Chapter One: Witness

The usual heat and blazing sun that characterized the Middle Eastern summer had not failed to meet the yearly expectations – it was almost unendurable. The atmosphere throughout the always busy city of Damascus was horribly dry and thick. The loose of fragments of soil that paved the floor fluttered around wildly every time a slight breeze would make itself present, making breathing quite a tedious task. Despite the painful temperatures, activity never stopped in the beautiful city. Outside, the merchants stood, sheltered by the tents of their stalls, yelling at the passersby, encouraging them to buy their products. The beggars had not stopped their shameful pleading, for they could be heard as they clung to those who they assumed would spare some coins for them. The guards, too, though their jobs were limited to capturing a petty thief or two, made their rounds around the city, carrying their heavy clothes and armor around with them.

"It's the typical day in Damascus, isn't it child?" The chief scholar of the city asked the girl that stood lurking out the window into the cluster of people outside. She turned around quickly and bowed respectfully at the figure that had just entered the room.

"Good morning, sir, it's a wonderful day today. I'm eager to start my lessons." She replied, her voice incredibly polite. The old man sighed and took a seat in one of the chairs that were bestowed in the room. He motioned her to seat, and merrily ran towards the chair.

"No, no, not like that," he scolded. "You are to walk over here like a lady, Amira." She stopped in her tracks and let out a heavy sigh before starting a very feminine walk towards him. "That's better." He replied. She took a seat, her legs crossed over the chair.

"What am I to do with you, child?" He asked more to himself than to her, with a slight frown on his face. "You don't obey me. You don't obey your father. You are always so stern and defiant. You are to grow to be a lady, Amira. You may have convinced your father to allow you to be educated, but I do not think you will convince him to treat you as a man."

"I do not want to be treated as man, sir," she said with a smile on her face, "but I don't want to be treated as an object either. I am sure that a studied man such as you might agree. We, women, could do so much more than just sit around at home. Shouldn't we be granted with the opportunity?"

The old man chuckled and crossed his arms across his chest, his light brown eyes staring deeply into her almost black eyes. "If every girl I met was as bright as you are, then it would be worth the shot. But, even if we wanted to, their parents would not allow. And, even if they allowed, there is a chance the girls might refuse. Though I am sure there might be a time when you will be able to join academies as freely as boys, those times are not here yet. I just expect you to keep your part of the deal, right, Amira?"

"I know, I know," she said and rolled her eyes, "I am to tell no one that I have received any education. I know I am to feign ignorance, sir, you need not remind me."

The man chuckled again, and a smile grew on her face.

"Sometimes it is hard to believe you are only twelve years old, kid."

"Sir!" a young man in a guard's uniform burst in the room, almost breaking the expensive goblet that stood in a pillar by the door. "There are assassins in town, we need to get you to a safe place right away!" The look of shock that spread to the man's face when he heard the word, assassin, was one of the things that Amira never learned how to forget. Soon after the guard walked in, they saw as his body hit the floor, landing with a loud thump and a knife on his back.

"Amira, get out of here!" The old man yell, but the girl did not run. She got up from her chair and stood beside him, glancing all over the room, trying to locate the killer.

"I'm not going to leave sir," she stated, looking at him straight into his eyes with a defiant glare, the same one that characterized her. "Child, please," the man pleaded but the girl simply shook her head, stubbornly. She walk towards the body, slowly, looking back at her professor very often. She kneeled next to the body and, mustering all her strength, pulled out the dagger that had settled on his spine. The blood was dripping and it soon stained her hands and clothes. 'With this I may be able to put a fight,' she thought, though she quickly admitted that putting up a fight would be futile. When she looked up from the dead body she saw a white figured standing behind the old man.

"Sir, behind you!" she yelled. Holding the knife steadily she dashed towards the figure. Though she knew it was too late, he had, long before she realized, driven his blade into his throat. The scholar's body fell, his white robes covered with the crimson shade of blood. She stopped at the sight of the man kneeling next to it, using a feather to take a sample of his blood. Acting on instinct, she threw the knife at him, missing clearly, but gaining his attention.

"Murderer," she said her eyes teary and her pale face red with anger, "your creed says you are to stay your blade from innocent blood. Why did you kill him?"

"How do you know about our creed boy?" The assassin said, walking towards her shaking figure.

"I am not a boy, damn it!" She said, taking off the turban that concealed her long and curly, dark brown hair. Her face was shown too, and it was much too soft to be taken for a boy.

"A girl?" the assassin, said out loud, staring at her, surprised. "Jamil taught girls?"

"He was a nice man!" She yelled, tears now starting to pour, "He was a nice man and you killed him, right in front of me! Why, assassin? Why did you do it?"

"He was corrupting young minds like yours, child," he replied, his voice soft. 'Al Mualim told me he was brainwashing them to mistreat women, so why did he had one as a pupil?' he questioned himself.

"Go." She whispered, tears still falling from her eyes. "If the guards find you, you will be executed, so leave."

More shock ran through the assassin's body. "Why-," was all he managed to put in words before the girl yelled: "I don't want to witness three murders in one day, you idiot! Now, get out of here!" She fell to her knees and started weeping quietly, next to her teacher's body. The sound of footsteps was heard approaching at quite the fast speed. The assassin, took it as a sign to depart and started running towards the main window, the one where she had been standing moments earlier, admiring the city. "I'm sorry, child." He whispered before disappearing. The guards went inside again, as aggressively as the previous one.

"Which way did he go?" They yelled at a weeping Amira. She looked up and with her trembling hand pointed towards the window, the wrong window. The guards ran towards it and, though not as graciously as the one man before them, jumped out into a nearby rooftop. The girl looked again at the body and resumed her silent weeping.

"I am sorry," she whispered, "It is probably my fault that you died, sir. I am so sorry."

Her sobs became louder, gradually, until they filled the empty palace with her despair. She was hurting so bad, blaming herself for his death. Yet, she had let the killer go. Why? She wondered, though she was never able to answer such a question. Footsteps she heard again, and remembered her side of the agreement: no one was to know she was his student.

"Oh, no," she said, getting up to her feet quickly. She grabbed the beautifully carved knife she had thrown at the assassin and ran out the room through the same door she used to reach it. She moved one of the shelves slightly to the side and opened the door that lay hidden behind it. She opened it and quickly ran in. On the other side of the wall she heard the whispers and murmuring of the guards outside. As quietly as possible, she began to get away and once she was far enough she started to run. Unlike most girls, she enjoyed running, 'it helps me blow off steam' she told her mother every time she was reprimanded for it. That very moment, she really needed to run. And so she did, she ran and ran, until she passed out, dehydrated, right outside her house's door.