Chapter 8

Awww! That Poor Snake Guy Thing-a-ma-bob…

Morgan stared at the people below her in the souqe, Al Shala. Altair was behind her, preparing himself for the battle they both knew was to come. She was sitting on the ground, he legs crossed over the ledge and her arms folded across her chest, a thoughtful look etched into her face. Altair kept glancing at her, wondering what she could be thinking about, that is if she could actually think.

She was a strange girl, full of too much life and independence. As he thought of this, he patted his chest, checking to see if he had anymore throwing knives on him. Of course, he was not permitted to having them; however, for the soldiers on the roofs and far away, he needed them. On top of that, Morgan was quite good with her aim. Last night, she had told them of a game from the future called "darts" or "carts" or something with "arts" in the name. She told him that a board, in the shape of a circle, was hung up on the wall. Then, you took small throwing knives and tried to get it in the center.

This game, she said, had earned her good money. She told Altair that she did something called "hustle" some guys. Of course, Altair had no clue what "hustle" was, and he just shrugged it off and ordered her to bed. Though Altair said that he needed sleep, he earned none.

It was a bad night, and the shadows from the hood hid the bags under his brown eyes. Even on the journey to Damascus, the assassin could get no sleep. His demotion had haunted him, humiliated him, and this girl rubbing that in his face some wasn't helping.

"Altair!!"

Altair jumped and turned to Morgan, who was turned slightly towards him. Her face showed a mixture of concern and confusion. He cleared his throat and went back to his sword. After a good moment, he asked, "What?"

Morgan examined him for a second, "What in the world were you thinking about?"

"Nothing that concerns you, girl!" He snapped.

She flinched, as if his words were actually a swing that connected to her body. She grumbled something and turned back around. Resting her chin in her hand and sighing, she went back to staring at the people in the souqe. The people stood or sat on the well, chatting and enjoying their day. She sighed and decided to try with Altair again. She turned back around and stared at him for a moment. He stopped sharpening his sword and she could feel his eyes on her.

But, much like her mother and brother, Morgan did not break the gaze. After a long moment, she broke the silence between them, "Altair, a man will be killed…"

He straightened a little and nodded slowly, "Yes, I know. Tamir will die; it is why I'm here."

She shook her head, "No, not that… Well, yeah, that, but…" She fumbled with her words slightly. How in the world do you tell someone that you know that someone will die?

He leaned against his knees (for you see, he was sitting on a box) and examined her, "Well, then, be out with it?"

"A snake charmer," She said, just letting the words spill out, "Just, a snake charmer is going to die today…"

Altair went back to his sword, "Not if I get Tamir in time."

Morgan turned back around and leaned back on her arms, staring at the palm trees that surrounded the souqe. "Just try and save him," She said.

Altair stopped sharpening his sword and stared at her. For once, he was a bit surprised; the way she just spoke wasn't like she was begging or anything. It sounded as if she could care less that this man was about to be killed, if he was to be killed. Her voice brought him back, "That's all I'm saying…"

He rubbed his chin and nodded, "I'll see what I can do. If someone gets hurt by his hands, I can't stop that."

Morgan didn't answer, but instead drummed her fingers on the stone. Altair finally stood up and walked next to her on the ledge, "Come on," he said, "It's almost noon."

She stood up slowly and stretched. "Yay," She said, her voice monotone and devoid of any actual excitement, "Let's go kill some- AH!!"

Altair shoved Morgan down into the hay cart and once she landed, jumped down into it himself. Careful not to get hit, Morgan climbed out quickly and stayed crouching on the ground in the shadows. Altair poked his head out of the hay and looked around before jumping out in front of her. She groaned (because he was blocking her view of everything) and gave him a nudge to get moving. He looked over his shoulder and gave her a glare of death.

She gulped and just nodded, understanding what he meant: Do that again, and you will have my blade becoming a removable part of your throat.

"So," Morgan said, looking around, "Where are we placing ourselves?"

"Back into the cart…" Altair said, staring at her.

"What? But we-…"

"No, not me," He said, "Just you."

She almost seemed hurt, "But why!?"

He ducked back when a guard passed by, before saying, "Because of the way you're dressed!"

She looked down at her clothes before looking back up at him, "What's wrong with the way I dress?"

"You stand out too much! The guards will see you quickly and you'll blow my cover."

She looked around to try and find something, only fail. She finally sighed and turned around, "Alright. I'll be in the cart."

"Hey," He said, handing her a couple of throwing knives. "Keep them close."

