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The Assassins moved further back into the shadows, away from the growing checkerboard of moonlight and shadow made by the rest of the rooftop.

"Use the back entrance," said Jabal suddenly, voice barely above a creaking whisper. The men looked toward where his voice had come from beside them. "What? You thought that was the only entrance?"

"We split up." Altair took hold of Desmond's arm. "Less chance of them picking us off if we're not clustered together."

"Have you been dipping a little too heavy into the hashish today, old man?" Desmond snapped. "Jameel's broken up behind us. What's he gonna do, be left here to be turned into bacon strips for these jokers?"

"I'll take care of him." They looked down toward Lex. The boy shoved at them as Jabal tugged the two Eagles' arms. "Go. If it's gonna be a turkey shoot, I'll be the fatter bird." The Rafiq opened the door, lighting a small oil lamp as he did and hanging it on the wall to mark the position of the door. With that, the trio fled.

The boy turned back to Jameel. He had the long, curved dagger that he wore on the back of his belt unsheathed, but he didn't look anywhere near fighting fit. The Hidden blade bracer hung from his belt as well.

"Gimme that." Lex pointed to the weapon.

"What?"

"Gimme that." He pointed again, only to shake his head at the man's lack of response and take it himself. He slipped the bracer on over his glove and tightened the straps until it was snug on his forearm. "How do I work this thing?" Jameel was looking at him like he'd walked into one of the churches, taken the eucharist, and said, "Mmm, year 1046, that's some good Jesus!"

"There's a ring on the pinkie that--" He cut himself off. "No, you're not wearing my Hidden Blade! You'll just end up maiming yourself." The man jumped when the blade popped up and no blood curdling screams ensued.

"Mmmf! Mm!" The blade disappeared, Lex flapping his hand in the air. He popped his cut ring finger into his mouth, sucking at the razor line that had been scored into his skin from the first joint to his fingertip. "Man alive, that stings."

Jameel covered his mouth quickly, shutting him up. There wasn't anymore movement. No footsteps. The silence was unnerving, deadlier than a coiled cobra. Pulling the Novice back to the door, he turned him around so they were face to face.

"Go."

"Jameel," Lex began.

"No. You're going to head in whatever direction you pick once you're out that door. I'll find my own way out." He opened his mouth to speak further, but was silenced by Lex lifting his gun.

"Jameel," he said, pulling back the hammer, "shut the hell up. You couldn't fight your way out of a wet, torn bag looking like you do now." He set his hand on the door's handle. "Both of us are walking out of here, or neither of us is." Lex swallowed around the growing lump in his throat and licked his lips, which had suddenly gone dry. "Ready?" Jameel pressed his hand to the door.

"Ready." He glanced at the boy. "On three--" The wooden roof door exploded.

"Three!" Lex shoved him through the door and out into the alleyway behind the building, running after him for all he was worth as the three different arrows of the watch came raining down at them. He ducked, throwing up his arms to shield his head as a bomb took out the wall just above it, staggering.

Jameel flinched as a glass arrow shattered somewhere to his right, turning down another street and hopping away from the black arrow that almost pierced his foot. Behind him, the boy turned as one of the archers was pinned in the corner of his eye and fired. A strangled scream and a thud were his rewards as he pelted after Jameel.

He panted as he came into the small space that lead to the entrance. The guards of Acre had surrounded the man, ten in all. He was on a knee, his dagger black with blood in the light provided by the moon and stars. Two of the men lay dead, throats still pumping out blood. A third was trying to get a throwing knife out of his chest, doubled up on the ground.

One of the guards stepped forward, raising his sword. Lex took off, feeling the blade slice his finger again as it extended with a soft click. To his ears, it almost sounded like a sword scraping free of its sheath in slow motion, the way it did in animes. But maybe that was the adrenaline hearing things. He didn't know. His brain had shut off the second he'd started what felt like the longest run of his life.

And then he was coming down from the air, from an insane jump--when in God's name had he done that?--slamming the blade diagonally into the man's neck. He tore it free, the bloodied metal disappearing as he drew his daggers and cut an advancing man's throat. Blood sprayed onto his face. What had he hit in there? Jugular or corrotid?

