Disclaimer: I do not own Assassin's Creed. I do not make claims to owning it. I'm just borrowing the characters, please do not sue!
Chapter XXV: The Slaver, Talal
Sandy walked buried in her thoughts, mulling over the information that Mary and Peter had given them. Even with that Altair was not convinced, and they decided to scout the locations near the barbican of the Muslim district. Sandy quickly discovered that the Muslim quarter was the biggest of the quarters in the city, encompassing easily half the total area. Set in the northeast of the city, it also had a very long section of wall; hence knowing the warehouse was near the wall did not end up helping them all that much. She kept her hood up and her hands in her sleeves, moving one foot in front of the other automatically as she trailed behind Altair. Her mind was busy grinding the information over and over, in a crazy vain hope that something would emerge out of the mess. Still, there was no use going over the same thing time and time again, expecting a different result, it could be construed as a sign of insanity. She needed to change her thinking pattern, proverbially tilt her head and squint.
She paused; to do that she needed a new approach. If one way of thinking didn't work, sometimes shifting the angle of view was all that was needed. She decided to fall back on something that she had over everyone else in this century, the scientific method. Everything in the scientific method began with a question. The question here was how the hell did a slaver get enough funds to buy off every single guard in the city, including any new individuals that were hired? When the question was articulated, it became clear that the logistics of such a task seemed too complex, too difficult for one person. Even with a small group of people who actually went about paying off the guards it was unlikely to be viable for long for various and currently mostly irrelevant reasons. Of all those reasons there was one that was relevant and very compelling.
To pay off the guards, there would have to be large sums of money. Everything started with that. Sandy hummed to herself as she thought about that one. It naturally caused her to formulate another question. Where was this slaver getting the money? Even if he was on the bankroll of the Knights Templar they wouldn't be paying him that much, why would they? She discounted that option outright. That left very few viable options, and most of them fell on simple economics. If he abducted people to fill the orders of other individuals, to pay off the guards he'd need to fill a lot of orders. The logistics of filling that many orders would be even more complex. He couldn't possibly be abducting so many people from the streets of Jerusalem; it would have been noticed by the citizens by now. There was no way to insulate such a thing from flying wild on the wings of rumors and whisperings. Then the only thing that made sense was that Talal had a much larger operation than they thought, he had connections in other cities, men in other places, a network. Such a corporate enterprise would naturally be far easier to trace and track.
However, it was then and there that her brain stopped, and rejected the whole idea outright, it was simply too complex. The idea that Talal had a nearly modern corporate approach to trading slaves; it did not fit what she knew of the period. She couldn't help but feel that her line of thinking was about right, but still a little off. There had to be something else in her theories that she was overlooking, and when a hypothesis was thus formed, it was a good idea to get a second opinion. She was fortunate to know some men who were born and raised in this period, Altair would be able to debug the theory of the bias her too modern way of thinking was inserting into her reasoning, and Malik would be able to confirm it for her.
"Altair, do you think Malik would be able to confirm something for me?" She asked, speaking for what felt like the first time in hours.
"What is it?" the assassin wondered.
"I was thinking about the logistics. The slaver's operation, if he has the guards in his pocket, would mean he must have a helluva cash reserve to pay them, right?"
"Yes-"
"But that's where the logistics fall apart. Where is he getting that money? How many guards does Jerusalem have? I imagine if he had to pay every single one, every month, or at whatever term- his income can't possibly support that and simultaneously run a profit- well without moving a lot of merchandise that is."
"You're thinking he can't be getting all his stock from Jerusalem."
"If his stock comes into Jerusalem- hell if just the profits come to Jerusalem, they can be tracked. What's the point of him paying off the city guards anyways? Logistics would suggest that'd he'd have to pay off the guards in all the other cities, and it's all downhill from there. Expenses would outpace revenues time and time again."
"What do you need Malik to confirm?" Altair wondered.
Sandy sighed; maybe she should approach a more direct explanation approach. "Altair, don't you see? It's too complex. That's why the logistics collapse; it can't possibly be a functioning enterprise at this time."
"Then what else is there?" he wondered.
