Definitions:
Kaafir = disbeliever
Six
In a numbed state she watched the man in white run and disappear behind a building. Someone tugged at her sleeve, urging her to move. "Quickly, before the guards see you!" An old lady pulled her inside a house.
Esma was too shocked to comprehend what was going on. All she could think of was the man's neck, which spurted open, the blood that had splattered in her face. The warm and sticky fluid had burned her eyes until they were washed out by her tears. She sobbed and wiped her tears away, but new drops kept flowing out of her eyes.
"There, there, it's over now," the old woman said as she gently pulled her in to an embrace. "I will set up a bath for you so you can cleanse yourself from the filth. After that, my son can escort you to your house." She left Esma in the living room and headed for the washing room.
Esma blankly stared at the wall. She did not know how much time had passed when the lady returned, but she let herself be guided to the washing room by her hand. When she saw the clear water, she shook her head slightly, pulling herself back to reality. "Thank you very much, may the Lord reward you for your kindness," she said with a hoarse voice, "I can handle myself from here."
"Don't worry about anything, just take your time," the lady told her and squeezed her hand reassuringly before she left the room, closing the door firmly behind her.
Esma shed her stained clothes off and slipped into the tub. With a cloth she excessively rubbed her face till her skin started to burn. A red stain was left on the fabric; the guard's blood. She gagged. The stench of blood had never been so disturbing. Usually they were from sheep at Achmed's, but this was something completely different; human blood. She could still feel his hands harshly pinning her face and then the next moment he would die like an animal, his lifeless body slumping to the ground.
His dying eyes had stared at her in surprise and anger. Had he lived a good life? Had he given the correct answer to the angels that had come to collect him? By the Lord... this all felt too surreal, as if she was living in a dream.
She leaned back and slapped the wet cloth on her face. He was there again, appearing out of nowhere and leaving a trail of dead behind him, but saving her in the process. If she weren't there at the time, he probably wouldn't have come to kill the guards. The mere thought of that act made her squeeze her eyes shut. The Lord had willed it to go like this. Had the Assassin confronted the guards especially for her? If the city bells were because of him that would mean he was on a get-away and it would have made no sense to voluntarily throw himself back into the enemy den.
"Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, praise the Lord," she muttered to herself.
Her father was right. Guards, Assassins, there was corruption everywhere. She didn't want to tell him what had happened for it would surely cause him much pain. On top of that the Assassin had requested her to keep silent about him. If she was going to tell the whole story she would have to mention him as well. The least she could do to thank him for saving her -albeit it was in a very cruel way- was to keep silent over him.
She sighed heavily, her eyes trickled and her nose felt stuffy from the emotions she felt earlier in the day. How much she longed for a comforting touch now.
الله أكبر
Maher politely smiled to Naveen as he passed her the bowl with salad. He peeked at Esma with a slight frown, but Esma looked away. This dinner was the one Naveen had looked forward to so greatly. Present were Naveen and her parents, her father, Maher, her uncle and his wife. Just like her, Maher also grew up without a mother, but her uncle had remarried, leaving Maher with a stepmother.
She never knew why, but there was always some kind of tension between her uncle Hasan and her father that she could not put her finger on. During the years she had learned to ignore it, just like they did. Despite their feud, Maher never stopped coming over to help them out with tasks and preparations in the saloon. Praise the Lord.
The older folks chatted loudly, busying themselves with getting acquainted to each other, but Esma made sure to avoid gazes to prevent having to engage in conversation. She felt too anxious to hold up a decent conversation. Her father cast a worried look in her direction, but she forced a smile on her face to ensure him that everything was fine. He didn't seem convinced by the sincerity of the smile, but to Esma's relief he left it at that and turned his attention back to Naveen's parents.
Naveen shrieked in laughter and looked to Maher with rose tinted cheeks. Esma slightly smiled at the sight. Perhaps she was wrong and they would make a nice couple. Just as she thought that, Maher glanced at her and gave her a wink. Esma rolled her eyes. Perhaps she was giving him too much credit. She got up from her seat, the wooden stool scraping over the floor.
"Esma?" Maghrub said with raised eyebrows.
"I'm going to catch some fresh air in the back garden. Please enjoy your food," she smiled politely and excused herself.
"Dear, have you had enough already?" It was Naveen's mother.
"Yes, please enjoy your food, aunt Hakima."