Catching movement to his side, he spun, turning the blade so he held the tip between his fingers, and loosed. The blade planted itself in the man's eye. Revulsion turned his stomach as the body dropped, twitching, to the dirt. He doubled up and vomited, hacking.

A quick yank brought him back to reality, collar digging into his throat. He stabbed the guard under his raised arm hard as he could. The blade snapped as the man's weight crashed down to join its comrades. The Sparrow staggered as Jameel snagged his arm and pulled him along toward the nearest building as more guards and their living shadows came toward them from all directions.

He scrambled up onto the roof, tugging the Master Assassin up by his robes as the man reached over the edge. "Yallah. Yallah." The Novice wasn't sure who he was saying it to or what for, only that it was a fervent prayer as they made their way across the stone and wood toward Acre's great walls.

Jameel reached the wall first, jumping up and planting his foot on the wall, giving himself a boost onto the top. He turned, ducking as an arrow whistled by his ear, and held out his good arm. Lex threw himself up as far as he could, grasping the edge with his fingertips as Jameel caught him by the belt and dragged him up.

A nervous laugh came from his throat as he eyed the jump. "Think the horses ate all the hay at the bottom?" No time, no time to wait for an answer. Jameel gave one of his shrill whistles as they stepped off into the air. The landing in the haystack jarred the air from both their lungs, teeth rattling.

Lex was the first to get out of the straw. The wound in his leg had reopened, dying the bandage red as he moved toward Jameel's speckled horse. Jameel sat up, gasping for breath, and had to scramble quickly aside as an oil-soaked arrow set the stack aflame.

In the glow of the fire, something small and silver glinted, tufted on one end, brought toward one of the white beaks. Jameel braced himself where he crouched, prepared to dodge away. But the boney face wasn't turned toward him...

He was already moving before his brain caught up to his body, covering the distance between himself and the Novice in two strides what would normally have taken him four. A sharp pain stabbed into his shoulder as he picked Lex up and threw him onto the horse's back, grasping the saddle and swinging himself astride.

He urged the animal forward as more arrows came for them, hurrying away from Acre.





Lex opened his eyes. He didn't know how he'd fallen asleep, but by the time he managed to pry his lids open Acre had faded into the distance. Sand was moving along beneath the horse's hooves. Sitting up, he grasped the horse's mane to keep himself steady, feeling motion sick. The taste of vomit from the earlier battle didn't help matters of the stomach.

He looked back as he heard heavy panting in his ear. Jameel had a vice grip around his waist with his good arm. The man was shuddering and coughing, unable to catch his breath.

The world from Jameel's perspective was causing him even more reason to wretch than Lex's. Dizziness had set in as they'd passed through the hills and out into the desert. Whether the Crows would be ahead of them in the next city was beyond him. He had bigger problems to deal with. Like there being five of everything. Why were there five of everything? He was sure he'd only brought one horse. There had to be one Lex.

It took Jameel some time to realize what had been in the dart, and by that time the spit had dried up in his mouth and his breath had been cut short. Dammit. He clutched at the boy in front of him, who seemed to have lost consciousness temporarily from the blood running down his leg. Panting, he tore off a part of his robes and tied it tight around Lex's leg, staunching the flow. Stay awake!

Relief flooded over him as the boy finally lifted his head from where he'd drooped over the saddle and looked at him. Or maybe that was a fresh wave of nausea.

"Poison," he managed to say before toppling into the sand.

"s**t! s**t! Jameel! s**t!" Lex fell hard onto his back as he struggled to get himself off the horse, his leg unable to support his weight. He pulled the man's robes open, all but tearing away his shirt, tunic, and armor. He pulled one of the throwing knives from the Master Assassin's belt, widening the hole in his shoulder where the dart had fallen from when he removed his clothes. He'd seen enough Indiana Jones movies to know what that was for.

