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Chapter 6
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His Master had always stressed the importance of patience. It is a virtue that all great, wise men possess, Al Mualim had told him.
Then again, his Master's dead.
Altair flings the girl to the bed. His irritation is evident all over his face.
"What is the meaning of this?" he demands of her as he looms above her by the cot.
Jin watches him mutely. Refusing to answer.
"I have not seen you for several months, and then first thing you do when you see me is to attack me?"
"You have brought it all onto yourself!" She does not care that her voice is rising beyond acceptable volumes. The Rafiq can probably hear them anyways. "You have left me here, all alone! With no word of where you will be or when you will come back. This is a prison too, no better than the brothel. They watch me eat, sleep, and for all I know, when I shit! How dare you promise me better things when all you did was to abandon me at the first chance?"
He grits his teeth. Patience.
"I never promised you anything. Nor am I responsible for what happens to you."
"Camel dung!," she spits out, "Then why did you rescue me from the fire? Why rescue me from the guards? Why do you begin these things and then leave me worse than I was before?"
He whips around and pushes her down into the bed. His face is steel cold as he rasps out, "What would you have me do then? Bring you along to bear witness to the murders I have committed? To watch as I stain my blade with the blood of my own teacher?"
His pain is evident to her. She can see the anguish and the regret lingering on his face. But pride will not let her back down.
"So what? Is that not what you do? Kill people? I already accepted it!" Jin hisses back with equal ferocity, "Have you?"
Altair closes his eyes.
Al Mualim continues to haunt him. And his words surface even now.
"Who you are and what you do are entwined too tight together."
Altair ibn La-Ahad defines the word 'assassin'. He is a killer and will always be.
He should have accepted it long ago. Maybe the day he received his hidden blade and lost his ring finger. Or even earlier. When he swore his allegiance to the Brotherhood and his Master.
But he did not.
She sees the opening, and wanting retribution for the earlier humiliation in the corridor, Jin continues, "Why should I not watch? I have seen much ugliness of reality and swallowed it. Have you seen a young girl ripped from her parent's embrace to be made into a prostitute all for want of a few coins? Have you heard the cries of the women in the night as men brutally force themselves upon them? Have you cleaned up after each customer? Subjected to see and smell the residue of their rutting on the sheets?" She pauses for breath. "Where is your brand of justice now?"
His eyes snap open. He does not want to hear more.
Before she can open her mouth to speak again, he crushes her lips with his. So hard that he is sure it will bruise.
Silence.
It is what he wants.
Jin is still and unmoving. She is neither accepting or denying him.
Never has he wanted to kill and fuck a female so badly. Maybe he can do both.
His sick thoughts catch up to him quickly. As swiftly as he started, he pulls away.
Tawny amber scours her face for a reaction.
Surprise. Disbelief. And just a tinge of fear.
Altair sighs. He rolls off of her, and stares up at the ceiling. All the rage is gone, and in its place sorrow emerges.
His voice, when he does gather the will to speak, is full of repentance. "I did not bring you along because Damascus is the safest place for you right now. To tell you any more than you need to know is just foolish. The less you know, the better."
His rough kiss is still burning on her tender lips. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. That was not a gesture of affection. Not even close.
No, it was a sign of dominance. And she despised it.
Although she wants to, she cannot hate him.
He is speaking, but she cannot hear the words. She only hears the grief in his voice.
"You mourn for your Master," she softly says. It is not a question, but he answers it anyways.
"He took me in when I had no one. He was family, friend and mentor. He gave me my name, fed me, and trained me. He bestowed me with life."
"No, only Allah can do that. You chose your life. You chose to become an assassin. You chose."
"And I chose to kill him. The one person who gave me a clear purpose," he answers in a muffled voice.
Jin props herself up on her elbows. She turns to look at him.
Altair's face is covered with his right hand so she cannot see his expression. But the slight trembling in his shoulders, and the imperceptible hitches in his breathing tell her all she needs to know. Even though there are no tears coming out of his eyes, she is certain.
He is crying.
She knows he is crying for more reasons than for his Master.
This is a lifetime of regrets that he is shedding. Because he cannot obtain happiness if he still has them. Because they make him a sinner. Because they hold him back from what he needs to become.
Jin does not understand why he leaves himself so vulnerable in front of her. When she does look back to this incident she might have drawn the right conclusions. But what troubles her at that moment is her own turmoil.
Shock from seeing him so suddenly. Nursing such hatred for him but then losing it in an instant. To feel that rough handling of his, and that violent kiss.
Just as she did to him, he also pushed her to her limits.
