Note ~ Bleh, this chapter was more of a necessity...Had to take care of some loose ends. (Not in the mafia sense) Nevertheless, it was an enjoyable necessity. But I'm super excited about the next chapter and I'm gonna start it tomorrow because it's my birthday. ^.^ Lots of revelations on the horizon...And to all you people still reading this gosh darn thing, here's a toast to your good health!
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
"Good day to you," Altair greeted when we were within speaking range of our passerby Templars.
There were three of them, each with his own set of polished steel and mail, and each with his own pair of hollow eyes. They all looked of equal rank, like a trio of generals going for a stroll, only they looked more like they were on the road for business, not pleasure. The one who rode at the forefront of the group frowned with sunken cheeks as he scrutinized our rugged appearance. And yet, just as Altair had said, he assumed we were nobility from our garb.
"What is your business on this road, hadher?" he inquired, his voice rasped with a smokey suspicion.
All of the Templars seemed to have wary, sinister undertones when they spoke, just as the Assassins had their careful steadiness.
"My cousin and I have just taken our leave of Damascus," Altair provided. "We have just received news that my mother has fallen ill in Jerusalem."
I stayed silent as death. Being so close to three well-armed Templars made my skin crawl. If they noticed me, there was no telling what would happen. Nevertheless, curiosity always lurked in the foreground of my thoughts, imploring me to peek beneath Altair's arm to witness what was transpiring.
"Ah, and what is your mother's name?" the Templar asked darkly.
Altair's voice remained anchored, his thick accent flooding through his every word. "Cala, as she is to me," he answered.
"Ah, yes. That is an old name, to be sure. And you say she lives in Jerusalem?"
"She does."
"Mmm." he eyeballed Altair's robe meaningfully. "What is your trade, hadher?"
"I deal in textiles."
"Textiles, eh? And where are your goods? Surely one with your prestige would not travel without his dealing, correct?"
"Under normal circumstances, I would not. But when amah is ill, I will not place coin before her."
The Templar smiled approvingly as opposed to the mockery I expected from him. "It is a good man, an honest man, who would care for his mother in such a way. It is to she that you owe your being. But how can a man's life prosper whence upon his mother's malady his trade is abandoned?"
Altair studied his twisted expression carefully, trying to come up with a proper response, I guessed. "It is not abandoned as you say. My brother stays in Damascus to overlook our affairs while I make this journey."
"Ah, and why does your own flesh and blood remain behind whilst your cousin accompanies you, good sir?"
I very nearly spat in the Templar's face. How many questions did he need to ask until he would be satisfied? It was like he was testing to see if killing us would prove worthwhile enough to share the story with his accomplices.
"Simple," Altair began flatly. "My brother is more experienced with the thread."
The ugly man slid into a low, growled chuckle. "Shrewd you are to manipulate the circumstance in your favor. I applaud your success. May your dear mother be granted a swift recovery."
"And may your travels be well," Altair countered.
And just as everything was going perfectly, I happened to poke my retched head a little too far out into sight.
"Ah, and who is this?" The Templar questioned, his interest returning.
Altair fidgeted on the saddle so as to conceal me more completely. "She is my consort."
"Hmm…So she is not for sale, then?"
All three of the Templars sprung into a glut of laughs. It was like the sound of a crashing train, as far as I was concerned. How dare they think of me as a slave?
"No," Altair nearly snarled. He was working hard to keep his voice level now.
"Be wary, friend, as it is through women that the devil weaves his darkest webs. It is wise to treat them as nothing more than their base understandings allow."
One more word and I was going to leap from the horse and claw at them until their flesh lay in a sorry pile in the sand. I couldn't stay quiet much longer.
"It is the truth you speak," Altair managed to grind from his lips. "You are a wise man, indeed."
"So I have been told," the Templar agreed. "You may continue on with your travels. We have much business to attend to, as well."
"I thank you."
The three abominations snapped their reins and headed off towards Damascus, their heads held high in the gritted heat. Almost immediately after, Altair and Faruq continued in the opposite direction.
"Thank you, Shabah," Altair said suddenly.
It took me a few seconds to process what he had said. I'd been contemplating all of the ways I could have broken those Templars' necks since they left. My ears were clogged with their imaginary screams and pleads for their lives.
