Fleeting

Altaïr sat silently against the pillows and rugs at the bureau; he’d made himself a sort nest not long after Malik had left and proceeded to pass the time away studying a few texts he’d found on his travels, why a seemingly benign looking old lady was selling recipes for poisons was a mystery to the Assassin but he was grateful she’d let him have them for so little. At some point he’d had to light a few candles, night had closed in unexpectedly around him and Malik returned silently just before the sky blackened completely – he’d said nothing; his interest seemed to be in finishing a report in the other room. Altaïr assumed he was licking his wounds from a lecture he no doubt received from the ever-temperamental Nazeera and left him alone. “Altaïr…” The others voice carried through the silent bureau, it seemed Malik had recovered his tongue.

The hazel-eyed Assassin put down his things and wandered through, he leaned against the doorway studying his friend. Malik had his head in his hand; he looked tired – old even, perhaps being trapped in the bureau for so many years was wearing him down. Had he been sat here in the barely lit room all this that time? “What is it? Has something happened?” he strode into the room, a crease between his brows and a frown set on his lips, “Malik?” Altaïr stood before him and yet the other had not spoken.

This wasn’t an easy thing to plan out, how did you tell your most treasured friend to stop seeing someone because your woman was upset by it. Of course Nazeera was upset! Though Malik had long forgiven Altaïr for the loss of his left arm and his brother’s life, she had not; possibly she never would. She hated Altaïr with a passion nearly as strong as her defiant nature, if Altaïr was in love with Azurelle, perhaps she would be more forgiving – but he wasn’t, so Nazeera wanted him as far away from her baby sister as possible before any real damage was done. Malik had to agree; Altaïr was going to break her heart in the long run. “This girl you are chasing, her name is Azurelle isn’t it?” Malik took note of Altaïr’s suddenly alert expression, had it really been such a well-guarded secret all this time? Wasn’t it a nothing affair?

“Has something happened to her?!” the Assassin’s body went rigid, he’d only seen her a few hours ago, something in the back of his mind kept niggling away at him about her behaviour and the changes he’d noticed, “is she ill?” Malik looked up at him owlishly, was Altaïr worrying over his little fling? “Malik! Tell me!”

The darker man sat up, the faintest of smirks gracing his features and his eyes glittered with genuine interest as he leant back, “I thought she was not important? If she is sick, Nazeera told me nothing of it; she did, however, tell me my fortunes if I don’t stop you from seeing her. Altaïr, what are you doing? Azurelle’s a child!”

“She’s nineteen.”

“Eighteen. And she is practically my little sister!” He’d known her for eight years, wherever Nazeera went she had a little grey eyed shadow with her, Altaïr was messing around with a girl Malik had watched grow up; not to mention Kadar had always adored her and insisted on looking after her whenever possible. “Leave her alone, Altaïr. If you don’t we are going to lose our main source of outside help.”

“You mean you are going to lose your main source of sex.” Altaïr glared down at the other Assassin, what right did he have to tell him whom he saw in his own time. Their friendship was shaky at the best of times but this seemed ridiculous – Malik was only using Nazeera as an informant because it kept the woman near, their own Assassin’s, novices included, were perfectly able to gather their own information! He’d already called the Dai up on his strange choice after he’d returned from his travels across the world, the only reason he’d allowed it was because he was trusting Malik’s decisions while he was gone, they were going to work together to lead the Brotherhood. “We don’t need them anyway, only Nazeera and Azurelle are aware that they are helping us – their Troupe is non-plussed!”

Malik stood up abruptly, his chair clattered to the ground from the jerky movement, “you seem to be confusing your sleazy affair involving a girl nine years younger than you with my actual relationship with Nazeera!” they glowered solemnly at each other, the desk keeping them at a short distance apart, this wasn’t how Malik wanted it to be, he was hoping that Altaïr would just agree and that would be the end of it. But no, he had to be difficult; he always had to be stubborn and impossible! “Must you take this from me too?”
Altaïr was taken aback by the sound of defeat in the other’s voice, the fall of his head in what seemed like a terrible submission and he once again seemed tired. Sighing, Altaïr looked at the older man, guilt clutching maddeningly inside his chest; Malik was tired. Tired of being stuck in the tiny bureau of Jerusalem, tired of being Altaïr’s second in everything, tired of not being able to do anything more than watch from the side lines and he was taking it out on Altaïr.

“That’s not fair…if I could restore your arm and give you back Kadar, I would…you know I would!”

“I do know. And no, it is not fair.” He looked up to meet hazel, a sting stabbed through him at the guilt-ridden look he saw but he had to ignore it. “Something else that isn’t fair is you using a young, naïve girl as a substitute for that Templer woman you were left by at the docks. If she returns will you leave Azurelle in the dust for a woman you spent nearly three years travelling with? Or was Maria also a nice little distraction?” Malik sighed, “Altaïr, I care for Nazeera, I love the annoying nit even! When the time comes she will be coming with me to Masyaf!” Altaïr blinked in surprise, he’d known Malik was serious about the woman but not that serious! “Listen to me, Altaïr…are you really going to destroy me so thoroughly for a girl you say is nothing to you?” it shamed him to utter such a thing, he knew it hurt Altaïr to hear but it was for the best – he’d convinced himself it was for Azurelle’s sake more than for his and Nazeera’s own. “Girls, Azurelle’s age, are foolish, what will you do when she falls in love with you?”

