Authors notes: Greetings once again, I come bearing a new chapter!
Once again, I cannot thank everyone enough who has reviewed, added this to their alerts or favourites because every little thing you do to support this story means so much to me and keeps me going even when times are tough! Extra long chapter because I started something that needed finished and finished as well as I could, you'll see what I'm talking about hopefully later in the chapter! There's also a bit of a cliffhanger in the middle, so for those of you who have a love/hate relationship with them, have your stones ready to pealt me with!
Some review replies:
Emilie - Thanks! I update as often as I can, but not as often as I'd like because I lead quite a busy life outside the fanfic world! Hope the chapter was worth the wait! xx
Sorree - No, indeed our poor Zolm doesn't know what he's in for! *evil giggle*
Edwards-girl - She does! But when is she going to tell him? *insert dramatic noise here*
Starfish - Maybe not as long as you think. Hopefully this will be another good chapter for you if you catch my meaning... ;)
Vera - Wow! I don't often leave people speechless, but thanks for your reviews! Make me smile every time xx
Jellybean - Thank you so much, your comment was such a pleasure to read. I'll always keep writing, it just might be slow sometimes. xx
Stig - Gosh, that was such an epic review. So much I'd like to reply to but I fear I'd be here all night if I tried to, but just to let you know, thank you for writing such a long review. I find it really flattering that someone would spend so long writing a review for my little story. Yes, I make quite a few mistakes, but even when I go through the text with a fine tooth comb, I still miss some! I like to respond to the reviews as both an insentive to review in the first place, and a way of letting them know what I feel about what they've said, and to let them know how much I appreciate their thoughts and opinions. I'd welcome critisim so that I could improve, but so far either no-one's been brave or you're just all very complimentary people! As for the insense/hashish I had researched it a bit before I started writing, but I decided not to give it an actual name so I didn't have to stick to any rules that I could be later called out on (e.g. If I'd said that drug X gave Zolm this reaction, I may have gotten it wrong and some learnered indivitual may have reviewed saying "Don't be stupid, drug X doesnt give that effect!") and although I hadn't thought of it at the time, giving it a name would have probably required me to upgrade the rating, so I'm glad I didn't! Thanks again for your review, and I hope to hear your thoughts on future chapters!
Hawthorn - Well I've always been known for having affections for 'unconventional' characters. And if I like a character, you can be sure someone in the story will too! Hopefully there'll be enough Dastan/Tamina in there to distract you from Zolm. Thanks for the review xx
Phew! Lots to reply to. On with the story now!
Woffles92
Chapter 11 – The Truth Will Out
Quietly lurking, Zolm was listening in on a conversation between Nizam and his advisors. Usually his employers disclosed all the necessary information to him, however, he had never taken a client at face value. He always liked to know their hidden intentions, if there were any. As an added bonus, these little ventures allowed him to test and refine the most basic of Hassansin skills, such as the art of eavesdropping.
"And what of the people?" Nizam asked.
"They fear for the future my lord," the captain of the guards replied, "A few families have already left the city. Others with thriving businesses are more reluctant, but will certainly leave if you don't instil some kind of civil order. The city has been ruled by the Princess' family for numerous generations; it's natural that there should be a little unrest in such a time as this."
"If things remain as they are, how many do you suppose will leave in the next, say, month?"
"Perhaps a fifth, maybe more, but even an exodus of that nature will affect the trade and may cause others to follow. The foundation of any great city is built on the people. Once the cornerstone is weakened, it is only a matter of time before the structure falls."
There was silence for a moment and Zom could almost hear the thrum of Nizam's mind as he thought this potential problem through.
"So they need an incentive to stay."
It was a statement, rather than a question.
"That would be one option, my lord."
"Station guards at every gate to the city," he announced, "The people are free to leave if they wish, but they must first offer me a gift."
The captain cleared his throat anxiously.
"A gift?"
"A sacrifice. Any family wishing to leave the city unharmed must offer one of their number to me."
A stunned silence reverberated around the chambers. Zolm allowed himself to raise his eyebrows, registering mild surprise at this decree. He had known Nizam to be ruthless, but had never quiet imagined him to be capable of something such as this.
"Are you sure that's wise my lord? You're meant to be gaining their respect, and I think you may want to reconsider…"
"The empire of Kosh is one of the most feared in these parts, and even those in the furthest reaches of China know of his power. He earns the respect of his people with policies that are much more corrupt and cruel."
