Seven
What goal do you plan to achieve through murder? This is not the straight path! It is arrogance that drives the brotherhood—
Altaïr pushed his hood back and rubbed his hands over his face.
Achieving peace through murder. It was indeed rather ironic, but they didn't know Al Mualim the calculated leader of their creed. No. It was not arrogance that drove the creed; it was determination to recreate a better world. The strive to a peaceful society that the Assassins had to sneak in the shadows to get to this goal was not cowardly, it was a strategic necessity.
He raised his left hand and examined the stump of his missing ring finger.
A necessity to reach their goal.
Altaïr sighed and got up from the wooden crutch. He was in the main hall of the Assassins' fortress in Masyaf. Around him were a few bookcases, hiding him from the other brothers' sights. He walked up to the large staircases which lead to the garden the concubines usually resided. Another story up was their Mentor's bureau. He felt a few eyes pry on his form, making him pull the hood over his head again as he made his way to the garden.
With his arms crossed over his chest, he leaned against the door opening to watch the tranquil sight of the setting sun. After a while, his eyes shifted to the concubines in the garden. The women were peacefully conversing with each other and ignored his presence. One of the girls caught his eye and smiled to him, beckoning him to come with a small hand gesture. Almost unnoticeably Altaïr shook his head and focused his gaze on the sunset again, wondering if the women were this willing when they were first brought in.
His mind strayed off to the girl of the saloon. He disliked being distracted by feeble matters, but there was something about her that fascinated him. No doubt her striking features played a part in that. He liked the sound of her voice, how she used it to convey brave thoughts from her heart that made him think over matters. Then there were her bright, expressive eyes which would look to him in fear and worry.
He wondered how these eyes would look like if she smiled.
Al Mualim had taught them that any kind of love or intimacy would make them weak. It was a good thing that Malik was the bureau leader of Jerusalem, because it made him reluctant to spend his free time there.
His time with Adha had taught him a valuable lesson: stay away from those you love. His heart painfully pulled together at the memories. Clenching his fists he made his way back outside.
Halfway down the hill the captain of the training grounds ran up to him, "Altaïr! It seems my students do not fully understand what it is to wield a blade. Perhaps you could show them what you know."
"Which students are they?"
Altaïr joined the other man down to the sparring area. He scanned the small pack of students and to his surprise, most of them looked up in awe when they noticed him.
"They are mostly novices. It would be good for them to learn some real techniques that could save their lives and favour their missions."
The fact that Altaïr himself was only a few ranks above a novice was ignored by most on the training ground. He was still far superior in combat to any of them as his skills had not disappeared along with his title.
Altaïr stepped inside the training ring, the rough gravel grinding under the soles of his boots as he drew his sword, "What are you practicing?" he asked the young man before him as he sized him up.
"Oh, eh," the young Assassin said, nervous by the presence of the former Master Assassin, he looked to his mentor for help.
"Please demonstrate the guard break," the captain said with a loud voice.
"Unsheathe your sword," Altaïr commanded.
The younger Assassin quickly did as he was told. As soon as he was in fighting position, Altaïr stepped forward and lashed out with his sword. His opponent gasped and tried to block the attack, but he was too slow. The tip of Altaïr's sword lightly poked against the left side of boy's chest.
"Always be on your guard," Altaïr said as he withdrew the weapon, "Now block so I can demonstrate the break."
The other nodded eagerly and quickly held his weapon in front of him, honoured as he was that he was being personally taught by the Altaïr.
"Altaïr," a voice called out, making the former Master Assassin raise his hand up to the student and turn around, "Al Mualim wishes to speak to you."
اللهأكبر
The bustling market and the hot sun made Esma's head spin. Salesmen shouting, buyers bargaining, preachers praying, children yelling, Naveen yapping next to her, everyone seemed high on energy today. She looked around her nervously, fearing that the guards might be watching her again. Though in the middle of the marketplace the chance of being harassed was definitely less likely.
Naveen hooked her arm around Esma's elbow and dragged her friend along, "You see that stand there?" she pointed with her free hand. "Beautiful patterns for dresses!"
Esma peered against the bright sun and had to admit Naveen had a keen eye.
"Let's go have a look!"
"Yes, sure," Esma responded, trying to put her mind to the conversation.
Naveen inspected and touched the different fabrics, valuing each cloth's potential to turn into a new favourite dress. The man behind the stand watched the two women with a smile. He slightly leaned forward and said, "For you lovely ladies, I will give you a special price!"
"Oh! How considerate of you, brother," Naveen clapped her hands in delight, "Perhaps if we'll buy more you will give us an even more special price?"
"It depends," the man nodded, "which ones have caught your eyes?"
