''The Judgement of Maat'' Chapter 2
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Ezio closed the book he had been reading since early this evening and yawned. The library was dark and had been so for hours, when everyone else had gone to bed one after the other. The Creed's impressive underground fortress was cold, silent. The noises from the city above were muffled by 50 feet of earth and stone, and the labyrinth guarding the only entrance hindered outsiders from finding the hideout by mistake. Only the Assassins knew their way through its many dead ends and traps. The Creed's underground network was an enormous place containing everything they needed but the young man still felt like he was in a prison as there were no windows and his uncle had strictly forbidden him to go out. Tired and bored after reading for hours in the light of just a few candles, he stretched out his upper body over the long polished table in front of him, face down on the smooth surface. The movement of his muscles made the bandaged wound over his ribs throb in pain.

Right. That would be why uncle Mario doesn't want me to go out on missions yet.

Four days before, Ezio had gotten in a fight with a few too many corrupt guards working for the Templars. The fight ended up being more public than desirable and one of his adversaries got in a lucky hit. Still lying on the table, Ezio balled his hands into fists at the memory. He had let his defenses down, jeopardized the mission and Mario had been furious. With good reason. The assassin stood up and brought the book with him back to one of the large shelves that covered three of the four walls from floor to ceiling. He yawned again and put the book back in place, then remarked a small rectangular irregularity on the underside of the shelf above. Curious, he pushed it. After a soft click the whole shelf swung away from the wall. Behind the books was a small dark room containing only one object, covered by a faded red cloth full of dust and cobwebs. Ezio picked it up, carried it to the table and into the candlelight without bothering to close the secret room behind him.

He dragged the cloth off the object. A scale of silver, egyptian by the look of it. The assassin passed a hand through the long stands of his dark brown hair and caressed the cold metal, admiring the finely crafted details. He was especially fond of the beautiful face of a woman engraved in the middle. He poked it and to his great surprise, the face came to life under his fingers. The eyes and mouth opened, and from between the lips escaped a thick odorless grey smoke. The smoke floated in the air and gathered on the polished floor a few feet from where Ezio stood. It seemed to take shape, a human shape which became more and more solid. The eyes and mouth closed and the smoke stopped.

''Ma che?'' Whispered the assassin.

A few paces from him lay a man. He was stretched out on the floor, his back to Ezio and was either asleep or unconscious. Closing in and kneeling beside him, Ezio observed that other was dressed in a familiar way with a long white hooded robe, a thick leather belt, a red sash and leather boots. The Italian's trained eyes remarked at once where the secret weapons the man carried were hidden, and although the newcomer's equipment was different from his, Ezio was not in doubt that he belonged to the Creed. Hesitating at first, he touched the stranger's shoulder, swung him over to his back and removed the hood covering his face. He was young, about the same age as him or perhaps a couple of years older. His eyes were closed and his lips were slightly apart, bearing a vertical scar identical to Ezio's in the exact same place. Intrigued, the young man touched his own scar and wondered how such a coincidence was possible.

The other's hair was light brown and cut short, his features those of a determined man of action and his skin was tanned golden by the sun. His left hand lacked most of the ring finger, something Ezio recognized as the sacrifice the use of the hidden blade required in the old days. Suddenly, the assassin's eyes snapped open and the hand with the severed finger grabbed the front of Ezio's tunic. The mechanism at the man's right arm clicked, and Ezio felt the sharp edge of a well-known blade push against his throat. But for once he was the one at its mercy, not the one wielding it. He found himself starring into cold grey eyes.

''Where am I? Who are you?'' Growled the other.

The two stared at eachother for a couple of seconds before Ezio answered calmly:

''You're in Italy and my name is Ezio Auditore.''

The man pushed himself up to a seated position, not easing his grip on the Italian.

''Which year is it?''

''1484.''

The grey eyes widened a bit. He retracted the blade and let go of Ezio's tunic.

''Look,'' the younger said, ''judging from your clothes and weapons, I see that you belong to the Creed. Yet you seem different.''

The other scoffed, looking him up and down sarcastically.

''You belong to the Creed too? You are either lying or incompetent. You let yourself be grabbed like nothing.''

His remark stung and it was Ezio's turn to squeeze the man's shoulders, shaking him roughly.

''Shut up! My abilities are none of your buisness, bastardo! Who are you anyway, and why do you come from this strange scale?''

The other scoffed again:

''I am Altair. I got trapped into this thing.''

Ezio scanned his face, incredulous.

''That would explain why you seem different,'' he mumbled after a moment, ''and that would also explain why you treat me like an idiota...'' A teasing grin stretched his lips and he added: ''...but not why you're wearing novice robes.''

''You little...''

Ezio stood up before Altair got the chance to grab him again.

''So, Altair.''

''You do not believe me.'' The other grumbled, also standing up.

''That's not it. I am just wondering what I will make of you until tomorrow morning...''

The brown eyes wandered to the secret room, which was still open. Altair followed his gaze and the Italian's grin grew wider, uncovering white teeth.

''What? Nononono, I'm not going in the...''

Unfortunately for him, Ezio had forseen the difficulty and the Italian's hard fist connected with his jaw without warning. The Arab's head snapped back and his body fell limp to the floor. Ezio gripped the unconscious man under the arms and dragged him over the floor, muttering between his teeth:

''He is going to be pissed at me in the morning.''

He unceremoniously propped Altair back against the wall, closed the shelves and went to bed.


