Kostantiniyye

1495

Yusuf watched the eager young Assassin leap proudly off the vantage point, before plummeting thirty-two feet and landing safely in a large cart of hay. His eyes flickered in the direction of his apprentice's target, standing but a mere few yards away at a merchant's stall. The portly nobleman was blissfully unaware, too preoccupied with impressing the few scattered Romani women with his rings and bangles to hear the soft crunch of straw, or notice a man dressed in modest tan and off-white robes slip out, trailing fine particles of hay and dust.

The Assassin-in-training merged with the small crowd. Yusuf watched his face – noticed him make eye contact with one of the Romani girls, and tilt his chin ever so slightly. The women smiled at the condemned man and waggled their fingers before abandoning him to his fate. The nobleman paused, distracted by the sight of both women's impressive backsides as they swaggered away.

"Simdi." Yusuf whispered, knowing the young man was counting off the seconds in his head.

He struck. It was finely-timed, and his movements were appropriately subtle. His hidden blade entered in at the base of the rich man's spine, thrust upward in a single killing stab, then just as quickly retracted. The man staggered where he stood, and the Assassin slipped out of the crowd as easily as he had slipped into it. He made his way around the corner of the bazaar just as the frightened screams started. Yusuf stood up from the kneeling position he had been in and nodded his head, pleased. The kill had been quick, efficient, and clean. He turned away as a mob began to form around the Byzantine corpse. His apprentice had performed well.

"Master Yusuf? How did I do?" The young man's face was serious, but Yusuf could tell he was fighting to hold back the grin that threatened to escape. Yusuf nodded slowly, seeming to ponder the question.

"You slipped in and out without being spotted. The kill was elegant. You performed well. Ey, save for one problem."

The grin that had been just about to break through vanished abruptly. The young Assassin suddenly appeared indignant.

"What did I do wrong this time?"

Yusuf frowned slightly. "First off, do not treat my guidance as a chore to be endured and barely tolerated." He noticed with a certain amount of satisfaction that his student appeared properly humbled at his rebuke. Yusuf's expression and ton softened.

"But secondly, you risked letting your target see you when you leaped off a roof and landed all but a few feet away." He smiled lightly. "If he were not such a vain man, he most certainly would have spotted you. Take care with your approach, Soto. As long as your victim does not identify you, they will not flee."

The Assassin youth nodded slowly, looking thoughtful. "You make sense, Maestro."

Though Yusuf had received the Spanish youth, Casimiro Soto, as an apprentice all but four months ago, he had already found himself quite taken with the boy. While only eighteen, Casimiro had a sharp mind, and equally Sharp wit, and had already proven himself eager to learn. And to Yusuf's intense gratification, Casi had almost immediately jumped to the top of the students. But with talent breeds competition, and Bajram had more experience teaching then Yusuf himself did. Nasim Almasi was a highly intelligent girl, and already an artist with the crossbow, Bajram's specialty. Yusuf knew they would likely be Casi's greatest competition, although Shahin and Pembe, Seref and Rafat's apprentices respectively, were quickly coming into their own.

Yusuf couldn't help but grin – their students were as competitive as he and Baj had been. And they seemed to thrive on each other's friendship; Yusuf knew this to be as beneficial to an Assassin as bread and water.

The Master Assassin led his apprentice on a sprint across the rooftops, back toward the Galata headquarters. Casimiro kept up well, using his new hookblade to his full advantage and seeking out zip lines. Yusuf managed to stay well enough ahead, but he had to admit that Casi was getting faster with each passing day. Yusuf made a mental note not to forget honing his own skills in the process of improving those of his student.

Yusuf reached the edge of the bazaar rooftop and leaped, bringing his hookblade around to latch onto a zipline. For a split-second he felt the wind rush through his hair and the blood pound in his ears – before he came to a neck-jerking stop. Yusuf kicked out, finding himself strangely suspended maybe thirty feet above the activity taking place in the mouth of the marketplace. Startled, he struggled to peer over his shoulder, only to hear Bajram's somewhat amused-sounding voice in his ears.

"And this, Nasim, is but one way to catch an opponent by surprise."

