Hey everybody, sorry to keep you waiting so long, I've been pretty busy over the summer (:

It's pretty long so I hope that compensates.. I think there'll probably be another 1 or 2 chapters after this - I'm not entirely sure yet..

Let me know what you think ! Enjoy (:

Chapter 4: Leaving

Najat was half-awake, aware of someone walking around her room quietly, moving from one side to the other, moving things on her dressing table and looking in her wardrobe. She sat up; unable to see for the darkness, but brandishing her dagger she kept underneath her pile of cushions.

"Who goes there?" she demanded, her nerves prevalent as her speech wavered. "Whoever you are, I shall have you know-" She was cut off by a gloved hand that seemed to come out of nowhere and cover her mouth.

"Najat," the voice belonged to a man, and his tone was smooth and gentle and it reminded her of-

"Altair!" she cried, her exclamation coming out muffled and quieter than it would have done had his hand not been there. She turned, moving against his wrist and standing next to her was the assassin that had been in that very room sorting out his side wound not so long ago. She could only just make out the outline of his hood and shoulders, and although she now knew who her midnight intruder was, he didn't move his hand away from her mouth.

"Where is my sword?" he asked, his tone suddenly very firm and obstinate as he removed his hand from over her mouth.

"It is nice to see you too," she retorted, irritated by his blatant lack of manners. He hadn't even thanked her for helping him yesterday; she risked her life and her reputation for him and he hadn't even shown an ounce of gratefulness. He really was impossible. "Thank you Najat, for coming to my aid before, it was greatly appreciated."

He merely grunted in response and repeated his question: "where is my sword?"

"Patience my friend," she teased, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed as she sat up, feeling a chill on her bare skin where the warmth of the sheets was before. "How is your side?"

"I don't have time to play games," he snapped, grabbing her by her upper arms and holding her rigidly, "where is my sword?"

She didn't want to give him the sword. She wanted him to tell her he'd come back for her, not an inanimate object that could easily be replaced. She knew that was what he was feeling, even though he wasn't showing it. "I don't know," she said, "I cannot seem to remember where I put it."

"Do not lie to me!" he growled, suddenly sounding like a complete stranger, "I won't ask again; where is my sword?"

For some reason Najat couldn't seem to control herself and she replied with: "I don't know," when it was a deliberate lie.

Before it could even register in her head, Altair had the blade that was embedded in his leather wrist guard at her throat, and his whole body pinning her down on her bed so she couldn't fight back. He moved his face so close to hers she could count each individual head of stubble on his chin and upper lip.

"I am not afraid of you," she said defiantly, her voice sounding much more fearless than she felt.

"You should be," she watched his lips dance to his words, feeling the cold metal of the blade pressing lightly against the skin on her neck.

"You won't kill me," she said simply, hoping not to cross the line with him. He was an assassin, and he would have been trained to kill mercilessly without even a thought for the victim.

"How can you be so sure?" he questioned with a hint of condescension, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"Because I can," she replied, leaning forwards against the blade at her neck, and pressing her lips to his.

*****

Najat awoke with a start, shielding her eyes from the bright sunlight that was pouring in through her window and blinding her momentarily. She slowly accustomed her eyes to the light after being asleep for so long, and got out of bed, going down onto her knees and moving the pile of cushions she'd put there to conceal the sword. It was still there, so she hadn't had an uninvited visitor in the middle of the night like in her dream.

What a strange dream, she thought to herself, pulling on her scarlet silk robe and running her fingers through her long ebony hair. She wondered if the dream had been some sort of premonition; that Altair would come back to her looking for his sword and then… Well, what happened afterwards she wasn't quite sure would really happen. She'd be lying to herself if she didn't think he was attractive in a very rugged, masculine way, but that was all she saw in him – physicality. She didn't know anything about him apart from that he was an assassin and his name was Altair Ibn La-Ahad, but he could easily be lying about that.

She dismissed her thoughts regarding the mysterious assassin and pushed them to the back of her mind while she tried to think of some way to rid herself of the punishment her father had placed upon her. She glanced over at the open balcony; the violet drapes rustling as a gentle breeze disturbed them. She could quite easily just climb down from the balcony if she was very quiet and very careful, but she knew if she was found out he would punish her again; the second time probably much worse.

She sighed and walked over to the balcony, leaning on the parapet and breathing in the fresh air as she looked out onto the rest of the rich district. The guards were on the rooftops, patrolling as usual, keeping a watch out for trouble – or so everyone thought, except Najat. She didn't even need to research into it to know that most of the city's guards were corrupt and often posed more of a threat to the civilians rather than ordinary criminals; the episode two days ago was proof of that.

