the long road
His muscles were becoming uncomfortably tight and the back of his left calf had already cramped up into a solid aching knot. I should have taken the time to stretch more thoroughly before I went running, he acknowledged with a grimace. Kadija had been scolding him about the importance of properly stretching before runs for years; it was a novice level oversight and he really did know better. He drew a deep breath as he straightened his spine and adjusted his stance before exhaling slowly as he bent forward at the hips, wrapping his arms around the backs of his legs to pull himself deeper into the stretch. He pressed his heels down firmly against the plush carpet to further increase the stretch in the backs of his calves and held until he felt the cramping muscles loosen and elongate. He bent his knees and focused on slowly rolling his torso upright. Better. He made his way over to retrieve fresh clothing from his bag, shaking his feet between steps to further loosen up his calves. I might actually be a little sore tomorrow, he noted with a touch of surprise. It had been a while since he’d been able to really push himself while training; there were so many other demands on his time, there wasn’t much left for him to focus on his own training. That’s one positive thing to come out of this trip so far, he mused grimly as he stripped off the clothing he was wearing and pulled on a freshly laundered pair of dark šalvar. Possibly the first so far. It had not escaped his notice that this visit to Italy did not seem to be going especially well for Taline. Her smile looked increasingly strained, and she seemed to be having difficulties with the food, and with Ezio. The mark he’d seen on her wrist that morning bothered him. It’s fine, she’d said in Turkish when he’d asked. She could have spoken Arabic, but instead chose a language they both knew Ezio didn’t speak. He didn’t entirely believe her.
The training whites the elves had provided after his shower at the Rome Motherhouse reeked of the rosemary detergent the Italian branch of the Order used for laundry, the same detergent his aunt used to launder the linens for her brothel. It was distracting. The light scent of rosemary against his skin made him feel unclean. His aunt had her personal linen and the family laundry washed with hyssop, in keeping with the practices of Alamūt, and he preferred the scent of that detergent to any other. It was how clean was supposed to smell.
The private levels of his aunt’s house had been mostly dark when he’d returned from training that evening. He found his aunt in her rooms, nursing a dark mood and a headache poultice. She informed him that tempers had frayed badly over dinner and asked to be left to her rest; her insinuation that the evening would have gone more smoothly if he had been there, as expected, carefully set and resting heavily on his shoulder. There was an effervescent tingling against his skin, a sensation he’d come to associate with Sirocco, and his soul soared at the prospect of seeing her before he realized, with a searing burst of disappointment, that he was only sensing Cesare’s presence. One of his aunt’s elves helpfully informed him that Mari had gone out. It did not say where she’d gone or when she was expected to return. He’d gleaned from his aunt’s sparse account of events that Mari’s sharp tongue had driven Taline from the room during dinner and that Ezio had gone after his wife, following a rather heated exchange with his sister. Presumably they were in their room, perhaps having already retired to their bed for the night. It was illogical how lonely that thought made him.
He felt more than heard someone in the hallway outside his door; a ripple of magic, a whisper of a leather-soled pāpūš against the plush carpet, the faintest taste of violets and ashes and saltwater at the back of his throat. Taline. He held perfectly still, the kameez he’d retrieved from his bag still clenched in his hand, eyes almost closed and breathing shallow, as he focused his attention and magic. She was trying to move undetected, cloaking herself in magic and picking her steps with care, which immediately struck him as suspicious. Taline – it could only have been Taline in the hallway – was a guest in his aunt’s house, not a prisoner; there was nothing preventing her from freely going wherever she desired.
Unless she’s running away.
He abruptly pulled the kameez over his head and slid his bare feet into his časbaks. His blades were half-drawn to signal Ezio before he thought better of it; if Taline was in fact running away, it was undoubtedly Ezio she was fleeing. He sheathed his blades and slipped out into the darkened and seemingly empty hallway, willing his eyes into the second sight.
Her magic – like the energy of all living things – had left a trail, visible with Eagle Vision for a brief window before it became too faded to follow. Taline’s trail, a hazy-soft shade of aqua, was already dissipating rapidly from the cloaking spell she’d cast. The particular obscurus she’d used was unlike any other he’d previously encountered. A true hybrid of Assassin and Cathar magics, he noted as he cast his own cloak. Impressive. It was also an uncomfortable reminder that Taline now knew far too much about the Assassins’ magic and ways to ever be allowed to leave the Order’s protection. Even had his duty to their family not compelled him to go after her, his loyalty to the Order left him with no other choice.
He sighted her almost immediately upon exiting the palazzo. She was wearing a dark skirt and thick black stockings under a long charcoal coat, with a black veil over her hair and Ezio’s leather messenger bag slung across her body. He followed her from a safe distance, more out of habit and curiosity than from any real need to remain undetected, as she made her way further and further from Villa Auditore. She didn’t seem to be heading towards a specific destination so much as trying to get as far away as possible from places she associated with Ezio and the Order. The troubles in their marriage must not only be recent.
The thought bothered him deeply; he and Taline had spent one evening a week in each other’s company, chatting and sharing a meal, for months at this point, and yet she had never mentioned any serious difficulties with Ezio. Did I miss something? Did she ask for my assistance and I somehow didn’t understand what she was saying? He shuffled through his memory searching for signs, something he might have missed. She had attributed any bruises he’d seen to the rambunctious and sometimes overenthusiastic toddlers she taught in the mornings, and blamed grading her older students’ essays if she seemed tired or distracted. After years of being a Master, and contending with both the volume of paperwork required and the occasional injuries inflicted by sloppy and over-enthusiastic students, her explanations had seemed perfectly reasonable and entirely plausible. No, there hadn’t been any reason for him to suspect she was being mistreated or made unhappy, but still the doubt, and guilt, gnawed.
