Altair, like most children, loves fairy tales about fantastical beasts, epic battles, and normal men who become heroes. He is almost too old for them, but he can still coax the occasional story out of one of the washerwomen, an elderly widow from the village by the name of Ni'ja. Though she would never admit it, he reminds her of her grandson, long since taken by Templar invaders.
Bloodthirsty and brash like the other boys his age but isolated from them by his unusual lineage, Altair enjoys the stories of battle the most. He is usually able to get through only one such tale until his questions become too blasphemous for the stern Ni'ja to handle and she shoos him away to return to his solitary existence once more.
She tries to inject a little more fear of Allah into this heathen with the unsettling amber eyes by telling him of the djinn, magical creatures that inhabit the pages of the Qu'ran. Altair can't quite wrap his mind around these creatures of smokeless fire, but that doesn't stop him from trying.
"If you dropped a djinn into water, would it hiss and sputter like heated steel?" he asks Ni'ja.
"How would I know these things?" she demands of him, snapping the water out of a white assassin's robe. Altair is momentarily distracted as he imagines himself wearing such a garment one day.
"I don't know," he shrugs. After a moment of deep thought, he asks, "What happens if a djinn touches me? Would it burn my skin, or would it pass deeper, through my bones?"
Ni'ja shakes her head in despair. "Ai-ya! How do such thoughts come into your head? If you see a djinn coming towards you, don't stop and think about how hot his hand is – just run!"
"Why?" Altair asks with the fearlessness that comes from innocence – or ignorance.
"It's likely up to no good!" At his blank look, she sighs. "They are one of the three sapient creations of Allah, born after the malaikah but before mankind. Like humans, they have free will, so they can choose to embrace Allah or choose to sin, as did Shaitan."
"And the malaikah?"
"They are the divine angels of Allah. They cannot sin."
"Huh. Do they have free will?"
"They have no need," she says sharply. "They follow the will of Allah, as should we all." Altair doesn't look terribly impressed, and Ni'ja murmurs a quick prayer under her breath for him.
"If I should I ever meet a djinn," he says proudly, puffing his chest out a bit, "I wouldn't run. I'd trick it into becoming my servant."
Ni'ja snaps a towel at him, expertly clipping his ear and making him yelp. "If you can't handle an old crone like me, you'll be no match for a djinn. Now be off with you, I think this towel may need to be wrung out again."
Having no desire for a matching sting on his other ear, he scampers away, still contemplating what he might do if he comes face to face with a creature of fire and malice.