Sandy hummed, "I'm uncertain. There has to be something." Her mind was racing, seeking the oversight, the simple, seemingly illogical explanation of it all. Altair's expression showed frustration, he wasn't fully following her, and she could guess that he probably thought she was leading him around in a circle with this one, and maybe she was. Maybe she was leading herself in a circle as well. Sandy placed a hand on his arm to try and calm him, she had to think. Maybe she had jumped the gun with the confirmation, with the second opinion. She had nothing of what could work, only what couldn't possibly work.
Money had to be involved; there was simply no other option. Kickback had to be in the picture, their source of information on that couldn't be lying entirely. So if they had these pieces of information, they had the system, meaning they needed the process under which it operated. She had to reverse engineer the whole thing. In that split of a second she knew she had been looking at the situation from the wrong end entirely. Who are in charge of the guards? Maybe Talal did not need to bribe the guards individually, but the man who had authority over them. She gasped in shock, and stopped. Altair responded to the quiet sound instantly, turning around. "I got it!" she stated.
"You got- what?" he asked.
Sandy looked up at Altair, wondering what the hell was her brain up to when it chose to overlook this option. "The guards have someone in charge! He didn't bribe the guards, he bribed that person! The kickback would naturally filter down." She made a frustrated noise "Lord, how I could have overlooked that? It's so basic!"
Altair's eyebrows furrowed, Sandy knew that look, he was thinking hard and not sharing whatever was on his mind. She knew that he often had a few other pieces of information that only formed a complete jigsaw puzzle when put together with her own pieces. However, she hated the fact that he didn't want to share his information with her. It frustrated her sometimes, but she knew that she was just the aide, the informant; it was his job as the assassin to put it all together and solve the problems. She was just one link on the chain, and a very low link at that. "Malik should be able to trace that man, no?"
"Yes."
"Then our web of lies, deceit, and treachery grows by one more. I have feeling there is a reason why Talal would pay through the nose for such a bribe. That person is best looked into, it can't be a matter of simple convenience. Furthermore, I honestly think if that person benefits from the slave trade-" Neither of them finished that thought, but Sandy knew that it was given. Corruption usually led to more corruption, pull on one thread and watch as the whole thing unraveled like a giant ball of yarn.
The silence between them resumed, even with the little revelation, there was nothing that could be done immediately. It wasn't like CSI: Miami when Horatio picked up the phone to call his men into action. She wasn't Horatio, and this wasn't her team, Sandy had to make do with that for the time being. Forty minutes later they knew they were on the right track in their search when they saw another group of black-clad men standing at the mouth of an alley, guarding it. Altair did not approach the group too closely; it was enough to watch them from a distance. Beyond the alley was a side street that banked away from view. Sandy glanced up at Altair and wondered, "I'm thinking this is the part where I bow out. Between the wall here, and the guards, there's no way in hell I'm getting closer to whatever is beyond there."
"We don't need to go further. The roof of the warehouse is visible from here-"
Sandy scanned the rooflines and realized with the start that in the distance she could see a line of beige roof over the other flat roofs of the neighborhood. A three storey structure among the sea of two storey ones. "We still don't have the opportunity really, we know how operates in from this warehouse, but- is he always there?"
"That is a slight problem, one that we should seek to correct."
Sandy hummed; she wasn't going to suggest they kill any more of Talal's guards, which would probably get noticed even more than the previous four, so there had to be another source of information. She was just drawing a blank as to what it could be.
"Come, we will check for other possible entry ways," Altair motioned for her to follow. Sandy followed, putting her hands back into her sleeves. They circled around the blocks, keeping the hints of the warehouse roof's line as a guide. Sandy was quick to notice that the buildings around the warehouse seemed to form a perimeter, almost like a second wall, enclosing the warehouse until there were a total of four openings, each of them guarded by a number of men. Maybe there had been an actual wall here at one point, except the wall was gone now, and only the houses remained.
"It's like a miniature fortress," Sandy noted as they came to within sight of Saint Anne's church by one of the city's gates.
Altair hummed in assent, and Sandy scratched at the back of her head, she knew that Altair still had a way into such a defended area; he had no aversion of going via the rooftops, something she could never do. She didn't think she'd ever have the physical power needed to make jumps over alleys, or the courage to run across rickety wooden planks on a daily basis. The whole prospect of doing that made her shiver a little. Just the thought that he could do that, with the whole arsenal he wore, made her wonder how strong and fast he'd be with the added weight removed.
