Chapter Twenty-Six:

Remember the Name

1529

I had to admit that Antonio knew how to fight. He'd recovered astoundingly fast for someone his age and he wasn't holding back when we fought. Antonio, even so, couldn't stand up against a few hundred years' experience.

Antonio thrust his elbow at me, but I side-stepped and kicked him in the side of the head. Antonio fell into the crowd of boys and held his jaw. He looked at me in surprise.

"Damn, you have a hit!" Antonio said, with a smile.

"Every hit you feel, you feel from the House of Auditore," I told him sternly. "I have Marcello and Flavia behind me with everything you feel."

Antonio stood up and straightened his attire out. "And why, pray tell, do you fight for them?"

"Call it a sentimental obligation." I smiled. "I'll take you out with one hit, and you'll feel it for years."

Antonio smiled. "I can take anything you can throw at me, poco Sofia."

I shot my fist forward. Antonio was expecting it, but that was what I was counting on. He tried to move out of the way, but as he did he came into the way of my fist. I slammed into his brain, and he was knocked out cold in seconds.

Cheers and boos came from the crowd. Instead of egging them on like I would have, I grabbed Marcello's arm and dragged him out of the circle of boys. Marcello wiped the rest of the blood from his face and smiled.

"Grazie, but I could have handled—."

"Don't even give me that!" I snapped. "That was stupid for you to have done, even if it was for your sister's honour!"

Marcello blinked. "Preggo?"

I continued to drag him and eventually got us a carriage. Marcello got in and frowned at me.

"Where are we going?"

"Your home," I said. "I'm sure your mother's worried sick."

"I can handle—."

"No, you cannot!" I sighed. "But I can teach you how to." Marcello stared at me to the point where it became unbearable. "What?" I snapped.

Marcello, unlike his father, shook his head. "Never mind," he grumbled.

I sighed. "Mi dispiace if I've hurt your pride in any way, but my intervention had to be done."

"No, it didn't."

I gave Marcello a one-over. He had his jaw set firmly, as Vanni's used to do when he was being stubborn.

"Well, for the sake of your face, I beg to differ," I replied with a wry grin.

Marcello refused to speak to me for the rest of the ride. By the time we arrived at the Auditore Villa in Tuscany, it was dusk. We exited the carriage and I paid the man for his services while Marcello went inside. I heard Sofia talk to him almost immediately. No doubt she was fussing over the blood.

I went inside the home and, indeed, saw Sofia getting a few servants to fetch Marcello some new clothes and draw him a bath. I knew for a fact that Sofia liked to do things like that herself, but I also knew that interrogating her son was much more important at the moment.

"Ah! Sofia!" she exclaimed as she saw me. "What happened? My son will not tell me!"

I smiled and shrugged. "Boys will be boys, madonna."

Sofia seemed to have forgotten that she and I were only supposed to be acquaintances. She immediately took the regular familiarity from her face and resumed a stern, motherly look. "Very well. As soon as my son is out of his bath, you may have one. I want to get the blood off of him, you understand."

"Si, of course. Nessun problema."

Sofia nodded curtly and flashed me a careful smile. Marcello marched up the stairs without a word.

"Where is Flavia?" I asked Sofia.

Sofia sighed, her shoulders drooping as the last of the servants left. "She is back at the house, but she is in her room. She is always there, unless she needs another book to read or is coming for a meal."

"Sounds like your children are quite private," I remarked.

Sofia smiled. "You know, I always hated it when my parents told me to go out and stop reading so much. I never understood why. Now I do." Sofia chuckled. "I do not mind it much, but I miss her company sometimes."

I nodded. Sofia and I sat in front of the fire and shared a glass of Chianti, a popular wine from Firenze, and were trying to subtly catch-up with each other's lives without some of the servants overhearing. Sofia was doing well, but she missed Ezio. I did too. The toll seemed to be the worst on Flavia and Marcello though. They had a father for less time than even Ezio.

Marcello finally left the bathroom, so I decided to get cleaned up before dinner. I spent about ten minutes there before I picked out a clean set of clothes that had been in the satchel on my horse. How Sofia knew my things were there, I wasn't sure. But I figured that Ezio had something to do with it.

I jogged down the steps of the villa and met Marcello at the bottom. "About time," he grumbled.

"You took longer than I did," I said sternly.

Marcello frowned. "Just come. I'm hungry."

Teenagers, I thought with a frown.

1217

With no sign of anyone else, Altair allowed us to meet back up with Darim. My younger brother had nothing to report; no one was following.

"It won't be much longer before we get to Mongolia," Altair said to us as we settled down for the night in an inn. "We can slow our pace, if not to give ourselves some space to breathe, but give our horses a small rest."

I couldn't have agreed more.

Darim flopped onto the straw bed parallel mine and sighed heavily. I followed suite on my own bed. It was nice not to camp, and I decided to make the best of this. I would draw a bath and get cleaned-up. I wouldn't have privacy again for a while, and I disliked when Darim and Altair forgot that Maria and I went for some privacy when we were in the woods.

Finally clean, I decided that my robes would be next. The white had dulled from the dirt on the road. I dressed in simple trousers and a loose shirt and started to clean my robes outside.

A few soldiers from around were passing the inn (which doubled as a tavern) while I was doing so. I have no idea why, but it always seems that strange situations happen to me, like I am some sort of an… attraction for trouble.

They started laughing at me and speaking a language I wasn't yet familiar with. I managed to catch the odd word like, "Strange!" and "My God!", or "Clothes?".

A man came up behind me as I was ignoring the soldiers. I tensed, ready to fight back if he meant harm, but he passed me and proceeded towards the soldiers. He closed the gate to the inn so the soldiers couldn't enter.

"No entry!" the man snapped in Arabic.

The soldiers' heads turned red. "Why not? We are allowed to enter once our shifts are over!" They were speaking back to him in Arabic.

The man pointed at the inn. "The last time you were here, you broke one of my tables! Until you get enough money to pay me back, you cannot enter here!"

"But that table was a month's pay!" one of the soldiers whined.

"Then come back in a month!" the man said swiftly. "And while you're at it, stop speaking of my customers as if they cannot hear you!"

"But she's—!"

"A woman?" the man (who seemed to be the innkeeper) finished for them. "As long as she's staying here, she's my customer, and her gender is disregarded. Now, leave! Before I call your friends and have you arrested for disturbing the peace!"

One of the soldiers reached for his sword. I had long ago left my robes in the water I was cleaning them with, and my sword touched the soldier's throat gently.

"Draw it, if you dare," I growled.

The soldiers all put their hands on their weapons, and then they saw the rest of mine. Wisely, every single one backed away and left. I slid my sword back into its sheath and resumed cleaning my robes as if nothing happened.