Her energy all but gone, Jin gently rests her forehead on his shoulder. She lets her tears fall and dampen his robe. She tells herself that she is not crying.
Only shedding the tears he cannot.
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Jin awakens by herself.
Her dry, scratchy eyes and throbbing mouth reminds her of last night's events. She searches the room for his presence. She is disappointed; however, because there is no evidence that another person had spent the night here. He is a careful person after all.
So he left again. How typical.
She dresses and washes her face like she normally does. Her morning routine is a comfort, and she readies herself for another day.
She walks into the office, and assures herself to act normal. Like a regular day. Upon finding an empty office, Jin heads into the conservatory where she senses a presence.
"Good morning Rafiq," she cheerfully announces as she enters.
"Same to you."
Jin stops and takes a double look. The voice does not belong to the Rafiq.
Reclining on the floor rug with a plate of food within arm's reach, Altair gives her a cursory glance and then goes back to eating.
Her mouth is open, she realizes dumbly, and she shuts it with a clamp. She cannot find the right muscles to move so she stands there. Looking at the man eating his breakfast so peacefully and ignoring her as if nothing transgressed last night.
"Jin, your breakfast is ready. It should be there in the room," Rafiq's voice drifts from the room that serves as his store.
Jin eyes the sole plate of food and then glances at Altair.
He smirks in reply, and gestures for her to sit down next to him.
"Do not assume that I have completely forgiven you," she warns him as she sits down and begins to ruthlessly tear into a loaf of bread. He inclines his head silently.
"Or that I will let you leave without a word again." He nods again.
He is staring off into space and while slowly chewing a piece of dried fruit. She shrugs, and goes back to eating. Only when she is finished does he speak.
"Have you been useful in your time here?" he asks quietly.
Jin hesitates for a bit. She is only guessing at what he meant by that question. But she answers truthfully.
"I have restored the majority of my medical supplies. I am currently working on a new project. A kind in which I have no experience in."
He seems interested. Jin continues, "I am mixing a batch of poison from oleander and rhubarb leaves. Oleander can be dried and still maintain its toxicity, while the rhubarb leaves can be cooked with liquid to increase the side effects."
Altair regards her carefully. "And what gave you the idea to start mixing poisons?"
"To poison the Rafiq of course, and anyone else that will stand in the way of my freedom," Jin answers candidly, "It will probably just give him an extreme form of vomiting and diarrhea, but it should allow me to escape."
His mouth forms a line of disapproval, but the laughter in his eyes suggest otherwise.
"I see you are serious in forging your own path. Allowing you to stay here any longer will be a risky endeavor for the poor Rafiq. Let us make a deal then," he extends his right hand towards her and offers, "I will bring you along on my trip to Jerusalem, and in return, you shall offer all of your knowledge and assistance whenever possible."
Jin looks at him suspiciously. The offer is too good to be true. This has to be a trap.
As if reading her mind, Altair adds, "I can see you have been spending your time well. And that you will be useful to me. That, and I need to make sure you do not ever speak of last night to anyone. Understand?"
She takes his hand then. Shakes his hand firmly and announces, "Deal."
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They arrive inside the Holy Land dusty and travel-weary.
Altair immediately heads towards the Assassin's Bureau situated within Jerusalem, and he introduces her as a woman to the Rafiq. However, he has arranged for them to have separate rooms, and Jin can only guess at what he told the Bureau leader.
He assigns her the task of exploring the city and collecting information on Saladin's men. Useful or not, he listens to her reports every evening while they break bread together. After a quiet meal, he usually leaves her by herself and goes to consult with the Rafiq and other Brothers.
Jin decides that Jerusalem is a wondrous city. A pleasant change from the lazy, sunny vermilion of Damascus. The buildings are majestic, and its people are diverse. She can wander the entire day away and not see the same scenery, or the same people twice. Her task is an enjoyable one, if not for the fact that eyes are watching at every moment.
She knows it is not Altair, but Brothers sent to keep her safe. But the illusion of freedom is once again, vanishing before her.
The young girl had wanted to protest to Altair, but before she could, an incident made her grateful for her invisible bodyguards.
She had seen a child filch an apple from a merchant's stand. A ruthless soldier caught the boy and was about to cut off the child's hand in punishment when she stepped in. She had offered to pay for the apple, but the guard only sneered at her. He named a ridiculously high price for the urchin's freedom, and she protested.
What followed was only recalled in snatches.
He must have hit her hard. And she must have fallen on her head for she cannot recall exactly what happened.
