dice and blew on them. "It is simply that my gods take better care of me than yours do of you—or perchance I take better care of them, by prayer and sacrifice. But I shall have to go anyway, as neither of you can converse with the folk here. Where are those two scatterwitted youths?"

"They went for a stroll in the market place," said Myron. "By rights it is they—watch out!"

Kothar, rising, had knocked against the copper cat, which swayed as he clutched it and settled back on its base. Myron passed a hand across his forehead and said:

"Did you work a spell on that cat? I thought surely it would fall, and we should have to buy it of Master Pnon."

Pnon laughed and picked up the statue. "Heavy weight in base, see? Not fall—ha, what that?"

A rising noise of running and shouting came to Myron's ears. The door flew open; in rushed Shimri and Skhâ. The former slammed the door and shot the bolt, while the latter panted:

"They—they are after us! Save us!"

"What are they and what would they of you?" said Bessas.

"Shimri kicked a cat in the market place—"

"I meant no harm!" wailed Shimri. "May I eat pork if I lie! This abandoned beast kept rubbing against my legs, and I did but push it away. Then a man began shouting and pushed me, and I thought he was fooling and pushed him back, and they all began screaming and throwing clods—"

The door boomed as men hurled themselves against it. A wild-eyed face glared in through the small window. A skinny arm thrust into the room, pointing at Shimri, while foaming lips screamed threats and imprecations at the foreigner.

"Gentlemen!" cried Pnon. "You must go away now already! This man do terrible sacrilege! These people tear down my inn, kill me, if you not go! Get out!"

"Where in demon land are our other arms?" roared Bessas. "In the stable? Myron, go fetch—"

"Get Shimri out the back door," said Kothar. "I will deal with these folk. Pnon, light me an oil lamp, quickly. And fetch me a couple of fresh eggs."

"Are you mad, man?" cried the taverner, but he lit a small clay lamp from the embers of the hearth fire.

A louder bang on the door told that some sort of beam or log had been brought into play as a ram. Kothar said:

"Sit down, mortals, and act as if you were enjoying yourselves. On your lives, smile!"

Kothar did something with the lamp, and with his free hand pulled back the bolt and opened the door. The crowd outside, about to make another rush with their log, stood stupidly staring. Kothar stepped into the doorway, opened his mouth, and blew out a blast of yellow flame.

The Egyptians in front screamed and tried to back away but were prevented by those behind. Kothar spoke in that strange, low voice. At once the yammering died. Although Myron could not follow the crackle of the Egyptian sentences, he caught the name "Kothar of Qadesh." Kothar was introducing himself. Then he invited the multitude into the tavern.

Although there was room for only a few inside, others crowded at the door and the window to see. Keeping up his soothing spate of talk, Kothar waved his delicate hands to prove them empty, then pulled a die from one man's nose, a duck's egg from the ear of another, and a kerchief from the mouth of another. He juggled a ring, a cup, and a dagger. He placed three cups upside down and invited the audience to guess under which a large ivory bead lay hidden.

An hour later the crowd straggled out, chattering cheerfully and profusely thanking Kothar. Myron gave a long whistle and asked:

"What did you tell them about Shimri, Kothar?"