A/N: writer's block plague me at every turn, but I think you'll enjoy the finished product! Music inspiration included "the omega suite" maroon, epica's 'classical conspiracy' album which may or may not have contained a Pirates of the Caribbean cover …
Once again, I thank my loyal reviewers: TLMonkey, Dolphin2ii, Shamazaki, Assassin's Creed superfan, ecnal, and flyingcrispi!
**Shamazaki stood beta for me and again is responsible for more detailed setting; I'm not allowed to be a slacker!**
Also, I added my OC's stats to my profile page; will be building on it as I add recruits and detail to the story. I need to get moving, Revelations comes out in 4 months and I still have a lot of ground to cover in this fic! Which reminds me, AC belongs to ubisoft...
The great gate leading out to sea rose ponderously as water filled the dry dock. Alessa slung her pack down as Ezio tossed his to the deck before her. She opened one satchel in preparation to stuff the cannon mouth with Markku's accelerant.
"Let's see if you can bite your master's hand, shall we?"
Alessa glanced up at the sound of Ezio's voice as he took the tiller. He was looking intently out to the horizon as he steered the craft out into the open water. She followed his gaze out over the waves in the bay where four ships bearing familiar flags were anchored.
She laughed incredulously as she pointed out to sea.
"You think we're going to take down all four?"
"Easily."
Oh.
Well alright then.
The cannon was a marvel. It was engineered to shoot multiple cannon balls. They were a little smaller than what she had ever seen before – maybe the size of both of her fists. As Ezio moved them through the water relentlessly toward their first target, she rushed to load the cannon and take aim. The wind over the water combined with their speed and the spray of the sea was exhilarating.
"The sails," she heard Ezio yell to her. "Aim for the sails and the whole thing will burn!"
She nodded and waited until they were a little closer; she wasn't sure of the thing's range and didn't want waste ammunition. She also wasn't sure how Markku's additive was going to work. When she could clearly make out the soldiers milling about on deck, she lit the fuse and aimed, hoping she had the right angle of trajectory set up…
Her first shot was damn lucky. She had loaded the thing with five balls of shot. She hollered wordlessly in delight as they burst into flame and ripped through the heavy sails of the foremast like a dagger through rotted cloth.
Fascinating.
The accelerant seemed to stick to the cloth and the flames spread like the whole sail had been soaked in pitch. She probably didn't need to set the other two alight to sink the ship, but it looked like Ezio wanted her to do it anyway as he steered them deftly out of the path of the archers that were lining up at the doomed ship's railing.
She re-loaded, jumping when cannon fire from the ship roared past them to hit the sea, producing a great plume of water. Heated droplets sprayed over her as she spun the cannon around to take aim at the sails amidships. She found herself laughing with an almost maniacal abandon as she was drenched yet again by another near miss from an enemy cannon. She waited until they were in range and fired. Her angle was too low and she only managed to take down the archers conveniently lined up at the railing.
Oh darn.
She chuckled to herself and loaded the cannon again, Ezio keeping her in perfect range. They took down the final two sets of sails in short order. The fires had become a roaring inferno onboard and the remaining soldiers and sailors were abandoning ship frenziedly. She could feel the intense heat at her back as Ezio banked their craft and they left the doomed ship to its fate.
Alessa's heart felt like it was going to take flight as Ezio drove their craft towards the three remaining ships. Even now, she could see the porthole covers being removed and cannons appearing broadside on the nearest galley.
Her hands were surprisingly steady as she stuffed the muzzle of the cannon preparatory to the next shot. She felt their forward momentum begin to slack off a bit just before Ezio stepped to her side.
"My turn," he said, that calm, impassive expression on his face that indicated he was about to give something his full attention.
And not in a good way.
She backed off of the cannon immediately and took the tiller. It took her a moment to figure out the slightly more complex steering mechanism but she eventually got back into a rhythm. It took all of her concentration to steer the craft in the roiling waves and a pang of nausea swept over her.
Ah, hell.
She threw all of her concentration into rowing the damn boat. Pulling on the tiller with all her might, she banked the craft to let Ezio get a successful shot onto the first ship. Ignoring the steadily increasing waves of dizziness, she managed to keep them just ahead of the cannon shots. Arrows plopped harmlessly into the water around them, sounding like a shower a deadly pebbles; they were just out of range.
She brought them in a wide arc around the cluster of ships, heading out to sea before swinging around to bring Ezio in good alignment for his next shot.
