Notes
Affedersiniz: excuse me
Effendi: sir
Pic: bastard
Chapter Nine: Enigma
Having returned to Masyaf, Altaïr banged his fist down upon Al Mualim's desk. He was infuriated that the Mentor sat there indifferently after saying what he did. "We cannot just leave her to die!" Altaïr protested angrily. "I've heard rumors about Cyprus– it is no place for a woman, much less a girl like Tülay! Even with the training she's received, it will do her no good against the likes of Isaac Comnenus and his vile men!" He pushed himself away from the desk before being compelled to smack its contents to the floor. Pacing to and fro did little to calm him, though.
"She knew the dangers associated with the mission, Altaïr, as did you."
"I wasn't expecting her to become the victim of a cruel bargain between Cyprus and Jerusalem!" the man in white retaliated. "You must allow me to take a few men to Tyre. We can sail to Cyprus and rescue Tülay." 'If she hasn't been killed before then...' He shook his head violently at the thought.
Al Mualim laced his fingers beneath his chin. "Cyprus is beyond our reach, Altaïr. We have no informants there, no safe places for you to rejuvenate. We know not the layout of that island nor the nature of its inhabitants. I am not going to allow you to potentially lead your brothers to their doom."
"Then you are condemning our sister to death. I'm going to find a way to bring her home regardless..."
"You. Will. Not." Al Mualim stood, glaring. "I forbid you to leave this stronghold."
His mouth dropped open, incredulous. Did Al Mualim really just confine him to Masyaf? "Master..." Altaïr almost pleaded but knew it would be foolish to argue the point further. Stifling his rage, he spun on his heel and exited the chamber. When he got to his room he slammed the door. He circled it a few times, growling and muttering to himself while refraining from throwing his personal things about. "If Al Mualim won't let me help her, I'll just have to send someone else..." An unexpected knock came. Altaïr opened the door under the assumption that a guard had been assigned to keep an eye on him, but instead he faced the concerned visage of Telash.
The youth bowed slightly. "Master Altaïr, I've heard a terrible rumor. Tell me... is Tülay lost to us? Is it true?" The boy's eyes begged for the answer to be "no", but Altaïr's blank expression and somber silence revealed the truth. Telash sighed heavily. "So, she is on Cyprus. Yet another victim of Isaac Comnenus' insatiable lust."
Altaïr tilted his head back, looking down his nose at the boy. "What do you know of him? You must tell me."
Another hopeless sigh. "He is a violent, tempestuous man who loves nothing more than defiling virgins and making the lives of the people as miserable as possible. He seldom leaves the stronghold in Limassol, but when he does he is surrounded by his mercenary army. Murderers, debauchees, thieves, convicts of all sorts who had no power in their homeland yet have attained it by following Comnenus."
"The man sounds paranoid, traveling with such a force," Altaïr mused. "What is he afraid of?"
"Richard the Lionheart," Telash answered. "Isaac taunts Richard with his conquest of Cyprus."
"Just how did you acquire this information, boy?"
Telash smirked a little, mussing his hair. "I read. The archives have written accounts of many events from witnesses who were actually there."
"I see... Let us go to the library, then. While I have been forbidden from extending a hand to aid Tülay, there just may be something you can do."
"Me? But I-I'm just a novice!"
"Yes..." Altaïr grinned, "and that is why no one will notice your absence."
Isaac's stronghold was not very impressive from the outside, but within its simple stone walls and below the ground were myriad rooms and halls. Tülay referred to the maze as a den of serpents. Very few of Isaac's loyal soldiers spoke a language besides Greek or Latin so it was nearly impossible to communicate with them. Throughout the day they escorted her to various activities, but each morning was always the same. Gritting her teeth, Tülay let the man undress her, which he did very slowly, before stepping into a bath. Isaac silently watched her wash, and when she was done he would clothe her in strange outfits that supposedly made her look like women from Greek mythology.