Only that when she opened her eyes the street was empty and the guard laid dead before her. A dagger protruded from his heart, and the corpse was bathed in pool of blood. His eyes were rolled back and his released bowels emitted a strong stench.
A Brother in disguise offered her a hand, which she took. He led her back to the Bureau, and the episode was never mentioned again.
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The hanging lamp casts an eerie glow over the numerous maps and battle plans strewn over the table. Tactics, formations, and locations of supply lines all eventually blur together in a jumble of words and ink.
The man called Saladin ad-Din Ayyub massages the bridge of his nose tiredly.
This war is more than taking its toll on his mental abilities, its demands are also grueling on his body. He can only hope that his opponent, Richard The Lionheart is also suffering from this damn Crusade of his.
Then maybe the arrogant head of his can finally see the futility of this war. Hundreds of their soldiers perished at Arsuf, and now hundreds more will die for possession of Jerusalem.
The stern military leader was returning his attention back to the papers in front of him when a scuffling of feet near his tent entrance alerts him to another man's presence.
He sighs wearily and does not look up from the maps. "What matter brings you here at this hour?"
"I come to offer another solution to this war."
Saladin stiffens. This is not one of his soldiers or servants.
He lifts his head and sees a man clothed in the white robes of scholarly monks. The heavy metal gauntlets, array of weapons strapped onto his figure, and that blood red sash tell the commander that this is no regular academic.
"Assassin," he sneers. He has lost many loyal subjects to their faction, and there definitely is no love lost between them.
In spite of that, the military leader does not unsheathe his sword, or make an effort to defend himself.
"I suppose if you wanted to kill me I would already be dead."
The assassin nods his head.
Oh, an arrogant fellow.
Saladin grimaces. "Tell me why I should not summon my guards and have you arrested."
"Because I have a plan to disengage the army besieging Jerusalem within a week. That, and your guards are," he pauses emphatically, "indisposed at the moment."
"Speak then."
"I realize the fruitlessness of assassinating King Richard. His army will just destroy and pillage without restrain. However, there are ways I can render him unable to command. With their leader incapable of commanding the armies, his men will no doubt lose their morale and retreat. All you would have to do is destroy their supply lines to hasten their departure. All on one condition."
The man's eyebrow lifts in curiosity. "And that is?"
"To give me your word that you will not attack them while they are vulnerable. To do so will only give them an excuse to retaliate. And I will not help you then."
"You insult my honor as a Muslim and a commander. I will never assault a defenseless army. But tell me, how do you plan to accomplish this?"
The cold smile the stranger gives him chills Saladin to the bone.
"We will see," he answers cryptically as he exits into the velvet, dark night.
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He finds her one night tending her wounds. With all those baggy clothing she covers herself with, there was no way he could have seen those bandages in broad daylight. The room is surprisingly dark, with no candles shedding friendly glows. The only source of light she has to work with is the faint gleam from the moon. But the girl moves in such a smooth and practiced manner that he is sure this is not the first time.
So concentrated she is in her task, she does not notice him until his hand gently touches her exposed shoulder. Jin jumps at his touch and almost yelps out loud.
"Peace."
"You scared me!"
His finger goes over his mouth in a request for silence. The Rafiq might be asleep but, like all Brothers, he sleeps light. Jin pauses and lowers her voice a few decibels.
"Do you never tire of sneaking up on me?"
"Never mind that. What has happened to you?"
The girl shrugs nonchalantly. "The same thing that always happens when soldiers are in ill temper. Lucky for me your friends are always following me."
The sarcasm in her voice is evident, but Altair ignores it. Instead, he scans her condition critically.
Her scarf has been taken off, and one pale, slender arm pokes out from her tunic. He can see the purpling bruises where blows have been dealt on her pale skin.
Her scantily clad state finally dawns upon Jin, and her face flushes deeply. Hastily, she pulls the shirt up and turns away.
"This is highly inappropriate."
The man scoffs impatiently. With a smooth motion, he approach her from right side and turns her back towards him.
"You lived in a brothel, and walk the streets impersonating a man. I daresay you are the model of decorum and appropriate behavior," Altair reproaches as he pulls down the shirt, exposing the entire shoulder as well as her back.
Jin closes her eyes at his sharp intake of breath. She does not need to turn around to see the stricken face, the pity that will emit from his eyes.
"What is this?" Altair hisses violently.
Puckered, disfigured skin, with discoloration that contrasts painfully against her naturally pale skin meets his eyes. He cannot tear his gaze from the canvas of destruction that spans from the right side of her neck to her lower back. During his travels, the Master Assassin has seen many scars and injuries. Men with missing limbs, women with sores covering their faces, and children with deformed bodies. But nothing quite like this.