Despite the people mulling about the church, Saint Anne's itself was quiet. The doors were closed and there was no crowd mulling on the steps to indicate that services had simply just ended. Sandy did not think there were services, the church was firmly in the Muslim district and with the crusade going on she very much doubted it was safe revealing oneself to be a Christian in the city.
Sandy placed her hand on Altair's arm as a way to keep track of him, he seemed to have a plow effect of sorts, some people sidestepped him to get out of the way, and as if sensing the danger he could be. However, her presence wasn't that grand, she had to keep close to him at all times, or risk being swallowed by a crowd. As they passed beyond the church, the main street was even more packed. In front of her was the walls that separated the temple mount from the rest of the city, there were some buildings pressed up against this inner wall, and two gates visible through which a steady steam of people was filtering through. Sandy realized with a start that they were due east of the beginning of the Via Dolorosa, the road that Jesus had supposedly taken on his way to be crucified. Visible at a distance down the street, set into the wall of the temple mount was a small building that was supposedly where Pontius Pilate condemned Jesus and had him scourged. She had learned about this route it in Sunday school, but she couldn't remember the other stations, she just knew the first and the last.
They turned to head west by the central road and walked some distance, this was taking them back towards the Christian district. As they arrived at the intersection that officially divided the Muslim and Christian they noticed the high presence of guards. Small groups of them were patrolling up and down the north-south axis street from the gate in the north, just barely visible in the haze of day, to the south and out of sight.
"… Look at all those guards." A voice spoke in outrage.
Sandy instinctively glanced to the source of the voice, a pair of men making their way north as they made their way south towards the bureau.
"I heard that some men were found dead about an hour ago. Their throats pierced by knives and what more they were…" the second men whispered the last part of the sentence to his companions.
Sandy pulled on Altair's arm, halting his step as she glanced up at him and jerked her head towards the two men's retreating backs.
"They're talking about you know what," she whispered to the assassin. "I think its best we listen to the voice of the streets. That never failed me where I'm from." They turned around and fell in step almost immediately behind the two men, close enough that they could listen, but far enough to look like they were just pressed into such proximity by the crowd.
"… I heard that those cretins tried to abduct someone. Finally someone is doing the job that needs to be done," the first man spoke.
"Who do you think did it?" the other wondered.
The first man waved his hand in a dismissive gesture, "Whoever he is, I say he needs to finish them all and be quick about it. If I met him, I'd tell him exactly what I heard in my shop. He'd find it most useful."
Sandy glanced at Altair and the two exchanged grins, perhaps it was worth waiting for these two to separate so they could get whatever this man knew, or thought he knew.
"… My wife is still complaining about the whole thing. She had a favorite seamstress among the Christians, but after her girl vanished- the woman hasn't been able to work. I can't say I'm not little angry myself, she did good work patching and for a good price. That slaver-" the man continued, stopping only briefly as they passed another group of guards. The two of them gave the men a strange look, but passed by. "I'd love to see that that man dead, but there is no way anyone is getting close to him, even if he is at his stronghold every day. He always carries a bow and his men are frightfully loyal. There was a one who tried, I hear- they beat him and his son to death and sold his wife and daughters as slaves."
"You know a lot, my friend."
"Only what I hear, sometimes it pays to be a barber."
"Perhaps we should stop this talk before we get in trouble," the second urged.
"You're right, who knows who is listening."
The group came to another intersection and as the two men continued on their way east, Altair and Cassandra casually turned south, making it look like they were out for a walk if nothing else. The side street led towards one of the small gates towards the Dome of the Rock, but it also turned another ninety degrees, facing west and that was where Altair and Cassandra turned, doubling back towards the bend of Via Dolorosa.
"If you can believe that one, I do believe we just hit the mother lode," Sandy stated.
"Nothing he said indicated that he was lying to his friend, I will have to go to warehouse directly tomorrow. We will see what happened then."
