The Assassin's Sister
Chapter 1 – Prologue - Snow Blind
It was cold.
The snow was deep. So deep, in places, that she was nearly to her waist in the drifts.
This was the road to Masyaf, she had been told. She had to find it. It would be her only safety now.
She sighed.
Her body hurt. Her feet hurt. Her back hurt. She was wholly unused to walking for so many miles so. However, she was not sure if the pains were from walking so much, the cold, or from the child she carried.
She could hardly see before her, but she needed to press on. She knew if she stopped, she would die here, in the snow, unfriended, with no one to mourn her, and no one to look for her. Her body would be buried in snow and not found until the thaw. She closed her eyes a moment, willing such thoughts from her mind.
Just then she heard something. She turned her head trying to hear it again.
It was nothing more than the sigh of the wind.
The snow was piling deeper and the wind was moving it about. She had long since lost the feeling in her feet, hands, legs, and arms, but she knew to stop moving was certain death. So, she pressed onward, still not fully sure of the way.
Suddenly, something wrapped about her, between her breasts and the swell of the child, propelling her backwards, startling her. She found herself on her bottom, blinking upwards at the form beside her, whose arm was still about her. She could feel the warmth from the form as it leaned close to her.
"What are you doing?" It hissed, a distinct male voice and Syrian at that. "You almost went over the cliff you little fool."
She blinked and he pointed as the snow swirled, revealing the treacherous narrow canyon near them. She was only a few feet from the edge she realized.
She shivered, almost violently at the thought of falling into the canyon. It would have been quicker than freezing to death, assuming she died on the stones far below. If not, she would have been in agony until death took her either from blood loss or exposure. Neither were appealing.
The form bent close again. "Allah! You are nearly frozen." He put an arm around her back. He was strong and muscled. "Come. You need warmth. Any would parish out here. Umar!" He barked turning his head. It was the first time she could see his face clearly, well under his hood anyway. He was wearing a wrap about his mouth and nose and he had something over his eyes that had small slits in them to see out of.
She blinked as he helped her to her feet. Umar? She knew that name. Her lips quivered as a second man ducked down and froze looking at her.
"Sitt!" He gasped.
"Umar." She greeted, her voice sounding strained, even to her own ears.
He pulled her into his embrace, almost roughly, under the cloak he wore. He had his arms about her. Strong and powerful, he held her to him, trying to warm her with his own heat, feeling how cold she was.
"You know her brother?" The first asked.
"I do." Umar nodded. He began to lead her in a different direction. As they moved, phantom shapes of buildings came into view, materializing from the blizzard like wraiths. Umar kept the girl against his body, half dragging, half carrying her along. She shivered against him. His hand lifted to her face, even through the glove he wore he could feel how cold she was. It would be a wonder if she did not suffer more than hypothermia. Perhaps frostbite or a fever. He prayed not, but it was a possibility.
"Stay with me, Sitt." He murmured as he bent close. Umar was a tall man, nearly six feet to her slight and small, barely five. "Not long now and you will be warm."
"So cold, Umar." She whispered, teeth shaking. Her feet felt like the stones of the canyon. She paused, blinking before she dropped so alarmingly fast into the snow, neither man had time to catch her.
Fareem had been following behind, their progress slow with the girl.
"Fareem!" Umar barked to the other as he dropped to his knees, the wind carrying his voice away. He lifted the girl into his arms, startled to see, as he shifted her more against him, the swell of her belly. He swallowed and pulled his cloak about them.
Fareem came to his side. He too had seen. "So not just one innocent, but two." He said.
"Yes." Umar said. "So, it would seem." He agreed. "I take responsibility for both." He said. Fareem himself had a wife in the keep who would soon deliver their second child. Umar's first wife had died in childbirth, but had given him Altair, his son.
"Her clothing looks Saracen." Fareem said. "What if it is a trap?"
"She would not harm us brother."
"Any follower of Saladin would find us the enemy."
"Sitt is not a common Saracen." Umar said. "And the child she bears is mine."
Fareem paused. "What?" He blinked as Umar continued walking. "Are you so certain? It has been months since you were in Damascus."
"I will tell you all soon enough, but first I must care for her and the child within her." Umar said.
Though his voice was calm, Umar was not. His mind raced as they walked into the fortress and then into the keep. Umar made his way to his quarters, larger than most who lived there, like Fareem, being a master assassin. He sent Fareem for a healer and for Al Mualim.