Eventually, Taline must have begun to suspect that she was being followed. He hadn’t really been exerting any extra effort to evade detection beyond the usual care he took when moving among kuffār populations, but she had begun looking over her shoulder more and more frequently, abruptly doubling back at random, and making an even greater effort to cloak herself in the shadows. Perhaps this evenings’ training was more tiring than I had thought. He could have easily cast the cloak he used on contracts, fallen further back and used the Order’s second sight to track her, but it didn’t really feel worth the effort; he would have to fetch her back to his aunt’s villa before much further anyway. The streets were largely deserted, save for the occasional meandering drunk and a handful of mongrel dogs out scavenging for scraps, but he could tell they’d reached the edges of one of Rome’s poorer neighborhoods.
Despite all the other differences in culture and geography, the trappings of poverty were fairly consistent across all the grand cities he’d seen. The single-family homes and elegant apartment buildings around Villa Auditore became progressively smaller and shabbier as they moved down the social strata, eventually giving way to eerily silent tenements with peeling paint and broken windows. Even at that late hour, the cold air was thick with the scents of poorly tended fires, decaying architecture, and too many people packed into too small spaces, all underlain with a nearly palpable undercurrent of anxiety and desperation. Desperate people, with little to nothing to lose, could be very dangerous.
Taline abruptly stopped just ahead of him and he fell back a few steps to melt into deeper shadows out of habit. The pulse of magic she emitted rippled around him, despite his cloaking spell, and he knew that she had felt the disruption. It was beautifully done magic.
“Who’s there?” she demanded. “Who’s been following me? Show yourself.” Her voice was clear and carrying, even though she had spoken in barely more than a whisper. She repeated herself in proper Turkish, and then again in a Turkic dialect he couldn’t quite understand. It didn’t sound like Armenian, but he wasn’t familiar enough with that language to be sure. The following silence as she waited for a response to her hails had the feeling of a tension cable being stretched beyond its tolerance until the many individual threads comprising it began to fail under the overwhelming forces being exerted. He could feel the moment when that cable would finally snap, the inevitable event horizon of this encounter, rushing towards him as Taline purposefully walked to the center of the crossroads just ahead of them where she then stopped and surveyed her surroundings again.
“Altaïr,” she finally called, louder than she had before. “It could only be you who’s been following me. Show yourself.”
The final threads were separating. Whatever forces the cable had been holding were about to be unleashed. He drew a deep breath into his lungs, clearing his mind of white noise and draining away any emotion he might have felt until nothing remained but the slow steady beat of his heart reverberating through the emptiness of his chest. He released his cloak and stepped out of the shadows.
“Yes, Taline. I am here.” He approached her carefully, as he would an unfamiliar thestral or wild creature. “It is not safe for you to walk alone in this city, especially so late at night. Come, let me escort you back to my aunt’s house.”
“How did you find me so quickly?” she demanded, ignoring his suggestion that they return to Villa Auditore. Her voice was tight and sharp and shaded with fear or panic, or perhaps an amalgam of those emotions plus something else more dangerous, he wasn’t sure. In uncertainty lies infinite possibility. He could almost feel the words engraved inside the band of his Ferryman’s Ring against his skin; his mother’s motto, her warning.
His senses prickled, warning, as her hand slid into the pocket of her coat. Reaching for what, he wondered, slowing his approach when he was two arm’s lengths away. She’s never had a wand. Taline fell back a step as he drew closer and he stopped.
“I felt your magic as you were leaving my aunt’s house,” he answered softly, tone pitched low and even, purposefully soothing. “And I followed to make sure you don’t come to any harm.” He watched her for a moment, trying to gauge the tenor and pitch of her emotions, and eased a half step closer. “You’re shivering, habibti. Surely you don’t want to stay out in the cold all night. Let us return to-”
“No,” she whispered, eyes wide and wild as she drew something out of her pocket. The straight razor’s blade gleamed dully in the waxing moonlight. “I’m sorry, Altaïr. Please, just let me go.”
He rolled his weight back onto his heel and flicked his eyes over the blade clenched in her hand. Her grip is improper for any attack except a downward slash. The blade is being held too tightly for her to alter her grip without dropping it. Little to no experience wielding a bladed weapon. Cathari. Attacks must be deflected rather than met to avoid causing her harm.
“Put that away, Taline,” he murmured softly, splaying his hands in a staying gesture. “We both know that you aren’t skillful enough with a blade to deter me.”
She leveled her gaze at him and her shoulders slumped slightly, the razor beginning to droop in her now limp grip. “You’re right, of course. You’re far too experienced for this to be of any use against you,” she replied, tone chillingly flat, listless.
He took a cautious step towards her, and then another. Taking that second step, so quickly after the first, he realized – too late – had been a grave miscalculation. Taline’s previously loosening grip suddenly clenched tightly again as she swung the razor up to her own throat, checking its movement the last moment before contact.
“I’m not going back. Don’t force my hand,” she warned, accent thickening as her carefully constructed composure began to unravel. “Just let me go, Altaïr!”
He had misjudged the situation, badly. Mal would have known what to do, what to say. Mal never would have let things with Ezio get this out of hand, he chastised himself as a fresh wave of grief and frustration and something almost like fear washed over him. Mal wouldn’t have let his happen.
“Put the blade away, habibti,” he coaxed, switching from Arabic to Turkish, as he inched closer. Full body bind? Blade’s too close to her jugular; any sudden pressure might cause it to cut. “No one wants you to be harmed-”
“Don’t you?” she demanded shrilly. Her whole body was beginning to tremble, the hand holding the razon to her throat unsteady. “What do you think will happen after you’ve taken me back?”
“I think everyone – especially Ezio – will be relieved to see your safe return,” he replied carefully. “I know he’ll be sick with worry as soon as he realizes that you’ve gone out on your own-”
“Stop! Stay away,” she choked out, taking another step back from him. A thin trickle of blood, black in the moonlight, traced its way down the side of her throat.
She’s nicked herself. He froze, calculating the distance between them and the probability of his being able to disarm her before she injured herself further. There was an uncomfortably wide margin of uncertainty to his calculations.