He bent his head and sucked at the enlarged hole, coughing as blood filled his mouth. The taste was metallic, yet unusually sour. He spat, sucked, and spat again. Coughed and spat. "You're not dying." Spat. "You're not." He took another mouthful of blood, letting it dribble into the sand. He hacked. "You're gotta kill that"--he hocked a bloody wad of spit down with the rest--"brother of yours remember?" More frantic spitting. He wiped the blood from his mouth and pressed his wadded up sleeve against the hole as hard as he could as he turned the Owl over and checked his breathing and pulse. "It's okay, Jameel. It's okay." He panted, a short coughing fit halting his words. "I'll--I'll take care of you. Don't worry, man. I'm gonna take care of you."

The days passed hot and disgusting. The boy rationed the water between them, giving the bigger portion to the Red Owl. His mouth and throat felt like someone had stuffed cotton in them. Not even a drink could revive the saliva. Every now and then the constant battle with further sickness was lost; he clung to the horse's neck and heaved up the liquid in his stomach into the sand.

The nights were no better. Jameel's shivering intensified with the cold, heart beating frantically almost out of his chest. Lex was forced to ground tie the horse, bringing the reins up over its head and letting them trail on the ground. Taking the blanket from the horse's back, he covered the man with it and nestled against his side to give him further warmth.

Finally, out of a haze of heat, water sloshed up against the horse's hooves. Lex looked at the stuff like it was another mirage--he'd have sworn up, down, and sideways that there'd been a McDonald's back on day three...or was it four? Two? How many had it been now? Five?--but knelt gratefully by it and filled the canteen.

"Shukran, Allah," he rasped and dragged himself back onto the horse where Jameel sat, grasping the saddle and trying to get his eyes to focus. The man had fallen in and out of a stupor for the entire journey since he'd sucked out the poison, and he still looked like he was ready to fall off the horse again.

Lex didn't know if it was God, Yahweh, Allah, or the Flying Spaghetti Monster he should've been thanking as he rode into the cool shade of a canyon, following the creek, but he let out a whoop of joy at seeing stone walls rising up from the desert. It set him to coughing.

The boy gripped the horse with his legs, the reins with one hand and Jameel with the other, as they made their way down the sloping track to Damas. The Sparrow didn't know Damascus from Aleppo, though, and one large, walled city in the middle of nowhere was as good as any. It also saved the Master Assassin from any "What is the capital of Assyria?" questions.

Getting into the city proper was another chore Lex hadn't anticipated. Too tired to dismount or make any plan of sneaking in, he simply rode toward the soldiers guarding the gate. The men blocked the way with their spears.

"What business do you have in Damas?" asked one. Lex sighed and cleared his throat, feeling a chill rush through his limbs as Jameel closed his fingers around the broken dagger's hilt where it stuck from his belt.

"We're..." He coughed. "We're...scholars." He grasped the reins tighter in his fist, thinking of all the words he'd heard previously before picking the right ones and saying them. "Our caravan was...was attacked..." He hacked over his shoulder and waved toward the canyon. "There. Beyond there." The men looked between each other. The one who had taken it on himself to speak to them frowned. No attacks had been hear of from other travelers.

"Are you ill?" The soldiers looked between each other and moved back as the question was asked. Lex all but sobbed. There isn't time for this!

"La!" Lex grasped at his hair, wanting to tear some of it out. "Bismillah..." The Saracen looked at the pair on the horse, at the dagger stuck in the young man's belt. He claimed to be a scholar, but why was he armed? He shook the thought away. It may have been instinctual to pick up a weapon during a battle; he certainly would have, if he'd been attacked unarmed. His eyes turned to the injury that was level with his face, the boy's leg caked in blood.

"Have no worries, my friends. Salah al-Din has proclaimed that scholars may come and go as he pleased," he informed the two men. "You may stay as long as you wish." The men parted for them.

"Mashallah," Lex breathed, followed quickly by, "Shukran." Why the hell didn't you say that in the first place, you a**? his mind groaned. The horse moved into the city. It was a cleaner place than Acre, the buildings almost dazzling shades of white or cream, minarets piercing the sky. Finding the Bureau in this place, if there was one, would have to come later. Jameel muttered a word into his ear. Lex asked about it to the nearest people.

