Authors Notes: Well, I'm just a little writing machine aren't I! Can't believe I've managed to churn out another one of these this week! You've all been FABULOUS reviewers! Here are the replies:

Tia: I hope this chapter will give you a glimpse of your wish!
Bell: Thanks! Cross my fingers my revision is good enough!
Sorree: But we all know Tamina to be a very complicated character ;)
Starfish: I'm afraid we wont be finding out about Tamina for a while, you'll just have to wait a little bit longer!
TashaB: Thanks! I tried to make the movie story transition seem less, so I'm flattered you noticed!
Parlour Trick: What lovely long reviews! And I don't think it's an Ace I have up my sleeve, a more modest Queen or Jack would be more likely! Nice to know you're reading xx
Gottalove and Worldnerd12: Updating now! ;P
Winged Shadow: Thanks, it's a great compliment that you think I've captured Dastan's humour! I do try! And thanks for the good luck! I spend my mornings and afternoons in the Library making notes, then come home to eat and write this! I like to keep busy! :D

Thanks again everyone! A little warning, in case you can't already see in the chapter, I've jumped back a few weeks in the plot of my story. This shouldn't throw you too much, but if there's any confusion, this is before the events of Chapter 1! Chapter 2 (And probably 3) are solely focused on Zolm, so you'll have to hold onto the Tamina cliff for a little while longer! In case anyone's interested, I had originally had this plot line well after a bit more Dastan and Tamina, but I had Zolm travelling back and forth between Nasaf and Alamut in a matter of hours, when realistically it's probably more like weeks journey! So, because I like to keep things as realistic as possible, I've jumped back a bit to make the flow of events a bit more plausible. It also means that I have a few chapters now in the bank. Chapters 4 and 5 to be exact. Chapter 3, however, is yet to be written.

Enough gibberish! Time for story! Enjoy! xx

Chapter 2 - An Hassansin Outwitted

Two weeks earlier.

The streets of Nasaf were busy, as per usual. Although the royal family were in Alamut for the wedding of their own Prince Dastan, life in the city went on without any hindrances.

Zolm stole through the crowds unnoticed, as was his particular skill. He knew that he was about to face one of the more difficult parts of his task. His destination was the Grand Temple beside the palace. However, it was not his sins, or a sudden urge to petition the gods that summoned him. His prize lay underneath the temple, in the burial chambers of the royal family.

Although there had been many witnesses of the scene to confirm that Nizam had indeed attacked his nephew with intent to kill, the great king Sharaman refused to believe his brother could be capable of such a thing. He had declared it a moment of madness, brought on by the heat, or a fever. The majority of the evidence which would have damned him lay in another time, which only Dastan could recall. So, he was given a royal burial and cremated honourably. The ashes of his body were placed in the royal vault under the temple.

The temple was ornately decorated as homage to the gods. Anyone else would have been awed by the sight of the glinting gold, and the towering domes, but not the Hassansin. He had long denounced his faith in the gods of his land and had forsaken all his once treasured responsibilities. Now his honour and glory were found in the spilling of blood and the reaping of souls.

As he entered, he slipped off his shoes, for fear of attention being drawn. He would no doubt cause a seen if he was reprimanded for desecrating the temple with soiled feet. Unseen, a voice sang without accompaniment and Zolm took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the incense that was burning. As he did the hooded face of a girl with startling amber eyes flashed in his mind. He saw thieving fingers among a whirl of people. It was so brief, that it might never have even happened. Once upon a time, these unexpected visions would have unnerved him, but after years, he was well accustomed. Unless he was in a deep trance, the flashes were incoherent gibberish, showing scenes of a future that may have been his, or equally anyone else in the whole city.

He continued into the prayer hall, which was empty, save for one or two men silently kneeling with their head's touching the floor. He knelt down in this fashion by a high window with long ornate curtains. The snake beneath his robes stirred and slipped quickly out and behind the curtain.