Umar laid her on the bed, his bed, as he moved and built a fire to warm the room. He quickly moved, pulling off his cloak, face wrap, snow goggles, and boots, pulling on his soft shoes before collecting dry clothing for her. He quickly stripped her, pausing a moment as he remembered her writhing under him in pleasure months ago. He dismissed those thoughts for now as he dressed her in loose clothing that were his own. She swam in them, but they were warm and dry at least.
He sat beside her looking at her dreamy, red blotched face. She had a fever. He lifted an icy foot to his lap, inspecting it. He did not have the glossy white look of digits with frostbite, but they were so cold. He rubbed it, trying to draw the heat from her head down to her lower limbs. He did the same for the other.
He was looking at her hand, seeing that at least two of her fingers bore the tell-tale signs of frostbite. He prayed she would be able to keep them, but the healer would have to watch and gauge that. He lifted a hand to her dark hair.
"You are safe now, Sitt." He murmured. "I will keep you safe." He tucked her into the blankets and gently caressed the hand he held absently to let her know he was there, somewhere in the depths of her consciousness. He could tell that she now slept. Her breathing had become easier.
How did she come to be here? They had been lovers six months ago while he sought information in Damascus. She had provided him with the perfect way to follow the guards about the royal palace. He assumed she worked there for she moved freely in the gardens. The city gardens were where he had met her. Strange that a noblewoman was unguarded, but he learned that she had a talent for moving about away from the guards.
However, the day they parted company, he followed her to the palace and witnessed a guard bowing to her and calling her princess when he tried to bar her entrance due to some public unrest that day. It was this reason Umar had followed her, to keep her safe. A Princess meant she was a member of Saladin's household and a close family member. A daughter? A sister? Widowed sister-in-law perhaps?
He had meant to speak to her again, but his tasks had not taken him back to the Saracen capital.
Still, the girl had been intelligent, clever, beautiful, and helpful. She provided him shelter when he was away from the Bureau at night and twice had distracted the guards in order for him to move a body and hide.
Now she had nearly died in a blizzard to come to Masyaf. Why ever for? She would have had a good life within the Saracen harem. Like the Ottomans, the harem was a place of learning for women, not just a palace of sex for the sultan. It was also home to any female relations to Saladin. As a princess, she would have had a life of privilege though it was clear she rejected some of that life by how she acted with him. Still, she was here, away from her family. She had risked all to come. Her life and that of her child.
Saladin was not known for being a merciful man to those who crossed him. His elder sister had been raped and killed by the Templars under the command of the King of Jerusalem. His justice had been swift for those involved. A sister's betrayal? She had run from death, bought of a guard and escaped. Perhaps he was not of a mind to kill her outright? If he loved her so much, but could not stand that she had a child in her belly out of marriage, he had likely exiled her to be on her own. This would keep innocent blood off his hands, though he would be in his rights as sultan to take her life. At times this was better than exile.
Without money, a place, a home, or a friend, such victims often turned to petty crime or prostitution just to keep food in their bellies. They it was only a matter of time before death came to them, and often before their time.
But she had made it to Masyaf. Perhaps, though angry, Saladin had provided her with a little money to find somewhere. Likely he was not expecting her to travel far. Perhaps he expected her to return and beg him to take her back. Umar, would not allow her to return to her people. She would be safe here, among his people and his child would be welcomed.
Fareem had an interesting point. Was it his? He was the last he knew who had bedded her. Her belly looked about six months gone and she had been virgin when he had first taken her to his bed. Still, did it truly matter if the child was not his to him? He would claim it and raise it as his own. Sitt, deserved to be cared for after the help she had provided.
There was a knock.
"Enter." Umar said looking up.
The door opened to reveal Yusuf, the healer, and Al Mualim.
Umar rose to his feet, bowing his head to them wordlessly as Yusuf returned the greeting and then went to the girl to see to her.
"Mentor." Umar said softly as he came to Al Mualim's side.
Al Mualim looked at the girl in the master assassin's bed. She looked small and young in sleep. Her belly was visible in a mount under the blankets that Umar had tucked about her. "Who is she Umar?" Al Mualim asked. "Fareem said only that she had the look of a Saracen and was heavy with child."
"She is one. At least born to them." Umar said. "But she is an assassin now. She wishes to make a home here now."
Al Mualim whirled on his pupil. "That is not your judgement to make, but mine, Umar." He said sharply. He then took a breath. "Why would such a beautiful girl forsake her people to come here and nearly die in a blizzard with a child in her womb?"
Umar was about to answer when they heard something and both turned.
