Note ~ Bit of a transitional, this one. I didn't want to make everything happen at once. ;P

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"Woah," Altair soothed, bringing his horse to a halt outside of Damascus' looming entrance.

The sun was lost behind the peaks, leaving a cloaked desert night behind. This was perfect for prowling the streets; plenty of shadows to lend their aid. To tell the truth though, Altair had never liked Damascus at night. It was too dangerous for its own good. Madmen stalked the alleyways until the wee hours of the morning and guards jumped at anything that moved. It was not uncommon for wandering citizens to be slaughtered by frightened guards, then thrown in the river and deemed missing.

Altair dismounted and patted his steed reassuringly as a promise of his return, though he imagined he would be in Damascus for a while. He sifted through his memories to recall the exact appearance of the strange girl so that he might recognize her in the tan bustle of the city. She was pale. That was a start. But what else? Her hair was…Altair winced, his memory fading. He had only seen her once, after all. He didn't even know what color her eyes were…

He thumped himself on the forehead like such an action would suddenly make him remember everything about her; the shape of her lips, the curve of her face, everything. But nothing came. All he could think of was pale, which was not a very good lead. Pale skin was not as uncommon as many believed it to be in the desert.

Suddenly, Altair felt himself feeling very lost. He had been prepared to question citizens as to the whereabouts of a pale girl with so-and-so eyes and so-and-so hair length. For some naive reason, he had thought that he was fully armed with a spate of details to lead him, but he had nothing. And all in one second, he was a novice again. He was stupid, fumbling around in arrogance and pride.

But why? Why was he suddenly so foolish? Perhaps it was his aching desire to bring the girl back into the hands of the assassins. Perhaps he was letting his emotion run ahead of him, yanking on his robes and making him stumble over what should be easily-avoided obstacles.

He shook his head. Before he did anything he would have to discern the location of this doctor, Zafar Hadad. He didn't expect it to be too hard. Information gathering was one of his specialties. Still, he found the task slightly tedious. It was usually left to the lesser assassins, but he had none at his disposal. He sighed. It certainly did feel like he was a novice all over again, but with the wisdom of a master. Why did this girl have to come and make life so complicated?

Altair slid in with a group of ghostly scholars who were passing through the entrance guards. There was always an abundance of them circulating in and out of the cities, chatting about literature or praying quietly amongst themselves. Most of the time, they never even noticed when the white-robed assassin joined their step and used such a guise to avoid needless bloodshed. Guards knew all too well who he was if they focused well enough on his body language, and they were apt to attack him on sight. He may have been an assassin, but killing in the streets was just messy and careless.

Always have an escape route planned. Bodies in the streets block the path.

For a while after he split from his pale-robed escorts, Altair wandered around the emptying city in search of someone with the perceptive profession of thievery. They were very easy to spot for an assassin who had been tracking them down for most of his life. Thieves were like little pockets of information jumping from alley to alley, constantly out of the law's reach. But assassins knew how to find them. They relied on the thieves to find targets, dates, locations, etc. In this case, Altair was looking for a doctor.

He strolled cautiously through the seedier sides of Damascus, his eyes darting from shadow to shadow in search of a prowling helper. Even if he had been in a calm field with bunnies nibbling on flowers, he would have looked the same. It was that haunted overcast that drooled over his irises. It made his whole body tense, never allowing him peace to walk with his spine relaxed or his shoulders loose. It was his constant guardian, his awareness, and as far as he was concerned, it was what kept him alive.

And yet, it had been lapsing in and out of existence since the arrival of the strange girl. So much had been thrown at Altair at once that his sterile watchdog had abandoned him in the haze of combat, throwing him from his senses and making him careless. But his mistakes were his own, and he would be the one to deal with them. He planned to practice the balancing technique that Malik had told him about. He planned to perfect his focus and become a true master of the art.

But since when has anything gone as planned in anyone's life?

"Hey, watch where you're going, ghabi!" a distinctly female voice spat.

Altair pulled himself out of his thoughts and stared blankly at the battered woman who stood just a foot from him, her arms propped angrily on her waist. Apparently, he had run into her, but he could only vaguely remember something insignificant bumping into his chest. So much for focus.

