The small boys dashed through the market, brown novice robes flapping around their little legs as they ran like mad.
"Come back here! Guards!"
The merchants' shout was lost in the crowd, as were the boys; they were young but they still knew how to disappear. The two continued running, ducking and weaving madly through the tangle of legs, knocking into people and leaving a path of angry traders behind them.
One of the boys slowed but the other grabbed his wrist and pulled him along as they shoved their way through the crowd. The pair struggled through the gaggle of merchants and housewives, eventually making it out of the crowded bazaar. The taller of the two jumped into a cart full of hay, pulling the other boy in after him.
They lay there for long minutes, hearts pounding, as they strained to listen for the heavy footfalls of the guards. The taller boy lifted his head from the hay, nose twitching as the dust tickled it, and peered through the gaps; his pounding heart skipped a beat when he saw a reflection off metal shining through the hay. He forced the smaller boy's head further down into the hay, ready to protect him, as he loosened his small knife in its sheath and hoped like hell he could do some damage before he was skewered.
He waited, but the metal didn't move; he carefully moved his head a little higher up, and saw that what he'd taken to be the helmet of a guard was in fact simply a polished pot hanging from the side of a market stall.
"Altaïr let me up!"
The taller boy realised he was grinding his friends' head into the wood and released him, muttering an apology as he shifted around slightly to try and get off of the pouch he was lying on.
The pair stayed where they were until they were sure there were no guards coming and then Altaïr popped out of the hay, much to the surprise of several passers-by. He turned and helped his smaller friend out of the place of concealment, setting him on his feet and then brushing him down carefully.
"Malik… do you still have the prize?"
The smaller boy nodded, a hand going to the front of his novice robes where a small bulge gave away their afternoons' activities. Altaïr gave a small smile; he'd often heard about it from the older boys, the ones who were allowed out to watch the masters at their work from the shadows.
"There! Those are the boys that stole it!"
The shout made them both drain of colour; clearly, the merchant wasn't going to give up his lost product without a fight. The boys turned to see him pointing at them and a pair of guards heading for them. Altaïr didn't hesitate; he grabbed Malik's hand and ran, cursing his own complacency. He knew how much their rare prize was worth, and yet he'd still allowed himself to believe that they would be safe.
The guards chased the boys, calling for them to stop running, but Altaïr knew it would be terrible if they were caught. He scanned around for a way up to the rooftops as he ran, pulling Malik along behind him, and finally spotted the way; boxes, conveniently stacked, with beams and poles leading up to an area lower than the rest.
Without breaking stride the boy dashed at the pile, leaping with the agility of a cat from box to beam to pole to rooftop. His friend followed, and the two scrambled up the side of the next building as the guards stumbled over the boxes and fell flat on their faces. The boys stopped and turned to laugh at the guards, who swore at the brats and looked around for rocks to throw; the boys disappeared from sight, heading over the nearby rooftops as they looked for somewhere safer to hide.
They found refuge in a small rooftop garden; the plants were well-tended but there was no one there for the moment. Altaïr checked over the edge of the wall one last time; there was no one around. The sun was about to set and he knew they would be chastised for staying out after curfew, but right then he couldn't care less.
"Ugh…!"
The boy looked at his friend; their stolen package was in his hands and it was oozing slightly. Hesitantly Altaïr took the package and opened it a little, the foreign smell washing over him. He poked it, and curiously examined the substance that came away with his finger; he glanced quickly at his partner in crime, who was staring at him with huge eyes.
"Here goes…"
Carefully he lifted his fingers to his lips and licked them, tasting for the first time true deliciousness. Malik watched him before stealing a finger-length of his own, licking it and making a face.
"It's a bit bitter."
Altaïr nodded.
"Good, though. It might be a little better on fruit."
The two continued to pick at the package interior, eating their fill of the strange product. Suddenly light footfalls behind them made them both look up and turn quickly; a young girl about their age stared at them, mouth slightly open, with a pot of water in her hands. Altaïr was up in a flash, dragging Malik to his feet, and they were over the edge of the wall in seconds, fleeing across the rooftops.
Behind them, the girl set down her pot of water and picked up their package. Delicately she sniffed it, and refolded it before tucking it into her waist pouch with a small laugh at the boys' expense: they'd left several months' wages worth of chocolate behind, much to her advantage.