"There is nothing more insidious than one who turns his back on the law!" the man shouted. "For the law was given to us by God! There is no harm in naming them: those among you who defy the law. We are nothing without our faith. Without its rules and its direction; to defy it, is to defy the one who leads us! Such behavior can not be allowed!"
The man had stopped speaking, and so Altaïr rose from the bench and began discreetly tailing the man; this one clearly being either a firm believer in Majd Addin's tyrannical ways, or merely paid off by the man. And either way, one more than likely to have knowledge that could be put to proper use.
As he caught his first glimpse of the man, moving through the crowds, Altaïr took note of the travel-stained, faded tan robe that he wore. Around his waist was a black sash, and atop his head a wine-red hat of a type Altaïr had seen before, though he did not recall just what such a thing was called. Directing his attention away from such idle musings, Altaïr continued on his way though the crowds.
Ever closer to the man who would give him the information he sought, reluctant though he might have been.
Once he had passed beyond the watching eyes of Jerusalem's citizens for a moment, Altaïr fell upon the man with his accustomed ferocity. A hireling the man might easily have been, since he did not fight with the strength or lack of regard for himself that characterized a zealot. The more they struggled, Altaïr himself striving far harder than this man whose name he did not know, he came to the conclusion that his first thought about the man was indeed right. The man fought too much like a hireling to be anything else.
"Enough!" the man gasped. "I still breathe, so you must desire more than just my life. What is it?"
"You know Majd Addin well?" he demanded.
"Better than most," the man said, not sounding as though he was boasting, but not as though he was confessing, either.
All the more indication that this man was a hireling, truly.
"He seems a bit too righteous," he said. "Is the law really so important to him?"
"What do you think?"
He narrowed his eyes, not entirely pleased with the man's temerity. "I think he hides something, and I think you'll tell me what it is," he said, focusing the annoyance he felt into a sharp blade to further prod the man before him.
"It's a veil, all of it," the hireling said, his almost laughable resistance folding swiftly in the face of Altaïr's annoyance. "Men like me? We are meant to scare them. Fill the people with fear. The ones he kills: not criminals, but… dangerous, all the same."
"Dangerous to who?" Altaïr demanded, in spite of the fact that he was beginning to suspect the fact that he knew the answer to that question without troubling himself to ask.
"His plans; their plans," the hireling said, his fear clearly beginning to get the better of him at last. "Yes! He speaks of others! Those he works with; works for, perhaps. I am uncertain. They need the city, though: controlling it is important to them."
"Why?"
"You'll have to ask him yourself," the hireling said, clearly beginning to think that there was a way for him to survive this confrontation. "Attend one of his executions," the hireling said to him. "It's when he's most talkative; addressing the crowd, hands covered in blood."
"Then we are done," he said, driving his Hidden Blade into the hireling's neck at last.
Leaving the man behind as he fell to the ground, Altaïr swiftly moved away from the scene. Scaling a nearby wall to bring himself further away as swiftly as possible, Altaïr crossed as many rooftops as he could manage without being spotted by one of the archers that seemed to be far more prevalent in Jerusalem now than the last time that he had found himself in the city. It was quite possible that Majd Addin had ordered them posted when he had assumed power within the city.
Yet another reason to deal with him, if such were indeed the case.
Returning to the ground so that he would be better able to find the people that he sought within the city, Altaïr blended carefully back into the crowds so that he would be able to more easily make his way through the city, unnoticed and seldom seen. As he turned his attention back to the hunt for his new targets, Altaïr took care to match his pace to the ebb and flow of the crowds. He would not like to be spotted simply because of his inattention to a simple detail such as that.
Turning his gaze to the right, Altaïr raised his eyebrows slightly as he caught sight of an Informant standing at ease within a courtyard. Mildly interested in what the man would say to him, he hoped that the tasks that the other asked of him would not be too onerous.