"That's that then?" Sandy wondered. "I'm getting kind of hungry now." Altair grinned faintly, showing his amusement. Sandy pouted, "What? Thinking too hard makes me hungry. Besides-" she paused there, unsure if she should finish that thought. She had noticed that in the past two months she had lost some weight. She had always wanted to ditch a few extra kilos given to her by the irresistible poison that was served hot and fast at McDonald's, but she couldn't have been bothered to simply exercise more. Now that she had lost access to fast food, and the exercise came as a fact of daily life, all the little bits of extra fat here and there had simply rolled off. She actually thought that she could stand to eat more to stop herself from becoming an utter spindle. She was called petite by most people, but there was a line between petite and a wraith, and she didn't want to cross it.
Emerging on the passion road they turned south again, heading down the main street towards the bureau. Sandy remained silent for all of another minutes before she actually felt compelled to fill the silence, as comfortable as it was. "I wonder if Malik has some parchment scraps, if we are to make sense of whatever the hell it is that's going on- It'd make things easier to write them down, get a nice little chart of the connections, of the things we know."
"Why scraps?" Altair wondered.
"Isn't parchment expensive?" Sandy wondered.
"Normally it is, but for this- I'm sure Malik could spare the expense."
"Well I'm going to need a quill and ink as well, naturally… and to be honest, I never wrote with a quill before, I'd like some scraps until I get used to it," Sandy admitted casually. "I'd also like to keep the main thing nice and clean, and keep notes on scraps-"
"You're working too hard," Altair stated.
"I did not-" Sandy exclaimed the third word, "just hear that from Mr. Workaholic himself," Sandy replied.
"What did you call me?" he asked, glancing down at her.
"A workaholic, it's like an alcoholic -a drunk- but work is like your drink," Sandy explained. His expression shifted to a faint mock grimace, indicating what he thought of the whole idea. Sandy could guess that he didn't like the comparison to someone who couldn't let work go any more than a drunk could let go of the bottle.
"Your time has some ridiculous expressions," he stated somewhat contemplatively.
"I don't dispute that," Sandy laughed. The sound made a couple people turn to stare, their expressions seemed blank and devoid of life, and it took her a moment to realize that it wasn't because she was laughing too loud, but because she was laughing, period.
They returned to the bureau via the usual way, the look on Malik's face spoke volumes when he laid his eyes on Altair again, but predictably it brightened when he turned to acknowledge her. Sandy was somewhat glad that she was in the rafiq's good graces, even if Altair was seemingly forever doomed to be in his bad.
"A little bit early to be returning, no?" he asked, setting his quill down.
"Let's just say- luck was with us," Sandy replied. Altair ducked out of the bureau to the yard, causing Malik's eyebrow to rise. Sandy grinned and approached the counter, "I think he's letting me do the talking," She rolled her eyes. "Actually, its better I do the talking anyways. If I put the information together right-" she paused to articulate her thoughts. "We came across some kids in the Christian district, actually saved one of them from abduction- they didn't say it directly, but they are convinced that the city's guards are paid, ordered, or something- they don't interfere with the abductions."
"I heard rumors of it," Malik replied.
Sandy scratched at the back her head and wondered, "Its like I told Altair, paying them doesn't guarantee cooperation, I really think they're not the ones being paid. It's whoever their superior is."
Malik hummed, rubbing at his chin in thought, "I suppose that would be easier, more reliable, and perhaps cheaper."
"Who would that person be?" Sandy asked.
"The guards answer to their captain; I will have someone look into this, just as a precaution."
"Great, that's actually kind of what I was going to ask. Right now there is just something going on, and its best to look into these things just in case." Sandy knew she sounded like someone who was high on sugar right at that moment, but she was actually proud of these little things. She had a brain, and knew how to use it.
"You are correct there."
"We also-" Sandy stopped upon seeing the look on Malik's face change, instantly commanding her not to say another word.
"Do not do Altair's job for him, the lout can give me the report himself." The rafiq stated.
Sandy laughed again, "Yea- you're right. Well then, here's something for little ol' me. You wouldn't happen to have a few scraps of parchment lying about that I could use? Well I'll need a quill and ink as well. There's something going on, all the targets thus far had been connected to Robert de Sable somehow, and I want to organize what I know… there's just so much information in my head right now, I need to put it in order on paper if I'm going to make any sense of it all."
"I will see what I have about. If I don't get it to you this evening, I'll prepare it for you in the morning."
Sandy nodded and smiled, "thank you so much."
