Assassin's Creed: Underworld (8 page)

‘But not on this occasion?’

A cloud of sadness stole the smile’s slight
beginnings. ‘No, not on this occasion. On this occasion all I heard was the blood rushing
in my head. All I could hear was my father’s voice urging me on to do what had to be done.
When the coin dropped the noise surprised me and it woke Dani and he was quicker to react than I
was.’

‘You should have struck the moment you were
in the room,’ said Ethan, and an anger that didn’t really belong with the boy was
directed at him anyway. ‘You should have struck the second you had the chance. Your
hesitation was your undoing. What did I always tell you? What did your father always advise? You
hesitate, you die – it’s as simple as that. An assassination is not a cerebral act.
It requires great thought, but all of that thought goes into the planning and preparation, the
contemplation and visualization prior to the act itself.
That
is the time for second,
third, fourth thoughts, as many thoughts as you need until you are sure – absolutely
certain – that you are ready to do what needs to be done. Because when you are in the
moment, when you stand before your target, there is no time for hesitation.’

Jayadeep’s eyes swam with tears as he
looked up at his old friend. ‘I know that now.’

Ethan laid a comforting hand
on his. ‘I know. I’m sorry. Tell me what happened next.’

‘He was quick, I’ll give him that,
and I should credit him with a lot more besides, because he was quick and he was strong, and he
sprang from the bed with a speed that surprised me in a man of his age and size and he caught
me, by now practically unarmed, and thrust me backwards to the window.

‘We went straight through it, Dani and I.
We went straight through the shutters and plummeted to the cobbles below, a fall that was
thankfully broken by the canopy beneath. Looking back, perhaps I hoped that my training might
return to me, a kind of instinct, if you like. But it failed me. Even as I rolled away from
Dani, hurt and stunned and desperately trying to get a hold of my senses, I saw faces appear at
the windows on the other side of the street, and heard the sound of the running feet as the
guards hastened towards us.

‘I rolled away from Dani, feeling a
blinding pain in my head and another in my hip. The next moment he was upon me, his teeth bared,
his eyes bright and wide with hatred, his hands fixed round my neck.

‘He never heard the horse. Neither did I.
Earlier we had used strips of blanket to muffle the hooves, Father and I, and he came riding
over the stone towards us, silent as a wraith, and the first I saw of him was a robed figure on
horseback looming behind Dani, one hand on the reins of the horse, the other held out, crooked
at the elbow and flexing, his hidden blade ejecting, moonlight running along the steel. Father
wrapped the reins in his hand and
wrenched back, forcing his horse to rear
up on its hind legs, and for a second I saw him as the fearsome Assassin-warrior of legend. I
saw the death-dealing glint in his eye, his intent to kill as strong and true as the weapon he
wielded. I saw a man I could never hope to be. Perhaps I knew then that I was lost.

‘And perhaps, also, Dani, my intended
victim, knew that death had come from behind. But it was too late, and my father’s blade
punched through the top of his skull and into his brain, killing him instantly – an
instant in which his eyes widened then rolled back and his mouth dropped open in surprise and a
half-second of excruciating agony before his life was extinguished – an instant during
which I saw the blood-streaked steel inside his mouth.

‘Father withdrew his blade and droplets of
blood flew from it as he swept it back, this time to slice the throat of the first oncoming
guard who fell into a mist of arterial spray, his sword not even drawn. Father’s arm swept
back the other way, this time across his chest and there was a ring of steel, as sharp and loud
in the night as Dani’s warning bell as his blade met the sword of the second guard. His
parry sent the attacker staggering back, and in a blink Father was off his horse to claim his
advantage, drawing his sword with his other hand and attacking at the same time.

‘It was over in a heartbeat. In a blur of
robes and steel, Father attacked with both weapons. Instinctively the guard had straightened his
forearm to defend against the sword attack but it left him exposed to a strike from the other
side and that’s exactly what Father did, slamming his hidden blade into the guard’s
armpit.

‘The man fell, his
tunic already crimson, the cobbles gleaming with it. He would bleed out in moments. Either that
or choke on his own blood if …’

‘If the blade punctured his lungs. Yes, I
taught you that myself.’

‘Whether more guards were simply slow in
arriving or had witnessed my father in action and decided that discretion was the better part of
valour, I don’t know. Without a word he regained his horse, reached for me and swept me up
to ride behind him, and then we were gone, leaving the street in pandemonium behind
us.’