"You again, grand Master," the young man said; Altaïr was unsure if the young one was simply one of those overawed by his presence or simply confused as to his true rank, and so he offered no correction. "Safety and peace; I am so glad to see you. In these troubled times they asked me to prove myself, but I feel so inadequate when I compare myself to you." Altaïr held himself aloof from the young man; knowing how unlikely it was that they would ever truly meet again, and so not wishing to cast a pall over his aspirations. "I must kill two of Majd Addin's men without a fight. Could you show me the way?" it was a difficult thing, reading the emotions on a face so well-shrouded as that of an Informant, and yet the young man's eyes gave his hesitation away; perhaps it was for the best that Altaïr showed him how he might perform future duties that might be asked of him. "I will be forever grateful; and share a very interesting story with you."
Nodding his acquiescence to the young man who had asked for his help in this endeavor, Altaïr received the locations where both men could be found, and then turned his attention to tracking them. Such was not an entirely difficult thing, with the skill that he had often wondered if others among the Brotherhood possessed. It was not a thing he talked about, however; not an easy thing to bring up in conversation at all, the fact that he could see things that others might not.
Such musings were merely idle curiosities, however, and so Altaïr set them aside while he dealt with the men who had caused this Informant such consternation.
Returning over the rooftops to the young man who had sought his aid, Altaïr found that his wide-eyed look of welcome rather reminded him of Alnesr's when his former Apprentice had been young.
"You are the best the clan has ever seen." Altaïr took only a moment to consider such praise, before putting it aside as the words of a young man who had likely ventured no further than the city he had been stationed in. "Here is my story, Master: I was cleaning the temple steps; I overheard two scholars praising how easy it was for them to pass the soldiers guarding the entrance of the execution plaza." He'd have not thought that such would be the case; Majd Addin must have truly felt more secure in his power than any of the others that he had been given cause to put to the sword. "If you time your entry properly, they could provide a choice distraction for the guards. But, I am sure that with your wisdom, you knew that already."
Nodding slightly to himself in thought, not particularly caring how the informant would take such a gesture, Altaïr left the courtyard and made his way back out into the city at large. He possessed a great deal more information now than he had when he started, and for a moment he wondered if Malik would be satisfied with such progress as he had made. He honestly doubted it; not just for the hurt that he had caused to the Dai, but for the thought that he had not sought out all possible leads in all possible places.
With that thought in mind, Altaïr turned his attention back to what else he might be able to find out about the circumstances surrounding Majd Addin, and hence how he could improve his chances of killing the man when the time to do so properly came.
Hearing the sound of far off conversation, Altaïr turned his attention that way. Seating himself at a bench within range of the two men conversing – a man in white robes, sash, and turban, his face covered by a cloth of the same color; and a man in pale green who seemed to be dressed just the same – and turned his ears in that direction while taking care to appear that he was merely resting after a long walk.
"I am sorry!" the man in white said to the man in pale green, his tone indeed one of deep sorrow. "They came for him without warning."
"My son?! They have my son?" thinking on how he himself would have felt if it had been Alnesr in such a situation, Altaïr lowered his eyes slight; truly, this only served to firm his resolve. Majd Addin would die, and the sooner the better. "What is to be done with him?!"
"We did everything we could," the man in white said, wringing his hands.
"What is to be done with him?!" the other man demanded, shaking the first with the strength that desperation could lend a man.
"He is to be executed; today."
"No," the man in pale-green – the father bereft of his son – growled at last. "I won't allow it."
"What, what can we do?" the first man asked; clearly, a victim of the terror that Majd Addin had been spreading. "Majd Addin will hear no appeals! He says that there can be no barter with God's will!"
"This is not God's will!" In that, Altaïr mused, they two were in complete agreement. "But madness! I'll go to him myself! Where is he?!"
Before the grieving father could have done something foolish, though Altaïr held no enmity for such a desire considering what he had lost, the man in white took hold of his right shoulder and pulled him back. "He will attend the execution; perform it, even. He enjoys the act; truly evil man."