Someone much closer to Zolm's hiding spot and out of earshot of Nizam, whispered to another, "That's because Kosh is a madman, and all his people, are cutthroats and whores."
"Not to throw a scorpion into the nest," interrupted a new and slightly scathing voice, "But what do you plan to do on a market day when hundreds of people from the outlying farms and villages enter the city? Do you expect them to offer up a family member for sacrifice every time they wish to leave?"
"That is why I employ advisors," Nizam snapped irritably, "You can develop some system for tracking those who are merely visitors, and those who are actually resident. Spread the news of this new law, I don't want ignorance to be an excuse."
"As you wish."
Then he dismissed his council. Zolm took this opportunity to slip away also. Nizam's measure became ever more disturbing and he wished for the swift approach of the day when he was released from his service so as to get as far away from this madness as possible.
The sun was streaming through the tattered and torn drapes when Dastan awoke. Although he felt considerably better than when he'd woken during the night, he could still feel the effects of the war his body had waged on itself. Heavy and stiff were the words he'd used to describe how his limbs felt.
"Good morning," Tamina said quietly, for fear that his head still hurt.
"Morning," he replied, still slight bewildered by sleep. Apart from the way his body ached, it felt as though his illness had been nothing more than a bad dream.
She sat down on the edge of the mattress and began to plait her hair into a long braid at the nape of her neck. Dastan watched in fascination at the ease with which she manipulated her hair even when she couldn't see what she was doing. When she had finished, she turned and smiled.
"How are you feeling?"
He considered his answer for a moment.
"Hungry," he decided.
She laughed.
"I don't care what the physicians say, the truest sign that a man is no longer suffering from illness is when his appetite has returned!"
Dastan chuckled, trying not to wince when the motion made his chest ache.
"Come," she offered out her hands to help him from his bed, "We'll go see what we can find to eat."
As he tried to stand, he realised just how weak his muscles has become. It took a few moments, but after some struggling he managed to get to his feet. For someone that relied so much on his strength and physical abilities this sudden lack of control of his own body scared him a little, but nevertheless he tried not to show it for Tamina's sake.
"Tamina?"
"Mm?"
Dastan cleared his throat, and more for balance than anything else, rested his hands on Tamina's waist.
"I want to thank you for staying with me. It means a lot to me that it was you by my side, even if I didn't know it at the time."
She tried to give him a disapproving look for the way he was holding her, but found that she couldn't manage one.
"I was merely doing what I knew was right," she replied noncommittally.
He let out a frustrated sigh.
"No, don't say that. Don't tell me you did it because you felt you had to. Tell me you wanted to do it, out of… something more than duty."
"No Dastan, I won't tell you that I wanted to do it," she snapped, "Because of course I didn't want to look after you. I didn't want you to be sick in the first place. I didn't want to be pacing this room for three days wondering when, or even if you were going to wake up. I didn't want…"
"Alright!" the Persian prince interrupted, grabbing Tamina by the shoulders to make her stop talking, "I'm sorry I asked. And I'm sorry you had to go through all of that, but it was beyond my control."
Unexpectedly, a smile graced her face.
"And I'd do it again if I had to," she said softly.
He paused for a moment, studying her with a curious expression.
Alarm bells began pealing in Tamina's head and she realised that this was it, the moment that everyone talked about. Right now was the perfect moment to tell him how she felt. And it was right then that she found her throat closed over and the words refused to leave her lips and she found herself unable to look at his face. She took in a deep breath to try and calm herself.
She wanted the words to be right, she wanted this to be a shared moment that they'd remember for the rest of their lives.
"Dastan… I…"
From the street outside their window, someone screamed. Dastan turned instinctively and moved towards it, forgetting his diminished strength and nearly stumbled. Tamina rushed to help him.
The window was small, and looked directly onto another house, blocking them from seeing what the commotion was. Several people were screaming now, yells and shouts, and the low unmistakable thrum of hundreds of horses hooves.
"What's happening?"
"I can't see!" he replied, frustrated.
Dastan looked for a way to get to a better vantage point. He climbed into the window frame and tried to pull himself up onto the roof above, using some of the support beams. A few days ago he could have flung himself up with ease, but now every muscle in his arms seemed to scream and it was agony even trying to support his own weight. Seeing his strain, Tamina grabbed his foot and pushed with all her might to help him ascend. After a longwinded struggle he finally rolled onto the roof.
