“They called him wise and able scribe, counselor of all Assyria. From as early as he could remember, Ahiqar had decided to be a prudent, upright man. And so he became. He saw no higher goal in life than to be the king’s counselor. A goal he duly reached.

“Everything must correspond to the established order. And so, for Ahiqar, it did, but for one shortcoming: he didn’t have children. That was all it took to undermine this order. There was, however, his sister’s son, Nadin. Ahiqar decided to raise the boy himself, impressing him with the principles that had ruled his own life. Not that Ahiqar had invented these principles, just tested and experimented them his life long. Practicing and accepting those principles would render Nadin as similar as possible to Ahiqar, who had chosen him.

“One day Ahiqar told the king he was feeling old and presented Nadin as his successor. The king agreed. Ahiqar could retire at last. He imagined Nadin would always act on his behalf. Instead, Nadin spoke ill of him to the king. He wanted Ahiqar dead and his memory defiled. He wanted his principles rubbed out and forgotten.

“The king believed him. He ordered that Ahiqar be killed and entrusted the task to three officers. They found him walking in the vineyards. Ahiqar guessed at once that these three officers, appearing unannounced, had come to kill him. But Ahiqar had once saved one of these men when he was about to be executed. He reminded him of this and the officer decided to shelter him in his house. But they couldn’t go back to the king without having killed someone. The officer thought of a servant of his, a eunuch, and said to his companions: ‘Kill him!’ Later the king realized he had been deceived by Nadin. Ahiqar’s honor was restored. And his story was on everyone’s lips.”

“Ever since I can remember, I have heard talk of the destinies. I have never stopped thinking of them. One day I asked one of the Apkallu what they are. He said: ‘Necessity has no meaning. Destiny has meaning. The destinies are an order with meaning superimposed, point by point, step by step, on necessity.’ Then he slid back into the waters.”

“Destiny bites like a dog and binds like a tight gown. Everyone knew that saying. The Anunnaki took care to fix the destinies, engaging in long ceremonies to do so. And the kings of the earth, who imitated the Anunnaki, knew that their lives depended on those ceremonies. No one was so innocent as to imagine that destiny didn’t bite. But they wanted destiny to exist, and wanted it to be fixed, for each occasion, in every place, for every king, for every year, for everybody. Better to live bound tight by destiny than abandoned to the turbulence of chance. That was the real, never mentioned evil, the ultimate horror, for men as for gods.”

X

One morning, as if speaking to himself, Sindbad said: