Escape from an Ancient Civilization Ch 130

Chapter 130

“I’ll do it.”

Medeus gently took the princess’s hands away. As she quietly stepped back, the height Nataek had lowered himself to out of consideration returned to its original level.

Nataek watched closely as Medeus tied the knots for him. Throughout the movements of his hands, Medeus didn’t say a word. The instant Nataek caught those pale eyes flick toward him, instinct understood in a single second: he’d ruffled the man’s temper again.

Now Nataek knew clearly how to soothe Medeus’s anger and in what direction to move. So he added, almost playfully, “If you’re doing it anyway, please tie it nicely.”

At those words, Medeus’s displeasure melted away at once, and Nataek exhaled in quiet relief. Plainly, Medeus was more delicate than he had imagined.

Nataek tilted his chin slightly to make tying easier, and over the broad shoulder he met the princess’s eyes. She offered a soft smile and turned to chat with the Soothsayer.

It struck him that when they had first met in Delam, he and the princess had stood as slave and master—yet now it felt as if the roles had reversed. People’s fortunes truly could not be foretold.

The salesmanship training did not take long. Though parts of the Soothsayer’s lecture felt dubious, his patter was undeniably a strength Nataek lacked. Watching the Soothsayer’s performance as a merchant, Nataek learned the trader’s distinctive cadence, practiced persistence, and imprinted each mannerism in his mind.

After about five nights, Nataek gathered the key figures from each city: himself and Medeus, who would depart as spies; the princess of Delam; the lord of Umma; the Soothsayer; the Ur noble who would provide the closest intelligence; and, binding them all together, Kish’s Samuagon.

A secret meeting of seven also provided the chance to arrange an audience between the Ur noble and Kish’s ensi.

Samuagon was puzzled. “Lion of Inanna, why forbid inviting the nobles and priests on so important a day? To hold council with so few? The more voices gathered, the wider the insight.”

It was the expected question. Nataek replied evenly, “This concerns a spy mission. Though unlikely, any mishap must be minimized.”

“What mishap do you fear?”

“That word of Kish sending spies might leak to the Guti.”

Ideally, he would have kept the mission itself entirely secret. But ignorant nobles, soldiers, or priests might try to persuade Samuagon to launch a full expedition to Ur instead. Hence openly acknowledging the spy mission, while reserving details, would actually help prevent a premature war push.

“It is not that Kish’s loyalty is doubted,” Nataek continued. “But caution never harms. Those present are sufficient to discuss particulars. Moreover, Inanna’s revelation and favor are as good as bestowed on Samuagon himself; your decision, ensi, matters more than any other.”

With a well‑honed lie, Nataek lifted Samuagon to the clouds. The ruler’s cheeks swelled with pleased pride.

“Indeed. The Lion of Inanna speaks truly. Inanna’s favor guards Kish—and me!”

Perhaps such confidence was needed to become a sovereign. Nataek barely suppressed a smile.

The planning began in earnest. Nataek laid out the preparations thus far, and when he finished, Pumarsin, the noble of Ur, spoke first.

“Fortunately—or perhaps not—Ur is not a city famed for commerce. There is no large, organized damgar guild. So if you enter as merchants, few will find it odd; most will simply assume you’re new traders.”

Samuagon nodded. “The Guti’s hunger for wealth is known across these lands. No cover suits spies better than the status of damgar.”

Pumarsin added, “Furthermore, one of my retainers remains in Ur. If you speak my name at his family’s tavern, you can receive small assistance.”

“Is this retainer trustworthy?”

“He is brother to the attendant who freed me. Those who risked their lives to help me flee will not betray me now.”

Samuagon hummed. “Such loyalty does not spring from a light heart. Very well. Lion of Inanna—and Hero of Inanna!”

“Yes.”

Nataek stepped forward, Medeus at his side.

“If the place he names proves safe, send a letter to Kish at once,” Samuagon ordered. “I leave to you the judgment of whether it can serve as our communications hub.”

Nataek approved of the ensi’s flexibility.

The plan was set, agreement secured—everything flowed smoothly. Yet Nataek did not forget that this was the path to conquering the final city, where difficulty would be highest. He refused to let his guard down, even as night fell once more.

As soon as the secret council ended, Medeus led a kunga away into the darkness. When asked where he was going, he offered no clear destination—only that he would survey the market and its surroundings.

