Stephen stood with his back to the vast arched entrance and watched the assassins steer their cart through the opening of the outer wall. Maria was in the back, patched up and under the influence of the strongest sleeping concoction the healers could mix. He warned them if she woke up within fifteen miles of the keep they would hear her curses from the battlements. Once out of sight he moved back inside to begin the process of questioning those who had been following his father's orders. He sighed as his body rebuked him for keeping it from rest, he ached all over and his headache had returned with a vengeance but there would be time enough to rest later once the unpleasantness was over.

Malik moved from the graveside and fell into step with Altaïr, "Now we must deal with the boys who tormented him brother."

The Master shook his head slowly and chewed on his bottom lip, "One more day in the cells won't do them any harm Malik. I think we already know what needs to be done but I want to give Rashid every possible opportunity to learn humility before we ask him to answer for his wrongs."

Swatting at the flies around his face he lifted it to the warm sun, remembering the boy and his immature show of strength. "You are probably right; let them stew a while longer. As for me I need to bathe and sleep."

Altair's eyes were once more drawn in the direction of the huge fortress in Homs and once more Malik needed to ask no questions to know what was on his mind. "You chose to stay and deal with our own problems does that mean you have finally accepted your role and know you can no longer roam as freely as you once did?"

Slipping his hand beneath his hood the Mentor scratched his head and nodded, "I was always aware of my responsibilities Malik I simply hoped for more time."

Clapping a hand on his back, giving him a gentle shove in the direction of the fortress Malik smiled. It was staggering how much change this once arrogant man had undergone in so short a time, this could only bode well for the order. "Time brother is a thing which will never be controlled, no matter how strong the will which seeks to bend its passage it will not be mastered."

Tahir spent the night in the back of the cart beside the woman; Rauf could only imagine the last time either of them had slept comfortably. He himself had no such problems; a cosy bundle of hay outside the fortress wall had provided him with all the shelter he required. Deciding to keep going until the very last light had left the sky was an easy choice for the brother. He heard every word she had uttered before and during the battle and decided it would be only fair if it was the Master who had to deal with her vicious tongue. It was this thought which had dragged him from his clump of grass at first light once again setting the horses in the direction of Masyaf. He ate a light breakfast of bread and fruit and sat happily in the front of the cart bobbing his head with the motion of the contraption.

"Where are we Rauf?"

Glancing back at the bleary eyed novice in the back he smiled and tossed him the sack of food, "Very close to home now brother the outpost will be in sight within the hour."

Tahir tried to sit up but his long sleep on the unforgiving wooden floor had locked up his joints, "How did we get so far so soon?"

"I used all the light I could brother I am eager to be home. My novices do not fare well when I am not there to keep an eye on them."

Tahir looked down at the still sleeping woman and yawned. "The Master is not going to be pleased with how things went Rauf."

Rauf shrugged his shoulders refusing to let the novices concerns dull his jovial mood. "Things unfolded as they should Tahir the Master will understand that."

"We must get her to the healers before her wound requires cleaning if she wakes up and finds we have taken down her leggings..."

Rauf chuckled, "You know her better than I brother but I confess I would not relish such an encounter."

The sword had entered her lower back but had travelled downwards through the soft flesh of her buttocks. Tahir was no stranger to injury and he knew her recovery would be hindered by her inability to walk. "I suppose if that were to happen we could move out of reach sooner or later she would run out of things to throw."

He wondered what Gwen was doing at this very moment and guessed she would still be bundled up on her small pile of hay sleeping. Blushing furiously when his mind dared to imagine him once more being beside her he glanced over his shoulder to see if Rauf was reacting, as though the brother was privy to his innermost thoughts. Although still adjusting to a great many changes since he had first spent time with her he accepted them all without question. That he ached to see her, to keep her by his side and safe from harm seemed perfectly natural to the young man in fact the only thing which seemed to be out of place was the distance between them – he would have to summon the courage to speak to the Master and see what could be done to amend that.