Battle was a funny thing, she mused. Once you got into a rhythm, it was all the same. Avoid being hit. Maneuver into position. Go for the kill. Repeat. If you kept your wits about you, you were potentially invincible. If you ignored the voices in your head arguing about right and wrong, you didn't hesitate. If your body didn't clamor for rest, you outlasted opponents, and you kept your life because you were stronger.
Simple truths. Just like the Creed.
And just like the Creed, the simplicity masked the labyrinthine dangers of the depths.
She was numb as she watched the railing of the nearest ship explode – sending bodies flying – each lifeless form representing a failure of mind, spirit, or corporeal form. Each of them could have avoided their fate: jumped ship at the cost of honor, taken out herself or her maestro with a well-aimed arrow, destroyed her craft with a smidge more patience at the broadside cannons.
Abruptly she understood why soldiers – those authentic, life-long fighters and veterans of combat – well, she understood why they spent their down time getting drunk and reliving the excitement of victories and forgotten glory.
Because battle itself was fucking depressing; a victory for yourself was gained at the expense of another's loss.
The final ship was in shambles. Burning wreckage floated disconsolately atop the waves, carried from trough to crest for a time before disappearing into the darkness below.
Ezio was silent as he stood at the prow of their craft, one hand still resting casually on the remaining ammunition. The Master Assassin seemed to be lost in thought as well. They were quiet for a moment: he contemplative, she trying not to puke as they bobbed in the water.
And then the moment was over and both became brisk as the threat of attack became larger with each passing moment. Ezio stuffed the cannon mouth a final time and dumped the remaining accelerant packets on the deck. As she jammed the tiller, he aimed the cannon down at the craft itself.
"Go," he said, "I'll have you a distance away before I set the fuse."
Relieved, she leapt into the sea and began swimming for an inconspicuous portion of the distant docks. She was physically and emotionally exhausted, but the feelings combined to form a sort of numbness that she could work with. Not to mention that once she got off the damned craft, the nausea eased.
Bliss.
She had never swum quite this distance before, and had to alternate distance-eating strokes for resting strokes on her back. She heard a muffled roar as the cannon destroyed itself and not long after, Ezio pulled alongside her, pacing himself to her.
So intent was she on her physical efforts that she almost swam face-first into a pile-on. Dazedly, she followed Ezio up the side of the dock.
Dino swung down from the scaffolding of a nearby tailor shop as they pulled themselves from the water. He rolled to his feet just in time to hold a hand out for her to take.
"Well look at you, aren't you a vision? What a lovely piece of flotsam!" he laughed as she got to her feet and dripped. She sulked and slung her arm in his direction, the water drenching her sleeve spattering him lightly.
"Easy there, ninfea, I don't want my equipment to rust."
"Ass," she said fondly to him as he gave her a quick hug around her shoulders and bumped her forehead with his. He stepped back and grinned suddenly at her.
"You both make quite a pair, tesora; matching drowned rats!" Ezio gave Dino a baleful look as they clambered back up the scaffolding to the rooftops. She grinned back as they lined up at the edge, overlooking the bay, and gestured meaningfully to the burning wreckage before them, black smoke boiling spectacularly into the sky.
"I guess all it takes is a couple of water-logged rodents and Leonardo DaVinci to sink a handful of war galleys, eh?"
Back at the inn, Alessa was changing from soaked Assassin robes back into her plain gown for the return to the Orsini palazzo. She kicked her damp field gear off into a corner and toweled her skin dry for what felt the first time in weeks. Time really had a way of slowing down when one was stuck in chafing wool and stiff leather. She bundled herself into shift and then gown, casually appreciating the simple strokes used to paint the tiny flowers onto the silk screen that gave her a private corner in the open inn room as she started on the seemingly endless row of buttons up her back.
Ezio sat across the way at the room's desk, hurriedly reading through a pile of mismatched papers and scratching out rushed missives and tiny carrier pigeon notes, trying to catch up with the correspondence Machiavelli, La Volpe, and Bartolomeo (via Pantasilea) had sent during his absence. Apparently the nearly month long trip to Valnerina had resulted in a huge backlog of paperwork and Ezio's allies were making sure that the Master Assassin was kept occupied with his part in managing the Assassin Order.