Sometimes Isaac was Apollo, the sun god, and Tülay was Daphne, a nymph he pursued around the castle. Other times they were Andromeda and Perseus, Helene and Paris, or Leto and Zeus. He was fond of bondage and enjoyed watching as she struggled to get free. Tülay entered a partial fugue state as the man tormented her each day, but all she could feel when she went to sleep were the burn marks his fingers left on her skin. If Talal hadn't taken her cuff with the Hidden Blade, she would have killed the Lord of Cyprus with it.
Isaac's other source of pleasure was derived from slaughtering innocents; Tülay learned this after a week in captivity. She sat beside his throne while wearing her dance costume, wondering what new seduction techniques he would attempt later. But then one of the soldiers shoved the double doors open and threw himself at his lord's feet. "Sir Isaac," the man panted, "there is a rebellion growing in the market!"
A bored expression remained on his face. "So why have you come here instead of remaining by the sides of your brothers?"
The soldier swallowed nervously. "My company... was slain."
"...By the peasants?" Isaac clarified. Tülay braced herself for what the clipped words would unleash.
"Yes. They were armed, and far exceeded our numbers."
In the next instant Isaac rose from his chair, flew down the steps and slit the soldier's throat with a dagger. Tülay gasped, closing her eyes against the pool of blood staining the floor. "YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED WITH THEM!" the man bellowed, grabbing the sheathed claymore that leaned against the armrest. As he exited the throne room, the men who had been standing idly by rushed to form ranks behind their lord.
Tülay took this opportunity to locate an exit she could utilize. But there were still soldiers within the fortress, as she discovered when she nearly collided with a man in the narrow corridor leading to Isaac's room. "Ah! Affedersiniz…" She quickly deduced that he had come out of a door hidden behind a tapestry despite his attempt to shield it. Another glance informed her that he had a key on his belt. She smiled her most charming smile. "I am so sorry, Effendi. I was just on my way to change into something warmer. It is so cold in here." The soldier eyed her with interest but like all the others withheld any compliments. They knew she belonged to Isaac and he would kill anyone who touched her. Tülay used this to her advantage; perhaps if she could charm one of them into defying Isaac her escape would be made easier. Now, though, she really wanted to find out what was beyond that secret door.
When Isaac returned, his armor and face splattered with blood, he immediately disappeared into the bathing room and summoned Tülay a few minutes later. "What do you require, Lord Isaac?" She must not let him catch on to her scheme.
He sprawled in the tub, smiling smugly. "Scrub my back," he said. She approached hesitantly and knelt behind him with a loofah in hand. Thankfully a layer of bubbles shielded his lower body while she silently completed the task. Isaac groaned in relief, but the reprieve didn't last long. "Get in with me," he uttered, and the girl faltered. He swiveled to grab her by the waist, dragging her into the stone basin.
"Stop!" Tülay flailed. She had to invent a reason that would prevent them from being naked together, Allah knowing what he would do. "The bath oil you used..." she said, "it contains bergamot. It gives me a rash."
"Is that so?" To her great relief she was released. "My apologies, then. I wouldn't want anything to mar your beautiful skin." Tülay refrained from flinching while the man stroked her cheek. "I will be finished shortly, then I expect to see you in my chamber. I am going to try something I think you will enjoy."
'Unlikely, piç,' she thought while making a hasty retreat. The excuse bought her some time. She rushed to his room– not for the reasons Isaac wanted, but to search through his things to find a key to that hidden door. There was one for every lock in the castle and Tülay knew he wouldn't entrust any of them solely to his men, so there had to be a copy. With the help of a candle she rummaged through his dresser, armoire and bedside table.
Unknown to her, Isaac watched from the threshold. His eyes held a menacing sheen in the candlelight and his slow, steady breathing maintained his stealth as he crept up behind the girl, his footsteps muffled by the plush carpets. Tülay put her hands on her hips and sighed in disappointment. Isaac decided this would be an opportune time to make it clear that it was extremely rude of her to take advantage of his hospitality. "Failed to find what you were looking for?" She whirled around with a gasp, only to scream when he grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and shoved her onto the bed. "How long have you been thieving from me? Is this how you show your gratitude?" His grip tightened, soliciting another yelp.
