Definitions:

Zakat = giving charity to the poor

Siwaak = similar to a tooth-picker

Ten

People chattered and walked past the thick walls without any knowledge of the Assassin's presence. Altaïr sat on the stone bench in someone else's back garden. He took a shaky breath and pressed his hand against the wound in his side. The heat of the sun combined with the pain made it hard for him to breathe. Careful not to raise his head, he glanced past his hood to check for the guards' presence. With the coast clear of any aggressors, he slowly rose to his feet and made his way to the crowd, dropping his hand to his side to subdue suspicion. He could feel the wound open and stretch against the bandage. If he hadn't come to the woman's aid, none of this would've happened. It was like Malik had said: he was barely worthy of being a Master Assassin these days. He should have left the woman to the guards since they would surely pick her side over the beggars. Then again, there was no knowing in what the guard would do to the woman after aiding her since she had rather outstanding facial features. Someone like her should either hide her face or bring a mahram with her wherever she went. Altaïr snorted when he thought of Esma's guardian: the skinny, pretty boy. Still, even the presence of such a man would be enough to keep the beggars away.

He wondered what she was thinking by continuously going out by herself and getting into trouble. What if he were not around to help her, or had it just been coincidence? He blinked when sweat dripped into his eyes, feeling the sting of the hot sun grind further into his vision. Perhaps it was his presence that drew the danger towards her. Though not approaching her was not an option for him: he was too selfish to comply with such a measurement. Besides, going to the saloon was something that benefited both her father and her. Speculations weren't merely enough reason to stay away from her.

الله أكبر

"Alright," Maghrub called to Esma as he poked the siwaak between his teeth, "you can tell me what's causing you to smile non-stop after you've been robbed by beggars." He shifted in his seat, his feet comfortably supported on an extra stool. Since there were no customers, Maghrub saw no reason to act modestly. He watched Esma start from his unexpected remark, adding, "Something that could still make you smile after you lost all your money must be really good. Please let me in on the fun".

Esma couldn't tell whether her father was angry or not. He appeared calm, but his rather snarky remarks weren't common. Perhaps he was just worried for her well-being. "I'm sorry to have worried you, Father," Esma apologized sincerely, "but the most important thing is that I am unscathed, right? Praise the Lord."

Maghrub pulled his feet from the stand and sat upright. "Praise the Lord," he answered as he watched Esma's expression carefully, "I feel you are hiding something from me. No person gets robbed and comes back smiling."

Esma swallowed and looked at her father; he seemed rather angry after all. "Please don't think badly of me, Father. It is just that...Naveen told me such wonderful news that I could not help but feel glad for her." May the Lord forgive me for such a blatant lie. "But I should not tell you about this as she asked me to keep it a secret." She grabbed a moist cloth and wiped the counter to keep herself busy. "We should not feel upset about the incident, Father. Instead, we should view it as zakat. They probably needed the coins more than we do at the moment. It's what the Lord willed after all."

Maghrub pulled the siwaak away from his mouth and frowned. "If you put it like that it does sound less upsetting, but it doesn't take away that you brought great danger upon yourself today. Why didn't you bring someone with you?"

"Who should I have asked? Maher?" Esma bit down on her lower lip. She should not openly express her dislike for Maher like that.

Maghrub blinked in surprise at her edgy answer. "Why are you using that tone?" He frowned at her, "Maher should be your first choice to bring along. Aside from your uncle and I, he is the closest family member you have."

'Maher is touchy jerk!'Was what she wanted to say, but she couldn't do it as she didn't want to make it harder on her father than it already was. Without Maher, her father would have to do a lot of errands himself. Esma averted her eyes, aware of her displeased pout, but unable to wipe it away from her face.

"Why aren't you getting along with him? He's a good son."

"I just don't like him."

"Do you feel he is inconsiderate of you? If that's the case, then it's probably because Maher is still young. Give him a few years and he'll mature."

Esma frowned as she looked up at Maghrub. "Are you trying to convince me to like Maher? I just don't like how his personality is."