There was a long pause. Ethan said nothing,
feeling the boy’s trauma almost as if it were his own. So that was it, he thought.
Jayadeep’s action had broken the tenets of the creed: he had been forced to surrender
hiding in plain sight; worse, he had been forced to compromise the Brotherhood.

‘I know what you’re thinking,’
said Jayadeep at last. ‘You’re thinking I’m a coward.’

‘Well, then you don’t know what
I’m thinking, because that’s not what I’m thinking. There’s a world of
difference between thought and action, and one thing I know of you, Jayadeep, is that
you’re not a coward.’

‘Then why was I unable to deliver the
killing blow?’

Ethan rolled his eyes. Had nobody listened to a
bloody word he’d said? ‘Because you’re not a killer.’

Again came silence. Sorrow bloomed from the boy
and Ethan thought,
What a world we live in, when we mourn an inability to kill
.

‘What did your father say to you, on the
journey home?’

‘Nothing, master. He
said nothing, not a word. But of course his silence spoke volumes, and has continued to do so.
He has not been to see me. Nor Mother.’

Ethan fumed. The bloody tyrant, leaving his own
son in this hole. ‘The Assassins will have forbidden your mother from coming to see
you.’

‘Yes.’

And Ethan could well imagine how Arbaaz had been
feeling. He could picture it as he and his son rode home, dropping off Jayadeep, packed off to
his quarters in silent disgrace, then riding off to see the mentor, Hamid. The boy went on to
tell him that he had been asleep in bed when he was awoken by a black hood over his head, and
had been bundled away to The Darkness. Ethan wondered whether Arbaaz was one of the men who had
taken Jayadeep into custody. Had his own father led the arrest party?

He stood. ‘I will be doing my best to get
you out of here, Jayadeep, of that you may be certain.’

But as he called for Ajay, in English and in
Hindi, what stayed with Ethan was the look in the boy’s eyes as he shook his head in sad
denial of hope.

Ethan and Ajay made the short journey along the
passage and up the stone steps to the meeting room above. There was a second guard, a
striking-looking woman who stood with her feet planted slightly apart and her hands on the hilt
of a large sword, its point on the flagstone at her feet. She regarded Ethan implacably from
beneath her cowl.

‘This is Kulpreet,’ said Ajay by way
of introduction. He
tilted a stubbled jaw in her direction. ‘She is
the best with a sword in the Brotherhood.’

And yet the sword she minded was longer, had a
flatter blade …

‘When?’ Ethan asked her.

‘Tomorrow morning,’ she replied.

And Ethan could see from her eyes that he was
talking to Jayadeep’s executioner.

‘I thank you for seeing me.’

Ethan had every reason to fear that Arbaaz might
simply refuse his request for an audience. What had happened wasn’t Ethan’s fault
– far from it – but in Arbaaz’s eyes he must have been held at least partly
responsible. Then, of course, there was the small matter of the exchange of letters.

Not that he would have taken no for an answer. He
was here to save the life of Jayadeep Mir, and he wasn’t leaving until the job was
done.

Sure enough, his old friend regarded him warily,
with eyes that were tired from worry and sleeplessness, face pinched and drawn. What must he
have been going through? What agonies of torn loyalty, parental love and duty to the
Brotherhood?

His worries had evidently relieved him of his
obligations as a host. There was no offer of bread or olives or wine for Ethan, and certainly no
warm greeting. The Assassin had been led through the cool marble corridors of the Mir household,
disappointed not to catch sight of Pyara – he may have had an ally there – and then
deposited in one of the back offices, a room he himself had once used for tutoring Jayadeep.
Back then he’d chosen the room because of its spartan furniture and decoration.
No distractions. Today, there wasn’t even hot tea. Just a simple woven
wall covering, two straight-backed chairs where they sat, an unpolished table between them and
an unmistakable atmosphere.

‘Don’t misinterpret my reasons for
agreeing to see you, Ethan. I have something I need to ask you.’

Wary, hoping he might have had a chance to state
his case, Ethan spread his hands. ‘Go on.’

‘I want to know, Ethan, how you intend to
do it?’

‘How do I intend to do what?’

‘Free Jayadeep, of course. Do you plan to
break him out of The Darkness or perhaps rescue him from the execution itself? How many
Assassins’ lives do you plan to take in the process?’

The gaze of Arbaaz was flat and terrible.

‘I had rather hoped to talk to you about it
first, Arbaaz, as one of my oldest and dearest friends.’