There was a knock at her door, so Najat took herself away from the balcony and walked across the room to open it. Mufeeda was standing there, holding a tray with her breakfast on it, her expression solemn.

"Is my father really that disappointed in me?" she asked. She had never been brought breakfast in the mornings; her father always liked her to sit with him in the mornings before he went off to the markets. He had been angry with her for various reasons before, but she had never done anything so bad that he did not want her to eat breakfast with him.

"I'm afraid so, my lady," Mufeeda replied, looking down at the tray rather than at Najat as she spoke.

"I suppose you are disappointed in me too, are you?"

"My opinions don't really matter," she responded, "but I agree with your father; assassins are dangerous and you shouldn't associate yourself with them."

"He saved my life," she said, annoyed that her father had taken it as an inconsequential detail, and hoped Mufeeda wouldn't either.

"But he is an assassin," the maid said softly, "for all you know you could be his next target, and he uses saving you as a means to get closer to you. Don't you understand, Najat? He is a cold-blooded killer; there is no good in him at all."

"Thank you for the breakfast, Mufeeda," Najat snatched the tray from her and slammed the door in her face, incensed by both of them being so judgemental. She was old enough to decide for herself who she associated with and when she went out and whether she was unaccompanied or not.

She put the tray down on her desk that was organised tidily with books and pieces of parchment all piled up neatly, all of a sudden not feeling very hungry anymore. She was sure she would not be so prejudiced if an assassin had saved her father's life. He was unbelievable.

Just thinking about him was making her angrier, so she decided to wash herself and get changed and go. She had enough money in her savings to pay for whatever necessities she might need, and she was certain Ikram would be prepared to give her a bed for a few nights before she properly sorted out what she was going to do with herself.

She went out onto the landing and into the washroom where she rinsed her hair and washed her face, and then went back into her room and got dressed. She unearthed the sword from underneath its cover of cushions and found herself a belt to tie it onto her back. She found the sheath for the dagger she kept under her pillows and tied it around her waist underneath her flowing orange ankle length skirt. She was glad it didn't show through the thin fabric; guards were always highly suspicious of civilians carrying weapons and after her last visit to the poor district, she didn't want what happened happening again. After rummaging around in the bottom of her wardrobe for her animal hide satchel, she put her pouch of gold coins in it, a quill and an inkwell, some parchment and her shawl. Slipping it over her shoulder, she headed for the balcony, balancing on the top edge of the parapet and lowering herself down as far as she could, and then dropping down onto the ground, grateful that their house wasn't so tall.

She ran off into the city without even a glance behind her, concluding that what she was doing was for the best – for her, and for her father.

*****

After wandering around the city for what seemed like hours, Najat found she was getting rather hungry, and wished she'd eaten the breakfast she'd been brought when she'd had the chance. She strolled through the markets, passing stall after stall selling pottery and rugs, but no food.

She was about to turn back and try the next market street, when she was elbowed out of the way by a burly man who was much taller than her and had a very large beer belly. She went careering into a group of women carrying large ceramic pots on their heads, causing them all to drop them and smash them on the ground.

"Get her!" shouted a guard who came to inspect the commotion, seeing Najat getting up from the ground, brushing ceramic and dust from her clothes.

"Not again," she muttered, rolling her eyes. The guard who shouted at her drew his sword, and charged at her, but she quickly moved out of the way just before he was about to strike and he ran straight into the wall of the building behind her. She took his ineptitude as a chance to run, so she did, straight into the oncoming crowd of market-goers. She didn't dare look back, and carried on until she came across an alleyway, which she immediately ran down and followed its curve – until it came to a dead end.

"She's gone down here!" she heard a voice echo down the passage, and she panicked, looking for some way to get up onto the roofs. There weren't any ledges or ladders for her to get up, and she readied herself for the imminent fight that would happen any second. She slid her hand down the back of her tunic and pulled out Altair's sword, holding it out from her body as two guards came rushing down the alley. She was grateful that there were only two this time, whereas last time there had been at least five on one; she hadn't stood a smidgen of a chance.

"Die!"

