NOTE: I know Sena isn't an Arabic name. It's Japanese. My character Sena (who might reappear in a small role in a future chapter) is my little way of paying homage to Sena Kobayakawa from the Eyeshield 21 manga.

Oh, and Sena tells several stories over the course of the chapter, and the best way to read them is in an over-dramatic fashion, in the style of Grimm's Fairytales. Totally overblown, you know? Sena's a drama king with a taste for attention, so best keep that in mind when you get to his monologue…

The Beginning Of Silence

Chapter 13

Malik and Altaïr sat crouched behind a cart of hay, trying their best to look inconspicuous. Twenty yards in front of them, the mouth of an alleyway yawned like the jaws of a shadowy black beast.

"You saw him go in there?" Altaïr asked, barely moving his lips. Again, his body spoke louder than his words. His eyes were fixed on the alley, but were filled with skepticism.

Malik looked up at the sky and muttered back: "Yes. He was not being followed. I made sure of it." A nod of his head and a reassuring glance down the lane in front of the alleyway accompanied the words.

The two boys had, after setting off from the fortress, split up and circled the village, keeping a lookout for the Instructors entrusted with the task scrolls. They had agreed to meet at an appointed place at a certain time, but Malik never showed up. So, Altaïr retraced Malik's steps and found him watching the mouth of an alleyway, which he claimed to have seen a frazzled-looking instructor duck into.

"When I first spotted him," Malik said, "he was being tailed by at least four other students, who were less than subtle about in their attempts to take the scroll. I managed to stay out of sight (which was easier than I anticipated; he was distracted by the others), and when he at last tried to flee his pursuers I followed him here." He smiled slightly. "The Instructors are stressed, it seems."

Altaïr nodded in agreement. During his rounds, he had seen more than one Instructor being rather obviously followed by Apprentices, and on one occasion he had witnessed three children practically mobbing their superior in an attempt to gain possession of a scroll.

"So, Altaïr," Malik asked, "what is the plan?"

Altaïr glanced skyward. "It will do us no go to charge into the alley for the scroll," he said, "for there is only one entrance, and he will see us long before we come close to him. If we were to try to overpower him with force… well, that would be foolhardy. He's twice our size, and trained. Would it were one of our peers, fighting would be our best option, but…" He smirked. "Our best option—not to mention out only one—is to wait for him to leave his hiding place, and act from there. He won't be expected a strike as soon as he leaves, but we'll be ready for him."

"A solid enough plan, for now," Malik said once Altaïr had finished. "He does not know I tailed him, so he will not ready himself properly when he at last leaves."

"Surprise is our ally, here," Altair agreed. "Best put it to good use." He dropped to the ground and leaned lightly against the wall behind the hay cart. He could see the alley, and the road that ran in front of it, but it would be hard for passerby to see Altaïr. As an added bonus, the lane was a fairly quiet one, populated only by women and the working class. No other Apprentices were in sight. "Now, we wait. There is nothing else we can do."

Malik dropped to the ground, too, and opened his mouth to speak. He stopped, however, his attention focused on something in the road.

Altaïr looked, too, and saw one of their fellow Apprentices scuttling down the nearly-deserted lane. His round, pretty face (he had long eyelashes and wide eyes like a girl's) was covered by a mask of determination that barely concealed a more hectic look.

"Is that Sena?" Malik asked. Sena was one of the scrawniest boys in both Altaïr and Malik's age group, though he was likely the quickest on his feet. He had been picked on since he was a small child, and was an uncommonly fast runner, a skill likely honed over years of running from bullies.

"I think so," Altaïr said quietly. His eyes widened. "Has he got a--?"

Malik rose to his feet quietly. "Hold on," he said, crouching low in the dust. He picked up a stone off the ground, took careful aim, and lobbed it onto the street.

Its aim was true; it landed right in front of Sena. Sena ground to a halt, looked once at the rock, then once over at the hay cart. His eyes narrowed in confusion.

Malik stuck a hand out over the hay and wiggled his fingers. Sena gasped, looked around warily, and stalked over. His posture indicated that he was ready to bolt at any moment. He rounded the corner of the cart with the wariness of an abused cat, then relaxed when he saw Malik and Altaïr. They had never picked on him. "Hello," he said, voice still a touch nervous.

"How have you fared, Sena?" Malik asked. His voice was all pleasantness and smooth edges.

Sena stared at him a moment, biting on his lower lip. "Oh, well enough." He kicked idly at the ground. "And you?"