Early the next day Ezio walked into the library, candle in hand. The young man found the button under the shelf, pressed it and stepped aside to allow the shelves to unlock. Apparently, he was not far enough away. Altair threw himself at him as soon as the door opened, a hand tightening around the Italian's throat and shoving him down back first into the floor.

''Whoopsies,'' smiled the youngest, ''someone is cranky. Ouch, my ribs...'' He added when Altair's knee accidentally pushed into his side.

''I'm going to kill you so dead...'' The other spat, grey eyes shooting lightnings at the man under him, who despite being advantageless at that moment was rather enjoying himself.

Ezio decided to push things a bit further:

''You are going to kill me dead, and then?''

Altair leaned forward, snarling.

''I'm going to wipe that annoying little smile off that stupid face of yours first.''

''Hey! Whose face is stupid? Watch your mouth!''

Ezio's grin was gone.

''Seriously boys.'' A voice said from the other end of the room. ''Knock it off.''

Altair looked up and Ezio tipped his head backwards. In the door opening stood Mario Auditore, tall and strong with a heavy book tucked underneath his arm.

''Uncle!'' Ezio pushed Altair off him. ''You came!''

''Of course, I came.'' The middle-aged man replied. ''Your message sounded as if you had stumbled upon something rather curious and intresting.''

He pointed a large finger at Altair who looked confused. ''This is him?''

Ezio nodded. His uncle sat himself at the long table before the Scale and opened the old book.

''I found something in here.'' He said, browsing through the large amount of yellowed pages. ''I think it can shed some light upon what we're dealing with. Ah, here we are.''

The page the book was opened at was illustrated with the painting of a woman in white, a feather stuck in her golden headpiece.

''That's her.'' Altair said, looking over Ezio's shoulder.

''As I thought.'' Mario read out loud: ''One of our world's most mysterious magical devices is the 'Scale of Maat', which was lost at the time of Christ. It is believed that the disappearance of the Scale is tied with Christendom taking over other religions, a time where magical pagan devices were destroyed so that their origins never could be proven. Many sources claim that the Scale of Maat survived. In ancient egyptian belief, the goddess Maat was the goddess of justice and judgement. Using the Scale, she would measure the weight of a heart against that of her Feather. The owner of the heart was allowed to pass into the next world if he or she was free from sin, for the heart of a person without sin would weigh less than Maat's Feather. However, if the owner had lived a sinful life, the heart would be heavier than the Feather. The demon goddess Ammit would then rise from her fiery pit and eat the heart, dragging the owner into the underworld.''

Ezio shrugged:

''That was not very helpful. He's neither in heaven nor hell, he is here! And alive too!''

''Believe me, being stuck here with you is nothing I ever wished for.'' Altair snarled.

''Silence, the both of you! There is more. Usually, the ones judged by Maat are the dead, but the Scale renders the contact between the living and the goddess possible. Once the Feather is placed upon the Scale by a living, he or she will be brought before Maat and judged. In those cases, the soul is measured, not the heart. It is said that the goddess can offer those she feels can better themselves another chance. Transcending time is not a problem for a deity possessing her powers, and if the judged living manages his or her betterment, the soul is given back.''

Mario closed the book and pointed a finger at the Scale:

''Now, if this is not the one I'm looking at, I am willing to be transformed into a pair of pettipants.'' He turned to Altair. ''My guess is that you placed the Feather on the plate.''

''Yes. Maat promised to give me my soul back if I straightened up some... flaws of mine. I lived my life without doing so and she gave me yet another chance. She brought my youth back and put me into a deep sleep until the 'moment was right'.''

Mario was nodding while the Arab spoke, his arms crossed over his chest. Ezio looked to his uncle.

''Don't tell me you believe him! Right, he has a myth to back up his story, but he could be anyone!''

''There is one way to find out.'' Mario said.

He asked the Arab questions from the Codex, to which Altair answered flawlessly. Mario finally clapped his hands into his lap.

''I'm satisfied.'' He said to Ezio. ''The answers are found in the pages we have collected, and only me, you and Leonardo are familiar with their content.''

''But Altair's body was found!''

''Anyone could have been burried in his stead.''

The young man gave up, sighing heavily, defeated. Mario stood up, taking the book in one hand and the Scale of Maat in the other.

''Since there is no way we can send him back to his own time,'' he said, ''he might as well stay here and help us.''

''In this time and place, you are the leader.'' Altair replied, bowing his head in respect. ''I will do as you command.''

Mario nodded again.

''Good. Ezio, show him where to stay. If you need me, I'll be in my office.''

He went out, leaving the two others in the library.

''Come on.'' Ezio mumbled and nudged Altair's shoulder, urging him forward.

The room Altair would stay in was at the end of the large hallway that ran through the whole hideout. At one end were the sleeping quarters, at the other was the large staircase that lead to the second floor, where the offices and Mario's apartments were. The whole way between the staircase and the sleeping quarters were doors that lead to the library, the kitchen, the storing rooms, the armoury and the training grounds. The Italian lead the other down the hallway and opened a door to a small corridor with a wooden floor. On both sides were other doors leading to individual bedrooms. The one Altair was given was small but clean. In a corner stood a bed, in another were a simple table and a chair. Ezio placed the candle he held on the table.

''You'll be sleeping here.'' He said, his back half turned to Altair. ''And by the way, about our little fight, you know... I know I punched you, but you kneed my wound when you jumped at me and you called me stupid. Are we somewhat... even?''

The Arab sighed in annoyance. He was not in the mood for this, but slapped the Italian at the back of the head nevertheless.

''Ow! What was that for?''

''Now we're even.''