Picking at a few dates he watched the road ahead looking forward to his first sight of home in many weeks. The roof of the outpost became visible in the distance and he shifted to better see the men who were guarding the grounds surrounding the fortress. He heard soft moaning coming from behind him and he turned just in time to see her open her eyes. It took a great deal of effort for her to get them open fully and even when she accomplished this she still seemed unable to focus.

'What on earth did those black clothed monks give her?'

"Where... where are we Stephen?" She tried to sit up but an excruciating bolt of pain put paid to that. "I got stabbed."

Perhaps it was his own happiness at being so close to home and his desire to share some of that with the woman who had saved his life but the novice took her in his arms and held her gently up so she could see the road they travelled never once considering that it wasn't such a welcome sight to her. "We will be in Masyaf within the hour Maria."

Her brain was still moving at a snail's pace and her eyes were still demanding she close them but something beside the road caught her attention and she forced what little sense she had to focus on it. White rags it almost looked like...white rags bearing a red cross. Wrapped around the decaying bodies of men left out in the sun to wither and rot. "Tahir my kind dead on the ground look do you see?" Raising her heavy arm to point at the bodies by the roadside.

He smiled and brought a water skin to her lips. "Don't try to force your thinking Maria the doctors gave you something very powerful."

Her eyes fluttered again and she felt herself drifting. What she wanted to do was to grab the idiot boy and slap him and then turn this damn trap around and head for home but her body and mind had been defeated.

The three boys had been led to the Mentors study and now stood with their backs to the railing and their eyes on the floor awaiting his attention. Malik entered the room but offered not so much as a brief glance in their direction. Since learning of Tazim's death the eldest of the boys had spent a long night arguing with his own conscience trying to convince himself that he could be apportioned no blame for the outcome of their teasing but his heart would not be swayed and he stood now ready to accept whatever punishment the Master decided to mete out knowing full well Tazim would still be alive if it were not for his actions. They stood for long moments listening to his quill scratch against the rough surface of the parchment while Malik stood over his shoulder to read what was being written.

After what seemed like an eternity his eyes shifted beneath his black hood and when his spoke his voice was soft and low, devoid of any emotion. "I know news travels swiftly among the novices even the cells are not beyond its reach so I will assume you are aware of Tazim's death?"

A strangled sob from the throat of the smallest of the boys was the only response to this so he continued. "Do you have anything to say in your defence?"

Rashid lifted his head seeking permission to speak and when it was granted he showed that the time spent in the cells had not been wasted. "I have nothing to offer for my own defence but my brothers were following my lead and should bear less of the blame than me. I am both the eldest and the highest in rank Master."

Malik had turned to the book case beside him knowing that tears would follow quickly should Altaïr choose to take them along that road but he knew that would be unlikely.

"We assassin are brothers bonded by duty and a creed. There is no blood link between us but that does not lessen our importance to each other. We face the world as one body united in our conviction and when one falls we all fall." Moving from his desk he stood before the boys, "Tazim's death is a blow to our order but it should be a blow to your heart you have lost a brother and for the pettiest of reasons."

Rashid flinched from the last sentence and his shoulders dropped, Altaïr, himself no stranger to shame understood how the boy felt. "Are you truly sorry for what you did?" A series of nods followed his question but unconvinced he pressed further. "What did you do?"

The eldest knew the answer to the question, not because he had rehearsed it but because he truly felt it, "I allowed envy and spite to guide my thinking Master. I work and study from dawn 'til dusk and seeing Tazim being heaped with praise for what I thought of as nothing more than a fluke drove me to abuse and humiliate him. I did not kill him in any physical way but he leapt from the tower because I had convinced him he couldn't and so I am responsible."

Malik moved in front of the boy, "Why are you sorry Rashid?"

"I'm sorry that he is dead, that he suffered at my hands but most of all I am sorry for the person I am. It shames me to know that I so easily turned to cruelty and would lead others to join me."

Qasir watched the biggest of their class all but crumble before the Master and Malik but he knew it was right, what he said made sense. He had been so worried about what would happen that he had forgotten to think about what had happened. He took in the master's left arm and wondered if the blade hidden beneath his sleeve would be the instrument of their death.

