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TitlePageCopyrightPagePARTI
ONETWOTHREEFOURFIVESIXSEVENEIGHTNINETENELEVENTWELVETHIRTEENFOURTEENFIFTEENSIXTEENSEVENTEENEIGHTEENNINETEENTWENTYTWENTY-ONETWENTY-TWOTWENTY-THREETWENTY-FOURTWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIXTWENTY-SEVENTWENTY-EIGHTTWENTY-NINETHIRTYTHIRTY-ONETHIRTY-TWOTHIRTY-THREETHIRTY-FOURTHIRTY-FIVETHIRTY-SIXTHIRTY-SEVENTHIRTY-EIGHTTHIRTY-NINEFORTYFORTY-ONEFORTY-TWOFORTY-THREEFORTY-FOURFORTY-FIVEFORTY-SIXFORTY-SEVENFORTY-EIGHTFORTY-NINEFIFTYFIFTY-ONEFIFTY-TWOFIFTY-THREEFIFTY-FOURFIFTY-FIVEFIFTY-SIXFIFTY-SEVENPARTII
FIFTY-EIGHTFIFTY-NINESIXTYSIXTY-ONESIXTY-TWOSIXTY-THREESIXTY-FOURSIXTY-FIVESIXTY-SIXSIXTY-SEVENSIXTY-EIGHTSIXTY-NINESEVENTYSEVENTY-ONESEVENTY-TWOSEVENTY-THREESEVENTY-FOURSEVENTY-FIVESEVENTY-SIXSEVENTY-SEVENSEVENTY-EIGHTPARTIII
SEVENTY-NINEEIGHTYEIGHTY-ONEEIGHTY-TWOEIGHTY-THREEEIGHTY-FOUREIGHTY-FIVEEIGHTY-SIXEIGHTY-SEVENEIGHTY-EIGHTEIGHTY-NINE
NINETYNINETY-ONENINETY-TWOLISTOFCHARACTERSGLOSSARYOFFOREIGNTERMSAcknowledgementsAcetitlesbyOliverBowden
SHOOTTOKILL
“Youwillnotleavethisplacealive!”thecaptainbawled,firingagain.Thistime,theboltstuckharmlesslyinawoodendoorframe,whichEziohadduckedbehind.Buttherewasverylittlewrongwiththecaptain’sshooting.Sofar,Eziohadbeenlucky.Hehadtogetaway,andfast.Twomoreboltssangpasthim.“There’snowayout!”thecaptaincalledafterhim.“Youmightaswellturn
andfaceme,youpitifulolddog.”Hefiredagain.Eziodrewabreathandleapttocatchholdofthelintelofanotherdoorway,
swinginghimselfupsothathewasabletogetontotheflatclayroofofadwelling.Heranacrossittotheothersideasanotherboltwhistledpasthisear.“Standyourgroundanddie,”holleredthecaptain.“Yourtimehascome,and
youmustacceptit,evenifitisfarawayfromyourwretchedkennelinRome!Socomeandmeetyourkiller!”Eziocouldseewheresoldierswererunningaroundtothebackofthevillage,
tocutoffhislineofretreat.Buttheyhadleftthecaptainisolated,exceptforhistwosergeants,andhisquiverofboltswasempty.Thevillagershadscatteredanddisappearedlongsince.Ezioduckedbehindthelowwallsurroundingtheroof,unstrappedhisbags
fromhisback,andslippedthepistolharnessontohisrightwrist.“Whywillyounotquit?!”thecaptainwascalling,drawinghissword.Eziostood.“Ineverlearnedhow,”hecalledbackinaclearvoice,raisinghis
gun.
AcetitlesbyOliverBowden
ASSASSIN’SCREED:RENAISSANCEASSASSIN’SCREED:BROTHERHOOD
ASSASSIN’SCREED:THESECRETCRUSADEASSASSIN’SCREED:REVELATIONS
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PARTI
Atonepointmidwayonourpathinlife,Icamearoundandfoundmyselfnowsearchingthroughadarkwood,therightwayblurredandlost.Howharditistosaywhatthatwoodwas,awilderness,savage,brute,harshandwild.Onlytothinkofitrenewsmyfear!
–DANTE,INFERNO
ONE
Aneaglesoared,highinthehard,clearsky.Thetraveler,dusty,batteredfromtheroad,drewhiseyesfromit,pulled
himselfupandoveralow,roughwall,andstoodmotionlessforamoment,scanningthescenewithkeeneyes.Theruggedsnowcappedmountainsfencedinthecastle,protectingitandenclosingitasitrearedonthecrestofitsownheight,thedomedtowerofitskeepmirroringthelesserdomeoftheprisontowernearby.Ironrockslikeclawsclungtothebasesofitssheergreywalls.Notthefirsttimehe’dseenit—adayearlierhe’dcaughthisfirstglimpse,atdusk,fromapromontoryhe’dclimbedamilewest.Builtasifbysorceryinthisimpossibleterrain,atonewiththerocksandcragsitjoinedforceswith.He’darrivedathisgoal—atlast.Aftertwelvewearymonthsonthejourney.
Andsuchalongjourney—thewaysdeepandtheweathersharp.Crouching,justincase,andkeepingstillasheinstinctivelycheckedhis
weapons,thetravelerkeptwatching.Anysignofmovement.Any.Notasoulonthebattlements.Scudsofsnowtwistinginacuttingwind.But
nosignofaman.Theplaceseemeddeserted.Ashe’dexpectedfromwhathe’dreadofit.Butlifehadtaughthimthatitwasalwaysbesttomakesure.Hestayedstill.Notasoundbutthewind.Then—something.Ascraping?Tohisleftaheadof
him,ahandfulofpebblesskittereddownabareincline.Hetensed,roseslightly,headupbetweenduckedshoulders.Thenthearrowwhackedintohisrightshoulder,throughthebodyarmorthere.Hestaggeredalittle,grimacinginpainashishandwenttothearrow,raising
hishead,lookinghardattheskeinofariseintherocks—asmallprecipice,maybetwentyfeethigh—whichrosebeforethefrontofthecastleandservedasanaturalouterbailey.Onitsridgetherenowappearedamaninadullredtunicwithgreyoutergarmentsandarmor.Heboretheinsigniaofacaptain.Hisbareheadwasclose-shaven,andascarsearedhisface,acrossfromrightdowntoleft.Heopenedhismouthinanexpressionthatwaspartsnarl,partsmileoftriumph,showingstuntedanduneventeeth,brownlikethetombstonesinanunkemptgraveyard.Thetravelerpulledatthearrow’sshaft.Thoughthebarbedheadsnaggedon
thearmor,ithadonlypenetratedthemetal,andthepointhadscarcelypenetratedhisflesh.Hesnappeditofftheshaftandthrewitaside.Ashedidsohesawahundredandmorearmedmen,similarlydressed,halberdsandswordsready,lineupalongthecrestoneithersideoftheshaven-headedcaptain.Helmetswithnoseguardshidtheirfaces,buttheblackeaglecrestsontheirtunicstoldthetravelerwhotheywere,andheknewwhathecouldexpectfromthemiftheytookhim.Washegettingold,tohavefallenintoatrapsosimple?Buthe’dtakenevery
precaution.Andithadn’tsucceededyet.Hesteppedback,readyforthemastheypoureddowntotheruggedplatform
