MALIK
My steps, echoing upon the cobblestones of the labyrinthine dephts, send me back some visions of the past. So many years in there, traveling all across Masyaf and its dizzy vertical hallways, inside that maze-like fortress, with a top touching the sky, melted into the clouds...
There is no other place where a man can enjoy such a panorama. From here, we can see beyond the world and maybe, convince ourself that all of this never existed –that nothing is true, that everything is permitted.
Al Mualim is waiting for me up there. He strangely didn't wish to summen me in his quarters as usual. However, sometimes our master just appreciate climbing the stairs to the very top, then beholding our creed under his eyes, among the rocky and iced valleys, from Masyaf to the distant horizon.
"Malik... Come closer. (He stares at the mountains without moving an inch, like he was drowned in the landscape). I wish to give you a mission, but we'll discuss the details later. We haven't talked for a long time. You were born in this place, Malik... How old are you now?"
"Twenty-three, master."
"And how old is Kadar?"
"Eighteen." (I give him a crooked grin). "A little hothead, so enthusiastic, full of potential though. We just have to wait... He would be an adult before long".
For the first time, Al Mualim drifts away from the landscape and turns towards me. So many hours deep in the citadel get his skin pale, adorned with age spots. The wrinkles in his face outlines the number of the years, in order to never forget how time flies, especially in your own reflection in the mirror. His eyes still sharp under bushy eyebrows, often frowned with severity, but fairness. A thick beard as white as the snow eats his rough cheeks...
The master is not so old, yet he has seen so much generations passed in front of him...
"His apprenticeship will come to its end soon" he says. "He'll make his dreams come true then, and use his skills to serve our Brotherhood".
"Gratitude. He would be honored" I anwser sincerely.
"Tell me, Malik..." (His look drifts away gain. He seems to be very pensive today).
"Yes?"
"Do you like to live here, in Masyaf?"
"Of course".
My answer comes without delay. How else could it be? I grew up in this place. My father was an assassin. My younger brother lives here. All our friends live here. We are supported in there by experienced people who instill values in our minds and give us a decent life, even though it's so easy, in this world, to sink into earthly hell.
"I asked Altaïr the same question some time ago. Do you know what he answered?" (Al Mualim hesitates, then looks at me again). "He said: I consider this place as my home".
I see. Neither a yes nor a no. In short, he prefered to avoid the question...
Probably because he knew that the answer would be not what the master expected.