Yusuf growled, now understanding there was a perfectly good explanation for finding himself suspended in mid-air. The other assassin stood on the rooftop behind him, his hookblade buried in the back of Yusuf's tunic. He twisted, breaking the contact between the back of his tunic and Bajram's hookblade. The sudden movement also broke the contact between his own blade the hold it had on the zipline, resulting in the Assassin plummeting a good four yards before grabbing onto a small section of the building that extended out over the crowded bazaar. It acted as a supplier of cool shade on overly hot days, but on that day in particular, it seemed to also protect at least one bazaar occupant from meeting an untimely end via an Assassin's boots in his neck.

Yusuf gripped the fixture tightly, swung his legs hard, and pulled himself up. Cursing angrily under his breath he began to climb the structure, only to see Bajram soaring high above him on the zipline, followed closely by Nasim. Fighting back the urge to hurl a well-aimed stink bomb in his fellow Master Assassin's direction, Yusuf hauled himself up the last few yards, encountering his own rather embarrassed recruit.

"I am sorry, Maestro. But he – "

"No time." Yusuf cut him off abruptly, looking right peeved off. "Hadi. We'll catch up." Casimiro nodded, and the two took chase. Yusuf shot down the zipline, eyes zeroing in on the back of Bajram's head. Baj might have been able to catch him off guard, but Yusuf believed he was the more fleet-footed of the two. And despite Bajram and Nasim's massive head start across the rooftops, Yusuf knew the streets and alleyways of Kostantiniyye like the back of his own bilek zırhı. All he needed was the right opportunity.

His eyes flickered down. Without pause he pulled his hookblade away from the zipline, causing him to freefall. He landed heavily in a cart overflowing with rose petals, clearing out right as his apprentice dropped in after him. He nodded to the small group of women standing nearby, breaking into a cool smile when the one who was more familiar to him then all the others waggled her fingers flirtatiously.

"Come." Yusuf said quickly to Casimiro, who looked nothing if not confused. "I think now is a good time to introduce you to some friends of mine."

"Teşekkür ederim." Yusuf told the beautiful Romani woman, complete with graceful bow and kiss to the back of her hand. "I am forever in your debt."

"You were already in my debt, canım." The woman Yusuf called Silki replied smartly, but seemed moved by the Assassin's gentlemanly gesture, nonetheless.

"Kesinlikle. Now, if you would excuse us."

"We will be ready."

Yusuf led his apprentice through the twisting Constantinople streets. Vendors cried out to them, eager to make a quick sale, but the Assassins had a far more important mission to attend to. Pride had been wounded. Retribution would be swift. Once they reached their destination, Casimiro found himself barely able to contain his excitement. Yusuf reminded him to be patient, although he couldn't even keep the hungry grin off of his own face. His apprentice shifted his weight anxiously from foot to foot, but otherwise remained still. The Master Assassin heard a quick succession of thuds and raised his head just in time to see a figure – made dark by the blocking out of the sun – soar over his head and land gracefully in a thickened bush not ten feet away. Yusuf rounded back behind the corner, grabbing Casimiro's tunic and pulling him along with him. A well-to-do tailer began to proudly display his wares, but quickly closed his mouth when he received not one, but an identical set of seething glowers. He wisely decided to flaunt his fine Persian garments elsewhere.

For a moment Yusuf thought perhaps they had lost their Romani followers, but then Silki's heavenly purr caught his ears, and he risked a quick glance back around the pillar. Silki – along with two more of her Romani sisters – had quickly attracted Bajram's attention. Yusuf's smile curled into a smirk. Bajram could hound him all he wanted about his 'adventurous' nights in the Constantine District, but Yusuf figured the swarthy bastard got out almost as much as he did. The only difference was, Yusuf preferred the company of the dancing Romani women, while Bajram distracted himself with a lukewarm brew and a girl or two from the discreet brothel/inn in Galata. And lucky for Yusuf, Bajram was not nearly as familiar with their Romani allies as he was.

Although he does take it upon himself to visit the thieves guild once every few moons... Yusuf mused thoughtfully. He briefly wondered if Bajram didn't have a regular hanım of his own.

But there was little time for distractions. Yusuf watched in outright amusement as Silki glided up to Bajram's side, brushing her soft palm against his cheek and murmuring in his ear. Nasim tilted her head to the side and kicked a toe at the dusty ground, content to at least stop and rest for a moment. She would be the one to slip past... Yusuf was content that Bajram was fairly distracted.

The pair emerged from cover, careful to move quietly over the rocky, cobblestone terrain. Yusuf met Silki's eye and winked – for her part, she backed a couple feet away from the now thoroughly entertained Assassin and began to dance. Yusuf caught snippets of the conversation as he and Casimiro drew near.

