There was nothing he could do while the Raven was watching him, so he remembered. It began with an effort to recall everything the wizards had told him about the assassination, but anger turned that memory back to the master of the Bureau in Tiderot (1), and then further back to the Bureau back home. The anger was unbidden and unwelcome, but the emotion rose when Altair thought about the lies he had been told, and the exploitation he had suffered.
It was easy to be angry with the wizards, what with the leather straightjacket, the hard stone floor, and the black bird's not-so-comic interest. The Raven was obviously a guard's familiar. Not one of the ordinary guards, who were almost zombies, but a magician who had likely joined the guards after Altair had escaped the first time. And killed six of the servile jailors, as best he could recollect, before the wizards had appeared and knocked him out.
Altair woke in a new cell, laying on his back, bound once more in a straightjacket, with the Raven peering down at him from thirty feet overhead. The bird jerked its head back and forth, and twisted its neck to focus one eye and then the other on the bound assassin. Altair wished he had kept his eyes closed, so the wizard's familiar would not know he was awake, but it was too late. So he breathed slowly and deeply, eyed the new cell for a few seconds in his peripheral vision, then slowly closed his eyes, pretending to return to sleep.
The wizards had imprisoned him when he returned from killing the werebear. They had put him in a straightjacket, taken his precious weapons along with all his belongings, and tossed him in a small cell. During this first imprisonment, Altair had wormed his way out of the jacket, wormed his way through the bars of the first cell, and then went to recover his gear. The goalers and the guards tried to take him, but Altair killed four of them, and disguised himself as a guard. He chose not to escape without his weapons, prizes taken from Prince Hegel two months earlier, and tried to find a way deeper into the castle. He killed two more guards before the wizards arrived.
This time he was being watched. Altair, his eyes closed, began his trip down memory lane by wondering why he was still alive. What could the wizards want with him, what could they want from him? And so he tried to remember everything the wizard Hogarth had told him. Hogarth was the minister to the sorcerer-king Opak, and that led naturally to trying to remember everything that Skooner had told him about the sorcerer-king Opak and the kingdom of Hermouth.
Skooner was the master of the assassin's Bureau in Tiderot.
Perhaps the master in Tiderot had been taking advantage of the young refugee from Florence (2). Skooner had admitted that the Bureau knew nothing about Hermouth, and that Altair's employment by the wizards was an opportunity to send a spy into the mysterious kingdom.
Laying still, pretending to sleep on the cold stone floor, Altair began to wonder about his apprenticeship, whether it was the habit of older assassins to take advantage of the younger.
And so at last, casting suspicions back in time, Altair questioned the motives of Lumar.
Back in Florence Lumar trained the young assassins in fighting with blades, and he looked the role. His hair was grey, his face was scarred, and his body was wiry. He trained the youngsters to fight off-balance, clinging to a wall or hanging from a rope, to fight without breathing, and to fight from the ground after being stunned with a blow to the head. Altair always met the older man's expectations.
So it was not a complete surprise when Lumar asked for Altair as his assistant for a "commission."
But remembering the mission, and remembering Lumar's actions from the perspective of six month's travails, everything seemed different. Altair had been happy when the master called him in to meet with Lumar, feeling like the older man had chosen him for advancement. Feeling a bit like Lumar was his mentor, his guide to the profession, a guide taking a personal interest in a promising youngster.
Altair was fresh-faced and obviously young, and furthermore had shown great ability at disguises and stealth. Lumar was sinister and threatening, and stood little chance of hiding his dangerous character from close inspection. To accomplish the commission Lumar had to enter the city of Pelia, to pass through the city gates. Only from inside the city walls would they be close enough to manage the approach, the killing, and the withdrawal in a few hours.
It seemed obvious that the young assassin's serious contribution was to smuggle Lumar's equipment into the city.
Altair played the role of a young sculptor, carrying several statuettes for a meeting with a wealthy patron. He suggested the role himself because he had trained a little with his artist mother, and because the bulky artwork could easily hide the assassin's equipment.
Lumar had chosen an inn as the base for the night time mission, and "William Western" took a suite for the meeting with his wealthy patron "Escobar." Entering the city as a wealthy merchant was an easy pose for the older assassin.
The mission was successful, and regardless of Lumar's attitude toward the younger assassin a much finer lesson than any training session back at the Bureau in Florence. They walked like cats over a dozen rooftops and climbed like spiders up the wall of their victim's tower. Lumar had Altair pry the latch on the window to gain entry, and then had Altair lay in wait at the interior door while the older man searched out the target.
