This chapter was me trying to flesh out character and conversation. I tried to make it smooth but I always had to stop and take interval breaks to think about how to write it. I also had a problem with trying to figure out how in the world you tell a child about the occupation of an Assassin. Just how did Umar even tell Altair what he did. I guess since you're young, if someone tells you something, you tend to just trust their reasoning? He was born into the order so I guess it was just how he was brought up and he never questioned what he did. Also once again, I feel that it is a good idea to write past midnight. For those reading, if you see any glaring/burning/evil problems with this story please tell me. I've noticed a few times I would switch between a past and present tense and I tried to fix it where I found it.

The ride from Damascus to their current location took two days. Father had only stopped once to rest the horses at Al Nabk, leagues behind us. The other man who was with father had introduced himself to us as Halim. He had convinced father to stop and rest. At the inn, I could hear him snore behind the wooden door to his room this morning. The man whom owned the inn seemed to know father, who called the place a 'safe house' or sorts for when an Assassin would require a place to stay. Mother had gone with the other women that worked at the building to clean clothing, blankets and fix food. I had been wearing the same shalwar for too many days than I would have liked. I had been sitting in the wooden bath for what could have been forever but didn't feel long enough. The water had already started to lose its heat, lukewarm in temperature. I washed my face and hair, glad of ridding the grime that had started to layer on my skin. A new shalwar kameez was placed for me on the counter and I was glad to wear some new clothing as my older shirt was covered in dirt and sweat. Pulling the loose cloth on, I ran out of the bathing room on the second floor of the building. I spotted Zahra sitting by the window, her hands on the table in front of her. Her black shawl matched the jilbab she wore. Her complexion was fairer than it had been. How pale she was when I had first saw her in the alleyway. By her arm on the table was the gilded dagger gifted to me by Ghalib.

"Samina said she will be by the river cleaning laundry, and don't wake your father. He needs to sleep." Zahra held out a cloth in her hand with two pieces bread. "One of the women gave me some food to eat."

"Thank you," I slowly took a piece, careful not touch her hand in the process. Allah was probably already upset that I had missed prayer the two days I had been travelling – I didn't want to be more upsetting than I have already been – as mother had kept reminding us. I think she and father had another discussion about this recently. This morning after Halim told father to stop and rest, I with mother and Zahra had gone to the mosque directed by him. She made us clean our hands and feet quickly and we prayed right outside the holy house with the other women that were in the city. The building looked different from the other mosques I've seen in Damascus. Its rooftop was flat, with many towers and made of some kind of brick.

"The mosque looked funny. The one we went to today," I noted out loud as I took a bite out of the small loaf of bread. I could breathe in the fresh smell of bread, the soft textures indicating it had been made today.

"It could have been a Church converted Mosque," Zahra replied thoughtfully. She had taken her piece of bread and broke them into many pieces before eating them. "Homs was a Christian territory before the Muslims became the majority that lived here. It was called Emesa."

"Really? I remember Bakr calling it Emesa before. I think?" I liked when Bakr gave lessons on history, but only when it had involved a conquest or war. "Where did you learn that from?"

"My mother taught me," Zahra smiled slightly, making sure to keep her mouth closed when she ate. "Her family was originally from France. Her father was a general and he sometimes discussed the wars."

"Why did she come to Syria?"

"I'm not sure, I've never thought to ask." Her smile faded at the thought of her mother. I decided it was time to stop asking, realizing I was overstepping. "Er, that would explain the flat rooftop. Actually, while you had slept when we were still in the wagon, there was an old building with stained glass windows still intact." Zahra said quickly, trying to change the topic.

"Stained glass?" I pondered at the things Zahra was telling me. I hadn't really spoken to her before. Usually Asra was the one who visited her, and I usually was glad to be able to run out with my friends without Asra following.

"It's, hm…" Zahra glanced pensively at the window in the room, which had its wooden shutters open for us to view the people outside. "Imagine glass of many colors and they fit on windows and make pretty pictures."

I tried to imagine plates of glass being attached to the window In front of me one by one of multiple colors. The image kept vanishing and I had to remake the picture again and again in my head. I guess it was just too hard to picture something I've never seen before. I heard a stifled giggle my eyes quickly shifted towards Zahra. She looked at me, eyes bright. Did I make a weird face?

