ZIIO

I certainly didn't expect a visit from him the next morning.

As usual, there came a knock on the door. As usual, Rose came in hurriedly with a tray of food and a bowl of ointment. She placed them down on the table and wished me good morning, as she always did. But following closely behind her was Haytham, already dressed. I shook my head, somewhat bemused.

"Here, Rose. Let me help you with that," he offered, helping her to her feet. Such a gentleman.

"No, it's fine. I can do it."

"I – I thought you were in the forest," I blurted.

He half-smirked. "I was...until I was conned into thinking that it was of importance."

I smiled (though I had no idea what he meant). "What made you come back so early?"

"William," he sighed deeply, "being a fool."

Now why did that not surprise me? Either way, I was glad to have him back. Although Rose and Henry had gone out of their way to help me, the air seemed quieter without Haytham. I wanted to ask him why he had returned in more detail, but Rose was stood in the room. It was too risky.

"Master Kenway offered to treat you this morning," Rose announced. "Is this alright with you?"

"That's fine," I replied, confused. "You go downstairs and rest."

"Ziio!" Haytham snapped playfully. "I'm the master of this house. Only I can give orders."

"Yes, Master. Sorry, Master."

We laughed in beautiful harmony, before he knelt and began washing the cloth around the essence bowl. Why had he volunteered to do my treatment?

He must've sensed what I was thinking. Once Rose left the room (leaving the door open), he rose to his feet and closed it.

"I wanted to tell you what happened yesterday."

Aha. I thought so. This will be interesting.

HAYTHAM

Ziio sat with furrowed brows as the story sunk in. I expected her to be angered by what happened, but more than anything, she seemed exasperated. The stillness in the air suggested that she was about to ask a question.

I was right. "It makes no sense. Why bond with our tribe now, of all times? After attacking us?"

"I don't know," I sighed, wishing that I did. I pulled back Ziio's covers and began applying the essence. The bright-red burns were slowly sinking. Now the blisters on her skin were flat, but still inflamed and sore. Ziio tensed...then relaxed as the scent of aloe vera filled both of our nostrils.

"Hang on...does that mean that your men coming to the village was an attempt of gaining our alliance?"

"How could it possibly be?" I replied. "All they wanted was to find information...and they had no intentions to be friendly."

Suddenly, the answer clicked into place with both of us. At the same time we gasped; I looked into her eyes excitedly.

"Are you thinking...?"

"Yes," Ziio murmured energetically, "William telling you that the excavation and temporary truce was for those other reasons...oh, what were they again?"

"To make an alliance with you before it was too late, to uphold our reputation and to...have an informative ally..." I gasped again; my voice rose hysterically as I said: "Ziio, that's it! William never really wanted any of those things. He just wanted the precursor site!"

"Exactly! What would he ever want with reputation and alliance?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing! You see?!" She clapped her hands with satisfaction, but withdrew them quickly like they'd been scorched. "Ow...my hands are still a bit blistered."

I never knew that her hands were burned. "Do you want me to put the ointment on –"

"No, thank you," she interrupted, waving her hand to show me that it was fine. "Nature will heal them. How are yours?"

"Slightly dry..." I declared, staring at my own palms, "but barely noticeable." (for I'd forgotten about them entirely).

Ziio nodded. "Good."

After a second's pause, I asked her: "So...what do you think that I should do about William?"

She hummed softly, tossing the problem in her mind. Even when her eyes were distant in thought, they were filled with spark and youthfulness. I watched her closely – like a hunter from a perch – and wondered. Why was Ziio so calm, all of a sudden? She'd been here for four days. Four eventful days, in which she'd been the most unpredictable of creatures. Now – away with her temper – it was like the lion lying with the lamb. I liked it a lot. Too much, perhaps?

"I would refuse..." she began, "but be assertive. Make known that your word is an order."

"I already told him that my decision would be final."

Ziio grunted in agreement. "My advice to you is to be rational. Make sure that they do not question why you refuse; only that the answer is 'no'."

"That should not be a problem," I chuckled.

"Of course not!" she joined in, and – to my utmost surprise – placed her hand on top of mine. "You are assertive. That is why you're a Grand Master."

