Chapter 15:
When Fang wakes up in the morning, he's startled at the sight of Max's face inches from his, his body seizing up and twitching away from her.
"Oh, Shit." He sighs, forcing himself to relax again. He doesn't wake up to other people often, and the chill of the morning air is easily fended off as he moves to hold her warm body closer to him. She snuffles and turns her face up, eyes cracking open and eyebrows drawing together again as she wakes, only to bury her face down again.
"Good morning." He murmurs, and Max grunts and turns onto her other side, pressing her back into Fangs chest.
"I'm not awake yet." She grumbles, and he snickers and rolls away from her and out of bed. He's a light sleeper, and he never needs time to wake up, he was trained to wake up immediately when he was just a little kid.
"Hey! Don't leave!" Max bolts up in bed, holding one arm out to him. Her hair is snarled, and he just smirks, pulling his tunic over his head, and unwrapping the bread from the fabric he left it wrapped in by the fire.
"I'm not leaving, I'll be in the office downstairs." He says, and she casts him a glare before flopping back in the blankets and sighing. Fang smiles in her direction before washing his face in the basin and shrugging on his white over-tunic and fastening his belt. Max moves to Fangs spot on the bed and watches him dress with a furious blush and the blankets drawn over her head.
"What are you doing today?" She asks, and he peers back over at her with his lopsided smirk. She'd never seen the body of another person, let alone the body of a boy. Sure, she's seen all kinds of "things" that weren't for her eyes while on missions, but those sights were never like this. It wasn't her, lying in a bed watching a tanned and scarred assassin dress, watching him smile at her occasionally.
"I've got Al Mualims books to go through. He kept records of all the assignments carried out, there's gotta be something in there about his manipulations." He says, buckling his hidden blade to his wrist and flexing his fingers around it. Max thinks hard about manipulation. She wiggles her right hand out from under the blankets and holds it up, framing Fang with the gap where her missing finger should have been.
"When did he take your blade finger." She asks, and he looks at her like a deer in the headlights, his hand frozen in mid air with his finger on the leather strap of the blade, her newly healed finger gap strange on her hand, the scars from infection still pink.
"You don't want to know that." He says, animating again. His mind sinks, and he has to force himself not to turn into Altair with her. He remembers losing his finger, Al Mualim holding the sharp chisel over his twelve year old hand, the descencion of the mallet that took his finger from his hand. He doesn't want to burden her with that.
"What if I do want to know?" She says, and he moves to where she is on the bed, pushing the blankets away from her shoulders and pulling her to sit up, his hands moving from her shoulders to her face, holding her cheeks. His eyes are searching hers, the new scars on her face. She's just like him now, he doesn't need to hide anything from her.
"I'll talk to you if you come downstairs." He says, pushing away from her and crouching in front of the now-dead fire and prodding the coals back to life with a few sticks. Max sits up and rubs at her eye with the back of her hand.
"Okay." She slides out of the bed, shivering under her tunic in the chilly morning air, happy to pull her white tunic over her shirt and leggings. Fang busies himself with slicing the bread and Max takes a peice and chews. She leans closer to him, nudging him with her elbow.
"Thanks." She says, and stands, leaving the room to go downstairs, swinging onto the top of a bookshelf from halfway down the ladder. She waits for Fang to come downstairs, and watches him sift around Al Mualims desk while she chews on her slice of bread.
"I was twelve. Al Mualim gave me and Iggy our first hidden blades." He says, and Max pauses mid-chew. He had his finger cut off when he was only twelve? She can't imagine a twelve year old doing the same training she'd done. Twelve year old Fang fighting with a sword and losing feeling in his hand, cradling his infected finger at night and struggling to hold back tears as he cleans the wound by himself.
"I had Iggy, and Nudge a year later, to train with. I think that was when I started questioning his methods. None of the others thought that he was cruel, but I don't think any of us knew any better." He says, his brow furrowed and looking down at his hands, flat on the cover of a book.
"So why did you?" She asks, and he peers at her to the side, flipping to book open and scanning the pages with a furrowed brow.
