Final Edit on 2/23/16
Chapter Ten: Information Thief
The rest of the week had been an exhausting blur for Samantha. The first few days she and Altaïr had spent doing non-stop free running exercises, and more often than not she would lay in her room unable to sleep due to aching muscles.
Towards the end of the week there was a shift in her everyday training to include skills that required more finesse. Pick pocketing had been the hardest for her, and she was often caught with her hand in a pouch by the other novices that she had been training with. By the end of the week she had gotten the technique down to where she was caught only once or twice. Eavesdropping was also one of her more difficult lessons. Samantha found it tricky to weed out all of other conversations going on around her and then pinpoint the voices of those she needed to hear. Occasionally she would have to get off of the allotted benches and move slightly closer to the targets while trying to look busy.
Altaïr had spent their last day in Masyaf teaching her where to strike with a dagger to make a clean kill as well as how to sneak up on an opponent. She still wasn't quite sure where she stood when it came to taking another human beings life, but she told herself that the people she would be killing deserved it. Samantha also discovered, much to her dismay, that she would not have her own hidden blade until she had reached Altaïr's rank. Apparently this required Al Mualim's approval, many successful missions, and a series of trials. The ceremony also included the removal of her ring finger. Sam had looked forward to receiving the weapon up until that particular point.
During the week she had not seen much of Amy but would meet up with her, and sometimes Malik, for dinner. Her friend would tell her of what amazingly useful herbs this century had and how they would cure things as compared to during their time.
Altaïr did not join them during their dinners, which was just fine with her. She saw the grumpy assassin almost all hours of the day. The evenings were the one time she had to herself and she wanted to keep it that way.
On the days when Samantha did not feel like collapsing on her bed she would wander around the village below the fortress and observe what wares the shopkeepers had imported. Other times she would walk around in the library picking up books here and there to peruse through.
The thing that Samantha loved most about her first week in Masyaf had to be the view of the surrounding land. She had claimed the lowest terrace of the gardens as her resting area. Sam would gaze up at the mountains jutting into the cloudless pink skies during the evening, or down below to the crystal clear waters of the river winding through the land.
One thing she could do without, however, was the heat. Each day seemed hotter than the last and no clouds blocked any of the sunlight. Sam had begun to wonder if it ever rained at all. One day she had even searched for the coolest part of the fortress and found it was the wine cellars that were dug deep into the earth to keep the wine cool. It was childish of her, but the cellar was a little too dark and creepy for her taste and she never returned.
Her experiences were both good and bad but time went on and the week ended. Samantha now found herself in the bureau of Damascus. Returning to the city where she and Amy had first arrived had been surreal, but the city itself held little interest for her. She would have preferred to stay in Masyaf where at least the towers had gusts of wind blowing through them.
"It's not even a humid heat," Sam was complaining as she sat by the fountain near the entrance of the bureau, "it's a dry heat. It's even worse!"
"Sam you complaining about the heat isn't going to make it less hot," Amy whined as she fanned herself with a piece of parchment that she had taken and folded up.
The blonde groaned in response as she threw herself onto one of the pillows lying on the carpet. "I wish Altaïr and Malik would hurry up and give me my mission so that we can go back to Masyaf."
"Looks like you won't have to wait much longer," Amy commented as she noticed the two assassins standing in the doorway.
Sam stood to face her mentor, fully ready to get her mission underway. All of the training that week had given her a newfound confidence. She knew better than to think that she was a master assassin, but also understood that Al Mualim would not give her a mission that he did not deem her ready for.
"Normally novices would not perform an assassination so-"
"Early in their training, you've reminded me on multiple occasions," Samantha interrupted impatiently.
She received a withering glare. "You will do well to wait until your mentor is done speaking novice," Altaïr growled in warning.
Sam crossed her arms over her chest and frowned while tapping her foot impatiently, but kept her mouth shut.
"As I was saying, you should not being doing this so soon, but Al Mualim insists that it is a special mission specifically for you and Amy to prove your loyalty."
Samantha had been wondering why Amy had to come along on this mission. She was afraid of putting her in danger again, but at least felt confident that now she could protect her friend if she had to.
"You will spend today collecting information on your target and then perform the assassination tomorrow," Altaïr finished.
"Wait I'm not doing it today?" Sam asked as her attention snapped back to the conversation.
Altaïr clenched his fist trying to calm himself, "Weren't you listening?"
"Yes, yes, calm down," she waved him off.
The assassin glared but she simply sent him a teasing smile. Sometimes it was almost too easy for her to annoy him.
Samantha walked past the two men and into the main room where the Rafiq was painting a clay pot. He sent her a nod of acknowledgement and she inclined her head in return. The blonde then quickly grabbed an inkwell, quill, and scrap piece of parchment before looking over at Altaïr who was watching her from the doorway. "What was my targets name again?"
"Asham Ragoul," the assassin repeated and looked at her skeptically as she went to write it down.
"Could you spell that?" she asked and tried not to smile as Altaïr tensed his muscles in anger.
The warning look that Malik shot her from over the other assassins shoulder told her not to push him any further.
