CH 2
Altaïr awoke to the deafening morning bells designed to wake the dead. He sat up groggily, noticing the clean set of white robes folded neatly on the table for him. No doubt a maid set it there yesterday, and he had simply failed to notice it. He stretched, looking towards the pile of weapons on the floor. They glinted in the morning light, reflecting their deadliness. Altaïr was meticulous with them, cleaning them every night to ensure an excellent state of repair. He got up off the bed and into the fresh white assassin robes, tossing the dirty ones carelessly on the floor, and then bent down and picked up his weapons, strapping them on. He didn't need them in the fortress, but their weight was reassuring. Taking a moment to make sure everything was in the correct place, he stepped out into the busy hallway.
"Altaïr! Good morning."
He turned to see a newly initiated novice stride towards him, "And upon you as well Kadar."
"I saw you come back with a novice yesterday, how was it?"
"What novice?" Altaïr blurted, not fully awake.
Kadar went silent for a moment. "Um…the novice that I saw you come back with?"
Altaïr's haze suddenly cleared up, he coughed. "Oh…yes, him, he did a good job."
Kadar frowned at his response, but put it behind him. "I can't wait to go out on a mission."
"How is your hand?"
"It reminds me I am still alive," the novice gingerly touched his left hand, "but alas, I now have only nine fingers."
"It will heal quickly," Altaïr said, "you'll soon be wondering why you were born with ten."
Kadar smiled miserably. They made their way into the communal bathroom for a quick wash before heading off to the dining hall. Many men were already there, making the room echo with noise. As Altaïr went in he caught sight of a rather tall woman heading out through the servant door. Almira, he remembered, the slave he brought back. She'll probably lead a new life as a maid in the castle. Breakfast went plainly, the only difference being that he was interrupted before he could finish.
"Whut doo yoo wannt?" Altaïr spoke through a mouth full of eggs, looking at the young, newly recruited boy standing behind him.
"Altaïr, s-sir...t-the Master has sent for you," the boy replied, a terrified expression on his face.
"Oh…?" He swallowed, confused for a moment. Al Mualim doesn't generally request meetings this early.
"Alright, I will be there shortly. Thank you."
The boy turned and dashed out of the dining hall, running into two assassins who cursed after him. Altaïr surveyed the remaining food, before stuffing some goat cheese into a piece of flat bread. The younger men in the hall glanced at him, giggling at the fact that he was dropping cheese and bread bits as he made his way out. He stopped by the communal bathroom again, making sure he doesn't have unsightly food stuck anywhere.
Voices came from the balcony when he passed the double doors. Altaïr ignored them; Al Mualim has other businesses to tend to, of course. He ascended the stairs two at a time, striding briskly towards the space between two large bookshelves.
"Master, you sent for me?" Altaïr asked, "…Almira?"
"Good morning, Altaïr." She smiled.
"That will be all, Almira. Raja will be in the dining hall at this time of day, I assume you know where that is?"
"Yes Master, I was just there."
"Good. Seek her out, she will show you where to begin."
"I shall, thank you Master."
Almira turned to leave. She glanced at Altaïr before lowering her gaze and sidestepping around him. Her quiet footsteps quickly faded away.
"Altaïr, come forward."
"Master." He bowed.
"You do not disappoint, Tariq's empire crumbles as we speak," Al Mualim commended, "As well, Almira has told me of her story."
Altaïr raised his head, a hint of curiosity on his face.
"She wishes to give you her thanks. Tariq had many enemies; no doubt they would place their displeasure on her should they have caught her. Altaïr-…" Al Mualim paused, making the young man lean ever so slightly forward, eager for his next words.
"Instead of taking a life, you have saved one. You have done well my child." The Master finished.
Altaïr felt his chest swell with joy, he unconsciously straightened his back more.
"If I may ask, Master, what is to become of her?"
"She will stay here and work at the castle, under Raja."
Altaïr grimaced. Everyone knew of Raja's reputation, and most some of the younger assassins feared her.
"She has expressed an interest in horses when we were traveling," Altaïr continued, seeing that Al Mualim was in a good mood, "Why not move her under Ahmed?"
"Ahmed has not come to me requesting stable hands, so for now she will work for Raja. In any case, a woman's build is not suitable for such tasks." The older man leafed through a book on the large table. The table was polished and impressive, having been with the Assassins for decades.
Altaïr nodded, but seemed uneasy. Al Mualim studied his student, an amused look on his weathered face.
"You seem to care about her more than is proper, Altaïr."
Altaïr's face immediately flushed with embarrassment. He ducked his head, using his hood as a shield.
"I-my apologies, Master…I only wish to see that she is well," He stammered.
Al Mualim continued to study his pupil with a piercing gaze, until Altaïr was sure that he was glowing red. The old man then turned to face the window, a hand on his beard.
"We are done here, Altaïr. For saving the life of an innocent, I promote you to Grand Professional. Now go, rest and keep up your training. Expect another assignment from me soon."
Hearing the promotion, Altaïr's heart leaped. At last, he is of the same rank or higher than all his friends! He bowed low and left the balcony. The day was still terribly young, and many Assassin Scholars were coming into the library for their weekly meet with the Master. The Scholars were respected members of the Brotherhood who, having reached a certain age, was to stay in the fortress. Many of them trained the next generation, but some also did more menial tasks as keeping records and balancing the checkbook. Altaïr nodded to them in respect as he passed them, a spring in his steps from the good news.
Almira kept her eyes cast down and walked along the walls, careful not to knock into any of the uniformed men going away from the massive doors. She wondered if those doors ever closed; they looked so heavy as to be immovable. The large room was almost empty now, with the kitchen piling away what little leftovers there were. She heard Raja before seeing her; the woman had a loud voice for such a small stature. Al Mualim had confirmed her suspicion, that Raja was the head of the servants. She waited behind everyone else until the woman finished giving everyone their assignment.
"Raja?" Almira asked politely.
"Ah, you again," Raja didn't smile, "What is it?"
"I will be staying here from now on. I am to work at the castle."
"Oh."
Almira waited for her to continue. She didn't.
"Al Mualim said you would show me where to begin." She said.
Raja blinked, as if she didn't know how to deal with this sudden disruption of routine. She pursed her lips.
"Alright, ok, if Al Mualim says so. What skills have you?" Raja asked, whilst walking out the servant door. Almira followed her down the hallway.
"Skills…I, uh…"
Well, yes, Tariq taught her things, things Raja probably don't want to hear.
"Yes, skills!" Raja snapped, "What do you know? Sew? Cook? Clean?"
"I can learn." Almira replied, keeping her tone even. Raja was getting on her nerves.
The older woman scoffed, then turned around to study her. Almira clenched her jaws, feeling Raja's eyes scrutinizing her.
"Ugh." Raja spat, "You are quite well-fed for such times, you know."
"I wish only to help, Raja."Almira forced her voice to remain soft; something else she'd learned under Tariq.
"Fine, I give you a job that will put your build to good use."
Note: I hope this has been ok so far. I've put alot of time into this so please please review! I love reading reviews!