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"My, my. Your climbing skills are well below par."

With a scowl and a look that could kill, Felix kicked his legs, scrambling up onto the flat, sun-blistered roof above the market. His fingers slid over the dusty surface, and only Adlai's strong hand snatching his wrist, hauling him up, kept him from hitting the ground far below.

"Can't you at least try, child?"
Felix shook off Adlai's grip, frowning at the older assassin. "Your father told you not to call me 'child'."
Adlai spluttered. "I am near eight years older than you. I may call you what I please."

Felix shot a look at his companion, earning a jeering laugh. "Here, come. Crouch by me. Stay away from that side of the rooftop. I sense guards are not far away."

Felix knelt beside his mentor, watching the older assassin idly spin a knife between his deft fingers. The blade flashed in the sunlight, almost distracting him from the blast of bright red that flowered the crowd, blowing in the breeze.

"Who is she?"

Adlai shrugged, wholly disinterested; Felix could not prise his eyes away from her. She was small, slim, a tiny package of beauty. Her face was large, lips and eyes painted, hair as black as ebony and flowing out behind her in torrents. She was clothed in red, a striking colour that piqued the interest of all those who surrounded her.

She danced through the market, smiling at strangers, waving her fingers. Wooden bangles jangled on her wrists and beads were strung around her neck and ankles.

"Our path to the north viewpoint is relatively clear, though we should scale the central…Felix, are you listening to me, or watching that courtesan?"
Felix blushed and jerked his head away, wobbling ungracefully on the edge of the rooftop. "She isn't a courtesan. She can't be. She must be a princess."
"Of course she is. Watch this."

Adlai swung nimbly down from the rooftop, catching the window ledge and kicking off to a long pole. He spun down it and landed softly on the dusty ground in the centre of the market, drawing his sword and twirling it between his fingertips.

Whispers circulated as civilians watched his blade slice through the air, and at once the girl in red turned to him, swaying her hips, curving her scarlet lips into a predatory grin. Felix wobbled again, clutching the edge of the rooftop. My, how beautiful she was!

One eye stayed on Adlai as he strolled through the crowd, whistling softly. She danced over to him, stretching out a hand, then turning her palm upwards and beckoning him with a lithe finger.

Felix's heart bounced into his throat as Adlai stopped, mouthed something that made her recoil, and started off down a side street.

Did he not wish to bask in her beauty like all others? She dashed off down another street, weaving through the crowd, leaving the marketplace and Felix's eyeline.

He frowned and watched a big black beetle wander over his tight leather boot, mind miles away. The girl's face stayed imprinted into his mind, a thick film of beauty that blocked rational thought from his scatterbrained mind. What was her name? where could he meet her? Surely she was not a courtesan. Surely she was a princess, a fair maiden who would offer her hand to him.

"I told you," laughed Adlai, grabbing Felix's scruff and pulling him up to his feet. Felix struggled, but not hard enough; his thoughts still resided with the girl. "Boy, only the most masochistic of men allow themselves to fall for a courtesan. You would be far better off sticking with what you know."

Adlai dropped him and kicked off the edge of the building, leaping clear over the street, rolling as he hit the surface of the other rooftop. "Come on, Felix. Hurry."

Felix hurled himself across the gap, falling in a heap on the other side. Adlai laughed and bounded across several rafters, spinning in the air, landing on his hands on the other side. He frog leaped over a chimney stack, bouncing over another gap like a cricket.

Felix did his best to follow, and Adlai did his best to remain patient; the younger boy knew it, but the look on his mentor's face told him that he was near breaking point.

By the time the reached the north viewpoint after clearing a small pocket of guards, slowing a clumsily due to Felix's poor aim, Adlai was exhausted, and his pupil thoroughly disheartened. They dropped down among the streets after discovering several loopholes; Adlai tiredly ordered his student to a simple eavesdrop, while he proceeded to interrogate, a mission Felix would have rather swam the Nile than tackle himself.

Felix wandered the streets, watching the oblivious merchants and customers go about their business in the bustling throes of the city. Children raced past him, laughing, playing together--just as he had in Masyaf when he was still innocent of the Brotherhood.

But he no longer wished to be innocent. He had made a promise to his father, a promise that he would achieve what he had, become Grand Master and continue his peaceful reign of the Syrian assassins. He would reach such a goal, no matter what the cost.