Altair stared at the woman in interest, his hope rising. Only one type of woman roamed the alleys of Damascus at night, a streetwalker. She was no thief, but her social corners were just as colorful.

He bowed apologetically, his hood carefully falling over his eyes. "Excuse me, miss. Could you point me in the right direction of Zafar Hadad?"

A slight gasp made it all the way to his lips before he was able to smother it, for the woman had suddenly reddened in the sharp moonlight.

Her eyes blazed with emotion, glazing over as she blinked away tears. "Y-You're an assassin…"

Altair's eyes narrowed. Was this woman the sister of the messenger he had met on the road? The one whom his brother had saved?

Unlike the last time he was asked this question, he felt compelled to answer. "I might be. I was told that the doctor is caring for someone close to me."

"So you met my sister then?" she sniffed.

Altair nodded, answering the question to himself as well as hers. "Where can I find the doctor, wallad?"

There was something about the sheer stress that seeped from this woman's pores that gave his tone a hint of almost fatherly softness. It seemed that at any moment she was going to shut down and collapse, and he would be the only one there to catch her. Consciously, he began to suspect that his Brother had been injured more seriously than he had first anticipated if this woman was so shook up about it.

She looked down at the dirty Earth and wiped her eyes determinedly. "Keep going straight," she sniffed. "…down this alley and turn right at the end. Then…t-then turn right again and you should see his door."

With this, she turned and stumbled off into the night, her steps edged with drunken tenseness.

"Safety and peace," Altair whispered after her before disappearing into the shadows.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

I couldn't hold it in any longer. I had to look at it, that stupid monster that felt like it weighed a million pounds in my pocket. Zafar was fast asleep behind his tapestry and Laleh had left a little bit ago. It was my perfect chance to investigate the odd difference that I felt in my futuristic device.

I slid my hand in my pocket and felt the familiar leather case run against my skin, begging me to pick it up, unwrap my headphones, and lose myself in a stream of music like I always had in the past. But I had no headphones now, and there was no music in my thoughts. All I wanted was to go home. I wanted to see my family again. I wanted to believe that this was all just a dream.

I clutched my mechanical marvel, pulling it from my pocket and lifting the now sandy leather flap to see its illuminated screen smiling back at me. But instead of seeing my usual ipod menu, I was greeted by a blank bluish hue with a tiny grey logo in its center. The design was too small to see in detail, but it definitely had NOTHING to do with my ipod.

I nearly screamed as I slammed the case shut and stuffed it back into my pocket. That thing was not my ipod. Suspicion dried my throat as I considered what someone had done to change it. It had been tampered with, that much was embedded in my beliefs. But I couldn't just throw it into the woods and forget about it. First of all, I saw no woods. Second of all, I was the only one suitable to hold the machine. I had to hold onto it, for everyone's sake.

I don't know how long I sat there with my pocket itching against me. I wanted to pull it out again and investigate the strange symbol that lay plastered on its screen, but just before my curiosity could get the better of me, there was a harsh knocking on the door.

Naturally, I jumped. The knock was slightly casual, so there was no way this was another medical emergency. But then, who would show up at someone's house at this time of night?

I glanced nervously towards the heavy tapestry that concealed Zafar. He was fast asleep. There was no way he had heard the visitor. Then there was the man who lay unconscious on the table in front of me. Well, he was out of the question too. I was the only one who heard the knock, and a part of me began to doubt that it had happened at all, just my ears playing tricks on me…

And then there was another knock, this one more urgent than the last. I shook my head. There was definitely someone there. But what could I do? It was not my house to open to visitors…or enemies. My thoughts wandered to the lock that Zafar had in place. It had been left untouched after Laleh left. The door was unlocked, leaving me completely able to allow someone entrance into the small abode.

I winced as my curiosity took over and lifted me to my feet, which slowly carried me to the rotten door. As quietly as I could, I searched the cluttered shelves for something useful, like a dagger or wine bottle. Another knock hit the wood as I retrieved a promising needle-type-thing from behind a sinister jar. This would have to do.

Keeping my weapon concealed in one hand, I edged closer to the door and pulled it open only slightly to see who stood on the other side.