"Don't know. Maybe because I started missions early. Al Muslim declared me his predecessor, said I was talented." Fang says with a withering expression, and Max pauses. She didn't know Fang, or rather Altair, was going to be the next guild leader. Maybe killing Al Mualim was just something that every next-in-line did. She hoped corruption wasn't the next step after becoming guild leader.
"Hey Max?" He says after a long pause, and she gives him a look with her eyebrows raised.
"I don't know how to read." He says, and she swings down from the bookshelf to where he's standing over a book of records looking utterly confused. She thinks for the first time in a long time that they're going to figure everything out. She reads the books out loud, and he occasionally frowns and has her write down things of a separate piece of parchment. She's not sure what he's looking for in the slough of names, but after a while things begin to fall together. There are seven particular code names for people who have donated the most money to the Templar movement, and she knows a few of them.
"Fang, isn't this Garner De Neoplouse and Tamir?" She asks, and Fang grits his teeth and bends over where she's sitting in Al Muslims old chair. He rests his chin on the top of her head.
"And this is your father." He points to one of the names, and moves his finger to another a little farther down the list. Max expects him to be there, and it comes as no surprise, but not without a slight sting.
"This is Al Mualim." He says, and Max inhales sharply.
"What?" She asks, feeling devoid of breath. If he's on this list, it means he's one of the nine in the templar order, or would he be the tenth, because all the information on the templar order went through him, he could easily filter out what he wanted the ranks of the assassins guild to know.
"How can that be possible?" She asks, and the weight of Fang's chin is gone and he's sifting through the drawers.
"He must know…He must have known…" Fang is saying under his breath, and Max is out of the chair and watching him.
"What is it?" She asks, and he rips out a paper from a book, a face of glee.
"I found the answer." He says, and she just juts her bottom lip and he hands her the paper.
"This has the Apple on it! The thing we need!" He says, and Max takes it, a drawing of an orb with a forked pattern, drawn in old charcoal with a description.
"Fang, this isn't an apple." Max says, and he punches her shoulder, rolling his eyes.
"Duh, I know that. This thing, it's a treasure trove of knowledge, techniques and power that we haven't even imagined. Max, with this, we could rebuild the world, we could stop the templars!" He says, his eyes alive with an enthusiasm she'd never seen before, and something about it frightens her. Fang knew that Al Mualim was looking for it, he'd make little comments that would indicate that he was, Fang just didn't think that Al Mualim would betray the guild to do that.
"So where is it?" She asks and his grin widens. He looks like a coyote to her.
"That's the fun part, finding it." He says, and she sneers. She knows he's talking about doing missions. They might be as easy as breathing to him, but Max doesn't want to kill any more people, unless they're her traitor father. She has enough blood on her hands.
"If Al Mualim knew where it was, shouldn't it be here?" She asks, turning in the high backed chair to watch him sift through the bookshelves for more journals.
"No, I don't think the rest of the members of the templar order would have let him keep it. They would leave it in the care of the leader, so.." He trails off, looking at her to finish his sentence.
"My father."
"Right. They especially wouldn't be passing it around now that we've been picking off the lower ranks." Max's eyebrows raise as she puts one and two together.
"So, Al Mualim was having me kill them off so I could steal it for him." Fang nods, still grinning. Max decides he looks scary when he smiles.
"Exactly. He couldn't ask for it, so he'd kill for it." He confirms and Max turns back in her chair. She couldn't imagine killing off Iggy, Nudge and Fang just for an object.
"That bastard." Max wished she could go back in time and help kill Al Muslim while she had the chance.
"So, will you help me get it?" He asks, and Max shoves her chair back to stand.
"You know you're not much better than Al Muslim for wanting it." She says accusingly, leaning one hip against the table while he pulls leather bound journals from the shelves and drops them too the desk.
"I'm much better than Al Muslim for wanting it. I'm not killing my friends." He says, giving her a pointed smile. She grimaces.
"That's not what I'm trying to say." She says, but she's not sure what she's trying to say. She knows Al Muslim made it his life work to find it, that he betrayed his guild and ultimately his new partners in the templar order. If Fang became the same way, obsessed with the apple, would he betray Max the same way Al Muslim did?