The two marks drew near and Felix took to a bench, between an older man and woman, two oblivious citizens enjoying the mid-afternoon sunshine. He leaned forward on his white-clothed knees, clasping his gloved hands, craning his neck slightly to listen to the voices of the men.

Their words faded into the crowd. He shifted across the bench, but couldn't move too far for the gentleman seated beside him. The men whispered, too low for him to hear, and he could feel a squirm of panic in his stomach as they wandered away, lost to him.

"Excuse me?"

He jumped, floundering, almost falling from the bench. Red fabric blew across the dusty ground, tickling the toes of his boots. He shot his head up, head swimming as his gaze locked with hers.

"Are you one of them?"

He voice was a tiny whisper, soft and sweet, but still his eyes darted here and there. Exposure was one of the most terrifying things he could imagine, and without Adlai, he felt like a sitting duck.

"Um…"
She smiled, a gesture that lit up her whole face and stretched her full, vibrantly painted lips. "My name is Shakibah. What is yours?"
"Felix."

She nodded, smile fading to just a curve of her mouth. She jerked her head, gesturing for him to follow her; mesmerised, he did. She wandered down the street, hands on hips, gathering stares and lustful looks from those who surrounded them.

She said nothing, but the sway of her hips spoke a thousand words. When would she tell him of her status? Would she soon fell comfortable enough to reveal her royal position? His eye drew to the beads around her neck, dipping down to the folds of filmy scarlet fabric that stretched across he sizable chest.

He swallowed hard, wondering if she knew he was staring. Where was she taking him?

The crowds thinned and they turned into a less busy market place, just shy of the Dome of the Rock. She wandered around the stalls, brushing her lithe fingers over pottery, wood carvings, as if to experience everything through touch as well as sight.

"You are pale. Why are you so pale?"
Felix cleared his throat, crossing and uncrossing his arms. "I do not know."
She chuckled. Her own skin was as dark, like creamy coffee. Spotless, smooth and shiny, under the heat of the baking sun.

"My parents taught me to be wary of white men," she giggled, forcing a strange pinch of uncertainty deep in Felix's chest. "But I should not be wary of you. Assassin."

"Shh," he hissed. She laughed, scrunching the soft sandy earth between her bare toes. "Do not set yourself so far on edge. Your friend is busy."
"How do you know?"
"I spotted him on the way to meeting you. He was tailing a man through the streets, a preacher. He will be busy for some time."

Felix gulped, glancing over his shoulder, cracking all of the joints in his hands as nervousness slid up his spine, chilling his skin even under the heat of the afternoon sun.

"Felix," she purred. "Do not worry."
"Adlai will be mad if he finds that I failed my mission."

She smiled and turned to face him, bracing herself against a low wall, hands spread flat on the masonry. "Adlai. That's his name, is it? It seems like a name a girl would have."
"No," Felix muttered. "Adlai is a real man. He is more of a man that I will ever be."
"Is this Adlai betrothed? Married?"
Felix frowned. "No, he is not. And nor am I."

She grinned, a dark expression that flashed her set of straight white teeth. "Do you wish to find a wife, Felix?"
"No, he does not," spat a voice behind the boy, before a strong hand snatched his shoulder and hauled him back.
"Adlai!" Felix squealed, trying to shove off his hand as he gave Shakibah a wistful look. She waved her fingers at him as Adlai dragged him away, out of sight.

"Adlai, let me go!"
"If you thought being Grand Master consisted of cavorting with courtesans and passing off easy missions, you were wrong."

Felix smacked Adlai's hand away, stumbling as his mentor shoved him forward, almost sending him to his knees. He opened his mouth to protest, but the look of sheer fury from Adlai silenced him; he followed on behind and both assassins headed for the rooftop above the city gates, escaping from Jerusalem in silence.

* * *

The sharp talk from Malik following the mission was enough to force anyone to tears, and Felix was no exception. He had been banished away from the bureau throne in disgrace, and when night fell, he sloped away and flopped upon his bed of plush cushions at the top of the east turret, exhausted.

"Felix?"

The whisper was feminine and barely audible, but still he jumped in response to it. As soon as Nahla slunk into the dark chamber, her eyes a liquid black against the starry night sky that beckoned through the wide gaps in the opposite end of the room.

"What are you doing here?" he whispered, propping himself up on his elbows. She crawled across the floor in her thin white nightgown, a loose shapeless dress of filmy fabric that covered her shoulders and hung to her ankles.

