(no subject)

[madeinacre]

Dahi had said that he was better than Sef at climbing trees and that he could climb higher and faster than him anyway, so there. Sef had said he was lying, and anyway he was only seven and one half and not seven and three quarters like Sef so of course Dahi couldn't be better than him, that was stupid.

And then Hasan had said they should climb that big tree by the road and see who could climb the highest.

The three of them had gone along quite happily, Sef full of bravado and certain that he could make it to the top without fail and what was more, he was going to make it to the top faster than Dahi could. Hasan had picked up two sticks and whoever picked the longest went first- Sef's was only a stubby one so he had to sit pouting as Dahi got to go first. He made it up as far as the first big branch before he laughed and said that Sef couldn't go higher, and of course Sef knew that he could.

And he did.

But now he was stuck.

"Sef it's not funny anymore," Hasan wailed. "My mother will scold me if I'm late!"

"Go home then!" Sef called back, trying to sound like he wasn't scared as he clung to the branch like a cat.

"Come down, stupid!" Dahi shouted. "We're hungry, you've been up there for hours!"

It had of course only been twenty minutes, but when it came down to the serious matter of trees and being stuck in them, trivial matters like time tended to pale into insignificance.

"I bet I could stay up here all day if I wanted," Sef boasted, trying to make it sound like he really did want to and he wasn't scared half to death up the tree. "Watch me, I bet I can!"

Only Darim would probably pinch him and tell him he'd been reckless and silly and an Assassin shouldn't let something like pride get in the way of asking for help, and Mama would tell him he'd acted like an ass and would probably tell Master Rauf that he was still a baby after all and he couldn't possibly start training yet.

He didn't want to think what Uncle Malik would have to say. Probably that he was a reckless novice and his father would be ashamed.

Sef could feel his eyes getting hot and he sniffed; it wasn't worth wiping his eyes because then he'd have to take his hand away and he knew that if he did that he would fall and probably die and then it wouldn't matter what anybody thought and he'd never be an Assassin.

Comments

[madeinacre]

"Yes," Sef said a little too quickly, and then decided to elaborate. "I washed behind my ears and went to bed when Mama said I should and I even didn't use that word you told me not to use before you went away Baba, even though Dahi really was one when he said you weren't going to come back."

Although he had got in trouble with Mama for that and sent to bed with no sweet after dinner, because he had punched Dahi in the nose and then that grumpy man Abbas who always frowned at him and Darim had had to pull him off him by the collar of his shirt and it had torn, and Mama had been really annoyed because after Abbas had gone she had called Abbas the same thing that Baba had told him not to call Dahi.

"Baba you can tell me about Constandynosepull now and I'll pretend that I didn't hear when you tell Darim and Mama, I promise."

[pushesgently]

Altaïr frowned as Sef explained, not particularly bothered by boys scrapping but very much against his sons' hearing that he might not return. Yet he couldn't deny such a thing was always possible; he trusted in his skills and his men, but none of them were immortal.

"It would take a great deal of time to tell you, Sef, and we are nearly home. Have patience."

Indeed, he could now see the spires of Masyaf rising above the hills as they came around them. They were nearly home now, and might as well consider themselves already there for being on Assassin land.

[madeinacre]

"Oh but-"

But Sef knew how to recognise his father's tone and pouted just a little as he knew it was an argument he couldn't win. Instead, he busied himself with playing with the horse's mane and tried not to sound too disappointed. Suddenly though, he was reminded of something and he turned back to look at his father, his small face full of concern.

"Baba, you're not going to tell Mama I was up a tree are you? Because she would be upset and you always say we shouldn't upset Mama."

Especially when Mama had made her views on him climbing trees without an adult knowing extremely clear, and her displeasure even more so.

"So we shouldn't tell her. That would be good."

[pushesgently]

That sort of nervous hedging was a good deal more familiar to Altaïr, and he had to fight to keep a straight face and avoid chuckling.

"Sef Ibn'La-Ahad, are you suggesting I
lie to your mother, when she's worked so hard to take care of you in my absence?"

[madeinacre]

"No! Because, um-" here he frowned, and then parroted in his most obedient voice as he traced the patterns in the leatherwork on his father's belt. "Because lying is wrong and dishonest and boys who lie go to bed with no dinner. But Baba, if she doesn't ask about climbing trees and you don't tell her then it's not lying, I promise!"

He did his very best to look earnest and as honourable and grown up as he knew he should be aged seven and three quarters and about to start training to be an Assassin.

"Besides even if you did lie then Mama would know. It's her special power."

[pushesgently]

"That's true. It's hard to fool her."

Maria was very perceptive, though he knew that quality to be a natural trait honed by experience, nothing more. His own extra sense was more akin to a special power, but the boys didn't know about that yet. He was waiting to see whether either of them had inherited it, and didn't want to put ideas into their head.

"How about this," he suggested. "We go home now, and if you don't mention it, I will not mention it. If she asks...we shall see."

[madeinacre]

"How about," Sef continued, "if Mama starts to talk about trees to you then I can change the subject to Constandynosepull, is that allowed Baba?"