"Your hard work is commendable, given that your reasoning has been useful before, it would be beneficial to allow you to continue your strange craft."
"I take no credit; I'm just doing what I can."
Malik shook his head and waved her off, Sandy took that gesture as a 'you are dismissed' and for all of a moment she was unsure of what she should do now. She knew better than to stand there like an idiot, because she would interfere with his work, instead she decided that maybe bothering Altair would be a better solution. Sticking her hands in the pockets of her jeans, she stepped out into the garden, eyeing her companion. "Malik didn't let me give him any information regarding Talal, that's your job. Up and at it."
Altair's expression changed to show her exactly what he thought of Malik's meddling, but the annoyance and frustration there weren't directed at her. Sandy thought she heard Malik's chuckle behind her, but couldn't be sure. She wouldn't have put it beyond him to be doing this out of their usual animosity throw down. Still, suddenly she felt a little like a ping-pong ball during the game. Maybe it would be smarter to avoid getting into the middle of it all, might save me a headache, she thought to herself as she moved to the carpet and plopped down on it. Altair stared at her for a long moment, but then got up and moved into the bureau without saying a single word.
Lying on her back she sighed in contentment as the stress of the day washed itself out from her system, today was a good day as far as days went in this century. She closed her eyes and tried to overhear what was going on in the bureau, but all she heard was the fact that there was talking going on, the words themselves were indistinct and inaudible.
~*~*~*~
Altair set off for the warehouse shortly after breakfast, just as soon as the meal settled in his stomach and he could take the rooftop way without developing a cramp in his side. Without Cassandra to limit his mobility to the streets of the city he only needed to descend once on Via Dolorosa, where the street was much too wide for crossing via the rooftops. Beyond there he made quick journey to the phantom wall that separated the warehouse district and its surrounding block from the rest of the city. The guards were still in place, alert as ever, but he got past them via the rooftops without them being any wiser to the infiltration. He almost wished he could see the look on their faces when their master would be killed while they were on guard. Guards like that were useless when he was on the job; he had infiltrated tighter security before. The Hospitaller's in Garnier's hospitals had been more difficult.
Still he exercised a little bit of caution as he made his approach to the warehouse, wary of any sort of ambush that might be laid out for him. Undoubtedly Talal knew of the four dead men from the day previous, if he was in any way smart he should have taken precautions, as useless as they would be. As he drew closer he began to notice the people inside the block. The poorest of the city were gathered around the warehouse, moving about their business with a deadened look on their faces. Even the children here seemed lacking in energy. The very fact there were children her left an unpleasant taste in Altair's mouth; the slaver was essentially holding the whole place hostage. If he was a skilled archer, any number of innocents could become casualties. He had to close in on the man without alerting him, as to limit the potential of innocents getting hurt.
The warehouse had a flat roof and a hatch, but the walls of it were a difficult climb, mostly smooth and the warehouse itself was set in a small plaza with open space along three sides, despite the fourth side being close to some houses there was still no way to simply jump across to it. There was no other choice than to descend to the streets.
Altair cast his eyes about the square, checking for anyone waiting for someone to appear on the empty plaza, but his sweep turned up nothing. It seemed like there was nothing living on square around the warehouse, so he was free to use the ladder propped up against the side of one of the houses. As his feet touched the street, he became keenly aware of the quiet surrounding him. Somewhere in the background there was the buzz of the main street and the few people shuffling about on the side street, but the square around the warehouse was deserted. Circling around the warehouse he spotted an open door, beyond it was only darkness.
It had to be a trap, but if the slaver thought he could take him unprepared he was gravely mistaken. Within the warehouse, the advantage of a bow's range would be minimal at best, and he wasn't going to stand still long enough for Talal to nock his first arrow. Still as he stood in front of the open door he decided that walking into an obvious trap was still not the way he would have chosen things to go. Still, there was something satisfying about killing the target when he thought he had the upper hand. With that in mind Altair stepped into the darkness of the warehouse.
~*~*~*~
Malik had proven true to his word, in the morning there was a small station set up for her to work at, it was just a small table with a rather simple chair set next to the counter. There were some scraps of parchment on it, one side marred by notes and bits of ruined maps. She also received a small scrap of vellum to wrap her notes in for transport. It took her a little to figure out how to write with a quill without smearing the ink all over, but she got the hang of it. Right now she was writing down all the various little bits of information on each target, and those who played a part and all information she knew about them.