Ezio had only removed his tunic, boots, and armor; he still dripped a bit in his sodden trousers. A towel lay across his shoulders, keeping his damp hair off of his skin. So distracted was he with his paperwork that he had not even finger-combed the bits of seaweed – collected on their swim into the harbor – out of his hair. His bare feet were crossed at the ankle underneath his chair, toes curling and uncurling as he frowned at his papers.
As she struggled with tiny buttons behind the privacy screen, Dino, as was his wont, was proving his enduring diligence for both amusing and irritating her…
"Carnival freak," he called out offhandedly as she contorted her arms behind her to get at the damn buttons.
"That's crass, ciccino," she called back; fucker was peeking! He scoffed,
"Cacophonous crow."
"Craven criminale."
"Cimice!"
"Carbuncle!"
"Coprolite!"
Silence.
"Oh Lord, they have a new game," Ezio grumbled, not looking up from his reading. But a second later, sincere amusement emerged as a deep chuckle.
"That's not even a word; you made that up," she accused, emerging from behind the screen to glare at him, hands on her hips.
"Didn't."
"Define!"
"Durable dated dung."
"Jesu Christu," Ezio interjected, "Both of you shut the hell up!"
Dino shrugged, flashing her a grin as he tilted his chair onto its back legs, resting his head back against the wall and closing his eyes as he crossed his hands over his chest. Alessa snickered as she moved to the side table to pour herself and her comrade a drink. She surreptitiously passed a hand over Dino's glass and then brought both to the room's dining table, settling herself with a contented sigh. Dino reached out and wrapped a big hand around his glass, settling the cup on his chest after he took a deep draft.
Markku loped in, followed by Tullio, both of them carrying garment bags and irregularly-shaped bundles. They dropped their burdens and bee-lined for the chilled wine as Alessa sipped hers.
"It's chaos out there," Markku as he sat next to her, his drink slopping over the rim as he gestured spiritedly, "You'd think no one had ever seen four war galleys spontaneously combust!" He sipped his wine and Alessa saw his pupils dilate as his face went lax with his delight. "Ahhhh!" he drawled blissfully, raising his glass at Ezio, who wasn't paying any of them any attention, "You do know how to pick a fine vintage, maestro! Bevo alla tua salute."
Dino abruptly crashed to the ground, ass over elbows. Alessa felt herself grin in triumph as the other three men jumped and then proceeded to give candid opinions of Dino's grace.
"Hmmmm, you okay there, ciccino?" she murmured sweetly from her seat, touching her glass to her lips with intentional daintiness when Dino didn't immediately get up. The three unaffected men snapped their heads in her direction – green, blue, and black eyes all narrowing in identical expressions of suspicion.
Dino's eyes followed the direction of theirs and then she saw his eyebrows twitch as realization dawned in them. He frowned, the expression looking strange as he attempted to control what would be numbed facial muscles.
A providential visit to an herbalist's shop had given her the knowledge of the mixture used in surgery to temporarily paralyze a patient. Fucking disturbing when one considered the implications, but she supposed it had its uses. Sh ecertainly had found a use for it.
Of course, the old bat wouldn't sell to her – not a dottore who fully understood its use! Bah! – so Alessa had ruined three of her lock-picking tools to avail herself of the concoction. She had left behind double the amount of what the powder cost; she may had inadvertently broken the lock in her attempt to pick it. She was an honorable thief, dammit.
Totally worth it – the money and the tools.
"Oh dear," she murmured, standing up and walking over to inspect the contents of his wine glass. "I do believe that something might have been slipped into your drink. You really should be careful; there are so many people out there that would try to take advantage of you."
An outraged expression made an attempt to animate his features.
"Poor baby," she cooed, leaning down to softly touch her lips to his still cheek. She grinned as she looked up and regarded the astonished men with an air of studied casualness. She almost broke when she saw Tullio giving tiny indications that he was getting ready to burst into laughter.
"I think we should just leave him there," she said airily, sitting up and briskly dusting off her skirts.
Ezio choked as he struggled to maintain a grave expression. Markku didn't have any compunction about sparing Dino's dignity and jabbed at Dino with his toe, drawing renewed, fruitless struggles from the helpless Assassin.
"How long until it wears off?" the green-eyed Assassin wondered, leaning down to poke a curious finger at the downed man's face.
"Long enough for me to get away," Alessa said, grabbing Markku by a wrist and lugging him out of the door.
"But –" he began, gesturing helplessly at their party clothes.
"We'll send a runner," she said hastily.