"People change," Maghrub offered, though he didn't seem very convinced himself. "Anyway, I'm not forcing you to like him. It would just be nice if you could get along with him. We aren't a very big family, you know. We have to treasure the people we have."

Treasure Maher? Esma snickered at the thought. But she knew what her father meant. "I know, Father," she sighed, "I'll try to get along with Maher." Maghrub looked like he wanted to say more, but he didn't. Esma didn't encourage him to speak. She felt a little guilty over her poor cooperation to keep the conversation going, but brushed the feelings aside. Today just wasn't a good day for talking. She put the cloth on the counter and wiped her hands dry on her skirt. "I'm going to retreat to my room now. Is that alright?"

"Yeah, sure. It's not like there's much to do in the shop now." Maghrub gestured around the empty saloon to emphasize his point.

"Um, yes. If the Lord wills it, there will be customers, Father. Don't worry about it."

As soon as Esma had closed the door behind her, she lunged herself on the bed. Beggars, a fight, a guard's chase and the Assassin.Where did this sudden thrill in her life come from so quickly? Usually her daily part of suspense existed from throwing Maher's pushy behaviour off her or doing some bold things with Naveen; may the Lord forgive her. Ever since the time the Assassin had visited the saloon it seemed like she bumped into him way too many times, considering his role as an Assassin. Jerusalem was not a small city, so why did she see him this often? Did he live close by their district? Her heartbeat accelerated at the thought. Though if that were the case, their meetings should be even more regular. Unless there had been times she had not noticed his presence. Was it possible that he stayed with someone close to their district when he visited Jerusalem? With whom? Could it be a woman? Esma noticed herself feeling jealous at the thought. She sighed and buried her face in the cushion. Never let the shaytaan misguide you. Jealousy was a dangerous emotion. Besides, she knew nothing of the Assassin. Well, not exactly nothing, but personally there wasn't much she was aware of. She raised her head from the cushion and started to count on her fingers the things she knew about Altaïr.

One: his name was Altaïr, she didn't know his family name. It was good to keep himself anonymous that way. Two: he was athletic and strong: a skilled killer. She paused and watched her hand in thought, her breathing becoming audibly heavier. A killer.She swallowed harshly, her throat dry, and licked her lips. It was best not to think about that now, because he did have a good heart. He saved innocent civilians after all. She allowed a small smile, but when she realized that murdering people and having a good heart cynically contradicted each other the smile quickly faded. She stretched her fingers and dropped her head in the cushion again. A low growl of frustration emitted from her throat. What in the Lord's name had she gotten herself into?

She blinked at the wall and thought of Altaïr bright, amber-coloured eyes. They were beautiful, weren't they? Naveen would probably agree. The girl hadn't even taken a good look at Altaïr yet and was already head over heels for him. If she knew how chivalrous he was to rush to her aid every time again, she would surely urge her to introduce him to her father. Well, chivalrous if you left out the fact that the man was an assassin and actually killed people. Esma clenched the cushion between her fingers. Was shehead over heels for the man as well? A funny feeling rose in her stomach and she turned in her bed. She was blushing and hated it. What was so great about the man anyway? Aside from the fact he had saved her life countless times. He was handsome and desirable.Esma shot up into a sitting position and stared at the wall in shock. Those weren't her thoughts...this was the shaytaan whispering to her. She fidgeted her fingers in worry, her cheeks hot. Handsome he was, but desirable? Did she honestly think of such a shameful term?

What would her father think of this all if he were to find out? His only daughter being attracted to a cold-blooded killer. Terrifying. There was no way he was going to agree to that. Besides, who said the Assassin was interested in her. Even if he were, she had to be careful not to fall in shaytaan's trap of committing sins in an unmarried state. But was she flattering herself now? Why would someone as Altaïr find a simple girl from the saloon interesting? Though Maher seemed eager to get together with her. But that's Maher. She didn't have much to offer, except her youth. No!What was she even thinking? Those were pathetic thoughts! The Assassin needed to leave her mind right this second. This was turning into an unhealthy train of thoughts.

الله أكبر

"Well then. I think it's about time we finish things up here."