What would he do? It was nothing, wasn’t it…an affair that was supposed to be fleeting, a way for two people who maybe came across the other every now and then to lose themselves. For six months he and the acrobat had skirted cautiously around each other, like two ships wary of crashing into the other and sinking into the ocean if they became too close, they passed each other instead; flirting, kissing, fucking, but never closer than that. They didn’t walk hand in hand down the streets, they never knew when next they’d meet and neither cared to look for the other…he cared for her of course, she was like any other member of the Brotherhood, a family member that deserved respect and care. He would not abandon her completely but perhaps it was best to stop now – before something like a silly girl’s feelings would sink them both. “Very well.” Altaïr agreed, he leant over the desk and rested his hand on Malik’s shoulder, “I will do as you ask…just make sure Nazeera’s part in this is explained to her sister should things go wrong.”

Malik nodded once, his hand reaching up to squeeze Altaïr’s firmly, “Thank you…surely it is better this way?”

00

“Nazeera! You’re becoming sloppy with your footwork! Nikeel! Higher, boy! You perform like that later and I’ll leave you here!” The acrobatic Troupe was practicing for later on that morning, the man yelling was their master, Gyani, a tall, middle-aged man originally from India with a lifetime’s knowledge of performing arts, acrobatics, ballet, song and dance. He knew what he was talking about when he yelled at them and so they never complained – especially as he fed them, provided them with clothing and shelter; they worked to pay him back. “Azurelle! What is wrong with you, girl?!” He marched over to where she was hunched on the ground, “you picked a fine day to be sick!” he yelled and hauled her up by her arm.
As horrible as he seemed to outsiders, he did care about the people who worked under him, but he expected to be paid back double for what he had spent to keep them alive, so when his little protégé kept letting him down, he couldn’t help but be angry with her.

“Master!” Nazeera had appeared behind him and placed her hands on his shoulder, “She just needs rest…we’ve been out here at dawn until late into the afternoon every day for nearly a month! You know she is capable enough to miss a little practice…she will be too burnt out by the time the festival comes if she doesn’t rest more!” he let Azurelle go, Nazeera was right; he’d been working them harder than ever even though he knew his Troupe was infallible. He just wanted people to see what this little family could do.

He looked at the two girls in defeat, Azurelle had been raised by his wife until she had died and Nazeera was very much a daughter to him, if she had been older he probably would have married her! “Fine,” he conceded and called them all to attention, “Collect your costumes and make-up, our customer has prepared a room for you to get ready in.” They had just less than three hours until they were expected to delight a room full of people, it wouldn’t hurt to be early. Gyani took a moment to yell at one of the younger members about his posture when being thrown into the air, ‘people don’t want to see a shit scared acrobat!’ The Troupe consisted of seven performers; six dedicated to flipping, flying, balancing and awe inspiring feats of which included Azurelle, song and dance was wholly dominated by Nazeera, one of the taller men often accompanied her when he wasn’t balancing on his twin’s head single handed.

A boy close to Azurelle's age came up beside the girl with a frown, “What is wrong, sister? Did you eat something bad?”

“I don’t think so, Nikeel…it’s like Nazeera said, I’m just exhausted…it’ll pass by the time we’re ready to amaze those rich bastards at the mansion!” She gave him a bright smile and ruffled his hair affectionately; he returned her smile before running off to speak with his friend. She was aware that her older sister was hovering behind her, “Go away, I am not talking to you.”

“Doesn’t sound like it.” Came the rebuff, “Can we not behave like adults? Angry words were said and you can’t blame me for hitting the roof! My baby sister is off having sex with Assassins on roofs! It isn’t exactly what I had hoped for you.”

“Assassin. One!” Azurelle snapped, her stare set straight ahead as she followed everyone else, “besides, you said I was a child so I will behave like one for you.” She was not going to forgive the woman for speaking to her like she was a cheap whore the day before.

00

Cheering and gasps of delight filled Altaïr’s ears as he slipped in through the large arched window of the room being used as the Troupe’s dressing room, no one would be coming in for a while by the sounds coming from the main room. He slipped out of the door and kept himself close to the wall, Malik had told him there were no guards inside, all he had to do was not be seen and get his hands on Nur-ul-Qiblatayn – and his most specific order from Malik; do not let Nazeera spot him. The woman was beginning to really fray his patience. He looked into the room just in time to see Azurelle thrown into the air, nearly touching the high ceiling as she somersaulted gracefully before being caught by one of the other men, who then helped her onto an identical man’s shoulders as they set up for the next feat. Altaïr couldn’t help an approving nod of his head; she moved better than any of the other Assassins, she ran faster across the rooftops too. He saw his target sat on the sea of pillows that littered the room, Nazeera was beside him, her hand stroking along his shoulders as she offered him a drink. She was supposed to drug his drinks until he felt queasy enough that he’d have to leave his company, the dressing room was the closest room should he decide to lose his breakfast, which is where Altaïr would strike; with a last glance at the man he returned to his hiding spot behind the door.