Judging by the glint in Dino's eyes as he began to regain control of his body, his limbs flailing ponderously, Alessa knew that she would have to watch her back. She giggled nervously and successfully pulled Markku around the jamb and into the hall.
Well, he had started it.
She heard Ezio speak, just before his laughter chased her down the stairs,
"I'll be having my florin back, Demasi."
Their messenger from the inn arrived with their finery for the evening. Amidst the now-familiar black and golds of their extravagant suite at the Orsini palazzo, Alessa made sure to carefully check over her silks for any suspicious dust – it would be just like Dino to hit her with some sort of itching powder. The excitement of not knowing what he might do in retaliation was exhilarating.
The ball that night had a black and white theme and her gown had been commissioned by the Baroness herself; the woman was apparently using Alessa's gown as a test for a new dressmaker in town. The Baroness had delighted in the gown's crafting. Flawlessly white, the color of purity, it invoked feelings of an innocence that Alessa knew she no longer possessed. Should it be odd that white was also the traditional color indicating that an Assassin was about to ply his trade? Well, she had no intentions on letting her blade make an appearance this evening.
The gown, by itself, was simple enough. What made it interesting was the white on white embroidery on the bodice and skirts; the detail was extraordinarily intricate. The skirts were made of layers of airy silk but the addition of the extensive embroidery gave the flowing lines a gentle weight. The dress was a wearable work of art that Alessa truly hoped wouldn't get ruined.
On that note, she had to remember to check Markku's pockets; he was liable to have some sort of exploding contraband secreted somewhere on his person...
Their little maid had had to help her with her hair. Current fashion in Napoli called for women's hair to be secured back into veils or headdresses. There was no way in hell she was going to be caught in some of the monstrosities of pearls and lace that turned female heads into pedestals proclaiming worship to some deity of gaudiness. The girl had twisted her hair into sections and coiled it all artfully atop the crown of her head, weaving a delicate scarf of sheer white silk through the dark waves of her hair. It looked quite nice and she avoided looking like some sort of demented bride.
Markku had cleaned up nicely; Alessa had to admit that he looked quite dashing in his new black suit. His unevenly trimmed mahogany hair, usually mussed in wild disarray, was behaving itself for once. He had also scraped off the red-tinged perma-stubble on his cheeks, revealing the surprisingly fine lines of his jaw and chin. She supposed that the near permanent crooked smirk he maintained had distorted his true aspect to her eyes.
Whatever. And there was no way she was telling him, either; their maid's big eyes and blushing cheeks had his chest puffed up like Dino's cacophonous crow.
And she really, really wanted to hurl a rock at said pretentious rook.
The party was in full swing when they finally made their entrance, pausing once atop the sweeping staircase descending to the ballroom to take in the monochromatic splendor. White flowers of all species contrasted richly with black tablecloths and curtains. The women were especially dazzling in their snowy gowns. In their attempt outdo one another in the display of their jewels; they outshone the candlelight in platinum, opals, diamonds, and even a few black sapphires.
The dark, polished parquet floor wasn't black – Orsini wasn't tearing up his ballroom floor to replace it with boards to match; he wasn't that wealthy – but the already dark wood contrasted nicely with the gleaming white, stark walls confining the dancing and eating to the huge room.
Even Nature obliged for the color scheme; a full moon shone with ethereal paleness in an indigo sky. It peered shyly into the tall windows circumventing all but one wall of the room, it's light toying with the outer edges of the indoor illumination that had ventured outside. The windows stood open to let in the cool breeze.
She and Markku had scarcely made their descent when the Baroness captured her for a dizzying round of introductions to other guests. The good lady was delighted with the results of her fashion discovery and was determined to extol the virtues of her newest dressmaker to all the ladies present. And here was Alessa, dress doll dummy.
Hmmm, alliterations were catchy. She giggled to herself quietly.
Alessa was exhausted when she finally returned to Markku, who was sitting at a dining table chair and surrounded by a sea of icy silks and frothy lace by the time she had extricated herself from Baroness Orsini. He reached out casually and snagged her wrist as she got near enough, pulling her off balance and tugging her neatly into his lap.
Perhaps his charm was working a little too well for him; he did look a tad flustered.
She wasn't saving him though.
