Welcome to Gaia! :: View User's Journal | Gaia Journals

Shaun awoke to a high, stone ceiling overhead. On either side of them stood stone figures, which made him flinch until he realized they weren't going to attack. Lex lay atop him.

"My head hurts," rasped the Brit.

"That's because you cracked yourself on the floor. You're okay, though. Didn't feel like anything'd been depressed into your brain," said the smaller time traveler.

"Oh, that's comforting." Shaun pushed himself up to a sit, separating their belts. "I suppose the refurbished decore means we're there?"

"Pretty sure." Lex stood and helped the historian to his feet. "Let's go upstairs and see what year it is." The two threaded their way up the stairs. Shaun stopped as they came to the top landing, grasping Lex's shirt to keep him back. The two peered into the office before them. No one was around.

The Englishman looked around the office slowly as they moved toward the door. In their own time, it was rumble, but now... Now it had a splendied wooden desk, one wall entirely covered with old pieces of parchment, a stone plinth in the center as-- The man staggered as Lex yanked him along with a snap of, "Yallah, yallah! We can admire Mario's decore later!"

The two padded through the villa, the Brit craning his neck to catch a glimpse of everything he could. Wooden doors and what looked like marble and through one door he glimpsed armor and through another he saw a woman speaking with a scruffy looking gent...

Then they were out in the sunshine again, the village of Monteriggioni sprawling before them. No cars or mopeds here. People walked the broad streets, some on horseback. Men atop the walls were busily doing something with cannons of all things! Shaun was about to open his mouth and ask if they could go up and see them up close when the two men heard a high-pitched "AHKI!" and a black and white blur slammed into Lex.

The redheaded man looked down at the little boy who was nuzzling into Lex's chest and babbling at fifty miles and hour for a while before he could finally manage, "Lex, who or what in all the hells is this?"

"This is Amir the Coal Tit. He's my brother." The boy noticed him then, eyes lighting up with mischievous glee as he threw himself into the Brit's arms and smacked him a large, wet kiss on each cheek before hopping down again.

"Charmed," Shaun muttered, wiping off his face. When Lex finally managed to get Amir to stop babbling, he asked, "Where's Badr?"

"Who?" The two were off before the question could be answered. "Yes, ignore me. I'll just... I'll follow along. Right, yeah, I'm coming. Don't wait up. Just continue being excitable little sods." The man wound his way through the crowd down the small market street, glancing into the shops. The street, unexpectedly, reeked; the smell came from a dyer's shop. The shop beside it had a man in a bird's mask; when he looked at him, the hairs on the back of his arms and neck rose. Turning his head away, he caught a glimpse of two more shops, an art salesman and a blacksmithy, before he was out the front gate of the village.

Then a cold, wet nose as jammed into his crotch at fifteen miles an hour.

"Bourkan!" Shaun groaned as he opened his eyes and found a slobbery tongue smacking against his face. A dark hand reached out, scruffed the overly affectionate hound, and yanked him back. Looking down at him...well, more far to his right...was a man dressed in what looked like clothes raided from Sir Lawrence of Arabia's wardrobe. A strip of black cloth was wrapped around his eyes. "A thousand pardons, messire," he said in thickly accented Italian. "Bourkan is still young and tends not to listen at all at the best of times." A dark hand reached down; the Brit stared at where the man's ring finger was missing as he reached up and took it. He was yanked to his feet and almost off them again, stumbling against the other's chest. An arm closed around his back to steady him.

"Ah...um...I..." The Brit stammered, heard himself, and wanted to slap himself then and there. Pull it together, Hastings, it's not your doctoral thesis! "Sh-Shukran." He looked at Lex as the smaller man came up to him and whispered, "It is shukran, yeah?"

"It is shukran." The man's voice was a husky whisper in his ear. "And you're welcome, though you'll find I'm blind, not deaf." The man looked in Lex's direction. "Brother, you said this man is an Englishman?"

"Yes, he is."

"Well, don't keep him waiting. Introduce us."

"You seemed like you were getting acquainted nicely without me, but if you insist." He took a breath and said in English, "This is my brother, Badr ibn Sharif ibn Asad al Miraj al Nasr de Arabia." He looked at Badr and switched to Arabic. "Did I get all that right?" A nod. "Great, because I'm not repeating it. Badr, this is Shaun Hastings of England." The blind man lifted a brow.

"Who is his father?" he asked in the old Arabic of Masyaf.

"I don't know."

"Where is he from in England?"

"London, I guess."

"You don't know that either? Did you not have a conversation with this man?"