Just as the man had said that, Esma noticed a familiar form in the corner of her eye. Her heart skipped a beat and she had to refrain herself from jerking her head up. She forced herself to subtly raise her chin and casually look to the white blur in the crowd, but her rapid breathing gave her excitement away.
Was it him? It could be a lone scholar... no, that apparent walk was too identifiable, it was definitely him. Her stomach fluttered till the point Esma nearly felt nauseas. How could she feel this lightheaded about anyone whom she didn't even know the name?
"—but I'd prefer one with a golden line, what do you think, Esma?" Naveen asked indecisively.
When the girl received no answer, she lowered the cloth in her hands and she looked up to her friend. Her gaze automatically followed the direction her friend was looking to, but she couldn't make out what could be more interesting than these beautiful fabrics before them.
"Esma?" Naveen gently nudged her friend with her elbow.
It had been nearly three weeks since she last saw him. Ever since that time he had constantly invaded her thoughts, leaving her with a desire to learn more about the mysterious brotherhood and their motives, to learn more about him. She thought she would never see the man again, but here he was roaming the streets of Jerusalem once more.
"I'll be right back," Esma said and briefly touched Naveen's shoulder without looking at her. She hurriedly made her way to the crowd where she had last seen the noble Assassin, ignoring Naveen's protests which quickly faded as their distance grew.
When she couldn't spot the man in the crowd anymore, she worriedly put a hand to her lips. Where did he go? Did he disappear into one of the alleyways? There was no way she should go into those deserted, narrow streets to look for an Assassin. Yet her heart pleaded her to go just have a quick peek for the man might be waiting there for her.
She stood on the middle of the street in hesitation when suddenly someone brushed past her, making her step aside in annoyance. The street was wide enough for the man to take some distance. What a pawpaw, she thought in indignation. Suddenly a flash of white ran past her and punched the other man straight in his face. Esma gasped at the realization it was the Assassin as well at the fact that he had outright punched a man. Then she noticed the man was in fact only a boy in his teens.
By the Lord, what was going on?
"Get out of here, before I change my mind," the Assassin said to the boy, who immediately nodded while holding onto his nose with a pained expression before he spun around to make his get away.
Esma gaped at the scene. What happened to the 'noble' Assassin? How had he gone from ridding corruption to punching helpless boys? And how did he get behind her?
The Assassin turned around and approached her.
Esma had expected herself to feel more at ease this time because of her newfound conclusions about his intentions, but she was taken by surprise by his explosive, violent behaviour towards a fellow citizen, making her stand in doubt again. She cautiously took a step back.
"Peace upon you, Esma," he said casually, "You should hide your pouch from sight or else you'll become an easy target."
Esma's eyes widened and she immediately patted around her waist where she usually had her coin pouch attached. It was gone,she realized in exasperation. Her eyes shot up to the Assassin. "Did you...?"
A lopsided smile drew across his face and he presented the familiar pouch in the palm of his hand.
Esma looked to man in disbelief. He had aided her once again and all she was doing was writing off bad intentions to the man. She cast her eyes down in guilt. Do not prejudice,she reprimanded herself sternly.
She couldn't believe she had just been pick pocketed; one moment the pouch was a natural companion, the next moment it had disappeared without her even noticing and now it was in the Assassin's strong hand, urging her to reach out and take it from him. She took a deep breath and took the coin purse from his hand, her fingers touching his in the process. Her cheeks felt hot and she knew exactly what that meant.
This was just too embarrassing.
"Thank you, brother," she muttered and forced herself to look at the man, but when she realized she hadn't properly greeted him yet, she quickly added, "Peace upon you as well."
They bathed in silence until the Assassin broke the stillness, "How have you been?"
Esma turned an even deeper shade of red, wondering if the Assassin was showing interest in her by asking such a question. "Alhamdulillah, I've been well, thank you for asking. What about you? Are you... unscathed?"
"Yes. I am fine," his answer was curt, but his body language showed he wasn't trying to be distant. He looked down to ground, obviously in thought. When he looked back at her, he said, "I have some matters I need to attend to".
"Oh," Esma uttered, but immediately regretted her thoughtless reaction as she was being too obvious in her disappointment. "Yes, I understand that you are busy, brother...?" She looked to the man hoping he would give her a name, but the man just stared at her, unnerving her with his hard gaze. She cleared her throat and averted her eyes, "Might I ask for your name?"
"I don't think it would be wise to know my name."
Her stomach dropped at hearing the rejection. She peered at the man, feeling upset and disappointed. He knew her name, so why wouldn't he tell her his? She sighed over her own irrationality. Surely the Assassin had his own reasons to stay anonymous.
