Chapter Seven: Waiting On The World

A/N: School sucks.

Maybe it was the fact that he'd never tried talking to someone through a portal when the other person was underwater, but Keras sat back, frowning a little even as Cadderly started to adopt the kind of look most people reserved for demons and other unpleasant surprises. Still, he said plainly, "So, can I trust you to put the others on alert?"

Vivid green eyes, framed by a curved, bronzed face and hair so dark it was nearly black, narrowed at him. When she spoke, her voice was warped and garbled. "Even for Zahara's youngest son, you ask much of me. Perhaps too much. Many of these lines of contact have not been used in centuries."

"That's your own fault." Keras pointed out, his voice mild. "You and my mother and everyone else who made it possible for things to get as bad as they did. Even the boss lady, really."

Her frown became even more severe. "Do not take that tone with me. It is even more unacceptable coming from one such as you."

"Too bad," Keras said coolly. "Maybe I'm not old enough or experienced enough to stand up to you or the old lady in a fight. That's fine. It's not okay that you're willing to let things like random fireball attacks happen all over Faerûn just because you've gotten into fights with your old war buddies."

"Why does this concern me?" she asked, her voice cold.

Keras's teal eyes slid sideways and he didn't look directly at her. "Well, regardless of who's behind these attacks, he is your son."

She froze. Her hair drifted with the currents that had suddenly strengthened on her side of the transmission spell.

"So, you can hope that this fiery rain passes just like every other looming cataclysm in our history, probably maiming and killing just like the Time of Troubles did years ago," Keras said quietly, "or you can be proactive for once."

"The Time of Troubles was the result of actions taken by the gods Bane and Myrkul, not any idiocy of mortal hands," she pointed out, cautious. "The fabric of our world is weak now, in the years since Mystra's death. Could it be wild magic?"

Keras refused to back down. "We don't know if this is a sign of something worse—not even Bahamut is willing to answer, not now—but since when has it been a bad idea to be alert?"

She hesitated. "You still ask me to reopen alliances with those who stopped being allies several centuries past."

"Again," Keras said, "that's really only because you all drifted apart. There might not have been a lot holding the ten of you together in the first place, but you fought alongside each other for a long, long time. Maybe you don't owe anything to people like that, but I think you might be able to at least guilt a few of them into looking into a potential threat like this."

"…I will consider it," the woman murmured distractedly, running her fingers through her hair. "Though I make no guarantees. I cannot leave my domains for anything short of the apocalypse. I refuse to let the sahuagin claim them again. "

"I wouldn't ask you to." Keras said. "But the old woman can't find and persuade everyone on her own. My mom is already warning most of the family on my end. That's not enough, though.

"Whether Lumina even cares about this or not, I'm worried." Keras admitted. "It might be wild magic. It might be the second coming of the Tiamat. That's not the point. But we don't have enough eyes to keep track of everything.

"Hells, the Many-Starred Cloaks have more agents than we do, and they only work for Neverwinter! One city, where we have to watch the entirety of Faerûn! We have a big, fat hole in our information network and half the people we both know could be in trouble, since those fireballs seem to be targeting cities and ships we know we have allies in and on."

He took a deep breath. "Please, Lady Immersa. You're the only one who can protect everyone we both care about. Without you, they might die."

Immersa winced. "I…"

"I don't even care if you call Sinya, no matter what he's done over the years." Keras went on roughly, his voice cracking. Immersa jerked back as though struck. "Or Miakûl, or Yttress, or whoever you think can help. Hells, even knocking on Radon's door might do some good. He may see only as far as the peaks of Celestia allow, but the idea of not using all the help we can get…"

"…Everyone knows that my husband's clan controls most of the mountain ranges around the Faerûnian heartlands." She didn't seem like she was paying attention to him anymore. "…I wonder if my aunt is still living near the Sea of Fallen Stars…and there is always Fith, I suppose…"

Keras snapped his fingers and Cadderly ended the spell, as agreed.

The priest was frowning severely. "I almost feel as though being privy to your machinations will draw their wrath down on me, as well."