"We have no time to lose, then," the bereft, grieving father said; Altaïr was almost pleased that the man's voice did not shake when he spoke. "Let's go!"
Taking a moment to compose himself, knowing that he could not offer aid in any but the most indirect of ways to the man who had lost so much, Altaïr moved back into the crowd and lost himself within it once more. He had a great deal of time to think about what else he might need – what other information there might be left to collect – before he returned to the Bureau to collect the Master's marker and finish this mission at last.
On his way back through the poor district, Altaïr found his attention once more drawn to the discreet, robed form of an Informant standing just out of sight of the glances of the crowds, behind a section of wall that jutted out just enough to cover him.
"Still need my help?" the man said. "I'm not sure I can be of any help; I have not been in town for awhile. Well, not since Majd Addin put a bounty on my head! Three of his men are after me! Perhaps your blade could help," the man – not sounding as young as the previous Informant he'd crossed paths with, but not sounding very much older all the same – said, sounding rather like he hoped it would. "Get rid of them, and I'll search my memory for something worth your while."
Nodding as the Informant bowed slightly to him, Altaïr turned and left the small almost alcove-like place where the two of them had met.
There was one more man due to fall to his knives than had been the case the last time he had been asked to perform such actions as were wanted of him here and now, but Altaïr had thought that such would indeed be the case when he had glimpsed the stance of this Informant out of all the others. This man indeed had had the mien of one being hunted.
Returning to the rooftops, stalking from above as had proved so useful to him in the past, Altaïr focused in that way that he did to bring his awareness of people's inner-natures forward. The men he sought were colored brightly gold in that other-vision; haloed in red to further let him know that they were enemies. Striking each one of them down with the throwing-knives that he had often taken the time and care to liberate from the thieves who would have otherwise used them for ends meant to benefit only themselves, Altaïr allowed himself a slight smile, before he made his way back to the Informant so that he would be able to speak to the young man once more.
Making his way back into the small, sheltered alcove-like place that the young man had hidden himself within to avoid the notice of those who would have sought the bounty on his head, Altaïr carefully checked to see that he was not being observed by anyone who might have taken something of an interest in what he was doing, and then made his way back down the ladder that he had climbed to gain the rooftops in the first place. It was a good feeling, to know that he could move unseen both within and above the crowds.
"Now I'm starting to understand why they call you the one," the Informant said, his enthusiasm showing even though most of his face was covered. "What could I tell you that would be of any help?" the young man seemed to be musing on his next words, as opposed to lacking confidence as the other Informant that he had encountered, so Altaïr merely watched without expectations. "Oh, yes: Majd Addin enjoys lecturing his prisoners before executing them. While doing so, he turns his back on the crowd. I'm sure it is the perfect moment to strike! Does that help? Now, I must go hide for a while."
Nodding, more to himself than to the Informant who had already begun to make his way out of the small, alcove-like place where the two of them had been speaking with one another, Altaïr made his own way out once the Informant had left in another dissection. He did not wish to give anyone who might have been watching the impression that he and the Informant could be connected to one another.
He would not compromise the Brotherhood once again; not ever again.
Deciding that, even if Malik did not believe that he possessed the requisite information to justify the giving over of the marker Altaïr would need to properly perform the assassination he had awaiting him, he could ill-afford any more delays if he were to help those that the mad Templar aimed to execute, he turned his path back toward the Bureau once more. He would not allow Malik's disparagement to drive him to delays that would only place the lives of those Majd Addin's madness had condemned in further danger.
Making his way back over the rooftops, pausing only to deal with the archers and particularly troublesome guards that he encountered on his way, Altaïr made his way determinedly back to the Bureau where Malik waited for him. He would present his case to the Dai, and he would convince the man to allow him the marker he needed. He could not allow Majd Addin's madness to condemn any more of Jerusalem's innocents.