She let her hidden blade ease out between them and the wall behind them and she pressed the point to his back, whispering a threat into his ear. Markku performed admirably, ignoring the blade at his kidney and closing his eyes briefly as he feigned a pleased expression. He smiled as she dropped a gentle kiss on his forehead, retracted her blade, and rearranged her skirts preparatory to standing.
As she stood, content that he would stop man-handling her, he unfolded his long body from the seat he had been lounging in to stand over her. He wrapped his hands around her upper arms and leaned down slightly to speak lovingly near her ear.
"Anteeksi, rakkaani," he murmured as he swept her hand up in his to kiss her knuckles. He turned briefly to bow his head at the ladies around them, retaining hold of her hand as she tried without success to extricate herself. "My wife is wanting to do this dancing," he winked conspiratorially, his accent in full, obnoxious attendance. Pearl-encrusted and feathered fans fluttered madly in their wake as he swept her regally to the dance floor.
The musicians were playing the tune for a vigorous country dance. The beat was adagio for the nobles, an adjustment to the melody that was mildly offensive to her ears. She had always particularly liked this dance, and to slow it down was criminal. Her skirts were heavy though, it was probably why not many could maintain the fast, complex steps in this type of setting – too much damn cloth.
"I should warn you," Alessa said, smiling sweetly up at Markku as they struggled to adjust to the pace and gain a spot in the crowd, "The last time I danced, someone got killed."
"Really?" he beamed, deftly spinning her out of the way of an over-exuberant couple, "The last time I danced, someone got kissed."
"You do it and I really will stab you," she informed him matter-of-factly, moving subtly away from him just in case; the man wasn't ever dissuaded by her threats. At least Dino pretended.
She might pinch him though. She looked up at him, speculative, daring him…
He threw back his head and laughed; she imagined that only she would recognize the slightly manic edge to it. But she grinned in delight when he twirled her again. He was just a little out of step but he managed a lot of little flourishes that the nobles couldn't or wouldn't perform. The final notes of the piece were still being played when she heard a familiar voice, pitched only for them to hear,
"Might I have the honor of a dance with your delightful lady, messere?"
She fought the urge to grin like some addle-brained, love-struck teenager as she performed the final bows of the dance to her partner and then turned to face Ezio. The Master Assassin was garbed just as richly as the wealthiest of the nobles – and his presence was twice that of any man in the room. Alessa was frankly astonished that he hadn't caused a riot; how could they not know who he was?
And who did he think he was? Swaggering in like this was some casual barn dance out in the middle of nowhere, what the hell?
He had managed to exchange his white Assassin robes with a suit of similar cut in fathomless black. The material was edged crimson and his simple white cape had been replaced with a more elaborate one of black velvet lined with red silk. The cape was heavier than normal, but it furled and shifted luxuriously with the just the breeze created by his movement, giving glimpses of the crimson underside. The effect of the cape and crimson highlights of his suit gave him the appearance of being wreathed in a living flame. His sword and crossbow weren't in evidence, thank goodness, but his hidden blades and pistol braced his forearms. His hood was down and it spilled over his shoulders in a puddle of darkness.
The total effect gave him the look of the proverbial fox in the henhouse. He wore colors of violence and passion and death – a stark contrast to all the overwhelming whites and muted blacks surrounding him. Combined with his dangerous grace and easy authority, he could have been a visiting king, gracing the shabby nobility of a less powerful nation with his presence.
So what the fuck did he want with her?
Ah, Dio, she was over-dramatizing again. She needed to stop it. This was Ezio: her friend, her mentor.
And damn, but she wanted to be near him so badly that it hurt.
She couldn't find words as he took her in his arms just after bowing congenially to Markku. Her fellow apprentice winked at her and moved out of the crowd and she could only smile back at him in a daze. What was it about this man that turned her into such a fucking simpleton?
The musicians shifted seamlessly into a divinely slow piece. It took her a few bars to get used to the steps. But they were simple, easy to pick up, and soon she was comfortable enough in the melody to finally look up at him and raise an eyebrow in question as he swept her elegantly across the floor.
"I may have bribed the conductor," he said without a hint of apology in his voice.
"Uh huh, and you do know that this could be considered scandalous? A newly married woman, dancing with someone other than her adoring husband?" She stole a glance over at Markku, who did not appear to be wanting for the lack of her company; he was surrounded by the fan waving brigade again. And damn pleased with himself, too, the bastard.
Ezio didn't reply, only pulled her closer. She was effectively overwhelmed, so of course she shut up. God, she hoped Dino wasn't around somewhere to see what a twit she was. Of course he already knew, but giving him proof didn't help.