Keras laughed. "The trick is making it seem like it was all their idea."

"Given her reaction, it was almost as though…" Cadderly trailed off, staring. "You did that all on purpose? Throwing her off her thoughts?"

"Well, it helps to know what buttons to press." Keras agreed. "Get them to react before thinking, and then you've got them."

Cadderly sighed. "Truly, we live in dark times. That a man younger than myself would think like this…"

Keras shot him a brilliant grin. "Well, even manipulating them is really for the greater good. It's not like they'd be much use to anyone just sitting on their asses like they were." He paused. "And anyway, now she'll probably send warnings to damn near everyone in Faerûn that she actually knows, which should get the message even further since they're pretty much all huge gossips. Then, the next thing you know, it even gets back to my boss in a kind of backwards kind of way."

"Still, it is not the road I would have taken." Cadderly said. He paused. "You mentioned Sinya, and that name seemed to startle her badly. Who is she?"

"He," Keras corrected immediately, standing. "Sinya is her husband, and the bastard responsible for all of this."

"How so? You just said that you had no idea who was responsible for the fireball attacks." Cadderly pointed out.

Keras waved a hand dismissively. "Not that. He'd never use fire anyway. When I said everything was his fault, I mean that most of the personal tragedies of people I know—both good and evil people—can be traced back to him."

Cadderly blinked and waited for further elaboration, but Keras walked off without at second glance at the priest.

Altaïr was lying back in the boughs of a massive tree, staring up at unfamiliar but still beautiful stars overhead. There wasn't a single constellation he recognized. He couldn't lose himself in stargazing like he had once, long ago, not when the skies were so alien that it brought home the fact that he was so very far from home. The moon was a huge, bright circle in the sky that made it almost easy for the assassin to see all of his companions below.

Riyaz yawned, giving Altaïr an excellent view of his massive, crooked teeth and misshapen yaw. Since they had left the foggy swamps a day before, the mottled dragon hadn't said anything in any language the assassin could understand, though Oceanus would sometimes talk to him for hours. Ash would sit next to Altaïr, sensing his frustration, but still seemed to understand the conversations better than he did.

Then Riyaz abruptly swung his huge, terrible head around and looked the assassin in the eye. Altaïr found himself staring down, into dark eyes nearly the size of his fist. Almost unnoticed, Oceanus appeared from Riyaz's other side, frowning slightly.

"Altaïr, we are going to be traveling on foot starting tomorrow," the priest said, pulling his scarf from over his mouth.

Altaïr frowned as well. While flying astride a fifty-foot dragon was certainly uncomfortable at times, the assassin couldn't deny that they were making good time to wherever they were headed. Traveling on foot would probably be a severe delay. "Why?"

Oceanus gave Riyaz a significant look, white eyebrow raised and all, and the dragon tilted his head and spoke softly. "My form attracts far too much attention, and there are several groups in the Snowflake Mountains who will find it a convenient excuse to attack me. I do not want to hurt anyone here."

Altaïr said nothing, only nodded.

Oceanus sighed. "It should be fine. After all, if I remember correctly, Hokiide manages a tower in this region somewhere. We can ask if he can teleport us the rest of the way."

Riyaz merely inclined his head in acknowledgement before giving another yawn and curling into a massive, lazy loop with his head tucked along the inside edge of the end of his blunt tail. Oceanus climbed over the wall created by Riyaz's body and promptly threw himself down with their supply packs, starting to prepare their evening meal and setting up bedrolls with uncanny efficiency.

Altaïr shrugged mentally and leaned back against the tree to wait. Oceanus had dismissed his help more than once when it came to preparing food at night, even though the priest seemed to have trouble lighting campfires. Ash sat nearby, barking and nosing around happily.

Altaïr heard Riyaz speak in a hissing murmur, but didn't bother to try and interpret it. Over the past two days, the assassin had quickly come to the realization that Oceanus and Riyaz simply didn't want him to know what they were talking about. He supposed that unless he heard his own name mentioned, it was probably nothing he had to be immediately concerned about.

