Imalkit offered it the prayer Ektabr had taught her. She said, “I am Imalkit, sky-blue, hatched from a single shell. I have come to retrieve the Light of the World.”
“You have entered,” the Crown of the Abyss said, “but you may not return. A cavern may give up what it has eaten, the sea may give up what it has drowned, a forest may give up what it has trapped, but the underworld does not give up anything it takes.”
Clever Imalkit bowed her head, saying, “Our people need the Light of the World. Without it they accomplish nothing; without it they are no better than beasts. Without the Maker of Above and Below, our people will come to an end. For their sake, I cannot accept what you say.”
The Crown of the Abyss said, “Answer me this riddle. Before you seize it, you have three. After you release it, you have six.” Imalkit laughed and said, “This is not difficult to understand. The solution is an axe.”
The Crown of the Abyss said, “Answer me this riddle. It marks the end of every desert.” Imalkit laughed and said, “This is not difficult to understand. The solution is the rain.”
The Crown of the Abyss said, “Answer me this riddle. A red gazelle has been killed, its fat and meat ground into dust.” Imalkit laughed and said, “This is not difficult to understand. The solution is the zēzu plant.”15
Then the Crown of the Abyss said, “Answer me this riddle. An open eye; a closed eye; he blinks a hundred times, but even then it remains closed.”16 Imalkit laughed, but then she fell silent, for this was the one riddle she could not answer. The Crown of the Abyss turned Imalkit to stone and set her to one side, and there she stayed.
Tablet X: “The Ektabr Tablet”
translated by Audrey Camherst and Kudshayn
In the world of the living, the people waited, but Imalkit did not return. The people sat down in despair, because the trickster, the clever one, the friend of the people, was not there.
Hastu spoke, wise Hastu, clear-sighted Hastu, Hastu the šiknas. He said, “This was foreseen in a dream long ago, before your hatching. The river of Ektabr has drowned the sun. The Light of the World is in the underworld now, and unless you go to retrieve it, we will be caught in darkness forever.”
The people were outraged to hear that he was responsible. They took up their stones; they took up their clubs. But they could not bear to strike those upon whom they had depended for so long.
Ektabr was the only one left. He was the most patient of the four, and the wisest. He said, “Then I will go, if you will show me where the gate of the underworld stands.”
The people wailed at his words, but their fear of losing the sun was greater than their fear of losing Ektabr.
Hastu led Ektabr to a ravine deeper than any other. Ten leagues, eleven leagues, twelve leagues deep was this abyss; it stretched to the depths of the earth. He left him there. He descended.
He pulled his loincloth high. He painted spirals on his crest with red mud. She17 went past the gate made from reeds, bound with strips of twisted grass. She went to the gate made from the bones of issur, bound with strips of āmu skin. She knocked at it, and the lizma, the gatekeeper of the underworld, answered. It said, “What living creature seeks to enter the underworld, and why?”
She answered him with her wings spread. “I am Ektabrit,18 night-black, hatched from a single shell. I have come to retrieve the Light of the World.”
“You may enter,” the gatekeeper said, “but you may not return.” It opened the gate for her. Ektabrit entered the underworld.
She passed by the chamber of broken eggshells, the labyrinth of stone, the watchers with their eyelids torn off. She looked for her sisters, but she saw no sign of them.
She passed by the chamber stained with blood, the labyrinth of bone, the sitters with their hands pinned to the ground. She listened for her sisters, but she heard no sound from them.
She passed by the chamber awash in salt water, the labyrinth of rotting flesh, the people with their tongues torn out. She yearned for her sisters, but she did not feel their presence.
She came to the fettra that guards the deepest abyss. It snarled at her, but she had no food to give it. The fettra tore at her arms; it tore at her legs. It tore at her loincloth, dragging it low. She escaped it, bleeding.
Beyond the fettra was a tunnel. She had no torch to light the way. It became a tunnel too small for her to spread her wings. It became a tunnel too small for her to stand. She could not see, and her wings were broken by the stone,19 her crest scraped raw. He20 crawled through and found himself in the presence of the Endless Maw, the Crown of the Abyss. It had the Maker of Above and Below in a cage.
Ektabr said, “I am Ektabr, night-black, hatched from a single shell. I have come to retrieve my sister Imalkit.”21
“You have entered,” the Crown of the Abyss said, “but you may not return. A cavern may give up what it has eaten, the sea may give up what it has drowned, a forest may give up what it has trapped, but the underworld does not give up anything it takes.”
Wise Ektabr bowed his head, saying, “Our people need Imalkit. She is the cleverest of us all; she solves our problems with guile and creations no one has seen before. Without her, we will never have anything new. What may I give you, in exchange for something so precious?”
The Crown of the Abyss was intrigued. It said, “What can you offer me, that is worth something so precious?”
Ektabr took the clay of the earth and smoothed it flat. He pressed the tip of his claw into the clay, making marks. He devised a set of marks for each thing, a set of marks for each sound. With these marks he could record speech, so that other people could know his words in the days to come.
The Crown of the Abyss was pleased. It turned Imalkit from stone to flesh and said, “I will permit her to leave, for she will return to me in time.”
Cunning Imalkit bowed her head, saying, “Our people need Nahri. She is the kindest of us all; she solves our problems with generosity and cooperation. Without her, we will never work together. What may I give you, in exchange for something so precious?”
The Crown of the Abyss was intrigued. It said, “What can you offer me, that is worth something so precious?”
Imalkit took the metal of the earth and heated it. She made herself a hammer and pounded on the metal, shaping it. She wrought it into different objects, strong objects, sharp objects. With these things of metal she could make things that were not possible in clay or wood or stone, that would be of use to the people in the days to come.
The Crown of the Abyss was pleased. It turned Nahri from stone to flesh and said, “I will permit her to leave, for she will return to me in time.”
Gentle Nahri bowed her head, saying, “Our people need Samšin. She is the bravest of us all; she solves our problems with courage and honour. Without her, we will never be one people, but remain many. What may I give you, in exchange for something so precious?”
The Crown of the Abyss was intrigued. It said, “What can you offer me, that is worth something so precious?”
Nahri took the seeds of the world and put them in the ground. She watered them and tended them, clearing away weeds so that they would grow. She brought forth food of many kinds. With these plants the people would no longer be dependent on the wild, but could feed many mouths from a single field in the days to come.
The Crown of the Abyss was pleased. It turned Samšin from stone to flesh and said, “I will permit her to leave, for she will return to me in time.”