Disclaimer: Do not own Assassin's Creed or its characters. Or the Personal Altair Mailing Delivery Service. *snickers*
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Chapter 2
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Altair stalks out of the assassin's bureau with a headache.
First of all, he is behind schedule and Master is expecting him, meaning he shall have to ride twice as fast through the templar-ridden kingdom.
Second, the cryptic message which the slain target has left him with has his mind going in circles trying to decipher its true meaning.
Tamir spoke of others. Brothers, he called them, and that I'll soon come to know them well. He also knows the workings of the Assassins, and referred to Al Mualim. I best speak to my Master of this.
Finally, he was careless enough to show his face to an outsider. Granted, situations were out of his control, but the fact the girl actually saw his face and can pick him out of a crowd… the second Creed has once again been broken.
He should have killed her on the spot. It was imperative that he kills her. But he did not. Or rather he cannot. For he has enough blood of innocents staining his hands.
He gently rubs his left temple, recalling the way those alert eyes had followed him and his every movement. Undoubtedly, the girl is no fool, and fortune must smiled upon him for she did not expose him. For that he is tremendously grateful. He does not know why he has given her that feather, but can only hope he will not have to compromise the Brotherhood anymore than he has already done.
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"Jin! Hurry up with the laundry and when you are done, go buy some meat from the marketplace!" Mama Kathlum's wheezing voice drifts faintly into the open courtyard.
"Yes Ma'am…" Jin calls. All but buried in dirty laundry, the girl resumes her tiresome chore with the unforgiving sun beating at her back. Since the last two days had been devoted to attending her injured charge, it is no surprise that she is now assailed with the work which has piled up in her absence.
A muted flush rises up in her cheeks as her mind begins to dwell on the strange event of the past few weeks. The man had practically flown in from the sky, and after recovering from her shock, she had methodically attended to his extensive injuries. There were minor scratches on his arms, but it was the gash on his side that most worried her.
Her cheeks begin to redden even further as she recounts undressing him. Never has she been in such close contact with someone of the opposite gender. And the mere idea of undressing …! Thank the heavens that he was unconscious for that provocative part…although a part of her felt extreme shame at her taking advantage of his defenseless state.
But her traitorous mind had already ingrained the memory. As she took off his outer robe and inner shirt, she could not help but admire the dark planes of his chest, so solid and well defined. The many scars criss-crossing themselves across his entire body: marring the otherwise physical perfection, yet creating a definition of their own.
She then turned her attention to his hands, in which heavy, metal gauntlets were secured by straps. As she carefully released the buckles, she noted with morbid fascination, a finger missing from his left hand. A wave of nausea surged through her as her hand tentatively brushed the puckered skin. His hands were calloused and rough, but the fingers were shapely and long, not unlike those of scribes and scholars. It was tragic that such graceful hands partake in taking lives.
Even more remarkable was his face, as she had to take off his hood, one that is so unlike what she expects a murderer's face to be. A stern, but not unpleasant face. Elegantly arched eyebrows offset by high cheekbones ending in a straight chin. A full, sinfully sensual mouth paired with a refined, aquiline nose completed the vision. Jin cannot but wonder how his face can be so beautiful, so alluring considering his occupation. Such a contradiction between face and character.
With the last of the bed linens scrubbed, Jin quickly makes her way to the drying ropes with her dripping basket. One by one she hangs the white sheets on the designated rope. When she finishes, she cannot help but watch them flutter in the breeze.
Just like a certain white robe.
It has only been a few weeks since that day, and she still cannot help but remember it as a dream. She goes about her daily tasks in a trance-like manner, her hands doing the work but mind somewhere else. It dwells on those hours that she has spent watching him sleep. She looked for signs of awareness, but his body and features remained still during the days and nights. Unhindered, she allowed her eyes to bashfully travel the span of his face, and down to the length of the body. As it happened many times before, her imagination ran away with her again, and she imagined how he will react when he awaken. She could see his handsome face gradually stir, and languidly open his eyes. He would thank her for his life, and asks how to repay her.
Oh how far the actual reality was.
She had felt her breath give way as he all but attacked her, and her back made contact with the hard floor. But that was nothing compared to the unyielding body that had hers firmly pinned. She faintly registered the fact he was using his entire weight to keep her down, and she has never felt more trapped and helpless as tawny gold eyes glare down at her like a predator, her breath escaping in painful gasps.
His face was so close to hers that she saw herself in that fierce gaze. She saw her brilliant blonde hair peeking through the shifted headdress. Numbly, she realized that she did not remember the last time she saw herself in a mirror, and was strangely enraptured by the alien image she saw in his eyes.