"You really should come visit us more often." Silki was saying, concentrating on the slow, steady gyration of her hips. Bajram mmm'd in reply, watching her with a bemused expression. Silki smiled, turning around and peering at him from over her shoulder. She pursed her lips together, one hand beckoning to the Assassin.

Bajram arched a brow. "Normally I would never indulge in such affair..." He murmured, reaching out to lightly touch the dancer's fine hair - a dark cocoa-brown that perfectly matched the rich, deep hue of her eyes.

"...but there are rumors of a powerful Romani curse that seeks out and destroys those who anger them." He surrendered control of his hands to Silki, who placed them on each of her hips. She faced him, her lips dangerously close to his throat.

"I would not want to place myself in harm's way."

"That is true, Assassin. Although if I were you, I would not concern myself with worrying about the curse of the Romani." She smiled, placing a light, but rewarding kiss along Bajram's jawline, before letting go of his hands and stepping cautiously back. He looked to her, a subtle fog of confusion in his eyes, before something cold and primal flooded through him. He let out a sharp curse before feeling a sudden weight drop onto his shoulder blades, roll off his side, and then throw him to the ground, grunting loudly as he landed hard on his chest and stomach. The air was knocked from his lungs. He blinked, momentarily dazed as his lungs struggled to expand, and then succeeded. He gave a low groan, trying to draw his elbows under him in order to push himself up. He met only the firm resistance of a heavy figure seated on his back, directly over his center of mass.

"And that, Casi, is how you perform what we Assassins call a hook-and-throw."

"...by Allah's name, Yusuf, if you do not get off of me this second, I will not be held responsible for cutting your throat." Bajram growled threateningly. For his part Yusuf barked a laugh. A short ways away, Casimiro beamed in triumph, keeping poor Nasim's arms wedged tightly against her sides. She was putting up little struggle – Casimiro was well capable of keeping her in check.

Yusuf took the time to lord over his friend and rival. He was enjoying this far too much to make it easy on Baj.

"Recall that you are not the only one who can sneak up on someone, Baj." He reminded the other Assassin over the annoyed rumble of unvailed threats.

"As for engaging assistance from my friend Silki," he grinned widely in her direction, and she responded by blowing him a kiss. The Assassin caught it deftly. "...it helps to make friends in the district."

"I trust you did more than just make friends." Bajram curled his lip, raising his chin up off his hands. He managed to force his elbows under his torso, but he was still winded from the air being knocked out of him.

"Uzerimden in!..."

"I'm not finished yet."

"Evet – yes, you are." Bajram retorted, pushing himself up. Realizing his fun was over; Yusuf was quick to slip off the downed Assassin's back, just in time to avoid a solid smack aimed at his head. He danced away, grinning wildly like a cat with a canary caught in its mouth.

"Sadece bekle ve gör..." Bajram snarled under his breath. Yusuf nodded to his apprentice, who was quick to let Nasim go.

"You already got me, Baj." He responded cheekily. "Consider this retribution." He watched warily as Bajram proceeded to dust himself off and motion to Nasim, who joined him. She might have been caught as well, but she didn't appear to be in nearly as foul a mood as her teacher. For his part, Bajram looked pissed, but Yusuf knew it would fade quickly. His friend simply hated being shown up in front of his own student, something Yusuf could well attest to, himself.

"If you are finished annoying me, perhaps we could return to the den." Bajram offered lamely. Yusuf shrugged, careful to stay a healthy distance from the other Assassin. Just in case.

"Sanırım."

"I have caught word that Ishak's condition has been in a steady decline since this morning." That caught Yusuf's attention. Their Mentor had not been fairing well the last few years, but the last two months had gotten especially difficult for him. He now spent more time in his bedchamber than ever before, leaving more and more of his duties in running the Order to Yusuf. For his part, it pained Yusuf greatly to see his great Teacher in such frail condition. He spent hours with him, almost every waking moment he wasn't seeing to Casimiro's training, listening to his Mentor's stories and words of powerful wisdom. He sought to soak up every last ounce of knowledge from the man before he passed on. Yusuf was not naïve – he was under no impression that his Mentor would live on forever, although he knew from the shock on some of the younger men and women's faces that many of them had somehow believed that to be true. Whether Ishak Pasha had five weeks left or five years, Yusuf was sure to stay by the old man's side up until the end.

He crossed his arms over his chest. "And you did not tell me?"