What the hell was Ezio doing here anyway? She hoped his face wasn't recognized in this city; he was less notorious here than in Roma. But still…
"Ezio," she began, stroking his arm distractedly in an attempt to mask her feelings, "You shouldn't be here."
"I've infiltrated parties like this countless times, cara mia," he smiled down at her, and she found herself smiling dreamily back.
Oh, really. She thought scathingly to herself.
"Well, you're, er… distracting," she whispered, revealing the truth of her unease to both herself and to him.
"Am I?" An eyebrow went up; he was delighted. Then his eyes narrowed and he turned the full force of his charm towards her. "Explain it to me," he asked, his voice resonant.
"You are such a jerk," she muttered, blushing madly as his smile turned knowing.
Cristu.
The space between them seemed to crackle as the playfulness was swept from him suddenly like a chill wind over a stark plain. Try as she might, she couldn't resist him. The man could ask her to blow her cover in this very public setting and she would do it without hesitation. Her awareness of her surroundings faltered dangerously as her senses clamored for her to get closer to him.
"Stop it," she whispered.
"I'm not doing anything," he whispered back, his voice hoarse.
Liar.
At the thought, she felt the ghost of humor make an attempt to calm the tension between them. It failed. She took a breath.
"Ezio…" she began. His eyes darkened as she spoke his name, he moved imperceptibly closer…
"Assassino!"
She jumped, frozen in place as he looked out over her head, more annoyed by the interruption than anything. The musicians skipped a few notes, the melody skittering like a startled child before the music finally crashed to a halt. His eyes came back down to meet hers and he smiled charmingly as he brought her knuckles up to his lips, covering his words from those around them.
"Make your excuses and leave in the next hour. We will rendezvous at the ship and leave for Roma immediately."
She didn't even have time to nod before he whirled suddenly to disappear into the confused throng. She saw a flash of metal at his forearm as one hand came up to sweep his hood over his head. Guards, hampered by their ornate ceremonial armor, milled about at the edges of the room, converging on the swift figure in black and crimson. Another pair shoved their way past her, jostling her aside in their haste to go after the Assassin.
Her heart pounding, she watched as Ezio vaulted over a seated couple on a bench and out into the night through the open window behind them. Seconds later, the Orsini guards tossed the bewildered man and woman aside in their attempt to follow the Master Assassin's route.
She hoped that her masquerade hadn't been discovered. Across the room, she saw Baron Orsini gazing at her in narrow-eyed suspicion. She let her own gaze pass over him without a blink, letting her questing look flow naturally until it came to Markku.
"Who was that ääliö?" he asked with wounded petulance as she returned to him. Alessa shrugged, both to mask her trembling hands and to make a show of bemused nonchalance.
A veritable sea of female eyes raked her as she approached and her nervousness was dispelled by annoyance. What the hell was he saying to them that was so damned appealing anyway? Especially to keep their attention when the party had been infiltrated by a notorious Assassin? She had the feeling that all thoughts behind those beady little eyes were involved in imagining some bodily damage for her near future.
What a pack of crazy bitches! Her shoulder blades itched as she made her way through them to park herself at Markku's side; if the Templars recruited these ladies, the Assassins would be in trouble.
She giggled a little to herself as she imagined what they would do if she let her hidden blade make an appearance. She swept her gaze across the group, taking a page form Markku's book and letting her grin become slightly crazed. She thought of blood on her blade and the moment of a satisfying kill. The hard glares faltered a little bit.
That's right, ladies, she thought, letting her smile slack off to a casual bearing of teeth, back the fuck off my man.
Cristu, now she believed her own scam!
Markku, in the meantime, was oblivious to the exchange, and was busy dragging her away. Right. They needed to leave. Instead, their measured flight was blocked by their hosts.
"Päällikkö Loikannen!" Madonna Orsini gushed, stumbling a little bit on the pronunciation of his name and title, "What a wonderful dancer you are!"
Markku smiled crookedly.
"A man is only as good as his partner," he said in that graceful, accented speech of his, "It seems that even the Assassin himself sought to distinguish himself by her nimble feet."
Alessa just barely managed to keep a straight face.
"He was the cause of the loss of your previous job, was he not?" Baroness Orsini asked.