Esma looked up in shock, "Is it already that late?" But Altaïr hasn't visited yet!Had he lied about coming to their saloon? She frowned deeply in thought. Why would he meaninglessly agree to her request? That didn't seem like a thing he would do as he seemed to be a man of his words. Unless... Esma's eyes widened in fear. Did something happen to him?She grabbed the fabric of her clothing at her chest in worry and bit down on her lower lip. Surely a capable man like him would be able to take care of himself. Right?

The loud sound of the wooden bar at the front door clicking into its place pulled her from her thoughts. Her father was already closing up the shop. Esma quickly got up to shut the panels of the windows. "Time sure flew by, didn't it?" she mumbled under her breath, not expecting her father to hear her – but he did.

"You think so? I thought it was a rather tedious day. Praise the Lord." After closing the doors, Maghrub headed for the washing room. "I'm going to go to the mosque in a moment. Are you joining me?"

Would the Assassin come during Maghrib? It seemed a like good opportunity to evade her father during those hours. Truthfully, it wasn't alright for her to be alone with him. But the thought that he would visit their saloon at night while no one was present, wasn't a pleasant one either. She had promised to repay him after all. "I think I'll perform prayer here."

"Are you sure? Today's a good opportunity for us to go together. You could pray with the other women."

Esma waited a moment before answering, pretending to think her father's offer over. If she declined too quickly she might give her father the impression she was waiting for something. "I rather stay at home today," she said as casually as possible, "I'll go to the mosque tomorrow."

"Alright then," Maghrub said as he went into the washing room.

As soon as Maghrub had left the house, Esma jumped up to cleanse herself and perform prayer. After that, she went outside and sat on the stone bench, waiting for Altaïr. Minutes turned into an hour and there was still no sight of the Assassin. Esma hugged her arms and looked around her in worry. Was he unharmed? She looked up at the sky, wondering if Altaïr crimes would be forgiven by the Lord. He was a criminal, wasn't he? No, he was not. He was a man with a cause. A man who fought the corrupted to free the land... She rubbed her face in frustration. What did she know about The Brotherhood anyway? Maybe they were just cold-blooded killers, manipulating the people to believe their cause was a good one. But Altaïr was different, wasn't he? He actually helped the citizens of Jerusalem. She pinched her own arms as she stared to the stone walls in concern. He was probably fine and just forgot to come by the saloon.

Esma got up and returned inside before her father would have to call her from outside again, like last time. That would be embarrassing. Pretending she wasn't thinking of the Assassin, she waited for her father at the front door.

الله أكبر

Sleep came quickly that night. Esma slept late into the night while the moon made its slow journey into the inky sky. Lying listlessly against her bed, the soft sound of her wood shutters from the window began to click together. Esma groaned, turning between her sheets and covering her face with a pillow, willing herself back to sleep. Almost asleep again, the next series of clicking came. Esma's eyes fluttered open and she blankly stared to the ceiling. Slowly, she turned towards the window. Was there knocking on her panels? Who would knock on her window at this time of the day? Unless... Her eyes darted open in realization, any sleep from before now gone. She quickly climbed out of the bed and checked her abaya to make sure it was decent. Carefully she opened the shutters from her window, just slightly ajar so she could still shut the panels if it was not the person she had anticipated.

Her heart filled itself with fear and excitement at the same time at the sight. He stood so close at her window that she could smell the familiar scent of iron and sweat. A warm feeling spread through her belly. "Is that you, brother?" Esma quietly whispered, hoping she wouldn't wake her father in the other room.

"Yes," said the man. Esma could barely distinguish his face, but his scarred lips were clearly visible as they moved. "I came as you requested." She nodded and slightly leaned out of the window to see if there were other people. "There's no one around," Altaïr provided, starting the young woman.

Esma flushed and quickly leaned back into her room, only now realizing how close she had been to Altaïr. "Y-Yes, of course. You would know. Peace upon you, Altaïr. Are you alright?" I worried sick about you! Despite not knowing anything about you.She quietly sighed and hoped the look on her face wasn't giving away her true thoughts.