He did his very best to look sincere and well behaved before he wrapped his arms around his father's middle and hugged him tightly.

"I missed you, Baba."

[pushesgently]

Novice attempts at dissembling aside, Altaïr could not resist wrapping one arm around Sef's shoulders. He was tired, disappointed and dirty from traveling, but he was home now—and he could see the gates of Masyaf up ahead. It was good to be back.

"I missed you as well, Sef."

[madeinacre]

With the hug out of the way, Sef had other more important business to attend to.

"Baba, did you know, um, I grew this much since you went away?" He stretched out his arms to demonstrate. "And I can swim now! Mama taught me, she said that all little boys should know how to swim. Oh and my uncle Malik says I'm incorrigible? Are you incorrigible too Baba? What is incorrigible, is it a good thing, Baba?"

[pushesgently]

"I can see that." He chuckled, first at Sef's demonstration and then at his new vocabulary. "Whether or not it is a good or bad thing depends on one's perspective, Sef, but I suspect we are all incorrigible at one time or another."

Before the boy could pepper him with further questions, they rode through the main gate of Masyaf, where the sentries were suddenly standing that much straighter now that the Mentor had returned.

Once inside, Altaïr dismounted first before lifting his son off the horse. Then it was several of his most senior men who came to him with questions, which he tried to answer as best he could without going into details. Yes they had returned safely, no things had not gone precisely as planned, but the story could wait—he wanted to speak with Malik first, and more importantly, he wanted to see his family.

This led to Altaïr, Sef and one or two hangers-on walking up the slope and toward the practice yard, which was ringed by a whole class of novices but currently contained only Rauf and one familiar, much shorter figure.

[sonofsonofnone]

Of course they weren't practicing with real swords yet; they might have started on the basics of their training already but there was no way Master Rauf was willing to let his pre-novices loose on each other with live steel just yet.

"You will give a finger to the Brotherhood in due time, I do not wish to see you lose them unnecessarily before your time and neither does Al-Mualim," he had told them all.

Darim had tried not to look too disappointed and had tried his level best not to let on to all the other boys that he agreed with them when they came to him begging him to ask his father to reconsider. He knew precisely what Baba would say anyway: absolutely nothing because Mama would cut him off with a stern glance before he could even raise the subject with him.

"Al-Mualim may be my father," he had told his cohorts in a tone of voice that sounded remarkably like his mother's, "but he is our Master and if we want to be master Assassins someday we have to learn to respect his wishes."

Aswad had tried especially hard to knock Darim down after that and his knees had shown the bruises for at least a week afterwards.

Today though, Darim was concentrating fully on Master Rauf and the task at hand. It was simple enough, a step into a counter parry which he had been practicing long and hard to get right. Master Rauf had been impressed enough to ask Darim to show his classmates how it was done.

[pushesgently]

Altaïr had every intention of passing on his knowledge and skills—as much as such things could be passed on—to his sons, but he equally had no intention of setting them apart by being the only one who instructed them. Even if he had the time to do so, Darim and Sef would benefit more from fully joining the brotherhood and participating in its methods of training.

Rauf was the teacher, and Altaïr had trusted him to do well by Darim and the other boys in his absence. As he approached the training ring it became clear that the man had lived up to his trust; the techniques that Darim was demonstrating were simple but executed with skill for a newcomer to the blade.

Their arrival in Masyaf had caused some stir, but most of the boys surrounding the ring had been so focused on the lesson that they hadn't noticed. That is, until the Grandmaster arrived beside it to watch, making no move to interrupt.

[sonofsonofnone]

Darim, for his part, was much too focused on the task at hand. He had been working hard all afternoon, his stomach had that same hollow feeling that usually hailed his desire for supper, but right now he had to ignore his stomach to get this done right. Aswad was watching, and he had been useless at parrying ever since Master Rauf had shown him the steps. He was two years older than him, but Darim was determined not to let that hinder him.

Breathe. Focus. Move.

Master Rauf moved towards him and Darim stepped forward, raising his practice sword and moving to deflect the blow.

Block and step and move again.

"You see? That is how it is done," Master Rauf was saying as Darim sat and took a breath as he moved his practice sword back to his side.

He was so fixed on keeping himself calm and composed that he missed the smile on Master Rauf's face as he looked at the assembled audience and grinned at one of the adults.

"Do you have anything to add, Master?"

[pushesgently]

There was something bittersweet in seeing his eldest son like this—taller, stronger, more skilled. Life had gone on while Altaïr was away, as he knew it must, and wouldn't have wished otherwise. But there was still a yearning to have done the impossible and been in two places at one—the master and the father, both doing their jobs.

The part of him that felt this was outweighed by the part of him that felt a considerable amount of pride in Darim's development, though, and he smiled back at Rauf.

"No, Dai, I can see that their training is going well," he said, raising his voice slightly to be heard across the circle. "You have some promising pupils."