"That is true, signora," Markku replied solemnly, "I barely escaped with my life. But in a way, he facilitated our meeting," here he took Alessa's hand in his, "So I feel that I owe him some small thanks!" He and the baronessa laughed merrily.
All of a sudden, Orsini's hand snaked out to shackle her wrist, wresting her hand from Markku's grasp. For an aristocrat, he had a strong grip and Alessa had to resist the urge to break it by burying her hidden blade in his throat. She covered up her anger by casting her gaze down and then over to Markku, who had grown quite still. The ugly stub was quite noticeable with the fingers of her left hand held up high for the baron's inspection.
"Did you know," Orsini said softly, dangerously; she could see him staring malevolently at her out at the edge of her vision, "that the mark of an Assassin was his left ring finger amputation?"
"A spider bite, a few years ago," she lied smoothly, pitching her voice low to disguise her nervousness, ignoring the sweat trickling down her spine. If the man shifted his grip, he would find her hidden blade beneath her sleeves. She looked up and faced his gaze, "It became infected and I had to have the finger amputated before the infection spread." She shuddered delicately in a display of feminine aversion and averted her eyes modestly again.
Oh yeah. She was even better than Markku!
Orsini continued to eye her. Her fingers were slowly turning purple in his grip. His wife tittered nervously.
"Oh, Girolamo, leave her alone! She's a sweet little thing. An Assassin! Really, you're becoming overly suspicious, amore mio!"
"Who are the Assassins?" another lady asked timidly.
Orsini scoffed and nearly spat in his disgust as he flung her wrist away from himself. Markku took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his elbow. To anyone else, his carefully blank expression would signify mild affront at Orsini's actions. To her, it looked like Markku was being very careful to hide his wary relief. Alessa turned her face into his shoulder to hide her own nervous grin of relief.
This should be good…
"Harbingers of chaos, sneakier than thieves, more fickle than mercenaries; Assassins are the enemy of progress. They ply their trade by attacking those in power, leaving the populace without direction. Their goal is to leave the whole world in anarchy."
"I heard that an Assassin may have been responsible for the incident in the harbor today," Alessa offered, growing restive in her desire to defend her order. Her hands bunched into fists and for once, Markku sought to regulate her nervous energy by absentmindedly smoothing graceful fingers over her knuckles.
"Of course he was responsible!" Orsini yelled. The chatter around them quieted uneasily for an instant before starting back up again.
"Of course he was responsible," he continued in a lowered voice, "Halting progress, destroying ships used by Cesare Borgia to keep the peace in his efforts to unify Italia under one flag."
"That man seems to be unkillable," Markku remarked. Orsini nearly snarled.
"What man? Is there only one? I can't believe that was him!" Alessa prattled, looking over her shoulder pointedly at the window Ezio had escaped out of. Her goal was to continue the conversation, convince Orsini that she was harmless; maybe they could gather some useful intelligence from this Templar ally.
"There's an entire Order of them! Thousands; scattered all across the civilized world. But we have a plan for the Assassins. Despite that infernal group's penchant for creating chaos, I cannot deny that they are skilled. It will require highly trained hunters in order to fully eradicate them like the animals they are. I am personally vested in seeing to it that such a group is formed."
Against her will, her smile faded.
"Then it seems as if the side of good shall prevail," she murmured. She tilted her head up at Markku to give him a pointed look, and then returned her attention to the Baron. She bowed her head respectfully, first to him, then his wife. "I am quite tired, messere, signora; I find that all the excitement has exhausted me early this evening."
The knowing, almost-leer she received from the baronessa brought her smile back.
"Wait there, Loikannen," the Baron called. She and Markku slowly turned to face Orsini, who was gesturing to a couple of the laughably armored guards. Well, their armor might be overdone, but the swords were functional.
Merda.
"Take some of my guards to stand watch at your chambers; I'll have someone come to escort you to work in the morning."
Markku couldn't do anything other than bow his thanks. He put his arm around her shoulders as their clanking shadows followed them to their quarters.
Alessa was comfortably changed out of her cumbersome evening gown and had just loosened her agonizing updo when a noise out on the balcony caught her attention. Silently, she drew her knuckle dagger, not wanting to take the chance of anyone possibly seeing her Assassin blade at this point. She crept to window nearest the balcony doors – the one with the view of their upper story patio – and peeked past the heavy curtains.
The movements in the shadows resolved into a familiar figure. She waved Markku back; her green-eyed partner had drawn his boot dagger.