She heard him breathe, slowly, before he answered, "Peace upon you as well. I am well." The pause in his answer made it seem like he was reluctant to speak about the matter. Was he not well? Esma looked up in worry, hoping she could catch his clear, amber eyes to learn more about his thoughts, but his hood strategically covered his face.

It was in a way unsettling to speak to a man of whom she could not even see the face. Esma's eyes grazed the streets behind the Assassin in thought, wondering whether she should ask him about his well-being again, but she decided against it in the end, not wanting to appear as a meddler. "I am glad to hear that," she lied, "I was actually...worried something might have happened to you." She tried to watch his face, but there was nothing to see. Esma sighed inwardly. Perhaps she was imagining things. Altaïr seemed the kind of person who would take care of himself.

Despite everything, it didn't take away that their secret meeting was highly inappropriate. Esma pulled her mouth in anxiety. If her father found out about it...it would be scandalous; a catastrophe. She looked up at Altaïr, "Couldn't you have come when the saloon was open? My father could have overlooked our conversation, keeping our meeting more appropriate." She could tell from his body language that she surprised him with her question, even if the movement was minimal.

"I did not realize this, my apologies," he said, "I couldn't come earlier, but I ensure you that I won't take long. There's something I want you to have before I leave."

Esma narrowed her eyes, but when she realized what he had just said, she gasped in surprise. A gift? The Assassin had brought something for her? This was outrageous, but terribly exciting at the same time! Esma held her breath as she fixed her gaze on the man. Was it even appropriate for her to take anything from a man? Let alone a man she barely knew? Not considering the fact that he was an Assassin."What...what is it?" The twinkle in her eyes couldn't be missed.

"It's nothing you should get excited about," Altaïr immediately said, beating down her excitement. His remark made Esma blush in embarrassment and look away, but her attention was quickly pulled back to the man when he reached inside his thick, leather belt and pulled out a small package, bundled in a soft, yellow cloth, stained with a few dark spots, which looked an awful lot like blood – considering the scent she'd been catching, it seemed very plausible.

Worry showed on the woman's brows as she took the stains in. "Is that blood?"

The Assassin's grip around the bundle tightened, making it seem like he hadn't anticipated the stains. "It seems so," he reluctantly admitted. The silence between them was crushing. "It was not my intention to frighten you. Here," he pulled the yellow cloth away and revealed a polished dagger, "It's for you."

Esma gasped at the sight, immediately covering her mouth. She looked up at Altaïr in shock. Had someone been murdered with that? Is that why there were blood stains?She was at lost for words. What was she supposed to do? Take the dagger and thank him for a murder weapon from which the cloth had even been stained by blood? What kind of terrible gift was this?

The Assassin was quiet for a moment, probably wondering whether he had done the right thing. When Esma didn't say anything, he eventually cleared his throat and asked, "Are you afraid?"

Afraid? His words suddenly made her realize he could easily stab her with the same dagger. She unconsciously took a step back in fear. "...Why are you giving me this?"

Altaïr wrapped the dagger back into the yellow cloth and put the weapon down on her window frame. "You've only found yourself in trouble around me. This is for you to arm yourself."

"But I don't know how to wield a blade!" Esma gasped in exasperation. "It would only turn against me!"

"Asses the situation. Buy yourself more time when— Someone is coming."

"What?"

"Hide."

"Hide? Where? You want to hide inside my—"

The Assassin made an impossibly high leap and disappeared from her sight. Esma quickly shut the panels of her window and leaned her back against it. Suddenly she wondered if her conversation with the Assassin hadn't been performed too leisurely. If people had heard, why wouldn't her father? The air in the room suddenly seemed to suffocate her. What if he heard?She pressed her left ear against the wooden panels and breathed quietly. Was Altaïr still out there? That foolish discussion over a dagger had made her forget all about repaying him.

Esma quietly, but swiftly made her way to the kitchen and took a worn-out cloth to supply it abundantly with bread, goat cheese and a few dried strips of meat. She tied a knot to the cloth to turn it into a bag. When she was about to return to her room, she caught her father's figure at the door, the sight almost made her drop the supply bag. Oh Lord.