He sighed as they came to it, realizing it was an inn. Lowering Jameel from the animal's back, he helped him inside. Lacking the strength to do anything but want to rest, he said to the innkeeper, "Asalaam alaykum," took the remaining change from his pocket, and dumped it on the counter. The man was left with the money as Lex trudged to the nearest free room and set Jameel on the bed.

The Novice leaned his head against the wall and shut his eyes, trembling. He sank to the floor, looking at the sleeping man resting beside him. He groaned as his stomach cramped yet again, curling up on his side against the wall. He forced his eyes open as his lids began to droop.

Don't sleep, damn you. Don't sleep. He quickly clicked his--no, Jameel's--Hidden Blade in and out, the sting of the cut waking him. Stay awake. I'll find the Bureau here. Just gotta stay awake. Help'll come... Just stay awake...

It only felt like a few minutes had passed, but the Call to Prayer was coming loud into the room from what sounded like all directions and shadow almost entirely covered the room. Outside, the sun was setting. Oh my God, I fell asleep with my eyes open. Lex blinked and forced himself to a sit, wiping the spew from his mouth and as well as he could from the floor with a rag he tore off his clothes. "Yuck..." He stood and made his way to what amounted to an outhouse. Feeling more vile than ever after coming back into the room, he sank to the floor again.

The Novice looked down at his leg as he felt something press against his thigh, something square. He took the iPod out from his pocket and turned it on. It still worked. He wanted to laugh at that--it was ironic somehow, he knew it--but didn't have the strength. Instead, he put the buds in his ears and turned on the loudest Russian metal he could find to keep his brain from shutting off like it had before.

Jameel squirmed on the bed, something loud interrupting his stupor. Dammit. He dragged his eyes open groggily. I'm trying to sleep this off here. His slitted eyes peered at the sight of a very jumpy Novice. He had that music thing in his ear, though what was blaring out of it didn't sound so much like music. More like someone dying by having their bowels twisted out through their mouths.

"Lex?" He reached over and set a hand on the boy's leg.

"Huh?" Lex stopped the noise and pulled the buds out. His ears rang for a minute before quieting. "Sorry." He shut off the device, rolled up the cords, and pocketed it again. He bowed over suddenly, dry heaving, stomach feeling worse than if he was stabbing himself with his dagger. Nothing came out this time, not even water.

Jameel wiped the sweat from his face with his sleeve. His fever, which had developed over the last few days, still hadn't broken. Damn those mercenaries. Distract with arrows, then poison when not paying attention. Clever bastards... He curled his fingers around the boy's sleeve and eased him over as well as he could. Turning quickly, he let the water he'd drunk a few hours earlier gush onto the floor, coughing.

"This sucks." English had broken through again. Lex shuddered as the Red Owl turned back to him and huddled against him. "Jameel."

"Hn?"

The boy swallowed and tried to speak in the man's language, panting. "I--I don't feel good." He sighed as the canteen was pressed to his lips, a little water passing down his throat. "I don't feel good," he whimpered again, clutching his stomach as the water rose back up into his mouth and was swallowed again as bile. He choked, a little dribbling out onto the floor. "It hurts."

"Shh." Jameel reached over, tugging the boy's hood down. "Please." His fingers combed into his hair. "Please, be quiet." Lex breathed faster, eyes barely open.

"I don't wanna go to sleep." He shuddered. "I don't wanna sleep, Jameel." He groaned and covered his mouth, coughing and gagging on nothing.

"Bas." He listened to the other's breathing, the staggered noise alone enough to drive him mad. "You don't have to sleep." His hand continued its work. "Just stay quiet for me." A few moments later the Novice was asleep. He sighed and brought the too warm little body closer to ward off the night's and the fever's chill.



Altair finished inspecting his wounds before placing more salves and bandages over them. Desmond opened his eyes as the other Eagle strapped on his Hidden Blade once more. The two of them had gotten out of the city through one of the other exits, much as Kadin had. They had parted ways with Jabal there, the old Rafiq telling them he would head for Jerusalem for the time being, and that if any of his pigeons had been harmed in the attack of the Bureau he would personally see to it that the door remained locked to them on every mission they took there.