Malik waved a hand, intentionally vague. "Oh, fine," he said. His voice dropped a little. "But, really, how have you been? You look happier than you have been in ages. What's happened?"

Altaïr studied the smaller boy, and remained seated. "What have you got down your shirt?"

Sena gasped aloud and placed his hand over the bulge on his left hip. "I-I know not what you mean," he stammered, still clutching what was undoubtedly a scroll.

Altaïr's eyes narrowed, and Malik chuckled: "Your grasping hand betrays you."

Sena's cheeks colored and let go of his prize. It made an obvious rounded bump on his side, like a roll of fat without a partner on the other side of its host's body. "Alright; you caught me. I have a scroll."

"How'd you get it?" was Malik's eager reaction. "Tell us!"

Sena stayed silent, and licked his lips nervously. "You mean you're…"

"Hm?"

"You mean you're not going to take the scroll from me?"

Malik and Altaïr shot each other surprised glances. "Of course not!" exclaimed Malik. "You earned it! We would only ask you for guidance as to how to obtain one for ourselves."

Sena smiled nervously; Malik's words rang true, and the small boy was reassured. "Oh. Well, then." His bright eyes grew mischievous as his trepidation faded and he crouched in the dust with Malik and Altaïr. "You'll never believe my luck," he said. "I walked to the Gates as soon as I left the fortress, and—long story short—heard a man shouting and limbs scuffling mere meters away. It sounded like a fight, and I was curious. I looked, of course, and when I peaked around the corner of a building at the ones making the noises, I found an Instructor and three Apprentices in a brawl." He grinned. "It was Bashan and his lackeys. They thought the could beat a teacher into giving up a scroll—and let me say now that they were being trounced." Bashan, Hashat, and Madar were Sena's worst bullies. "Ah, it was grand to see."

"Go on," Altaïr urged, impatient. "What happened next?"

"Well," Sena said, smiling, "I watched—with all the glee in me, you understand—as the mighty Instructor made their hides bleed. Bashan was the closest of the three to get to the scroll; he'd touched the bag it was in as it hung off the Instructor's belt, and jostled it so I could see the shape of the scroll quite clearly through the thin leather. I hate to admit it, but it was Bashan's actions that made it so easy for me to take the scroll from our Brother. Funny, fate's workings. Sometimes it is as if God grants us favors in the most unsuspected—"

Altaïr realized that Sena was milking the story for all it was worth, stalling as best he could to keep both Malik and Altaïr interested. He never did get attention (unless it was from bullies) and must have been reveling in Altaïr and Malik's.

"Sena," Altaïr said patiently, being as gentle as he could, "please tell us what happened."

Sena blushed again. "Oh, all right," he grumbled. "The Instructor left Bashan and the others writhing in the dust. I followed him. He was limping slightly, as the wily Hashat had kicked him smartly in the shin (an underhanded blow, if I may say so myself), and moved slowly. So, summoning all my courage, I made a dash at him. Remember: I could see the scroll quite clearly. Using every ounce of speed I possessed, I ran past him, plunged my hand into the satchel at his side, and ripped the scroll free." Sena smiled wryly. "I never broke stride, and ran as if the devil himself were chasing me."

Malik let out a low whistle. "You never broke… did the Instructor pursue you?"

Sena grew thoughtful. "That is the strange part," he said. "I looked back when I heard no running footsteps, and he was just… standing there." His eyes glazed over as Sena looked into past. "And what's even more strange—he was smiling! He looked triumphantly at me, and nodded in my direction, as if proud I'd bested him." Sena's eyes returned to the present. "I've been keeping to back alleys and little-used roads since gaining my scroll, and from the shadows I have seen many strange things. Every time an apprentice takes a scroll from an Instructor, the Instructor does not try to take it back. It is as if they think: 'they bested us once, and that is enough to prove their worth.' I think that once you've taken the scroll into your hands, the Instructors just let you have it." He smiled, looking relieved. "Imagine if their orders were to gain back the scrolls from as many students as they could? I would be relieved of my prize in an instant, I'll bet!"

Something in Sena's words sparked Altaïr's imagination; the wheels and cogs of his meticulous, calculating mind began to rumble into life, then grind with sudden ferocity. "I… have an idea…" he said slowly.

"Hm?" Malik grunted. Sena just looked confused.