"No, we've both been kind of busy with the whole saving the world from Templars thing." Both of the man's brows arched up over his blindfold. A disbelieving laugh left him.

"Is this your new novice, little brother?"

"He can be your novice if you want him, but right now are you satisfied with the introductions?"

"For now." He looked at the man. "But where are my manners? Asalaamu alaykum."

"Wa alaykum asalaam," Shaun responded automatically, his face beginning to burn. "Um...yeah, well, so, Mr. Nars...Nasar... Bugger all!"

"Badr will suffice."

"Right. Badr. Can I have a wee bit of a bubble, mate?"

"Shaun. He's an Arab. Your concept of personal space does not exist."

"Bloody hell, is that why Desmond was trying to touch my things?"

"No. Most likely he was trying to touch your things because he's a novice's novice." Badr stepped back from the man, though he kept him well within arms' reach. "I don't suppose, brother, that you came simply to show off this man."

"No, we didn't, but..." Lex trailed off, looking around. "Badr, where's Jameel? Also, what year is it?"

"1499. It's December, too," Amir chimed in from where he was playing with the rambunctious guide dog in training.

"And right now, Skandar, we don't know where Jameel is, other than the fact that he's been captured yet again." The tall Arab stated it bluntly, almost annoyedly. Shaun winced at the look on Lex's face.

"Again?"

"Yes, again. Let me rephrase, though. We do not know where he is, but some others of ours may. You remember our friends the apothacaries from Venezia?"

"Psh. Of course."

"Travel there. The port cities harbor many men and their secrets are wagged casually on many tongues. Our friends will keep you safe while you commence your search. You'll no doubt receive a pigeon or owl from us should we find any further information. Amir, you will accompany him?"

"Yes! And I'll fly, too!" Amir jumped up and down and ran inside to perform a quick Leap from the wall of the village. Lex looked at Badr and clasped his hand. The man nodded to him and added, "Of course, I'll provide you with my swiftest mounts."

Lex laughed, "Just don't put Shaun on Fajera."

"No one touches Fajera without her permission." The man nudged them toward the stable, Shaun following. The Brit made a show of looking at the dish-faced horses, stopping in front of a white that was tossing around its head.

"I think this one looks good for me," he said. Badr moved over to him, one hand running along the stall doors until he brushed his free hand against Shaun's leg. He tapped the wooden door's top and looked at Shaun.

"If you wish to be thrown every few feet from here to Romagna by a randy stallion, feel free, Novice, but I've something a little tamer in mind for you. Unless you feel you can handle him."

"Oh, please, I've handled bigger." The Arab snorted and made an odd motion with his hand. Shaun lifted a brow, but finally understood the over-handed waving and followed after him to a stall on the left. He touched the horse's nose, taking Shaun's hand and pressing it there, allowing the animal to take in his scent.

"This is Nasira. She's a smooth gait and strong back and won't tire even from here to Rome."

"She's a girl too? I think I'm a better fit with the horny bloke back there."

"Then you know nothing, little colt. This woman is bred for war." Slipping a lead over Nasira's head, he drew her out of the stall and saddled her. "I'll take it you know your way onto a horse."

"Oh, I've ridden a few times." On ponies. In a circle. At the fair. As a child. And it was horrid.

"Then you will have no trouble with her. Mount." Shaun gulped, moving up and grasping the mare's mane. For a moment, he was stuck on his stomach, unable to swing his other leg over. Then Badr gave a shove on his a** and he was up, Badr and Lex adjusting the stirrups to his legs. Lex swung up onto a mare of his own, giving Badr a salute.

"We'll wait for your word."

"One thing, though, mate." Shaun looked at Badr. "Owls? What is this, Hogwarts? Are we headed to an academy of witchery and wizardry?"

"You're heading to a swampland that smells of s**t, Novice. If there are any wizards there, make sure they don't take off your head!" He gave Nasira a whack on the rump, the Brit nearly toppling off as she raced after her stablemates.



In one of the monasteries that dotted the Tuscan countryside around San Gimignano, a man in red robes walked a patch of garden. As he passed between rows of herbs, some for the cookpot, some for other treatments, an arm caught his. He wheeled about. The young man who stood before him reminded him once more how absurd the tonsure looked on him, the curling fringe of hair that was left on his head almost falling in his eye. He stood a little shorter than the man in red, the bald dome of his scalp coming up to his nose.

"Forgive me, brother, but you asked to be informed should the need arise. There is news from Monteriggioni. The messenger awaits you inside."