Tülay hoped he would stop if she was honest with him. "I… I was just looking… for a key!" She exhaled when his grip loosened.
"A key?" Isaac repeated. "A key to where?"
"The room behind the wolf tapestry."
The man pushed himself up to study her face. The fear there was evident as was the curiosity that had driven her to such actions. He couldn't help but smile, unable to stay mad at her innocent visage. "You must trust me when I say there is nothing valuable in that room, nothing worth your time. Nothing worth my time either, which is why it remains locked."
"I am sorry, Lord Isaac," Tülay shuddered. "I am too—"
"Headstrong," he finished. "I knew that before I even met you. Only one other woman attempted to escape Talal as vigorously as you."
'Is that supposed to flatter me?' She said nothing, training her eyes on his bare chest. Anywhere was better than meeting his predatory gaze.
"And no other woman has ever set my heart beating as rapidly as you do now." Isaac abruptly lowered to her collar bone and inhaled deeply, making her tense up as his warm breath crawled over her skin. "I don't believe I have told you how much I enjoy basking in your scent… I bet you taste just the same."
"Taste…? Ugh!" Tülay cringed as she felt Isaac's hot, wet tongue on her neck. He had never done anything of this sort, but maybe that was all about to change. Maybe he was tired of waiting for her to come to him on her own. Maybe he would rend her purity here and now. This thought paralyzed her and made her numb to the fact that Isaac's fingers were creeping under her halter top. Then his callouses scratched her, setting off her flight instincts.
Isaac had pushed her shirt up and his mouth was descending upon her breast. With a shout the girl crossed her arms over her chest and scooted away; yet as if he had predicted the movement his fingers snagged her skirt and Tülay practically unclothed herself while scrambling to the other side of the bed. "You already have the body of a goddess…" Isaac remarked. "Now let me treat you like one." He pounced, trapping her beneath his muscular physique.
"Get off me!" Tülay shrieked and brought her knee up, narrowly missing the man's jaw. Something sparked in his eyes– perhaps rage at her defiance or the exhilaration of having to fight to get what he wanted. For a moment they stared at one another, then the girl somersaulted backwards off the bed, uncaring if she ran nearly-naked through the castle. She almost made it to the doorway before Isaac tackled her. "Hel–mph!" The man smothered her cry with his large hand, picked her up, and sat her down on the dresser. He shoved his waist between her legs, soliciting a fresh wave of terror at the realization that there were only a couple layers of thin fabric between her womanhood and his erection.
"Whatever is the matter, Tülay?" Isaac murmured while holding her jaw, forcing her to look at him. "I know you want this… I'm only granting your desires. I can feel them, you know…" His other hand slid up her inner thigh as tears began rolling down her cheeks. She knew it would be easier if she gave up, if she went limp and let Isaac have his way with her. She was an object to him, something he could play with and discard once he was bored. How long would it take him to tire of her, though? A few days, a week, a month? How many times would she be violated by this despicable man?
"There's always a way out of any situation..." It took her a second to recognize Rauf's voice in her mind. "Assessing your enemy is half the battle. You look for his strengths before his weaknesses– one must never underestimate their opponent. As a woman you will be considered weak, which you can use to your advantage. But I know you have a quick tongue, Tülay... Sometimes that is just what is needed to get out of a bind, rather than brute force."
Would words work on her captor? "Isaac..." she whispered. There was enough force in her tone to halt his offending hand. "Is this truly how you want me?"
He leaned back as she put on a coquettish mask. "No, Tülay, it isn't. I imagine you are not very comfortable, but you were running away from me."
She focused on her breathing; it wouldn't work if her heart was pounding frantically. "I was a bit overwhelmed by your zeal. I promise not to run if you release me."
Isaac considered this with a rumbling "hmm". "Perhaps I should tie you to the bedposts."