Altaïr and Oceanus ate in silence, with Ash devouring any scraps they tossed him. Riyaz had apparently bitten several branches off a peach tree a hundred miles back and called it a meal, or at least that was what he said when Altaïr asked him later why he didn't eat. Other than that, Altaïr was starting to notice that Oceanus ate quite a bit more than he did, though no one seemed inclined to offer any sort of explanation.

Riyaz put out the fire by stomping it flat with one huge forepaw once they were finished. As Ash curled up into a massive furry ball on top of the embers, Altaïr felt his way back to his bedroll and crawled under the heavy woolen blankets. Oceanus gave an audible yawn and collapsed onto his own bedding, pausing only to yank his boots off.

"Good night, everyone," the priest mumbled halfheartedly; he got only grumbles and grunts in response.

What seemed like an hour later, Altaïr was still awake, staring up at the unclouded sky and watching his breath form little white clouds in the air. He could hear Ash snore and kick at the ground occasionally while in the grip of some dream, and Riyaz's heavy breaths could have collapsed a sand dune if they had still been in the desert. And the stars were still just as wrong as before. Maybe it was just that, just the sheer insanity of his situation with that one slice of madness on top that made him feel so utterly homesick.

He'd spent days, weeks, and sometimes a month or two on a single mission, cutting down the Assassins' enemies all across Syria. Sometimes he would have a single companion, such as a novice on a training run, but for the most part he was alone except for his horse. But even on the road a thousand miles from home in Masyaf, he'd always know that he could go home. That somewhere, there were people who he viewed as family that he would defend with his life.

Damn everything, he even missed Abbas and his ill-timed backtalk and stubborn loyalty, and Malik and his acidic tongue and heart of gold, and, on some level, he even missed Al Mualim. And on some, slightly higher, level, Altaïr wanted to kick himself.

"Is something wrong?" Oceanus's voice asked sleepily, jerking the assassin out of his quiet contemplation of the night sky and subsequent mental rant.

Altaïr glanced over at the priest, who was rubbing his eyes and watching the assassin with eyes half-open. "It is nothing important."

Oceanus gave a sigh and said quietly, "You have not gone to sleep yet. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I doubt it." Altaïr said, half to himself. "It has nothing to do with you."

"I doubt that." Oceanus muttered. "Is it that you want to go home?"

Altaïr said nothing, though he mentally winced. For someone who was half-asleep, the priest was oddly perceptive. More so than when he was awake, in any case.

"…I know the feeling." Oceanus said after a moment. "Perhaps not in the same way, but…"

Altaïr sighed. "You have never been trapped in a world not your own, where everything is so different from what you know that you know less than the average child, and are treated like such?"

Oceanus almost flinched. "I…"

"I hate being here." Altaïr pushed on mercilessly. He was tired, mentally and physically. He needed to find something familiar, some token. He needed to find something he could use to tell himself that the entire journey so far hadn't been just a terrible dream or a dying fantasy as Robert de Sable or some other enemy cut his heart out. Almost absently, he considered pulling out the Apple just to make sure that it was real, but decided against it. "It just seems so…so strange. Like it might be some kind of terrible sorcery that I cannot overcome."

After a long moment, where all Altaïr could hear was the sound of Riyaz breathing, "I…I should not have been so cold to you." Oceanus admitted in a nearly silent whisper.

"What?" Altaïr blinked.

"I am sorry." Oceanus said, his voice tight. Altaïr blinked, looking over at the priest, who was staring up at the strange sky. "I have not been the best guide, and I know that, but…it is difficult for me to understand people sometimes. And I can be cruel without thinking. Please, the next time this comes up, just ask. I will try to explain as much about this world as I can, even if you never consider it your own."

Altaïr said nothing, just staring at the priest.

"So, do you have anything you want to know at this exact moment?" Oceanus asked, still sounding rather odd.

Altaïr thought about it for a moment, then looked up at the alien sky that had taunted him before. "I…"

"Yes?" Oceanus murmured, apparently starting to drift off again.