[sonofsonofnone]

Darim started immediately at the sound of his father's voice, his head whipping around so fast that it was a wonder he didn't manage to get whiplash. Sef was being embarrassing- like always- and was hopping up and down by their father's side, waving and pointing at him and trying to get Darim's attention. He stood very tall and straight, squaring his shoulders and bowing his head very deeply and respectfully in Al-Mualim's direction, determined not to act like a child now that he was in preliminary training.

Master Rauf clapped his hand on Darim's shoulder and addressed his pupils.

"That will be all for today. Do not let your heads grow too big with the compliments and work hard to perfect the art of not tripping over your feet when you step. You are dismissed."

It was earlier than usual, but judging from the way that Master Rauf's eyes seemed to smile more than usual, Darim had a reason to suspect it might be down to the return of his father. He politely thanked his teacher and returned his sword to the rack, all the while trying not to let his hands shake with excitement or run to his father like a small child. He had been told to be the man of the family while his father was away and he wasn't about to revert to being a boy now that he was back.

"Darim, Darim! It's Baba! He's really home!" Sef squeaked as his brother joined them.

Darim stopped just short of them and bowed deeply and respectfully, just like a good and grown up Assassin should.

"Welcome home, Al-Mualim sir."

[pushesgently]

Self-control and mental preparation allowed Altaïr to merely maintain a pleasant smile as he waited for Darim to come to him. He wouldn't have minded if the boy had run and jumped and squealed just as much as his little brother—such behavior wouldn't mean he hadn't been there for Maria and Sef over the past months.

But Darim was growing up all too quickly, and Altaïr had an idea of how important it was for him to remain dignified. Let him show it.

He held his shoulders straight and his head high as Darim bowed, just as he would to any of his men speaking a formal audience. It was difficult, in this moment, to remember the red, squalling baby his son had once been, and easier to picture the man he would be sooner than his parents would like.

"Thank you, Darim," he said, and held out his arms. Sooner than his parents would like, but not yet. "And what about a welcome for your father?"

[sonofsonofnone]

Darim had told himself on the way towards his father and brother that he wasn't going to do anything that might embarrass them, or show any signs of childishness now that he was in training and on the path towards becoming an Assassin. He was nine years old now, almost ten, and it would be shameful to behave like a little boy.

But then his father opened his arms to him, and suddenly it was all Darim could do not to cry but instead through his arms around his father's waist and hug him fiercely, pressing his face against the rough, dusty robes he wore and screwing his eyes tightly shut. There had been whispers that something had gone wrong in Constantinople, surely the Master should be back by now, why was it taking so long? Darim had played them off, had told Sef that it was nonsense when his little brother would lie awake in their room whispering questions. They never talked about them around Mama. Darim knew she missed Baba more than she would tell him and Sef because she would grow quiet sometimes for no reason, and then when he would go to wish her goodnight sometimes he would find her wearing father's undershirts. She would always tell him not to worry and hug him especially tight before sending him off to bed with a kiss on the forehead.

Some nights he and Sef would climb into bed with her because Sef was worried she was lonely.

But now that was all forgotten, and Baba was home. They didn't have to worry about never seeing him again now.

"We missed you, Baba."

[pushesgently]

Altaïr didn't dare laugh as his son barreled into him, but a wide grin would do nothing to shatter Darim's hard-won dignity. He hugged his son back tightly, privately marveling at how much higher the top of the boy's head was on his chest.

On the way to Constantinople and once they were there, it had been easy to keep himself from yearning for his family. He missed them, of course—deeply, and when he couldn't fall asleep easily at night, they were always in his thoughts. But the work they had traveled so far to do occupied much of his time, and he'd had to focus in order to establish the Assassins' presence in the city—and when that hadn't happened, to bring them home safely.

But on the way back, there had been little to distract him. He'd wondered what they were doing, how the boys were growing, what he'd missed. Now, at last, there was no more wondering.

"And I missed you, Darim," he said, stroking his hair lightly. And then he did laugh when Sef tried his hardest to encircle both his father and his big brother in his arms. "And you, Sef," he said, and hugged them both.

[sonofsonofnone]

"You were gone so long, we-" Darim stopped himself short as Sef interrupted, but instead of berating his little brother for being an insufferable attention hog, he let the smaller boy wriggle into the embrace.

After all, Darim wasn't the only son of Altaïr who had missed his father.

[madeinacre]

"Someone said you'd got lost at sea!" Sef added, sounding indignant. "But you didn't, did you Baba? You never get lost."

[sonofsonofnone]

"How could he be lost if he's home?" Darim replied for his father, sounded exasperated with his brother's ignorance. "Constantinople's far away over the sea, Sef. It's not like going to Acre."

[madeinacre]

"Did you fight any Templars in Constandynosepull, Baba?"

[sonofsonofnone]

"How many times do I have to tell you it's not called 'Constandynosepull,' it's 'Constantinople!'"

[madeinacre]

"Be quiet Darim I'm talking to Baba!"

[womanfromacre]

"Darim! Sef! What have I told you two about bickering out loud where everyone can-"

Whatever reprimand the boys might have been about to face was swiftly cut short as their mother rounded the corner and immediately caught sight of the cause of their high spirits. She stood looking astonished at the sight before breaking into a run towards her husband.

"Oh habeebi!"