"I couldn't sleep. Did my father beat you? It sounded as if he did."
"He did not," Felix muttered. "But he was angry. Angrier than I have seen him before. Adlai was cruel, too."

"Adlai takes missions seriously," she whispered. "Well, as seriously as Adlai can take anything."
"He wanted to go with Mustafa. Not me."
Nahla scrunched her brow and a long lock of shiny black hair tumbled down her forehead, reaching past her chest. "Why Mustafa?"
Felix gave a hopeless shrug. "He is competent."

"I don't care for Mustafa," she sighed, scooting on to the soft rug he lay on, crossing her legs. "Or Salim. If you don't protest to my saying so."
"I don't care much for Salim either," he stated. "Ever since he began training others he has become rude. And grumpy."
"And cocky."

Felix sniggered and flicker her gently on the arm. She mimed a slap to the side of his head, grinning through the dark.

"I saw a girl today," Felix whispered. "She was beautiful."
Nahla drew back her hand and the smile drained away from her face. "A girl?"
"Adlai said she was a courtesan, but she can't possibly be. I decided that she was a princess. Her name is Shakibah, and I shall seek her out next time I take a trip to Jerusalem."

Nahla's gaze hardened. "What did she look like?"
"A goddess," he murmured, in a dreamy way that irked Nahla. "I have never seen anyone like her. She wore red. Such flamboyant, daring scarlet, and I saw her in the crowd as soon as she appeared. She spoke to me, Nahla, and it was like she was singing."

Felix crossed his legs, gripping his own ankles as excitement stirred in his stomach. He could feel the grin on his face and made no attempt to hide it; Shakibah was all he could think about. All he would dream about.

Nahla's upper lip stiffened and she rose slowly to her feet, but Felix's grin didn't waver. She turned on her heel, determined not to show her burning jealousy; not mean feat as Felix lay back on his bed, clearly dreaming of this courtesan girl from Jerusalem.

"Goodbye, Felix."
"Oh. Bye, Nahla."

She quickly dipped her foot on to the ladder and slid down it, resisting the urge to tense her knuckles until they were white. Dropping down on the grainy floor below, she hurried off out of the chamber, across the battlement and down to her own room, collapsing on the floor among the cushions.

Cushions that now, in the stiff, lonely darkness, seemed as hard as rocks.

Description
"My, my. Your climbing skills are well below par."

With a scowl and a look that could kill, Felix kicked his legs, scrambling up onto the flat, sun-blistered roof above the market. His fingers slid over the dusty surface, and only Adlai's strong hand snatching his wrist, hauling him up, kept him from hitting the ground far below.

"Can't you at least try, child?"
Felix shook off Adlai's grip, frowning at the older assassin. "Your father told you not to call me 'child'."
Adlai spluttered. "I am near eight years older than you. I may call you what I please."

Felix shot a look at his companion, earning a jeering laugh. "Here, come. Crouch by me. Stay away from that side of the rooftop. I sense guards are not far away."

Felix knelt beside his mentor, watching the older assassin idly spin a knife between his deft fingers. The blade flashed in the sunlight, almost distracting him from the blast of bright red that flowered the crowd, blowing in the breeze.

"Who is she?"

Adlai shrugged, wholly disinterested; Felix could not prise his eyes away from her. She was small, slim, a tiny package of beauty. Her face was large, lips and eyes painted, hair as black as ebony and flowing out behind her in torrents. She was clothed in red, a striking colour that piqued the interest of all those who surrounded her.

She danced through the market, smiling at strangers, waving her fingers. Wooden bangles jangled on her wrists and beads were strung around her neck and ankles.

"Our path to the north viewpoint is relatively clear, though we should scale the central…Felix, are you listening to me, or watching that courtesan?"
Felix blushed and jerked his head away, wobbling ungracefully on the edge of the rooftop. "She isn't a courtesan. She can't be. She must be a princess."
"Of course she is. Watch this."

Adlai swung nimbly down from the rooftop, catching the window ledge and kicking off to a long pole. He spun down it and landed softly on the dusty ground in the centre of the market, drawing his sword and twirling it between his fingertips.

Whispers circulated as civilians watched his blade slice through the air, and at once the girl in red turned to him, swaying her hips, curving her scarlet lips into a predatory grin. Felix wobbled again, clutching the edge of the rooftop. My, how beautiful she was!

One eye stayed on Adlai as he strolled through the crowd, whistling softly. She danced over to him, stretching out a hand, then turning her palm upwards and beckoning him with a lithe finger.