"What is that star?" Altaïr asked at random.

Oceanus blinked and rubbed his eyes again. "Which one?"

"The bright one."

"The King-Killer Star." Oceanus replied. "It is only visible every few centuries, if that. Even then, it is not as bright as the scrolls say it will be."

"Is it important?"

Oceanus seemed to chew his lip. "It is too unreliable to navigate by, but it forms part of an elven constellation. There was also a sort of magic effect, called the Dracorage mythal, which was tied to the appearance of that star."

"I suppose that force is incredibly dangerous." Altaïr murmured.

"It broke the backs of the dragon empires thirty thousand years ago, during the Dawn Ages." Oceanus said quietly. There was a slight undercurrent of anger in his voice. "Every time the star became brightest, the mythal drove every dragon in the entire world completely mad, which is why the elven, dwarven, and human empires even exist today."

"Even Riyaz?" Altaïr asked, eying the huge, mottled beast cautiously.

"Even him, if he's even that old." Oceanus sighed. "But I think we have a few more weeks before it happens again. And we should have gotten you home by then, so I doubt you have anything to worry about."

Altaïr doubted that, but he changed the subject anyway. "What about that one?"

"The blue one?"

"Yes."

"From what I remember hearing from djinni Keras talked to, that seems to be another world. Toril is this one, and I have no idea what you call yours, but we call that one Krynn. I wish I knew why."

Altaïr's tired mind latched onto the only familiar concept in that speech. "You have djinni too, then?"

"Mm-hm. Djinni are not exactly common, and only a few can grant wishes, but they can be interesting people to talk to. What are yours like?"

"They are powerful spirits, according to the old stories." Altaïr said after a moment. It had been a long time since he had heard any of the tales of Scheherazade that had to do with djinni, even if he had mentioned a few to Tahirah on the boat. "They were the spirits of air and wind, and would often sweep through the desert in deadly funnel clouds that could trap people and livestock and throw them for miles. There were stories of sorcerers who could capture them…"

Oceanus might have smiled. It was too dark to tell. "I imagine that the djinni never appreciated that."

"No." Altaïr felt the corners of his mouth curl up a little. "And I remember that sometimes they would kill whoever freed them out of sheer annoyance."

"Sounds like them." Oceanus remarked. "Do you have efreeti, too?"

"Fire-spirits, correct?"

"Right." Oceanus yawned. "I suppose our worlds are similar."

"But not the same," Altaïr added.

"Of course," the priest yawned again and rolled over. "Now, go to sleep."

Altaïr sighed.

The world was quiet for about a minute, disturbed only by the sounds of his companions' breathing.

"Oceanus?"

"Mm?"

"…Thank you for explaining."

"Wha'ever…"

"Also, one more thing."

"Nmuh?"

"My world is called "Earth"."

"Int'resting. Shu' up and go t' sleep."

"I think you need to clarify something for me." Oceanus said a few days later, as they started traveling through the heavily-wooded area that seemed to be called the High Forest. For his part, Altaïr had never seen so much green in his entire life, but he was past caring about it. Until he tripped over it, anyway.

"What?" Altaïr asked, trying to avoid slipping on the mossy ground. Somehow, the plant life seemed to be conspiring against him.

Blade seemed to snicker.

Oceanus was about halfway up the next hill, following Ash's lead, when he finally said, "Is there supposed to be a difference between assassins, as in Artemis Entreri, and Assassins like you?"

Altaïr wasn't quite sure if he was supposed to take offense or not. Just going from what he had seen and heard, Entreri was, frankly, a complete and total violation of almost everything that defined the Creed. The entire point of the Brotherhood, as far as Altaïr understood, was to defend the citizens of the world from the Templar attempts to subjugate every person in their path. To keep them from destroying the free will of mankind.

And he annoyed the Syrian assassin practically down to his bones.

Since Altaïr had apparently paused for slightly too long to think about it, Oceanus went on, "And the only thing that makes Entreri different than a common Calimport thug is his skill. If you talk to dedicated stealth experts, he lacks…what was it again…subtlety."

