A/N: Hihi! So, finally got another chapter to you. There's not a lotlot happening as far as action, there's a good bit of dialogue, but it's setting the stage for events down the road and trust me, you will enjoy them ;)
Shoutouts to: 1Corinthians 1313 and Alexe-audron! Thanks so much for taking the time to review!
1Corinthians 1313, Samuel gets better, don't worry.
Alexe-audron, I'm so glad you found my fic and I'm ecstatic that you're enjoying it! Hope it continues to satisfy!
Enjoy!
Akilah strode into the kitchen and began lighting the candles and torches, filling the room with a warm glow that drove the blackness of night back through the windows. The sun had yet to rise but her girls would arrive soon, so she began setting out the necessary items for breakfast.
She paused, looking around the kitchen with sharp eyes. Something wasn't right. She stared hard at each corner of the room, looking for anything amiss and finding nothing. She scowled, not placated in the least, and heaved a frustrated sigh.
What was that smell?
She marched to her spice jars and the smell grew stronger. She snatched the lids off and her eyes narrowed in satisfaction at the sight of the peculiar combination of grooves and mounds that resulted from fingers pinching up the spices.
No one in Masyaf would dare come into her kitchen uninvited and no one would ever be bold enough to help themselves to her spices.
"Hmph," she said, closing the jars. "I do believe I know who it responsible for this."
Samuel awoke to the sun shining across his closed eyes and he blinked painfully in the light. The sunrise was a beautiful combination of fiery oranges and reds but the only thing he could focus on was the pain flaring from his stiff body. He shuddered from the chill that suddenly clenched his insides. He slid off the bed and reached out shakily for his cloak, wrapping it around his shoulders.
The door opened and an Assassin entered the room. The man was shorter than Caleb but no less intimidating. In fact, Samuel could feel the glower the man fixed him with and had to force himself not to take a half-step back.
"Come with me," he said gruffly and led the way from the room.
Samuel followed, clutching his side and clenching his teeth to keep them from chattering. The Assassin took him through the fortress and to another simple, wooden door. He knocked twice and entered the room. Samuel recognized the physician and he sighed in relief.
"Do you require my assistance?" the Assassin asked blandly.
"No," the physician answered promptly, dismissing him. "Come here, boy, let me have a better look at you."
Samuel limped over to him and stripped off his shirt. The older man's eyes narrowed in displeasure at the wounds covering his torso. Many of them were inflamed and leaking corruption. However, he could also see that they had been tended well and the conditions had only developed over the course of a few days. He removed the bandages and examined Samuel's ribs.
"Who set these?" he asked.
"Saadiq and Waseem," Samuel replied with a wince.
"Hm, they will heal well enough," the physician said gruffly. "Sit," he ordered.
He then set to cleaning the other wounds. Samuel grit his teeth and clenched his eyes shut, fighting to hold still and the physician's brows rose in mild approval. When he'd finished, sweat was dripping down Samuel's face and the boy inhaled a deep shuddering breath, sagging in the chair. The physician wrapped a fresh bandage around him.
"Come and see me this evening," he instructed. "Those burns need to breathe, so that bandage will have to come off for a while." He looked at Samuel's eyes, noting the slight glassiness of his gaze. "How do you feel?"
"A little cold," Samuel answered and a shiver punctuated the statement.
"Hm, you still have a slight fever. Hopefully, we can prevent it from becoming severe," the physician said. "Ibrahim!"
The door opened and the Assassin stepped inside.
"Take him to Malik."
Ibrahim nodded and jerked his head toward the hall. Samuel followed in silence, feeling the hostility radiating off the man.
Is he one of the ones Caleb was talking about when he told me not to leave my room alone?
Malik was in the library and he looked up expectantly when they entered. Then, his expression fell in mild disappointment.
"I thought you might have been Aliyah," he remarked to Ibrahim.
He had barely finished speaking when she entered the room with food, her mouth pursed as she fought a smile.
"What is so funny?" Malik asked.
"Akilah found out that Caleb was in her kitchen," she said.
"Who is Akilah?" Samuel asked.
The two men exchanged a look that he couldn't decipher.
"She is the woman in charge of the kitchen," Aliyah replied.
During all of his years as an Assassin, Caleb had faced the wrath of his Brothers, teachers, marauders, soldiers, civilians and Templars. None of them had made his pulse quicken with anxiety the way the infuriated woman that stood before him did.
"You creep into my kitchen in the middle of the night like a rat," she said, her voice low with anger. "You have not been in Masyaf for some time, Caleb, so I am willing to suspect that another tempted you into this foolishness."
Caleb swallowed nervously, eyeing the heavy spoon in her hand and the various knives on the table. "No," he said. "No one. But!" he raised his voice as she brought the spoon forward. "If I may have a chance to explain myself?"
Her eyes narrowed to slits. "You had better speak quickly, boy. My girls have locked those doors and if I dislike what I hear, you won't sit a horse for a week."
Caleb had talked his way out of certain death more than once, but this was not time to be overconfident.
"Altair sent a boy to us from Acre," he began. "When he arrived, he was wounded and sick. My time away from Masyaf has not dulled my memory, Akilah, but you do so much already that I did not wish to disturb what little rest you were getting for something as trivial as a bowl of soup."
She cocked her head warningly, hearing the honey dripping from his lips as he talked.