"I see," she said and nodded in understanding, although she wasn't content at all with his answer. She hesitated for a moment before adding, "I hope you understand that I just wish to know the name of my saviour".
The man looked around him, not responding to her words. "Let's move along," he said, "staying still in one spot might attract attention."
Esma tensed and cautiously looked to the man. The realization struck her that she trusted the Assassin too much. For all she knew he might drag her into an alleyway and have his way with her, but the fact that he had saved her and his noble deeds altogether made it more likely that he had no ill intentions, but still, she shouldn't push her luck.
"My friend is here at the marketplace. I shouldn't wander too far," Esma said, hoping the excuse would make the Assassin stay where they were.
"We won't go far," he answered, "Where is your friend?"
Esma pointed to the carpet maker's stand. To her relief she noted that Naveen was still mesmerized by the many different patterns.
The Assassin started to walk, away from Naveen and the stand. Esma stood in hesitation for a moment, but then quickly turned to follow him. She wanted to slap herself across her face for being so naïve to follow an Assassin.If her father or Maher for that matter knew what she was doing right now, added the incident of the guards, she'd definitely be life sentenced to the saloon.
"Is the other man your fiancé?" the Assassin suddenly asked, catching Esma off guard with his forward question.
Esma blinked in surprise and tried to find the Assassin's face under his hood. "You do not want to tell me your name, yet you feel no aversion asking me such a question?" Was he referring to Maher? He had seen them together at the execution plaza after all.
The Assassin was bemused for a moment as a small smile drew across his face. "Knowing my name will only bring you more jeopardy, therefore I feel it's better to keep it unknown," he said calmly.
Esma opened her mouth, but no words would come out. She stared at him, shocked by his sincere answer. "Oh," she sheepishly said and a light blush drew over her face. She reminded herself that this man had saved her from the clutches of the corrupted guards; he was nota bad man.
"If you must insist," he slowly spoke, "you can call me Altaïr."
"The hawk?" she said in surprise as she had not expected him to give her an answer, but the gesture warmed her inside and she couldn't help but smile slightly. "Is this your real name?"
"Yes. Al-tair covers multiple flying birds. I would prefer the eagle as you can find them around the cathedrals here in Jerusalem as well."
Esma automatically looked up to the sky to see if she would spot any eagles, but none showed itself. "Altaïr," she slowly said, testing the sound of the name in her own voice. Suddenly she remembered she had actually used the eagle to substitute the Assassin's visit when her father had almost walked in on them. She couldn't help but laugh at the thought.
"Is it amusing?" Altaïr asked, looking at her expectantly.
Esma waved her hands in an apologetic manner, "No, no, I wasn't laughing at your name. I just... the eagle really seems to suit you."
A small smile tugged at the Assassin's lips, "So is the other man your fiancé?" he asked, turning the course of the conversation again.
This time Esma blushed at the question. She shook her head, "No, he is merely my guardian." She wondered how this came across to the Assassin. Was it credible to spend so much time with a man without having ulterior motives?
Altaïr didn't remark on her answer. "I'll walk you back to your friend," he said, "Perhaps I'll drop by your father's saloon tonight."
Esma noticed her excitement at his last sentence and she feared that her eyes lit up a bit too much in reaction. She cleared her throat and tried to hide her enthusiasm. "Alright," she nodded.
For some unknown reason she enjoyed spending time with this man. Just the thought of wanting to get in touch with a killer was horrendous, so how come her heart disagreed with her rationality? She didn't understand her own emotions and she prayed to the Lord that He would guide her.
"Altaïr," Esma said and she looked at his face, trying to make eye contact, "will you be in the restaurant or the garden?" When she realized what she had actually said, she blushed. She did not mean to provoke a secret meeting in the back garden, but rather to clear up where she should expect him. She hoped the Assassin wouldn't misunderstand her.
"You want to meet in the back garden?"
He sounded surprised, rightfully so, Esma figured. "No! I meant, I wasn't sure where to expect you, so I thought I should ask. It just came out more boldly than I intended. My apologies."
"Don't apologize," he said and his gaze went to the marketplace, "Let's go."
Esma couldn't help but feel a little disappointment that he was already leaving, but she comforted herself with the thought that this man had the responsibility to make sure she was safe and would probably look her up later on the day. Or was it just the food that made him come back to the saloon? She bit her lip and shook off the thoughts. It was bad to over think the situation.
If the Lord willed it she would see him appear tonight.
Beta reader: Simply Laura.
Replies:
Guest :.: Thanks a lot for your comment!
Violyss :.: Unusual Altaïr? Haha. I just write him as I feel he would respond, kind of. After reading his Codex I found him not at all so cruel or blunt as he appears. Perhaps that's also because he became wiser. Anyway, thanks for your review! Really, really appreciated!