So did the Brotherhood, but no one had complained about it so far.

"The Brotherhood of Assassins was formed to keep our people safe from Templar takeover. We never kill innocents and answer only to the Grandmaster." He paused. "It has been a very long time since we began fighting."

Riyaz, bringing up the rear, murmured. "How long?"

Altaïr glanced back. "Scholars keep track of the dates. I know that it has been over a hundred years at this point, though."

Riyaz tilted his head to one side. "This business between Assassins and Templars…is it a war?"

"Yes. But neither we nor the Templars fight wholly for one side." Altaïr sighed. "I was ordered to kill Templars in both Christian and Muslim armies. For all the good that it did."

"So, it was actually a four-sided war." Oceanus frowned. "Everyone moved on their own, but Templars and Assassins hid within the other two factions?"

Blade and Ash flanked the group as they walked under the boughs of a tree with needle-like leaves. Ash growled at something none of them could see, though Riyaz did turn his head to the left to acknowledge the dog.

"We fought a war within a war." Altaïr explained patiently. "Islam and Christianity were—are—religions at war. Each side views the other as infidels. Christians invaded what they called the Holy Land—our home—in the hope that they could reclaim the ancient city of Jerusalem as their own. It is the greatest city in their holy book. We fought back."

Riyaz made a mild, neutral kind of noise as he climbed over a massive tree root. "Hm…"

"We have religious wars, sometimes." Oceanus said. "But it usually happens between races, rather than among one race." He drew a circle in midair. "For example, we have the fact that the orcs and the elves both hate each other. And so do their gods—something about how Corellon Larethian made Gruumsh a cyclops. So, every time they fight, I suppose it might be called a religious war."

"Except with Faerûnian gods, you never know if the people hated each other first, or if their gods did." Riyaz put in. "It gets very confusing at times."

Altaïr blinked at both of them. "…I doubt anyone among the armies thought that way, exactly." Trying to get back on track, he added, "The Brotherhood itself is primarily composed of Muslims—Islamic people from all over Syria—but we do not serve Salah ad-Din directly. He is the Sultan who commands the Saracens—Muslim forces. Do you both understand so far?" Riyaz and Oceanus both nodded. "But despite the fact that we are Muslim, we serve the people. Not Salah ad-Din, and not any of his generals. We work to protect the ordinary people in the Holy Land from soldiers from both sides."

"It sounds kinder than it is." Oceanus remarked. "You still have to kill people."

"True, but we do not target those who refuse to raise a blade." Altaïr followed Oceanus around the trunk of a massive tree—apparently, the priest was following a game trail. "And as I see it, it is not impossible for Christians and Muslims to live together."

"What do Christians look like?" Oceanus asked curiously. "Are they any different than Muslims?"

Altaïr had to think about that—there had been Christians and Muslims of all types, he knew, but it seemed like he only ever saw the sharpest possible distinctions while hunting for a target. He wanted to kick himself for it. And then possibly Oceanus, but you couldn't punish someone for curiosity when ignorance was the other option.

"Most of the Christians in the Crusader army are from Europe." Altaïr said after a while, remembering Sibrand. Meanwhile, they passed by a freshwater spring that just so happened to be inhabited by crocodiles. Which made no sense, but then, Faerûn was a land of insanity. They avoided it. "They were from colder lands—they are much lighter-skinned than the people who lived in their Holy Land to begin with. I think many of the foot soldiers might be peasants or otherwise common workers, given how little training they had." He frowned. "Many of them died on the march, from the heat. I doubt most of them knew how to adapt to the desert before they made it to Constantinople."

Oceanus and Riyaz exchanged looks.

"What?"

The priest shrugged. "Nothing."

"…Except for the European Muslims who were driven from the continent, most of the Islamic peoples are desert-dwellers." Altaïr went on, "Kurds, Afghans, and so on along tribal lines. Calimshan natives would be rather similar in build and appearance, I think."