Felix's heart bounced into his throat as Adlai stopped, mouthed something that made her recoil, and started off down a side street.

Did he not wish to bask in her beauty like all others? She dashed off down another street, weaving through the crowd, leaving the marketplace and Felix's eyeline.

He frowned and watched a big black beetle wander over his tight leather boot, mind miles away. The girl's face stayed imprinted into his mind, a thick film of beauty that blocked rational thought from his scatterbrained mind. What was her name? where could he meet her? Surely she was not a courtesan. Surely she was a princess, a fair maiden who would offer her hand to him.

"I told you," laughed Adlai, grabbing Felix's scruff and pulling him up to his feet. Felix struggled, but not hard enough; his thoughts still resided with the girl. "Boy, only the most masochistic of men allow themselves to fall for a courtesan. You would be far better off sticking with what you know."

Adlai dropped him and kicked off the edge of the building, leaping clear over the street, rolling as he hit the surface of the other rooftop. "Come on, Felix. Hurry."

Felix hurled himself across the gap, falling in a heap on the other side. Adlai laughed and bounded across several rafters, spinning in the air, landing on his hands on the other side. He frog leaped over a chimney stack, bouncing over another gap like a cricket.

Felix did his best to follow, and Adlai did his best to remain patient; the younger boy knew it, but the look on his mentor's face told him that he was near breaking point.

By the time the reached the north viewpoint after clearing a small pocket of guards, slowing a clumsily due to Felix's poor aim, Adlai was exhausted, and his pupil thoroughly disheartened. They dropped down among the streets after discovering several loopholes; Adlai tiredly ordered his student to a simple eavesdrop, while he proceeded to interrogate, a mission Felix would have rather swam the Nile than tackle himself.

Felix wandered the streets, watching the oblivious merchants and customers go about their business in the bustling throes of the city. Children raced past him, laughing, playing together--just as he had in Masyaf when he was still innocent of the Brotherhood.

But he no longer wished to be innocent. He had made a promise to his father, a promise that he would achieve what he had, become Grand Master and continue his peaceful reign of the Syrian assassins. He would reach such a goal, no matter what the cost.

The two marks drew near and Felix took to a bench, between an older man and woman, two oblivious citizens enjoying the mid-afternoon sunshine. He leaned forward on his white-clothed knees, clasping his gloved hands, craning his neck slightly to listen to the voices of the men.

Their words faded into the crowd. He shifted across the bench, but couldn't move too far for the gentleman seated beside him. The men whispered, too low for him to hear, and he could feel a squirm of panic in his stomach as they wandered away, lost to him.

"Excuse me?"

He jumped, floundering, almost falling from the bench. Red fabric blew across the dusty ground, tickling the toes of his boots. He shot his head up, head swimming as his gaze locked with hers.

"Are you one of them?"

He voice was a tiny whisper, soft and sweet, but still his eyes darted here and there. Exposure was one of the most terrifying things he could imagine, and without Adlai, he felt like a sitting duck.

"Um…"
She smiled, a gesture that lit up her whole face and stretched her full, vibrantly painted lips. "My name is Shakibah. What is yours?"
"Felix."

She nodded, smile fading to just a curve of her mouth. She jerked her head, gesturing for him to follow her; mesmerised, he did. She wandered down the street, hands on hips, gathering stares and lustful looks from those who surrounded them.

She said nothing, but the sway of her hips spoke a thousand words. When would she tell him of her status? Would she soon fell comfortable enough to reveal her royal position? His eye drew to the beads around her neck, dipping down to the folds of filmy scarlet fabric that stretched across he sizable chest.

He swallowed hard, wondering if she knew he was staring. Where was she taking him?

The crowds thinned and they turned into a less busy market place, just shy of the Dome of the Rock. She wandered around the stalls, brushing her lithe fingers over pottery, wood carvings, as if to experience everything through touch as well as sight.

"You are pale. Why are you so pale?"
Felix cleared his throat, crossing and uncrossing his arms. "I do not know."
She chuckled. Her own skin was as dark, like creamy coffee. Spotless, smooth and shiny, under the heat of the baking sun.

"My parents taught me to be wary of white men," she giggled, forcing a strange pinch of uncertainty deep in Felix's chest. "But I should not be wary of you. Assassin."

"Shh," he hissed. She laughed, scrunching the soft sandy earth between her bare toes. "Do not set yourself so far on edge. Your friend is busy."
"How do you know?"
"I spotted him on the way to meeting you. He was tailing a man through the streets, a preacher. He will be busy for some time."

