I was gone for a while, roaming the streets, cursing Malik for not giving me directions, and struggling not to stab myself with the sack of throwing knives I was handed. I held it out at arm's length at first, nervous to bring it close to my body. Thankfully the blacksmith was only around the corner from the Bureau, so I didn't have to make a fool of myself for very long.
I dropped the sack down the entrance then dropped in after, my thigh throbbed in complaint as I dragged the sack into the main room.
Malik was again working on a map, and only looked up just for a second. "You took your time, novice," he stated as he refreshed the ink on his quill. "At least you found the blacksmith."
"It would have been easier if I had been told," I responded, but wished I hadn't. It wasn't my place to talk back.
"Leave them by the door, I'll put them away later," Malik told me. It was obvious that he was ignoring my comment; whether it would come back to bite me or not was difficult to tell. So, unwilling to continue to toe the line of disobediance, I pulled the sack of knives to the side and sat down beside my bag to rumage through it. Soon I pulled out a dark covered book, a piece of chalk, my quill and ink set. I placed the ink next to me and rested the book on my lap as I flipped to a clean page and begun to etch out the begins of a drawing with the chalk.
Just an eye, one I spent so much time on getting the details down that I didn't realize how much time even past. But I soon found out when I took note of two boots in front of me. I paused a moment before looking up at Malik, who seemed more or less unamused by my pass time.
"It's late," he said flatly. "Now unless you never sleep, I do suggest you put away the book and retire."
"But I-" I closed my own mouth this time as I realized that arguing with this guy would be fruitless. It wasn't like I was talking back to my last teacher, who usually only wanted an explaination and would let you do what you want. I was learning that Altair intended to give me someone who would be much more strict. Now if "strict" was another meaning for "no freetime" then I'm doomed. I gathered my quill, chalk, and ink and dropped them into my bag. I was holding onto my book, which I kept partly open with my thumb so the ink wouldn't smear. "Yes. I'll go. Goodnight."
Before I could even leave his line of sight, he found another way to prolong my discomfort and discreetly make a fool of me. "You know that you can't be sleeping in the courtyard."
"I... um..." I sighed heavily. "Then where do I sleep?"
"Come with me." Upon that, I followed him as he walked towards the far back and openned a door to a short hallway. Now this was something I never really heard about, since the assassins who come back from missions, never seem to go anywhere but the main room and the courtyard. There were two doors in this small of which Malik tapped with the toe of his boot. "It's actually just where we are suppose to keep assassins if they are badly injuried on a mission, but there's an extra space for healers. Consider that your space, but I'd better not find it cluttered and disorganized."
I nodded my thanks. "And the other door?"
"My room. What of it?" He answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Which I guess it kind of was. He went to open his own door before adding, "Be up by sunrise."
"Okay," I responded before walking into the other room. There were two mats. But I assumed the one on a table was meant for the wounded, to I dropped my bag down near the other in the corner. The space wasn't all that bad; a few worn pillows on top a straw woven mat. It could have been a lot worse and been just the cold floor. With that little bit of optimisium, I placed my book beside my mat and laid down to attempt to get some sleep.
Blood. The world bathed in crimson and spinning. The loud tha-thump of a heart pounding. The heavy, painful gasps of breath.
"Malik!"
"Come on! Hurry!"
"It's going to be okay, kid. Everything's going to be just fine."
The metal slide of a sword and then a scream.
"Red. Come on, Red."
"Get up." Malik was standing above me. "It's sunrise."
I groaned in complaint, just noticing that my hair was matted to my neck and forehead with sticky sweat, and my breathing had not slowed until the adreniline from the nightmare seeped away.
"Bad dream?" He asked, exaimining my expression of shock and fear ebbing away.
"Uh, yeah..." You know how some people say they have a hard time remembering their dreams? I never did. They were vivid as life to the extent where I sometimes felt pain. They stuck to my brain like troublesome cobwebs.
I was then startled back to full alertness when a white fabric object was thrown and hit me in the face. "Get dressed, I'll be in the other room." I had pulled the robe off my head in time to see him close the door behind him. Now for a moment, I almost wondered if Altair had any other people who he would have shipped me to. Doesn't matter I guess.