My jaw opened and closed again, waiting for my tongue to function. Ziio's eyes were gleaming with a certain kind of mischief; a familiar, clarified coyness. Her smile: one of innocence, balancing the fire dancing in her eyes. Even her touch held its own softness, beyond physical sense. I grinned back at her.

"Thank you for your advice, Ziio." I took her hand and briefly squeezed it, before busying myself with the ointment again. I dared not look at her reaction to my words. "You're a very wise woman. You know that, don't you?"

She laughed gently. "Not really."

"You are!"

"Well...thank you. I'm relieved that I have come to some use here."

We glanced each other up and down...and fought a long, unfaltering smile.

ZIIO

Much later, Henry came into the bedroom, holding more than Rose could ever juggle. It was quite a sight: two silver trays were stacked on top of one another; little plates slid from side to side. He struggled into the light of the window and slapped them down on the desk opposite the bedside table. They made a terrible clatter, which nearly covered up Henry's next words:

"Pardon me, Ziio. I had to put those down before I dropped them."

I was a little confused at this. "What are they?"

"Ah, I was hoping you might ask!" He rubbed his wrinkled hands together. "You see, I have been – shall we say – experimenting in the kitchens with venison. I am hoping to achieve a slightly...tribal taste."

"I see," I murmured, clueless. "Hold on...what is venison?"

Henry picked up both trays and carried them to the bedside table. "Deer meat," he replied. "And...I was hoping that you might try some, and tell me which reminds you the most of home. Would you mind awfully sparing a minute?"

Reminds me the most of home? It seemed a bizarre request. I glanced down at the trays worriedly. One's plate had a large slice of meat, smothered in the brown substance that Rose called 'gravy'. On the side lay a few green vegetables. The second plate held meat that was chopped so finely that I would've thought it to be liquid. This was accompanied by a sprinkle of a grainy substance and the same beans, but instead of gravy, it was covered in red sauce. Steam from both dishes mingled with the candle smoke in the air; it clouded the shiny platters.

"I know that you have probably never eaten venison like this," he put in, "but I was just hoping for your opinion."

"All right," I agreed. "I will try it. Thank you."

I picked up a knife on the tray, stabbed the meat slice and took a small bite. Immediately the flavour of deer was absorbed in my tongue, filling me with warmth. The other flavours were almost masked under the taste of my tribe. I was home. I swallowed it slowly.

"This is almost exactly like home," I sighed. "I am impressed!"

Henry folded his arms with pride. "Try the next one."

I scooped some of the minced venison onto the knife and tipped it into my mouth. All sorts of exotic, distinct savours kicked and erupted as I chewed; from sweet to extreme bitterness. This was nothing like home, but goodness, it was delicious.

"This is like nothing I have ever tried...but it's wonderful! How did you make such a diverse meal?"

He chortled at my enthusiasm; I shrank back in embarrassment. "With difficulty. So...neither are inedible?"

"Not at all!" I replied.

He rubbed his hands together again. "I'm glad. So, which would you prefer to have for dinner?"

"The second one, please." My reply came without a moment's hesitation.

Henry bent down and picked up one of the platters (which was still hot; he pretended not to notice that it was burning his fingers). "I shall leave you to it. Enjoy."

"Thank you!" I shouted as he closed the door behind him.

As much as I was fond of Rose, Henry was an interesting character. He was like an old horse: faithful and friendly, but still unpredictable and odd. Certainly he wasn't my favourite of Haytham's two staff...but he clearly respected my advice.

Advice. I was turning into a sort of oracle under this roof. Did people really fear me as much as to look up to me? Or was it simply that I was wise? I doubted that. Not after how I'd acted over the past few days. Maybe this was a sure way to redeem myself: allow people to trust me.

Yesterday, I'd learned to trust others. The accompanying lesson – to let others trust me – was complete.

Yay! At last I'm on Christmas holiday, so I'll have a lot of time on my hands! I hope this means I can update more often. Sorry this chapter isn't really going anywhere – things will get more exciting.

Happy Christmas! Review honestly and thank you for reading! :)