Altair is not too surprised to see Malik and an imam emerge from the small mosque situated off the main thoroughfare of Masyaf's village. His rival enjoys debating history and morality with the holy man, though Altair wonders what purpose it serves. Neither is likely to convince the other: the imam has devoted his life to his god, and Malik is… simply Malik, clever and stubborn and immovable as a rock for as long as Altair has known him.

He is, however, confused by Malik's shuttered expression, focused inwardly and oddly pained. The imam, dressed in his muted black robes and head covering, appears to be chastising Malik, who only nods quietly. They both look startled as he approaches; Altair is used to unnerving other people, but Malik has known him too long to be disconcerted by his mere presence.

"Take care, assassyun," the holy man intones with an air of finality. "Your skepticism, bountiful as it may be, will not protect you, and once is enough for Allah." He regards Malik with resignation, and Altair imagines they have had this argument countless times. "And you," the imam turns to him, bushy eyebrows lowered in warning. "Even the likes of you may be led further astray by heretics and deviants. Jihad, Allah forgives." He looks Altair from head to toe and back up again. "Those who practice liwat, baccha, shirk are beyond redemption."

With that pronouncement, the imam inclines his head respectfully to Malik, who returns the gesture. "Allahu Akbar ," he murmurs, appearing younger with his grey hood drawn back and stripped of his usual contrariness.

Altair watches the priest pass in front of him, waiting until he is out of earshot to ask Malik, "Is there any reason for the warning against fucking men, selling children into slavery, and worshipping other gods?" His eyes continue to follow the imam until he is lost to sight.

Now Malik snorts, and Altair feels some of the tension ease. "You seem the type to need the warning." The two journeymen begin the trek back to the fortress, their feet tracing the familiar path without thought.

Altair is not satisfied with this answer but bides his time. "I have gone this long without the crutch of religion," he remarks. "I am unlikely to start believing in god now."

"And what do you believe in, Altair? What allows you to make the leap of faith?" Malik asks sardonically, as though he already knows the answer.

Altair shrugs – is it not enough that he makes it every time? "I don't know. Myself. The Creed." His words ring hollow, because he has never needed anything to believe in. He is given a command, and he simply obeys; Al Mualim has chosen his favored instrument wisely.

Not for the first time, his words make the younger assassin think of the malaikah, without free will but free of sin as well. In general, Malik feels it to be a poor trade; right now, with the words of the holy man ringing in his ears, it seems a bargain. "It seems you stand at a precipice ." Malik smiles slightly. "I must take care, lest a single misplaced word drive you to a life of depravity."

"You're not one of those deviants the imam warned me of, are you?" Altair means it to be a joke, but his wry laugh gets caught in his throat when Malik stops just outside the main courtyard of the fortress and turns to him, an odd intensity in his gaze. The darker man raises his hand to Altair's breast under the pretense of brushing away some invisible dirt.

"Oh, I am even worse." That warm hand lingers over his heart, and the feel of it makes heat pool in his belly. Malik's eyes appear fathomless, so that Altair might fall into them if he does not take care. "I take pleasure in all the unspeakable things I do." Altair inhales sharply, and the spell is broken: Malik withdraws his hand quickly, leaving a chill in its wake, and strides into the courtyard without looking back.

Altair gazes after him for some time, fingers rubbing the same place on his chest as if soothing a burn. Even after Rauf hails him from the ramparts to come in for the evening meal, he cannot forget the shadows in Malik's eyes or the scorching heat from his hand.

Perhaps the imam's admonition was not misplaced after all.

~~~
malaikah - angels