Riyaz had looked away, at a tree that seemed to be twisting its trunk to keep them in "sight." But that would be insane. He had apparently stopped paying attention entirely.

"So what are you?" Oceanus asked, following Ash as the beast trotted ahead happily. Blade had stayed back with Riyaz to growl at the tree. "I noticed that you are almost two hands taller than Entreri, even though he fights in a crouch and you were hunched over."

…I am not going to punch him. "My mother was a Christian, my father a Muslim. Both were Assassins."

Oceanus paused. "Sorry."

"They died a long time ago. There is nothing to be sorry about."

"Still," the priest insisted. "It was insensitive of me to ask like that."

It wasn't like Altaïr was going to argue with that. "Yes, it was. But I forgive you."

"In return…" Oceanus took a deep breath. "My…father..." Altaïr did not miss the fact that the word was spat out like a bad taste, "…was born in Rashemen, I think. It is a region that is very, very far north, and it is overrun with animal spirits. They say he was raised by them, or possibly the witches whose covens run the country." Ash whined. "Mother is from Amn, which might explain her obsession with justice. The country is run by thieves and murderers."

"Not much different than most countries, actually." Riyaz remarked quietly. "At least the Shadow Thieves are honest about it…"

Oceanus rolled his eyes. "Honesty. As if it makes up for everything else. Just from memory, there are probably a dozen powerful factions—tied to a country or not—that have all earned a reputation for ruthlessness, evil, and general depravity."

Riyaz began to mutter under his breath. "The Red Wizards of Thay, the Zhentarim at Zhentil Keep, the Citadel of Assassins up in Vaasa, the resurgent Netherese, the Shadow Thieves of Amn, everyone who operates in Skullport…"

Well, they were certainly off topic now, whatever the topic was supposed to be. "I keep forgetting to ask—what are elves? Orcs?"

At least Oceanus didn't give him a look that said What are you, stupid? "Orcs are…human-shaped, at least. But they are much, much larger in the shoulders and are built like tree trunks. I think they tend to be around six feet tall, even the women. Their skin is slightly green for some reason, and they have huge, square jaws. Most of them also have tusks. They tend to have short lives because they fight so often, but the stronger ones can break a man in half."

Altaïr tried to imagine that. He really did. It didn't work.

Oceanus caught the look on his face. "It would be easier to see them for yourself…"

"Ignore me. What about the elves?"

"Elves are the opposite of orcs." Oceanus said, as Riyaz seemed to finally tire of being in the back of the group and walked past them, still muttering. "They look relatively human, but they have small, slight builds. Elves tend to be around five feet tall, and they usually weigh a fraction of what a human of the same size would. They age extremely slowly—an elf that actually looks like an adult would be over a hundred years old." He paused, thinking. "Elves have narrow faces and pointed chins, with no facial hair. And their ears are long and pointy."

"Would they happen to look anything like that?" Altaïr said dryly.

"Wha—?" Oceanus's head snapped up, and he saw Riyaz cautiously backing up, hands in the air. Blade and Ash were beside him, snarling every inch of the way. On the opposite edge of the clearing—but working their way around, quickly—was a group of the strange human-shaped beings Oceanus had been describing. Three of them had their bows trained on Riyaz, two on Oceanus and Altaïr.

"Wood elves." Riyaz murmured as he backed into them. "Eight, total."

"You should have said something!" Oceanus hissed at him, furious and embarrassed. Altaïr just sighed.

"You seemed busy…"

"You—!" He cut himself off. "You know what? Forget it. Just…damn it all."

"We could still get away." Riyaz said quietly. "I could change and we could fly…"

"Shot full of holes, maybe." Oceanus grumbled back. "Feel like using the trees?"

An arrow clipped Oceanus's ear. Altaïr heard him start cursing viciously, hand clapped to the side of his head.

"No," said Riyaz.

Oceanus didn't answer because he was too busy grinding his teeth in frustration.

A/N: Hopefully the next chapter won't take so long to get up, but this is it for now. Villains and adventures will ensue soon enough, now that I have better plan for them.