"But how could I massage you that way?" The man quirked his eyebrows and smiled, then released Tülay and backed away slowly. She slid off the dresser and held out a hand. "After you, my lord."
Her plan worked. Isaac lay on his stomach as she straddled his lower back and utilized everything she had learned about massage and acupressure from a Persian doctor whom Kilij Arslan had summoned after a battle. The sultan realized by then that it was impossible to keep Tülay out of his gardens, so he called her in and said "consider yourself lucky that I like your father", followed by "you may as well do something useful around here". At the age of ten she practiced massage on one of Arslan's advisers, a young scholar from a remote region of the sultanate. She increased the pressure as she worked her way up to Isaac's neck. Once there she jammed the tips of her thumbs into two points at the base of his skull, and all the muscles in his body suddenly slackened.
Tülay praised her memory; she never thought she could apply old skills to this new way of life, the life of an Assassin. 'Only if I make it back to Masyaf,' she reminded herself, and adjusted her clothing before returning to her chamber. She literally ran into a soldier on her way, a fresh-faced fellow who reached out to steady her.
"Are you all right? Did my armor hurt you?"
"No, I am fine." She gave this boy a once-over and was surprised that his gaze didn't dip down to her bare abdomen. "What are you called?"
He straightened and thumped a fist against his chest in salutation. "I am Ulric from the Duchy of Austria. How may I serve you, Lady Tülay?"
"Do not call me 'lady', first of all," she replied. Ulric visibly relaxed, shifting his spear to his other hand. "Secondly, I cannot wait here another day for Isaac to violate me." She punctuated the word and was thrilled when Ulric cringed at it. "I must get off this island. My parents have not heard from me in..." How long had she been gone from home? "...a very long time. They are aging and have no one but me to take care of them." Ulric nodded sympathetically. "Is that not why you joined Isaac's army, to earn money for your family?"
"You don't need to prey upon my conscience, Lady Tülay." Fear lanced through her as Ulric glanced up and down the corridor. He then indicated that she should follow him. They arrived at her chamber and the boy closed the door. She was wary, of course, but he moved to the center of the room and spoke in a muted tone. "Now that I have served under him, I know Isaac is not the kind of lord I can obey. He is godless. If your desire is to escape this place, I will aid you in that endeavor. I will even travel across the sea with you, but you must promise me one thing. You must never tell anyone it was I who helped you. Deserters are often punished with death, and I have too much to live for."
Tülay nodded in agreement. "We are the same in that regard, Ulric of Austria."
Things were different the next day. Tülay awoke after sunrise and no one came to escort her to the bath, so she was able to cleanse herself in peace. She needed to get Isaac's man-scent out of her skin. She put on a voluminous dress with an extra length of fabric that draped over her shoulder, a garment she heard someone refer to as a stola, and meandered through the halls unhindered. Upon reaching the throne room she found it completely vacant. Now would be an exemplary time to escape, but she had the feeling Isaac had left some of his men in charge to keep an eye on her, even if she could not locate them.
Tülay risked venturing into the garden, a green area surrounded by a high wall. Flowers in bloom assailed her sinuses, making her feel light-headed for a moment. The sun shone down from a cloudless sky and a breeze from the sea kept her cool. For a moment she felt a kind of tranquility she had not experienced in a long time. She then sat beneath the pergola and read one of the books left out on a table, The History of the Kings of Britain by Geoffrey of Monmouth, with some difficulty since there were many English words she didn't know. It was mid-afternoon when she finished and after stretching she heard someone calling her name. Ulric appeared on the steps leading to the garden. "There you are, milady! Are you enjoying it out here?"
"You are certainly polite, Effendi," she said, then nodded. "I am. Days like this remind me of springtime in my homeland."
"You will return there soon enough, I promise."
Her eyes narrowed slightly. "How do I know I can trust you?" She didn't want to get her hopes up even though her initial sense of Ulric was that he was more honorable than the rest of Isaac's men. He was her only chance of returning to Masyaf… to the Brotherhood. She very much wanted to trust him.
