What was Lost

Prostitution Is Truly The Oldest Profession

When I awoke, it was the next day. Somehow, I had slept the entire afternoon and night away. Sometime during that, someone had kindly picked me up from my makeshift bed and transferred me onto the back of a cart being pulled along by a camel.

Stretching tiredly, I looked in front and there in the horizon, I could see buildings. Suddenly I wasn't so tired.

I jumped of the back of the camel and dashed to the front of the procession where Ura was leading with his camel.

"Is that Mitanni?" I asked, in awe of the town.

"Yes. It is part of Mitanni. The town you see is Emar. It is next to the river and thus is very lively," he looked down at me from where he was sitting.

"I hope that even when we reach the city, you may stay with us for a few suns longer. Teach the men more of your skills. They grow stronger from each teaching you give them".

I didn't even have to think about my answer.

"Yes, I would love to," I had no clue how things worked here. My best bet was to stick to Ura and the guys.

"I am glad," he smiled at me, and then looked awkward "and, uh, thank you. For the gift," it took a moment for me to understand what he was talking about-the fan.

"You're welcome," I replied, feeling awkward myself, unused to being thanked.

He opened his mouth to reply, but something, in the near distance caught my eye and I cut him off, and pointed.

"What is that?"

The thing in question, from further away had looked like just another building in the town. It was the same colour, and roughly the same shape as many of the houses as well.

The only difference was that it was not a house. Instead it was a massive rock fixture in the desert, atop of which I could make out the figure of a man laying down. Ura followed the direction of my arm and his eyes narrowed.

"That, is punishment. The man has done something to warrant being punished. Pay him no heed".

Maybe Ura, who was used to commanding thieves, and seeing such things, could leave the man alone, but I couldn't.

As we neared the outcrop of rock, Ura changed course to avoid it and the rest followed, carving a path around it. I split from them and walked towards it.

One side was a gradual slope which ended in a plateau atop which the man lay, as I now saw, naked. He was tied, not laying, on the rock in a star position, his wrists, ankles and neck tied down tightly by what seemed to be leather.

As I arrived by his side ignoring the calls from the men, I saw that the leather was soaking wet.

Confused I looked up at the sky, wondering if it had rained, only to see the blistering sun, when the truth hit me like a bullet.

The pieces fell together, and I realised that what Ura said was wrong. This was not a punishment. It was a death sentence.

The tight wet leather restraints meant that he could not move, but was still alive as he lay their under the hot desert sun. Eventually, however, the moisture in the leather would evaporate under the harsh sun, and as it was leather, the material would shrink as it dried.

Seeing as it was already tight to begin with, the end result would be a cruel, slow death as the restraints bit into the man's body, cutting off his blood circulation and chocking his neck.

How could anyone think of this? What had he done to warrant such inhumane torture?

I moved to remove the restraints, but a hand clamped over my wrist. It was Rafa.