The Mentor looked along the line of boys and knew they were in fear of what was to come but he felt some pride as he watched them - they stood there and faced it without resorting to pleading for forgiveness. "You are to be demoted to the lowest rank of the order. You will present yourself to your teachers each morning to find out what tasks they have for you but you will not take part in any training until they feel you are ready you will stand at the side of the training ring and observe. You will eat, sleep and work with the youngest of our order and you will help them to grow. There will be no return to a higher level until Malik and I truly believe you are redeemed."

Each boy reacted to the punishment in different ways from sighs of relief to Rashid who bit his lip and closed his eyes. "Do you feel you have gotten off lightly? I must inform you that every brother will know of your shame; you will spend as much time regaining their respect as you will your ranks and the former will be far more difficult I assure you."

Malik knew just how much the Master had suffered from his own demotion but he also knew what he had gained – he could only hope the boys would benefit in a similar way. "Be under no illusion novices you will be closely watched and no more deviations will be tolerated. Should you stand guilty before us again you will find the outcome far more severe."

Silent nods and bows greeted his words, "Go to your new rooms with the young novices and remember you are there to teach them how to behave in a manner befitting a member of our order. Prove to us that you know how."

The boys exited in single file but Rashid stopped at the door and turned to say something but lost his nerve and dropped his head turning once more to the door. Malik stopped him, "You have something to say?"

"I was going to ask if I can be permitted to tend Tazim's grave."

Malik needed no direction from Altaïr he knew the proper response. "No, you are not granted permission to so much as visit his grave. That is a privilege you must earn."

Bowing his head he closed his eyes to hold back the tears he felt forming behind the lids before following the other boys down the stairs."

Once more alone the two men stood silent for a time until Malik suggested they begin to go over the messages which had arrived from Jerusalem. Taking his seat once more behind the desk Altaïr made a valiant effort to concentrate but it was a losing battle. Thankfully an assassin racing up the stairs towards them rescued him from the tedium of paperwork. Gesturing for him to come forward he bade him to speak.

"Master, Rauf and Tahir have returned and they have a Templar prisoner, a woman but she is injured."

Malik moved to the stairs expecting Altaïr to fly past him on his way to tend to the woman but he was surprised to see him walking – if a little faster than normal – to see her.

Making his way out of the fortress at this pace was agony but he knew the sight of him running around panicking would do nothing for the confidence of the men and so he forced himself to remain calm. Tahir came through the arch and entered the keep with her in his arms, her body was motionless and her head was hanging limply over his arm. His tongue sprang from his mouth to moisten his dry lips and his pace increased. Aware of the eyes of his men on him as he approached the women he closed his eyes offering a small prayer that she wasn't badly hurt before he reached for her. "Give her to me Tahir."

He knew it was unusual for the Master to carry an injured person let alone one who was wearing a red cross but there was nothing he could do. His hands which were desperate to feel her pulse and his heart aching to know she would be alright wouldn't be denied. The boy staggered slightly as he lifted her from his chest and held her to him but then she was there in his arms and he felt the rise and fall of her chest against his own and nothing else mattered. Not who was watching and certainly not what they thought. Unable to see any obvious signs of injury he looked at Tahir, "What is wrong with her?"

He moved closer to the Master so he could lower his voice, "She was stabbed in the uh... lowest part of her back but the reason for her stupor is the potion the priests administered so her journey would be comfortable for both her and us."

She heard voices coming from all directions, all Arabic and strange to her. People speaking but only the odd word would filter through to her brain. The strangeness of the situation was unsettling and she began to struggle in his arms fighting whatever it was that was keeping her senseless. She smelled something familiar, something sweet and heard a voice close to her ear whispering soothing words that she could understand even if most of them never registered with her.

"Safe now... rest... take care of you."

All her rising panic was stilled at the sound of his voice as though in the depths of her soul she knew this man would keep her safe. She said his name or at least she thought she did it was hard to be sure. Her brain slowly began to emerge from the sleep and her thoughts became cohesive if still laboured.

"Yes Maria?"

"You better make damn sure those men are buried before I'm well enough to seek revenge on their behalf."

