Leon followed his guide through the worn, dusty streets of Alexandria, cloak wrapped close around him, hand always resting on Sara. The blazing sun beat down, only somewhat relieved by the cool sea breeze that sent his tattered cloak dancing around his ankles. Around them children laughed and dogs barked, merchants called advertisements and carts creaked through the twisting streets...but not so many as the true great cities of the Mediterranean. Alexandria, the beautiful, learned lady, jewel of the coast, had fallen to poverty and ruin. No longer did she rule the greatest kingdom in the world, no longer did men come from afar to study at her feet; without these her walls and towers had crumbled under the slow tread of the sun.
None of it mattered to Leon. He was here for a purpose, with a long letter and a small packet to deliver to those who might aid him on his way. The days of listening and wondering at stories of the ancient days, when Alexander had rode forth and placed the world at his city-daughter's feet, were gone with the one who had told them.
But Leon couldn't quite cut the small thread of wistful regret that ran though his heart, knowing how they would have enjoyed the city together, and that he was here alone.
His guide, a ragged little dock urchin, brought him to a large, crumbling house in one of the better districts. Leon waited by the outer wall while the boy knocked on the the door and explained matters to the elderly servant that answered, only moving when the boy called out to him in broken Italian. He flipped the boy a coin, gave the letter to the servant, and waited again in the entry hall. He could only assume things had gone well. He stroked his thumb along Sara and pretended not to notice the children crowded behind one of the deeper doors, watching him.
Eventually the servant came back to lead him deeper into the house, past the scattering children and into a lovely, well-preserved room with cool tile floors that opened into a beautiful, extensive garden. There an old man waited for him, and Leon's hand tightened around Sara without knowing why.
The old man gave him a deep bow, one Leon returned politely, if a bit awkwardly. He had always let Mathias handle this sort of thing before, with his gift of diplomacy and languages, and without him - Leon cut that thought off before it could finish. The man spoke at him in Arabic, Latin, Italian, and two more languages Leon couldn't identify before shaking his head and handing Leon a small bit of paper. With gestures, he indicated for Leon to place it under his tongue, as he did the same with another bit of paper.
The paper had an odd, sharp taste that contrasted with the lovely smell of sunshine and flowers from the garden, but matched an underlying scent that floated about the room like incense. It took Leon a moment to recognize it, but when he did he understood why he had been so tense. It was the smell of Walter's castle and Mathias's rooms: the scent of alchemy.
"My colleague Rinaldo tells me you seek my old friend Mathias. I have to admit, I am surprised. You seem to be a countryman of his, while I have only known him through letters for many years. Under other circumstances, I would be asking you for news of the legendary Cronqvist the Wise." The alchemist's mouth formed Arabic shapes, but Leon heard it as flawless French.
Mathias had never mentioned having friends in Alexandria, nor a trick to speaking in all languages. Once, Leon would've been hurt. Now all he could muster was a vague, weary interest - the last year had more than shown how little Leon knew the man he'd once thought of as a brother. He looked out at the beautiful garden and the distant sky, hand tight on Sara, and patiently told his story again.
He knew for a fact Rinaldo had put it all in the letter, but it was of little matter. The only thing Leon cared about was if the old alchemist could help him.
When he was done, the alchemist sighed again and stroked his beard. He looked at the tiled ceiling, the rich floor cushions, the garden, everywhere but Leon. His expression was familiar: that of a man trying to put off the inevitable.
"He has not come here," the alchemist said at last, and he didn't seem to be lying. "But there is not much left in Alexandria. He may have gone to Fustat, if he came to Egypt at all. If I know Mathias, he would prefer Constantinople-"
"Not Constantinople." It was true Mathias had loved visiting Constantinople, when the Emperor allowed them entry. He had begged to be on every expedition to the city, and had usually brought Leon along. They had spent many hours wandering the city, every minute filled with Mathias' eager explanations of the wonders of the Roman Empire.
But that was before. Leon knew Mathias would never go back to the queen of cities now.
The alchemist shrugged, but did not argue. "I doubt a former crusader would go to Isfahan, but he seems to have changed much. I may have some...contacts, I can call upon, but it will take time. I do not know how long you can stay..."
Every minute Leon spent here was a minute Mathias could use to flee. He twisted his fingers into Sara's loops. "I have nowhere to be."
A shadow passed over the alchemist's face, hidden by a deep bow. "Then you may stay here as long as you need."
Leon took pity on the man. "I will work for my room, never fear. I may not know the language or customs of your land, but I can lift and carry as well as any man."
"I could not possibly ask you-"
"I insist." Tiresome. So very tiresome. Leon wanted to chase Mathias, not navigate the loops and eddies of etiquette. But this was the fate God had written for him.
"Then I thank you," the alchemist said, and raised his head. He didn't look very happy, and he coughed a bit. "But really, I have plenty of men to lift and carry. However, if you truly own a weapon that can destroy evil-" Leon clenched at Sara, but made no correction "-then, well...there is a spirit."
Leon was not some sort of evil-destroying mercenary. He would destroy monsters he came across, but his true goal was to kill Mathias and end the evil of the vampiric stones. Then both he and Sara could find peace. He was not foolish enough to think he could destroy every creature of darkness himself.
But wicked spirits could cause great damage if left unchecked. A city like this would be full of innocents - women, children, men who had never done more than try to provide for their loved ones. And he did hold a weapon that could destroy evil, no matter what price he had paid to get it.
There was a muffled, shuffling sound behind him, and Leon turned his head just enough to see the children crowded at the door again: the two small ones sneaking peeks from behind their elder brother. One was a boy who watched Leon with naked awe in his eyes, the other a girl who could barely bring herself to look at him.
Leon had seen children hardly older than that mangled in the gutter during the war, their clothes torn and their limbs shattered.
He turned back to the waiting alchemist. "I'll do it," he said, trying to keep the resignation out of his voice. The old man bowed deeply once more, and there was a suspiciously excited noise from behind him. He had the terrible feeling that he had just become the younger boy's personal hero.
Under his hand, Sara pulsed with happiness.
Twenty yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaars! (x2)