"Do you think you can help me?" she asked from below him.
No, would have been his honest answer, but he wasn't ready to admit his shortcomings just yet. Reaching over the edge to take her hand, he subjected himself to another round of agony as he helped her clamber onto the roof. Breathing heavy, he stood up and looked towards the noise.
Clouds of dust rose in the streets as a company of horses clattered through, knocking down stalls and even people in their wake. As their plight became gradually more apparent, the noise of the people became greater. With a sickening realisation, Dastan saw the colour and markings of their armour.
"Those are Nizam's men," he panted breathlessly, "They've found us."
The smallest of noises and Zolm's eyes snapped open. Someone was in his bedchambers. To be exact, the room didn't belong to him, but even Hassansins needed rest, and with most of the royal family either in jail or having fled, these grand rooms were going to waste. Moving slowly, so as not to give himself away to the intruder, he reached for the sword which he kept beneath the pillow for just such an occasion. But to his horror, it wasn't there.
"Looking for this?"
He opened his eyes and sat up quickly. In the dark room his sensitive eyes could make out Nasreen, standing holding his sword. With a grin she tossed it into the corner of the room where it landed on a rug with a dull thud.
"There's no need for this to get violent," she giggled, "Unless of course you're into that sort of thing."
He closed his eyes for a moment, praying that this was some sort of nightmare. When he opened them, he could see that she had begun to climb onto the bed, and onto him. Disgusted he pushed her away.
"Get off," he snarled, but she came at him again, using all her wiles to try to seduce him. It was so crazy, that had he not known better, he would have sword this was some kind of twisted dream.
"You're just a child!" he protested in disgust.
She ignored his comment and pressed her body into his; making adjustments to prove that she was more of a woman that he gave her credit. It would have been a lie to say that he wasn't tempted by her. She was a beauty and it had been far too long since he'd lain with a woman. Hassansins were discouraged from making attachments as such, because they had a nasty problem of becoming a distraction, and he was especially wary of making any kind of attachment with this particular female.
With a grunt of frustration he shoved her roughly onto the ground. She made slight cry as all the wind was knocked from her body.
"I'm seventeen years old!" she protested breathlessly from the floor. He rounded on her.
"Exactly!" his eyes flashed menacingly. She was a grand total of eleven years his junior.
"If I still had a family I would have been married off years ago, probably to someone twice as old as you!"
"A husband and subsequent offspring do not qualify you as an adult," he muttered.
"Oh, and I suppose spending most of my life scraping and scrounging around in the gutter, fighting for a living, doesn't qualify me either?" Nasreen spat angrily.
"Why are you here?" he barked. As he swung his legs over the side of the bed so as to get up and make her leave no matter her answer. But she was as persistent as a fly around a sweating horse. She clambered onto the bed behind him and began to whisper seductively in his ear.
"I know what you are," she breathed.
He snapped his head around so that their faces were almost touching.
"Enlighten me," he hissed threateningly.
"You're an Hassansin."
Damn the gods, how did she know?
"Don't be stupid," he chastised, "Hassansins are just a story to scare little children like yourself."
She scoffed, "You're an even worse liar than I thought."
He looked at her with seething contempt but didn't respond.
Without warning, she made another desperate move to possess his mouth with her own. He thrust her away and stood up from the bed. She glared up at him, having been refused yet again. Then, her expression changed to one of pleading.
"Please," she begged, "I want to be like you."
"What?" he growled in angry astonishment.
"Teach me to be an Hassansin like you."
He sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. If she hadn't stolen his weapon, he would have run her through by now. At least he could humour her as a distraction while he tried to reclaim it.
"So that's what this is? You're offering me your body in the hopes that I'll train you to be some sort of mythical killer?"
She smiled a little, fixing him with her yellow eyes from under a mass of dark eyelashes.
"Is it working?"
Fighting off a fresh wave of revulsion, he eyed the sword at the other side of the room, and decided if he continued the conversation, he could probably reach it before he realised what his real intentions were.
"Even if such a thing existed, it's too late; you would have had to be trained from childhood."
She snorted a laugh, which earned her another steely glare.
