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The crackle of a book's spine disturbed the early morning air of the room. Jameel's eyes skimmed over the swirling writing, right, left, right, left before the page was turned again. One hand held the book, turned its pages. The other was draped over Lex's waist. The younger man seemed to think his belly made a good pillow.

"Jameel?" The silence was finally broken. So much for that. The Red Owl turned another page, nodding. Lex continued, "So, a mattress is just a place to throw things, right?" Another nod. "What's thrown on it? Clothes, tools..." A pregnant pause. "Significant others?"

"Pfff..." The book met Jameel's face. Oh, God, I'm stuck with you. Little walking embarassment. He smiled against the parchment. Lifting the book up from his chin, he looked down at the Sparrow. "Let's get something to eat."

Gilbert awoke to something pecking at him. When he opened his eyes, he saw a bird sitting next to his knee, softly picking at a string that had come unraveled somehow. He rubbed at his eyes and sat up, but the bird didn't fly away. He saw now that it was a peregrine falcon, possibly a female from the size--she was large compared with the males he'd seen a few times around his home.

Gilbert stretched out his arm and watched as the peregrine hopped onto it. Tentatively, he reached over and touched her wing, lest she decide his fingers looked tastier than his clothes. Fortune favored him as she allowed herself to be patted, finding his sleeve another interesting piece of hay-stuck cloth to attack. The German smiled.

"Haven't seen one of you for a while, beautiful." When he stood and started to brush the hay from his tunic, the bird moved onto his shoulder and started preening his hair. She tugged at it and shook her head. "Must be nesting season, eh, dear? Take some of it, but don't leave me bald." The falcon answered with a loud "eek, eek" that set his ear to ringing, as if she could understand him. Gilbert shook his head, which caused the falcon to tug on his hair more. Perhaps, like any woman, she likes being complimented. "So, beautiful, help me search for a little sparrow, would you?" The falcon eeked again before flapping off. Shrugging, the tall Novice followed after her.

"G'morsche!" Gilbert lifted a brow at being addressed in the southern dialect of his own language, then saw where it had come from. The falcon had led him to the Sparrow, all right, as well as something that smelled good.

"Guten Morgen, Spaetzlein," greeted the taller man as he took a moment to stare at the shed shoes before putting his own with them and sitting down in a rough imitation of the men around him. The peregrine reclaimed his left shoulder and settled to nibbling at his ear. Lex smiled at the bird as Gilbert took in the men seated around him.

He noticed then that beside him was the odd lunatic that liked sleeping in hay, his hood down. He looked like any of the men there: dark of skin, hair, and eye, although, like himself, both his tunic and shirt were gray. Lex was seated beside the man Gilbert knew as the Red Owl in white robes, and opposite them was the man in the white robes with the blue over them--Malik--and another man in gray and white. This was Rauf, the German heard as he listened, and, he noted, one of the men with a full beard besides himself.

When he sat down, the men were laughing about something. Desmond leaned over and explained, "Lex still has an accent. He was telling them what he said and the word sounded botched."

Gilbert gave a little grin and answered with a whisper, "You speak this tongue pretty well for an Englishman. I fear my accent won't go away even if I grow to be a hundred twenty-two." He gave the men another passing glance, one to the other to the next. Apart from the brief greetings they'd given him and Desmond's slight conversation, they hadn't given him much more notice. Rauf offered him some odd looking bread, which he gladly accepted.

He sat back and listened to the voices around him. Malik was discussing something about horses with Rauf, with Jameel throwing a few comments in here and there. A few times Lex was drawn into speaking a few words. Desmond was explaining quickly to Gilbert which things tasted good with what. A spice dip had been set out with the bread, as well as a few vegetables of all things and yogurt. Hot, dark drinks were also around the men.

Lex and Desmond reached for more dip at the same time. Desmond slapped Lex's hand away.

"No double-dipping!"

"You triple-dipped!" the smaller man quipped, moving around his hand. The Novice moved to smack his hand again, only to receive a nice dollop of yogurt to the nose. The one-armed man reached over and grasped Desmond by the ear, hissing, "Novice," as the same was done to Lex by the Red Owl. The pair let out noises of displeasure and pain as they were pulled to sit beside the Masters. Rubbing his ear, the Sparrow reintroduced Gilbert to the men he knew and to the men he didn't.

The men greeted him in return. Soon enough, the conversation had picked up where it left off. Lex nodded to the reprimand Jameel gave him, still rubbing his ear. He snorted as a glob of yogurt was nearly stuffed up his nose, wiping it off with his hand and licking it from there. Shaking his head, he hid his face into his cup of black liquid. Malik and Desmond were discussing something animatedly, too quickly for Gilbert to follow, prodding at one another or making gestures as Rauf and Jameel watched, sipping their drinks.