"Good. You're awake. I've sent messages to Jameel. Should he answer, we'll know if he's alive or dead."

"What, you're not gonna go look yourself?" Golden eyes turned to stare at the bartender.

"There aren't many places he can hole away between here and Acre. I find this more expedient." Desmond propped his elbows on his legs and moved his thumbs around in the air. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, I'm sending him a text message: Where you at, Jameel?" Altair gave him an annoyed glare. The man frowned and lowered his arms to his lap. "But, really, you keep asking about him. He does have that kid with him, y'know."

"You act as if you're worried about the boy."

"You persuing the goal of my imminent demise or something, gramps?" Desmond waved his hand at Altair. "Look, I may not like him all that much either, but Lex...He's my ticket home. And unless you want to spend the rest of your life with the knowledge that your bloodline's gonna end with me here in this time, you'd better start showing a little concern for that boy too."

The two men fell silent, looking at one another. They were of an age, the same height, almost mirror images, but for their eyes.

"This is odd."

"You think this is odd? I have to explain where I've been to Lucy when I get home."

"Who's Lucy?"

"She's a woman I know." Altair smirked. "No. No, no, no. Not like that. Don't even dare."



Lex rubbed the sand from his eyes. Sandman really wanted me to sleep, huh? he thought and sighed. His stomach had stopped twisting itself into a frothy boil and the warmth surrounding him was a pleasant change from the cold that had crept up on him hours before.

He looked at the man opposite him and was astonished at how close he was, arms holding him in a loose embrace, but the memory of the nights in the desert came pouring back into his sleep-fogged mind. A survival mechanism, that was all this was, he reminded himself. A smile turned up the edges of his lips, daydreams of a chilly Masyaf night forming before his mind's eye.

Reaching back, he picked up the canteen and took a drink to wash away the taste of vomit that caked his mouth and throat. He capped off his drink and turned the container in his hands. He looked at it, tracing lines over the surface and trying to nag those persistent images away.

The Novice stood and moved to the window where moonlight was cascading into the room, providing a dim source of illumination for the room. Turning his back to the window, he started to throw a few punches toward his shadow.

A distraction from his distraction came in the form of a hooting noise from outside. Lex turned and looked out the window. An owl was perched on the sill, staring at him with large, yellow eyes. Had it thought his ducking and moving was that of prey? The brown owl hooted again, flapping its wings. He threw his arms up as it flew at him, only to almost fall over as its weight latched onto his--Jameel's--bracer.

The Sparrow looked the bird up and down. It bobbed its head up and down and reached out its neck, nibbling his robes. He stroked its wings tentatively, running his fingers down its back as he caught sight of something tied to the owl's leg. Untying the small roll of paper, he went to the window and unfolded it.

His eyes traced the squiggles and dots carefully, following them right to left. The owl clamped its beak onto a chunk of his hair, moving it around as he looked at Jameel. The Red Owl was out once again.

Lex rubbed the owl's chest feathers, pushing it back onto the sill, looking for something to write on. He felt in his pockets and pulled out his keys. Undoing his belt, a section was cut off quickly with the broken dagger. The Novice resinched his belt and let the glorified nocturnal carrier pigeon chew on his head, or whatever it was doing to his hair, and carved into the leather with his keys in large, blocky English letters:

In Damas. Owl sick. Send help. Send back word.

Punching another hole in the leather, he wrapped it around the bird's leg and tied it off with three hard knots and pocketed his keys.

Letting the predator hop onto his arm again, he whispered, "Go. Go to Masyaf." The brown owl flew off into the night. Lex settled his arms against the sill and watched it disappear, gazing up at the sky.



Desmond groaned as something thumped down on his chest.

'Who's on top of me?"

"Hoo."

"Yeah, who, you sorry sack of--" He stared at the large eyes gazing back at him before letting out a scream. Altair flew up into a crouch, looking around. He saw Desmond staring and pointing and whipped his head around, looking at the fluffed up animal hissing at him.

"Desmond, you idiot, that's Jameel's bird."