"Huh? Thank you for what?" I finally managed to respond.
"For remaining silent."
Had I not been so distracted by the Templars' vomitous behavior, I probably would have been annoyed by this. "Yeah…"
"Is something the matter?" Faruq questioned, giving me a curious look.
I stared back at him and tried to shake myself from my gruesome fantasies. "N-no. I'm fine. I just..."
"I'm sorry you had to hear that," Altair interrupted.
"I'm just not used to it."
"I was hoping to avoid that subject. The Templars view women as agents for the devil and tools for his deception. It is strictly forbidden for one to be taken as a wife or consort."
"Well, you handled it well enough," I commented, desperate to change the subject.
"Only a little longer now," Faruq announced, indicating the slowly enlarging village that lay in the valley below.
I sighed in relief, and if my stomach could sing, it would have. 'Only a little longer now' echoed in my head as I leaned back into Altair's shadow and shied away from the heaving sunlight. I was suddenly very grateful to him for insisting that I wear a veil.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
"So you say you deal in textiles?"
"Yes," Altair replied to a scrawny stable master. "We can compensate you handsomely."
"I must speak with my wife."
"As you wish."
Altair watched as the minuscule man disappeared behind the worn stable and into his adobe home.
"Where's he going?" Sarah asked.
Altair turned to face her and Faruq, who were puttering around in the sand trying to avoid the relentless heat. "He is speaking with his wife. I'm fairly sure he will let us stay here."
"Most likely," Faruq agreed. "It was wise of you to bring so much coin, Brother."
"The rafiq had a surprising amount on him."
Faruq laughed shortly. "That does not surprise me. He has always been quite the pickpocket."
"So I hear at Masyaf."
"No sign of any Templars so far," Sarah announced, staring out into the quiet village square.
The town itself contained one major well, which was the hot spot of social and political communication. It had taken a little under an hour to reach the village, and as Sarah said, there were no Templars in sight. There were only basket weavers and potters wandering the paths, along with the occasional group of children or aged men. As for the stable master Altair was attempting to negotiate with, he seemed apt to take the troupe's coin in return for temporary lodgings and food.
"Don't let your guard down," Altair cautioned. "We may not be the only ones in disguise."
"Leave it to you to ruin the peace of a Templar-less moment," Sarah murmured.
Just as Altair was about to retort, the twiggy man emerged from his home and approached the Assassin with eager eyes. He cleared his throat with strained effort.
"We don't have enough room in the house for all of you, but there is plenty of hay in the stable," he stated, seemingly hopeful that this would not deter his 'customers'.
"Very well," Altair nodded. "Shabah, you will sleep in the house. Faruq and I will stay with the horses."
Sarah stared at Altair in disbelief. "But, I'll be okay in the stable if one of you wants to sleep on a real bed. I'm not the one who's injured, remember?"
The Assassin ignored her request and focused his attention back on the stable master. "We have been riding for quite a while and would greatly appreciate some food if you have any to spare."
"Of course," he smiled assuringly and held out his dirty palm for his promised payment.
Altair stared at him for a moment before dropping a pile of filthy coins in his open hand. They jingled and clanked as the stable master clamped them in his pocket and nodded.
"I will get my wife to prepare something for you."
With this, he wandered back into his tiny home and left the three travelers standing outside of the odorous stable. Altair immediately set to work hitching the horses inside and laying out suitable lumps of hay for his and Faruq's bedding.
"You sure you don't want to sleep inside?" Sarah asked again, watching him fluff the bristly straw with Faruq.
Altair paused and shot her a sideways glance. "Leave it be, Shabah. Don't wander from too far away from us, either. I don't want to have to help you escape another Templar camp."
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
After maybe ten minutes, the stable master appeared around the side of the stable and beckoned us back towards his lumpy sun-warmed home. Altair and Faruq had to duck to get through the doorway, but once inside, the ceiling was rather high. There were scattered bowls and primitive tools accompanied by the simple furnishings of the place. I had never seen a home so tiny, nor so bland. Unlike the cities, these rural villages lacked the undulant colors of floor cushions and painted decanters. There were one or two rugs laid on the dusty floor that attempted to shine with dull blues and golds, but they made little impact on the small home's atmosphere.
