Chapter 39

While the Prince and Inanna were busy in the bedchamber, no one knew that Carol, having slipped away, had heroically accomplished several major feats in the short time between her escape and her capture.

For instance, she snuck into the dungeons where the other Egyptian soldiers were held, delivered a crowbar to them, and urged them to seize the chance to break out. Within the sprawling city of Assyria, she managed to run into Unas, who was scouting enemy lines, and instructed him to notify General Hars outside the city walls to block the tributary of the Tigris River. This would cause the water to back up and flood the city. By daybreak, the Egyptian troops could strike from within and without to rescue Memphis and herself from Ar-An's clutches.

Except for the Egyptians, everyone else remained in the dark. Inanna, meanwhile, struggled with her slipping veils while wrestling with an ancient lock from three millennia ago. As early as a thousand years prior, the Egyptians had mastered the use of wooden pins of varying lengths to create the earliest known locks. These required a key with matching pins to unlock—a primitive prototype of modern locking mechanisms.

Inanna pulled a steel wire from the underwire of her bodice and began picking the lock. She listened to the faint clicking inside. Since springs had not yet been invented in this era, a novice like Inanna, relying only on rumors and techniques she had heard, managed to open the lock through sheer, tireless persistence.

Izmir sat upright, just as he had when he arrived, watching Inanna hunched at his feet, struggling with the shackles using a strange, thin, curved white object. His gaze shifted to the red bodice discarded on the floor, recalling that it had once been in his possession, yet neither he nor General Hazas had suspected anything peculiar about it. It seemed this "Sukamu" held many secrets. His eyes returned to Inanna.

He had to correct his earlier assessment; this woman was actually quite candid. Her veil slipped further, revealing skin as fair and plump as a lamb’s, with the crests of her chest nearly exposed. She reminded him of his favorite dish: a young lamb roasted over a slow fire with pomegranate juice, so tender it melted into a fragrant, creamy richness upon the tongue. Inanna, sensing his gaze, glared at him furiously while wiping sweat from her brow and pulling her veil back up.

By then, the Assyrian palace was in chaos because of Carol. When the sun rose, Ar-An looked at his capital, now a muddy ruin, and beat his chest in frustration, wishing he could throttle that "little hen" to death.

He regretted that night in the valley; no matter how uninspired the experience, he should have finished the deed instead of playing games with Izmir. He regretted that after capturing the Daughter of the Nile, he had merely stripped her clothes to prevent her escape, while he spent his days obsessing over the petite, shapely backside of the woman Izmir favored.

He regretted holding that banquet even more. After his ear was bitten, he had angrily agreed to Memphis’s challenge. This could hardly be blamed on him, as Ar-An did not know that Carol had been impossibly lucky during her short escape. Otherwise, with his own devious plans, there was no way Memphis could have won without any weapons.

But the greatest regret of all was that some scoundrel had placed poisonous flowers in his bedchamber—small, brightly colored blooms as fresh as new lilies, but lethal. Just as Ar-An was finally ready to lead his army into the Egyptian camp, the Daughter of the Nile had suddenly started rolling on the bed, her mouth stuffed with petals. Ar-An felt the bitter frustration of a team that had fought tooth and nail to qualify for the World Cup, only to be kicked home before they could even sleep in the hotel bed.

His masculinity, which had been forced into arousal through countless indignities, and the brain cells he had sacrificed for his schemes—all wasted. He had offended his allies to kidnap the Prince, and he had missed out on two beautiful women!

The lights in the Assyrian palace burned all night. Inanna unlocked the Prince’s left shackle, tossed the wire aside, and sat by the bed to rest her eyes. Once the first lock was opened and the pattern understood, the next would be easier.

However, the guards would not change shifts until midnight. Now was not the time to escape. Inanna glanced at the Prince, who was watching her. She cleared her throat and said, "After the guards change and finish their inspection, we will begin our escape. For now, you must bear with it." She paused, adding, "Prince, you have seen my skills; I trust you will consider my suggestion."

Izmir did not answer. Instead, he pulled his garment off his left shoulder and tossed a bottle of green paste to Inanna. "Clean up the mess you made."

Inanna glanced at the wound. She knew it was her own doing. Izmir’s shoulder was tightly wrapped in linen; when she unwound it, she revealed a shocking puncture wound—a hole passing clean through his shoulder. Although it had closed, the scab remained red and fragile, as if it might split at any moment. She dipped her finger into the paste and gently applied it. His robe had fallen to his waist, and from her angle, she could see his back covered in old, faint scars. When she touched the wound, his back muscles twitched. In the dim candlelight, the strong, firm curve of his waist was clearly visible.

Time passed in silence. Suddenly, voices were heard outside the door. A moment later, the chains were unlocked, and a bearded captain entered with three guards.

***

Just as the commotion started outside, Izmir had already pulled off Inanna’s veil and gathered her into his arms, leaving her back exposed to their sight. Fearful of being fully revealed, she dared not move. The guards only saw the Hittite prince indulging in pleasure with the night’s most popular dancer, one foot still shackled while the other was hidden beneath him. Being men, they understood the temptation, though given Izmir’s dire situation, they found it somewhat contemptible—a man in ruin still seeking pleasure.