What was he doing out this late?

Well past the hour of sleep, Medeus had not returned. Uneasy, Nataek could not sleep. He finally stepped outside and perched on a rock beyond the wall to gaze at the sky. Around his neck hung a strange pendant—the one Pumarsin had given him after the afternoon meeting.

“If you show this to the tavern keeper, he will surely believe you,” Pumarsin had said.

“What is it?”

“A necklace my wife and I exchanged as a token.”

The crowded design was immediately recognizable: overlapping crests of two houses, carved together. Remembering Medeus’s words about such things had startled Nataek.

“Is it alright to give this to me? Isn’t it precious?”

“Because it is what I value most, it is the surest token of trust. Please accept it.”

“Wouldn’t your wife be angry?”

Pumarsin had offered a hollow smile.

“My wife… was killed by the Guti while protecting me.”

“I… I’m sorry. I—”

“There’s no need. I’m alright. Like the faith engraved on this pendant, she is always with me. I believe I reached Kish safely thanks to her watching over me. She was wise. If this can help reclaim Ur, she would be the happiest of all. So please—take it.”

Nataek clenched the engraved token, lifting his fist to eye level to study it. He tried to imagine what it felt like to hand over a keepsake no different from a relic of one’s beloved. He could not grasp it. If someone precious to him died protecting him…

Suddenly, Medeus’s face flashed through his mind. Startled, Nataek shook his head hard.

“Insane. What a rotten thought—bad luck.”

He slapped his cheeks lightly and, perhaps because of that stray thought, began to worry about Medeus not returning so late.

“Why isn’t that bastard back yet…”

As he tucked the necklace back under his clothes—

Clop, clop—

Hoofbeats. Not far away, Medeus appeared, leading the kunga by the reins. But his face, when he saw Nataek, was ashen. He flung the reins aside and ran toward him. Nataek jumped up, just as alarmed.

“Teresi.”

Nataek rose awkwardly. “Medeus—what’s wrong? What happened?”

“Why… why are you out here like this?”

Nataek tilted his head, reading his eyes. It didn’t seem anything had happened. Then… what was he worried about? Me? I was just sitting here, looking at the stars.

While they watched each other, the kunga wandered off until a servant in the distance caught its reins. Nataek gently took Medeus’s wrist.

“I was only watching the stars while waiting for you. Nothing happened. I wasn’t going anywhere. Why were you so late?”

The tension finally left Medeus’s gaze.

He thought I was going to leave somewhere.

Nataek gestured toward the rock where he’d been sitting. “If you like, shall we rest here a bit and go back together?”

Medeus looked at the broad stone and agreed. With two grown men seated side by side, there was no space left to spare. For a while, they sat in silence. Nataek broke it first.

“Do you have the pendant?”

“The one you entrusted to me?”

“Yes. Is it in the chamber?”

Medeus drew a cord from his breast, the pendant hanging from it. “No. I keep it with me. Why? Do you want it back?”

“No, not that. May I see it for a moment?”

Medeus slipped it from his neck and handed it over without protest. Taking it, Nataek began tracing Anu’s symbol upon the pendant with his forefinger.

“Even when offered a new one, he refused… He must have truly loved this,” Nataek murmured.

“Not the bracelet itself—but the promise within,” Medeus had once told him.

“Promise?”

“Here—you see the family crests? When lovers overlap their crests on such tokens, it’s a belief that they can always be together. As good as a vow witnessed by the gods.”

It was one of Mesopotamia’s old superstitions he’d learned from Medeus. Not a verified rite like a blessing, but facing the harsh campaign ahead in Ur, Nataek felt the urge to grasp even at straws.

“After the council, when you went to the market, the Ur noble gave me a necklace. Said the tavern keeper would trust me if I showed it.”

Medeus watched quietly as Nataek worked.

“The crests were overlaid like this. He believed that because of that token, his wife was with him.”

The Sumerians of Sununki did not believe in an afterlife, yet even they trusted this superstition that etched a lover’s heart into a symbol. Nataek wanted to anchor even the slightest hope.

“If he was right, then by engraving Inanna’s symbol and Anu’s together like this, neither of us will lose the other. We must go to Ur soon—better to do everything we can.”

A fleeting smile touched Medeus’s lips. “In that case, we must do it properly.”