ofgroundhestoodon,fanningouttosurroundhim,keepingthelengthoftheirhalberdsbetweenthemselvesandtheirprey.Hecouldsensethatdespitetheirnumbers,theyfearedhim.Hisreputationwasknown,andtheywererighttobewary.Hegaugedthehalberdheads.Double-type:axeandpike.Heflexedhisarmsandfromhiswristshistwolean,grey,deadlyhidden-
bladessprang.Bracinghimself,hedeflectedthefirstblow,sensingthatithadbeenhesitant—didtheywanttotrytotakehimalive?Thentheystarteddiggingathimfromallsideswiththeirweapons,tryingtobringhimtohisknees.Hewhirled,andwithtwocleanmovementsslicedthroughthehaftsofthe
nearesthalberds,seizingtheheadofoneasitflewthroughtheair,beforeitcouldfalltoearth;andtakingthestumpofitshaftinhisfist,heburiedtheaxebladeinthechestofitsformerowner.Theyclosedinonhimthen,andhewasjustintimetostooplowasarushof
airsignaledthepassageofaswungpikeasitsickledoverhim,missinghisbentbackbyaninch.Heswungroundsavagelyandwithhisleft-handhidden-bladehackeddeepintothelegsoftheattackerwho’dstoodbehindhim.Withahowl,themanwentdown.Thetravelerseizedthefallenhalberd,whichamomentearlierhadalmost
endedhim,andswiveleditroundintheair,slicingthehandsoffanotherofhisassailants.Thehandsarchedthroughtheair,thefingerscurledasifbeseechingmercy,aplumeofbloodlikearedrainbowcurvetrailingbehindthem.Thatstoppedthemforamoment,butthesemenhadseenworsesightsthan
that,andthetravelerhadonlyasecond’srespitebeforetheywereclosingagain.Heswungthehalberdagainandleftitsbladedeepintheneckofamanwho,aninstantbefore,hadbeenmovinginforthekill.Thetravelerletgoofitspoleand
retractedhishidden-bladesinoneactioninordertofreehishandstoseizeasergeantwieldingabroadsword,whomhethrewbodilyintoaknotofhistroops,seizinghisswordfromhim.Hehefteditsweight,feelinghisbicepstenseashetookadoublegripandraiseditjustintimetocleavethehelmetofanotherhalberdier,thistimecomingfromhisrearleftquarter,hopingtoblindsidehim.Theswordwasgood.Betterforthisjobthanthelightscimitarathisside,
acquiredonhisjourney.Andthehidden-bladesforclosework.Theyhadneverlethimdown.Moremenwerestreamingdownfromthecastle.Howmanywouldittaketo
overpowerthisloneman?Theycrowdedhim,buthewhirledandjumpedtoconfusethem,seekingfreedomfromtheirpressbyhurlinghimselfoverthebackofoneman,findinghisfeet,bracinghimself,deflectingasword’sblowwiththehardmetalbraceronhisleftwrist,andturningtodrivehisownswordintothatattacker’sside.Butthen—amomentarilylull.Why?Thetravelerpaused,gettinghisbreath.
Therewasatimewhenhewouldnothaveneededtogethisbreath.Helookedup.Stillfencedinbythetroopsingreychainmail.Butamongthem,thetravelersuddenlysawanotherman.Anotherman.Walkingbetweenthem.Unobserved,calm.Ayoungmanin
white.Cladasthetravelerwas,otherwise,andwearingthesamecowloverhishead,thehoodpeaked,ashiswas,toasharppointatthefront,likeaneagle’sbeak.Thetraveler’slipspartedinwonder.Allseemedsilent.Allseemedatrest,exceptfortheyoungmaninwhite,walking.Steadily,calmly,undismayed.Theyoungmanseemedtowalkamongthefightinglikeamanwouldwalk
throughafieldofcorn—asifitdidnottouchoraffecthimatall.Wasthatthesamebucklefasteninghisgear,thesameastheonethetravelerwore?Withthesameinsignia?Theinsigniathathadbeenbrandedonthetraveler’sconsciousnessandhislifeforoverthirtyyears—justassurelyas,longago,hisringfingerhadbeenbranded?Thetravelerblinked,andwhenheopenedhiseyes,thevision—ifthatwas
whatithadbeen—haddisappeared,andthenoise,thesmells,thedanger,wereback,allaroundhim,closingonhim,rankuponrankofanenemyheknewatlastthathecouldnotovercomeorescapefrom.Butsomehowhedidnotfeelsoalone.Notimetothink.Theywereclosinginhard,asscaredastheywereangry.
Blowsrained,toomanytofendoff.Thetravelerfoughthard,tookdownfivemore,ten.Buthewasfightingahydrawithathousandheads.Abigswordsman
cameupandbroughtatwenty-poundbladedownonhim.Heraisedhisleftarmtofenditoffwiththebracer,turninganddroppinghisownheavyswordashedidsotobringhisright-handhidden-bladeintoplay.Buthisattackerwaslucky.Themomentumofhisblowwasdeflectedbythebracer,butitwasstilltoopowerfultoglanceoffcompletely.Itslidtowardthetraveler’sleftwristandmadecontactwiththeleft-handhidden-blade,snappingitoff.Atthesamemoment,thetraveler,caughtoffbalance,stumbledonalooserockathisfeetandturnedhisankle.Hecouldnotstophimselffromfallingfacedownontothestonyground.Andtherehelay.Abovehim,thecircleofmenclosedin,keepingthelengthoftheirhalberds
betweenthemselvesandtheirquarry,stilltense,stillscared,notyetdaringtobetriumphant.Butthepointsoftheirpikesmadecontactwithhisback.Onemove,andhe’dbedead.Andhewasnotreadyforthat,yet.Thecrunchofbootsonrock.Amanapproaching.Thetravelerturnedhishead
slightlytoseetheshaven-headedcaptainstandingoverhim.Thescarwaslividacrosshisface.Hebentcloseenoughforthetravelertosmellhisbreath.Thecaptaindrewthetraveler’shoodbackjustenoughtoseehisface.He
smiledashisexpectationwasconfirmed.“Ah,theMentorhasarrived.EzioAuditoredaFirenze.We’vebeenexpecting
you—asyouhavenodoubtrealized.Mustbequiteashocktoyou,toseeyourBrotherhood’soldstrongholdinourhands.Butitwasboundtohappen.Forallyourefforts,wewereboundtoprevail.”Hestooderect,turnedtothetroopsencirclingEzio,twohundredstrong,and
snappedoutanorder.“Takehimtotheturretcell.Manaclehimfirst,andstrongly.”TheypulledEziotohisfeetandhastily,nervously,boundhimfast.“Justashortwalkandalotofstairs,”thecaptainsaid.“Andthenyou’dbetter
pray.We’llhangyouinthemorning.”Highabovethem,theeaglecontinueditssearchforprey.Noonehadaneyeforit.Foritsbeauty.Itsfreedom.
