Damon was obsessed. He could not decide what Lan Gau Fang's eyes  reminded him of, to the point where he could not shake free of thinking about them. No one had  occupied his mind for this great length of time before. 

Damon was different from the majority of Han's men. Most had been altered as children, in the Chinese fashion.

Captuted in battle at the age of eighteen, he had long passed the callow emergence e of manhood. He had fully matured. He had already experienced nightly emission; had grown body hair; his voice had deepened, His type of emasculation was only at the life-giving source; he could function under the right circumstanecs, however, he would never have children. His size, already beyond impressive for a youth, made him perfect as a military slave, handling the most back-breaking duties. His defiant attitude, unbowed despite punishment after punishment, had found him on the slave block, where Han's buyers spotted him, bought him, freed him. Then Han offered him a position he could not refuse as his  bodyguard.

Midday, the thing Gau Fang's eyes reminded him of  hit him, and the flash of recognition made his mouth water. He strode to his tent to grabbed a sack and headed to the kitchen yurt.

Dawa Tuya was just brushing flour from her ha]nds when the sun noticably dimmed. She turned to look out the door but it seemed to be completely swallowed up. No, blocked. By a massive and somewhat deliciously put-together man.

"Excuse me, but could you come all the way in? You are blocking the light... It got so dark in here, I rhought we were having an eclipse."

He bowed sheepishly. :Are  you Lan Dawa Tuya? <ay I speak to you privately?"

"Oh no!" She exclaimed. She saw the big baby blush beet red and  rushed over to stop him as he turned away.

"No, no, no! Don't be shy. We've JUST been indundated with special requests all day. It's like the love gods have openned an office in this caravan, ever  since the Qian and Lan contingents have  Sit, , sit. There you go. Have some tea. Now, let's start over over...
First,  name..."

"Damon."

"Where are you from, Damon?"

He remained mute and the older woman smiled.

" Alright. I can see this will be like pulling teeth. Let's see....
You are a former slave. You are a eunuch, altered rather late  considering your size and midday shadow on your face, so I would say a former soldier as well.  And you are now a freed man. And with a name like Damon, I will hazard a guess and say you are Icenian."

His jaw dropped.

"How...how...?"

I"I know Han, first of all. You could not have fallen into better company. Secondly, my father related old rales from far away every night. The Legend of Damon and Pythias was one of them. I am right about Icenia am I not...That one was a pure stab in the dark."

She saw him relax a bit, shoulders less tense.

"The last request was for candied Hawthorne. The fellow said her lips were red like that. The one before was white sticky buns. The lady said her object of interest had perfect white teeth and she wanted to see them take the first bite from an equally white bun. Love tokens...quite popular today. What, little Damon, can I create for you?"

"He...his eyes...

Baklava..."

BAKLAVA???"

He held out his sack. "I have the ingredients."

Dawa Tuya, after catching her breath. Repeated. "Baklava...do you have ANY idea how LONG that takes?"

He nodded, hope bringing light to the depths if his own black irises.

"His eyes are color of baklava, right out of the oven, as my mother first poured the honey syrup over it. And the way  they have brown and green flecks that gleam..,"

"Like the walnuts and pistachios mixed in the honey..."

" You understand?"

"Dear child. I have expressed all the love of my long life through the things I have cooked and baked. Of course I understand. Your mother showed you the same love, did she not?"

She saw a tear trace down his cheek.

"OF course she did. A boy doesn't grow like you did without a Mother's good cooking. Hurry along. When you get back, you can tell me about her kitchen. And I collect recipes, you know!"

He wiped his eyes and smiled shyly.

"Alright. Go and ask Han if I can borrow you for the afternoon.  You are going to help me with this every step of the way. Show me what is in the sack."

Out tumbled very precious stuff indeed. A large jar of honey. A packet if finely ground flour, And nuts, both walnuts and pistachios. Spices, aromatic and rich.

"Can you  crack nuts?"

Damon reached out and grabbed a walnut, and she heard a loud crunch. When he openned his hand the shell was shattered and the nut lay exposed.

"Then hurry and get you afternoon freed up. You have a lot of shelling ahead of you."

He ran off and she called out,

"Bolormaa, could you bring me the largest mixing bowl? I need to start the dough for baklava."

"BAKLAVA??"

"That's what I said, 'Baklava'.

Keep the spits going and supervise the rest of the dinner. Have  someone check on the latest milk and make sure it is fully fermented. These people go though it like water."

As she began to sift the flour she listened to the raucous noises that flooded the full camp. She scented the smoke from the cooking pit.

"Li Fu, have the men add more wood to the sheep pit. Not hot enough and make sure they turn the meat a quarter turn."

" Yes, Dawa Tuya!"

This caravan, she thought to herself, is like no other. Here it had already brought a lost man from thousands of miles away, looking for what all were searching for. It was in short supply, in a land that often needlessly crushed a flower before inhaling  it's unique and amazing scent.

Acceptance, A chance to succeed. The space to find love and respect.

A place to call home.

A/N... icenia is ancient Greece. Slaves from all over the world were a commodity on the old Spice Routes and Silk Road. They came from everywhere. China and Greece were aware of each other very early on.