"It's Ezio," she said, sheathing her dagger and opening the doors. She stepped out onto the balcony and closed the doors behind her. Glancing around the palazzo for curious eyes in a window, she greeted Ezio with reservation as he clambered over the railing.
He wasn't going to distract her here, damnit. Not when they were alone.
Well, almost alone.
He moved immediately to lean against the wall lazily; he wouldn't be immediately apparent to casual observers from the windows.
"I thought we were going to meet you at the ship," she said, inquiry in her tone as she walked over to the railing to lean on it, her back to him – as if she were just out to observe the sea in the moonlight.
"Dino and Tullio were scheming in my absence," he replied, a proud note in his voice. "Please make sure you inform Markku that he is to go to his workshop tomorrow instead. I do apologize, but we're going to destroy his playground."
"The Baron has guards outside our door with orders to escort him to work tomorrow morning. He's suspicious, Ezio."
"He's right to be suspicious. The reason that you have emerged from this farce alive is not due to Orsini's gullibility, but to Markku's ingenuity and your discreet reconnaissance."
She chuckled nervously, her laughter cutting off as his arm brushed against hers as he came to the railing beside her. Forgetting her goal of keeping at least three paces away from the Master Assassin, she faced him.
"He said that they were training people especially to target us, maestro. Do you think we should be concerned?"
His expression became pensive.
"We can have our informants look into it. It's good to know; we'll have to remain watchful, be extra careful in our infiltrations. If it's more than just a passing boast, it may become a problem."
Her fingers caught in the finely woven linen of his black robes as she reached out to grasp his forearm, the physical touch comforting her somewhat. She didn't think Orsini's revelation was an idle assertion.
"I rather like you in black," she heard herself say, entranced by the sensation of the exquisite cloth on her skin. He chuckled, pushing off the railing to stand upright and look down at her with a grin,
"You really can't stay on one subject for long before you get side-tracked, can you?"
"I'm sorry," she said, only half meaning it as he grasped her wrists and pulled her upright to face him. He stepped back and leaned against the wall behind him. At this angle, she could meet his without having to look up; it was a profound sensation. He gave her wrists a firm tug and she was drawn forward, stepping between his knees to lean against him. She felt like she was being wrapped in shadows, an intangible embrace warm with the heat of his body, an inviting pool of oblivion.
He held her hands captive against his chest, transferring his grip to one hand so he could reach out to brush her unkempt hair out of her face. The feeling of his fingers in her hair was startling, intimate. He regarded her solemnly for a moment before speaking,
"Carina, when we return to Roma…"
She heard Markku calling to her from within the room.
Ezio sighed and released her so that they were standing a decent distance apart when Markku came outside.
"Oh, and I brought these for you," Ezio pulled a leather satchel over his head and passed it to her, "No need to play the role of grieving widow tomorrow. If Orsini has guards on your room, he already knows you're an Assassin; he'll just be waiting to separate the two of you when Markku leaves tomorrow so he can set his guards on you."
Markku was frowning suspiciously.
"We're destroying your workshop tomorrow," she informed him as she swept past him and into their suite.
She finished the sentence Ezio had started in her head: when they returned toRoma, she was going to make damn sure she had him all to herself, for once.
The next day, as she perched on their balcony railing, she swept her gaze fondly over the city of Napoli for what would be the last time from her palazzo view. Inside the suite, her lovely new gowns hung neatly in their wardrobes, her fine new jewelry encased in their velvet-lined boxes were stacked just so on her dressing table. The room was all tidied up, a few personal items lying casually about as if she and Markku were returning later that day.
She left behind everything except for that gorgeous parure Markku had somehow acquired; a choker, earrings, and hair combs characterized by exquisite platinum netting entangling and suspending tiny, flawless sapphires. She intended to build upon that visionary jeweler's work one day.
That was the only reason she wanted it. She didn't plan on ever wearing any of the pieces or anything.
Her hooded head turned in the direction of Baron Orsini's ammunition workshop as a huge explosion resounded across Napoli. A casual observer of the palazzo balcony would only have caught a flash of white as she leapt for the rooftop.
Translations:
Ninfea, Italian, water lily
Tesora, Italian, treasure
Cimice, Italian, bedbug
Bevo alla tua salut, Italian, Drink to your health
Anteeksi, rakkaani, Finnish, apologies, my love
Ääliö,Finnish, jerk
