INTO THE FIRE
Twenty-nine
Word had passed quickly from prisoner to prisoner about Bane's murder, so no one came near them. Inmate after inmate, however, stared with repulsed fascination at Bane's mask from behind the safety of locked doors or the darkness of the corridors leading away from the stepwell. Fearful voices murmured in various languages.
"Where the hell are we going?" Barsad asked, but Bane said nothing, his senses alert in every direction, fingers twitching, breath coming in angry blasts through the mask.
Talia halted her march once they reached Doctor Assad's cell, their three forms blocking the weak light from the shaft. Assad sat at the rear of his cell, facing the door, the same cell where he had lived for the past forty years of his life. He did not stir, but his head was up, listening intently. Compared to other cells, his was spacious and boasted a larger bed and more furnishings. His medical practice in the pit had allowed him favored status among his jailers and thus more plentiful supplies of food and fuel, as well as a small library that Bane had pored over until each book was dog-eared and dirty. Now the shelves looked dusty, the volumes neglected. No doubt Assad's old morphine habit, begun after Melisande's death, had deprived him of a desire to read.
"So the masked man has returned," Assad spoke in Arabic, his deep voice hoarse and weaker than Bane remembered.
When Bane took a gentle but firm hold upon Talia's arm, she flashed a rebuking glance at him.
"We did not come here for this opium-eater," Bane growled low.
A quiet, cynical chuckle sounded from Assad. "Rest assured I have broken my old habit, Bane. I had no choice; there was a time several years back when no one in the prison could acquire my comforting friend. Since then I have gained the fortitude to deny myself."
"You would never have acquired the taste if you had not betrayed Melisande—"
Talia's hand upon Bane's chest stilled his bitter words.
"You aren't alone," Assad observed. "I can see two shadows beside you. Why have you come? Obviously not to liberate me."
Now Bane understood why the old man had not left his cell when they had first arrived, as he had when Bane had come with his grandfather—Assad's eyesight was failing him.
"My reasons aren't any of your business," Bane said.
"You are right, Doctor," Talia said quietly. "Bane did not come alone."
Bane gripped her shoulder, hissed, "No."
Talia ignored him, her fingers wrapping around the cell bars. "Melisande's child has returned with him."
Assad's back straightened, and he pushed aside the old blanket that cloaked him. Stiffly—as if he had been sitting a long time on the cold stone floor—he got to his feet. The faint glow from his brazier danced against his balding head and revealed sudden hope upon his dark face. Even his slightly clouded eyes seemed to brighten.
"Will you let me in?" Talia asked.
"No," Bane said. "We have already spent too much time here."
"I won't be long," she whispered. "I promise."
The rage Bane had experienced after learning of Assad's part in Melisande's death flared anew, as if only days separated him from that terrible moment. Forcibly he turned Talia toward him and said, "He is not coming with us."
Showing nothing but calm, Talia insisted, "I'm only going to talk with him."
"You have already talked too much. This is not what we agreed upon."
"There is no one near to hear. You and Barsad will keep them away if they come. I won't be long." Her eyes softened in the small space allowed by her shemagh. "Don't worry, Bane."
Assad had drifted close to the door but not within Bane's reach. With a tremulous smile, he asked, "How old are you now, child? I have lost track of time, and I can no longer see clearly."
"Can you let me in? We can talk more quietly then."
"Of course." Assad fumbled inside his tunic for his key.
Barsad stepped close to Talia, still facing outward, gun always at the ready. "You should listen to Bane. We shouldn't dick around here. We're making Yemi nervous."
Talia gave him a small, sly smile. "Are you sure it's Yemi who's nervous?"
"Yemi?" Assad echoed. "Surely you aren't talking about the Yemi who escaped with you?" His key rattled in the lock.
"The same," Barsad said, as if to keep Talia from talking any more than necessary.
The hinges of the door complained loudly as it opened. "But he is not with you," Assad said.
"No," Barsad replied. "He's in the shaft, guarding our lines."
"Enough," Bane growled, turning away from Talia to watch their flanks. "Five minutes. I will carry you out of that cell myself if you remain a second longer."
Talia slipped inside, and Assad closed the door. Though Bane did not want to hear their conversation, he would not move another foot away from Talia.
"Here," Assad said to her. "Sit on my bed."
"Sit beside me," she invited. "So we don't have to talk louder."
"How are you, child? Why did you come back here?"
"I just…it was something I needed to do."
"How is your father? Are you still with him?"
Bane growled deep in his throat, and Talia hesitated before answering, "My father died recently."
"Oh…I'm very sorry to hear that. But you are still with Bane."
"Yes."
"He protects you still."
"Yes."
"I am glad. I have worried about you over the years, both of you. I'm pleased that you still have one another."