Felix gulped, glancing over his shoulder, cracking all of the joints in his hands as nervousness slid up his spine, chilling his skin even under the heat of the afternoon sun.

"Felix," she purred. "Do not worry."
"Adlai will be mad if he finds that I failed my mission."

She smiled and turned to face him, bracing herself against a low wall, hands spread flat on the masonry. "Adlai. That's his name, is it? It seems like a name a girl would have."
"No," Felix muttered. "Adlai is a real man. He is more of a man that I will ever be."
"Is this Adlai betrothed? Married?"
Felix frowned. "No, he is not. And nor am I."

She grinned, a dark expression that flashed her set of straight white teeth. "Do you wish to find a wife, Felix?"
"No, he does not," spat a voice behind the boy, before a strong hand snatched his shoulder and hauled him back.
"Adlai!" Felix squealed, trying to shove off his hand as he gave Shakibah a wistful look. She waved her fingers at him as Adlai dragged him away, out of sight.

"Adlai, let me go!"
"If you thought being Grand Master consisted of cavorting with courtesans and passing off easy missions, you were wrong."

Felix smacked Adlai's hand away, stumbling as his mentor shoved him forward, almost sending him to his knees. He opened his mouth to protest, but the look of sheer fury from Adlai silenced him; he followed on behind and both assassins headed for the rooftop above the city gates, escaping from Jerusalem in silence.

* * *

The sharp talk from Malik following the mission was enough to force anyone to tears, and Felix was no exception. He had been banished away from the bureau throne in disgrace, and when night fell, he sloped away and flopped upon his bed of plush cushions at the top of the east turret, exhausted.

"Felix?"

The whisper was feminine and barely audible, but still he jumped in response to it. As soon as Nahla slunk into the dark chamber, her eyes a liquid black against the starry night sky that beckoned through the wide gaps in the opposite end of the room.

"What are you doing here?" he whispered, propping himself up on his elbows. She crawled across the floor in her thin white nightgown, a loose shapeless dress of filmy fabric that covered her shoulders and hung to her ankles.

"I couldn't sleep. Did my father beat you? It sounded as if he did."
"He did not," Felix muttered. "But he was angry. Angrier than I have seen him before. Adlai was cruel, too."

"Adlai takes missions seriously," she whispered. "Well, as seriously as Adlai can take anything."
"He wanted to go with Mustafa. Not me."
Nahla scrunched her brow and a long lock of shiny black hair tumbled down her forehead, reaching past her chest. "Why Mustafa?"
Felix gave a hopeless shrug. "He is competent."

"I don't care for Mustafa," she sighed, scooting on to the soft rug he lay on, crossing her legs. "Or Salim. If you don't protest to my saying so."
"I don't care much for Salim either," he stated. "Ever since he began training others he has become rude. And grumpy."
"And cocky."

Felix sniggered and flicker her gently on the arm. She mimed a slap to the side of his head, grinning through the dark.

"I saw a girl today," Felix whispered. "She was beautiful."
Nahla drew back her hand and the smile drained away from her face. "A girl?"
"Adlai said she was a courtesan, but she can't possibly be. I decided that she was a princess. Her name is Shakibah, and I shall seek her out next time I take a trip to Jerusalem."

Nahla's gaze hardened. "What did she look like?"
"A goddess," he murmured, in a dreamy way that irked Nahla. "I have never seen anyone like her. She wore red. Such flamboyant, daring scarlet, and I saw her in the crowd as soon as she appeared. She spoke to me, Nahla, and it was like she was singing."

Felix crossed his legs, gripping his own ankles as excitement stirred in his stomach. He could feel the grin on his face and made no attempt to hide it; Shakibah was all he could think about. All he would dream about.

Nahla's upper lip stiffened and she rose slowly to her feet, but Felix's grin didn't waver. She turned on her heel, determined not to show her burning jealousy; not mean feat as Felix lay back on his bed, clearly dreaming of this courtesan girl from Jerusalem.

"Goodbye, Felix."
"Oh. Bye, Nahla."

She quickly dipped her foot on to the ladder and slid down it, resisting the urge to tense her knuckles until they were white. Dropping down on the grainy floor below, she hurried off out of the chamber, across the battlement and down to her own room, collapsing on the floor among the cushions.

Cushions that now, in the stiff, lonely darkness, seemed as hard as rocks.