"I am a knight, Lady Tülay. I am bound by my word. I said I would get you off this island and I will make it so, even if it costs my life." The girl was almost affronted by this declaration. She certainly didn't want anyone to die for her!
Tülay retired to her room and fell asleep, dreaming that she had succeeded in her mission by discovering the whereabouts of the weapon Al Mualim sought. He was smiling at her, and Altaïr was too, and she received a real Hidden Blade. She had become an Assassin… and she used everything she learned to strike fear into the hearts of the Crusaders terrorizing her people. When she awoke the castle was alive with activity. Tülay cautiously made her way to the dining hall and scowled at Isaac seated within. However, he was not at the head of the table as usual; rather, a complete stranger commanded the attention of the entire room.
They both stood up and the girl marveled at how much taller the man was than his armored host. His skin was a deep brown hue she only knew of the people far to the south possessing. He was bald and there was an intricate tattoo encircling his left eye. They were the most intriguing feature of all– the right eye was brown but the left was solid gold and glimmered in the firelight. He gazed about with stony features, knowing he was superior to everyone in Isaac's domain. His attire consisted of loose white pants and a gold-embroidered jacket adorned with crescent moon emblems and shimmering blue cabochons. Tülay was so mesmerized by his appearance that she almost missed the conversation taking place. "Where is Soul Edge now?" her captor was asking.
"It is in the possession of someone to the east," the fascinating man answered, "but he is coming this way. He will be here soon."
Isaac's pulse quickened at the news. "Can you sense it? How strong is it? Powerful enough for me to decimate Richard's men?" He sounded like an eager child.
The stranger shook his head. "The sword is still weak. But I know what it searches for. It needs souls to consume, and there are many warriors in these lands."
Tülay's heart leaped into her throat. 'The sword? The one Al Mualim seeks? It is coming here?' She wanted to charge the meeting to obtain all the answers to her questions, but that would most certainly draw Isaac's suspicion. The last thing she wanted was more of his attention.
"Richard is besieging Arsuf as we speak..." Isaac pondered that fact before his face lit up. "The sword will make its way to the place where Englishmen and Saracens battle!"
"You cannot let it go to him."
"I know…" Isaac thought for a moment and his expression turned even more gleeful. "We can draw it closer to us! To Beirut, or Jerusalem! It will be in my possession before Richard even realizes what power it contains!" A scheme was forming in the man's mind. Bloodshed would attract the sword, the one so unique as Zasalamel described. Not just a sharp piece of metal, the blade had a will of its own; it could change shape to best fit its wielder and also granted tremendous strength... inhuman abilities, in fact. With it Isaac would become invincible and rule the Holy Land. "It must be mine..." he muttered, then glanced at the wise man. "I must recruit an army… Famagusta and the ports to start. Then we shall march inland to claim Jerusalem in the name of none but my own. Saladin's forces will be too late to save the city, and Soul Edge will reveal itself."
Zasalamel slowly lowered his head. "If this is your plan, I will separate the spirit of the sword from its host when the time comes. That will be your only chance to claim it." He narrowed his opaque eye, staring hard at the ambitious warlord. "You must not let Soul Edge take control of your mind. All who have sought the sword in the past have fallen victim to its lust for human souls. You must focus on your humanity." They exchanged more words but Tülay didn't hear them. Her mind reeled at the thought of completing her mission in a way that far exceeded Al Mualim's expectations. All he had wanted was information about the sword, which was apparently called Soul Edge, but if the Order could disrupt Isaac's actions and procure the sword first… No one could have imagined that!
Altaïr probably thought she was dead. She had not seen him in so long she didn't even know if he had been in Jerusalem during her abduction. If he was aware of Leharas' treachery why hadn't he come to Cyprus to rescue her? Perhaps it was too pretentious to believe he would do so. No, she was completely on her own… but that wasn't a terrible thing. Now that she had an ally, she could escape Isaac and complete her initial task.
There was too much at risk if she failed.