The German ventured to try his own drink. It was bitter but refreshing and made his mind much clearer. He snuck a little of the dip and popped the bread into his mouth. This is delicious. He smiled into his beard. Far better than that worm-eaten millet they gave us in Acre. He was surprised at how quickly the little quarrel had been settled.

The elder Assassins didn't seem to be angry with them. There was no painful punishment to be administered, no yelling of going to be placed into a cell. They had simply been shown their place, much as his elder brother had done with him long ago. The way these men were nigh on astonished him.

At points he couldn't tell if he was in the company of military madmen or an odd family. He tried to gain a little more insight by watching them closely. Malik seemed a sage or councelor from the way he spoke, but seeing his hand's movements he realized this man had been or even still was a skilled warrior. Desmond's face was leaned in close to the other man's, so that it looked like their noses almost brushed. Rauf had disappeared after draining his cup, off to attend to his duties with a nod to each of them.

Jameel gave nothing away, sitting still and relaxed. The German found his mentor almost obscenely close to the man, all but using him to recline on as he tilted his head back and drained his cup. Small smacking sounds could be heard from the cup before Lex set it down. Jameel gave him a look, to which the Journeyman grinned sheepishly.

The Eagle stood after retrieving his shoes and gave them a quick farewell. Jameel nudged Lex's shoulder. The younger man looked at him confusedly before realization dawned on him. He snuck another glob of dipped bread and popped it into his mouth, dancing away from a swatting hand as he grabbed his boots and waved for Gilbert to follow.

The two men rejoined Desmond in the training yard. The smaller time traveler tilted his head at the barkeep. The man clapped his hands together and rubbed them up and down.

"Mission from Malik?" asked Lex.

"Mission from Malik." He popped his arms. "All right. Start's here and we're going down the hard way, jumping off the little ledges here and then leaping into the cart, going over the roofs and the out to the horses. After that, it's every man for himself out to Damas." The time travelers grinned at Gilbert and took off running across the ground, kicking up dust as they shot headlong for the drops.

Gilbert trotted after them. Desmond rolled as Lex hopped ahead of him. The two were soon making the other man eat their dust, mostly for his being two or three steps behind them. They flung themselves into the air, scattering the roosting pigeons as their laughter turned to screeches. Rising from the hay, the younger men hurried along the roofs. Now this is really what you call a challenge, thought the German as he hurried along to catch up. The place was beginning to grow on him the more it reminded him of his childhood, of balancing far above the harbor.

His lungs were afire as he reached their destination at the stables, the two men already awaiting with a horse. Swinging astride the animal, he looked over his shoulder at the mountain towering behind him. It seemed difficult to believe he'd gotten down from there in such an unusual way, but here he stood.

He looked up as he heard a whistle. His mentor and the Eagle waved to him. Gilbert grinned as he put his heels to his horse. They thundered down the path. A fourth rider joined them, riding a bay, his face covered by a cloth, hood drawn up. Desmond let out an odd noise as they went, sounding as if in pain, "Ayayaayaay!" while Lex responded with a laughing, "Yee-haw! Hahaha!"

Gilbert shook his head and laughed as the rider gave them a salute and pulled away. Clapping his heels to his horse again, he caught up with the others.





They rode until sunset without giving themselves a rest, finally reaching the outer district of Damas.

The men dismounted, panting and laughing. Desmond tugged at Lex's sleeve, pointing to a group of robed men walking toward the gates. Dragging Gilbert after them, the two assumed a position of prayer, heads bowed, hands clasped together. The scholars eyed Gilbert, then the other two Assassins. Shaking their heads and muttering about insane travelers, they went inside, parting the guards for them.

Once they'd passed the last pair of guards, the trio split off from the group. Lex turned to the others.

"All right, now we find the Bureau."

"On it," Desmond said as he clambored up the nearest building to get a better view. The men below looked up at him as he pointed and prepared to get down when...

"You!" Lex whirled around. It was the innkeeper. "You! Get back here! You need to pay me, you little thief!" If Lex had known the word, he would have called the event serendipitous for the man coming toward him. Instead, the little Journeyman let out an undignified scream and took off running in the direction Desmond had shown. The innkeeper made to run after him, only to find himself running on air. He looked up at the blonde, bearded man restraining him, then at the coins proffered by his hand.

It was a large hand. He took the coins.