"He uses an owl as a carrier pigeon?" The owl relaxed its feathers, eyeing the barkeep as it landed on Altair's outstretched arm. It had made good time, easily winging its way to Masyaf. Jameel had trained the she-owl well since finding it fallen out of the nest. Altair handed the message on its leg to the other man. Des grinned as he read. "All right! They're alive!"

His mouth shut as he caught the look Altair was giving him. The other man disappeared, a light appearing as he sat at the table with the bird. Desmond moved over, squinting in the light, and took the quill from him, getting ink smeared all over his fingers as he wrote: See you there.

Tying off the message with a fresh piece of twine, Jameel's bird hopped to the end of the table and flapped to the sill, giving another hop and rising into the air outside.

"What now?" he asked, following his ancestor outside.

"Now we go to meet them.



The two Eagles rode at a gallop across the sand, only slowing when their horses were too tired to hold the pace. Even so, they made good time, dawn's light peeking over the horizon as they tied their horses near the canyon and walked inside, heads bowed, prayers murmured from their lips.

Altair walked surely through the streets of Damascus, keeping his eyes on the guards as Desmond looked around for a sign from the two Assassins. There were no beaks in black to be seen, for which they were grateful.

A screech alerted the two men to the owl seated above their heads on the inn roof. The men walked down the side street beside the building. The owl fluttered down to the window and hopped inside. Desmond made his way up and into the room, Altair stepping inside after him.

In the growing light, the relatives could see Lex where he sat against the wall, chin tucked against his chest. Jameel was still lying where the Novice had left him. Altair padded over and crouched, putting a hand over the boy's mouth. Lex gasped, eyes wide. The Sparrow sighed as he saw who it was.

He stood as the man moved away, only to sink to his knees. Desmond took his arm, pulling him up onto his back as Altair hefted Jameel and brought him to the window. After some doing, they got the injured Owl down and carried both their brothers to their mounts.

The owl clacked her beak in a yawn and flew off toward home. Neither of the men saw the movement in the shadows, intent on their task. They stood in the shadows of the walls, staring with beaked, masked faces. They didn't bother to engage the Assassins.

They watched them go.

The ride back was left all four exhausted. Despite stops to catch their breath and one to water the horses, it did nothing for the fatigue as much as their own beds would. It was growing near evening when they finally made it through the gates of the mountain stronghold.

The group made its way up the mountain slope, helping in some way to support Jameel. The first to peel off was Desmond, who collapsed in his usual stack of hay near the barbican. Altair left them at the dais, making some pretense or other of speaking to Al Mualim.

The Sparrow was left to half-drag, half-carry the Master Assassin into the infirmary. There he laid down and muttered something to one of the servants. He wasn't sure of the exact words, but the intended gist had been one of asking them to help sort them out.

Four days went by with little improvement from the Red Owl. He continued to sleep, waking only for a drink, a little food, maybe to bark at the nearest servant to help him get up to go take a piss.

Lex spent the time not checking on his friend doing whatever he could that seemed productive. He moved through the village, striking up conversations with whomever he could, even if it was just the usual pleasantries of a greeting. He sparred with Desmond and Altair, the elder Eagle temporarily taking over their training during the time he had between missions. Learning to grapple someone would have hurt under any circumstance, but this man took training like a personal offense. Black and blue were becoming common colors for their darkening skin. He and Desmond were even shown the way to the showers!

In fact, hygiene became a lesson unto itself, given to them by a man called Rauf. Altair had requisitioned his services before leaving once again.

Clean and feeling it for the first time in ages, the time travelers laid down for another snatch at rest.

Five days after their return from Damascus, Jameel finally roused himself enough to sit up. There was a constant buzzing in his brain, an annoying fly he couldn't swat dead. Being in a safe place with no one to bother him had done him well.

I'd feel like s**t either way, he thought, rubbing his temples with his good hand. His ribs protested as he moved to a more comfortable, cross-legged sit, but were ignored.

Beside him, Lex sat up and knuckled the sleep from his eyes. He ran a hand over his face and looked at him.

"Morning."

Jameel nodded his hello, then took the food offered by one of the servants and devoured it.