"Alright, alright," she said mockingly as she walked over and patted Altaïr's shoulder, "don't get all worked up."
The assassin had obviously become fed up with her antics so she rushed to the exit of the bureau and climbed onto the lattice roof before he could attempt to catch her. Samantha then stuck her head down to say goodbye to Amy, Malik, and Altaïr. "Don't miss me too much!" she called down to them before running off to jump onto another roof.
Sam stood there for a moment, taking a deep breath of air before covering her head with her hood. It was her first time recovering information for a mission, not to mention her first time roaming freely through the city of Damascus.
The woman took a look at a few of the landmarks around the area to remember for when she would return to the bureau before taking off, jumping and running from rooftop to rooftop with purpose.
Altaïr had told her once they had entered the city to look for what he called a "viewpoint", or a tall tower where she could get a good view of the city. He pointed one out to her just outside of the bureau and she noted a large bird of prey circling near the top of it.
Her eyes spotted the same tall tower to the west. In a few minutes time her feet had carried her to the base of the tower. Already Sam could feel sweat trickling down her face and she impatiently wiped it away. The sooner she got information, the sooner she could return the shade of the bureau.
Samantha rubbed her gloved hands together and began her steady ascent to the top. The climb felt like it had taken hours and she was actually thankful for the many times that Altaïr had made her scale the tall towers around Masyaf fortress to help train her.
The top of the tower drew nearer, and at such a height the wind blew strongly and billowed her white robes around her. Samantha was glad that there was a landing as well as railing at the top, as it allowed her a moments rest before she would have to continue onwards. She removed her hood, grateful of the brief reprieve from the heat of the rooftops.
After a moment she decided it was time to venture out to the ledge of the tower to see what she could. Her feet edged out onto the thin wooden plank and she prayed that she would be able to concentrate on details of the city without plummeting to her death.
Samantha's eyes swept over the ground below her and she forced herself to ignore the height. She could determine what area was the rich district by the colorful rooftop tiles shimmering in the afternoon sun and which was the poor district based on the shabbier buildings. Her eyes closed and she gripped onto the wood below her to keep from swaying. Sam focused on trying to hear snippets of conversation below her.
The drunken babbling of a man floated up. A poor woman was begging for money. Street urchins were fighting over a scrap of food. The cacophony of the city blurred together until something that could help her reached her ears, a conversation in the small marketplace below.
Samantha knew she would have to move quickly in order to get to a better vantage point. The cart of hay was far below her and she made an effort to try to not psych herself out. In one swift motion she pushed off of the plank with the toes of her boots and pitched forward into the air.
Sam let out a deep sigh of relief when she felt herself hit the pile of hay. Doing the leap of faith more than once didn't help the fact that every time there was a chance she might die.
She still had to hurry though, and she jumped out of the cart and quickly pushed her hood back over her head since it was still much safer for people to think she was a man. As Sam walked she brushed pieces of hay from her robes and navigated to the nearby market.
As she arrived Sam scanned the area in search of the two men she had heard speaking. At once her eyes were drawn to two men whispering conspiratorially to each other near the edge of the small vicinity.
Samantha walked around the edge of the crowd and along the walls of the surrounding buildings to reach a nearby bench. Two women whose faces were shrouded in cloth sat on the edge of the bench, leaving Samantha the edge furthest from the men to sit.
The women seemed to take no notice of her and continued with their conversation about some man one of them was seeing. Sam attempted to concentrate on the conversation of the men a few feet away. Unfortunately, the two women next to her had erupted into a bout of giggling.
Samantha wrestled with herself to focus on the task at hand but quickly snapped. She sprung from the bench, knowing that she could waste no time in finding another place to blend in. Her feet took her past the two men and around the corner of a building. The voices of the men were easily heard even over the din of the marketplace and she knew that she had made the right choice in leaving the bench.
"That brat has been a menace to the city his whole life."
"His father has given him everything he has wanted since birth. You cannot expect him to level with those less fortunate."
The first man snorted, "Less fortunate, indeed. Ever since inheriting his father's business we have been left with little while he takes all of the profit for himself."
"Enough, we should not speak any more of this matter while here."
The two men said goodbyes and presumably parted ways.
Samantha stood there for a moment to mull over the meager information she had just received. Obviously she was in the poor district of Damascus and Asham was some sort of noble. From what she had heard he took most of the money that people were working hard for which, she reasoned, was why the order wanted him dead.
She quickly decided that the rich district would have to be her next stop.
As she walked she wished, not for the first time, that she had some sort of map. It would have been easier than trying to get back onto the roofs in order to reorient herself. It surprised her, but the streets were actually more enjoyable than free running over the city. The streets were alive and thrummed with an unseen energy. People gossiped, they sold their wares, they rushed about doing daily chores. The whirlwind of it all excited her and she wanted nothing more to be swept away in the crowd to see what the city had to offer. All of it distracted Samantha from her mission.
It was not all for nothing, though. As she walked she saw the squalor that some lived in and it sent pangs of guilt into her heart. She knew that there were rich nobles like the one she was hunting living in this very city who had plenty enough money to give to these people. It was these thoughts that pulled her mind back to the task at hand.