We sat ourselves at a similarly quaint table in the room's center and indulged in the delightful scent of food. At this point, it did not matter what it was, as long as it was some sort of edible substance.
"Here you are," a calloused throat offered.
I followed the voice to a stout, short haired woman of around thirty or so. Her brow looked as though it was permanently furrowed and her lips constantly tugged to the floor by a hungry frown. Still, the food she was presently laying out before us was a ray of sunshine in our eyes. It smelled of tangy spices and some kind of cooked meat, but it was one I was unfamiliar with.
"Ah, that looks delicious. Thank you, sai'd a'dri," Altair declared warmly.
She nodded quickly and left the room to join her husband at the village well.
"Why did she leave?" I asked before anyone could dig in.
"There is a village meeting at the well," Altair answered shortly.
"Meeting about what?"
"I don't know. It may have something to do with the Templars we saw on the road."
"Shall we?" Faruq smiled, reaching for the platter of food that lay at our noses.
"What is it?" I questioned, eyeing it quizzically.
Truthfully, I didn't really give a darn as long as it was food, but my curiosity begged me to learn more about our mystery meal before we ate.
"Chicken," Altair said simply.
I stared at him in disbelief. There was no way that was chicken. It smelled more like fish…or maybe beef. Anything but chicken, really.
"Umm…Is it-"
"Does is really matter, Shabah?" he broke in, annoyed. "You've been begging for food for hours. Don't tell me you're going to turn this down."
"Of course not! I was just curious…"
~.~.~.~.~
"So she finally gets some real food, eh?"
"If only we were so lucky."
"Yeah, but it could be worse."
"I suppose."
"Altair's been acting a little strange, don't you think?"
"How so?"
"I don't really know how to describe it just because it seems so out of place…Can I take a look at the logs?"
"Yeah, sure. Let me know if you find anything out of the ordinary."
~.~.~.~.~
I leaned back in my chair happily. For the first time since whenever it was I had appeared here, my stomach was in a state of total and absolute bliss. I stared at the empty plate of 'chicken' that we had devoured in a matter of minutes between the three of us. Faruq had eaten the most, but then again, he was the bulkiest of all of us.
But now that my stomach was satisfied, my sense of adventure started to kick in, begging me to wander around this village and snoop into interesting corners. I still felt the same renewal that I had experienced when I woke up this morning. Maybe it was because the sun shone so brightly…or because I was finally out of Damascus. In any case, I felt slightly more at ease than I had a few days ago.
"Can we take a walk?" I asked suddenly, putting on my best pleading face.
Altair glanced over at me and frowned. "A walk?"
"Yeah," I smiled. "I would like to relax for once, but you said I couldn't go alone. So…"
"I will go with you," Faruq volunteered, brushing a tousle of curls from his eyes.
"Alright, then," Altair said blankly. "I'll walk among the villagers to see if there really may be Templars here. You must be back at the stable by nightfall."
"Sounds good," I agreed, scooting out of my chair.
Finally, I would be able to walk without fear of pursuit or being jailed or kidnapped. So what if we hadn't got anywhere closer to finding me a way home? We all needed a break.
Faruq and I strolled out into the sunlight that struck the town square, joining the edge of the crowd of people who dallied there. There was a chorus of mumbling centered around an old, crippled woman who held a withered staff in her only hand. She stood airily among the villagers and gazed at them through impassive eyes.
"What do you think is going on?" Faruq asked, observing the scene with interest.
"I don't know…Maybe she's a witch or something."
Faruq shot me an odd look. "She's too calm to be a witch, Shabah."
"Too calm?"
"Yes. All of the witches I've seen were clawing to walls and screeching about their lost gods. That woman seems rather docile."
"You've seen many then?"
"Many what?"
"Witches."
"…Not an incredible amount. We encountered several in Acre when Sibrand had power over the ports. They were mostly the wives of merchants whose ships were commandeered and trades ruined."
"What happened to them?" I questioned, noting a hint of reluctance in his voice.
"They were…mad. They would roam the streets and cry out prophecies, sometimes even attack other citizens. Perhaps it was because their husbands took their losses out on them and drove them to act in such a way."
"So what happened?" I asked again. He was avoiding the question.
"We…we eased their suffering, or so Al Mualim claimed it to be."
"Eased?"