"I'm taking it because it belongs to the guild. That kind of knowledge in templar hands could be catastrophic if they figure out how to use it." He says. He seems to have sensed Max's tension, and he pauses next to her at the desk.
"I'm not going to make the same mistakes Al Muslim did." He says, and Max kicks him in the ankle.
"Good. If you even think about it, I'll gut you." She says, and he flinches and shifts his weight to his uninjured foot.
"I know! God, do you have to maim me to make a point?" He hisses, and she smiles down at him, hands on her hips.
"Yes." She says, turning on her heel and leaving down the left staircase.
"And I'll help you find your apple!" She calls over her shoulder, Fang grinning in response. Max is down the stairs and out the back threshold, feeling light and happy, having agreed with Fang. Something about the adventure of searching for the apple and killing bad people sounds exciting. She takes off across the garden, planning on spending the rest of her day swimming in garden fountains and resting.
Upstairs, Fang glares at the bookshelf to his left.
"It's rude to eaves drop." Fang snarls, and Iggy steps out from the other side, a frown on his normally cheerful face.
"Did you mean it?" Iggy asks, and Fang sighs. It's tiresome holding a cat and mouse game with Max, who's used to conversation about controversial topics.
"About what." He asks, and without thinking, Iggy steps into the circle in front of the desk when he's speaking to Fang. Something about the way Iggy moves there without even looking makes him feel a little queasy.
"You're going to find the apple?" Iggy asks, and Fang motions him to come closer to him. Iggy moves out of the circle cautiously and leans against the side of the bookshelf.
"How much of our conversation did you listen too?" Fang asks, and Iggy just gives Fang a sinister smile, indicating 'all of it'.
"If you do make a move to get it, you have to let me help." Iggy says, and Fang's head snaps up from where he was leaning over papers that he didn't know how to read. Fang expected Iggy to be angry about him wanting to find the apple, not to mention angry about Al Mualim's murder.
"Why?" Fang asks, and Iggy moves from where he's leaning on the bookshelf to stand in front of the broken windows looking outwards.
"You didn't let me help kill Al Mualim. I mean, come on, I thought we were friends at least." Iggy whines, a tone of humor to his voice. Fang is close enough to shove him, and Iggy smiles.
"I didn't think you'd want too." Fang says, and Iggy shoves him back. Fang thinks about what Max would think of their conversation, smiling while talking about how they killed their master.
"I had as much reason to hate him as you." Iggy says, and Fang nods. He really thought that Iggy thought of Al Muslim as a surrogate father, but in truth Iggy was just better at veiling his feelings than Fang.
"Anyway, I don't think you've met Al Mualim's apprentices." Iggy says, and Fang feels his stomach drop. More kids with knives that they don't need. He just hopes they aren't under the age of eight, he doesn't think he could bring himself to take the fingers of any children. Al Mualims apprentices would transfer to Fang now that he's dead and Fang's taken the place of guild leader.
"Now's a good time to meet them." Fang says, avoiding any more dancing around the subject. Iggy turns and Fang follows, down the stairs and down to the latched cellar under the church where the apprentices hide. The place is hot, and smells of mildew and old food. Grey stone columns hold up the low ceiling, and dark shadows blot out most of the spaces he knows are behind them. When he was a child, Fang also lived down here. It was dark and had good places to hide when there were raids on the church.
Iggy calls into the echoing basement, a small figure in white emerges from the darkness, silent as a shadow. When they see Iggy, the girl pushes her hood back to reveal braided blonde hair and a solemn face.
"This is Angel, Aveline outside of sanctuary." Iggy says, striding towards the girl. She averts her eyes when Fang nears. She looks to be around sixteen, but she's probably only fourteen, knowing the stress the life of an assassin puts on you. Iggy introduces Fang to Angel briefly, and she nods stiffly.