As Samantha continued walking she realized that she had become hopelessly lost. She was beginning to tire and the hot sun and crowded streets were beginning to cause a lethargic weight to crash upon her. She settled herself under a shady ledge of a building to attempt to cool down. Her eyes closed and she rested there a moment.
Even by just listening to her surroundings Sam could tell that she had reached her destination. She could hear talk of exotic silk, spices, and jewelry coming from the vendors as well as their patrons.
She resumed her search.
"You there! You look like a strapping young man! Would you be interested in buying this beautiful, hand crafted rose pendant? Any woman would love the man who gave her it!"
Samantha kept her head down and walked determinedly through the market. The vendors were a minor nuisance but one that she had precious little time for. It was difficult, but she managed to walk around the market three times in about a half an hour. She was about to give up when a voice from the other side of a stall piqued her interest. Sam peeked her head around the corner to get a look at the man who had spoken and she pinpointed him as the younger of the two men standing there.
"Hassim, what is it you have for me?" A second voice that belonged to a man in his late thirties asked. He was dressed more humbly than the first man but was still obviously wealthy.
"My master, Asham Ragoul, wishes for his order to be placed immediately and to arrive tomorrow at the destination in this letter." The younger man was dressed in fine silken robes, ones which price would have probably fed a family for weeks.
"Of course, anything for the finest man in this city," the man bowed low.
"Your flattery will get you nowhere old man," the younger spat, "now go on with your business and make sure that this letter gets to the right people."
"Of course," the man bowed again and scurried off into the market.
Sam knew that she would have to get that letter, and there was no place better than in a crowded market.
She began to tail the man as he rushed through groups of nobles, looking back every so often as he did. It occurred to her that he might know he was being followed, but the idea was preposterous. Samantha knew that she was doing everything just as Altaïr had instructed her to. She always walked behind others and acted as inconspicuous as she could; there was absolutely no way that should would be found by a backwards glance.
Her prey continued onwards and she hung back as long as she could, waiting for the perfect opportunity to show itself. She made her move when the man entered a tight crowd of people where there would be no way that he would take note of someone even brushing up against him. The finesse required to pickpocket someone was immense and she knew that she hadn't had enough time to practice before leaving Masyaf. At this point she was just praying that she had chosen the right moment to move and that she could get the letter without drawing attention to herself.
Luck was on her side that day. Samantha had easily nudged through the crowd of people, timed her reach perfectly, and clasped tightly onto the paper before slipping it out of the man's pouch. Sam turned on her heel and retreated as quickly as she could while tucking the letter into a pouch on her belt.
Her nervous pulse was still thudding in her ears and she forced herself to breathe normally. She was immensely proud of herself, and a small part of her hoped that Altaïr would be too. Despite all of his glares and disparaging remarks she still cared for her mentor's opinion, especially since she was trying to prove to both Altaïr and herself that she could become an assassin.
Samantha wasn't sure how many clues about her target she was supposed to get. She knew that he was detrimental to the community as well as where something would be delivered to him and she supposed that was enough. If it wasn't then she would go back out tomorrow and postpone the assassination.
The sun was getting low on the horizon and she decided to head back to the bureau before it became too dark for her to navigate through the city. She managed to ignore the amazed gasps of passerby's as she crawled to the top of a roof. A light breeze pulled at her hood as she ran and she threw it back, figuring that she wouldn't need it as long as she was off the streets.
It was much easier to tell where she was from higher up and Sam quickly determined that the bureau was back to the east. Her feet took her unerringly across roofs and over walkways; the fact that she hadn't messed up once today was a major confidence boost. Her heart felt as if it was soaring which made the trip feel much faster and before she knew it she had jumped off of the roof and into the bureau.
Night had now fallen upon Damascus and more lanterns and candles were lit within the building than there had been in the daytime. Upon her entrance to the main room she was tackled into a hug.
"You did it! I bet you found a bunch of information!" Amy squealed excitedly as she clung to her friend.
Samantha couldn't help but to let a giggle escape from her lips.
"What did you learn of your target?" Malik asked as Amy released her.
"Well he's a noble's son who inherited his father's business and is now reaping most of the benefits for himself, leaving little for those of lesser standings," She recited the words that she had been going over in her head on the way to the bureau.
"Do you know what his whereabouts will be as of tomorrow? What of your plans to assassinate this man?" Altaïr, of course, doubted that she had fully completed her task.
"I will," Samantha dug the letter she had stolen out from her pouch.
Sam opened the letter and began to read, her eyes silently skimming over the words. "The letter gives the exact location he will be tomorrow with a detailed map. Asham will be in the rich district," she finally told them, her expression suddenly sour, "and he ordered whores."
"Is that why Al Mualim wanted us to do this mission?" Amy questioned, rounding on Malik as she did.
Malik took the scroll that Samantha shoved into his hands. "Your target is constantly guarded except for when he is with women," he explained, "you will simply have to get him alone, nothing more."
Samantha wanted to be more upset, but his logic was solid. She would simply have to handle it, as she always did.