From the yelling, Altaïr assumed the first part of the act was done, so, where was his man? He hated to be kept waiting for something as trivial as this. Rushed footsteps sounded in his ears and he sprung into action, his body moving with practised ease. The door opened and a colourful blur burst into the room, the Assassin let his body lead, his right hand covered the others mouth, his left gripping their neck tightly; part of him wanted to snap the small neck but he needed information first. He noticed the lack of a struggle and soon realised he’d been, in Malik’s words, a complete novice. “What are you doing here?” Altaïr hissed angrily but let the brunette go, he watched her cross the room – what was she doing? He ignored Azurelle; it was her dressing room after all. Instead he peeked out of the doorway where music was drifting through, that weedy little bastard was still sat smiling and laughing with the other men, “Why is he not reacting to the herbs in his drink?”

“Because he’s not drinking anything!” came the rough reply from behind a curtained off part of the room, most likely where they’d changed clothing in privacy, he frowned as she coughed loudly and it sounded as if she was having trouble breathing before she replied, “he’s not thirsty, it’s all too exciting for him apparently.” Altaïr huffed, at this rate he’d have to hope Qiblatayn liked to walk alone in the streets! “Altaïr…” her voice was quiet and the Assassin had to strain his ears to hear her muffled voice through the curtain. He made a noise in the back of his throat, not wanting to move from the door in case his fortunes changed, “There’s a jug of water beside you, the one with lemons floating in it…can you bring me some?” there was a silent pause and then, “please.”

He hesitated for a moment, why didn’t she do it herself? He was on a mission; he didn’t have time to play around with the brunette. “Are you still feeling unwell?” Azurelle didn’t answer him, he took that as a ‘yes’, doing as she asked and pulling the curtain aside the Assassin could only stare down at her. She was sat in the corner, arms crossed over her stomach, knees against her chest, and her head rested on top of them. “I told you to rest.” Azurelle raised her head to look back at the Assassin, a small smile on her painted, red lips; all around her eyes was decorated with tiny gems and a strange blue powder that matched the pins and decorations in her bunched up hair.

She noticed his eyes linger at her hair, “And I’ve told you about respecting my belongings, I had to buy new hair pins because of you.” He handed her the cup and she sipped gingerly at it as her stomach turned over and over; her face scrunched up at the taste of lemon but it was better than bile. “Thank you.” The acrobat stood up carefully using the wall for support, she couldn’t hide here all day, Gyani would be furious with her if she didn’t appear in time for the next part of the act.
Altaïr couldn’t help letting his eyes wander all over her body, the outfit she wore was very flattering to say the least; it was made from satin, a deep blue with silver motifs across her hips, she was sewn into the skimpy outfit from the back, from the base of her spine to her neck she was wrapped. There was a loose skirt in silver that barely covered the tops of her thighs obviously there for decoration and that was all she wore. Nothing more covered her frame, “I’m surprised that your lack of clothing did not have every man in that room follow you back,” of course he would have killed every one of them but that was beside the point. “A-Altaïr…don’t! There isn’t much to this and it stains very easily.” He’d leant down and nuzzled her neck, his stubble grazing her skin – she smelled amazing, was it her hair or perfume?

“I won’t leave anything on your clothing.” She punched his shoulder; he knew what she meant! Barely concealing his smug smile, Altaïr pulled his head away but kept his arm wrapped around her waist, his other hand was busy tracing foreign patterns along the smooth material across her ribs and then her stomach where he stopped dead. That wasn’t normal.

“How about I lure him in here!” she suggested suddenly, not noticing how he had tensed up and was now using both hands to feel her mid section, his eyes had widened slightly and a tremor invaded his hands making him want to tear the gloves off just so he knew he wasn’t wrong. “Altaïr, are you listening to me?” no, he wasn’t; he’d heard her but his mind wasn’t processing her words, only the very miniscule change in her body, what had she said yesterday? Lately she’d been feeling sick, dizzy, then there was the physical evidence, her body was more sensitive, especially her breasts and now in his hands a very small but definite bump. It was barely even noticeable. “Come back to me!”

Altaïr snapped back to attention and took her face into his hands, “You are with child.” He said bluntly.

“What?!” Azurelle exclaimed, what was he talking about – did she hear him right? She opened her mouth to ask him to repeat himself when the room’s door opened and whoever it was screamed:

“ASSASSIN!!”

000


3.33am…and I started typing at 4 pm…good old procrastination! I’m at work tomorrow so don’t hope for chapter four anytime soon!

WhatEverLoz: Anything with Malik involved is just epic! Here, eat this bag of virtual cookies!