"Me, too."
"And how is the world of light treating you otherwise?"
"I have been fortunate in many ways."
"And Bane?"
"Things have not been as easy for him, but he endures. He is a rock."
"Yes, he always has been."
"Here…I brought this for you."
Surprised, Bane glanced over his shoulder to see her placing a small leather pouch in Assad's hands.
"I can't take you away from here," she said, "but I can help you at least in this way. You must spend it wisely, though. I will trust your words that you are no longer an addict."
"I would not lie to you, sweet child." He smiled sadly. "Thank you." He secreted the pouch beneath the blankets on the bed. "But my jailers might wonder how I can suddenly afford luxuries. Since my eyes have begun to dim I can no longer practice medicine, and thus my value to them has diminished as has my compensation."
"You have no need to worry about your old jailers. They are no more. The prison has changed hands."
"Talia," Bane reproved.
"How do you know this?" Assad asked.
"Because the prison is now Bane's."
Though Bane was relieved she had not implicated herself, he still disapproved of her divulgence.
"I see," Assad murmured thoughtfully.
"I will make sure you are taken care of here."
"Surely my new jailer will object."
"He will, but he loves me and knows what I'm doing is only just. We differ on few things, but this is one of them. Perhaps one day I will change his mind, and you will be able to finish out your life in a better place."
"You have your mother's kind heart."
"No," Talia said ruefully. "I am very different from her in most ways because I grew up here. It has left its mark, even after all this time."
"It must have if you came back here today. It was a great risk, one I wager Bane did not willingly agree to."
"And that's why it's time we leave," Bane grumbled.
"He is right," Assad said. "Thank you for visiting me. I can't tell you how happy you've made this old blind fool. Just to hear your voice again and know you are well. Your mother would be proud of you." His voice broke slightly. "Your poor mother…"
"You shouldn't still mourn her. She has forgiven you, I'm sure. She would not want you to suffer still. I don't."
Tears shimmered in the corners of his eyes, and his hand reached to touch her face through her shemagh. Bane shifted his weight slightly to watch closer, fingers twitching against the rifle. Talia sat patiently as Assad's fingers explored her features, his clouded gaze seeking.
"I can tell you have your mother's beauty as well."
"Thank you," Talia whispered, her voice growing thin.
Assad sat back, sighed with a contented smile. "But you must go now, child. You must listen to Bane. This is no place for you. You must never come back."
"I have promised him that I won't."
"Very good."
Talia faltered, held his hands in hers for a long moment, a wistful smile trembling on her lips, then she got to her feet. Assad stood as well, holding out his key to her as a sign of complete trust. Slowly she took it from him, whispered, "Good-bye, old friend," and embraced him.
Assad held her close, his eyes pressed shut, then he forced himself to step back. "Go, child. And bless you for coming to me. It means more to me than any sum you could give me."
She nodded, lips tight together. "I'm sorry."
"There is no need to apologize. You least of all. I understand." He smiled, whispered, "Good-bye."
She let herself out of the cell, locking the door behind her and handing the key back through the bars to Assad's waiting palm. Then she hastily wiped her eyes with her shemagh and led the way back to Yemi.
The climb up the shaft was smooth and quick. Bane never looked back. Instead he kept his attention on Talia above him, his mind and body relaxing with each meter she ascended, taking her forever away from the pit. This feeling of relief overrode his displeasure over her disobedience and stubbornness moments ago. Secretly he smiled at her determination to speak with Assad. Of course she had not told him of her plans ahead of time; she was too wise for that. Though her compassion for the doctor did not offend him—in fact it gave him hope that her father's death had not completely hardened her—he could not understand her compulsion to treat the man with such deference. But, he reminded himself, she had been only five years old when her mother had died, so her viewpoint of Assad would be much different than his before the man's opium addiction. She had often lamented how Assad would never have been in her mother's cell that day if she had not pretended to have a stomach ache just to get attention. Bane, however, would allow her to accept none of the blame for Melisande's death.
When they climbed out of the shaft and back into the blazing desert heat, Barsad dusted himself off and said, "Well, I'm glad I saw it with my own eyes, but—fuck—I don't ever want to see it again. Like living in your own coffin."
Bane removed his equipment, standing beside Talia who seemed lost in thought, a slight furrow to her brow. Once she had removed her harness, she stepped back to the opening of the shaft. Impulsively Bane took hold of her elbow. She glanced up at him, as if realizing his presence for the first time, then she leaned over to look far down the shaft a final time.
"This is where he will die," she said. "Just like your grandfather."
Bane frowned. "Who, habibati? Assad?"
"No." Talia straightened and turned to him, her gaze bone-chillingly cold. One eyebrow twitched with malice as she said, "Bruce Wayne."