TWO
Theeaglestillwheeledinthesky.Apalebluesky,bleachedbythesun,thoughthesunwasalittlelower.Thebirdofprey,adarksilhouette,turningandturning,butwithpurpose.Itsshadowfellonthebarerocksfarbelow,tornjaggedbythemasitpassedover.Eziowatchedthroughthenarrowwindow—nomorethanagashinthethick
stone—andhiseyeswereasrestlessasthemovementsofthebird.Histhoughtswererestless,too.Hadhetraveledsofarandforsolong,onlyforitalltocometothis?Heclenchedhisfists,andhismusclesfelttheabsenceofthehidden-blades,
whichhadforsolongstoodhiminsuchgoodstead.Buthehadanideaofwherethey’dstowedhisweapons,afterthey’d
ambushedhimandoverpoweredhimandbroughthimhere.Agrimsmileformedonhislips.Thosetroops,theoldenemy—howsurprisedthey’dbeenthatsuchanoldlioncouldstillhavesomuchfightinhim.Andheknewthiscastle.Fromchartsanddiagrams.Hehadstudiedthemso
wellthattheywereprintedonhismind.Butherehewas,inacellinoneofthetopmosttowersofthegreatfortressof
Masyaf,thecitadelthathadoncebeenthestrongholdoftheAssassins,longsinceabandoned,andnowfallentotheTemplars.Herehewas—alone,unarmed,hungry,andthirsty,hisclothesgrimyandtorn,awaitingeverymomentthefootfallofhisexecutioners.Butnotabouttogoquietly.HeknewwhytheTemplarswerethere;hehadtostopthem.Andtheyhadn’tkilledhimyet.Hekepthiseyesontheeagle.Hecouldseeeveryfeather,everypinion,the
fannedrudderofthetail,speckledblack-brownandwhite,likehisownbeard.Thepurewhitewingtips.Hethoughtback.Hetracedtheroutethathadbroughthimthere—tothis.Othertowers,otherbattlements.LiketheonesatViana,fromwhichhehad
flungCesareBorgiatohisdoom.ThathadbeenintheyearofOurLord1507.Howlongagowasthat?Fouryears.Itmightaswellhavebeenfourcenturies,itseemedsodistant.Andinthemeantime,othervillains,otherwould-bemastersoftheworld,hadcomeandgone,insearchoftheMystery,insearchofthe
Power,andforhim,aprisoneratlast,thebattletocounterthemhadgoneon.Thebattle.Hiswholelife.Theeaglewheeledandturned,itsmovementsconcentrated.Eziowatchedit,
knowingthatithadlocatedpreyandwasfocusingonit.Whatlifecouldtherebedownthere?Butthevillagethatsupportedthecastle,crouchedlowandunhappyinitsshadow,wouldhavelivestock,andevenascrapofcultivatedlandsomewherenearby.Agoat,maybe,downthereamongthetumbleofgreyrocksthatlitteredthelow,surroundinghills;eitherayoungone,tooinexperienced,oranoldone,tootired,oronethathadbeeninjured.Theeagleflewagainstthesun,itssilhouettemomentarilyblottedoutbytheincandescentlight;andthen,tighteningitscircle,ithung,poised,atlast,hangingthereinthevastbluearena,beforeitswoopeddown,crashingthroughtheairlikeathunderbolt,andoutofsight.Ezioturnedawayfromthewindowandlookedaroundthecell.Abed,hard
darkwood,justplanksonit,nobedding,astool,andatable.Nocrucifixonthewall,andnothingelseexcepttheplainpewterbowlandspoonwhichcontainedthestill-untastedgruelthey’dgivenhim.That,andawoodenbeakerofwater,alsountasted.Forallhisthirstandhunger,Eziofeareddrugsthatmightweakenhim,renderhimpowerlesswhenthemomentcame.AnditwasalltoopossiblethattheTemplarswouldhavedruggedthefoodanddrinktheygavehim.Heturnedaroundinthenarrowcell,buttheroughstonewallsgavehim
neithercomfortnorhope.Therewasnothingherehecouldusetoescape.Hesighed.TherewereotherAssassins,othersintheBrotherhoodwhoknewofhismission,whohadwantedtoaccompanyhim,even,despitehisinsistencethathetravelalone.Perhaps,whennonewscame,theywouldtakeupthechallenge.Butthen,perhaps,itwouldbetoolate.Thequestionwas,howmuchdidtheTemplarsalreadyknow?Howmuchof
thesecretdidtheyalreadyhaveintheirpossession?Hisquest,whichhadnowcometosuchanabrupthaltatthemomentofitsfruition,hadbegunsoonafterhisreturntoRome,wherehehadbidfarewelltohiscompanions,LeonardodaVinciandNiccolòMachiavelli,onhisforty-eighthbirthday,MidsummerDay.NiccolòwastoreturntoFlorence,LeonardotoMilan.Leonardohadspokenoftakingupapressingofferofmuch-neededpatronagefromFrancis,heirapparenttothethroneofFrance,andaresidencein
Amboise,ontheRiverLoire.Atleast,thatwaswhathislettershadrevealedtoEzio.Eziosmiledatthememoryofhisfriend.Leonardo,whosemindwasever
teemingwithnewideasthoughitalwaystookhimawhiletogetaroundtothem.Hethoughtruefullyofthehidden-blade,whichhadbeenshatteredinthefightwhenthey’dambushedhim.Leonardo—howhemissedhim!—theonemanhecouldhavereallytrustedtomendit.ButatleastLeonardohadsenthimtheplanshe’dmadeforanewdevice,whichhecalledaparachute.EziohadhaditconstructedbackinRome,anditwaspackedwithhiskit,andhedoubtediftheTemplarswouldmakemuchsenseofit.Hewouldputittogooduseassoonashegotachance.Ifhegotachance.Hesteeledhimselfagainstdarkthoughts.Buttherewasnothingtodo,nomeansofescape,untiltheycametogethim,
tohanghim.Hewouldhavetoplanwhattodothen.Heimaginedthat,assoofteninthepast,hewouldhavetoextemporize.Inthemeantime,he’dtrytoresthisbody.Stillfit,he’dmadesureofthatintrainingbeforethisjourney,andthejourneyitselfhadhardenedhim.Buthewasglad—eveninthesecircumstances—ofthechancetorestafterthatfight.Ithadallstartedwithaletter.UnderthebenevolenteyeofPopeJuliusII,whohadaidedhiminhis
vanquishingoftheBorgiafamily,EziohadrebuiltandrestructuredtheAssassins’BrotherhoodinRomeandestablishedhispowerbasethere.Forawhileatleast,theTemplarswereinabeyance,andEziolefttherunning
ofoperationsinthecapablehandsofhissisterClaudia;buttheAssassinsremainedvigilant.TheyknewthattheTemplarswouldregroup,secretly,elsewhere,insatiableintheirquestfortheinstrumentsbywhichtheycouldatlastcontroltheworldinaccordancewiththeirsombertenets.Theywerebestedforthemoment,butthebeastwasnotdead.Eziodrewcomfortandsatisfactionfromthefact—andhesharedthisdark
knowledgewithMachiavelliandLeonardoalone—thattheAppleofEden,whichhadfallenintohiscare,andwhichhadcausedsomuchanguishanddeathinthebattleforitspossession,wasburiedandhiddendeepinthevaultsbelowtheChurchofSanNicolainCarcere,inasecretsealedroomwhoselocationthey
hadmarkedonlywiththesacredsymbolsoftheBrotherhood—whichonlyafutureAssassinwouldbeabletodiscern,letalonedecipher.ThegreatestPieceofEdenwassafelyconcealedfromtheambitiousgraspoftheTemplars—asEziohoped,forever.AfterthedamagewroughttotheBrotherhoodbytheBorgias,therehadbeen
muchtoretrieve,muchtoputinorder,andtothistaskEziohaddevotedhimself,uncomplainingly,althoughhewasfarmoreinclinedtoopenairandactionthantoporingoverpapersindustyarchives.Thatwasajobmoresuitedtohislatefather’ssecretary,Giulio,ortothebookishMachiavelli;butMachiavelliwasbusycommandingtheFlorentinemilitiathesedays,andGiuliowaslongdead.Still,Ezioreflected,ifhehadn’tsaddledhimselfwiththeresponsibilityfor
whatwastohimadrearytask,hemightneverhavefoundtheletter.Andifanotherhad,thatpersonmightnothaveguesseditssignificance.Theletter,whichhe’dfoundinaleathersatchel,brittlewithage,wasfrom
Ezio’sfather,Giovanni,tohisbrotherMario,themanwho’dtaughtEziotheartofwarandinitiatedhimintotheBrotherhoodthreelongdecadesearlier.Mario.Ezioflinchedatthememory.Mario,whohaddiedatthecruelandcowardlyhandsofCesareBorgiainthewakeofthebattleofMonteriggioni.Mariohadlongsincebeenavenged,buttheletterEziofoundopenedanew
chapter,anditscontentsprofferedhimthechanceofanewmission.Itwas1509whenhe’dfoundit,andhe’djustturnedfifty;heknewthatthechanceofnewmissionsseldomcametomenofhisage.Besides,theletterofferedhimthehopeandthechallengeofclosingthegatesofopportunityontheTemplarsforever.