Occasionally she felt the rafiq's gaze fall on her, he could be intimidating and she almost felt like a student under the gaze of a very strict teacher. She tried not to squirm and move about when he was watching. Trying to put it out of her mind, she appraised her handy work. On the biggest scrap she made a diagram of circled names connected with lines. At the center she put in Robert de Sable, everything was connected to him. Radiating around were the targets Altair had already killed. Connected to Tamir and Robert was an empty circle for the person to whom the first vellum letter had been addressed to. Garnier and Talal were connected for their obvious supply connections, and there was a second empty circle connected to Talal, for the man whom he was bribing to get the guards to turn a blind eye. For the dead individuals she drew a small and rather crude looking tombstone next to their circle. There was also a bubble for the mysterious man mentioned in the vellum letters. She circled it twice for emphasis before adding a little tombstone as well, jotting 'the information source' underneath, as she connected the bubble to Robert's.
Then she picked up a couple of scraps and each one was allotted to a single person, where she commenced to scribble every bit of information they knew. Which wasn't a lot, especially for the mastermind behind it all, and she added 'has a woman for a steward' just to fill some of the void on that leaflet. She was sure a profiling expert would be able to say something about that, but to her mind there was only one explanation.
~*~*~*~
The darkness in the warehouse was near total, and the silence was heavy, broken only by the sound of his footfalls on the ground. The two steps stirred something in the darkness; a low moan came from some distance in front of him. As Altair's eyes adjusted to the gloom, he realized that he was in some sort of small anteroom. Scattered about were various wooden crates and items. Set against a wall were some swords that looked slightly worse for wear. The air in the room was foul, filled with the pungent scent of sweat, illness, and running with the distinct undercurrent of blood, an acrid metallic scent he would know anywhere.
He moved deeper into the room and suddenly the door slammed shut behind him, rattling on its hinges, Altair didn't even flinch.
"I knew you would come, Assassin." A voice spoke.
He moved deeper into the room, knowing that it could only be his target. "What now, slaver?" he asked, however all he got in reply was silence, which was broken moments later by the rattle of metal as a door on the far side of the room opened. It was a message; he was guided deeper into the warehouse, deeper into the trap. Still, he had no choice but to obey, Altair crossed the room, ignoring the faint moaning coming from somewhere. As he stepped past the second door, it too slammed shut behind him.
The second room was almost pitch dark, save only for a lone shaft of sunlight penetrating from the ceiling and falling unto the ground. By the size of the room, it was clearly most of the warehouse's actual space, divided into two levels by a walkway. It was then Altair realized where the moaning was coming from, pushed up against the walls around the room were cages, within them were the missing people, mostly women, but a few men. They looked haggard and ill and the smell of sweat, blood, and illness hung about the room like a miasma. It was a truly reviling atmosphere, and what disgusted Altair more was the realization that a lot of the women were just girls as well. Once he was done with Talal, he'd have to tell Malik to send his men to raid the place and set these unfortunate souls free.
"I do not suppose offering you money will buy your promise to leave and never come back," the voice stated.
Altair looked up to the walkway, realizing somewhat late that there were men up there. They materialized from the deep shadows like specters; among them was one man with a bow, his target. There were ten of his soldiers around him, a number that would make getting to him difficult, he probably counted on them stalling him so he could shoot. It could prove to be troublesome, but not impossible, if his men weren't cautious, they themselves could catch an arrow from their master.
"Only your life will be enough to pay for all the misery you have caused," Altair replied.
Talal chuckled, emerging into the light of the sun streaming through the roof. "You say so while here you are, in my lair, among my men. Outnumbered and at my mercy."
"And there you are up there, like a coward. Come down and face me with honor!" Altair replied.
Talal sighed and waved his hand, "you had your chance, assassin. Now you must die."
