The gods wept. Ishtar screamed, "How could you destroy my people?" Enlil was furious—but Ea shamed him. "You made the flood without reason. Punish the guilty, not the innocent." Enlil relented and granted Utnapishtim eternal life.

Enkidu agreed. But when he heard that Gilgamesh still claimed the bride-right, his new human heart burned with justice. He planted himself at the door of the wedding house, blocking the king's path.

He returned to Uruk. Urshanabi the boatman rowed him up the Euphrates. The walls of the city rose before him—kiln-fired brick, copper-banded gates, foundation terrace shining like copper. "Climb the walls of Uruk, Urshanabi. Examine the foundation terrace. Look at the baked brick—is it not the finest? Who built this? Who cut the cedar for its gate? Who laid its bricks? One man. Gilgamesh. He did not find eternal life. But he built this."

He came to the twin peaks of Mount Mashu, whose gates were guarded by scorpion-men whose terror was death. The scorpion-man saw the desperation in his eyes. "No mortal has passed this mountain. But go. The path of the sun is ahead."

That night, while he bathed in a cool spring, a serpent smelled the plant. It slithered up, swallowed the flower, and shed its skin. The serpent was young again. Gilgamesh sat down and wept.

Enkidu relented and blessed her instead.

Anu gave her the bull. It came down to Uruk—a creature whose first snort opened pits in the earth, killing two hundred men. Its second snort killed three hundred. Gilgamesh and Enkidu caught the bull by its horns. Enkidu leaped onto its back and drove his sword into the nape. Gilgamesh plunged his dagger into the heart.