"I was cast out." Came a soft female voice. Hoarse, but delicate and yet there was a there was a strength behind it, like velum.
All three men looked at her as she looked at them, eyes bright with the fever she was fighting, but weary and unsure.
"Cast out?" Al Mualim asked.
The girl nodded and coughed a little. She then looked at him curiously. "You are the old man of the mountain."
Umar suppressed a smile. Clever girl.
Al Mualim nodded. "I am child. I am Al Mualim, Mentor and Master of Masyaf." He looked at Umar expectantly.
Umar took a breath. "Sitt al-Shām bint Ayyūb," he said.
Al Mualim blinked. "A daughter of Saladin here?"
"Not a daughter." The girl corrected. She coughed again and took a moment to collect herself. "I am his last sister and youngest sibling." She looked down and swallowed hard. "Until he disowned me."
"And why would he do such a thing?" Al Mualim asked.
She shook her head and moved the blanket, revealing the swell more fully.
Al Mualim nodded. "And you met Umar in his travels and then tried come be with strangers rather than your own people?"
She looked away from the one-eyed stare of the assassin leader. "At least he cares for his brothers and sisters, no matter their faults."
Al Mualim watched as the girl had a coughing attack that caused Yusuf to pull her forward and hold her as she fought for breath. He shook his head as she quieted and gently started to make a paste along with tea for her.
The Mentor looked to the window. He looked out at the blowing snow and the looming shapes of rocky crags about near them. "It is wrong to keep a man from his offspring." He turned back. "We will return you to Damascus when the storm lifts and you are well enough for travel." He moved to leave.
"But master." She said, pausing in drinking the warm liquid the healer was making her drink.
He paused and turned back. His bad eye made her uneasy, but she looked at the bowed form of Umar and then back. "The father isn't in Damascus."
"Oh?" He asked. "You need rest child. This fever has made you forget memories."
Umar took a step forward, lifting his head to look at Al Mualim. "I am the father, Mentor."
Al Mualim too a breath. "We will speak of this again soon enough. We are all in need of rest. The girl is your responsibility while she remains here, Umar. Keep her safe, out of harm, and away from our secrets."
Umar bowed as the master left.
ZzZ
For three days, the girl battled the fever. Umar did not leave her side. The coughing spells left her weakened and in need of rest. The storm would keep travel at bay anyway.
On the fourth day, her fever had broken. Umar had been sleeping in the same bed, clothed, as she was, a blanket between them, but his presence gave her comfort and she slept more soundly with him there.
Something woke him.
He looked about and ran a soft hand over her brow. The fever was gone. She slept now. She was facing him, small body tucked into a ball beside him.
He felt it again.
He blinked and his hand moved lower, down her arm, to her belly.
Her eyes opened and she smiled as he looked down in wonder as he felt it again, this time against his palm. "Is that…"
She smiled and nodded. "Our child." She whispered.
He caressed the swell. "Sitt. I will protect you. Marry you. Give this child my name. But I must know. Is there any other who could have sired it?"
She shook her head. "I have only lain with one man, Umar." She cocked her head. "You mean that. You would take me and this child even if it was not yours."
"I would." He said. "It needs a father. You need a husband."
"Will I like it here, Umar?"
He nodded and kissed her softly. "Come. We will feed you a real meal and then bring you to the Mentor. He has questions."
She nodded and moved, lifting her bulk upwards with a heave. He smiled as he came around the bed to her. He as surprisingly helpful in helping her dress in the rough spun dress of a woman of Masyaf.
Together they ate in the mess hall, ignoring the looks of the assassins about them, before he took her hand and led her to the master's study.
He knocked and then entered. "Master." He bowed.
She entered and did the same, awkwardly, but the respectful gesture was not lost of the assassin leader.
"Welcome to Masyaf, Sitt the Saracen." Al Mualim said regarding her as she straightened to look at him.
Umar smiled at her encouragingly.
"I wish to remain here, Master." She said softly.
"Do you?" Al Mualim asked. "And why should I allow you to remain here, you, the sister of an enemy?"
"Because I have no other home." She said simply. "If you throw me out as well, where will I do? Where will I have my child?"
Umar stepped forward. "Master, to removed an innocent needing aid goes against everything we stand for." He cocked his head at his mentor. "She risked her life and the life of the innocent in her womb, to come to us, to be safe here. Even if she is the sister of an enemy. It is not her fault for whom she was born to. However, she made a choice who to stand with. That should have some respect."
Al Mualim took a breath. "Wise words Umar." He looked to the girl. "Does your brother know who fathered your child?"