The slaver's men reacted like dogs released from their fetters, descending to first level whichever way convenient, drawing their weapons instantly. Altair reached behind his back for his short blade, advancing into the shaft of light at the center of the room. The first attacked from his left, Altair sidestepped the swing and swung his arm, ripping the man's throat out with a single pass. The death of the first man triggered another two to attack simultaneously, Altair moved, not letting his back turn to Talal and the one thing that posed him any sort of danger in the melee. He blocked one swing and beat and simply dodged a second. In the slightly open window he kicked the first man to the knee, causing his to howl in pain as the joint gave way in a manner it was not supposed to, but the sound died a second later as his short blade found home through the man's neck.
Out of the corner of his eye Altair saw Talal shift position, the first bit of doubt appearing on his face. His eyes flicked back to the fight as the third man attacked again, anger triggered him to use some unknown reserve of energy and the first attack that Altair parried almost swept the short blade from his grip. Still the man was leaving wide opening, when he attacked again, Altair knew that blocking a raging animal would probably do less good than harm, so he simply dodged around the man and buried his short blade through his spine from behind.
Three down, seven to go, his eyes flicked back to Talal, watching as the discomfort grew. The man was no longer purely enjoying the spectacle; somewhere in the back of his mind he was probably beginning to realize that his men couldn't handle this task. Altair decided that a little bit of fear was probably a good thing; it would cloud the mind, and breed hesitation.
The rest of the men seemed to have missed the point; their attacks came just as recklessly as before, like true dogs ordered by their master. The fourth and fifth men came simultaneously; Altair had stepped back to draw them into a tighter formation. He dodged around them, slicing open the throat of one in the same movement, and sticking his hidden blade into the kidney of a second from behind. The five remaining men hesitated ever so slightly, allowing Altair to go on the offensive. A sixth man was downed by another thrust of his hidden blade, and when a seventh lunged at his back, Altair swung around and stabbed him in the stomach with his short.
"Keep him away from me!" Talal shouted.
Altair looked up and cursed, the slaver was running for the ladder at the back of the second level's walkway. At the top of the ladder was the roof hatch he had seen during his scan. The three remaining men surrounded him, but among the sea of bodies there were breaks in their lines. He spotted the ladder leading to the loft and made a run for it, already sheathing his short blade behind his back. The ladder shook and rattled as he scrambled up it and at the top he kicked it down so the other three men on his tail would be delayed. Talal was struggling with the latch on the trap door, this gave Altair a window to close the distance a little, still he managed to get the latch and slip through it and unto the roof. Altair gave chase in earnest; he was at the second ladder and scrambling up in a second.
Emerging unto the sun baked roof, his eyes were assaulted by the glare of the nearly noon-time sun. After being in the dark of the warehouse he was almost blind for a few seconds, but even through squinted eyes he saw the black and beige figure of Talal, running across the rooftops. He had jumped down unto the roof of the house where it was close on one side of the warehouse. Altair followed, leaping down unto the same roof and giving chase. The man had a head start, but he was losing it due to hesitation with each jump from roof to roof. Altair knew where he was going; there would be other men at the guard posts. He watched as the slaver leapt down from the roof unto a covered balcony and from there unto the street.
There was a gasp coming from the street level and Altair cursed, innocents were the last people he wanted to get involved in this chase. Talal could use any one of them as a hostage and it would make the job turn unpleasant. Without looking he leapt down unto the balcony and then the street, only to come face to face with Talal and his bow, an arrow nocked and ready. Altair cursed silently, realizing that he had just stepped into another trap, a cul-de-sac, and Talal was standing at the entrance.
"It is over, assassin." The slaver stated in a deathly calm tone.
The Tidbits Corner:
CSI: Miami: This is a television show aired in North America (and some other countries), the full title 'Crime Scene Investigation: Miami', basically it's a police procedure detective show, a very popular series. Horatio is the lead character of it. Felt the need to explain that one to my international viewers.
Director's Notes:
I know that is a very, very evil cliffhanger, given my recent update pattern, but please bear with me! I had to go biweekly. My university workload is such that I am barely able to keep up these days. Biweekly gives me the time to figure out my class work and write a good decent chapter. As much as I hate to be doing this to you guys after months of being weekly and regular, the problem should lift at the end of March when my classes are done for the semester. It sure as hell beats a temporary hiatus until then.
Again, thank you all for the massive influx of reviews in the past two weeks. I think I lost count on how many I got, but I'm pretty sure there were a few new readers and such. Thank you all. And I want to wish a rather late happy new year to you all as well.