Semerket learned of the deception the next morning when Marduk introduced him to a merchant at the river’s edge. The man, a wineseller, had agreed to escort them all the way to Babylon, Marduk told him. “And here is our transport,” he announced with a flourish, indicating a vessel floating a few cubits away in the stagnant marsh water. Semerket’s eyes widened. The thing — it could hardly be called a boat — was made of skins stretched over branches. Perfectly round, possessing no stern or bow, it resembled nothing so much as a gigantic floating disc. Straw covered its insides, on top of which the merchant had piled hundreds of clay wine jars. Its other occupant was a donkey, delicately nibbling the straw. “You don’t mean that this thing is what I paid good gold to sail in?” said Semerket. Marduk fixed him with a flat eye. “What’s wrong with it?” “There’s an ass in it, for one thing!” “My lord,” Marduk said, taking him aside and whispering, “when you’re in a foreign country, it’s very rude to mock the local customs.”