“He took a contract to kill my entire family,” she continued, now actually crying. “How much longer do I have until he finishes the job? How long until he’s tired of me? I hate this place! I want to go home.”
He found her words more alarming than her tears, although the fact that she was also now crying, sobbing, made him uneasy as well. Emotionally untethered people were dangerous, prone to making sudden and irrational decisions.
“Where is home, habibti? Will you let me take you there?” he asked softly, weighing the risks before edging slightly closer again.
“Home?” she repeated vaguely, shoulders rolling inwards as her free hand snaked down to splay against her abdomen. “I don’t have a home anymore; they’re all gone. Nothing’s left there for me, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. I can never go home.” Her eyes widened, the irises deep and dark and haunted. “He, he killed them all – I killed them all. I killed them and I’m sorry; so, so sorry, Uncle. Please. I’m sorry-”
“Who are you apologizing to, Taline? Whose forgiveness do you think you need?”
The way she was cradling her lower abdomen was worrying. The tension in her posture suggested that she was experiencing pain; he hoped it was only psychological. He knew enough to know that abdominal pain was generally not a good sign in pregnant women, especially not at this stage in a pregnancy. Taline had to have known at least that much as well; undoubtedly her knowledge in that sphere far surpassed his own.
“Is something wrong? Are you in pain? Will you let-”
“Stop right there! Don’t force my hand,” she warned, teeth bared and breathing jagged.
Stress response. Most likely caused by extreme emotional and perhaps also physical pain, he clinically noted as a coil of something swelled and twisted tighter between his stomach and hyoid. Distract and disarm, then access her medical situation. Immediate conveyance to a medic following disarmament advisable or possibly necessary.
“I just want to help you,” he stressed, gliding fractionally closer. He was almost close enough to safely take the razor from her, so long as she didn’t back away again. “Think about what would happen to your baby, if you came to any harm. Let me help you, Taline.”
She leaned forward slightly, away from the razor, expression twisting unmistakably into a grimace as she clutched her lower abdomen. He seized his opportunity.
“No! I have to get away, before he finishes the contract. Please, Altaïr,” she sobbed as he grabbed her wrist and manually depressed her tendons, forcing her to drop the razor.
“What contract, Taline? Who are you so afraid of?” He retrieved the straight razor and clumsily closed it one handed before slipping it into his pocket, his other hand still gripping Taline’s wrist to prevent her from either making a grab for the blade or trying to flee.
Her only response was to sob harder as she wrapped her free arm around her abdomen, shoulders rolling inward until she was nearly doubled over.
Lower abdominal pain, probably quite severe, he noted with an uncomfortable flutter of something he didn’t bother trying to identify beyond recognizing that it wasn’t useful to the situation. She needs to be assessed by a medic, as soon as possible. He released her wrist and drew his blades.
“No!” she croaked, seizing his arm and preventing him from scraping his blades in summoning. “Let him have his freedom and me my life. Please Altaïr, don’t force me to go back where I’m unwanted.”
She’s afraid of Ezio. He cursed himself for not noticing that something was going wrong in his cousin’s marriage sooner, for failing to protect Taline or help Ezio before the situation was allowed to deteriorate so badly. Mal wouldn’t have let this happen.
“You need to see a medic-”
“No! No more strangers touching me-” she shuddered, stumbled as she backed away and he quickly closed the space she’d opened between them, catching hold of her upper arm to steady her. She half-heartedly twisted her arm but was unable to break his grip.
“I won’t stay in Granmaestro’s charnel house. Monsters watching me with their dead eyes, judging and looking down like I’m something lesser-”
“Let me take you straight to Alamūt then,” he interrupted as he tried to draw her out of the middle of the street. “You trust the medics there, don’t you? You’ll have your friends, and Kadija and I, to look after you and your baby. Come, it isn’t safe to linger here.”
She dug her heels in and resisted his attempt to move her, black bleeding into the whites of her eyes. Cathari.
“We go straight to Alamūt, not to any Auditores or any other contacts with Rome Assassins,” she stipulated, voice pitching lower as her magic bled through and expression taught with pain.
He clenched his teeth; his aunt wouldn’t like them leaving without informing her. But she’ll be far more upset if any harm comes to Taline or the baby that would have been prevented by agreeing to those terms. It wasn’t really a choice.
“Agreed.”
He pulled his arm from her grasp and scraped his blades to summon an elf; usually he used his heel, but at their current location, a summons with his blades was more certain to get a prompt response and Taline looked increasingly unwell.
“That looks heavy, let me carry it for you,” he said, motioning to Ezio’s bag, which had shifted when she’d doubled over and now hung, still swinging slightly, with the strap cutting across her back at an awkward angle. “At the very least it looks uncomfortable,” he continued as he hooked a hand under the strap and lifted it.
The bag was lighter than he’d expected. Some sort of charm? Most likely her doing, that sort of solution wouldn’t have occurred to Ezio. It wasn’t that he thought his cousin wasn’t resourceful, or clever enough to have thought to cast that sort of practical charm; Ezio had always been as strong as an ox – big boned with heavy musculature – and even at its heaviest, the bulk of the bag would be inconsequential for him.
Being out in the open with an emotionally unstable Cathar in an area packed with kuffār was starting to make him uneasy; it was only a matter of time before they drew too much unwanted attention. What’s taking the elves so long? He resisted the urge to jog his hip as he watched Taline, who was starting to look suspiciously pale. Is it just the light, or is she bleeding internally? He couldn’t tell. Kadija would know, she’s so much better with this sort of thing. It felt childish to want his sister’s presence as desperately as he did.
He’d almost decided to send another summons when an elf appeared, bleary-eyed and histrionically apologetic. It must have been asleep.
“You are not in any trouble. There’s nothing to forgive,” he told it, his tone shaded with more impatience than he found acceptable. “The Khanum and I must return to Alamūt immediately. Take us to the mirror roads.”
The elf hesitated a moment, its large round eyes rolling from himself to Taline and back again.
Not to medic? it hesitantly signed.
