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Updated 2/21/16

Chapter Four: Pleasantries

The hall was quiet as the two assassins led them away from the room. Sam wondered briefly if they were the only ones present in the building. Wherever they were was small, having no more than four or five small rooms. Nevertheless, it was obviously still built to accommodate more people than were currently there.

It didn't take them long to reach their destination, a small room where they would eat lunch. It housed a long table which looked like it could sit at least ten people on the benches lining it. On the opposite wall was a fireplace which looked like it was probably used to cook food and heat water. The already sweltering room was almost unbearable with the added heat.

There was already food on the table, perhaps meant for someone else, but they all sat down regardless.

The lunch of bread, cheese, and cooked meat was like a feast for the starving women. Sam was thankful that they had been brought here, despite all of the turmoil it had caused. Her stomach was full of food and water and she and Amy were still alive.

"Since we will no doubt be the ones taking you to Masyaf I suppose it is best that you at least have something more to call us than assassin," one of the men spoke after finishing off the food on his plate. "I am Malik, and my surlier companion here is Altaïr."

The introduction was a nice change compared to being ordered around and questioned, one that Samantha greatly appreciated. Any small bit of information gave her a better grasp of her surroundings and helped make her more comfortable.

"Thank you for saving us," Sam looked pointedly towards Altaïr," and thank you for sheltering us."

It was the least she could do to try to set things off on a better foot than before. Samantha decided that she would try to forget all of the threats in an attempt to make her situation more pleasant.

"It is our duty as assassins to protect the innocent," Malik informed them.

"But usually they do not ask any more of us or spin wild tales of travelling through time."

Sam watched as Malik sent Altaïr a sharp look.

Silence overtook the table, no one willing to risk a possibly insulting topic or comment. Samantha had no idea what conversations might consist of during whatever time they were in and she figured that the two men felt similarly.

"Do you have family somewhere? Husbands?" Malik broke the silence.

It wasn't an odd question, and she was sure that during this time they would have been married off years before now. "Family, yes. Husbands, no. I was studying to be an architect and Amy to become a doctor- a healer," she corrected herself.

"They allow women to do such things?" Altaïr asked disdainfully and met Sam's eyes for half a moment before returning them to his plate.

"You don't believe us?"

"How could I? You speak of women taking up a man's occupation." The assassin folded his arms over his chest and glared across the table at Sam.

Samantha remained calm, which seemed to be the best option at the moment. "It is not you who I need approval or acknowledgement from."

"Al Mualim will not believe your lies any more than I do." Altaïr rose from his seat and headed for the door while mumbling about how he would waste no more of his day on this nonsense. The only sound left in his wake was the door slamming shut behind him.

"You will have to forgive him," Malik spoke after a moment, "it has been a trying day for us all."

"Fair enough," Sam replied while rubbing her temples, "is he always this bad?"

"Not always. I believe you will find our master to be much more gracious; Altaïr has never really been one for pleasantries."

Amy laughed softly at that, a sound that Samantha was glad to hear.

"Is there anything we can do until we leave tomorrow?" Her friend asked after a moment, "I'm a bit too restless to just sit around all day."

Malik looked between the two of them before answering. "We cannot allow you to leave, for obvious reasons, but there are duties to be done around here that I would be glad to have aid with."

The boiling room was becoming more than Sam could handle. The food and drink had helped a bit with her headache but after being interrogated by Altaïr even that could not keep it at bay.

"I'm going to return to our room, I need to rest my head," She gestured at where she imagined the large bruise on her forehead was.

"I trust that you will be able to find it?" The question wasn't asked unkindly and Sam was actually glad for the concern.

"Of course, thank you."

"I don't mind helping," Amy offered, "I was serious when I said that I can't stand to just sit around right now."

"Very well then," Malik said and gave her a slight smile, "If you'll follow me there are some books that I must organize."

Amy found herself in yet another room, this one had walls lined with bookshelves. The books that needed to be put away were stacked in large piles on the floor. Malik began to explain where things should go and the two began working.

The room was silent other than the thumping of heavy books and the occasional flutter of pages.

"You are very close to her," Malik observed after they had been working for a while.

"She's like my sister," Amy agreed while putting away another tome. "Has been ever since we became roommates in college." She turned around and after seeing the puzzled look on the man's face apologized softly, "I'm sorry, everything I just said probably doesn't make any sense to you."

"Do not trouble yourself over it." A smile graced his face again, "There must be many differences from the future that I will never begin to understand."

Amy was perplexed, "You believe us?" She was having a hard enough time believing that they were actually in the past. It was difficult to see how he could possibly think that they were speaking the truth.

"I have a younger brother," he joked, "I have become a master at telling when people are lying."

A warm hand was placed on her shoulder.

"I do not think that you are lying."

Sam scuffed her shoe against the floor, wanting to be anywhere but here. All of her conversations with Altaïr had left her in a sour mood and a longing for home. She ran a hand through her hair as she walked, trying to comb out all of the tangles.

While rounding a corner Samantha nearly ran into the assassin. "Sorry I-" She was shoved against the wall, Altaïr's forearm against her throat. The movement jarred her and her head gave a sharp twinge. Sam briefly wondered if he had any semblance of self-control.

"What do you want?" He hadn't said anything and she was quickly growing tired of their close proximity.

Golden-like eyes flashed menacingly from underneath the assassin's hood but he still said nothing. Each second grew more uncomfortable and Sam began to feel more than a little like a bug under a magnifying glass.

"This makes no sense," Altaïr remarked, his voice so soft she could barely hear it.

Before she could even begin to wonder what he meant, he was gone. Samantha rubbed her sore neck and shoulders, it didn't really matter what he had meant since now Sam was going to try her hardest to avoid him.

Altaïr stalked off towards his room.

He was said to have been blessed with his Eagle Vision from a young age. It had never led him astray before, always he would know who was friend or foe based on his natural ability. Now, though, it was completely indecipherable.

When he had tried looking at Samantha with it her aura was a hazy color of blue and gold, marking her both as a target and an ally.

Nothing like this had ever happened before. If she was a target should he kill her now and be done with it? There was no conceivable reason why she should have been marked with blue, though.

Altaïr decided that he would put his faith in Al Mualim's wisdom. Never would he admit this flaw in his abilities.