"I assure you," he continued, "you will find nothing amiss and—" he said emphatically when she began to interrupt him, "—because I would never take something without providing proper compensation, I went to the market this morning." He held out four small bags and the scent of the spices wafted up from them.
Akilah accepted the bags with a suspicious cock of an eyebrow and examined the contents carefully. Then, she handed them to one of the woman.
"You had best be careful with that honeyed mouth, Caleb," she warned. "One day, it may not save you. Unlock the door, Tikvah, so he can leave."
He inclined his head deeply in gratitude and left the kitchen. When he heard the door close behind him, he let out the breath he'd been holding and flexed his clammy hands.
"What makes a servant betray his lord?" Malik asked, fixing Samuel with a cool look.
Samuel shifted nervously. "My family followed Pierre Delacroix to the Holy Land," he began. "My father is a merchant, he has several ships at his disposal that he gave to Pierre. When Pierre insisted my father accompany him…how could he refuse?"
Malik nodded his understanding but his brows were still knit in a frown.
"My family has always been loyal," Samuel went on. "We've served for generations and we've only known the benevolence of the Delacroix family. Their laws were strict and the punishments unforgiving, but aside from that, they cared for their people. When we arrived, my father reestablished his business as though he'd planned to all along and I became Pierre's squire."
"Thereby elevating your family's status even further," Malik remarked.
Samuel nodded but his eyes were pleading. "It was an honor for me…or so I thought." He rubbed the back his neck and sighed. "I was cleaning his armor one afternoon and I finished early. When I returned it to his chambers, I saw a half-finished letter on his desk. I never intended to intrude in his business but I recognized some of the words. He would write in code, you see? And I had learned some of it, enough to see that he planned to kill off my family and put another person in charge of my father's business."
"And who was this?" Malik asked.
"Maria Thorpe," Samuel answered. "Generations of loyalty meant nothing. What was I supposed to do? My father would have never believed me and if I had confronted Pierre, I would have been executed on the spot. Was I supposed to stand by, idle and mute, while his men—those animals—butchered my father and younger brother? While they brutalized my mother?"
Malik tilted his head back, studying the former squire. The boy's eyes, while glassy with his fever, were also sharp with fear and desperation as he recalled those moments.
"I could not see an alternative course of action," Samuel finished softly. "I am not proud of what I did. The only thing worse than a servant turning on his master is a son turning on his father. But if I had the choice to make again, I would."
Malik nodded slowly. "What skills do you have?"
Samuel looked at him in surprise. "Um…I speak English, French and Arabic. I can read and write in all three languages and I can read Templar code. Well, unless they've changed it."
"If they have, could you relearn it?" Malik asked.
"Yes," Samuel answered confidently.
"You may be of use after all," Malik remarked. He strode around the desk and produced a small stack of papers. "You can start translating these."
He watched Samuel carefully and was surprised to see the boy's eyes spark with excitement. Samuel stepped to the desk and pulled the papers closer to him, inspecting them with a thoughtful frown. He pulled one out of the stack and started reading it.
Malik snatched it from his hand like a bird of prey capturing a mouse and Samuel gave him a startled, wide-eyed look. "You can start after breakfast. Ibrahim will escort you," he nodded at the Assassin.
Ibrahim stepped forward with a respectful nod but Samuel could still see the dislike in his eyes.
"How long will this be necessary?" Samuel asked.
"Until I am certain you are in no danger from the other Assassins," Malik replied.
Samuel nodded and followed Ibrahim out of the library.
Malik sighed tiredly and caught Aliyah's amused glance. "What?"
She smiled. "You like him."
He cocked an eyebrow. "I don't know what you're talking about."
She laughed lightly. "You saw his face when you showed him those papers. He's a scholar at heart, like you."
"You think me a scholar?" he asked with a laugh.
"I do," she answered and stepped closer to him. "I am pleased to have married such a learned man."
He couldn't help the smile that tugged on his mouth as he looked down into her shining eyes. "I would not count myself so well-read," he said, dropping his voice. "I only know one book by heart."
"Oh?" she queried.
"It is my favorite, you see?" he went on. "I read it every day, from the moment I awaken until I fall asleep," he took her hand, "and I never tire of it."
She pressed his hand between hers, cherishing his tender tone. "Never?"
He shook his head. "Never."
"Why did you assign Ibrahim to guard him instead of me?" she asked curiously.
"Ibrahim's temper burns a little hotter than yours," he replied. "The others will be less likely to test him."
"You truly believe Samuel is in danger here," she stated in surprise.
"I do," he answered. "I'll leave him with Ibrahim and keep him working in the library until the others become accustomed to his presence. Where is Caleb?"
"I don't know," she answered and at the sound of boots, they both looked toward the door.
Caleb strode into the library and huffed a sigh. "Remind me, in the future, that venturing into the kitchen is exceptionally dangerous."
"Very well," Malik grinned knowingly, then he became serious. "I have work for you."
"Ah, I was wondering when you'd tire of me," Caleb commented.
"I need you to stay in Masyaf a little longer," Malik informed him and Caleb's eyes widened in surprise. "You speak these languages perfectly," Malik continued, gesturing to the stack of letters on the desk, "I need to know if Samuel plans to deceive us."
Caleb nodded slowly. "You want me to monitor his translations."
"Quietly," Malik emphasized.
Caleb smiled. "Malik, I know no other way to be."