"Who wants Assassin steak?" He paused with the fork to his mouth. So, he was finally learning to speak. Lex nodded toward his wounds. "Giant Templar sure did." With that, he stood and walked out.

He moved into the courtyard, making his usual circuit of the place. Desmond was reclining against the training yard fence, torturing another Novice with... What was he torturing him with?

"How's Jameel?"

"You ever seen steak tartar?" The boy felt a little pride at being able to answer in the language that seemed to flow so easily from the bartender's mouth. Desmond nodded and changed the subject, "Wanna spar?"

"Swords this time." He nodded. The two picked up the wooden training swords and entered the ring for a short bout, mostly blocking and dodging.

It had been quiet around the place. No one dared venture outside for fear of stumbling upon Ravenwatch. Not that the buzzards would have gone after Masyaf itself. The pair stopped as the noon Call rang over the city. Desmond looked over at him. Lex shrugged. They had tried answering it once, to see how it was.

It had been odd and slightly uncomfortable to feel the eyes turning on them, even if they'd been only glances.

"Do you think they would attack here?"

"Who knows?"

"I'll be inside if you need me."

"Yeah, take care, Lex."

"Safety and peace, man." The Sparrow hopped up the steps of the dais and moved into the library. His reading level was next to nothing, but looking at the scrawled writing, letting his eyes move over it, right and left, right and left, gave him something to do. Sometimes one of the elder Assassins would take a little pity on him and help him read. One of these days, I just might get it.

Lex walked up the stairs from the library, following one of the dove-tailed sets around to where they joined again in front of a desk. The desk was positioned squarely in front of a large window, flanked on either side by shelves. From one set of shelves the cooing of pigeons could be heard. As he moved closer, the Novice saw...something on the desk.

It looked like a globe, but was only slightly smaller than a soccer ball. He padded closer, moving up the single step to stand in front of the Assassin symbol and get a better look at the thing. His head tilted to one side. He felt as if his eyes were fixed on it. Edging forward, he reached out a hand to pick it up.

"Novice!" The spell was broken. He almost loosed his bowels along with it. "I send my best men after you and this is how your repay me? Skulking around my quarters?" The boy bolted, falling hard as he missed the step down. He got up and kept running until he reached the infirmary. There he flung himself around the doorway, planted himself on the floor by the wall, and pressed a hand to his chest, where his heart threatened to burst on him.

The boy's pounding into the room woke Jameel. His face twisted into frustration, then confusion. Finally, it changed to a resigned sort of curiosity.

"What'd you do now?" Something must have riled Lex to get him to look like a trapped chicken.

"I dunno!" Lex looked up at him. "I planned on staying in the library for a bit, but then I went up the stairs. Then I saw this...this thing. It looked like a giant, golden egg on the desk in there." The boy's gaze shifted into the distance, as though he was still back in the room. "I wanted to touch it." A blink and the strange look was gone. "Then this old man came in screaming and I got the hell outta there. Whadya think that thing was?"

"You trespassed in Al Mualim's quarters?" Jameel had that death-dealing "Were you temporarily insane?!" look on his face. What the hell was Lex doing in there? He sighed and shook his head. He would ask later. For now, "An egg? You're sure it was an egg?"

Lex echoed the sigh as he saw the look on the other's face and nodded.

"Yeah, it looked like an egg. A weird, gold egg, about the size of..." He moved his hands in a rough estimate of the circumferance, dropping into English, "About the size of a soccer ball."

Jameel nodded, discounting the reference to yet another thing he didn't know about. Lex's speech was full of those. Desmond's as well, but not as much. So, he wasn't about to ask what the hell a soccer ball was. The boy had gotten his attention with the mention of the odd item, though.

He had seen it when he'd spoken to Al Mualim once after Altair and Malik returned from Jerusalem, to thank him for the chance to train the Novice. He hadn't thought much of it at the time. Now that it had been pointed out again, his mind began to work.

"Now what would he be doing with that? We have no use for treasure." It was true that his brothers had taken it from Templar hands, always a good thing, but otherwise it was just another pretty bauble with little use. Lex shrugged.