The robes he had given me weren't all that special. They were practically like his, but I was without the cloak to wear over it. The under piece was long and almost seemed like it it had a built in apron or something. While the over piece was basically like a shirt with long tails, two in fornt and two in back, and a flap of fabric over each tail. Almost like the regular Assassin robes in everything but simple details. There were some stitches to close the front with a topped X shape to it, normal robes didn't have the under skirt, and I couldn't quite figure out how exactly I was suppose to tie the shorter red sash (as I was used to the red length in the back as well as the front; it being shorter, I could only allow for a strip in the front). The only slightest bit of difference I could guess at was how loosely they hung on me in comparison.
So I stood there, looking myself over and making slight comparisons to my other set of novice robes. I had replaced the bandages over my thigh, which was steadily healing, and double checked my wrist before walking out into the main room where Malik was back to work with his maps. He didn't seem to notice that I walked in.
"You took your time," he noted without looking up at me. Then he replaced the quill in his ink jar and looked over to me. Now due to the awkward introduction where I couldn't seem to look anywhere but his amputation, I averted my gaze to the desk he was standing behind. "Do you know why you're here in Jerusalem?"
"Because I only get in the way," I answered with bitterness. "So the Grand Master wanted me somewhere where I couldn't to damage."
"That," he said, "is only partly true. You are a klutz and rather unskilled now, and though it has gotten you into trouble, there is more to it than that. You also lack self discipline, and this makes it difficult for you to train and improve. I have heard that your last teacher was very open and easy on you with training, and so you were never challanged or pushed to test your limits or even encouraged to improve. It is not your fault completely with this one, as it is the teacher who must guide a student. The Grand Master only wants to ensure that you are put somewhere where your potential is highest."
Just hearing this both disproved and sobered me and my views. My teacher said that men were made to battle, but women were not. So he never tried to press me, and acted as though he didn't understand how my mind worked. As if I were not human. Sure I thought nothing of it then, hell I loved the freedom, but now that I looked back at the fault in it, I worried. How could I drag myself from it? Or would I be able to at all?
"I think that the best way to teach you is to learn what you can do, and work on it," Malik continued. "Not everyone is meant to kill, after all."
"And how do you propose we find this out?" I asked.
His answer was simple yet tricky. "I want you to tell me. What is it you're most comfortable doing when it comes to training?"
In training, so that discluded drawing. Damn... "I don't know."
"You don't." Malik repeated. "I've seen the reports, obviously fighting and climbing are not your strong suits. So obviously the typical Assassin is out of question unless you wish to throw in the extra effort. How about spotting? Is keeping a look out so hard?"
Yes. I looked down and nodded. "I... should probably tell you something..."
"And what would that be?" He asked.
"I don't really see very well." I told him hesitantly. "I never could."
"Oh so the slight cross in your eyes are normal?" He said. "Good to know; I thought you were just looking at me funny the entire time."
My cheeks burned for a moment. "So... no. I'm not a good spotter."
"And that leaves scout out of the question." He tapped his chin a moment. "I don't know then. Is there anything you can do?"
"I can draw fairly decent," I shrugged. "But what good is that?"
"None unless you want to be like me and make maps for the rest of your life." He answered with the first hint of a grin I had seen since I arrived. "Anything else?"
I thought for a moment. "I'm alright when it comes to figuring out how something works. And my mom taught me a little about healing."
Malik thought for a moment before replying. "I'll think about what you told me and see if I can't think of something. For now, why not you check the pidgeon coop outside."
I nodded and walked out into the courtyard. But I hesitated when I reached the fountain and ceiling door. How would I climb up this time? I sucked in a breath and got straight to climbing, biting back curses as my arm throbbed with pain and my thigh strained in protest. A torturous minute later, I had managed to climb out. So I walked over to the coop and checked for any sort of message.
Well there was one. I grabbed the pidgeon and untied the message from it's leg. With the small slip of paper in hand, I carefully dropped back inside and handed the note to Malik.