PalazzoAuditoreFirenzeivfebbraioMCDLVIIIDearBrother—Theforcesagainstusaregatheringstrength,andthereisamaninRomewhohastakencommandofourenemieswhoisperhapsthegreatestpoweryouandIwilleverhavetoreckonwith.Forthisreason,Iimparttoyou,underthesealofutmostsecrecy,thefollowinginformation.Iffateshouldovertakeme,ensure—withyourlife,ifnecessary—thatthisinformationneverfallsintoourenemies’hands.Thereis,asyouknow,acastlecalledMasyafinSyria,whichwasoncethe
seatofourBrotherhood.There,overtwocenturiesago,ourthenMentor,Altaïr
Ibn-La’Ahad,greatestofourOrder,establishedalibrarydeepbeneaththefortress.Isaynomorenow.DiscretiondictatesthatwhatelseIhavetotellyouofthis
mustbeinconversationandneverwrittendown.ThisisaquestIwouldhavelongedtoaccomplishmyself,butthereisnotime
now.Ourenemiespressuponus,andwehavenotimeexcepttofightback.
YourBrotherGiovanniAuditore
Withthisletterwasanothersheetofpaper—atantalizingfragment,clearlyinhisfather’shandwritingbutequallyclearlynotbyhim—atranslationofamucholderdocument,alsotherewithit,onparchmentthataccordedverycloselywiththatonwhichtheoriginalCodexpages,uncoveredbyEzioandhiscompanionsnearlythirtyyearsearlier,hadbeenwritten:
Ihavespentdayswiththeartifactnow.Orhasitbeenweeks?Months?Theotherscomefromtimetotime,offeringfoodordistraction;andthoughIknowinmyheartIshouldseparatemyselffromthesedarkstudies,Ifinditmoreandmoredifficulttoassumemynormalduties.Malikhasbeensupportive,butevennowthatoldedgereturnstohisvoice.Still,myworkmustcontinue.ThisAppleofEdenmustbeunderstood.Itsfunctionissimple.Elementary,even:dominion.Control.Buttheprocess...themethodsandmeansitemploys...THESEarefascinating.Itistemptationincarnate.Thosesubjectedtoitsglowarepromisedallthattheydesire.Itasksonlyonethinginreturn:completeandtotalobedience.Andwhocantrulyrefuse?IremembermyownmomentofweaknesswhenconfrontedbyAlMualim,myMentor,andmyconfidencewasshakenbyhiswords.He,whohadbeenlikeafather,wasnowrevealedtobemygreatestenemy.Justthebriefestflickerofdoubtwasallheneededtocreepintomymind.ButIvanquishedhisphantoms—restoredmyself-confidence—andsenthimfromthisworld.Ifreedmyselffromhiscontrol.ButnowIwonder,isthistrue?ForhereIsit—desperatetounderstandthatwhichIintendedtodestroy.Isenseitismorethanjustaweapon,atoolformanipulatingmen’sminds.Orisit?Perhapsit’ssimplyfollowingitsdesign:showingmewhatIdesiremost.Knowledge...Alwayshoveringattheedge.Justoutofreach.Beckoning.Promising.Tempting...
Theoldmanuscripttailedoffthere,therestlost,and,indeed,theparchmentwassobrittlewithagethatitsedgescrumbledashetouchedit.Eziounderstoodlittleofit,butsomeofitwassofamiliarthathisskintingled,
evenhisscalp,atthememory.Itdidagain,asEziorecalledit,sittinginhiscellintheprisontowerat
Masyaf,watchingthesunsetonwhatmightbehislastdayonearth.Hevisualizedtheoldmanuscriptinhismind.Itwasthis,morethananything,
thathaddeterminedhimtotraveleast,toMasyaf.Darknessfellquickly.Theskywascobaltblue.Starsalreadyspeckledit.Fornoreason,Ezio’sthoughtsturnedtotheyoungmaninwhite.Theman
he’dseemedtoseeinthelullinthefighting.Whohadappearedanddisappearedsomysteriously,likeavision,butwhohad,somehow,beenreal,andwhohad,somehow,communicatedwithhim.
THREE
PreparationsforhisjourneyhadtakenEziotherestofthatyearandspilledintothenext.HerodenorthtoFlorenceandconferredwithMachiavelli,thoughhedidnottellhimallthatheknew.InOstia,hevisitedBartolomeod’Alviano,whohadfilledoutwithtoomuchgoodfoodandwinebutwasasferociousaseverthoughhewasafamilymannow.HeandPantasileahadproducedthreesonsand,amonthago,adaughter.Whathadhesaid?“Timeyougotamoveon,Ezio!Noneofusisgettinganyyounger.”Eziohadsmiled.Bartowasluckierthanheknew.Ezioregrettedthattherewasnotimetoextendhisjourneyfarthernorthto
Milan,buthehadkepthisweaponryingoodorder—theblades,thepistol,thebracer—andtherewasnotime,either,totemptLeonardointofindingyetmorewaysofimprovingthem.Indeed,Leonardohimselfhadsaid,afterhe’dlastoverhauledthem,ayearearlier,thattheywerenowbeyondimprovement.Thatremainedtobeseenwhentheywerenextputtothetest.MachiavellihadgivenhimothernewsinFlorence,acityhestillsetfootin
onlywithsadness,soheapedwasitwithmemoriesofhislostfamilyandhisdevastatedinheritance.Hislostlove,too—thefirstand,hethought,perhapstheonlytrueoneofhislife—CristinaVespucci.Twelveyears—coulditreallybesolongsinceshehaddiedatthehandsofSavonarola’sfanatics?Andnowanotherdeath.Machiavellihadtoldhimaboutit,hesitantly.ThefaithlessCaterinaSforza,whohadblightedEzio’slifeasmuchasCristinahadblessedit,hadjustdied,awastedoldwomanofforty-six,forgottenandpoor,hervitalityandconfidencelongsinceextinguished.Ashewentthroughlife,Eziobegantothinkthatthebestcompanyhe’dever
trulyhavewouldbehisown.Buthehadnotimetogrieveorbrood.Themonthsflewby,andsoonitwas
Christmas,andsomuchstilltodo.Atlast,earlyintheNewYear,ontheFeastofSt.Hilary,hewasready,anda
daywassetforhisdeparturefromRome,viaNaples,tothesouthernportofBari,withanescortorganizedbyBartolomeo,who’dridewithhim.AtBari,hewouldtakeship.
FOUR
“Godgowithyou,brother,”ClaudiatoldhimonhislastmorninginRome.Theyhadrisenbeforedawn.Eziowouldleaveatfirstlight.“Youmusttakecareofthingshereinmyabsence.”“Doyoudoubtme?”“Notanymore.Haveyoustillnotforgivenmeforthat?”Claudiasmiled.“ThereisagreatbeastinAfricacalledtheelephant.Theysay
itneverforgets.Itisthesamewithwomen.Butdon’tworry,Ezio.Iwilltakecareofthingsuntilyoureturn.”“OruntilwehaveneedofanewMentor.”Claudiadidn’treplytothat.Herfacebecametroubled.Shesaid:“This
mission.Whydoyougoalone?Whyhaveyousaidsolittleofitsimport?”“‘Hetravelsfastestwhotravelsalone,’”Ezioquotedbywayofreply.“Asfor
details,Ihaveleftourfather’spapersinyourkeeping.OpenthemifIdonotreturn.AndIhavetoldyouallyouneedtoknowofMasyaf.”“Giovanniwasmyfather,too.”“Butheentrustedthisresponsibilitytome.”“Youhaveassumedit,brother.”“IamMentor,”hesaid,simply.“Itismyresponsibility.”Shelookedathim.“Well,travelsafely.Write.”“Iwill.Inanycase,youwon’thavetoworryaboutmebetweenhereandBari.
