Chapter 1

Basima looked warily around at the land as she urged her horse forward while leading the line of camels that were loaded with trade goods. She followed her father and tried not to show fear but it was difficult since this was one of the more dangerous routes and they were a target… a nice big one. There were many dangers on the road to Damascus but being a merchant trader… it seemed to be the most hazardous of occupations. It was easy if you could afford reputable guards but Basima and her father couldn't afford that and they could not afford to not go to Damas.

Basima was the only child of her parents, the Nassar family. Her father had wanted a son but got a daughter to raise on his own since her mother died of fever two days after giving birth to her. He never blamed her for that but it was clear that he loved her mother dearly. He didn't begrudge her either in terms of an education. He taught her the merchant trade since she was very intelligent and could haggle with the best of them. He even taught her the basics of self-defense even though she disliked anything that was related to sword fighting though she was pretty good with a blade. She was very much like the delicate flower that men wanted but the big turn off was that she was outspoken at times.

The trip to Damascus would set them up for a better future. Her father was even entertaining the possibility of staying in that city and making his trade in the suqs that littered the various districts. His reasoning was because trade wasn't doing so well in their village; they were small fry compared to a couple of bigger merchants and there was the increase of banditry with the oncoming of the crusades and the war for the Holy Land. The Christian dogs claimed that it was theirs while the Muslims said different but that didn't really bother Basima all that much since she had little to no interest in politics. She was aware of it though since it did affect their livelihood.

The bandits were what made Basima nervous. Her and her father had very valuable trade goods that they had acquired as well as substantial money. It was essentially all that they had. She prayed to Allah that they would have a safe journey; that he would guide them through the paths that were traversed by thieves. It was not to be so.

She knew who they were the moment they showed their faces. It was the group of bandits that the stories had been told of them robbing the merchant caravans. They were part of the merchant king Tamir's group. They robbed the caravans and stole the good for Tamir who sold them at exorbitant prices for people in desperate need and they left the witnesses for dead. If there were women present then… It was something that Basima didn't want to think about but she had a very good idea of what would happen.

They charged their group and pulled up alongside her and her father. Basima watched as her father pulled his blade and start to fight. She had to as well considering the scum they were and she was not dressed like a man but wearing hijab as was proper. She pulled out her sword and kicked her horse to urge the beast to follow. She managed to get in a few swipes but they were hardly effective. She was pulled from her horse kicking and screaming. Her father she heard cursing them out. They were in trouble.

The leader was grinning as he rode up on his horse while Basima and her father were brought to him. He grinned as they were shoved to the ground and Basima landed with a grunt, the ends of her scarf touching the desert sands. He dismounted and went to stand in front of them after looking over the lead camel and the goods that were packed on its back. He then kneeled to inspect Basima, reaching out and touching her face. He took pleasure in that she was trembling when he touched her.

"Don't you touch her!"

Basima gasped a small sob when the leader gave her father a hard backhand across the face. She watched as the leader grabbed her father's tunic and said, "I'll do what I like when I like… and she will fetch a mighty fine price to some noble looking for an unspoiled slave."

"Over my dead body."

Basima didn't make a sound. She had gotten the warning look from her father that she was to behave like the demure little girl. She wondered what good that would do now since they had seen her pull out a sword and start to fight. She bit back the sobs that were threatening to come forth and prayed that nothing horrible would come of this.

"Alright then," the leader said with a mocking nod. He took out his sword and struck with a quick movement.

Basima couldn't help but scream out loud when she saw her father run through with the blade. She struggled against her captors until she was grabbed hard by the chin by the leader and she let out a whimper. She was told to shut up or he would kill her after having his way with her. She could see the intent in his eyes and felt her body tremble in fear and she struggled when he pulled on her dress.

He didn't get any further than that for he stumbled forward with a stunned look on his face. Basima moved to let him fall and gasped silently at the arrow protruding from his back. She heard the shouts of the bandits and looked around. She saw more fall from arrows as they shouted trying to figure out where they were coming from. She looked around and spotted a lone figure in the distance and holding a bow.

The robes were a dark grey and they flapped as the breeze of the day blew through. They revealed equally grey trousers and black boots. A crimson sash was tied around the waist and the torso held weaponry and leather protective wear. A sword hung at the figure's side and the hood was pulled low to reveal only the mouth. The rest of the face was hidden but it was clear that the person could see outward.

Basima watched as her rescuer continued to shoot their bow while advancing towards the site. When the distance was closed, out came the sword. Basima watched as she scuttled to be by her father. She had managed to pick up her own sword just in case but her rescuer seemed to have things well under control as they danced with the remaining bandits until all but one was lying on the ground. The remaining one was trying to get away on the leader's horse but the rescuer didn't seem perturbed by it as they put away the sword and brought back up the bow and arrow. Basima couldn't help but say, "It's too far."

