Author's notes: YAY! OMFG thank you so much EVERYONE for all the fantastic, reviews! They have melted me into a puddle of warm, chocolate goo (and yes, that IS a good thing).

I am ecstatic for getting so much support, thank you ALL!

And Mint, I tried using a thesaurus, and it has certainly helped! Thanks for the advice!

Humm, most of you are going to HATE me for the end of this chapter, but I can't help being evil sometimes. 8D

Salmon and a Warning

The market place wasn't half as busy as I expected it to be, but I still had to edge past the crowds just to get to the butchers. And old woman elbowed me rather painfully in the ribs, and there was a hole in the end of my dress, but it was worth going to the butchers for. They had the finest leg of lamb in Jerusalem, and their sectioned beef was so tender it fell apart in your mouth.

Three days have passed since my husbands absence, already people were beginning to notice. Usually when I ventured into town, I would stop by and visit him at the dock, kiss his cheek and continue on with my chores. Now however, it seems everyone in the town noticed that he was gone.

"The husband leave ya already?" Fadil, the rotund butcher snorted at me, his common accent highly frowned upon in the higher parts of the city. "Been noticin' you only buy fer one now."

I shrugged as he passed me my cutlets over the filthy wooden counter. "He's just away for a while."

"Oh?" He rubbed his round chin with a blood stained hand. "An' he leave you 'ere? 'Aint he know how ta' treat a woman? Bet I could help ya there."

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at me, I felt my stomach constrict, but I tried to keep it light hearted. Though Fadil only jokes and flirts, sometimes his little piggy eyes leer just a slight bit too freely. I tittered at his advances, passed him my coins and quickly left the shop. Ugh, never in a million years…

Looking up and left, I spotted the quick flicker of white robes across the roof of the weaver's shop. Altair was careful to follow my every move into town. I didn't mind in the least, dare I say I might have felt a little special if it wasn't his job to do this.

My last stop was the stand near the well, I was running low on candles and simply refused to walk around in the dark. I needed more thread too, being so bored I decided to repair all my dresses and some of the more tattered looking pillows in the house. Ah yes, and some oils to clean the big pot for heating my bathing water, the bottom was starting to turn black. Busy busy busy.

Diya Al Din owned the miscellaneous stall, an old, balding stick of a man, with sharp features and a thin, hooked nose over his bristly moustache. He reminded me of an underfed eagle every time I saw him.

He greeted me kindly, and we chatted briefly before he handed me my candles and cleaning oils.

"Word has it that your husband has taken ill." He said, a slim long fingered hand going to his chin. "I do hope everything is alright. Mundhir was very efficient with the deliveries of fat for the candles. Please give him my regards."

I put the candles carefully in my thick vellum bag, so as not to squash the meat. "Oh no no. He's fine. He's just… away for a while."

Diya Al Din rose a greying brow. He was a hard man to fool, and I was a terrible liar. His aged face spoke volumes of wisdom and understanding, a learned man, if a little snooty at times, but no less intelligent. He leaned closer to me, speaking in a hushed voice.

"Is everything alright, pet? You seem troubled."

I gulped. Sometimes I would swear the man was telepathic. His old, slightly red eyes scanned me, focusing on the faint, faded bruise on my cheek.

My husband was God knows where, doing what I only hope won't get him killed, the money in the house wouldn't keep me going if he is absent for much longer, and a ruthless assassin is following me around town while I shop.

Something in me wanted to tell him, blurt it out, to get rid of this swelling, bursting feeling in the back of my throat every time I thought about it, but I doubt Altair would be too impressed with that.

"I-I'm fine, Al Din." I said. "Just fine."

A moment longer he held my gaze, my excuse of a lie obviously wasted on him, but he was too polite to say. He nodded and I waved goodbye, the crowds shifting until he was obscured. Ever since I was in my teens, he looked out for me. In his own, slight ways of course. Giving me discounts, helpful encouragement and advice, cheering me up somewhat if I was having a bad day, he was a friendly face to meet on these busy mornings of hustle and bustle.