They wanted to move closer, but Izmir moved his waist slowly. Inanna, caught off guard behind her thin undergarments, let out a small, stifled cry. The sound was melodic and alluring, and even though Izmir was only acting, he found himself tempted. His "heavy artillery" was ready to fire at the gates, but Inanna poked his wound, causing him to stiffen and retreat.

To the stunned soldiers, the silver-haired, handsome man holding a petite, alluring woman was an overwhelming temptation. Had they not been on guard duty, they would have rushed off to find their own lovers. Seeing his goal achieved, Izmir’s face darkened, and he barked, "Get out!"

The soldiers, being of low rank, could not withstand such royal authority and scurried away in a panic.

Once the door closed, Inanna pushed the Prince away and scrambled back, wrapping herself up again. Unfortunately, the veil could not cover everything, and it was quite translucent. Izmir was not kind enough to offer his own clothes. She kept telling herself this was a matter of necessity—like actors filming a scene. They were escaping for their lives, and sacrifices were inevitable.

Even so, Inanna decided to keep her distance. Since breaking the "deadlock" that night, she felt an aggressive, mature masculinity radiating from him. To an ancient man like Izmir, everything might be natural, but Inanna just wanted him gone.

She climbed off the bed and searched through her balled-up bodice, finding her knife and two pieces of aluminum foil. She would never entrust her last line of defense to anyone untrustworthy, like Saru. Even if she had to hide them in her bodice like a Western woman, she would not hand them over.

She composed herself and said with a touch of spite, "Prince, we cannot go out through the main gate. We have to dig a hole in the wall. As for the other lock, I will help you with it later. I hope you will keep your distance for now."

Izmir looked at her deeply but said nothing, which she took as consent. After all, without Inanna, he could not move, but that didn't mean he just sat on the bed. Under Inanna’s watchful eye, he picked up the tattered bodice and began studying it.

Inanna was mortified when he asked, "This is clearly a woman’s undergarment; why does it contain tools for picking locks?"

"You mean this?" Inanna decided to retaliate for being groped. "This has many benefits. It is a divine object from the Goddess Ishtar that I obtained by chance. Besides enhancing a woman’s chest and picking locks, if you wrap it around your head, you receive the Goddess’s blessing. Prince, would you like to try?"

Izmir did not believe her, and Inanna, finding no further amusement, turned her back to pull out her Swiss Army knife. She flipped out the corkscrew and began drilling into the mud bricks. Once the spiral wire was fully embedded, she used the starch-based adhesive she had scraped loose earlier to easily pry a brick out.

Just as she was panting and piling up a small mound of dirt and a dozen bricks, a voice sounded behind her, nearly making her fall into the hole she had dug. Izmir was standing right behind her.

He had watched for some time, clearly fascinated by her strange little gadgets and her sweat-slicked back—the stripes of white and black reminded him of the zebras from the black slaves' homeland.

Seeing her finally stop to rest, he said, "Let me see what is in your hand."

Inanna was shocked, but when she saw him holding another steel wire, she understood everything. She realized the Prince was terrifyingly intelligent. He had traveled many lands and was broad-minded; he did not treat the words of "future travelers" as nonsense. He observed silently and accepted new things without difficulty, immediately putting them to use. Her little tricks must have looked ridiculous in his eyes.

She dropped her professional, service-industry smile and retorted bluntly, "This is my dowry."

At least Inanna knew that in this era, even if women lacked social status, their private economic status was guaranteed. Behind closed doors, making a husband kneel on chickpeas was not impossible.

***

Izmir dismissed the thought, but when Inanna asked where her bodice was, he looked at the roaring hearth and said something that made her want to vomit blood: "You said it was a gift from the Goddess, so I burned it to return it to her."

Without waiting for her protest, he asked, "This hole is too small."

"That is all you get, Your Highness," Inanna thought about writing a letter to Queen Aises to ask how she maintained her chest to prevent premature sagging. "The mud bricks can only bear so much weight; any more and it will collapse..."

Before she could finish, Izmir grabbed her and tossed her out, jumping after her. The garden soil was soft, but Inanna was unprepared and landed in an unsightly heap, sprawled across a cluster of dahlias.

Saru had been waiting below, dressed as an Assyrian soldier. He handed Inanna a dress, watching as she pulled it on and tucked her precious items back into her waistband.

When Saru looked up, his gaze met Izmir’s. He knew this man had the same intentions as he did and immediately took the offensive: "What a coincidence, Imil—oh, I mean Prince Izmir—to meet you in the Assyrian palace!"

Izmir ignored him and asked, "Why is there no one in the garden?"

Saru gossiped, "They have all gone to the front courtyard. Ar-An is about to duel Memphis—two thousand against one! Ar-An is truly shameless! But it’s not surprising. The Daughter of the Nile ate poisonous flowers last night, and since he didn't get what he wanted, the Egyptian King is going to bear the brunt of his rage!"

Inanna glanced at Izmir, seeing not a hint of heartache on his face. Carol was, after all, someone he had liked, yet he seemed entirely indifferent. Indeed, to these men, if a woman could not bring power, she had no value—especially now that Izmir could barely save himself.

So, men were from Mars and women from Venus; their thoughts would never be on the same dimension. Izmir only cared about how they would get out.

Saru smirked and handed a thin, sheer dress to Izmir: "Prince Izmir, I can't take you out through the main gates like this. I'm afraid you'll have to trouble yourself to change into this!"