He clenched his teeth and drew a carefully measured breath. While he agreed with the elf that Taline would be best served by going straight to the medics, forcing her there by deceit would destroy the fragile trust he’d worked so assiduously to foster, which was not a viable option.
“No.” He glanced at Taline, noting her alarmingly pale face, her expression tightly drawn in pain, and felt a coil of uncertainty twist tighter in his gut. Her eyes had blown almost completely black and her magic was roiling over his skin, even with the few feet between them. Desperate or frightened people are dangerous, my treasure, his mother had often told him, voice low and caressing as she stalked her target and he trailed after her, trying not to lose her or cling too closely. People who feel that they have nothing else to lose have only everything to gain. He curled his fingers to press his thumb against the side of his Ferryman’s Ring and exhaled slowly. The place on the inside of his thigh, where he’d cut himself the day before last, ached, the wound stretched tight and burning.
“As I said, take us to the mirror roads. The Khanum and I must return to Alamūt immediately,” he repeated, placing each word with care. “Speak of this to no one without my leave.” Keep it secret. Keep her safe, he signed. Tell no one.
The elf blinked slowly, then tipped its chin in the barest nod. Secret. Safe, it signed, and he felt the knot in his stomach loosen slightly.
“What are you telling him but not me?” Taline demanded, stepping back from the elf’s proffered hand. “What trick are you trying?”
He clenched his teeth and cursed himself for his stupidity. Of course she would immediately be suspicious of what he had signed to the elf; were their situations reversed, he’d have found that exchange incredibly suspect as well. Stupid, foolish way to jeopardize everything. Mal, Kadija, even Ezio, would have known better.
No trick! the elf signed over and over, each time becoming more visibly shaken, anxious.
“The elf asked if you should be taken to the medics,” he explained, his words coming out flintier than intended from the effort to keep his tone pitched low and slow and even. “It is concerned for your well-being, as am I.” He paused to measure the effect of his words; she appeared wary, but receptive. Allāhu akbar. “You heard what I told it, and what I signed was keep it secret, keep her safe and tell no one, he continued, signing the words as he spoke them. “I wasn’t trying to trick you, please believe me.”
The elf nodded its emphatic agreement beside him.
“Against my better judgment, I have agreed to your terms, Taline,” he continued when she remained silent, wary, her eyes averted from him. “In truth, my first choice would be for you to be examined immediately by the nearest medic – you seem unwell, and my primary concern is your health and safety, as well as that of your child. But you have made your desire to be as far from Italy as soon as possible abundantly clear, leaving me no choice but to trust you to decide what is best for yourself.”
“Thank you,” she replied reaching for the elf’s hand. “We should go now, it’s getting early.”
He watched the elf wrap its spindly fingers around Taline’s daintily proffered hand before it turned and reached for him. He would have preferred to return to Rome’s Motherhouse on his own – the sensation of the elves’ magic when they vanished was decidedly unpleasant – but it was the fastest means to the Mirror Roads, and Taline looked less well with each passing moment.
“It is,” he agreed, taking the elf’s hand and girding himself against the imminent discomfort. Peace be upon you for what you patiently endured. And excellent is the final home.[1]
“Thank you, Kobilić, for your service,” he murmured stroking along the stallion’s jaw.
The thestral blew hard through its nostrils in response, scraping a sharp hoof against the hard-packed ground of the Mirror Roads as it turned its head to fix a milky eye on Taline. She managed a brittle smile that resembled a grimace more than anything else as she clutched the strap of Ezio’s bag to her chest in a white-knuckled grip. The metallic tang of blood hung so heavily in the air around her he could almost taste it at the back of his throat every time he inhaled; the scent of it was agitating Kobilić.
“Yes, thank you, horsey,” she croaked, reaching over to stroke the thestral’s neck. Kobilić shied back from her touch, tossing his head and rearing slightly and Taline almost stumbled in her haste to back away. He was able to catch her and steady her footing quickly, but his exhausted muscles burned from the sudden movement and extension.
“We need to get you to the medics; you’re bleeding. Thestrals may eat only meat, but the scent of magic in our blood disquiets them.”
“Did you see that with your special sight?” she asked sullenly, trying to shrug his hand off her upper back as he escorted her through the closest mirror. He swallowed a sigh and released her as soon as they entered Alamūt’s Mirror Room.
“I know how thestrals respond to the scent of our blood; I can smell it on you myself as well.” He stamped for an elf. “Are you able to tolerate being vanished again? We need to get you to the infirmary immediately.”
“I can tolerate another vanishing,” she replied through tight lips, her skin alarmingly pale and misted with perspiration.
She looks much worse. He resisted the urge to fidget, to pace; he felt so impatient, so unsure. Should I have forced her to the medics in Rome? The exhaustion and uncertainty, the hours spent traveling in a silence fraught with tension and fear, were beginning to weigh heavily on his shoulders as he drew his blades and concentrated as he scraped edge against edge. Asad. He waited what felt like ages for the Medic’s acknowledging tremor before concentrating harder and scraping his blades again. Asad. He startled at the sound of the elf’s arrival.
“Take us to the Infirmary, the Khanum is unwell and must be seen by the medics at once,” he commanded it, his blades now humming from Asad’s unmistakably annoyed acknowledgment.
Asad was waiting for them in the Infirmary’s foyer, looking appreciably more exhausted than usual, his ever-present coffee cup clenched in a white knuckled grip. Taline staggered and dropped to her knees upon their arrival; the elf was not especially skillful and the vanishing had not been smooth.
“Damn elf,” Asad muttered, shoving his coffee into the cringing elf’s outstretched hands as he moved to help Taline, who was now retching saliva and air onto the previously pristine floor while clutching her abdomen. “Don’t transport people here until you’ve mastered that spell. The last thing a sick or wounded person needs piled on them is the after effects of a poorly cast vanishing.”
