Altair rode at a walk, and Desmond and Stacy followed as if held on a leash.
"Where are you taking us?" Stacy called up to the assassin, but he ignored her.
"Al Mualim," Desmond mumbled, putting his forehead in his hand. Altair glanced down at him in minor surprise.
"What?" Stacy asked.
"His leader, the big bad." He glanced up at the Master Assassin. "Er, the big good."
"The head of the Assassins?"
"That's the one. I hope he doesn't do to us what he did to... God, I hope he..." He didn't finish either of his sentences as he stared into the sky. This didn't leave Stacy with a happy feeling.
They walked for a while in silence before Desmond started mumbling again. "The more I think about it, the less I want to ever meet that man. He was nice enough when I-" he glanced at Altair. "He's merciful to some people, but not to me. I haven't really met him yet, but I know him and... he's gonna kill us... Oh, God, this is real..."
Both Stacy and Altair were looking at him when he made his move. He probably knew he didn't have much of a chance, but in one fluid movement he turned and sprinted in the other direction.
Altair turned his horse and set it off at a gallop, leaving Stacy behind, bewildered. Subject Seventeen was a highly confidential case, but she had an idea about what they were doing. They were putting him on the Animus, fishing for another artifact. The most important one. The Animus looked into the memories of ancestors by reading DNA. Was Altair related to Desmond?
Altair rode back within a minute, Desmond on the back of the horse and sporting a very ugly bruise on the side of his face. He smiled at Stacy, though it looked painful.
"Hey, Stace," he said, as Altair lowered him to the ground with one arm and set off at a slow walk. "That was thrilling."
"Looks like it," she said, poking his bruise. He cringed, glaring at her.
The rest of the walk could almost be called uneventful, but it seemed to pull on for days. Stacy didn't exercise much other than the occasional minute on the treadmill or stair stepper, and soon found nearly all of the muscles in her body (including, to her puzzlement, her arms) screaming for her attention. The only reason she even tried to keep up was that if she stopped to sleep or rest or possibly pass out, Altair would either kill her or leave her behind. She had the artifact with her, but something told her that it wouldn't work even if she knew how it did in the first place.
Soon, but not soon enough, Altair got off of his horse. Desmond walked over to it, seemingly noticing it for the first time.
"Hey," he said, petting the horse's neck, "It's Eagle. I love this girl." He hugged the mare, earning strange looks from both Stacy and the assassin.
Altair took Desmond away from the horse by his shoulder and led the two through wooden city gates. After about five minutes of more walking, Stacy found herself in the courtyard of some kind of castle or palace. Though there were strange purple spots everywhere and she was in fear of passing out, her eyes widened at the sheer beauty of the place.
Both Desmond and Altair continued up the steps, not even looking around. She closed her mouth, which she hadn't even realized was open, and followed them, her legs somehow finding sudden strength now that their goal was in sight.
Altair led them (though it seemed like Desmond didn't even need him) into the palace and up the stairs, and stopping, finally, in front of a very important-looking desk and a very important-looking white-bearded man.
When she stopped walking, Stacy collapsed into a heap on the floor, unable to do much else. The man who she assumed to be Al Mualim rose an eyebrow at her.
"What is this you have brought, Altair?" he asked.
"Strangers. Traitors, perhaps. They know of our Creed."
Al Mualim rose both eyebrows this time, eyeing Stacy and Desmond. "They have come from far," he said, "The hues of their skin are unlike our own. Why travel such a long distance to betray our Brotherhood?"
"But we aren't going to betray your Brotherhood," Desmond replied.
"Traitors lie," Altair hissed.
"Look, I'll tell you everything I know about you guys, okay? I'll tell you what kinds of weapons Altair uses. I'll say how many people I know here. Hell, I'll even tell you how many fucking ranks there are, for Christ's sake! Just don't kill us!"
Stacy couldn't see Altair's face, but she practically felt rage steaming from it.
"We will hear you," Al Mualim decided after a pause, "Then we will decide your fate."
Desmond heaved a sigh of relief.
"Meanwhile, you will be kept in the dungeons."
His sigh was cut short. "Dungeons?"
"You are a stranger. We cannot let you have any freedom about the grounds. Both of you will be our prisoners."
Desmond took a step forward. "I know this place like the back of my hand! There aren't any dungeons here!"
Al Mualim presented him with a small smile. "Then perhaps you have been misinformed." With a small snap of his fingers, two people came from nowhere. One of them latched to Desmond's arm, dragging him back down the steps. The other one picked Stacy up with an iron grip, which was the last thing she felt before slipping into unconsciousness.