The rescuer said nothing but drew back after notching the arrow. With careful aim the arrow was released and it flew through the air. It struck the bandit forcing him to fall off the horse. Basima thought he was dead but was surprised when the body moved. He was still alive!

Basima was staring at the distance when her hands were released. She flew to her father but she knew he was dead. She couldn't help but call out to him, "Abba."

Basima realized she was being stared at and looked up to see the hooded rescuer looking down at her. She couldn't see the face but the posture looked like one of aggression. She gasped a little and was prepared to defend herself. If this person was another bandit, she would let them take everything. What was the point to this now?

It was a daunting few minutes until the hooded figure turned in the direction of the still alive bandit and walked in towards them. Basima felt her jaw open in surprise and closed it as she watched her rescuer kneel beside the downed bandit. It appeared that they were conversing after her rescuer broke the shaft of the arrow. That had to be painful but Basima didn't care. The dog killed her father so she had no sympathy for them as she cradled her father's head.

The conversation didn't last long. Basima didn't make a sound as she watched her rescuer end the bandit's life with a blade that had been hidden previously. She did blink when the hooded rescuer reached out and closed the eyes of the bandit and appeared to be saying something to them. She watched as her rescuer stood and walked back over towards her and came to a stop. She had to blink when she heard, "Gather your horses and camels and their horses. I will see to him."

Basima felt compelled to obey even though she normally would have protested. The voice was low but it had authority to it and she went to do her rescuer's bidding while the stranger began to wrap up her father's body. She gathered up the horses, hers, her father's and the bandits and checked the camels and brought them over and was doubly surprised when the stranger lifted her father up on his horse and secured him saying, "So he receives proper burial."

Basima was quiet but nodded as she checked everything herself. She almost jumped when she heard a high pitched whistle. She turned to see a black horse trotting over the hill like it was going for a stroll. It came to a stop near the stranger giving a slight toss of its head and a whinny. Basima watched as her rescuer stroked the animal's nose before climbing onto its back with a grace that Basima envied and turned the horse's head in the direction they wanted to go and started forward.

Basima couldn't explain it but she got the feeling that she was supposed to follow and climbed onto her horse and taking the lead, she urged her 'caravan' to follow the stranger. She kept her distance behind the stranger and maintained a watchful eye. They were not going in the direction of Damascus but somewhere else. She wanted to ask but remained silent. She was in this stranger's debt and… she would accept whatever payment was demanded of her.

She was rewarded for her silence when their party came upon a watch tower with a lone guard keeping an eye out. The guard was wearing similar robes to what her rescuer was wearing but the sash was different and he gave a head bow to the stranger. They passed through the gate without much trouble and Basima allowed herself to look around at the village that was teeming with life. She blinked in surprise.

It increased when they were swarmed by villagers. Some were greeting the stranger with cheer and affection at their safe return. Some were helping Basima with her and her things. She thought it best to follow the lead since the people were not out to hurt her it seemed. She didn't know that the company she had been keeping warranted the attention and the commands would be instantly obeyed. She was nervous about letting them take her father's body but relaxed when she noticed the stranger didn't seem too worried by it. Basima looked at the stranger who was surveying everything and asked, "What am I to do?"

Basima's rescuer moved their head to glance in her direction. The low voice spoke, "You will be taken care of. You will continue onto Damascus." The owner then turned and started walking away from the crowd with a silent gait that gently parted the crowd and allowed them to be swallowed by it.

Basima looked for the stranger but couldn't see them. She was directed to follow an elderly woman and looked around. She asked, "And I in some sort of debt?"

"Your life has been safeguarded. It is only fair that you return it," the woman replied. She gestured at the village, "We are protected and hence we provide service."

Basima nodded as she was shown a place to rest. She managed to ask, "Who was it that brought me here?"

The elderly woman was moving about the room when she paused and looked at Basima. She replied, "A Master Librarian and Arbiter. Some say that one learned the ways of the Assassins."

"Assassins?" Basima wondered what world she had stumbled into.

"Only stories child. When you are ready I will take you to whom you are to speak to."

Basima looked around. She looked out the window of the room and saw a massive citadel. It looked like a guard that protected the village below it. She had heard of stories about an order that was called upon to sit in judgment; various governors sought them out and they were also librarians. They collected knowledge and it was said that they had a vast library. Did they…? "Where am I?"

"Al-Nasrah, the citadel of the Arbiters."


The stables smelled of the horses, hay and donkeys that were kept. There was also the faint smell of camels as well and all were busy with their meals. They paid little to no attention to the woman that was petting the falcon that was sitting on the stall wall of one of the older donkeys and chirping and occasionally giving pecks of affection to the woman as she stroked the soft feathers. It was an atmosphere of contentment for all that were there.

"I heard we have a new set of eyes heading to Damascus."

