Rolling the Wheel
Though they never showed it openly, many among Inanna's retainers and servants — Kara among them — found Sunya thoroughly disagreeable.
In their eyes, some obscure minor god no one had ever heard of was diminishing the dignity of their mistress. The comparison with the splendid suitors who had once flocked to Inanna's palace only made it worse.
Sunya knew perfectly well what the people around him thought. He felt not the slightest impatience over it. In truth, he hardly cared how they treated him.
But if he was to give Inanna what she wanted, he understood that he would need to roll the wheel slowly — just as he had done once before.
"This is…"
Inanna stepped out into the courtyard and caught her breath. Everyone standing nearby did the same.
"I had a little free time, so I made it. If you don't care for it, I'll take it down."
What Sunya had created was a colossal stone statue of Inanna. Every muscle, every fold of her garments — it was the living goddess cast in stone, identical down to the last detail. Beautiful and exquisitely fine, as though Inanna herself had been molded into rock, the statue stood with one foot upon a lion, spear raised high in a pose of commanding majesty. The composition alone seemed to radiate the full presence of a mighty goddess.
"You made this overnight?"
"It wasn't particularly difficult."
Delighted by the unexpected gift, Inanna circled the statue, examining it from every angle. Then she found one small point of dissatisfaction.
"Hmm. Don't the breasts look a bit large?"
"From what I've seen and felt, they seem about right."
"Honestly! What are you saying in front of people~."
Crack.
Flushed with embarrassment, Inanna slapped him across the face with her open palm. She may have meant it lightly, but the sound alone was enough to make anyone flinch. Flesh should have been torn from bone — yet Sunya only laughed softly and showed no reaction at all. The servants watching could only marvel.
"If you wouldn't mind, may I do a little work on your palace as well?"
"I don't mind. What are you planning?"
"Nothing major. I thought I'd decorate the walls and ceilings a little."
Sunya painted the palace ceilings and corridors. Mixing water into carefully prepared pigments, he dipped brushes fashioned from reed leaves and rendered the scenes that rose in his mind as fully as he could. The finished works showed Inanna receiving the adoration of all people from atop the clouds, and Inanna hurling her spear to bring a great mountain crashing down.
Ordinarily such work might have taken months or even years. But a thousand hands moved in perfect unison at Sunya's will, and the paintings were completed with remarkable speed.
"Oh my goodness!!"
"Heavens…"
"I've never seen paintings like these."
Soldiers, servants, cooks, gardeners — every person in the palace gasped at the works Sunya had painted. The technique itself drew on modern Western art, but in this age no one had ever seen images so delicate, so dynamic, so vividly three-dimensional. Sunya's paintings and sculptures were more than enough to overturn the entire paradigm of divine-age art.
"It's magnificent!"
"It's only a small talent."
"Why are you only telling me about this now?"
"It just turned out that way."
Later, when Nanna, Ningal, Utu, and others visited Inanna's palace, Sunya fired white clay tablets for them and painted upon their surfaces.
"What is this?"
"Oh! This is me and him!"
"Isn't it well done? My husband painted it."
Nanna and Ningal could not tear their eyes from the white clay tablets that held their likenesses. One showed Nanna crossing the night sky in the moon's boat, noble and serene; the other showed Ningal walking through a reed field, bathed in warm sunlight. Inanna's shoulders rose with pride at their reactions.
"For gods who live so long, it may not be especially necessary — but the thought came to me, so I painted them."
"Not at all. To think such beautiful pictures existed… Thank you for the gift!"
"Is this really me?"
Sunya did not limit his gifts to his parents-in-law alone.
"Why would you give me something like this…"
Utu stared at the clay tablet depicting him sitting in judgment in the underworld and could not finish his sentence. Wariness toward Sunya still lingered in his eyes, yet he was clearly moved.
"It is a gift."
"A gift… you say…?"
"Yes. I should have said this sooner, but I knew that you, my brother-in-law, had been watching over me from afar."