By luck and preparation there was no guard awake, and the killing was silent.
Lumar left all his equipment in William Western's rooms. The next day Altair left Pelia alone, and once out on the road the young assassin affected the guise of a vagabond peasant.
Suspicion of the fighting instructor came hard to Altair, because the older man had died in his arms a month later, tasking Altair with his last breath to report the destruction of the Bureau in Florence.
After the successful commission Altair's studies focused on poison and magic. His status, especially with the other four apprentices, seemed greatly improved, though it may have been that his ego was greatly enlarged. Lumar seemed friendly, the grim fighting instructor volunteered a salute whenever he saw Altair.
And after the mission Altair's life outside the Bureau also improved, principly because of Lumar's generosity. Young, charming, and at home in Florence, Altair repaid every past act of kindness or friendship with interest. His family was well placed and fairly well known, and when the younger son Altair offered his companionship it was never refused.
He bought presents for his parents and his older brother. He paid off the debts of two childhood friends. He paid for the entertainment of the apprentices and the city marshalls they drank with, and he was free with gratuities at the eatery they frequented. He even gave some coins to the servants at the Bureau, though secretly so as not to offend old Bernard who supervised the buildings.
Altair was casually known to many, but well known to less than a dozen people. As a child he had conceived of the ambition to join the assassin's Bureau (his father dealt regularly with the secretive society), and his older brother's reputation with the sword made Altair an attractive recruit. So at an early age Altair had practiced keeping his own council, and learned to shun gossips and braggarts. As a young apprentice he said nothing of his membership in the Bureau to his small circle of friends, but made no secret of his desire for secrecy and discretion.
As an adolescent Altair formed a a childhood imitation of the Bureau. They studied the other, more flagrant youth gangs in Florence, and had great fun learning about the hypocrisy and hidden patronage in the city.
One of his childhood comrades had ended up as a marshall in the Bureau's neighborhood, a connection that duplicated the "understanding" between the senior assassins and the city's leading policemen. So Altair knew something bad was in the offing.
Four weeks after he returned from Pelia the Ducal ruler of Florence was killed by the entourage of Prince Hegel. They surprised the Duke, who allowed the Prince and all of his companions to stay in the castle. The word spread quickly through the city, and Altair sought out his childhood friend for inside information.
Everyone was guessing that the killing was a coup authorized by the Emperor, for Prince Hegel took up residence and took up control of the city bureaucracies. Altair's childhood friend Samuel had more sinister information: he and all his comrades had been ordered to gather their belongings and assemble for relocation that very evening, less than twenty-four hours after the killing!
And that day several companies of the Emperor's elite soldiers appeared and encamped outside the city walls, as if the Emperor or the Prince expected some resistance. Or perhaps the Prince had taken Florence on his own, and the Emperor was sending loyal forces to discipline his son.
In the wee hours of the night the Prince's forces attacked the Bureau.
Lumar took charge of the young apprentice assassins, making certain they were armed, and leading them to the dormitory basement. There, as many of them had guessed, the Bureau had built a tunnel, an escape from the city. Unhappily a squad of soldiers was patrolling right at the exit, and a short, deadly fight ensued.
Lumar was late to the fight. His arrival with the apprentices was soon enough for some small measure of revenge, and all the surviving soldiers were killed, eventually. Lumar could not engage all of them, so a pair of soldiers had the advantage of the young assassins, flanking them as they emerged from the tunnel. Altair was well warned, and emerged with his crossbow ready, shot one and knifed the other, and survived to join Lumar in the fight.
Lumar's swordplay was not good enough to kill five soldiers without taking injury. As Altair came to his aid the older man was stabbed in the chest, piercing his lung. He stayed on his feet for a moment to kill one more soldier, and Altair seized the last one from behind and worked his sword past the gorget to cut his throat.
Altair knelt to help the fighting instructor.
"You must flee," Lumar said through the blood gathering in his mouth. Spitting, he pushed at Altair's hands, "I am done, do not bother.
"Take the Seal. Take it to the Bureau in Tiderot."
Altair left him dying in the dark. When he looked back he saw torches bobbing and weaving as more of the Emperor's soldiers arrived to examine the scene.
[For more on the Tale of Altair, visit the Grandpa Zero's web site]