Masyaf
July, 1191
July, 1191
Jameel slept until dusk. He'd finally gotten a proper sleep. He also got himself a proper meal, instead of eating stolen fruits, dried meat, and stale bread. Afterward, he headed outside of castle Masyaf, white Assassin robes flowing behind him. All was quiet in the deserted courtyard. Well, almost deserted. There he was again. Imagine, the Red Owl, scourge of the Templar Order, being haunted by some Novice from God only knew where! The Master Assassin decided to practice some more.
Everyone had their assignments at this time. If anyone needed him, he would be there. Even if it was only that waif behind him that he couldn't seem to avoid.
Lex woke to the adhan and grouchily pulled himself to his feet. After finding a servant to direct him to some real food and wolfing that down, he limped down to the river, broke off two branches from the nearest tree, and started on making himself some crutches. By the umpteenth hack with his dagger, he was seriously considering making some pockets less time squandering than this hassle.
He looked up as someone came and sat opposite him. Malik, his arm bandaged now, the sleeve rolled up and pinned at the shoulder. An odd half smirk was on his face, as if his being here doing this amused him. The boy slid his dagger along the wood, scraping the shavings off against a rock.
"The hell you find so funny?" he muttered, testing the height of the one crutch before setting to making the other. He waved off the sting as the blade nicked his fingers and spilled color onto his skin.
"You," said Malik. "I find you funny."
"Why's that?"
"You appear from nowhere and remain here. You stay near a man who almost killed you. You kill a man by sheer accident, but act as though it's nothing."
"It wasn't nothing!"
"I'm glad you know this. Was it told to you?"
"Murder wasn't exactly on my from-birth bucket list."
"If you remain here, you will kill again." Silence. "Has Jameel told you of the Creed yet?"
"What Creed?" Lex's brows furrowed in confusion. "The--the band?" The Master Assassin assumed that was a no, he hadn't.
"There are three tenets to the Assassin's Creed."
"Uh-huh." He nodded and rubbed at his pounding head.
"First, stay your blade form the blood of the innocent."
"Sounds doable." Lex pulled his shirt up and off over his head.
"Second, be discreet in your work."
"Ninja. Got it." He set the clothing aside and scraped at the wood again. At least I'll do this dumbass crap comfortably.
"Must you comment after each of these?" His answer was a smirk. "The third and most important: do not compromise the Brotherhood. In any way. Direct or indirect." Don't even have crutches. What the hell, man! Lex's irritable mood slipped into his tongue, "Yeah, the password is bacon. Okay."
"Be serious, Novice!" Malik's veneer of calm exploded. "My brother died because of a fool who dishonored our Creed!" It was then Lex remembered Kadar. His eyes widened and stuck that way as he was speared by the man's narrowed ones. Unable to articulate the ghost of pain he felt, the words came, inadequate: "I--I didn't know. I'm sorry." Malik simply held his gaze.
"What are the tenets?"
"Don't harm the innocent, work discreetly, and never compromise the Brotherhood."
"And what happens if you do such things?" The boy was quiet. He drew a breath and pressed a fist against his forehead, eyes shut tight. Malik nodded and settled a hand on the Novice's shoulder. Glancing up, he met the man's eyes, fists clenched over the wood he still held. He looked away, standing and testing his poor workmanship.
Lex shifted his weight onto his good leg and gave an experimental hop.
The crutches groaned, bent out a little...held.
He grabbed his shirt and tunic, wrapping them around the bars of the crutches to keep from bruising his arms as he hopped labriously up the trail to the training yard, leaning against the barbican wall and panting. Seeing Jameel was still there, he made a low hoo-weet, hoo-weet whistle.
Jameel heard and stopped, sheathing his wrist blade. He mentally counted his throwing daggers while addressing the Novice, "Hello, Lex." After slipping the daggers into their respective places on his belt, he turned to face the kid. "How's the leg?"
"Hey." Lex shifted on his ill-made crutches. "A pain in my a** still. And these things are more of a b***h than they're worth." With some doing, he manuevered himself onto balance and held out one of the supports. "Check it out."
Jameel took a look. After a moment, he shook his head and gave it back.
"Whoever made this obviously can't make anything sturdy. I'll go make you another pair." With that, the Red Owl took off.