Others however, were not so friendly.

Aludra, the wife of the head fish monger of Jerusalem, she never took a shine to me. A woman who displayed her wealth, she prowled the streets in her jewellery and expensive dresses, her head held high, less like a woman every day I see her. Tall, thin, incredibly beautiful, since I first moved here and started chatting to the town's women at the well, her feelings towards me have been less than spiteful.

"I hear," she boomed, loud enough for me to hear her in her well spoken Jerusalem accent to her friend, "Mundhir has finally gone for a much prettier wife. Why he married that first one, I'll never understand."

I seethed, trying to keep my concentration on my bag and weaving in and out between the crowds. The voice was behind me however, I could hear the clanging of her bangles as they danced on her arms, and it was getting nearer.

I wonder if Altair killed for money? I'm sure he could do this one job for me, it would be doing many people a favour.

"I can't blame him." She spoke loudly over the crowds. "A man like that wants a woman with better curves! Feminine beauty, class, and some personality to match."

Scoffing, I walked faster, trying to get away from her insults. How dare she! She speaks of class, when she was clearly nothing but a tram-

The one time I bump into someone, it has to be when Aludra was standing right behind me. The woman I nearly knocked over in my haste to get away spit curses at me. The contents of my bag burst and spilled over the dusty earth and cobblestones. The crowds parted like the Red Sea, as if I was creating quite the spectacle.

"I'm so sorry!" I said hurriedly, not even glancing at the woman I bumped into, who marched away fuming. I crouched down, trying to retrieve my escaping goods, the candles suddenly taking a mind of their own and rolling in various directions. Thankfully the earthenware pot full of oil didn't smash, but it did land painfully on my toe on it's way down.

Aludra, finding my predicament hilarious, broke into peals of loud, tinkling laughter with her friend, Farrah.

My eyes stung. Heavily embarrassed, not one person stopped to help me as I fought to retrieve my items. My face was heating up, and I knew it was probably as red as the dress Aludra was wearing at the time.

"And clumsy too, what man would ever make do with such a useless woman?" She spat in my direction, Farrah beside her, nodding eagerly.

I bit my lip, restraining the urge to turn and break the pot of cleaning oil over her head to see if it would clean her wicked thoughts, before a hand clasped around my wrist and gently urged me up off the ground. The hand was missing a tell-tale ring finger.

I rose to my feet, Altair handing me the rest of my shopping that rolled away. I took it gratefully, plunging them back into my bag, his presence if possible, making me blush even more. "…T-Thanks ."

He nodded, throwing a very cold gaze in Aludra's direction, who's laughter died down, and she smirked at me before walking off, her long nails pulling at the heavy beads around her neck, still cursing me to Farrah.

"Who was that?" Altair asked, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder at her.

I giggled at his informality. "Aludra Rihana. She's married to Abdul-Matin, the fish monger."

"Abdul-Matin huh?" He said quietly, a curious hand going to his chin. "I know that name from somewhere…"

Something about Altair's presence seemed to be completely ignored by the crowd. People, even women got in his way, but he gently pushed them to the side, standing slightly in front of me to help make a path. Protectively, he barred me against his back, I was only barely up to his shoulder, using him as a human shield against the constant deafening chatter, the hurried footsteps of guards and crowds of individuals who didn't care where, or more rather who they walked on.

Someone painfully bumped into my back. I stumbled forward, loosing my balance with my bag, but collided softly with a strangled "mmfph!" into Altair's robed back. My hands found his waist, my nose pressing against his spine.

He smelled nice…

Quickly jerking away, I blushed when he looked over his shoulder at me, raising a brow, and I urged him to move, stuttering apologies.

The crowd soon thinned, and he walked by my side rather than in front, like a friend as opposed to a superior. Though I quickly realised it was either to ward others off, or to protect me. His eyes scanned from beneath the hood, as if he was expecting something to jump out and attack at any moment. Something about it reminded me of Adham when he was being protective. Shoulders hunched and forward, head down in more of a glare than in an act of insecurity, hands clenched into fists, cautious, protective, guarded.