A second elf appeared, bearing a phial of bright yellow potion which he immediately recognized as the Order’s standard anti-emesis draught, which it offered to Taline after a curt nod from Asad, who had finished his initial assessment and was scraping his blades, presumably to summon additional medics. Taline was now huddled on the floor and sobbing with an alarming lack of restraint while clutching her lower abdomen with one hand and trying to fend off the insistent elf with the other.
“Relax, relax. We’re here to help you, Taline; you’re safe. Breathe in … and out, that’s a good girl. Deep breaths,” Asad was saying over and over, tone pitched low as he gripped Taline’s wrist and tried to take her pulse. A pair of novitiates had arrived, seeming to have appeared out of thin air, and glided, rather than walked, over to Taline. He appreciated the amount of training and effort the medics must have spent to have made the effect seem so effortless.
“You must have had one hell of a night, but it’s over now, yes?” Asad was saying to Taline, whose tears seemed to be tapering off. “It’s going to be okay, deep breaths. These ladies are going to take care of you for a bit, and then either I or one of the other senior medics will be in to check on you shortly, okay?”
She jerked a brief nod in response and allowed the medics to help her rise; her breathing was harder than expected from the effort, unsteady, sharply indrawn and held a heartbeat longer than she usually would before exhaling. She hesitated when the medics tried to escort her deeper into the infirmary, casting a speaking glance back at him.
“Thank you,” she murmured in Turkish, so softly the medics around them didn’t seem to have noticed that she’d spoken.
“I would sacrifice myself for you, may you be well,” he responded softly, also in Turkish.
The Medics noticed his response – Asad cutting a speculative look from him to Taline and back again, hard sharp glances from the novitiates drawing Taline away – and it suddenly struck him as that much stranger that apparently only he had heard Taline’s whispered thanks. Asad reclaimed his coffee and dismissed both elves with a sharp jab of his chin before returning his attention to observing Taline as she was led from the foyer. He drained the cup with a weary sigh and drew his blade with a well-practiced flick of his wrist to refill it.
“Hekim-” he murmured in an undertone, so as to not draw Taline’s attention, even though she was already at least a dozen feet away from them and being spoken to by the Medics escorting her.
“There are other medics here, you know – many of whom are, in fact, also very good at what we do – there was no need to summon me, Effendi,” Asad interrupted him with a narrowed eyed look. “My specialties are emergency care and general surgery, not women’s reproductive health-”
“You were summoned specifically because Ezio trusts you,” he cut across the irritated medic, fingers curling to strengthen the silence he’d cast around them. The hour was still quite early, but he was uncomfortable with the information he needed to convey and wary of it being overheard. “And because I know your discretion, and ability to navigate delicate situations, to be exemplary.”
“Have you recently taken a knock to the head, Effendi, or perhaps are feeling a touch feverish? It’s not like you to be so effusive, and your color looks a little off,” Asad responded wryly after a moment before taking another deep drink of coffee. “Presumably the silence you’ve cast is related to whatever delicate situation you’re about to dump in my lap?”
He forced himself to exhale slowly through his nose, fingers tightening around Ezio’s straight razor in his pocket. Excellent is the final home.
“Taline must not be left alone – for any reason, or any amount of time – she is not well and may try to harm herself if allowed the opportunity-” he said slowly, placing each word carefully, one after another, like bricks comprising a defensive wall, as any hint of humor blanched from Asad’s face.
“Where’s Ezio?” Asad demanded. “Why isn’t he with you? What happened?”
A splash of Asad’s coffee landed on the floor between them, a single drop of liquid split into so many myriad points emanating outwards from the initial point of impact. He studied the pattern silently as he gathered his thoughts and weighed the words he wanted to use. Asad sighed at his lack of immediate response to the jumble of overlapping questions he’d been asked and impatiently vanished the spill.
“Effendi?”
“I believe Ezio is the harm Taline may need protection from.” Saying it aloud, to another person, felt surreal, treacherous, but the desperation in Taline’s eyes at the prospect of being taken back to Ezio haunted him. “She was running away. I was able to convince her to return with me only when she began experiencing severe lower abdominal pain, and even then, only after I had given my word that I would bring her straight here, not to Ezio. She had this to her throat.” He removed Ezio’s straight razor from his pocket and held it out to Asad. “Check the side of her neck and you’ll see where she nicked herself, before I was able to take it away.”
Asad extended his hand towards the proffered razor slowly, expression grim and taut with something as he finally took it in hand.
“What you are saying is very concerning to me,” Asad said, tone brimming with what he took to be hesitation. “And I know you to be nothing if not precise and scrupulously honest, Effendi. But I’ve also always known Ezio to be a kind man, and generous to those under his care. He is a very loving person, and what you are telling me does not match the man I think I know. Is there something more you’ve not told me? Some other factor that would help explain this situation?”
He drew a careful breath and held it for a long moment as he sifted through the possible answers he could give, the ways he could equivocate, before settling on directness and naked honesty. Sometimes we must be a little unkind to those we love, Malik had told him once. A small sting to spare graver injury later. That is love, Aquila.
“He is not always the man you describe when he has been drinking,” he replied. “And I believe he has been drinking too much, too frequently. Not just in Rome,” he added softly.
Asad’s lips thinned as his expression twisted with a grimace.
“God damn it, Ezio. I’ve warned him against his drinking. I thought, maybe, after the incident last fall, he’d finally reel it in. And with his new wife…” Asad sighed and pocketed the straight razor. “He seems so much happier, with her. I thought he was drinking less, or at the very least that it was under control.”
“She has bruises, on her arms. Possibly other places as well. I do not know; it is not my place to check.”
Asad sighed again, more deeply than he had previously, and scrubbed the hand not gripping his coffee across his face.
“My lungs won’t thank you later for dumping this mare’s nest in my lap with no warning. I’ve only got 36 hours until my next 96-hour rotation, and it looks like I’ll be spending at least 30 of those precious, precious hours trying to sort this mess out,” he grumbled. “I should tell my colleagues to expect Ezio barging in and roaring for his wife like a rage-blind bull, yes?”