She took them, counting about 5 or 6, before nodding and going into the cart of hay.

Morgan could see Altair standing in the crowd, drinking some water. Her lips were chapped, her throat was dry, and she was as hot as hell, yet there was Captain Asshole drinking what looked to be cold, wet water. She watched him with longing as the water slipped down his jaw and down his neck and…

She shook her head and licked her lips, which were killing her. She sighed and got more comfortable. It had been about an hour; she had fallen asleep for the first 45 minutes and she was wishing that she had stayed asleep.

"Your men have failed to fill the order, which means I fail my client."

Morgan looked up and over near one of the many entrances to the souqe. In entered Tamir, wearing a red jacket and a turban, with who remembered to be the Snake Charmer. She gulped and realized that the Snake Charmer was the poor guy to get killed, murdered by Tamir.

"We need more time!" The Snake Charmer said, trying to explain the situation to his boss.

"This is the excuse of a lazy or incompetent man." Tamir hissed, turning back to him as they neared the well. Morgan saw Altair stand up and sink into the crowd. "Which are you?"

"Neither," The Snake Charmer answered.

"What I see says otherwise," He rolled his eyes, "Now, tell me, what do you intend to do to solve this problem of ours? These weapons are needed now."

Morgan leaned up against the side of the cart, looking over the edge, making sure to keep enough hay to stay hidden but also see. "I see no solution! The men work day and night. But your…" He clenched his teeth, "'Client' demands so much! And the destination… It is a difficult route."

Please, Snake Charmer, don't be an idiot… Morgan silently pleaded.

"Were it that you could produce weapons the same way you produce excuses!" Tamir growled.

"I have done all I can." The Snake Charmer said, crossing his arms. He was being defiant, not a good idea Morgan noted.

"It is not enough!" Tamir yelled, getting angry.

"Don't say it…" Morgan whispered.

Someone next to the cart heard and looked curiously at the hay cart. "Did you hear something?" His wife asked.

"Then perhaps you ask too much."

Morgan groaned and laid her forehead on the cart, "Idiot…"

"Too much?" Tamir growled, "I gave you everything. Without me, you would still be out charming serpents for coin. All I ask in return is for you to fill the order I bring you and you say I ask too much?" For added effect, Tamir spat in his face, "You dare disrespect me?"

The Snake Charmer realized he was practically screwed. He held his hands up in defense as he saw the glint of shimmer that came from Tamir's hands which was from the knife that he had just drawn. "Please, Tamir, I meant no insult!"

Tamir stepped towards him, "Then you should have kept your mouth shut!" Without another word, the knife was quickly dragged across the man's stomach, making him fall against the well.

"No, stop!" He begged, holding his bleeding stomach.

"'Stop!?'" Tamir laughed, "I'm just getting started!" He grabbed the man's shoulder, making Morgan flinch, "You came into my souqe and dared to insult me!?"

"STOP!!!" Morgan shouted, jumping from the cart.

Tamir looked up from the man, who was gasping and moaning in pain. He glared at her, "Who are you?"

She stopped and looked around, realizing what she had just done. "I-uh…"

"What a minute," His eyes widened, "You're the one who attacked my guards!"

"Wait, I just-!!" She held up her hands, looking around for Altair.

"Get her, men! Bring her to me." A sick smirk crossed his face, "I could use a snack tonight!"

Morgan's upper lip twitched in disgust as the men ran at her, Tamir not to far behind. She reached into her sweater pocket and pulled out the non-existent throwing knifes. She turned to the cart and gasped, "No fucking way!!" She yelled, before turning back to the men.

They had stopped and turned to Tamir who was standing with someone hand on his waist. His eyes were side and he was gasping for air before the man behind him went to lay him on the floor. Morgan let her brow furrow before the entire scene went into the familiar loading area. She looked around, smiling at the sight of comfort. It was just Altair, a near death Tamir, and her. She took a step toward them just in time to hear Altair speak to him, "Be at peace."

"You'll pay for this." Tamir growled. He turned to look at Morgan, "You and all your kind."

"Just to let you know, I'm not his kind." She pointed out, "I'm a girl, not allowed."

"And it seems you're the one who pays now, my friend." Altair added, "You will not profit from suffering any longer."

Tamir shook his head weakly, "You think me some petty death dealer, suckling at the breast of war?"

Morgan cringed, "That was not needed. You could have just said the first part, leaving out the suckling part."

Altair glared at her as Tamir continued, "A strange target, don't you think? Why me, when so many others do the same?"