"It happened when I was small. There was a fire in one of Talal's warehouses. A beam from the burning ceiling fell on my back… and resulted in this."
"Burns do not bring about this kind of scar," he snarls darkly. True, the scars and puckering is too widespread to be caused by a single beam. And there are scars criss-crossing each other in a methodical fashion. Altair gingerly brush his fingertips along her back, tracing the paths of suffering. Jin tenses at his touch, but does not shy away. His fingers are warm, and he is uncharacteristically gentle.
She mumbles under her breath. "Talal is not one to show mercy to the weak. He was not willing to waste any resources on treatment. Some slaves died, and some did not. I learned to keep my cries to myself. The hard way."
"I killed him too quickly then. He should have suffered thrice as much pain," Altair snarls menacingly. His tone evokes a shiver through her body, and she quickly pulls up her shirt to cover the atrocity.
Humiliation tinges her voice and gives it a strange inflection. "This is the reason why I did not become a prostitute. It is a blessing in disguise. No man would ever consider touching this body. It would be like bedding a piece of rotting flesh," Jin laughs humorlessly at her own morbid joke. She sneaks a glance at Altair, but his expression is dark and unreadable.
After a few unbearable minutes, he places his hand on her shoulder and says in a grave voice, "Jinan, a terrible wrong has been done upon you. But do not be ashamed of your body. This is proof that against all the hardships tossed in your way, you have managed to live on to this day."
She turns her head to look at him. There is no suggestion of deception in his face. His gaze, clear and piercing as always, meets hers. She mouths a silent thank you because her throat decides at that moment to close.
Altair nods in understanding. He does not leave though, even though she waits for him to.
He reaches down to the roll of bandages, and begins to wind it around the injuries on her arm. As he finishes, he muses out loud.
"With all these medicine you have, you do not have one that will mend scars?"
"If such a medicine do exist, it is still impossible to completely heal the skin. The skin on my back is already dead and shows no sign of regenerating," Jin mutters.
"Does it… hurt?"
"Not too much. I have a cream that I apply occasionally to soften the scabs. I usually avoid direct contact though."
With a sharp pang, Altair remembers all the time he used force on her. The first time they met, when he tackled her to the floor. Or in Damascus when he slammed her into the wall in anger.
She must have been in pain. But she never once complained.
"Where is this cream? Can I see it?"
Jin, not daring to turn around when she is so exposed, tells him it is in the shelf behind him. Altair sees a well used covered jar sitting among the usual bottles. He takes it down, and approaches her.
"What are you doing?" she gasps as his hand slathers a generous amount of the cooling balm on her back and proceeds to rub it in a rhythmic motion, "I never use that much at once. The ingredients are expensive-" He interrupts her briskly.
"I can give you the money to buy more. Be quiet, it must be hard to apply the ointment on your own back," he commands.
This is definitely a breach of physical boundaries, Jin thinks and cringes inwardly. Nevertheless, she stops resisting and falls silent.
She has always thought he is a cold, aloof person who's first concern is himself. But having him here, tending to her injuries like this, she cannot help but feel her chest tighten uncomfortably. His rare kindness, his gentle touches, they make her wish for things that she cannot, should not, have.
If Altair saw her tears, he does not say anything. Once he is done, he bids her good night and leaves her in the darkness.
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The newly-appointed Rafiq of Jerusalem prides himself in being one of the most discrete man he knows. Ever since he was little, he knew how to keep secrets and to know when a situation calls for silence instead of words. He knows that as a listener and observer, he gets to learn more without revealing about himself.
So when he sees the assassin called Altair had brought an extra person to the Bureau, he says nothing. When he disclosed the fact that the petite youth is actually a woman, the Rafiq only frowned but kept his mouth shut. And when he noticed Altair entering the woman's chambers every evening and then returning to his own room, he chose to look the other way.
He only heard stories of the legendary Altair. Of his achievements at such a young age and his skill with the blade. He had also heard of his ambition for the glory of the Brotherhood.
It shocks him to see this man affiliating himself with such an unsavory woman. And for him to see her every night! The Rafiq shudders when he imagines the indecencies that must have occurred behind closed doors.
But it is not in his place to question his leader. Now that Al Mualim is dead, the one in charge should go to the next highest office. He does not doubt Altair's ability to lead, but he does worry for his health.
It is to ease a bit of his own anxiety that the young Rafiq places a package in Altair's room when the assassin is out. Where he is sure to see it later and make good use of it.
The Rafiq then congratulates himself silently and goes back to work.