Arbaaz shook his head. ‘No. There is to be
no discussion. And what’s more I must tell you that you will be under surveillance for the
duration of what I hope is a short stay in Amritsar. The reason you are under surveillance is to
ensure you don’t try to free Jayadeep.’

‘Why might I want to free Jayadeep,
Arbaaz?’ asked Ethan softly, a reasonable tone in his voice.

The other man picked at a knot in the wood with
his fingernail, regarding it as though he expected it to do something. ‘Because your life
in the West has made you soft, Ethan. It’s why the Brotherhood in London is practically
wiped out, and why you and George are mere insurgents compared to the Templar stranglehold.

‘You’re weak,
Ethan. You have allowed your Brotherhood over the water to deteriorate to the point of
irrelevancy and now you want to bring your progressive policies over here and you think
I’ll let you.’

Ethan leaned forward. ‘Arbaaz, this is not
about Templar versus Assassin. This is about Jayadeep.’

Arbaaz’s eyes slid away, clouding for just
a moment. ‘Even more reason that he should pay the ultimate price for his
…’

‘What?’

‘Misconduct.’ Arbaaz’s voice
rose. ‘His misconduct, his incompetence, his negligence.’

‘He needn’t be executed.’

‘You see? You have come to plead for his
life.’

Ethan shrugged. ‘I make no bones about it.
I do come to plead for his life, but you misjudge me if you think me weak, or that I disapprove
of the hard line you take. Quite the opposite, I admire your inner strength and resolve. This
is, after all, your son we’re talking about. I know of no Assassin forced into such a
difficult position as the one you find yourself in now, forced to put duty before
family.’

Arbaaz gave him a sharp sideways look, as though
unsure what to read into Ethan’s words. Seeing his old friend was genuine, his face
folded. ‘I lose a son and wife too,’ he said in a voice that drowned in misery.
‘Pyara will never look at me again. She has made that perfectly clear.’

‘You need not make that
sacrifice.’

‘How so?’

‘Banish him – banish him into my
custody where I have an important job for him, one that, if it is successful, may
help to restore the Brotherhood in London. An operation, Arbaaz, a covert
operation for which Jayadeep, with his particular talents, is ideally suited. He need not die.
Do you see? He can return to England with me and your honour will be satisfied. Suitable
judgement will have been passed upon him, but he will live, Arbaaz. Not in the comfort to which
he is accustomed, I grant you. What I have in mind involves extraordinarily reduced
circumstances. But perhaps you will consider that part of his punishment. And after all, you
needn’t tell that to Pyara. Simply that he is with me. I will be his handler.’

Praying for the right outcome, Ethan watched
indecision flit across the other’s face.

‘I would need to talk to Hamid,’ said
Arbaaz thoughtfully.

‘You would,’ said Ethan, and
suppressed a burst of relief. Arbaaz had no desire to see Jayadeep put to the sword; Ethan was
offering him a way out of a situation that would have torn his family apart, and all with no
loss of face. ‘What’s more, I think you will find that conversation an easier one
than you might imagine,’ continued Ethan. ‘I saw Ajay and Kulpreet today, and if
their mood is representative of the Brotherhood as a whole, then they no more wish to see
Jayadeep executed than you or I. Let the punishment be exile. There are many who consider it
even worse than death.’

‘No,’ said Arbaaz.

Ethan started. ‘I beg your
pardon?’

‘The punishment must be death.’

‘I don’t understand
…’

‘If this assignation
is as undercover as you suggest, then wouldn’t it be advantageous if the agent did not
exist? Who can link him to Jayadeep Mir if Jayadeep Mir is dead?’

Ethan clapped his hands. ‘A ghost?’
he said happily. ‘That’s a stroke of genius, Arbaaz, worthy of the great Assassin I
know.’

Arbaaz stood then, came round the table and
finally took his old friend in an embrace. ‘Thank you, Ethan,’ he said as the
Assassin stumbled clumsily to his feet. ‘Thank you for what you are doing.’

And Ethan left, thinking that, all in all, it had
been a good afternoon’s work. He had not had to use the letter in his pocket, the one in
which Arbaaz had explicitly rejected Ethan’s advice, a letter that proved that any charges
of incompetence or negligence lay not with Jayadeep but with his father. What’s more, he
had saved the life of a boy who was as close to his heart as his own two children, and quite
possibly saved the marriage of Arbaaz and Pyara into the bargain.

Also, he had an agent, and not just any agent.
The most promising Assassin it had ever been his fortune to train.