“My aunt is not aware that I have escorted Taline back to Alamūt, and she likewise would not be aware of the medical situation or its potential severity,” he brusquely replied. “But I intend to send a message to her immediately after I confer with Kadija Effendi. Therefore, the soonest Ezio could possibly arrive is at least eight hours from now.”
The insides of his thighs burned, the wounds there tight and tender, both from the ride back to Alamūt and long run he’d taken after a full day of training. He was also becoming alarmingly lightheaded, presumably from the exertions of the last twelve hours, and he hadn’t actually slept in well over twenty-four hours. He clenched his teeth and drew a careful breath, focusing on suppressing his body’s response to those distractions and his ensuing discomfort. You must always strive to be greater than your weakness, to move beyond your perceived limitations, my treasure.
“If, in your judgment, Ezio’s presence may be detrimental to Taline’s immediate care, I will indicate such to my aunt and request that she delay his departure,” he continued stiffly, tone carefully tempered. He really wasn’t looking forward to informing his aunt of the situation, but she would be furious if she received the news from another source, especially one outside the family. There remained a very remote possibility that Taline’s and his absence had not yet been noticed, but it was far more likely that his aunt and Ezio were already experiencing considerable distress and it was cruel to withhold critical information simply because conveying it was onerous or unpleasant.
“God forgive me for saying this,” Asad sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “But, yes. If any of what you suspect about their relationship is correct, Taline’s immediate prognosis will undoubtedly be improved by knowing that Ezio is not nearby. I’m going to order access to her be restricted to medical personnel only, unless she specifically requests someone, as an additional safeguard.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before leveling a penetrating look at him. “Forgive my directness, Effendi, but you look a little unwell yourself. I can send a summons to Kadija Effendi if you would like to rest here for a short while, perhaps while receiving some nutrients and IV fluids?”
He gritted his teeth into something like a smile. “No, thank you, Hekim. That will not be necessary.”
Asad made a skeptical sound at the back of his throat, reached over to pinch the skin on the back of his hand and pulled up before abruptly releasing it. They both watched as his skin slid slowly back into place.
“You’re dehydrated, Effendi. And your color is off,” Asad informed him bluntly. “If you weren’t a Master, I would order you admitted for at least a few hours of observation and have an IV inserted immediately.”
“But I am a Master, and your authority to order my involuntary treatment is limited,” he retorted, flexing his hand. “Allāhu akbar.” He allowed himself to sigh at the way Asad’s eyes narrowed at the reminder. “I will eat and drink and rest, Hekim, but after I have fulfilled my duty, not before. What should I tell my aunt of Taline’s medical situation? I want my report to be accurate.”
Asad grimaced in response and took a deep drink of coffee.
“Go find Kadija Effendi, it may take even you a while if she’s already gone to the training grounds,” Asad sighed. “I’ll send an elf with my recommendation of what to tell your aunt after Taline’s condition has been properly assessed.”
It was later than he’d expected it to be when he left the infirmary; the sky had already brightened past the gentle rose and golden hues of coming dawn into the confident azure and gold of early morning. Kadija almost certainly would be somewhere in the training grounds. He closed his eyes, concentrated, and scraped his blades.
Kadija…
Her nearly instantaneous response thrummed through his blades; she wasn’t far enough from him to be in the training grounds. She must either be with Al Mualim, or already coming to the infirmary for some reason. He willed his vision into the second sight and opened his eyes.
The Assassins around him glowed varying shades and intensities of blue, their auras rippling softly like fish scales through sunlit water. Tiny golden particulates floated weightlessly in the air as far as he could see in every direction, flowing slowly like dust motes or pollen along imperceptible currents and glowing with the distant light of miniscule stars. The tracking magic made Kadija’s aura larger and brighter, her usual rich vibrant blue now heavily painted with golden light, and a densening current of golden dust flowed towards her location, leading him into the Garden. She was standing with Al Mualim beside his mother’s favorite of the Garden’s many fountains, the one where he could almost hear an echo of her laughter in the gurgling water if he held perfectly still and listened hard enough.
Altaïr…
“Altaïr!” Kadija’s tone clearly indicated her annoyance at having to repeat herself, and he released the Eagle Vision with a slight shake of his head. “What are you doing here? Has something happened to-”
“Peace, Kadija,” Al Mualim brusquely interrupted. “Your brother is weary from hard travel and lack of rest, not the weight of dire tidings. Maria is not unwell, I trust?”
“No, Efendim; she is well,” he dutifully replied. “I returned with Taline and have placed her in the Medics’ care. We left very late last night because she felt unwell and was desperate to escape Rome.”
“Where is Ezio Effendi? Why is he not with you? Surely he wouldn’t have agreed for his wife to return without him.” Al Mualim’s tone was alarmingly calm.
“He did not agree, Efendim,” Kadija surmised with a critically arched brow. “My brother did not get permission before he took Ezio’s wife away from Rome. Isn’t that so, Altaïr?”
He clenched his teeth at the implicit criticism in her tone and waited three slow heartbeats before responding. While he hadn’t expected the conversation to be particularly pleasant, he hadn’t anticipated it going this poorly, either.
“I was unable to inform Aunt Maria or Ezio before our departure,” he carefully equivocated. “Taline was in considerable distress and refused to be tended by the medics in Rome. It was a precondition of her cooperation that we leave immediately without informing anyone.”
“And where was Ezio Effendi while all this was unfolding?” Al Mualim inquired coolly, folding his hands over the top of his cane.
“I did not know, Efendim…” Confessing his concerns over Ezio’s drinking to Asad was one thing, repeating those concerns directly to Al Mualim was another entirely, and he was incredibly uncomfortable doing so.
“My brother cleaning up our cousins’ messes is not novel, Efendim,” Kadija cut in smoothly, signaling with her eyes for him to remain silent and allow her to finesse the line of Al Mualim’s inquiry towards a less compromising aspect of the situation. He blinked once slowly to indicate that her command had been understood.