"What?"

"Honestly Ikram, I'm sorry," Even though Zahra had her black sleeves pulled up to cover her mouth, I could still tell she was smiling behind it. "Forget it."

"No, wait, what did I do?"

"Nothing, I promise you."

"Zahra!" now she was just getting annoying. Asra did this too, expecting me to understand something without telling me. I huffed, crossing my arms. What did I do? I don't know, but I definitely know what the scowl on my face means. The door downstairs opened and voices entered the hall. Zahra took this chance to head downstairs, leaving me sitting there. I hear footsteps once more, and I see Halim walk up the stairway's path. His white hood was not up and I could see his short black hair, the stubble on his chin, and a deep cut that extended from the edge of his right eye to his right ear – or half a right ear. It was still red, a fresh wound that was covered by a dark bloody cloth.

"That cut on your face."

"This? Oh, of course you mean this," Halim tapped the wound on the side of his face; his lively brown eyes seemed amused at his own comment. "It happened when I was eating dinner, tragic it was. I fell asleep on a knife I was holding and a part of my ear was cut clean off."

I stared at him, incredulous of the story. "W-what?" I couldn't tell if that was a joke or not.

He had a grin on his face and broke into a slight laugh. I guess everyone knows what is going on today but me. After a quick moment, Halim had his fun and pulled a chair out from under the table and sat down in front of me.

"I've heard a bit about you from your father Ikram. I didn't know he had a family."

"You work with him?"

"Well, he was in Damascus to bring you to Masyaf. I was doing my own investigations and it had led me to the city as well."

I had been looking at the wound on Halim's face for a while. He didn't seem offended by it at all. I wondered what these assassins did. It seemed simple as the name implied, they killed people. Father came home to take me to Masyaf, to be an assassin? Was he going to teach me how to fight, like a soldier that joins the army?

"You kill people." I realized the words came out of my mouth as a statement. Halim raised an eyebrow in surprise, but a smirk quickly surfaced on his lips.

"I think you will understand more when you learn of our creed. We only take a life when there is no other option. We do not harm the innocent." Halim shakes his head. "I am no teacher. The words will make more sense when you start your training."

"I'll learn how to fight?" my attention drew back to the dagger on the table, now clean of blood stains. Had Asra known how to use it, could she have saved herself? Such wishful thinking, I thought to myself as father's words came back into mind. For a quick moment, I remembered what I had said to my twin that day I had first held the dagger in my hands. I was still angry at Asra when father took us to the market because she had pushed me the day before. But holding something in my hands that father would not allow Asra to get, I felt satisfied. She didn't need a weapon, she's a girl. So I told her I would protect her. Instead, I run off without her and…my mood suddenly soured. It was her fault for leaving, she shouldn't have followed me, my mind reasoned, but it only made me feel sadder than it did to make me feel better. I look back at Halim, who was staring at me. He had been quiet, as if he could see I was in thought.

"Well as a novice, your first lessons will be in stealth." Halim pulls his hood over his head, the white cover pulling a shadow over his face as he turned his head towards the stairway.

"It seems your friend there is already practicing." Halim joked with a laugh. I follow his gaze to see Zahra partially hidden behind the door as she looked in.

"I hope I'm not intruding on your conversation." Zahra smiled, but she remained behind the door frame. "I just wanted Ikram to know we should go pray."

"Well then, you two should get going. I think an afternoon of sleep should be enough for Zaahir." Halim moves out of his chair and stands. "Although from the lack of snoring, I would assume he had awakened a while ago."

Zahra waited for me as I headed for the door and we descended downstairs.

"I feel as if I recognize that man." Zahra said quietly as we reached the bottom of the stairway.

"He's the man who brought the horse and wagon." I stated. Zahra shakes her head.

"No, I know that," a soft sigh could be heard. "Maybe my mind is playing tricks on me, but I thought I had seen him before that."

"He had business in the city, maybe you saw him while he was walking around." I saw the image of Halim and the wound on his face. "Besides, with that big bandage covering his head, I would notice him in a crowd too."

"Ikram, that isn't nice." Zahra reprimanded. But she laughed.