Eager to express his thoughts, Altaïr began to speak rapidly. "What if we were to—"

He outlined a new plan to Malik, and Sena listened on. When Altaïr concluded his speech, his fiends sat quiet for a moment then burst into twin smiles.

"Perfect!" Malik said.

Sena was more awed than excited. "I knew you were good," he said, "but not this good."

Altaïr placed a hand on Sena's shoulder. "It all depends on you, though," he said. "Do you think you can do it?"

Malik, more thoughtful than Altaïr by nature, added: "You do not have to help us if you do not wish to."

Sena hesitated. "All I'll have to do is go in there and ask him that question? And tell him the message?"

Altaïr nodded.

Sena swallowed. "I can manage, I think."

Malik smiled. "From the way you told your story earlier, I can see you have a way with words. You should have little trouble with this."

Sena blushed at the praise. "Thank you," he mumbled.

"No," Altaïr said. "Thank you."

"When do you want me to do it?" Sena asked. It was clear his mind was made up; his voice did not waver in the slightest.

Malik glanced at the sky. They had spent less than a half hour behind the cart, but time was still of utmost importance. "Soon, I should think."

Sena stood. "Then I'll go now," he said, and tugged his scroll out from beneath the hem of his tunic.

"You remember your job?" Altaïr asked.

Sena smiled. "I do. And I promise I will do the two of you proud." He hesitated. "Malik… you praised me a minute ago. Thank you."

Malik blinked. "You deserved it; I delivered. No thanks are required."

Sena turned to Altaïr. "Altaïr… you have been kind to me too, in your own way. You could have bullied me, strong as you are, but never have. You could have taken the scroll, but did not, and instead you asked me for advice." Sena snorted. "Me—the weakest Apprentice." His eyes softened. "Your humbleness, your integrity—they are the makings of a true Master."

Altaïr bowed his head at the praise. "You think too highly of me. I am but a youth."

Sena shook his head. "There, you see? That is why I admire you so much." He fingered the red string holding the scroll closed. "Thank you for this chance; the chance to prove I am worthy of admiration, too." And with that, Sena strode confidently across the lane and into the depths of the alleyway.

"You have a fan, it seems," said Malik, amused.

Altaïr shrugged. "He entertains delusions, but I like his spirit. He is admirable, too, in his own way. Imagine someone being that positive after years of bullying!"

"It is indeed an inspiring thing," Malik mused. "Though he thinks too little of himself. He must learn to accept his own short comings before he can become a true Assassin."

The two friends lapsed into companionable silence, eyes fixed on the alley. Minutes later, Sena trotted out of the alley with a grin plastered across his features.

"Success!" he whispered once behind the safety of the hay wagon.

"How did your conversation go?" asked Malik.

Sena sat back to tell the tale. "I entered the alleyway as instructed, feigning exhaustion and fear with every step, and got a very good look at the geography." He sketched an 'L' shape on the ground. "This part," he said, tracing the short side of the 'L', "runs along the back of the house on the alley's left side. There's a bench there, and a well in the curve of the alley. The Instructor was sitting on the bench, cooling himself with water from a bucket (undoubtedly from the well). When he saw me, he leapt up as if bitten by a viper, but calmed once he saw the scroll in my hands.

"I looked scared, and made to run (as you instructed me), but he stopped me. 'Stay,' he said, 'and drink from the well. I do not mean to take the scroll from you.'

"'How do I know this to be true?' I replied. 'You might simply say that to catch me off guard, and then take the scroll.'

"All the while, of course, I eyed the well as if dying of thirst.

"The Instructor laughed. 'We do not take from those that have already passed,' he said. 'Drink with me. You're dying.'

"'I cannot,' I replied, though I made sure to edge noticeably closer. 'Have you not heard?'

"Altaïr, the Instructor rose to the bait, just as you predicted! 'Heard what?' he asked.

"'The Master had sent word that all of the remaining Instructors and Apprentices with scrolls report back to the fortress,' I said.

"The Instructor was, of course, indignant. 'Why have I not heard of this?' he demanded, rising from the bench.

"I cast down my eyes and became the very portrait of humbleness. 'Too many Instructors have secreted themselves away,' I said, 'and no more scrolls can be found. The Master has decreed that everyone regroup at the fortress, then start the Test over again.' This was, of course, a lie I made up on the spot, but he believed it readily enough. I leaned in then, seeing his believing face, and whispered like a conspirator: 'But I am afraid for my safety, and my scroll! Apprentices—maddened by the prospect of success—have attacked Instructors on the way back—fellow Apprentices, as well! So many Instructors crowd the path to the fortress that the Apprentices without scrolls find easy pickings on the road. It is madness to return at this time!'

