Chapter Six

But this handsome and noble prince showed no pity; rather, he seemed quite pleased to see the stranger woman trembling and weeping in fear.

Ignoring the torch held before Inanna’s face, he spoke with interest: “I once heard Master Labaru mention that beyond the Lebanese forests, past Assyria and Babylon, lies a land further east that even he has never reached. According to the royal archives of Harappa (modern-day India), beyond a treacherous mountain and across a rushing red-yellow river, there exists a country renowned for producing the most exquisite fabrics in the world.”

Hazaz and Luka clearly had not expected the prince to bring this up, and Inanna’s heart raced wildly at the mention.

The prince studied Inanna’s face and continued uncertainly, “Harappa’s records mention a country to their east, a place we have never set foot. A nation capable of crafting magnificent bronze vessels, brewing fine wine, and herding cattle and sheep. They produce fabrics lighter than feathers, worth any sum, yet impossible to procure elsewhere. Its people are small in stature, with ivory skin, black hair and eyes, nimble hands and feet, and clever minds.”

If the torch had not been held before her face, Inanna might have leapt up and shouted, “Prince, your knowledge is vast; thank you for praising the people of the Celestial Empire!”

General Hazaz scrutinized Inanna’s face and murmured, “Prince, could this be the one Master Labaru spoke of—the person who came from the easternmost country to ours?”

“Perhaps only Master Labaru himself can confirm,” the prince said, settling onto the solitary stone bench inside the room and pondering for a moment before continuing, “Look at her attire and accessories—they differ greatly from those found along both shores of the Great Green Sea (the Mediterranean). She likely comes from a distant land. Yet it makes no sense for a lone woman to traverse so many nations alone. She has not uttered a sound; could it be that she is mute, sold here as a foreign slave by merchants?”

This reasoning seemed plausible, even Hazaz and Luka nodded in agreement.

Inanna recalled overhearing about the underground fortress and the homing pigeons outside, and realizing the prince’s suspicion that she was mute—and thus unable to divulge secrets—she resolved to keep silent. If she posed no risk of leaking information, perhaps she would be spared.

With that thought, she looked up at the three men who had subdued her with a pleading, innocent expression—maybe being a compliant, obedient mute could earn her mercy.

The prince, raised among royalty and accustomed to dealing with scheming nobles and cunning ministers, noticed the fleeting gleam of cunning delight in Inanna’s sharp black-and-white eyes. Yet weary from the journey and worried for his sister, impatience stirred in his heart.

With a nod, he gestured for them to release the woman and instructed Luka, “This woman is quite agile. Had she not been so hungry, she might have lasted several more moves against you. Go fetch some bread.”

Once freed, Inanna scrambled with hands and feet into the farthest corner, watching the strange men who had appeared suddenly in the dead of night.

Aside from the prince, whose noble bearing was unmistakable, stood two attendants—one an elderly man with sharp hawk-like eyes that never left Inanna’s every move, as if ready to snap her neck at the slightest provocation; the other a slender youth with brown hair tied back, dressed in a coarse short tunic and cloak, exposing bare thighs in the cold night without any sign of undergarments, a sight that momentarily dazzled Inanna.

The only exit was guarded by armored soldiers wielding swords, leaving Inanna’s only possible escape the tiny hollow where she had hidden earlier.

But unless she braced herself for a desperate leap that risked death, it was futile.

The bare-thighed youth returned shortly, carrying a cloth bundle and approached Inanna. With no choice, she shrank further into the corner until the cool Swiss Army knife tucked in her pocket pressed against her waist, reminding her of a weapon that could wound but not kill.

If things turned dire, she resolved to fight with everything she had.

Her elbow pressed against her side, and to her surprise, the youth merely glanced disinterestedly at her dirt-streaked face and curled posture, then dropped the cloth bundle before her.

The bundle stirred a cloud of dust as it hit the ground, catching the dim firelight to reveal white flatbreads gleaming like gold.

At the sight of real food, Inanna’s head spun. Ignoring who had given it or its safety, her hungry stomach eagerly claimed it. She snatched the bread, dusted off the dirt, and shoved it into her mouth.

The bread was plain in appearance but freshly baked over the fire, crisp and fragrant at the edges, soft and sweet inside with a faint honey aroma. Her stomach responded with unprecedented hunger; two breads vanished in moments, though she choked and struggled, she dared not waste a crumb.

Luka watched impassively, silently allowing Inanna to approach the broken clay pot that had betrayed her, where she greedily drank the remaining water.

Her thoughts were simple: even if this was her last meal before death, she would not starve. To have strength was to preserve hope.

Seeing her regain some vigor and no longer slumped weakly, the prince ordered Luka, “Try again!”

Having survived the previous ambush, Inanna knew she had no chance if unprepared. The youth before her had grown up in these mountains, moving swiftly like a forest creature. She was weaker and could only rely on surprise and finding a gap in the room to break through.

Before she could think further, Luka’s blade slashed horizontally—not a mere feint. Even if she surrendered with hands raised, her neck would be cut, painting the ceiling with her blood.

Timing perfectly, Inanna dodged under the blade, crouched low, and with all her might wrapped her arms around Luka’s waist, using her body to force him to the ground.

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