The woman didn't look up but continued to pet the falcon. Her red brown eyes blinked as she ran the back of her first finger on the chest of the bird. She replied, "She is capable. Not one to get dirty but capable."

The elder man that had spoken when he entered the stables looked at the woman with a tolerant expression. "You were supposed to deliver the tome to Aouda in Damas."

"I did. I just happened to see Tamir's bandits on my return," the woman countered. She paused in her petting and turned to look at her visitor.

"You tracked them specifically when you were not given leave."

The woman stood up, her robes falling into place. The only thing that wasn't in place was the hood for it was lowered revealing her true side since the robes hid her figure. She gave a firm look and replied, "And how long were we going to wait until we acted, Father? Until more innocents die?" She paused a moment to look way and then added, "I thought we were Arbiters." She gave her father a questioning and respectful look.

Ahmed Al-Fakir looked at his daughter now in her twenty-fifth year and already a Master Librarian and Arbiter, the former which usually took a lifetime to achieve and the latter granted because she had exercised wisdom in her judgment and had managed to prevent nations from warring. She made him proud but he was concerned. Normally she would have been married by now and the fact that she was still unwed was disconcerting to some. Looking at her he replied, "We are Arbiters, habibiti. We do have an obligation to dispense justice but we use knowledge to do that. Knowledge guides our hand for we are scholars… seekers of truth."

"Yes Father, but a scholar can be killed just the same upon a blade."

"You modified your mother's argument for requesting your training," Ahmed replied with a slight smile on his face. "Very clever my daughter."

"The same principle."

"Which is why I let your training go on as long as it did," Ahmed replied, "But it is your words and desire to have the least amount of bloodshed that has earned our rank as it were."

"Father, I completed my mission and I did chance upon Tamir's men. They killed her father."

Ahmed sighed as he watched his daughter looked away thoughtfully and knew she was thinking of that day fifteen years ago. She had never forgotten and it seemed to be a motivation of sorts… not that he blamed her. "Father and child?"

"Yes, Father."

Ahmed nodded at that. His supposition was correct. "That was a long time ago my daughter."

"For one, yes. But a similar one occurring with someone else."

Ahmed watched his daughter as she leaned over to pet the donkey whose stall her falcon was sitting on. The elderly beast made a humming sound and he recalled why that particular beast was there. The story still made him laugh but also reflected her ability to reason and use her knowledge.

"One lived and revealed that Tamir is in Damascus and has been causing problems for a few of the merchants. It is recommended that word should be sent to our brother order."

Ahmed was well aware of that piece of information. If anything his daughter was very prompt in delivering her information. The old librarian in the archives spoke of as much when she was apprenticed to him for a time. She was thorough and didn't issue an opinion until she was certain it was warranted. It was why he was a bit reluctant to give her the newest assignment that was agreed upon by the council and backed by him. It was unprecedented but changes had been made and with the crusades raging in the Holy Land…

"Our new eyes can deliver the message."

"That has been discussed but it is unnecessary for the council and I have reached a decision," Ahmed said. He watched as his daughter straightened up apparently recognizing that she was going to be asked to do something. "The council is in agreement as am I that we are Arbiters but also seekers of knowledge."

"I meant no disrespect Father," the woman said as she lowered her head contritely and prepared for punishment.

"The crusades have wrought change, Daughter," Ahmed countered as he raised his daughter's head by using his forefinger to lift her chin. She was hardly subservient and she used that as an advantage when she took to training the guard of the citadel and the few scholars that wished to learn. "We can no longer ignore it and our role is changing. You have shown this with your past assignments. Tamir has long been a blemish with his involvement in trying to poison the citizens of Acre and other activities but it is clear that he is not alone in this."

"I have noticed as well."

Ahmed nodded, "It has been decided that the Arbiters will seek out him out, learn what he knows and then cast judgment."

"Isn't that more along what our brother order does?"

Ahmed looked at his daughter who was giving him a surprised look. He replied, "Tamir has been our problem since the beginning and we have chosen to give those that want to resist the means of striking back. However it seems that there are things that must be dealt with." He paused and looked at his daughter and said, "I am telling you this because it is the council's decision that you be the one to carry this out."

"Me?"

"Yes. Seek knowledge and deliver justice," Ahmed replied with a nod. "It is unusual but you are the first to expand upon our role…"

"I understand Father. I will head to Damas," she replied.

Ahmed put his hands on his daughter's shoulders. He looked at her knowing that he was sending her into a realm that she was formally given sanction to perform in. He sighed and said, "You are like your mother Selma Al-Fakir. She saw that we would need to change. Go with Allah."

His daughter nodded and proceeded to prepare to leave. He almost had to chuckle when she lifted her bird onto her hand and it perched on her shoulder. He watched as she rode out to lead this change of times for their order.


A/N: And we are fifteen years later and looks like Selma is all grown up. We'll see where it goes next time on Shades of Grey...