Bartowillbewithmealltheway.”Shestilllookedworried.Eziowastouchedthatthetoughwomanhissister
hadgrownuptobestillhadatenderspotinherheartforhim.HisoverlandjourneywouldleadhimthroughItaly’ssouthernterritories,andtheywerecontrolledbytheCrownofAragon.ButKingFerdinandhadn’tforgottenhisdebttoEzio.“IfI’mafteraction,”hetoldher,readingherthought,“Iwon’tgetanyuntilI
setsail.AndmycourseleadsprettyfartothenorthformetohavetoworryaboutBarbarycorsairs.We’llhugtheGreekcoastafterCorfu.”“I’mmoreworriedaboutyourcompletingwhatyou’resettingouttodo.Not
becauseI’mworriedaboutyoupersonally—”“Ohreally?Thankyouforthat.”
Shegrinned.“YouknowwhatImean.Fromallyou’vesaid,andSantaVeronicamayholdwitnessthatyou’vetoldmelittleenough,agoodoutcomeisimportantforus.”“That’swhyI’mgoingnow.BeforetheTemplarscanregainstrength.”“Seizetheinitiative?”“That’saboutit.”Shetookhisfaceinherhands.Helookedatheronelasttime.Atforty-nine,
shewasstillastrikinglybeautifulwoman,herdarkhairstilldarkandherfierynatureunquenched.Sometimesheregrettedthatshehadnotfoundanothermanafterthedeathofherhusband,butshewasdevotedtoherchildrenandherwork,andmadenosecretofthefactthatshelovedlivinginRome,which,underPopeJulius,hadonceagainbecomeasophisticatedinternationalcityandanartisticandreligiousmecca.Theyembraced,andEziomountedhishorse,attheheadoftheshort
cavalcadethatwasaccompanyinghim—fifteenarmedridersunderBarto,whowasalreadymounted,hisheavyhorsepawingthedust,impatienttobegone,andawagontocarrytheirsupplies.Forhimself,allEzioneededwasintwoblackleathersaddlebags.“I’llforageasIgoalong,”he’dtoldClaudia.“You’regoodatthat,”she’drepliedwithawrygrin.Raisinghishandashesettledintothesaddle,Eziowheeledhishorse,and,as
Bartobroughthisownsteedalongside,theymadetheirwaydowntheeastsideoftheriver,awayfromtheAssassins’HeadquartersonTiberIsland,towardthecitygatesandthelongroadsouth.
IttookthemfifteendaystoreachBari,andoncethere,Eziobadeleaveofhisoldfriendhastily,inordernottomissthefirstavailablefloodtide.HetookashipbelongingtotheTurkishmerchantfleetmanagedbyPiriReisandhisfamily.Onceinstalledintheaftercabinofthelargelateen-saileddhow,theAnaan—afreighteronwhichhewastheonlypassenger—Eziotooktheopportunitytocheck—onceagain—theessentialgearhehadtakenwithhim.Twohidden-blades,oneforeachwrist,hisbracerfortheleftforearm,todeflecttheblowsofswords,andthespring-loadedpistolthatLeonardohadmadeforhim,alongwithallhisotherspecialarmaments,fromancientdesignsfoundinthepagesofthe
CodexoftheAssassins.Eziowastravelinglight.Intruth,heexpectedtofindMasyaf,ifhesucceeded
inreachingit,deserted.Atthesametime,headmittedtohimselfthathewasuneasyatthescarcityofAssassinintelligenceaboutTemplarmovementsinthepresentdaysofapparent,or,atleast,relative,peace.Asfarasthissecondlegofthejourney,whichwouldtakehimtoCorfu,was
concerned,heknewhehadlittletofear.PiriReiswasagreatcaptainamongtheOttomans,andhadoncebeenapiratehimself,sohismenwouldknowhowtohandlethemiffearofPiri’snamealonedidn’tkeepthematbay.Eziowonderedifhe’devermeetthegreatmanhimselfoneday.Ifhedid,hehopedPiri,notknownforhiseasygoingnature,wouldhaveforgottenthetimewhentheBrotherhoodhadbeenconstrainedto“liberate”someofPiri’spreciousmapsfromhim.TheOttomansthemselvesnowheldswayoverGreeceandmuchofeastern
Europe—indeed,theirterritoriesalmosttouchedthoseofVeniceinthewest.Noteveryonewashappywiththesituation,andwiththepresenceofsomanyTurksinEurope;butVenice,afterastandoff,hadcontinuedtotradewithitsMuslimneighbors,andlaSerenissimahadkeptcontrolofCorfu,Crete,andCyprus.Eziocouldn’tseethesituationlasting—theOttomanshadalreadymade
unfriendlyadvancesonCyprus—butforthemoment,peaceheld,andSultanBayezidwastoopreoccupiedwithinternalfamilysquabblestomakeanytroubleinthewest.Thebroad-beamedship,withhergreatsailofwhitecanvas,cutthroughthe
watermorelikeabroadswordthanaknife,buttheymadegoodtimedespiteadverseheadwinds,andtheshortvoyageacrossthemouthoftheAdriatictooklittlemorethanfivedays.AfterawelcomefromthegovernorofCorfu,afatItaliancalledFrancowho
likedtobecalledSpyridon,afterthelocalpatronsaint,andwholongsincehadclearlyabandonedpoliticsforlotus-eating,Eziohadatalkwiththeship’scaptainastheystoodonabalconyfrontingthegovernor’svilla,andlookingoutoverpalmtreestotheharbor,whichnestledunderaskyofbluevelvet.InexchangeforanotherpouchofVenetiansoldi,theyagreedbetweenthemthatEzioshouldcontinueontoAthens.“That’sourdestination,”thecaptaintoldhim.“We’llbehuggingthecoast,
I’vedonethetriptwentytimes,therewillbenoproblem,nodanger.AndfromthereitwillbeeasytotakeavesselboundforCreteandevenontoCyprus.Infact,I’llintroduceyoutomybrother-in-lawMa’MunwhenwereachAthens.
He’sashippingagent.He’lltakecareofyou.”“I’mobliged,”Eziosaid.Hehopedtheman’sconfidencewaswellplaced.
TheAnaanwastakingonanimportantcargoofspicesfortransfertoAthens,andEziorememberedenoughfromhisearlydayswhenhisfatherwasoneofthemajorbankersofFlorencetoknowthatthiscargowouldmaketheAnaanatemptingtargetforanypirate,nomatterhowgreatafearthenameofPiriReismightstrikeinthem.Ifyoufightonaship,youneedtobeabletomovefastandlightly.Inthetown,thefollowingmorning,hewenttoanarmorerandboughtawell-temperedscimitar,beatingthemandowntoonehundredsoldi.“Insurance,”Eziotoldhimself.Thefollowingdayatdawn,thetidewashighenoughforthemtobegintheir
voyage,andtheytookadvantageofit,togetherwithabrisknortherlywind,whichfilledtheirsailimmediately.Theycoastedsouth,keepingtheshoreaboutamiletotheirportside.Thesunsparkledonthesteelbluewaves,andthewarmwindcaressedtheirhair.OnlyEziocouldnotquitebringhimselftorelax.They’dreachedapointjustsouthoftheislandofZantewhenithappened.