Which left Lex to chew his lip and wonder, Didn't have t'do that. What's he want in return? He hobbled to the robing room and changed into his old clothes. It felt good to be in them again--and pockets!
Wallet, keys...iPod--when did I put that in there? He patted down his pockets and hopped through the archway. Not knowing where exactly the man had gone, he took a moment to watch Desmond. The barkeep rolled over and disappeared in the haystack he was lying on.
Jameel returned as quick as he'd gone, sheathing the dagger he'd used. "Here. They're done. Doesn't take me long to carve something." Lex switched with him. This Assassin knew how to work! The branches were carved into more than suitable crutches. It even looked like he'd gone through the trouble of de-splinterizing the things.
"Thanks again." He chewed his lip, then looked at him. "Why do this for me?"
The Master Assassin gave him an unreadable look, one that spoke volumes in a tongue he felt he only half understood, and said, "We can't have a lame Novice. Your leg won't heal properly if you walk on it." Jameel then noticed the oddity beside them. "Why is that pile of hay snoring?"
For the first time in what felt like years, Lex cracked up. He snickered out the words, "S'not the ha--hahah--hay, s'th'guy sle--hehehehe--sleeping in it." He let out a few more peals of laughter, then sighed. "Ah, man, I needed that."
Confused, the man gave a very shrill whistle at the pile. It startled the nearby chickens; any louder and he'd wake the dead in Arsuf. Whoever was sleeping in there needed to move out. Otherwise, he'd drag them out.
"WHO DID THAT?!" Desmond shot up from the hay. He snarled and looked at the two. Rolled his eyes and groaned. "Oh, it's you. The hell do you want, kid?" He looked at Jameel annoyedly, at the chicken that looked suspiciously like it wanted to crap on his shoe. He kicked the bird away and stalked toward the innards of Masyaf. "Guy can't get a minute's sleep around here!"
Lex ran a hand through his hair and said, "What's he been doing anyway?" Then again, since everyone called him Altair here--he wasn't so stupid as to not hear that--maybe he'd gotten shucked with all the guy's stuff. Lex slid a hand into his pocket and withdrew his iPod, holding up one of the earbuds to Jameel. "Here. Gotta pay you back somehow for the crutches. Might as well be in something I've got."
Jameel looked at it...and looked at it...and looked at it some more. What. Was. IT? Little white round thing...attached to some square thing. Attacked between with some rather thin rope... It was odd. He made no motion to touch it.
"What...is that?"
"What the hell is that?" The echo was from Malik, who'd come to investigate the reason for the whistling.
"This, my friends, is a portable music player called an iPod. Songs from all over the world on it. Well, most of the world, anyway." Lex scrolled through the songs and picked one of the softer tracks. He leaned up and pressed the one earbud into Jameel's ear and, hauling him over, the other into Malik's before pressing play.
Jameel waited, curiousity mounting, only to recoil as the song came on. The earbud popped out easily, causing him to rub that particular ear, which rang for a second before clearing. Well, that startled him. Rather effectively. What was THAT?!
Lex grinned, hands in his pockets. God, it felt good to be able to do that again. "Scare ya?" He retrieved the dangling earbud, taking the one from Malik as well, despite the man's look of protest, as he rolled them up around the player, shutting it off to conserve the battery.
Jameel gave the boy and the device a long, sideways look before he fled toward the training area. He was done practicing for the day, though, and only managed to find some food before he was forced to down it in three bites. A crow was at the window. He shooed it away and it obligingly flew off, shrieking. What it was doing here, he had no idea, but it disturbed him all the same...
Which was why he hastily made his way out of the keep. The dark bird plagued his thoughts and harried him on down the slope to the village. He wanted to vanish in the crowds of the market for a space and then make his escape.
A voice calling his name brought him up short; the thud that followed it temporarily dashed his pan and his worries.
Why was this happening to him? Why now? Why?
"Bismillah!" he exclaimed in sheer frustration as he went to the boy's inert form and lifted him up, as well as the crutches, before he could be trampled. Jameel carried him back up the mountain--not without calling him every name under the blazing noonday sun--and into the castle, where he handed Lex over and told the servant to tend to him. Again.
That boy should remain in the castle! He cast the dirty waif of a Novice a last barbed glance before taking a quick run to the stables. There he took a horse, gave it its full head, and rode away. He would not compromise the Brotherhood.
The raven winged after him.