"No." she said.
"But you came here looking for him."
"He told me he was from Masyaf." She said. Al Mualim's eye shot up at the master assassin. She lifted a hand. "I keep my own council, Master. I assure you. My brother is a harsh man. Umar wasn't like any of the men my brother wished me to marry. He was calm, collected, loved me without judgement."
"The information you gathered. Sitt helped you then?"
Umar nodded. "Yes. In some measure."
Al Mualim stepped to him seeing the look of affection that passed between them. He lifted his hand and slapped Umar's face with the back of his hand startling the assassin and the girl both. "You should have returned to ensure the welfare of your child."
Umar blinked. "Had I known, Master, I would have."
Al Mualim grunted. "You broke a tenant of our laws. Never betray the brotherhood."
Sitt took a breath. "Yes, but he also knew I would not reveal it." She looked at the master, small, defiant, round as a pear. "Many secrets I keep from my brother. Had I been able I would have left and come without him disowning me."
"He would have looked for you." Al Mualim said.
"Perhaps." She said. "He has little time for the whims of women."
Al Mualim shook his head and then sighed. "You are safe to stay here as long as you wish under my protection. Your child will remain here, even if you choose to leave these hallowed walls. If you stay, we have knowledge for you, but know the betrayal of this knowledge has a heavy price, child."
"I have no other home now Mentor of the Assassins."
Umar touched her hand and lifted it to his lips. "You do now."
The Mentor sighed. "You will wed her by the next full moon, Umar. Your child should not be born a bastard."
"I hope to wed her sooner, Mentor."
The mentor nodded. "I will allow it and your honeymoon."
The girl gasped and then moved, embracing the mentor, startling him and Umar both. It was against protocol to touch him without permission, but after a moment, the old man relaxed and embraced her back gently before he set her back from him.
Al Mualim dismissed them.
He was not about to step between such a love match. She clearly had made her choice and well Saladin knew it. She had chosen her lover over her own family. That was why she had been exiled. A child without a father could be spirited away, but he suspected this defiant girl had stood up against him, speaking not who her lover was, but that she planned to live with him, against the sultan's wishes.
Al Mualim would have to keep her on a tight leash to make sure she never betrayed her new family this way, though it was plain enough, for now, she had the heart of an assassin.
Umar brought her back to their rooms and sat her down in a chair before the fire. "Why did you not send word?" He asked, offering her some tea before he sat down himself, regarding her.
She looked at him. "Like what? I fell pregnant. Come save me from my gilded cage."
"You were free when I knew you. To at least send a letter."
"I ran away. I was free with you. I liked it."
He sighed and reached out, patting her leg. "What a mess you made my dear."
She cracked a bitter laugh. "I was so afraid." She then took his hand, his left, the one with his ring finger removed. "Not when I am with you."
He moved and bent to kiss her, his hand against her belly as his child kicked. He broke the kiss. "Now, now, Little cub. Do not hurt your momma." He said after feeling her wince. "I will meet you soon enough."
ZzZ
There was a small knock, after Sitt slept. Umar had returned to his chair by the fire to read. He looked up as the door opened and a five-year-old came in. "Father?" the boy asked.
"Ah… Altair." Umar said smiling, speaking softly.
"Why are you whispering?" The boy asked.
"So, we do not wake your new step-mother." Umar said bending to lift the boy into his arms. He nodded to the sleeping form in the bed. He walked back to the fire and held the boy on his lap.
Altair looked at the woman sleeping in his father's bed. She was young, pretty, and had their olive coloring. Her thick dark hair was in a thick braid behind her as she lay in a loose ball about herself.
"Step-mother?"
Umar nodded. "She has your brother or sister inside her."
Altair looked at him. "Why did she eat it?"
Umar chuckled. "She did not. However, the child will come in a few short months."
"I want a brother to play with."
Umar nodded. "It is passed your bedtime, young man. In the morning, I will introduce you. You will like her. She is generous and kind."
"I always wanted a mother." Altair said, knowing his own mother had died. "Can I call her that?"
"I am sure she would love it, if you did." Umar said lying him down in his cot in the dormitory with the other boys of the order. "Goodnight, my son." He said.
Umar walked back through the halls to his rooms. He shut the door and sighed looking at the sleeping form. How much his life had changed in a very short amount of time. He would be a father again. He would have a mother for his son and coming child.
He had to admit, he was happier than he had been in several years, at least since Maud had died. He felt a calming peace about him.
Sitt would be his wife.
It was good.