Then again, being beside the presence of someone who looked like a monk or a scholar wasn't terribly threatening, despite how broad he is.

A sense of foreboding washed over me, and my mind instantly jumped to my husband. How was he fairing?

"Is everything alright?" I asked shakily, trying to will the tension down.

He stayed silent for a moment, before finally uttering a quiet, "It's fine."

He didn't drop his guard, but I sensed him letting it down just a little. I stopped him when we got to the dock of the river. "Thanks for helping me back there."

Not a sound passed his mouth, but he inclined his head at me.

"So… Now that I have your undivided attention," I teased, "is there anything particular you like to eat?"

I think this was the first time I've ever seen his expression go blank. His mildly confused stare almost made me laugh.

Almost…

"You know, food? I'll cook for you, if you want."

Unfortunately, he frowned condescendingly. "That's not necessary."

"Come now, Altair. It's the least I can do, after all, you are protecting me."

"It's my mission to do this."

"Regardless of that, I'm bored and need something to do. I don't care how exotic, how technical the recipe is, I will make it for you, if you wish."

An eyebrow rose. "So it's not so much out of the goodness of your heart, than sheer boredom?"

"You see, it sounds bad when you say it like that." I gestured exasperatedly to him with my bag.

An odd look passed over his handsome features. It was a sort of lopsided little smile, as if he forgot what a real smile actually looked like. Folding his arms, his eyes darted to the dusty ground, studying the cobble and loose stones, and then back to me.

"I can't argue with you, can I?" He cocked his head to the side.

Pouting, I shook my head. "Of course not! Am I not a woman?"

He exhaled noisily, shaking his head. Brown eyes darted to the dock and stalls lined up along the river. The fishermen stood by their boats and counters of baskets full of fish and shells, noisy and shouting, reeking of mud, brine and angle and sweat. The dirt road was wet with river water.

"Salmon." He said curtly. "Baked salmon."

I made an approving noise, fishing around in my bad for the rest of my coins. I still had a few sheqels and three denari left (1), that would be more than enough for salmon. I hoped he would have picked something a little more… technical to make, but I can always spruce it up with one of my mother's old recipes.

Lord, I haven't made salmon since I married Mundhir. He hated fish. It would be nice to have a bit of a change…

Luckily, I didn't start talking before I looked up because, as always, he disappeared again, leaving me in the middle of the street. Bemused, I looked around, glimpsing him blend into the shadows between two buildings. Shaking my head with a sigh, I turned back and started off down the dock of the river.

Utterly beaming, I looked around at the stalls, searching eagerly for the perfect fish. After all, my mother always told me the best way to a man's heart was through his stomach…

I think I had done rather well, considering the spices I had left over and almost forgotten on my shelves. Now, the whole house smelled of freshly baked salmon and sauce, Adham eagerly begging for scraps by my heels.

Lost in a daze, my train of broken thoughts slowly found their way to my husband, and I near dropped my large spoon, stirring the sauce. How… how was he doing? I quite liked having the house to myself. It was quiet, I could clean and cook and make a new patchwork quilt for the bed, without disturbance. My husband could be demanding at times, and it often left things half done.

Then I started worrying about him. About money, about the house, about me and the town. To be honest, I didn't really care what the people of Jerusalem thought, but if the women down by the well somehow caught the vicious rumours and took them as truth… then I really would be alone in this house. In this place. And I liked it here too much to loose it.

I hoped he wasn't in any danger. I, being his wife, knew more about him than anyone else. There were times with him when I felt somewhat connected, loved. And others, when I felt hated and useless. But of course, every marriage has it's ups and downs, right? I just hoped that wherever he was, and what ever he was doing he wasn't suffering. He may have gotten both of us into this mess, but he was a level headed and decisive man, so he may just pull us out. At least something good came from this, even if it was the most unpredictable and unlikely thing to have ever happened to me.

The sauce was ready, filling the kitchen with the most wonderful scent of cream and cayenne peppers. Adham whimpered at me again, nudging the back of my thigh with his head.