Zolm stayed in that attitude for some time. To a stranger he would have seemed the highest example of piety. Or perhaps they would have pronounced him asleep, which was not uncommon.

Finally, he felt the snake return to him. As he expected, it wrapped itself around his arm, and then sank its long fangs into the soft flesh of his arm. Immediately the fiery venom began to flood his veins, and he could feel it pumped from his arm, to his heart, and then to his head. After years of being bitten by snakes, whether purposefully or accidentally, his body had built up immunity to it, and he knew that he was in no danger. He rolled his startling blue eyes back into his head and was immediately transported through the temple, along its hidden corridors and passage ways, down through the floor and into the dark vault beneath their feet.

When the last person left the prayer room, he stole into one of the side passages, and following the path the snake had shown him, he made his way to the vault. Nobody hindered his path, and if they had, they would have met their death by a swift blade, or perhaps a broken neck. Killing in a holy place would have caused him no grievances.

His affiliation with the serpents, his years of training, and possibly his extensive exposure to venom meant that darkness was, also, not a problem. Although his vision was not as clear as his reptilian counterpart, he could still see well in what others would deem completely black. The room was dusty, and the lingering scent of death hung ominously in the air.

The urn was easy to spot, it was the only one not covered in an extensive layer of dust. He placed a hand on it and smiled wickedly, thinking how his onetime employer, who had been in the midst of a plot to overthrow his brother the king, had now been reduced to a clay pot filled with ash.

Taking the whole urn would have been the best way of ensuring he had enough for the ritual, but he couldn't take that chance. If a priest had come down her to pray for the souls of the departed, he would have raised an alarm. Carrying out duties undetected was the corner stone of the Hassansin guild, and he wasn't about to break his own rules. Instead, he opened a leather purse and used the lid of the urn to lift some of the ash in. Although he didn't follow any religion, he was still superstitious when it came to touching the remains of the dead.

Having got what he needed, he quickly made his leave, collecting his long and well-worn travelling boots at the entrance.

He was heading for the inn, where he'd stabled his horse and was planning on spending the night before making the journey to Alamut. It would take the better part of two weeks to reach the 'Holy' city. His arrival would be just a few days before the wedding of Dastan and Tamina, a perfect time to unleash the chaos which had been conceived by the Prince's now dead Uncle.

It had been deliciously easy to get Nizam's ashes, and he was wondering if the following instructions would prove as easy. He was revelling in his triumph when his keen senses detected the tiniest of touches inside his robe. He whirled around, grabbed the thief by the arm and bent it back to the point of breaking it. The girl let out a cry of pain. In a moment of realisation he could see her eyes, wide in surprise, were the colour of gold. At once he remembered the vision in the temple and understood it. She dropped the small leather pouch she'd taken from him and a small boy of no more than five years of age caught it before it hit the dusty street and disappeared. It took him a second too long to process what had happened and the young woman managed to wrench herself from his grasp. In the throng of people, he didn't know whether to watch for the boy or the girl. They were in cahoots no doubt, so wherever one went, the other wouldn't be far behind. He choose the girl, the boy was too small to be seen over the heads of people.

Gritting his teeth in anger, he followed her as she weaved through the people, turning down side streets and alleys. As he did, he thought with a mixture of wonder and irritation, how she had managed to get the upper hand on him. He was an Hassansin, no, the Leader of the Hassansins, and the team of a street urchin and gypsy girl had bested him. Fine, he worked better when he was seeking revenge anyway.

She kept running, glancing over her shoulder every so often to check if he was still giving chase. When she slowed, he realised that he'd evaded her gaze successfully. The smile on his lips was dripping with menace as he crept up silently onto the alley where she had secreted herself. Watching in wait, it wasn't too long before the boy appeared. He bent to the ground and the snake slipped from his sleeve and made its way down the alley.

"Give it here," he could overhear her say anxiously.

Then, a child's scream broke the quiet, telling him that the snake had done it's bidding, and he turned down the alley.