“May I have an hour’s leave of my duties to attend to these family matters?” she continued, tone as smooth and cool as the water flowing through the fountain behind them. “As you so noted, my brother has had little opportunity for self-care or rest in the last thirty hours or more. I would like to tend to him, and to our cousin in the infirmary, myself. It is what our mother would expect of me, had she not fallen.”
Kadija’s direct reference to their mother stung like a sharp and unexpected sliver of shrapnel through his soul.
“Yes,” Al Mualim replied slowly, tipping his chin slightly as he massaged the back of the hand gripping his cane with the other. “Aaliyah’s devotion to the Order was matched only by that she felt towards her family. It is only right that you and your brother should be the same.”
The Mentor looked towards the fountain beside them, his expression softened and distant, faintly tinged with some deeper sadness that he didn’t understand but Kadija probably did. The quiet reverie passed in a moment and Al Mualim turned his face back to the conversation at hand. He sometimes wondered what the elderly Mentor saw when he looked at people or things, how much of his sight was dependent on Eagle Vision and memories to fill in the gaps and details his scarred eyes could no longer perceive.
“An hour does not seem time enough to tend these tasks, my child. Take as much as needed. I’m sure Selim, at least, will be willing to see to your students this morning, given the circumstances.” Al Mualim sighed and shifted his attention from Kadija to him, repositioning his grip on his cane and elongating his spine. “Altaïr, you will resume your usual duties tomorrow. I see no reason for you to return to Italy. Your aunt, undoubtedly, will come to us shortly.”
“Yes, of course, Efendim,” he murmured, bowing slightly. “My life is in service to the Order. I will see Al Mualim’s will done.”
“Thank you, Efendim. My brother and I are grateful, as always, for the kindness you bestow upon us,” Kadija murmured, flicking her eyes at him in a command to remain silent. “I think it will comfort Taline greatly to be reminded that her position within our family and the Order is secure, and that her safety is guaranteed, not only by my brother and myself, but by Al Mualim as well,” she continued, tone beautifully tempered.
She reminded him so strongly of their aunt in that moment. He was struck by how skillfully she simulated Maria’s gift for disguising commands as supplications or suggestions. Some similar recognition must have occurred to the elderly mentor as well, and his milky-white eyes glowed strong and sudden gold as he contemplated the two of them for a long moment before speaking.
“Taline has not taken our vows. She, however, remains a valued guest of the Order, and her safety as such, of course, is guaranteed,” Al Mualim finally replied severely. “We are not kuffār savages, given to barbarism and honorless ways.”
“We are all aware, Taline as well, that there is a more accurate word than guest for an individual held apart from the Order but not allowed to leave, Efendim,” Kadija rejoined softly. “I am merely suggesting she be reminded that Ezio is not her only source of protection, lest she becomes a desperate and frightened wolf being held by its ears.”
“Kadija’s caution is not unfounded, Efendim,” he added after Kadija had blinked once slowly in response to his questioning glance. “Taline became frightened of the Assassins in Rome after she’d learned that fidā'ī could recognize her as Cathari.”
Al Mualim sighed tiredly. “As we all knew would one day happen. That information will rapidly spread throughout the Order, it is impossible for any to command otherwise.” He sighed again. “This is exactly why our prohibitions against such marriages exist, and the situation must now be addressed.” The Mentor frowned down at his hands folded over his cane as he seemed to consider the various courses of action available to him before finally arriving at his decision.
“You may assure your cousin of my protection as well as your own when you speak with her. You may also inform her that I will not allow any adverse treatment towards her for being Cathari, so long as she continues to conform to the conduct the Order demands of its members. I will inform my Grandmasters of these unique circumstances and the Order’s position on them. While all may not immediately understand or agree with my decision, they will obey it. Now leave me, I wish to be alone with my thoughts. Safety and peace be upon you.”
“Safety and peace,” he and Kadija responded nearly in unison as they bowed and took their leave.
“What were you not telling Al Mualim,” Kadija demanded in a low undertone once they neared the Garden’s entrance. “He knows you were withholding information from him. You’ve never been any good at hiding things from either of us; we know you too well, Aquila.”
He exhaled deeply and absently scratched at the sharp stubble along his jaw. Even with the specifically formulated lotion that inhibited hair regrowth he always applied after he shaved, his beard grew in more quickly than he would have liked. The only thing preventing him from having Nisrin sugar his face as well as his body was that the hair had to reach a minimum length before it could be removed, and he couldn’t tolerate the wait. Nisrin sometimes teased him about that gently, telling him that many women would find him even more handsome with unkempt stubble darkening his jawline. Like some troubled Byronic hero, she had said the last time it came up with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes more often seen in teenagers than women over forty. He wasn’t interested in appearing handsome to anyone except Sirocco. And his aunt, but only because she so valued male beauty, and would be offended if she felt that he didn’t consider her feelings on the subject important enough to make the effort. All he wanted for himself was to be clean and well-groomed.
“Tell me, Aquila,” she demanded at his silence.
“Taline is frightened of Ezio,” he grudgingly supplied. “She believes that he will harm her and fled our aunt’s house with the intention of escaping him. While her fears seem disproportionate, I cannot dismiss them as all together unfounded.”
“Why not?”
He sighed and folded his hands together behind his back, forced himself to stand completely still when what he really felt like doing was fidgeting and pacing out his discomfort, or better still, going to his bed and sleeping until the situation resolved itself. But since he could not do either of those things, he forced himself to stand straight and still and provide the information his sister demanded from him. He did allow himself to address his answers to her boots rather than meeting her eyes. It was a relatively small concession.
“I heard Ezio raising his voice at her this – excuse me – yesterday morning. I entered their room to assess the situation and observed a fresh mark on Taline’s wrist where he’d laid hand on her-”
“Laid hand on her in what way?”
He drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “He gripped her wrist hard enough to cause light to mild bruising, but I don’t think he had any intent to harm her. They had been arguing, there were marks on her upper arms as well. His left cheek was reddened and his bottom lip looked a little swollen. I believe that he had drank past the point of intoxication the previous evening. I am also informed that he ordered a purifying elixir as soon as he got out of bed that morning.”