Taking the heavy bucket of water, I poured it into the recess cut out of the floor and back wall, where the fire was cooking, the water coldly extinguishing the dancing flames.

"No Adham, this is not for you." I patted him on the head, and he whined as I poured the last of the sauce into a bowl with the fish, carrying it out of the room with a wineskin bag of water.

After retrieving the ladder, shaking off a few rather ugly looking spiders from the rungs, I hauled myself up onto the roof, bowl balanced in my hand, triumphantly gazing at the evening sky. Altair stood, shoulder against the chimney, his head swivelling in my direction as I noisily grunted my way up the ladder, which was somewhat difficult to do one-handed.

"Dinner!" I chimed in victory of my achievement, thanking my blessed mother for beating cooking skills into me from a young age. Beaming, I handed him the bowl and water, which he took albeit reluctantly, but still bowed in thanks.

"You didn't have to…" but he trailed off, obviously not in the mood for an argument. Either that or pleased he had a proper meal.

The view from the roof looked so… amazing. The sky was a streaky gold and pink, the moon to the far left was just beginning to peak out over an ochre cloud, while the sun set brilliantly orange over the horizon, casting a strange glow on the stone houses and buildings. Stars, barely beginning to shine through, defied the sunset with their light.

Altair sat down towards the sunset, and I followed suit.

Jerusalem was beautiful at times like this. The early summer breeze was warm, and smelled of sand and earth. I sighed contentedly, casting an eye on my company.

Overjoyed he was eating, a swell of pride welled up in my stomach when I found his expression content, and distant. So my food was good, I thought.

I've never felt this happy for someone liking my cooking before. Though Mundhir praised my culinary knowledge, those compliments were nothing compared to how, well… wonderful it felt to cook for someone else and know they were enjoying it.

It was nice, sitting up here, silent but not lonely.

After minutes of silence, I heard the clink as he set the bowl down, and uncorked the wineskin bag. With a quick glance, I saw the bowl was empty. Completely empty. Sometimes I love being a woman.

"…Thankyou." He said quietly, before putting the wineskin aside.

Funny, how for one brief moment I was so close to him, so wonderfully close, and now…

"Think nothing of it." I answered.

My gaze fell on him again, he sat with his arms resting on his raised knees, the light warm air threatening to blow his hood back, but it only shook, as if fastened to his head. His straight nose, angular masculine lips and stubbly chin protruded from the white, still as the grave, and expressionless. He caught me looking, and I quickly turned away, a foolish, girlish grin spreading across my face when I knew he was well aware of my stare. I blushed too.

"You do that constantly." He said lowly. "Avoid my eyes."

That was because every time I met his gaze, those intense brown irises felt like they were burning holes into the back of my skull. My heart would beat wildly, my stomach turn with excitement.

"I am… embarrassed."

His silence said everything. He knows what I mean, and I silently hate myself for it. It's not like I could forget, and I doubt he was expecting to see me again after that night. I think my sudden lurch into his life startled him a little, and he tried to go on as if it never happened. This is just his job, he's supposed to do this.

When he finally speaks again, his words agrivate me. "I'm… I must apologise. I didn't know you were married when..."

Why I was aggravated by that, I couldn't really tell. I guess it's because…

"I did tell you."

A pause, before he said, "I thought you were lying."

Again the silence, and I feared I may have annoyed him. With the hood, I couldn't see what he was looking at, but his face was turned to the side, and I watched his lips move as he sighed, then spoke again.

"It was only part of my mission. I did not intend for this to happen."

"… I know." I didn't really know what else to say, so I stayed silent.

The sky soon began turning darker, but the air was still as warm, painting the clouds a vivid pink and streaky purple.

"What made you think I was lying?" I asked.

He turned to look at me, and my stomach made that turning-backwards sensation again."…Honestly, I thought you were a whore."

My reaction must have been expected. Just as an incredulous exclamation passed my lips, he held up a hand to stop me.

"A woman out that late at night," he continued, "they usually don't have husbands, and only roam the streets looking for one thing. What were you doing out that late?"