Coming within sight of the Bureau once more, Altaïr sighed softly in mingled relief and anticipation. Climbing back down into the secondary room of the Bureau, Altaïr steeled himself for what he might be forced to do. Whether it was to grovel and beg for a favor that the Dai might not be willing to grant him otherwise, or else to promise some form of penance to the man that he had wronged. Altaïr would do it; not only for the innocents that he would be unable to protect otherwise, but for the fact that he had wronged Malik, and he did owe the man.
As he came into the room where Malik was working, behind the counter that Altaïr's own actions had left him to, Altaïr nodded to the Dai and made his way over.
"You have more news, Novice?"
"I do," he said simply; Malik seemed almost surprised by his tone.
"Speak of it, then; let us see what you have learned."
For a moment, Altaïr was almost bemused by how the Dai's manner of speech reflected the Master's own. "Majd Addin is to hold a public execution not far from here. It's certain to be well-guarded, but given the information I have managed to collect, I feel it is not beyond my skill."
"You would feel that," Malik said, sounding as fully unimpressed as he looked.
Altaïr bit the tip of his tongue, briefly reminding himself of all the troubles that his own arrogance had brought upon the Brotherhood before. "Will you give me the marker?"
"There is something else you need know beforehand," Malik said, sounding both pleased and slightly annoyed. "One of those meant to be executed is a Brother; one of us. Al Mualim wishes for him to be saved. Do not worry about the rescue: my men will take care of that. But you must ensure that Majd Addin does not take his life."
After Malik had finished speaking those words, the Dai retrieved the Master's marker and Altaïr took it. Nodding one last time, with respect to the man that his foolishness had harmed most of all, Altaïr turned and left the Bureau's front room. Making his way into the room that he had entered from once again, Altaïr allowed himself only a small meal and a short rest before he scaled the wall and made his way back up to Jerusalem's rooftops once more.
He did not have the luxury of time in this instance, so Altaïr did not allow himself to linger in any one place for longer than he had to. Dodging the sightlines of guards, and pausing only to deal with those archers who he could not avoid without deviating too far from the most efficient path, Altaïr made swift progress through Jerusalem, on his way to the execution grounds that had been indicated by the men whose conversations he had overheard and whose communications he had intercepted.
The western edge of Solomon's Temple, near the Wailing Wall, was awash with people; shifting and muttering, most of them clearly constrained from acting by the fear of what reprisals Addin would contrive to bring down on their heads in the face of such open defiance. But, that was well enough for his purposes; Altaïr himself had often been the hidden blade of the people, striking down those who had thought themselves protected by the coin they extorted, or the fear they spread.
He was more than willing to become so again, after all that he had heard of Majd Addin and his atrocities.
Making his way into the crowd that had gathered, whether willing or unwilling, to witness the mockery of justice that Majd Addin would parade before them, Altaïr steadied himself and watched; his time to act would come soon enough.
"People of Jerusalem, hear me well!" Addin called out, his voice silencing the remaining mutters of the crowd who had not heeded his call for such when he had first made it, likely riled by the delivery of the prisoners – tied to stakes, and most of them beaten – before them. "I stand here today to deliver a warning: there are malcontents among you; they sow the seeds of discontent, hoping to lead you astray." Over the crowd's murmurs, Addin continued. "Tell me, is this what you desire? To be mired in deceit and sin? To live your lives in fear?"
Altaïr would have scoffed at that, were he not surrounded by Addin's Saracen guards and those who he had cowed into his service. He was a fine one to speak of people in fear. His gaze, however, was fixed on the Assassin that had been captured by Addin's men: the man was younger than him, but seemed to be older than Alnesr. He did not know if this man was unskilled in combat, or had simply been unlucky.
He was not likely to find out, for that matter; so Altaïr focused his attention on Addin, awaiting the moment when he would be able to strike.