Kadija sighed into her hands as she scrubbed them across her face.
“So his drinking is becoming a problem again.” She sighed again and absently scraped her nails across her scalp. “It’s only a matter of time before it starts affecting his work, if it hasn’t already. And it’s already damaging his marriage. Audhu billah, what a mess.”
He was in complete agreement with her assessment, but it felt unnecessary to say anything so he held his silence and watched his sister fidget with her blades and scrub her fingers up the back of her neck and over her scalp while she decided what to do with the information he’d just supplied. She finally leveled her gaze at him and her mouth twisted like she was trying to smile while holding something extremely sour under her tongue.
“Go to bed, Aquila,” she ordered.
He shook his head and immediately regretted the gesture as the world around him momentarily darkened and tilted off kilter. “I can’t. I have to wait for Asad to send word of Taline’s condition. I need to-”
“You need to do as you’re told,” she cut across him, the firmness of her tone juxtaposed against the gentleness of the hand she cupped against his cheek. “You look half dead on your feet, jeegaram,” she continued. “Go to bed. I’ll inform Aunt Maria of the situation, and I’ll have an elf bring a tray of food for you and your cat. You should also write to Aunt Maria, but after you’ve gotten some sleep. Any letter you try to write now will just be an unintelligible hash. Come, let’s get you into bed.”
He hadn’t realized that they’d been walking until he half stumbled over the threshold of his chambers. His rooms were mostly how he’d left them, although a few smaller items had been moved slightly, undoubtedly replaced by the elves after his cat had either knocked them over or completely off the surface where he’d set them. There was no indication of any other occupant or visitor.
“Did any letters come for me? While I was away?” he asked as he checked his cat’s favorite hiding places. “Where’s August?”
“I have better things to do than monitor your personal correspondence and the movements of your cat, Aquila,” she replied, turning down the covers of his bed. “Were you expecting a letter from someone in particular?”
“No, nothing in particular,” he hummed, noticing that one of the windows overlooking the Garden was ajar. August must be somewhere in the Garden, of course. He hated how disappointed he felt. “It’s been some time since Hadassah’s last letter and I’d hoped one might have come while I was away.”
I’m sure one will come soon,” she hummed, suddenly beside him and he jolted a little at the first brush of her fingers as she lifted the hem of his kameez. “You must have felt the need to follow Taline very pressing, to have dashed off after her with no qabā[2] or even socks on your feet.”
He grunted in response as he crossed his arms across his now bare chest and stepped out of his shoes, carefully nudging them out of the way, just under the edge of his bed, with the side of his foot while he waited for his sister to return from the bathroom.
“And look how sharp your pelvic crests have become,” she continued as she returned with a well-wrung washrag in her hand and severe cast to her expression. “Emaciation is neither healthy nor attractive, Aquila. You must take better care of your body if you want to return from every contract…”
He sighed and leaned into her. Her neck was smooth against his cheek and he savored the warmth and scent of her skin, the scent of hyssop clinging to her clothing, and the familiar cadence of her voice, even as she continued to scold him.
“…how can you expect anyone to entrust you with the care of a child when you’re setting such a poor example of self-care for your students? You must do better, jeegaram. Have you forgotten how Mother always pushed us to better ourselves?”
“Yes, Effendi.”
“I would sacrifice myself for you, may you be well,” she suddenly blurted out, hugging him against herself tightly. A bead of cold water rolled down his back from the washrag still clenched in her hand. The embrace was released as abruptly as it had been given and she jerkily smoothed his forelock back from his face. “Now go to bed and get some rest. The Order has great need of your skill and I must see to this situation with Taline.”
“Yes, Effendi,” he dutifully repeated, hesitating a moment before adding, “Ezio will be upset that we’ve both gotten so involved. He views this as a private matter between himself and Taline.”
“Then he should have made the effort to be a better husband for her,” she retorted. “Neither of us wants to involve ourselves in managing the mess he’s made of his marriage, and yet here we are.” She sighed and grimaced. “We’ll discuss this further tonight, over dinner in my chambers. You can bring your cat, if you want. Now sleep,” she paused in the doorway to add over her shoulder. She didn’t wait for his response before she closed the door firmly, but quietly, behind herself.
He sighed into the roaring silence his sister had left and made a cursory search for the damp washrag she’d used to bathe him. It must still be in her hand, he mused when he couldn’t find it. Kadija is not absent-minded, there must be much weighing on her. He felt guilty for adding to his sister’s burdens. The fabric of his zir-šalvar had adhered to a few of the more irritated wounds along his inner thighs, making the removal of that final article of clothing unpleasant. Washing his wounds was also quite unpleasant. Embrace the pain, my treasure, it will only make you stronger.
His mattress was pleasurably firm and the soft bedding warmed to him quickly, a comforting cocoon of familiar textures and scents. He was already two-thirds asleep when the sound of a soft thud stirred him, followed by a length of silence. Just as he was sinking back into sleep, a sudden weight landed on the bed beside him and moved up along his body towards the pillow he was using, where Augustine greeted him with a rather jarring headbutt and a deep rumbling purr before attempting to claim the pillow for himself.
“Hello August,” he mumbled, turning on his side and dragging the reluctant feline over to cuddle against his chest. “I’ve missed you, lazy fat.”
Augustine squawked in protest before settling against him and marking his chest with the side of his cheek. He’d only just started shedding his heavy winter coat, and his thick velvety fur was imbued with the scents of musky damp earth and the soft spring scent of the Garden. After his petting had tapered off, the cat slithered back up to claim the pillow beside his face. The last thing he felt, before sleep swiftly overcame him, was Augustine grooming his hair.
[1] The Quran, verse 2:255
[2] A long outer cloak buttoned down the front. In the 18th century Reinhold Niebuhr commented on the similarity between this garment and the long robes worn by men depicted on the Persepolis reliefs