"Maybe it's one of those Eden things you were talking about before?" A thought struck him. "Hey, maybe that thing could get us home. It's supposed to be some kind of mystical thing, right?"

This line of thought brought on a whole new set of problems. Maybe that thing was a Piece of Eden. Jameel shook his head again. The risk wasn't worth it.

"Lex, think. If we decide to do anything, not that we are, think about what I'm going to say. How are we going to get it without the Grandmaster noticing? Not only that, we don't know what it does. It could melt the flesh off our bones." Or turn us into ground meat, or inside out. Whatever, his thoughts added. His mind was divided between extreme curiosity and the fear that when he found out what the thing did, he didn't want to stop using it.

"Why do you think my friends always sent me in when the laws of physics posed the threat of maiming or killing us?" Lex murmured flatly, raising a brow as he met Jameel's eyes. "I could try and sneak it out. Mean, the old man only saw me going to poke the thing. He might think I came back. It wouldn't get anyone else in trouble then either." He gave a small, almost mischievous grin that didn't go above the corners of his mouth.

"I severely doubt he'd part with something like that, stolen or not." Jameel countered his grin with a glare that could have made the entire Middle East have freak blizzards if it had had the power. When he spoke again, his voice was dangerously low, "He'd probably kill you on the spot. If he made you run like that, then you don't stand a chance." Yes, the Grandmaster could and would kill him without any trouble if he tried anything like that. Desmond wouldn't be able to go home, and Altair's bloodline would collapse. Besides, he didn't want a Novice, especially his Novice, tangling with the Grandmaster over some item. No matter how shiny it happened to be.

Lex gulped and nodded as he felt the blood in his extremities freeze with the force of the glare. He nodded again when Jameel had finished speaking, fighting the urge to say, "Yessir." He forced himself to look away from Jameel and clenched his fists a few times to get his blood flowing again.

"Just..." Lex shifted his eyes back to his. Jameel's gaze had softened considerably. A raging blizzard had become a calm snowfall. "Don't think about that golden thing right now."

"Yeah. Sure." His heart couldn't decide whether it wanted to lodge in his throat and choke him or drop into his stomach and give him a stitch in his side. An urge brought on by sheer stupidity had made itself known in the Novice's mind. He clamped a lid on it quickly and returned his eyes to the wall beside him, lest the idiocy of it spur him to action.

Stop it! he railed against it mentally. Stop it, stop it! He ducked his head, curling his arms over his neck and head in an effort to get his breathing under control and shove that damned urge away that had lodged itself in him and refused to leave now that he was barred from thinking on anything but it.

Jameel kept his gaze soft as he looked at the boy, laying back down. A quick mental evaluation told him that he was on the fast track to recovering. He was still sore and looked like pulverized meat, but he'd been sitting up for a while, his ribs and arm were healing nicely, and the hole in his shoulder, despite itching like crazy, was disappearing. He could focus on the problem at hand. Namely, the boy who looked like he was going to start crying any minute.

"I know you want to go home," he said, chosing his words cautiously. "Hopefully, we'll find a way to get you and Desmond back home. A different way than the item on Al Mualim's desk. I personally don't trust that odd thing anyway."

"It's not that." The words came out strangled and forced. Lex leaned forward, now sitting on his knees, hands white-knuckled and grasping his jeans into a tight wad at the knees. If he could have reached back and disconnected his spine from his brain stem, if that would have gotten rid of the thing bothering him, he would have. But he couldn't, and he knew it wouldn't go away even if he could and did do that. "If"--He took a breath, tongue wetting his dry, chapped lips. His arms were shaking, nails digging into his palms to leave red crescents--"If do something absolutely stupid, idiotic, and insane, Jameel, promise not to kill me on the spot?"

Jameel sat up again, turning to the Sparrow. Concern and confusion warred on his face. Genuinely, confusion won out. What was Lex going to do now? Nail Desmond with a chicken so that it crapped on his head? Dance with a goat? Scare one of the servants witless?

"Um...yes. Yes, I promise," he said and waited patiently. Another breath was taken; the tremors in the boy's arms subsided.

Lex leaned over and kissed him.