Faruq gazed at me with an intense regret, like he was about to tell me about his drunken car accident from which he was the only survivor. "We killed them, Shabah."
The mumbles around us bubbled to a loud zenith as the estranged woman began to call out, stamping her cane in the sand.
"Wa'sou wuf'a fahta sani al hika la det h'lou couri e'tana!" she announced above the crowd's low noise. Her voice crackled with the scars of speaking.
There it was again; the Arabic. I fidgeted with my robe awkwardly and looked to Faruq, who was listening intently. What had she said?
"Faruq?"
"Le Shabah halen," he whispered, holding up a hand.
The small mass of villagers discussed whatever the woman had mentioned amongst themselves, their voices fluctuating with excitement. Faruq kept his gaze locked on the crumpled woman as she observed her listeners.
"She is no witch," he finally said.
I exhaled happily. Unless I suddenly understood Arabic, he was speaking English again, but I was not sure how long it would last. "What is she, then?"
"An Assassin."
I don't know how long I stood there staring at him like he was crazy, my jaw hanging a little in the non-existent breeze. "W-what?"
Faruq took hold of my arm with the utmost tenderness and led me away from the crowd, starting us along a narrow path of homes.
"It's a long story, Shabah."
"We've got all the time in the world," I lied.
We had no time at all, constantly pulling hours upon hours from invisible deposits of debt. Our time was false. It was empty, and the longer and longer it stretched, the farther I became from my home.
"That woman was once Al Mualim's consort," Faruq blurted out, his voice slightly hushed.
Before his words had time to register in my thoughts, he continued.
"She was accused of betraying the Creed, betraying her companion. The Grand Master had her left arm removed so as to prevent her commitment to any man. As he had seen, she would only break it. He did not believe in killing women, so he exiled her from Masyaf and stripped her of any social status she may have held."
"But…" I stammered, stunned by this sudden outburst of Al Mualim's past. "What did she do?"
Faruq smiled humorously. "Nothing. The real traitor was the Assassin who accused her. He convinced the Grand Master that she was leaking information to the Templars and using Al Mualim as her source."
"What?" I gasped. "What happened when they found out?"
"The Grand Master killed the traitor himself, but did not accept the girl back into the Assassins' care." He looked down at his boots doubtfully. "I had heard rumors but I didn't think…"
"Didn't think what?"
"She wears our seal around her neck and she preaches to these people about rebelling against the Templars…"
"That's what she was talking about?"
"Yes, Shabah. Didn't you hear her?" He turned to pass me a puzzled gaze.
"Uhh…No, I guess I couldn't hear her over the villagers…"
How was I to tell him I couldn't understand Arabic? I was fairly certain we weren't actually supposed to be speaking English…
"Well, it seems that she is an Assassin in her own spirit. She is helping the people who we cannot reach so easily. How strange that we should happen upon her like this," he mused.
"How do you know it's her?" I asked, curious. If he had only ever heard of her in rumor, then how could he be certain it was the same woman?
"I've heard her voice before…"
"Really?"
"When I was very young…She would speak to the Assassins in the training circle at the end of each week. She told stories about brave men and fearful men. It was her words that remind me of the personalities of my targets."
"Do you…want to talk to her?" I finally asked.
"No, Shabah. We have more important things to worry about."
So Al Mualim had a love life, a companion who was like a mother to the little Assassin whelps. I stared at him, trying to imagine what he looked like with Altair and Malik in the training circle, listening intently about the predictions of certain breeds of men. I couldn't help but think back to my own mother. Maybe she had been spared the days of my absence. Maybe, by some miracle, time had stopped on my end. Maybe…
"Anyway," Faruq continued. "We'd better find Altair and tell him that those Templar's we saw on the road were coming from this town."
"Did she say that?"
"In a way, yes."
"So more may be on their way?"
He nodded in affirmation. "It's possible, which means we will probably leave here during the night. If they see that woman, they're bound to search for Assassins."
"We won't even stay until the morning?" I pressed, feeling sick to my stomach.
"I don't know. We'll have to discuss it with Altair."
"Well, I'm glad we could have this pleasant walk, Faruq," I sneered. "It seems like everything we do gets quashed by Templars…"
"Just a benefit of traveling with Assassins, Shabah."