Altair seemed shocked by this, looking down at the man in his arms, "You believe yourself different then?"

"Oh, but I am!" He smiled, "I serve a far nobler cause than mere profit, like my brothers."

"Brothers?" Altair questioned.

"He must mean the other Templars," Morgan spoke aloud.

"Ah, but he thinks I act alone. I am but a piece; a man with a part to play," Tamir smiled, seemingly proud of himself, "You'll come to know the others soon enough." He coughed, "They won't take kindly to what you have done."

"Good!" Altair smirked, "I look forward to ending their lives as well!"

Morgan shook her head as Tamir sighed, "So much pride," He closed his eyes, "It will destroy you, child. It will destroy you."

Altair laid him down and pulled the feather from his pouch and drew it over the blood at Tamir's lips. Morgan jumped as the sound of the guards rushing at them reached her ears. She turned towards them as Altair stood up slowly and put the feather in his pouch. "Uh, Altair," She said, looking at him, "Don't you think we should be running?"

He didn't answer, just looked at them, "Yes, I suppose we should start running." He nodded.

He grabbed her hand and started towards the cart. Making sure to drag Morgan along, he jumped on the side and launched himself onto the wall, gripping the ledge. Morgan gripped his waist as he pulled them up. The guards screamed and started to throw rocks at the two, one hitting Morgan's legs. She yelped and closed her eyes and Altair grabbed her belt and yanked her up.

He looked at her before gripping her arm and pulling her up, "Come on, we have to get out of here."

They had been sitting in a roof garden for 10 minutes. They had lost the guards a long time ago, but Altair had sat and waited for what she guessed was a punishment to her.

Morgan looked at him, "Back to the Rafek now?"

"Idiot!!" Altair yelled getting up to glare up at her, "You had to go and play the hero, didn't you!? You had to run in where you weren't needed and save the day!"

"Hey," Morgan countered, "I didn't see you going to help that guy!"

"He shouldn't have spoken to Tamir like that!" Altair yelled, tossing his hands in the air, "Besides, it wasn't your place!"

"So you were just going to sit by and watch him be killed?" She said, shocked, "I thought the Assassin's were out to protect people, not watch them be murdered!"

Altair stared at her for a long minute before looking away, "Yes. I'm sure you have a good point, but that still doesn't help the fact that you threw yourself in danger for someone you don't even know, blowing my cover!"

"Your cover!" She yelled, getting out of the roof garden, "Excuse me, I didn't see any guards running at you! I only saw me getting attacked!"

He rolled his eyes, "Trying to tell you that you're wrong is like trying to live with no heart!"

She cringed, "Okay, you and Tamir need to learn some better comparisons! You don't always need to jump right into the whole 'we live in ancient times so nothings really sacred' act!"

Altair pulled out the feather and looked at it, "Speaking of Tamir, what do you think he meant?"

Morgan thought about it, "He has friends… he's sure that they'll be the ones to avenge his death."

"Will they?" He asked.

"I'm not sure I should tell you that." She said, as they started to walk, "Life is supposed to be a surprise; where's the surprise in someone ruining it?"

He nodded, "Yes, I understand."

"Word has reached my ears of your victory!" The Rafek said, hugging Morgan as she walked in. "How was your first time?"

She shrugged, "I saved a guy from being murdered and at the same time helped Altair kill Tamir!"

He smiled, "Not bad for your first time, eh?"

"Not bad at all!" She laughed.

He turned to Altair, "You two have my gratitude and my respect."

Altair handed him the feather, "Thank you."

Morgan smiled and waved, pulling out her pot as she did, "Yeah, thanks."

"It's such a shame the other assassins hold you in such short regard." He said to Altair, getting back to his own pots.

Altair glared at him, "Rafek, I do not care what the others think of me."

Morgan ran her tongue along the inside of her cheek as she listened in. "I think I should make a goblet, what do you think?"

Rafek nodded, "Yes, a goblet sounds like a good idea." He turned back to the assassin who was watching Morgan work. She did look very comical; her sleeves were pulled up, her hair was behind her ears, and her tongue was hanging out as she ran her pale fingers over the clay.

The Rafek looked at Altair, then to Morgan and then back before smiling. "As… you which, Altair." He said, "You should bring news of your victory to Al Mualim. I'm certain he has more work for you to do. And I'm sure he'll be wanting to see your… helper."

Morgan looked up at the Rafek as if seeing him for the first time. "I'm getting to meet Al?"