The one lunged, the song of clashing metal echoing in the narrow alley as she deflected his blow, staggering backwards slightly as his strength behind his blade overpowered her. She kicked out, her foot impacting with his kneecap and making him lose his balance and fall over, and followed it with a slice to the throat just as his companion charged at her. She dove into a forwards roll, missing his blow by centimetres and then spinning round to block his second attack. They were caught in a weapon deadlock as he pushed down on her, and she struggled to maintain the balance of the deadlock as she pushed back with all of her strength. She swung her foot up in between his legs, and he let out a high-pitched squeal as she crushed his jewels, and he dropped his sword as he clutched his groin. With one swift motion of her wrist she cut his throat and with a helpless gasp that came out as a gurgle, it caused blood to spray everywhere. Najat just managed to avoid it as she took a leap backwards, slotting the sword back into its makeshift sheath on her back.

"Fools," she snorted as she walked back down the alleyway, interspersing herself with the crowd again, holding her head high as if she was just a woman of wealth and she was incapable of doing any harm.

When she crossed over the boundary that separated the middle and the poor district she got funny looks from the guards, all wondering why a woman dressed so wealthily would have business with the impoverished. She didn't really have any choice regarding what she wore, short of going back and searching for her bloody peasants' clothing she threw down the alleyway the other day.

As she walked through the poor district she brought unwanted attention to herself; mainly because of the clothes she was wearing; she kept being pestered by beggars and people trying to sell her things. She declined the merchants' offers, but was slightly more lenient with the beggars and dipped her hand into her large pouch of money and threw one coin to each just so they would leave her alone.

She arrived outside Ikram's house, which was one of the first houses in the poor district, right next to the gate that lead to Kingdom, and then from there, there were roads to Jerusalem and Acre. She didn't hesitate to knock on the door, and after a minute or so of waiting outside the door opened and Ikram's father, Hisham threw his arms open and greeted her with a hug.

"How is my favourite friend of Ikram's?" he asked her, stepping aside so she could go inside the house, "what brings you here, Najat?"

"I am very well, thank you, Hisham," she answered his first question, and then the second, "my father and I have had a minor feud," she said, following him into their kitchen area and sitting down on one of the rickety chairs at the also rickety table, "it is quite trivial, really. Sometimes he can be so overbearing…"

"Well Najat, you are like a second daughter to me," he said, pouring himself a goblet of water and offering one to her, but she said no, "if you ever need somewhere to stay, then you are always welcome here, and I am sure Ikram would love to have you here for more than one night."

Najat smiled, realising she'd forgotten to bring the flower she'd bought especially for Ikram with her. "Allow me to go out and buy us some food for this evening," she said, "I shall cook for us all as a thank you for your kindness."

Hisham looked hesitant to agree, but Najat gave him a playful pout and he rolled his eyes and nodded. "Very well then," he said, "it shall give me time to prepare somewhere for you to sleep."

"I am quite happy to sleep on the floor," she said, not wishing to make work for him when it was unnecessary, "it is good for my back."

Hisham raised a thick black eyebrow at her, "if you say so, Najat."

At that point Ikram came bounding down the stairs and skidded into the kitchen, obviously after hearing Najat's voice.

"Hello, Najat," she said, giving her friend a hug and sitting down on the chair next to her, "I didn't know you were coming for a visit today."

"Surprise," she giggled, "I am staying with you for a few days."

"It will give us time to catch up," said Ikram, getting up from the table, "excuse me, though," she headed towards the door, "I must get back to my needlework; these clothes aren't going to sew themselves."

"I shall go and peruse the markets for some food for tonight," said Najat, also getting up from the table, "I will be back shortly."

*****

With a basket full of fruit, meat and vegetables, Najat made her way back to Ikram's house just as the night was beginning to draw in. The orange glow of the setting sun made even the most rundown of buildings look pretty, and Najat loved to walk around the city at such a time. She crossed the street lined with now empty stalls towards Ikram's house; her temporary home; and stopped as something caught her eye. She stepped back behind the cover of a building, but poked her head around its dusty whitewashed corner so she could see. A group of scholars, all in white were walking towards the entrance to the city that was blocked by four guards standing across the gateway. She strained her eyes to see, but the one in the middle of the group certainly was not an ordinary scholar. She could just about see the empty leather sheath on his back and the flicker of his red sash amid the white.

"Altair," she murmured to herself, watching as the guards parted to allow the scholars to pass through – the assassin in the centre of them going by completely undetected. As soon as the scholars were a few metres away from the guards on the other side, she saw Altair break away from them and pull himself up onto a horse and start moving away from the city gates towards Kingdom.

He left without his sword?

She ran across to Ikram's house, and knocked on the door hurriedly. Ikram opened it, a shawl in her hand and a smile on her face as she glanced down at the basket. "You didn't need to knock; you could have just let yourself in."

"I have to go Ikram," said Najat, "and not back home," she held out the basket for Ikram to take, "tell your father I said thank you for being prepared to give me a bed for a few nights, but I shall no longer need it."