When she opened the back door the setting sun welcomed her to come outside. The air was a bit stuffy, but she'd prefer it anytime over being caught between her uncle and father's obvious tension. She carefully sat down on the stone bench. Her gaze instinctively went to the spot on the wall where the Assassin had made his appearance a few weeks back. Her body tensed at the memory of the incident and she clenched her fists in indignation. Were it not for him at the time the guards would probably have killed her off or taken her back to the barracks and done worse things to her. At the mere thought of what they could have done to her, tears welled up in her eyes. She heaved a deep sigh and sucked in the air to calm herself down before drawing unwanted attention to herself.
"Tears travel to the Lord in prayer," a sudden voice sounded with the rustling of clothes that indicated someone was behind her, "or so they say."
Esma jerked around and looked right into the face of Majd Addin's killer. She gasped in shock and shot up from her seat to get away from him. His skill in stealth made her realize in what kind of position she was. Someone with the blood of countless men on his hands did not belong in this peaceful garden she called home, so what was he doing here?
Yet she could not and should not forget this very same man had saved her from the clutches of the corrupted guards.
"I didn't tell anyone," Esma said out of breath, not daring to move. The way he just stood there with his face obscured and once again, with an emotionless form, she could not tell whether he was a friend of foe and this made her terribly anxious. "Are you... are you going to kill me this time?"
The Assassin snorted. "What would have been the point in saving you if I'd do that?"
"Thank the Lord..." Esma muttered in relief. She hesitantly looked up to the Assassin, awkwardly meeting his eyes for the first time. His stare was hard and intimidating, but she didn't think they reflected any ill intentions. Perhaps it was just the shape of his eyebrows that accentuated his scowl. She clenched the fabric of her skirt between her fingers. "They were looking for you, weren't they?" she said with a shaky voice.
The man stepped forward, closing the distance between them, but Esma tensed at his close presence and shifted back.
"Why do you ask if you already know?" he asked, his gaze lingering on her form so intensely that she felt herself blush under his eyes.
"I-I don't. I am merely guessing." This was not entirely true. As the rumour went that Talal the slave trader had been taken care of by an Assassin, added their last encounter, she immediately related the man to the assassination. Seeing as his previous political action was to rid of the corrupted Majd Addin, this would make sense to her.
"You should not interfere with our business," he said, his voice softer this time.
"I am not trying to interfere; I wish nothing but to be left out of the violence." But your presence awakens my curiosity.She fiddled her fingers while her eyes lingered on the wall behind the Assassin. Why were his methods so cruel if his intentions were righteous? Even though he had saved her, he had slaughtered the town guards like they were nothing more than cattle. She let out a small sigh, "Thank you for saving me, brother". Even though she condemned the method he used, she was still thankful for his protection.
The man didn't answer her and took the liberty to sit down on the stone bench, surprising Esma with his boldness. Making himself comfortable in the saloon she would understand, but here? She did not dare to shoo the man away, afraid for his unpredictability. Though deep down she was interested in this man's state of mind. What drove him to such extreme practices? She sat down herself as standing before him while he was seated made her feel uncomfortable, but she made sure to keep enough distance.
"Brother," Esma said and the Assassin turned her way, with his gaze on her she hesitated to speak, but she forced herself to finish her sentence, "don't you ever feel guilt or remorse?"
The man turned away again and stared into the garden. They bathed in silence for a painful amount of time, making Esma regret she had asked the question. Finally he said, "It depends". There was more silence. Just as Esma was about to respond, he cut her off by adding, "Sometimes".
He is only human, it dawned on her. Of course he could feel remorse, what was she thinking? His honesty was what had surprised her the most.
"I... I cannot erase the cruel images from my mind," Esma hesitantly said and carefully looked up at the Assassin. When he appeared to be listening, she continued, "They haunt me in my sleep."
Tears trickled behind her lids and she wondered why she was even telling the man this, but subconsciously she knew the answer to that. Keeping such a happening a secret was consuming her and she felt the need to confide in someone, anyone.
"I am sorry to hear that."
She looked up in surprise, his empathy catching her off guard. "Really?" she asked slightly in disbelief.
"Yes," his voice was stern, "you know the guards are disbelievers, do you not?"
"I have heard them more than once call upon the Lord. How are they disbelievers?"
"They have ill faiths, their hearts are corrupted."