Should I tell him I was trying to defy my husband? The man whom I devoted all of my spare time to, who only allowed me to leave the house in the day? I knew the reason why now, he was trying to keep me from harm. He did care.

But I wasn't thinking like that at the time. I was just… angry.

"I… I was lost." I said. "My husband…" But I trailed off. How dare I defy my husband, and I was sure Altair would think the same of me, it was my own fault for leaving the house alone at night. I should have known better. Then again, we would never have met in quite that entanglement if I didn't. He made me realise how much I didn't want my husband, how much I wanted a change, and how frustrated it made me just being here.

But what choice did I have? I can't just throw it away and pretend it was nothing.

No one ever treated me like that before, like Altair did that night. It couldn't have been all me, and if God truly is vengeful, then why are our paths crossing like this? Alone together, talking, venting on my part, opening up (again on my part) to one and other. Does God want me to suffer for what I did, by being tempted with what I can't have, with what I shouldn't have?

Surely, God is merciful, and without spite. But if that is the case, is Altair's presence good, or bad?

And what was the assassin thinking anyway…?

I just… don't know. Perhaps I will find out at a later time. I hope I get a sign, something, anything.

"Your husband…" he started cautiously, as if deciding if he should speak, "are you worried for his safety?"

Of course I was. He was my husband, after all. But I worry not only for him, for everything. His well being, his sanity. The house, the money, the food. Adham. Everything about his absence worried me. What if… he… died? What would I do? Would I be the devoted lovebird, and join him in death, or would I carry on, alone?

Devoted lovebird…? That doesn't sound like me at all. I was devoted, but…

"An awful lot more than you think, Altair. My husband is a… well, a shifty man. But he is no less than anyone else. He is strong in his own ways, and I pray that his strength will end all this. For both of us."

I paused for a moment, deciding what to say next, feeling the eyes from beneath the hood looking at me, analysing me. I met it, concerned, fragile at that moment. Why must I always be told what to do, where to go, and what I should know? Why? What is the purpose? I understand a lot of things far better than most men, I try to look for the best outcome, I'm optimistic, and sympathetic. So why must I always be left behind?

"Altair," honey brown eyes met mine, and I shivered at the intensity of them, feeling the space between us lessen to almost nothing, like I was right beside him as opposed to the few feet away I was now, "what is all this about?"

My voice was weak, I could feel the frustration of the past few days take it's toll, welling up inside my head. Frustration of unawareness of the situation. Of my husband's dirty deals. Of my own powerlessness to stop it. Of my hatred, my dammed female heart for thinking I could gain, an assassin of all people as a friend. I wanted more, and it hurt that I couldn't have it.

A grey eagle flew across the roofs to the left. And just as he was about to speak, it cawed loudly, and his head darted to look for the source of the noise.

I watched him, his eyes once again hidden beneath the white hood, but his mouth protruding. A second, he stood up swiftly and gracefully, looking over the roof to the ground below, then to the eagle. His mouth opened only slightly, but I saw it, and it… scared me.

He grabbed my arm, roughly hauling me upwards. "Get back inside. Now."

The urgency in his voice shot through me like a kinfe. It was so cold I could almost feel ice pouring from his mouth in a warning growl.

"What, but I-"

Pulling me forward to the edge of the roof, he looked back to the eagle, which was flying off to the right.

"No questions. Just go!"

Urging me down the ladder, I paused, my knees wobbling dangerously as I looked at the ground down below. What was going on? The faint clank of armour reached my ears, and I froze in shock. Was someone coming?

Loosing his patience with an aggravated snarl, he picked me up by the waist, ignoring my cry of surprise, and easily slid down the ladder. Taking my hand, he tugged me into the house, the sound of armour getting a little nearer now.

I couldn't help but pray to God at every hurried step.

Author's Notes: (1) Sheqels and Denari were coins then, I'm sure. I looked it up on wikipedia, and I'm sorry if it got the wrong time zone or something!

Thanks for taking time to read! Don't you just HATE cliffhangers? 8D ---- (I love this face)