The girl jumped as his shadow suddenly turned the little passage to dark. Then, her eyes darted feverously back to the boy, who was wrestling with the snake that was coiled around his neck, awaiting further instructions before strangling. The little boy started to wail, then cough desperately as he found breathing difficulty breathing.

"Nasreen!" the little boy wailed, "Help me!

"Give it back," Zolm whispered dangerously, holding out a pale hand to the girl, "Or I'll kill the boy."

She straightened up, and returned his look with defiance. With a quick movement of her hand, she stuffed the pouch underneath her robes, in the place between her breasts. The gesture further enraged him. He stretched out his hand, in readiness to command the serpent. The boy's wails grew softer and more pathetic. He was truly terrified.

"Don't test me girl."

"Do what you like," the girl, Nasreen, said nonchalantly, placing her hands on her hips, "He's no concern of mine."

The heartlessness of her words struck him with surprise, but he didn't allow the emotion to reach his face. He moved his hand slightly, and the snake rippled as it tightened its grip in the tiniest of movements.

"This here isn't heavy enough to be coin," she continued, indicating to her bosom, "And if you want this back bad enough to kill this kid, then it must be worth more than a gold coin or two. Therefore, it's worth more to me than he is. Probably doing him a favour anyway," she added, wrinkling her nose, "The little rats all die of starvation sooner or later."

His leverage over her had vanished. It was by foul luck that she'd managed to steal the one thing of value on his person. If it had been Nizam's ashes, it would have been frustrating, but he could have returned to the Temple and stolen another lot. But, no, she'd stolen the precious incense that he used for his meditations. In weight, it was worth more per measure than gold and he wasn't in a position to purchase more. With reluctance, he inclined his head and the serpent relinquished its hold.

The boy dropped to his hands and knees and began to retch and cough. Then, he bolted out onto the city streets.

Zolm took a step towards Nasreen, who moved one back. He smirked and commanded the snake to move towards her. She took another step back.

"I can run faster than you," she boasted, "You won't get me with that little snake trick of yours."

"But I'll still find you," he answered with a voice like poison. "No-one can hide from me."

"I have a better solution," she said, "Give me coin for a meal, and a night in a good bed, and you can have you're precious… whatever, back."

"I think I'll save the money and just kill you," he offered unfeelingly. But even as he said it, he knew that he wouldn't follow through. There was something inside, underneath the loathing and irritation, something like respect, for this girl who had readily condemned an innocent child to death, and had outsmarted him, an Hassansin.

"But you won't," she smiled triumphantly.

"What makes you so sure?"

He took another step towards her and this time, she held her ground. He inched forward again.

"I know people. You for example, you kill every day. But you won't kill me."

He arched an eyebrow at her apparent arrogance, a trait that was uncommon in women of these parts. Nasreen intrigued him. He moved further forward until he was standing right in front of her. With lightening reflexes, he reached out and put his large but pale hand around her small bronzed neck, feeling the pulse of her vein throb beneath his touch. He had her now, yet she still had the insolence to smile.

"What are you trying to prove?"

He became suddenly aware of a sharpness against his skin. Glancing down he realised that she had the point of a long dagger pressed firmly against his abdomen. He wondered where she'd managed to secrete that on her person. Once again, the gypsey girl had managed to best him.
"You choke me," Nasreen whispered dangerously, "or call that damn snake and I'll push this in so hard it'll pop out the other side along with all your inners."

"I'm terrified," came his scathing reply. He tightened his grip a tiny bit, and she responded by putting more force behind the dagger until he was almost sure it would break through the cloth and skin at any moment. There was a standoff as ice blue eyes glowered at hawkish yellow.

Finally, he released his hold on her, and after a moment, she put the weapon back up the sleeve of her robe.

"Do we have a deal then?"

His lips betrayed his head, and before he had even considered it properly, he conceded.
"Alright."

He was betraying his sense of judgement and everything that he believed, but he had to know more. Besides, he could just kill her later if he felt like it.