Theyhadpulledoutfarthertoseatotakefulladvantageofthewind,andthewaterhadturneddarkerandchoppier.Thesunwasdippingtowardthewesternhorizon,andyoucouldn’tlookinthatdirectionandseeanythingwithoutsquinting.Themarinerswerecastingalogoverthestarboardsidetotakethespeed,andEziowatchedthem.Afterward,hecouldn’thavesaidwhatitwasthathadcaughthisattention.A
seabird,perhaps,dippingalongthesideoftheship,attractedhiseye.Butitwasnobird.Itwassail.Twosails.Twoseagoinggalleys,cominginoutofthesun,takingthembysurpriseandalmostuponthem.Thecorsairshadlainalongsidealmostbeforethecaptainhadhadtimeto
summonhiscrewtoarmsandactionstations.ThepiratesthrewgrapplingironsonropesovertheAnaan’ssidesandweresoonscramblingaboard,asEzioracedafttoarmhimself.Luckily,hehadthescimitaralreadyathissideandwasabletoputittoitsfirsttests,slicinghiswaythroughfiveBerberseamenashestruggledtoreachhisgoal.Hewasbreathingheavilyashehastilystrappedonhisbracerandhisgun.He
hadenoughfaithinthescimitarbythentodispensewithhishidden-blades,whichhestowedquicklyinahidingplaceinthecabin,andhejudgedthebracerandthegunthebetterweaponsforthiscombat.Hesprangoutintothefray—aroundhimthefamiliarclashingofweaponsand
alreadythesmellofblood.Afirehadstartedforward,andthewind,whichhad
chosenthatmomenttoturn,nowthreatenedtodragitaftthelengthoftheship.CommandingtwoOttomansailorstograbbuckets,heorderedthembackforwardtowheretheship’swaterreservoirwas.Atthatmoment,apirateflunghimselffromtheriggingontoEzio’sshoulders.Oneofthesailorsyelledoutawarning.Eziospunround,flexedthemusclesofhisrightwrist,andhisgunsprangfromthemechanismstrappedtohisforearm,intohishand.Swiftly,withnotimetoaim,hefired,steppingbackimmediatelytoallowthestill-fallingbodytocrashpasthimontothedeck.“Fill,quickly,andputouttheflamesbeforetheyspread,”heyelled.“Theship
willbelostifthefiretakeshold.”HehackedawayatthreeorfourBerberswhohadracedtowardhim,sensing
alreadythathewastheonemanaboardtoneutralize,iftheirattackwastobesuccessful.Hethenfoundhimselfconfrontedwiththecorsaircaptain,aburlybrutewithanEnglishcutlassineachhand—booty,nodoubt,fromsomeearlierunfortunatevictims.“Yield,Venetiandog!”themansnarled.“Yourfirstmistake,”repliedEzio.“NeverinsultaFlorentinebymistaking
himforaVenetian.”Thecaptain’sreplywastobringasavageleft-armedblowringingdown
towardEzio’shead,butEziowasreadyforitandraisedhisownleftarm,lettingthecutlassbladeslideharmlesslythelengthofthebracerandoffintotheair.Thecaptainhadn’texpectedthisandwasthrownoffbalance.Eziotrippedhimandflunghimheadlongintothereservoirintheholdbelow.“Help,effendi!Icannotswim!”thecaptainburbledashesurfaced.“Thenyouhadbetterlearn,”Eziotoldhim,turningawaytocutattwomore
pirates,whowerealmostuponhim.Outofthecornerofhiseye,hecouldseethathisowntwosailorshadsucceededinloweringtheirbucketsonropesintothereservoirandthatnow,joinedbyahandfulmoreoftheirshipmates,similarlyequipped,theywerebeginningtogetthefireundercontrol.Butthemostferociousfightinghadmovedtotherearoftheship,andthere
theOttomansweregettingtheworstofit.EziorealizedthattheBerbershadnodesirefortheAnaantoburn,forthatwaythey’dlosetheirprize;sotheywerelettingEzio’ssailorsgetonwiththejobofdousingthefirewhiletheyconcentratedontakingtheship.Hismindmovedfast.Theywerebadlyoutnumbered,andheknewthatthe
Anaan’screw,toughmenastheywere,werenottrainedfighters.Heturnedtoastackofunlittorchesstowedunderahatchwayinthebow.Leapingoverand
seizingone,hethrustitintothedyingflamesofthefire,andonceithadtaken,hethrewitwithallhisforceacrossintothefartherofthetwoBerbershipslyingalongside.Thenheseizedanotherandrepeatedtheaction.BythetimetheBerbersaboardtheAnaanrealizedwhatwasgoingon,eachoftheirshipswaswellablaze.Itwasacalculatedrisk,butitpaidoff.Insteadoffightingforcontroloftheir
prey,andrealizingthattheircaptainwasnowheretobeseen,theypanickedandbeatawaybacktothegunwale,astheOttomans,takingheart,renewedtheirowneffortsandlaunchedacounterattack,lashingoutwithsticks,swords,hatchets,bitends,andwhateverelsecametohand.Inanotherfifteenminutes,theyhaddriventheBerbersbacktotheirownships
andcastofffromthem,cuttingthegrapplingironsfreewithaxesandusingpolestopushtheburninggalleysaway.TheOttomancaptainbarkedanumberofrapidorders,andsoontheAnaanwasclear.Onceorderhadbeenreestablished,thecrewsetaboutswabbingthedecksofbloodandstackingthebodiesofthedead.Ezioknewthatitwouldhavebeenagainsttheirreligiontocastanybodyoverboard.Hejusthopedtherestofthejourneywouldn’ttakelong.TheBerbercaptain,asoggymess,washauledfromthereservoir.Hestoodon
thedeck,abjectanddripping.“You’dbetterdisinfectthatwater,”EziosaidtotheAnaan’scaptain,asthe
piratechiefwasledawayinirons.“Wehaveenoughdrinkingwaterforourneedsinbarrels—theywilltakeusas
farasAthens,”thecaptainreplied.Thenhedrewasmallleatherpursefromthepouchathisside.“Thisisforyou,”hesaid.“Whatisit?”“I’mrefundingyourfare,”saidthecaptain.“It’stheleastIcando.Andwhen
wereachAthens,I’llseetoitthatyourfeatisspokenof.Asforyouronwardjourney,restassuredthateverythingwillbearrangedforyou.”“Weshouldn’thaverelaxed,”saidEzio.Thecaptainlookedathim.“Youareright.Perhapsoneshouldneverrelax.”“Youareright,”Ezioreplied,sadly.