"Well where are you going?"

"To Kingdom to meet with someone," she lied, "I do not know how long I will be gone, but I will come and see you when I am back. I ask one thing of you, however."

"Go on."

"Please do not tell my father where I am going," she said, "if he finds you, tell him I am well, but I beg of you – I do not, under any circumstances, want him knowing my whereabouts."

"But-"

"Promise me, as my closest friend."

"I… I promise," said Ikram reluctantly, nibbling on her lower lip, "but Najat, before you go…"

"Yes, my friend?"

"Be careful."

"I promise you I shall," said Najat, giving the girl a tight hug. "Remember to tell your father thank you."

Ikram didn't reply but waved her goodbye, closing the door as Najat walked towards the guards blocking the entrance of the city.

Najat walked past them without any trouble, and walked over to the stables on the left, where there were three horses eating from the piles of hay by the city walls. There was no one around looking after the horses, and to her fortune they were all saddled up and ready to ride. She placed her foot on the stirrup of a palomino and swung her leg over its back and held tightly onto the reins as she gave it a little prod with her feet to get it moving. As soon as she'd past the fenced area of the stables, she flicked the reins so the horse broke into a gallop, glad that at that time of the evening there was no one wandering about the stalls outside. The guards however, seemed to get hostile towards her when she approached them at a gallop, and drew their swords, trying to attack her as she rode, but to no avail. She rode up the curving path to higher ground, hearing angry cries from the guards as she went, but she didn't care. She needed to catch up to him. She wanted to catch up to him.

And then she saw him in the distance as she reached the top of the sloping path, his horse at a gentle trot and his head down. She flicked the reins again and prodded the horse's sides with her heels and it started to gallop again, slightly faster, and it started to close the gap between her and Altair.

She galloped past him and pulled on the reins so her horse would stop, and turned it round as he came closer so he could see her face.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, sounding genuinely surprised as he halted his black horse to avoid a collision.

"You forgot your sword," she said, reaching into the back of her tunic and pulling it out of the amateur sheath she'd put together. She held it out for him, and he took it, sliding it into his own sheath on his back without even a word of thanks, which angered her greatly.

"Is that all you came here for?" he asked, sounding bored and impatient.

"Why are you so damned ungrateful?" she questioned, looking at him with eyes filled with anger, "I save your life twice – do I get a thank you? No. I bring you back your sword – do I get a thank you? No. You are quite possibly the rudest man I have ever met in my entire life!"

He manoeuvred his horse so that they were side by side, both horse and rider. "Thank you," he said simply, trying to hide his amusement at her frustration, and only just succeeding.

"It's all very well saying it now!" she shrieked, "saying it just because I mentioned it isn't good enough!"

She was taken completely by surprise when he leant over and kissed her.

"Is that good enough?" he asked her when they broke apart, his lips curving into a full smile.

Najat was speechless; she'd never expected him to do something like that and she certainly didn't expect to like it as much as she had done. She wanted him to do it again. "Y-yes…" she managed to utter, grinning goofily.

"Goodbye, Najat."

"What? Wait!" She made her palomino trot beside his black horse as he moved away, heading towards Kingdom like he'd been before she came and stopped him. "You're just going to leave? Just like that?"

"Yes," he said simply, keeping his eyes on the track ahead and not on her.

"Let me come with you then," she offered.

"No."

"Why not?"

"It is far too dangerous for a woman like you, Najat."

"I can fight, Altair, I am not just any old maiden of the rich district. I won't be getting into trouble and you having to save me like some ridiculous damsel in distress."

"Isn't that how we met in the first place?" he reminded her.

"Yes… But I was caught off guard! I had no weapons to defend myself with."

"I cannot allow you to come with me," he said firmly, "if my enemies find out you are associated with me they will find you and kill you to get to me. I do not wish to put you at such risk."

"I am capable of looking after myself," she said boldly, "I can fight, Altair, I assure you. In fact – I fought some guards this morning."

"I know," he said, "I saw you."

"Then why won't you allow me to come with you?" she asked, "I could be of great use to you. As a woman I can get into places that you cannot."

"I am an assassin, Najat," he said, reminding her of the obvious, "I do not need to get into places; I sneak in."

"Please," she begged, "I promise I can be of use to you."

Altair remained silent for a few moments before speaking again. "Fine," he said, "but at least ride a fair distance behind me until we can find you some more suitable clothes to wear."

Najat looked down at what she was wearing, shocked that he obviously didn't like her best garments, and frowned. He also has no taste, she noted privately.