She had been but a gangly child, her hair unkempt and cheeks hollow due to lack of proper nutrition when she arrived at Mama Kathlum's. Now her face has lengthened into a pleasant oval. Her high cheekbones are framed by soft golden curls that stop short at her chin. The only features not altered by time are her clear, emerald eyes. She recalls someone once told her people blessed with green eyes are entitled to either extremely good fortune… or bad luck. As she reviews her own predicament at that moment, it must be the latter.
"Make one move or sound and it'll be the end for you. Tell me, where is this place? And who sent you?" When he spoke, it was in an animalistic snarl. So different from the gentle voice she had imagined him with.
Her breaths were stopped short by the weight of his arm at her chest, which Jin had to admit was very painful even if she had chest bindings.
"Please… you are hurting me…" she had managed to gasp out, and took in a lungful of air as the pressure gave way and she is released from the hold. Jin smugly took in his surprised expression. Not many can see through her disguise the first time.
It had taken her months to perfect the illusion. She had "borrowed" the discarded clothing of random customers, making careful adjustments here and there, with additional chest bindings, and initiated her transformation into a male. In the following weeks, she observed from the rooftops the various mannerisms of men. The way they would walk, how they would interact with others, their hand gestures, and their posture were all copied and perfected by her. Her true test came when she donned the altered garbs and gave a flawless impersonation of a traveling merchant in front of Mama Kathlum's door. It was only when she had taken off the scarf and concealing headwear that the old spinster recognized her.
Jin giggles at memory of the older woman with her eyes bugging out in shock and mouth open so wide she might as well be a toad gathering flies. Although it did take a lot more pleading and flattery afterward to appease Mama Kathlum and to have her accept the idea of letting her walk freely outside of the house.
Of course there are limitations. She would only be running errands for her mistress such as buying supplies and groceries or delivering messages. But it is still better than being cooped up in that attic. And none of the other girls were allowed this wonderful privilege.
With the last of the sheets drying on the ropes, Jin hurries out of the courtyard and out of the brothel. She takes a minute to savor the feeling of being outside, and leisurely makes her way to the bustling marketplace.
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"Come in Altair. You've done well. Three of the nine lay dead. For this you have my thanks. But do not rest on your laurels. Your work has just begun," announces the elderly, but proudly erect leader of the Creed as Altair kneels down before him.
"Give me names and I shall give you blood." Al Mualim smirks to himself at the edge in his subordinate's words.
"So I will. Abu'l Nuquod, the wealthiest man in Damascus; Majd Addin, regent of Jersusalem; William of Montferrat, liege lord of Acre."
"What are their crimes?"
"Greed, arrogance, the slaughter of innocents. Walk amongst the people of their cities. You'll learn the secrets of their sins. Do no doubt that these men are obstacles to the peace we seek."
"Then they will die."
As the assassin walk purposely out the hollow hall of Al Mualim's office, three white doves flies out of a window, bringing messages not of peace but death.
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There seem to be more guards than usual Jin quietly notes to herself. She walks carefully down the bazaar to the local butcher whilst keeping an eye on the patrolling guards. She must avoid them at all costs. The dangers of being caught as a man, and bringing trouble to Mama Kathlum, she will be beaten or even worse…
Jin suppresses the thought with a shudder and quickly walks along. Her eyes light up upon the sight of Muhsin, the loyal butcher who she always buys her meat from.
"Jin! Allah be blessed! My favorite customer!" Muhsin's strong voice bellows out.
"Sweet water and rain to you too Muhsin," Jin cannot help but smile.
"Well how may I be of service to you today? A lamb shank? A roasted goose? Remember, everything is half priced because of the celebration."
Jin curiously asks, "What celebration?"
"The merchant king's celebration of course! The renowned Abu'l Nuquod is throwing a grand feast tonight. Because of all that, business is soaring all around town and bargains are more plentiful than sands in the desert!"
Jin's eye brows perk up at the news.
A feast? The gathering of drunken men partying will also mean more business tonight. Which means Mama Kathlum will be in a good mood…
Jin takes out the note of orders and passes it to Muhsin. As the butcher carefully weighs a piece of meat, a rabble of commotion drifts from the other side of the marketplace.
"Tsk, this is what happens when they hire more guards. Like adding more ingredients than they should, trouble boils over like a sour stew," Muhsin gestures towards the gang of guards that are harassing a poor fruit vendor.
"Ha, Muhsin leave it up to you to bring up food," Jin affectionately teases with a pointed look at Muhsin's bountiful belly, "Why are there more guards than usual?" Her eyes drift towards the raucous group warily.
"Have you not heard? There have been a series of assassinations of important men. The word around here is that one single man has been responsible for all of them. Why just three days ago Talal the slave trader was murdered."
Jin's breath hitches at the mention of that name. She closes her eyes and tries to steady her breathing.
Talal.