"Assuming they are kaafir is not right, only the Lord knows the answer to that," Esma carefully said, afraid to irritate the Assassin by disagreeing with him.
"Would you have preferred me not interfering and let the guards have their way with you then?"
Esma's eyes widened in fright and she immediately shook her head. "No, of course not! I am truly grateful that you stepped in, brother, but I just cannot find a way to deal with the burden that I was the reason these men died."
"These men had no business with you," the Assassin said. "If I would not have finished them off they would have tried taking my life and yours. Your burden might be lightened if you look at the situation from a different perspective."
"But the bloodshed—"
The man stood up. "Your blood would have flown instead of theirs. Think about that, Esma."
She froze at the sound of her name from his lips. Of course he would know her name! He was a regular at the saloon after all, but the sound of her name from his mouth struck her as odd. After everything that had happened, his restaurant visits would not be the first thing she would associate him with. She swallowed dryly before answering, "I just wish they would stop trying to overtake the Holy Land..."
"They won't. They are not satisfied until they've conquered all and rid of all that they deem outsiders. That is how reality is."
"You think you are bettering the world by murder?"
"For a greater good. You know that we don't harm innocents and only take out those who shamelessly benefit from the suffering of the victims the war has caused."
"If that's what you want why don't you side with Salah'al-Din! He fights the crusaders and..." her voice trailed when she thought of Majd Addin who had ruled in his place.
"...Leaves corrupted leaders to fill his role in his absence?" the Assassin finished her sentence.
To this Esma had no answer. She believed Salah'al-Din was doing the right thing; the city needed to be defended against outsiders and that was exactly what their leader was doing. But why did he allow Majd Addin to get to power? Did he not know of the man's actions? Did Majd Addin take the position in secret? Then there were the Assassins, one of them standing right before her. Their beliefs were unknown to her, but this man protected the innocents and rid of the corrupted, which meant...
He was good.
Her eyes widened at the realization and she slowly looked up at the Assassin. Her heart started to beat faster in her chest. This man was good. "Are you... a believer?" Her voice was a hoarse whisper.
Before the man could answer, the back door creaked, making the Assassin spin around in response, briefly touching her shoulder in the process before he jumped against the wall. In a daze, Esma watched him leap onto the roof - all this without a sound. She quickly shook her head and looked to the door that had opened in the meantime.
Maghrub blinked at her. "What's on the roof?" he enquired, slightly suspicious but mostly concerned. He walked into the garden to get a better view of the roof.
"Oh, it was just an eagle passing by," she quickly said, but immediately felt bad for lying to her father. How could she possible explain the Assassin's presence in their garden without telling him about the assault? "It's... a rare sight to see them fly so low. Usually I see them circle around the great mosques or cathedrals," she continued to make her lie appear more convincing. She carefully took in her father's expressions, trying to gauge whether he bought the lie.
"An eagle?" he repeated with a frown. "As long as they keep out of the saloon," he grumbled. Then he turned his attention to Esma. "Is everything alright?"
"Yes, of course," Esma said and briefly looked away. When she realized she could not look her father in the eyes, she figured he would already know she was lying.
Maghrub stayed quiet for a while, then he walked up to his daughter and squatted down before her. He reached out and pulled Esma towards him, their foreheads touching. "I know I could never replace your mother," he spoke, the pain in his voice making Esma want to cry, "But don't ever let your secrets bring you down. If you can't bring it up to tell me, know that the Lord is ever watching us and all-knowing."
"I know, Father," she answered and closed her eyes. A tear trickled down her cheek.
The spot on her shoulder where hehad touched her so briefly still felt warm, a burning sensation which she could not explain.
Beta reader: Simply Laura
Author notes: Hi guys! Apologies for the late update (it's been exactly one mouth, ugh). Due to circumstances stuff took a bit longer. Fear not, though, because I have chapter 7 betaed and ready on my PC. Guaranteed it's not going to take a month for the next update. I've also been editing the last bits and pieces of chapter 8 and it's over 5000 words, phew. Long chapters are nice, no? I hope you enjoyed this chapter nonetheless. Reviews, critic and comments are welcome! Thank you for sticking along till chapter 6 already :) Have a good day!
PS: I completely forgot about the new cover *grins*. It's a picture I drew, though Esma turned out like a little girl, which was not really my intention. Oh well.