FIVE
AthenshadprosperedundertheTurks,thoughashewalkedthestreetsandvisitedthemonumentsandtemplesoftheGreekGoldenAge,beingrediscoveredandreveredinhisowncountry,andsawwithhisowneyesthestatuesandbuildingsthatwereinspiringhisfriendsMichelangeloandBramanteinRome,Eziounderstoodsomethingoftheproudresentmentthatgleamedunmistakablyintheeyesofseveralofthemenandwomenofthelocalpopulation.ButhewasfêtedbyMa’Mun,theOttomancaptain’sbrother-in-law,andhisfamily,whoshoweredhimwithgiftsandurgedhimtostay.Hisstaywaslongerthanhehadwantedittobeinanycasesinceunseasonable
stormshadboiledupintheAegeannorthofSerifos,batteringtheclusterofislandstothesouthofAthensandeffectivelyclosingtheportofPiraeusforamonthormore.Neverhadsuchtempestsbeenseenatthattimeofyear.Streetprophetsinevitablymutteredabouttheendoftheworld,atopicmuchdiscussedatthetimeofthehalfmillenniumin1500.Inthemeantime,Ezio,havingnotimeforsuchthingsandonlychafingagainstthedelay,broodedoverthemapsandnoteshehadbroughtwithhimandvainlytriedtogleanintelligenceontheTemplars’movementsintheareaandintheregionsouthandeastofGreece.Atonecelebrationinhishonor,hemadetheacquaintanceofaDalmatian
princessandhadadalliancewithher,butitwasnomorethanthat,adalliance,andhisheartremainedasisolatedasithadbeenforsolong.Hehadceased,hetoldhimself,tolookforlove.Ahomeofhisown,arealhome,andafamily—theseheldnoplaceinthelifeofanAssassinMentor.Eziohadreadsomething,dimlyunderstood,ofthelifeofhisremoteforebearintheBrotherhood,AltaïrIbn-La’Ahad.Hehadpaiddearlyforhavingafamily.AndeventhoughEzio’sownfatherhadmanagedit,he,too,hadpaidabitterpriceintheend.Butatlast—nottoosoonfortheimpatientEzio—thewindsandtheseas
abatedandwerereplacedwiththefineweatherofspring.Ma’MunhadmadeallthearrangementsforhisonwardpassagetoCrete,andthesameshipwouldtakehimfarther—asfarasCyprus.Thisvesselwasawarship,afour-mastedkogge,theQutaybah,withoneofitslowerdecksarmedwithalineoftencannononeachside,andmoregunsinemplacementsinthehullforeandaft.Inadditiontolateensails,shewassquare-rigged,European-style,onthemainmastand
mizzenmast;andtherewasanoardeckbelowthecannon,thirtyoarstoaside.ChainedtooneofthemwastheBerbercaptainEziohadtangledwithonthe
Anaan.“Youwillbefreefromtheneedtodefendyourselfonthisship,effendi,”Ma’MuntoldEzio.“Iadmireit.IthassomethingoftheEuropeandesignaboutit.”“OurSultanBayezidadmiresmuchthatisgraciousandusefulinyour
culture,”repliedMa’Mun.“Wecanlearnmuchfromeachotherifwetry.”Ezionodded.“TheQutaybahcarriesourAthensenvoytoaconferenceatNicosia,andwill
dockatLarnakaintwentydays.ThecaptainstopsatHerakliononlytotakeonwaterandsupplies.”Hepaused.“AndIhavesomethingforyou...”Theywereseated,drinkingsharbat,inMa’Mun’sofficeintheport.TheTurk
nowturnedtoahugeiron-boundchestthatstoodagainstthefarwall,takingfromitamap.“Thisisprecious,asallmapsare,butitisaspecialgiftfrommetoyou.ItisamapofCyprusdrawnupbyPiriReishimself.Youwillhavetimethere—”HehelduphishandsasEziobegantoobject,aspolitelyashecould.Thefarthereastyoutraveled,thelessurgencythereseemedtobeabouttime.“Iknow!IamawareofyourimpatiencetoreachSyria,butthekoggewillonlytakeyousofar,andwemustarrangeyouronwardtransportfromLarnaka.Fearnot.YousavedtheAnaan.Wewillbesuitablygratefulforthatact.Noonewillgetyoutoyourdestinationfasterthanwe.”Eziounrolledthemapandexaminedit.Itwasafine,detailedwork.He
thoughtthatifhewasindeedobligedtospendtimeonthatisland,heknewfromclueshehadalreadypickedupinhisfather’sarchivesthatCypruswasnotwithoutinteresttotheAssassins,inthehistoryoftheireternalstrugglewiththeTemplars,andthatitcouldwellbethattherehewouldfindcluesthatmighthelphim.HewouldmakegooduseofhistimeatCyprus,buthehopedhewouldnot
havetotarrytherelong,effectivelycontrolledasitwasbytheTemplars,whateverappearancesmightbetothecontrary.Butitwastobealongerjourneythananyonemighthaveanticipated.Hardly
hadtheysetsailfromCreteaftertheirbrieflandingatHeraklion—amatterofnomorethanthreedays—thanthewindsbegantorageagain.Southerlythistime,fierceandwarmstillfromtheirlongjourneyoutofNorthAfrica.TheQutayahbattledthembravely,butbydegreesshewasbeatenbacknorthuptheAegean,fightingherretreatthroughthetangleofislandsoftheDodecanese.Itwasaweekbeforethestormsabated,notbeforeclaimingthelivesoffivemarinersandanuncountednumberofgalleyprisoners,whodrownedattheiroars.Atlast,theshipputintoChiosforarefit.Eziodriedhisgearandcleanedhisequipmentofanyrust.Themetalofhisspecialweaponshadnevershowntheleastsignoftarnishinalltheyearshehadhadthem.Oneofthemanymysteriouspropertiestheyhad,whichLeonardohadattemptedtoexplaintohiminvain.ThreepreciousmonthshadbeenlostbeforetheQutaybahatlastlimpedinto
theharborofLarnaka.Theenvoy,who’dlosttwentypoundsonthevoyage,throughseasicknessandvomiting,andwho’dlongsincemissedhisconference,madeimmediatearrangementstotravelbacktoAthensbythemostdirectroute,travelingoverlandasfarashecould.EziowastednotimeinlookinguptheLarnakaagent,Bekir,whosename
Ma’Munhadgivenhim.Bekirwaswelcomingandevendeferential.EzioAuditoredaFirenze.Thefamousrescuerofships!HewasalreadythetalkofLarnaka.Auditoreeffendi’snamewasoneverylip.Ah—thequestionofpassagetoTortosa.ThenearestmainlandporttoMasyaf.InSyria.Yes,yesofcourse.Arrangementswillbeplacedinhandimmediately—thisveryday!Iftheeffendiwillbepatient,whilethenecessarywheelsaresetinmotion...Thebestpossibleaccommodationswillbeathisdisposal...ThelodgingsarrangedforEziowereindeedsplendid—alarge,lightapartmentinamansionbuiltonalowhillabovethetown,overlookingitandthecrystalseabeyond.Butaftertoomuchtimehadpassed,hispatiencegrewthin.“ItistheVenetians,”explainedtheagent.“TheytolerateanOttomanpresence
here,butonlyinacivilsense.Themilitaryauthoritiesare,regrettably,waryofus.Ifeelthat”—themanloweredhisvoice—“wereitnotforthereputationofoursultan,Bayezid,whoseauthoritystretchesfarandwhosepowerismighty,wemightnotbetoleratedatall.”Hebrightened:“Perhapsyoucouldhelpinyourowncause,effendi.”“Inwhatway?”
“Ithought,perhaps,thatasaVenetianyourself...”Eziobithislip.
Buthewasnotamantolettimehangidly.Whilehewaited,hestudiedPiriReis’smap,andsomethingdrewhim,somethinghalf-rememberedthathehadread,tohireahorseandridedownthecoasttoLimassol.Oncethere,hefoundhimselfwanderingthroughthemotteandbaileyofthe
desertedcastleofGuydeLusig-nan,builtduringtheCrusadesbutcurrentlyneglected,likesomeonce-usefultoolwhoseownerhasforgottentothrowitaway.Ashewalkedthroughitsempty,draftycorridorsandlookedatthewildflowersgrowinginitscourtyards,andthebuddleiathatclungtoitscrumblingramparts,memories—atleast,theyseemedtobememories—promptedhimtoexploremoredeeply,todelveintothebowelsofthekeepandexplorethevaultsbeneathit.There,shroudedincrepusculargloom,hefoundthedesolateandempty
remainsofwhathadundoubtedlyoncebeenavastarchive.Hislonelyfootfallsechoedinthedarklabyrinthofrotting,emptyshelving.Theonlyoccupantswerescuttlingrats,whoseeyesglintedsuspiciouslyathim
fromdarkcornersastheyscurriedaway,givinghimslanting,evillooks.Andtheycouldtellhimnothing.Hemadeasthoroughasearchashecould,butnotaclueofwhathadbeenthereremained.Disheartened,hereturnedtothesunshine.Thepresenceofalibrarythere
remindedhimofthelibraryhesought.Somethingwaspromptinghimthoughhecouldnotputhisfingeronwhatitwas.Stubbornly,heremainedatthecastletwodays.Townspeoplelookedoddlyatthedark,grizzledstrangerwhoroamedtheirruin.ThenEzioremembered.Threecenturiesearlier,Cyprushadbeentheproperty
oftheTemplars.
