“Eridu,” I said softly. “I know.”*
“Strange must be the memories of a creature such as you, who has seen such places rise and fall...” The old man gave a shudder. “I do not like to dwell on it. But if you recall the location, so much the better! Search its ruins, locate its temples. If the scrolls speak truly, there are many sacred chambers there, containing who knows what antique glory! With luck, some of the treasures will have remained undisturbed.”
“No doubt about that,” I said, “given its guardians.”
“Ah yes, the ancients will have protected them well!” The old man’s voice rose to a dramatic pitch; his hands made eloquent fluttering gestures of dismay. “Who knows what lurks there still? Who knows what prowls the ruins? Who knows what hideous shapes, what monstrous forms might ... Will you stop doing that with your tail? It’s not hygienic.”
*Eridu of the Seven Temples, the bone-white city, glittering in green fields. One of the earliest cities of men. In its day its ziggurats rose high as falcon’s flight and the scent of its spice markets drifted on the winds as far as Uruk and the sea. ... Then the river changed its course; the land went dry. The people grew thin and cruel; their temples toppled into dust, and they and their past were utterly forgotten. Except by spirits such as me. And, naturally — whenever their gold lust overcame their fears —by magicians too."