"Where do you think we were heading?" Bajram replied with an arched brow. Yusuf frowned, but had to concede him that much.

"Fine. Then let's go."

"Mentor." Yusuf pressed his tightly fisted hand to his breast. Ishak Pasha raised his eyes from the scroll he had been pouring over, and motioned for Yusuf to seat himself. The Master Assassin chose a spot on the Persian rug near his Teacher's desk, crossing his legs comfortably and leaning forward.

"I had heard you were not well."

"I feel myself growing more tired with each passing day." The old man said wearily. "But still, I go on. It has not taken me, yet." The old man's mouth, well-lined with wrinkles and creases, formed into a grin.

"Evet, Mentor."

"Now listen." He pushed aside the parchment and quill and fixed his intelligent eyes on those of his pupil's. "I have made it no secret who I wish will take over the Order when my time comes. You have grown from a boy thief to a skilled man in so short a time. I am proud of you, Yusuf."

The Assassin felt his heart swell with pride. But he was careful not to let his enthusiasm show. The respect he held for his Mentor was far too great. This was an immense honor that Ishak was bestowing upon him – to receive it with blind eagerness instead of calm dignity would show only disrespect.

"Your words honor me, Efendim." He tilted his head respectfully.

Mentor Ishak Pasha took a deep breath and with great effort, pushed himself up from his desk chair. Yusuf immediately climbed to his feet, ready to aid his Teacher. Ishak gave no objection as Yusuf appeared at his side, taking some of his weight onto his own shoulders. He could see now that his Mentor had truly weakened a great deal, even in the barely fourteen hours since he had last seen him. How long a man could go on in this condition was unknown to Yusuf, but the Great Ishak Pasha was anything but an ordinary man.

"Allow me to aid you, Mentor."

"I only need to be taken to my chamber." He said tiredly, taking short, slow strides, leaning against his trusted and most gifted student. "Yusuf, for a man of my age and condition, leading the Order comes as more of a burden then a gift. My days, as they are, are limited in number. Haydan gelen huya gider, so they say."

Yusuf nodded knowingly, but remained silent. He had the feeling his Mentor was about to bestow upon him something great.

Ishak continued as Yusuf helped him maneuver up the mercifully gradual staircase leading to the sleeping quarters. "As I grow old, I begin to question my judgments. I am of sound mind, I assure you. Even in sickness, I am in charge of my own facilities. But what, I sometimes wonder, of the Assassins? I begin to think; perhaps I best leave the care of the Order to my most trusted protégé."

Yusuf gaped at his Mentor, finding himself frozen in shock, while Ishak took it upon himself to make himself comfortable in his chamber. Yusuf struggled with his words.

"Mentor, I...it's too soon... You are still capable..." Ishak held up a hand to halt his former student's stammering babble. Yusuf shut his mouth abruptly.

"It is not. Understand me, Yusuf Tazim – the Assassins need a leader who will be always at their side. Who will lead them into chaos with a steady hand. I have the will, Yusuf, but no longer the physical fortitude." He settled himself wearily on the end of his bed.

"You are what they require. You are ready." He smiled wisely. "And you will be a strong leader." He lowered his hood, preparing himself to rest for awhile. Yusuf swallowed. He wanted to speak...he tried. But the words knotted themselves in his throat, and he could no more force them out then he could drain the Haliç.

"It has already been decided." Ishak returned his gaze to Yusuf. "You will find my written decree on the desk in my study. Signed and dated." He chuckled quietly as Yusuf's continued shocked expression.

"You knew this was coming." The old Mentor said, a note of amusement creeping into his otherwise serious tone. He stood, stretched, and made his way to the entryway. "Go. Inform the others. If anyone wishes to take you up on the matter, by all means, tell them to confer with me."

Yusuf at last suddenly found his voice. "Mentor! It will be an honor and a privila – " He promptly found himself facing a firmly closed and latched door. A slow grin made its way over his features.

Yusuf Tazim. Leader of the Assassin Order in Istanbul.

He very much liked the sound of that.

şimdi – now

maestro – master (sp)

bilek zırhı – bracer/wrist armor

teşekkür ederim – thank you

canım – my darling

kesinlikle – absolutely

hanım – mistress

üzerimden in – get off

evet – yes

Sadece bekle ve gör– just wait and see

sanırım – I suppose

efendim – sir

haydan gelen huya gider – the tide ebbs, and the tide flows