"Peace upon you, Esma," Maghrub mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

"F-Father, I did not realize you were there! I mean, peace upon you as well!" Esma stuttered, wanting to mentally slap herself for her nervous behaviour.

Maghrub suddenly realized the dishevelled composure of his daughter and was shaken awake by suspicion. "What are you doing?" His eyes shifted to the bag in her hands. "Could it be you are...feeding people? Are there beggars at our door?" He looked over her shoulder at the front door, but when he didn't see anything out-of-order, his gaze went back to Esma. "What are you trying to do? You knowit's dangerous! Are they in the back garden?"

"No! No one's at the back garden! I was about to..." Could she afford to lie any more to her dear father? Hadn't she lied enough already? "I'm sorry, Father! There's something I absolutely must do. I must repay a debt!"

Maghrub frowned in concern. "What are you talking about? What debt could you possibly have?"

Esma bit down on her lip. "I'll explain later, Father. Please wait here. I'll be right back."

"You're not going anywhere at this time of the night!" Maghrub shouted, "Have you lost your mind?"

Esma stared at him in start. "No, I'm not going anywhere," she said with a small voice, "just my room."

Maghrub looked puzzled. "Are you keeping people in your room?"

"No! Of course not, Father. I... I'll explain everything later. Please, I need to go to my room now."

Maghrub clearly hesitated, seeing his daughter's desperate composure. "Alright, fine," he sighed, "but I will come with you. We will see what you have to say for later, if the Lord wills it."

This is crazy,Esma thought with wide eyes as she made her way to her room. She was actually bringing her father to Altaïr – if he were still there. If her father would see him at her window he would surely think that they had an affair. But was it really of use to worry about that now? Altaïr had saved her countless times and it was only righteous that she would help him, no matter what it took. The Lord knew she had committed no grave sins with the man. Her father would understand, eventually. She slowly pushed the shutters open. Maghrub stood closely behind her.

It didn't take long before Altaïr dropped down before her window, unsettled by the sudden company of her father.

"Assassin!" Maghrub hissed in alarm and bolted forward, pushing his daughter out of the way. Esma dropped to the floor with a gasp, too surprised by her father's sudden course of action to speak. The sharp sound of metal grazing metal made her look up in terror. Her eyes grew large at the sight. Similar stances. Different weapons. Her father had been armed? For what?

"This explains why Esma knew about the four-finger tradition of The Creed," Altaïr said, his voice low and void of emotion.

"You're...you're the one who always comes for lunch!" Maghrub exclaimed in astonishment, but it only took him a second to restore his composure. "Were you targeting us?" he asked in a dark tone, revealing a protective side that Esma didn't know he had.

Esma scrambled to her feet in bewilderment. "Father, wait! He means no harm! Please withdraw your sword!" This was madness. Asking a simple chef to pull back his sword from an Assassin?As if her father were going to comply to that. As expected, Maghrub didn't move. Altaïr took a guarded step back while still holding out his dagger. "Father!" Esma pressed as she grabbed Maghrub's shirt, "This man saved my life!" Her words finally seemed to reach Maghrub. The man clearly hesitated and quickly glanced at his daughter. If Altaïr were truly planning to kill them, now would have been the perfect opening. But the Assassin took a moment to watch Maghrub before tucking his dagger back into its sheath.

"I mean no harm," Altaïr said as he raised one hand in a manner of reconciliation. "Safety and peace, brother." He sounded amazingly composed, considering the tense situation.

Maghrub slowly put away his blade in the sash of his clothes. "Peace upon you as well," he said coldly. "If you are not here to kill, then what were you doing at my daughter's window in the middle of the night?" Suddenly something clicked in his mind and Maghrub started fuming, barely able to contain his anger. "What have you doneto my Esma?"

Esma pushed Maghrub out of the way. "This is a misunderstanding, Father. There's nothing going on between me and this man." She ignored her father's astonished look and pushed the supply bag in Altaïr's hands. Altaïr accepted the bag while his eyes were still on Maghrub. "Please go now," Esma urged him, "and be safe." Maghrub grabbed his daughter's shoulder and yanked her back.