"Where's your brother?" Iggy asks, and Angels eyes momentarily flick up to Fangs. Her expression is still solemn, but her eyes are begging, desperate. Angel doesn't say anything, she just turns and disappears into the catacombs. Iggy and Fang follow, the feeling of unrest and a small cough in the darkness echoing off the walls. They go deeper, and Fangs eyes adjust to the darkness. At the very back of the basement, there's a boy in a ragged tunic slumped against the wall. As Fang gets closer to him, the bloom of blood on his shoulder becomes more alarming.
"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" Iggy asks, and Fang moves to crouch by the boys shoulder, his fingers ghosting over the patch of blood. The edges of it seem dry, and as he leans in to inspect and sniff it, it smells foul and infected. Angel warrily looks at Fang out of the corner of her eye.
"If we get injured on mission, it is our own duty to mend our wound." Angel recites, and both Fang and Iggy's lips curl. That was a rule Al Muslim enforced when they were going through training too. Iggy recalls one young boy a few years younger than him who died of an infected slice to the back of his neck that could have easily been taken care of, but it killed him instead. Al Muslim called it natural selection.
"Al Mualim is dead." Fang says, pulling the collar of the boys shirt away from his shoulder to inspect the wound under the fabric. Angel draws a deep breath through her nose and the boy groans and his eyes open when the shirt pulls away with a large section of scab, releasing a new trickle of blood. The wound is bound with messy stitches that are too shallow and too few, the surrounding skin a sickly yellow color.
"For how long?" Angel asks, crouching down to help Fang ease the boys shirt over his head. Her eyes are wide, bewildered, and innocent, though she is probably far from innocent.
"A day. I'm sorry I didn't know you were down here before." Fang says, and Angel continues to stare at him as he prods the boys wounds. He's awake now, and watching Fang out of his peripheral vision.
"I wish I was the one to kill him." Angel hisses under her breath, and Fang laces his arm behind the boys to help him to his feet. Like Fang though he would be, he's weak and unable to support his own weight, but Angel catches him under his other arm and they slowly move him out of the cellar.
"So do I. Our new guild leader will be better." Iggy says, and Fang maneuvers the boy so he's riding on Fangs back, his head lolling into Fangs neck. They climb up the ladder and into the light, where Angel shields her eyes with her forearm.
"Are you going to be the new master, Iggy?" Angel asks, her tone borderline hopeful. Fang walks ahead and back into the church, up the stairs to his office where he lays the boy down on the table over the papers and books, not caring if they get stained.
"No, that will be Fang." Iggy says, and Angel raises her eyebrows and points at Fang. To Angel, Fang is too young to be a guild master, and he's definitely not acting how a guild master should. Al Muslim didn't get his hands dirty, but Fang had just carried her brother up a ladder and laid him over Al Muslims desk, and was now cutting her stitches and wiping the excess blood away from the wound with a damp cloth.
"Master Fang?" She asks, stepping to Fang's side. He flinches at the formality.
"Fang in the sanctuary. Master Altair everywhere else." He tells her, and she beams at him. She finds herself too choked up to offer to help him with anything. From what she's seen of his so far, he seems kind, much kinder than Al Mualim.
"What's your name?" Fang asks the boy, whose eyes are closed and his face relaxed.
"Galino. Gazzy in sanctuary." He replies, and Fang nods, threading a needle and beginning his first stitch. He watches Gazzy's face, and the boy doesn't flinch when Fang makes his first stitch, encouraging him to keep going and get it over with even though the flesh is badly inflamed.
"Nice to meet you, Master Fang." Gazzy says, and Fang is halfway done with his stitches, Iggy stands next to Fang and pours a small amount of clear alcohol into a bowl and dipping a cloth into it.
"Just Fang." He tells him, and Gazzy nods stiffly, looking just like his sister.
"Understood." Gazzy confirms, and Fang clips the stitches, moving away to let Iggy cleanse and wrap the wound.
"I'll be assigning you a room upstairs, but I'm going to need something from you in return." Fang says, and Gazzy's eyes open and meet his.
"Anything."
"I want you to help me gather information on the apple of Eden when you heal, and not a week before." Fang says, and a smile blooms over Gazzys face. The Apple of Eden is a myth to every assassin, and looking for it would be like chasing a fairy tale that just recently became real.
"I serve your guild."