Malik snorted, "Still unconscious and already giving orders, brother you have your hands full in more ways than one."

Carrying her in the direction of the healers he smiled softly at Malik's words, "Yes I do."

He heard Malik instruct Tahir and Rauf to accompany him to this study so he could learn what had happened but had no inclination to join him. He would learn the details soon enough for now he was where he needed to be and with who he wanted to be with.

She felt cool material against her skin and snuggled deeper into it. A soft smile played on her lips when she felt something brush her cheek and opening her eyes she saw the reason for that smile. His hood was down but that wasn't the only surprise, his robes were black. "Did you get tired of trying to wash the blood out of the white ones?"

Tugging softly at the front of his robes to show what she was talking about she saw him smile, "These are my new robes, after all it wouldn't do for the Master to be the same as everyone else."

Her own fingers reached for his face to stroke his skin seeking reassurance that this was real, this face that she feared she would never see again. "I'm in Masyaf aren't I?"

"Yes you are. Your friend felt it would be safer if you left Homs immediately and where else could Tahir have taken you?"

She wanted to say anywhere but here but that wouldn't have been entirely true, where else would she want to be? Anywhere else in the world but Masyaf that was certain but Masyaf was where he was and she was beginning to believe that was exactly the right place to be. Her fingers tangled with his short hair and pulled his face closer to hers, brought his mouth next to her own until she felt his warm breath caressing her lips. "I don't know it's hard to think about anything else at the moment."

In reply he closed the distance between their mouths, closing his eyes to allow himself to fully savour their reunion. He heard her soft sigh and knew she was being as deeply affected as he was. "I missed you Maria."

She chuckled and pulled back his head to again gaze upon his beautiful face, "You'll have to practise your aim assassin."

Lowering his face back to hers he submitted to his need to touch her, to feel her flesh against his own. Their cheeks rubbed as their mouths dropped tiny kissed upon any skin they could reach. He heard a sharp intake of breath and drew back to ask her what she had been about to say but there was no need her eyes said it all and his own responded in kind. He heard the healer's footsteps on the stone floor outside and knew their time alone would come to an end in seconds. "Say it."

She grinned as she pulled his ear closer to her mouth. "My fucking arse is killing me!"

Stephen sat at the bedside of the ailing priest and let his head drop to his hands. He had learned a great deal from the young priest who had tended his wounds and who had also listened to every word he and Maria said. The information had been hard earned and the sickness the young knight now felt ravaging his stomach was partly because of the infection but mostly it stemmed from holding a man down and causing him pain until he can stand it no more.

The man had initially been unwilling to talk but a few broken fingers and one severed thumb with the promise that he would remove the rest one by one had loosened his tongue. Donjon served the Templars as Maria called them, a small group of men from all walks of life who shared a common goal, to gain dominion over the thoughts and actions of mankind in order to achieve peace. But were they a small group? Was the order he had committed himself to serving corrupt to the core or could it still be saved? There was only one man who could answer those questions and Stephen knew it would take a great deal more than a severed thumb to force him to share what he knew.

Moving closer to the Master of the Hospitaliers Stephen whispered, "You have brought shame on your order and made a mockery of your vows, there will be no rest for you or for any who share your views."

Donjon felt his heart soar at the young man's words, there was still hope after all.

"The boy Roland who died fighting to clean up the mess you made – I hear he was loyal to you. As undeserving as you are of the sacrifice he made, it offends me to know you still live while he rots in the ground." He lifted his dagger to the old man's chest and placed the point directly over his heart. "I take no pleasure in ending your life but it is a fair punishment for your crimes and when I leave here I will seek out the conspirators and end them as I now end you. William Marshal and his lackeys will not win I promise you that."

The old French priest who had begun his service to his order with the same devotion he now witnessed in the eyes of his executioner smiled. He may not rest but at least he would die knowing there would be men out there strong enough to fight against the men he had been too weak to refuse. When the dagger pierced his skin he felt a sting but that soon gave way to agony as the cold unforgiving metal cut a path through his body to his heart.

Stephen pushed the last of the blade into the chest of an anointed priest and closed his eyes, "God forgive us both."