A few hours passes by idly, and when he looks up again, Altair is standing in the doorway.
"Ah, come in my friend. How may I be of service?" the Rafiq asks politely.
The assassin strides into the office, and tosses the package on the table.
"What is this?"
"That is for you."
"What," Altair stresses each word carefully, "Is. This?"
The Rafiq struggles for words. He had not foreseen this. Does this man of his early twenties really do not know of contraceptives?
"Ah well… you see… you use those when you-"
Altair impatiently interrupts him. "Yes, I am well aware of what it does. But why was it in my room?"
"My apologies for taking liberties, but I had thought since you see the girl every night… that you should be careful of your health," the Rafiq mumbles and refusing to meet the piercing gaze of his superior.
Altair unleashes the full weight of his glare at him for a few more minutes. After deciding the poor man has suffered enough, he coldly replies, "I have no need for these. The girl can make her own contraceptives." Not like she needs to.
The Rafiq hurriedly takes away the offending package and utters an apology. Altair nods in acknowledgment and leaves.
He does not bother telling the Rafiq that he is completely mistaken. He only goes to her room to help her apply ointment to her back, and he never overstays his welcome.
But why have men questioning his motives? That is what led him to distrust Al Mualim in the first place.
He stops in front of Jin's room and knocks.
Jin opens the door and upon seeing him, ushers him in quietly.
They have gone past the initial stages of discomfort. She obediently sits on the edge of the bed while he retrieves the jar. He sits down and lifts the back of her tunic for her to hold in place as he begins.
His hand draws out a generous portion of the cream as he spreads it out on puckered skin. He moves in cyclic motions, willing the ointment to seep deeply into the dead tissue and somehow initiate a recovery.
Usually it is her that breaks the silence with daily reports or ramblings, but today Altair speaks first.
"I need you to make a poison for me. And the side effects have to be specific."
Curiosity as well as dread creeps into her voice. "What kind?"
"It cannot be life-threatening. It should be slow to act. About a few hours should be good. And it should be tasteless so that it can be dissolved in wine. Make it strong enough so that the victim will be bed-ridden and rendered insensible for weeks. Something close to a common disease would be helpful."
"Anything else? Maybe you would like the person to see flashes of light and crave watermelons?" Jin airily asks.
Altair bristles slightly at her jibe. His hand pauses in mid-motion and then continues.
"Jin, this is a serious matter. Lives are at stake," he admonishes her.
"But what you ask is nearly impossible!"
"I have full confidence in your abilities. That serious wound you dressed on my body has healed swiftly and did not even leave a trace of a scar."
Jin remains unconvinced. "I have only started my research on noxious plants. And I did not even get a chance to test out my last one."
Altair exhales forcefully. Every time he converses with this girl, it turns into a drawn-out debate. There is a headache looming in the near future.
"So I am to assume the three Brothers who all came down with the fever last week contracted the sickness outside of the Bureau? Even when they fell sick all at the same time?." Her stiffening shoulders are all the answer he needs. He is done applying treatment, and he lifts his hand away from her back.
"You thought your latest creation did not work. Because the Rafiq and I are still healthy. But I have been careful about which food I eat and so did he. So congratulations, your poisons do work. Now you should have no problems working on my request."
"Am I to know what it is for?" she asks, resigned.
"No." The answer is curt, brusque.
He pulls down her shirt. Gets up to leave.
At the doorway, he pauses and adds, "And you have six days to complete it."
Notes: Huh, hope we can reach a happy compromise here. Readers no doubt wanted a dirty, smutty, angry make-up sex scene. The writer here, usually does the exact opposite. But I had some physical contact going on anyways... Sides, that's next chapter. ;D (Oh what? I did not just go there...)
I notice Jin's crying alot this chapter. It must be that time of the month, it shall never happen again! At least.. not twice in a chapter. And now we know why Jin wasn't a prostitute. She was sold to Mama Kathlum solely on her abilities with medicine.
Gasp! Am I actually inserting a lil plot line here? Guess so... b/c I would love it if Altair can single-handedly change history... again. Without getting all bloody. And with a woman's help. xP
Lol Thanks for the funny and encouraging reviews. Definitely makes my day when I read them. xD
Misc: I just finished Altair Chronicles on a DS Emulator. Played it purely to see what the heck is going on with him and Adha. *spoilers* Quite disappointed I must say, their relationship (or a sad excuse of one) is not developed or even explained properly. Don't even know why he was willing to get on a ship with her after just meeting with her once. And I don't even know why she's so special to be called the Chalice. Gahhhhh