"…"
"I do not know why you find me so distasteful. But if you harbor any hard feelings toward me, I hope this might ease them even a little."
"…I will thank you for now. It truly is an excellent painting."
After Utu departed, Sunya's renown spread still farther. Gods came to Inanna's palace in numbers, seeking his paintings and statues.
"It's been some time."
After several months, Sunya returned to the village at the foot of the mountain beside Mount Ebih.
"Sage — no, O God. What business brings you to this village?"
When the villagers dropped to their knees to prostrate themselves, Sunya stopped them. Word that he was in truth a god, and that he had married Inanna, had long since swept through them like wildfire.
"Please don't. It's uncomfortable when it's only me."
"Yes!"
Sunya deliberately veiled his divinity so they would not feel burdened. Then he brought out paintings and sculptures. The paintings depicted the villagers who had been sacrificed to the barbarians some time before.
"Come to think of it, I've received a great deal from you all and given nothing in return. I'm sorry it's only this, but please accept them."
"These are… paintings?"
"Yes. You may not need them, but I thought they might serve well enough as decoration."
"No. They are wonderful. To think you could create statues and paintings like these. Truly marvelous."
To his surprise, the people of the foothill village loved Sunya's gifts. Enede, who had been Kubatum's elder sister, was especially moved by the painting of herself and the one of Kubatum.
"I went to the underworld, but I was not able to meet Miss Kubatum."
"Thank you, Sage. A gift like this is more than enough. And please don't take it so hard. It may take time, but the day will come when we meet again."
The way she accepted reality without drowning in grief or rage left a deep impression on Sunya.
"…You are closer to a Buddha than I am, Miss Enede."
Wearing a bitter smile, Sunya left the village.
Nor was that all. Through Namtar, who had come up to the surface world, Sunya delivered paintings and statues of the underworld's beings — including Ereshkigal herself.
"Thank you. Her Majesty will be grateful as well."
"You flatter me. Compared to what I have received, it is nothing."
Across the underworld, the divine realm, and the human world alike, Sunya's fame as a painter and sculptor grew by the day. Before long, people around him had begun calling him something like the god of art and painting.
"How do you paint like that? If you don't mind, would you teach me?"
Even Enki, who had shown a quiet hostility toward Sunya, took an interest in his art.
"Of course. If you wish, I will teach you as much as you like."
Perhaps because he was a god of water, Enki lived up to his reputation and absorbed Sunya's techniques at remarkable speed. In less than a month he could paint at roughly the same level. He returned home, fired pure white clay tablets, and at once began rendering the images he had first conceived.
"Hey! What the hell is this!!"
Ninhursag, who had come to Enki's palace for a consultation, recoiled in horror.
"I learned it, so I have to use it. Not bad, right? I think I did pretty well."
"You perverted bastard! How dare you call that—"
What Enki had painted were the naked bodies of women. Every pose was suggestive; the particular purpose was blatantly obvious. One might well call them the origin of erotic art.
Looking at her own image drawn in lewd postures with lewd expressions, Ninhursag's body trembled with rage and shame.
"There are plenty of other bitches in here too. Hmm!! You really want to die, don't you?! Huh?!"
"Ghk—! W-well, I d-did put the most effort into drawing you, so c-cut me a little slack—"
As Ninhursag choked him, Enki stammered out a hasty defense. And as he said, the paintings of Ninhursag had indeed received the greatest care. The other women were shown alone — legs spread, hips raised — but Ninhursag was depicted in direct sexual congress with Enki himself: being penetrated, receiving him inside her. Among them was even a scene of her deflowering. And every face was twisted into an expression that would, in later ages, be called ahegao.
"Simply painting the past as it was can't be called art. I added a little beautification. Don't the memories come flooding back?"
"You horny son of a bitch!! When did I ever make a face like that, you insane bastard!!"
Ninhursag locked her arm around Enki's throat — a technique that would one day be known as the rear naked choke.