"Only moments ago you called me a child. Does that mean I can be trained then?"
The look on her face was triumphant.
He closed his eyes, fighting back the urge to go at her with just his bare fists. Taking a few deep breaths, he calmed himself. He could not be allowed to be riled by this, girl. But, her claims were not without merit. He permitted himself to ponder the idea, if just for a moment. He was only thinking about it, but the words escaped his thin lips before he could catch them.
"There's never been a woman before…"
"So you are an Hassansin!" her excited cry rang out.
He whirled around and grabbed the edge of the bed to stop himself from launching at her.
"Keep. Your. Voice. Down!" he spat while the blue of his eyes seemed to crackle with fury. Although Nizam and the Hassansins had the run of the city, it was still a dangerous word to be spreading around. Their notorious reputation could create a large amount of unwanted tension. With a grunt of frustration he turned away again. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths, resenting with every one the way she made his blood boil and bubble so much that it felt as though his very skin would ignite at any moment.
He was vaguely aware of her leaving the bed, and could sense her approach.
"You know I'm capable enough," she whispered, "I would be an excellent student."
She placed her hands on the skin of his waist, embracing him from behind. His control broke and Zolm whirled around, grabbed her shoulders and slammed her into the wall. All thoughts of a weapon had vanished. He wanted to tear her apart with his bare hands.
"Stop treating this like one of your little games!" he growled. Although his voice was kept low for fear of being overheard, it was said with so much force and venom that he might as well have screamed it at her.
"You're hurting me," she winced, trying to wriggle from his grasp.
"Good!" he spat. The ice blue eyes in his head bulged, "Because that's what it is! Pain! The training will make your body feel like you've died and been dragged through the fires of hell. And that was when I was a child. You're much older; your limbs aren't as easily moulded so the pain will be worsened tenfold. On top of that, at night, the faces of all those you've killed will haunt you and if you don't go mad from the terror of it, the nightmares usually stop within a few years."
"Let go of me!" she cried, her movements turning into frantic struggles.
At that moment, he saw the look of fear flash in her amber eyes and triumph surged through his veins, fuelling his ever increasing anger.
"Let go?" he chuckled menacingly, "A moment ago you couldn't wait for me to touch you! What's with the sudden change of heart then?"
He was grinning now, in a way that made him look completely mad.
With a yell of pain, Nasreen wrenched an arm free and with all the force she could command, she connected it against the good side of his face. A sickening smack echoed around the room as Zolm reeled back, releasing her.
Although she was now free to run, she held her ground, fixing him with a look of both dread and defiance.
As the numbness and pain from the blow spread across his face, so too did the horrifying realisation that, after the initial triumph, seeing the fear in Nasreen's eyes brought him no sense of satisfaction. Ever since he'd met her, he'd been infuriated by her refusal to be submissive towards him and had yearned to see the terror in her eyes that he saw in others. But now that it was there, instead of feeling gratification, there was nothing. The angry fire had been doused, and he felt cold and empty.
"You're crazy," she spat.
He moved backwards across the room and sat down heavily on the bed. He smiled at the thought. Crazy. Was that what he was? Was the fact that he smiled at the description only further proof it was accurate?
"Perhaps," he replied, looking at her, "Now are you so sure you want to be like me?"
The dread on her face melted away, and she began to smile again.
"Defiantly."
It was crazy. They were crazy. But one thing was blindingly obvious; her talents at manipulation and stealth were wasted on picking pockets.
"Alright then," he conceded in a moment of madness, half laughing in disbelief of his own words,"We're due to leave the palace in a few days when Nizam captures the Prince and Princess that fled. When we leave, you may come as well."
With a squeal of delight, Nasreen rushed forward. It became clear that she was going to try and kiss him again, and Zolm turned his face away.
"You don't have to do that," he muttered, feeling irritated and somewhat patronised by her unnecessary affections.
"I'm only doing this because I think you may have a glimmer of potential."
She giggled, "Do you think it's in my nature to do anything I don't want to do?"
Without allowing him time to protest further, she turned his face and crushed her lips against his.
Immediately, the fire beneath his skin began to burn again. But this time it wasn't masquerading behind anger, or hatred but was showing itself for what it really was; pure, shameless and unadulterated lust. For the second time that night, he went against his better judgement and let his long suppressed and unfulfilled carnal needs take control.