"Are you out of your mind?" he retorted. "What part of 'assassin' do you not understand?" He changed his mind when he remembered the Assassin was a non-hostile one. "Have you two been meeting like this often?" he shouted, infuriated.

Altaïr ignored the older man's rage and calmly tied the supply bag to his belt. When he was done, he looked up at Maghrub and asked, "How are you linked to the Assassins? You seem to know an awful lot about them. Even from your movements I could tell this wasn't your first time dealing with an Assassin."

Maghrub turned pale. He took a cautious step back, bumping into Esma in the process. "I don't know what you are talking about. I just reacted when I thought someone was going to attack my daughter."

"What are you going on about, brother?" Esma asked nervously. "My father has nothing to do with you. He's been running the saloon all his life. Please, just leave..."

"The Lord knows Esma hasn't committed any sins," Altaïr unexpectedly said in Esma's defence, "If not for me, she might not even be alive, let alone the pure woman she is now." He looked at Esma.

To say Maghrub was confused was an understatement. "What...?" he turned to Esma, "What happened?"

"She was harassed by the city guards," Altaïr answered. He held the supply bag and nodded to Esma, "I'm sure this will be of use. I thank you both. Safety and peace." Without waiting for their reactions, he turned and left.

Maghrub snapped out of his stunned state and squeezed his torso through the window frame. "You can't just leave—!" he held his breath when he realized he was shaming Esma's reputation if he said any more, any louder for the neighbours to hear. Maghrub withdrew and slammed the shutters close angrily, making Esma flinch at the aggressive action. "What was the meaning of all that? What have you been hiding from me?"

Esma blinked the daze away. "I...we encountered each other a few times on the market. But those were only when the brother came to my aid!"

"You've been meeting with him behind my back?" Maghrub did not seem to believe what he was hearing. "You were meeting with a non-mahram?"

"No!" Esma immediately denied, "He just came to my aid! Nothing more!"

"What aid? Where was Maher?" Maghrub's eyes were filled with indignation. "You knowyou're not allowed to meet with non-mahram on your own! It's a grave sin, Esma!"

"I know that, Father," Esma retorted, equally frustrated, "I'm not oblivious to what I can and can't do! Trust me when I tell you nothing, absolutely nothing has happened between us! Besides, why were you armed?" A hit below the belt to divert the focus from her situation. It was a low blow.

"For occasions such as these of course," Maghrub simply replied, brushing the question aside. But Esma was not planning to let him go that easily.

"The brother said you knew something of The Brotherhood. What does that mean?" To her utter surprise, Maghrub flushed a deep shade of red and averted his eyes.

"It's...it's been a long night. Perhaps we should call it a day."

Esma's eyes grew large in amazement. Just like that he was letting her off? His reaction on The Brotherhood was completely unexpected and it made her worry. Something was important enough for her father to ignore her meet-up with an actual assassin?He was hiding something of substantial importance. The thought that her father was not a simple saloon owner alone scared her. She rubbed her arm in an attempt to console herself. If she let the topic go now, he would let her off on her situation as well. If she pressed on, they were surely going to have a frustrating discussion. Her father was right; it had been a long night. "Alright, let's call it a day," Esma nodded without looking at her father.

Beta reader: Novoux

Author notes: Hello lovely readers! Thank you so much for reading up to chapter 10! I must admit I'm slightly nervous because Novoux had to help me a lot on this one, hahaha. I hope this chapter came out fine and you enjoyed reading it nevertheless. And I hope you didn't wait too long for the update! I couldn't possibly beat my record of last time, I think, lol. Now that I think about it, the reason it took me 3 weeks to update this time was because I was busy with my own comic. Since I love both drawing and writing it would seem a natural thing to try my hand at a comic! If you have the time, you can check it out in on my profile page, though I haven't gotten very far in the story yet – there's only 1 page, LOL. Oh right. I completely forgot: I changed my penname, but I guess that's not really of much importance, lol. Who cares anyway. Okay, author out (sorry for the long author note)! Until next time :)