"Well here is your order. There is an extra set of chicken gizzard since your mistress is such a loyal customer."
"Thank you." The trembling girl barely manages to count out the correct amount of coins before leaving, forgetting to wave in parting.
Talal. The slave trader who had sold me to the brothel. Killed.
Jin sucks in a deep breath and concentrates on putting one foot in front of the other. Her mind is racing with thoughts, all getting jumbled and mixed with each other.
Many assassinations? By one man? …is it him?
Forgetting to look in front of her, a solid arm roughly collides with her right shoulder. The leather bag in her hand tumbles to the dusty ground, spilling its contents.
"Excuse me," Jin mutters as she kneels down to salvage the pieces of meat.
"Oh? What is this?" A snide voice asks from above. The youth glances up, and freezes.
"Looks like someone does not know their proper place," retorts the guard that just ran into her.
Her lips, numb with terror and shock, refuse to utter the apology. It would not have been no use anyways. The group of guards, already rankled from their fight with the fruit vendor, close in on their new prey eagerly.
"Let's teach this boy a lesson."
The men snatch her up from the ground where she was kneeling. Their hands clamp down like iron on her shoulders as the head guard stand before her.
"How rude of you to touch my arm," he lectures in a clear, loud voice so that passerbys can hear, "without a proper introduction. What is your name?"
"J-Jinan." She meets his glare with one of her own. She purposely refuses to add the respective 'sir' that all common folk uses. It really does not matter since her life is now forfeit. The guards have never been ones to show mercy, and for her there is no exception.
"A disrespectful cur! Well, I think my arm will like to make its formal introduction too."
A fist slams into Jin's stomach. Hard.
She grunts in pain. The guard's fist is already drawing back, ready for the next blow. Jin shuts her eyes and prepares herself.
It never came.
Instead, screams and yells reach her ears. Jin opens her eyes, and gasps in shock.
The guard is lying face down on the ground. With a knife protruding from his neck.
The guards that were holding her release their hold, and draw their swords. Civilians scatter wildly from the bloody scene. Running, yelling, shouting in fear.
Her alert gaze catches two glints of metal zipping through the air. Without looking, she hears the two guards at her side slump to the earth.
Dead.
A gust of wind as he leaps down, and the assassin in white appears in front of her.
Swiftly, and without a word, he seizes her arm and drags her away from the murder scene. The stunned girl barely manages to keep up with his long strides, and keeps glancing back at the bleeding bodies.
After criss-crossing and double tracking numerous streets and alleys, he makes a sharp turn into a dark corner, and flattens her into the wall with his body. His right hand covers her mouth to silence her protests, and his head turns toward the open street. Not a few seconds pass before rapid footsteps approach their hiding place, and Jin can feel his entire person still.
"Where is the scoundrel?" Angry shouts fill the air.
Jin stops struggling and tries to be quiet. Even her breaths sound like a dead giveaway as her blood pounds in her ears. Jin glances up at the assassin. He is not looking at her but at the moving shadows of the guards. She never imagined that they would meet again in such circumstances. Even if his hand was not covering her mouth, she would still be at a loss for words. Jin just stares wordlessly at the silent profile of the killer in front of her. He's so close that she can see the texture of his face, feel the even movements of his chest, and smell the slight stench of blood from his hands.
Countless minutes pass. Too slowly the shouts of the men grow dim as they move onto another section of town.
As silence finally settles in, the assassin finally turns to look at her. The golden color of his eyes swallow her up in their intensity. His hand drops from her face, but she is the first one to break eye contact.
"My debt is repaid now. A life for a life." And with that, he turns and begins to walk away.
"Wait!" she calls out desperately, trying to find words to keep him longer, "I do not even know your name…I cannot even properly thank you."
The assassin stiffens. To ask for an assassin's name is folly by itself, but to answer her, truthfully, the consequences can be much worse. The Creed drums feverishly in his head. The start of another headache.
"Call me Altair."
"Altair," her lips slowly shape the foreign name, so delicately like a caress, "Thank you for saving me."
He nods and swiftly makes his way up a nearby wall and onto a rooftop. Before he does something even more foolish.
"Does that mean I will never see you again?" Her whispered words reach him despite the distance.
Altair stops, and slowly turns his head. His eyes, like the tawny eyes of a predatory hawk, pierces through her own. Jin suddenly feels as if she is being examined from top to toe, and her inner self bared for that knowing gaze. After what seemed like an eternity, a quiet smirk appears from the brim of the white hood and he was gone.
Notes: Eh? Am I on a roll or what?
I have borrowed some lines directly from game script. Just to push things along.
Yes, I realize I have not revealed much about Jin, but in due time. Feel like the reader should discover things alongside of Altair.
Lol at my beta. She wrote "Edward Cullen status" next to the line where Jin watches Altair sleep.