"'I see,' he said gravely. 'I was hiding, and did not get the news. So we must return?'

"I shuddered theatrically. 'Yes. The Test will not start again until all are present.' Then the Instructor made to exit the alley, but I stopped him. 'No! Not yet! Too many apprentices eager for a scroll crowd the lanes and roads! Best wait a minute more, for them to answer summons and be well away from here!'

"He saw the wisdom in my words, and sat back down. 'What will you do, burdened as you are by a scroll?'

"I pointed at the alley mouth. 'There is a cart of hay. I will hide there until I feel safe.'

"He nodded. 'Why not here?'

"I laughed. 'And risk myself alongside a main target such as yourself? No, thank you!' And with that, I ran out of the alley, and into the arms of my compatriots."

Sena concluded his tale with a gracious gesture that encompassed both Malik and Altaïr. Malik clapped a little after that, and said: "Well told!"

"You performed well, and lie like a professional," said Altaïr. Sena was the one who had made up the lie about the summons to the fortress, without any prompting from Malik or Altaïr. The fact he had made it up without forethought—on the spot, as he'd said—was a true feat indeed. So much pressure, and yet nervous little Sena had maintained his façade. He could probably teach me a thing or two, Altaïr realized.

"Now on with phase two," Malik said. He stood, and so did Sena. Altaïr remained seated.

Sena began to climb into the hay bale. When naught but his head remained uncovered, he said: "I wish both of you the best of luck."

"Luck is not a substitute for skill," Altaïr said stiffly, then loosened. "But, thank you."

"And luck to you too, Sena," Malik said cheerfully, pulling hay over Sena's protruding head.

Sena beamed just as the hay fell completely over his eyes. Voice muffled, he said: "Thank you!", and was silent.

Malik turned to Altaïr. "How long do you think the Instructor will be?"

"Not very," Altaïr guessed. He glanced out from behind the cart at the lane: it was empty. "So hurry!" He rolled to his feet and trotted out from behind the hay bale, then pressed himself flat against the wall to the left of the alley. He dared not look inside it, and stood as still as he possibly could, careful to make no sound.

Across the way, Malik's head poked out from over the top of the hay bale. He nodded at Altaïr, and dashed to the other side of the alley mouth. Then he turned and began to walk away from Altaïr, to an abandoned merchant's stall not two yards away. He crouched low beneath the stall's tabletop, which was still covered with a cheap canvas that blocked him from view.

Altaïr could feel Malik's readiness for action in his bones, and knew that the time for action had come.

As if on schedule, the prey—robed in gray and belted with the red of spilt blood—emerged from the alley.

Altaïr's blood began to boil.

His first 'kill' was now in sight.

AUTHOR'S LETTER, PLEADING FOR SANITY

Long chapter. 3400 words. Lots of exposition. I found Sena funny. Did you read his tuff all overly-dramatic like I asked? Go back and do it if you didn't. It's fun. Next chapter we get ACTION!!!!!

And lots of it.

So I'm in love with a game called Devil May Cry… heard of it? The fourth installment in the series comes out in less than a week, and I'm DYING of anticipation. So, when my friend Jared told me that there was a FREE demo on "PLAYSTATION©Network" (PLAYSTATION©Network has a very specific name, with capital letters and the © symbol), I downloaded it.

Or tried to.

I found out that there's no wi-fi in my house, so I had to do it manually. But guess what? I have internet connection through only ONE phone jack in my house.

But did I know this?

Not until today, when I tried to hook it up with the RIGHT jack (after three failed attempts with other jacks). See, I AT LAST used the jack my computer NORMALLY plugs into. It worked like a dream.

But what kind of dream, you ask?

Easy.

A nightmare.

The software I needed to sign up took an HOUR and a HALF to download; then it took me ANOTHER thirty minutes to actually do the signing up! I misspelled my ID, and can't change it, but the worst part is this:

My beloved DMC4 demo?

It's been downloading for over 8 hours.

That's right. 8. Eight. Ocho. Huit. And it's still on 50 completion.

W.

T.

F.

I mean, WTF!?! EIGHT?!? I knew my connection was slow, but not THIS slow! Argh! And all for ten minutes of game play and a boss fight!

My sanity is shot. What can make it better? Please let me know, cuz I'm stumped!

Sincerely:

S.J.