SIX
TheVenetianauthorities—orsomeonebehindthem—wereclearlyblockinghisonwardpassage.Thisbecamecleartohimassoonashehadconfrontedthem.FlorentinesandVenetiansmighthavebeenrivals,mighthavelookeddownononeanother,buttheysharedthesamecountryandthesamelanguage.Thatcutnoiceatallwiththegovernorthere.DomenicoGarofoliwaslikea
pencil—long,thin,andgrey.Hisblackrobes,exquisitelycutinthemostcostlydamask,neverthelesshungfromhimlikeragsfromascarecrow.Theheavygoldrings,setwithrubiesandpearls,clatteredlooselyonhisbonyfingers.Hislipsweresonarrowthatyoucouldhardlysaytheywerethereatall,andwhenhismouthwasclosed,youcouldnotseewhereitwasinhisface.Hewas,ofcourse,unfailinglypolite—Ezio’sactionhaddonemuchtowarm
Ottoman-Venetianrelationsintheregion—buthewasclearlyunwillingtodoanything.Thesituationonthemainlandeastward—beyondthecoastaltownsthatclungtotheshoreoftheMediterraneanlikethefingertipsofamanhangingfromaprecipice—wasfraughtwithdanger.TheOttomanpresenceinSyriawasmighty,andfurtherOttomanambitionswestwardmuchfeared.Anymissionnotsanctionedbyofficialdiplomacycouldtriggeraninternationalincidentofthemostdireproportions.That,atleast,wasGarofoli’sexcuse.TherewasnowayEziowasgoingtofindalliesamonghiscountrymenon
Crete.Eziolistened,andlistened,sittingpolitely,withhishandsonhisknees,asthe
governordronedoninadesiccatedvoice.Anddecidedtotakemattersintohisownhands.Thatveryevening,hemadehisfirstreconnaissanceofthedocks.Therewereshipsaplentymooredthere,dhowsfromArabyandNorthAfricabumpingagainstVenetianroccafortes,galleys,andcaravels.ADutchfluytlookedpromising,andthereweremenworkingaboard,loadingthickbalesofsilkunderanarmedguard.ButonceEziohadrecognizedthecargo,heknewthatthefluytwouldbehomewardbound,notoutward,andheneededashipsailingeast.
Hewanderedfarther,keepingtotheshadows,adarkformstillaslitheandfluidasacat.Buthissearchyieldedhimnothing.Severaldaysandnightspassedinreconnoitering.Healwaystookallhis
essentialequipmentwithhim,incasehestruckitluckyandcouldgetawaythereandthen.Buteachforayendedwiththesameresult.Ezio’snotorietyhadmarkedhim,andhehadtogotosomelengthstokeephisidentitysecret;butevenwhenhesucceeded,hefoundthatnoship’smasterwasheadedinpreciselythedirectionhewanted,orthattheywere—forsomereason—unwillingtotakehim,nomatterhowbigthebribeoffered.HeconsideredreturningtoBekirbutresistedthisintheend.Bekiralreadyknewtoomuchabouthisintentions.Thefifthnightfoundhimagainatthedocks.Fewershipsbythen,andapart
fromtheNightWatchmenandtheircrews,whopassedseldom,theirlanternsswingingonlongpolesandtheirswordsortruncheonsalwaysattheready,nooneelsewasabout.Eziomadehiswaytothemostdistantquaysides,wheresmallervesselsweretiedup.Thedistancetothemainlandwasnotthatgreat.Perhapsifhecould...acquire...someboatofhisown,hemightbeabletosailtheseventy-fiveleaguesorsoalone.Cautiously,hesetfootonawoodenjetty,itsblackboardsshinywithseawater,
alongwhichfivesmallsingle-saildhowswereranked,fishingboatsfromthesmellofthem,butsturdy,andtwoofthemhadalltheirgearstowedaboard,asfarasEziocouldsee.Thenthehairsonthebackofhisneckprickled.Toolate.BeforeEziohadtimetoturn,hewasknockedflatonhisfacebythe
forceoftheweightofthemanwho’dthrownhimselfonhim.Bigman,thatmuchEziocouldsense.Verybig.HewaspinningEziodownbythesizeofhisbodyalone;itwaslikestrugglingunderamassive,musculareiderdown.Eziowrenchedhisrighthandfreesothathecouldunleashhishidden-blade,buthiswristwasinstantlygraspedinagripofiron.Henoticedoutofthecornerofhiseyethatthehandthatheldhiswristwascuffedwithamanaclefromwhichtwobrokenchainlinksdangled.Gatheringhisstrength,Eziotwistedviolentlyandsuddenlytohisleft,digging
hisleftelbowhardintoapartoftheeiderdownthathehopedwastender.Hewasfortunate.Themanpinioninghimgruntedinpainandrelaxedhisholdafraction.Itwasenough.Followingthrough,Ezioheavedwithhisleftshoulderandmanagedtorollthebodyoffhisown.Likelightning,hewasupononeknee,hislefthandontheman’sthroat,hisrightpoisedtostrike.Ezio’smomentoftriumphwasshort.Themanknockedhisrighthandaway,
theironmanacleontheman’slefthand,similarlyadornedwithacoupleofchainlinks,strikingEzio’swristpainfullydespitetheprotectionofthehidden-blade’sharness,andEziofoundhisleftwristnowcaughtinanotherviselikegrip,whichslowlybutinexorablyforcedhisholdontheman’sthroattoweaken.Theyrolledover,eachtryingtogetthebetteroftheother,puttinginblows
wheretheycould,butalthoughhisassailantwasbulky,hewasquick,andEzio’sbladeneverfoundamark.Atlasttheyseparatedandstood,grunting,outofbreath,hunched,facingeachother.Themanwasunarmed,buttheironmanaclescoulddoalotofdamageusedasweapons.Then,fromashortdistanceaway,therewasaflashoflightfromalanternand
acry.“TheWatch!”saidtheman.“Down!”Instinctively,Eziofollowedthebigman’sleadastheydivedintothenearest
dhow,flatteningthemselvesinitsbottom.Ezio’smindwasracing.Intheflashoflightfromthelantern,hehadseentheman’sfaceandrecognizedhim.Howcoulditbe?Buttherewasnotimetoworryaboutthat.Theycouldhearthefootfallsofthe
Watchscurryingtowardthejetty.“Theysawus,mayAllahblindthem,”saidtheman.“Betterseetothem.You
ready?”Astonished,Ezionoddedmutelyinthedark.“I’llfinishyouoffoncewe’veseentothem,”themanadded.“Iwouldn’tbetonit.”TherewasnotimeforanymoretalkasthefivemenoftheWatchwere
alreadyuponthem.Fortunately,theyhesitatedbeforethrowingthemselvesdownintothedarkwelloftheboat,whereEzioandhisunlikelyallynowstood,andcontentedthemselveswithstandingonthejetty,wavingtheirweaponsandyellingthreats.Thebigmanregardedthem.“Easymeat,”hesaid.“Butwe’dbettertakethem
now,beforetheyattracttoomuchattention.”Inreply,Eziobracedhimself,crouched,andleaptuptothejetty,catchingits
edgeandhaulinghimselfontoitinone—thesedays—not-quite-fluidmovement.Inthemomentittookhimtocatchhisbreath,threeoftheWatchwereuponhim,bludgeoninghimtothegroundwithheavytruncheons,whileafourthmanapproached,swirlingashortbutwicked-lookingsword.Heraiseditforthecoupdegrace,butinthatinstanthewasliftedbodilybythescruffoftheneckfrombehindandhurled,howling,backwardandupward,tolandwithasickening
crashalongwayfartherdownthejetty,wherehelaymoaning,severalofhisbonesbroken.AtthemomentthatEzio’sthreeotherattackersweredistractedbythis,Ezio
sprangtohisfeetandsnappedouthishidden-blade,slicingdowntwoofthemintwoquick,efficientstrokes.Meanwhile,thebigmanwasstrugglingwiththelampholder,anothergiant,whohadthrownhispoleasideanddrawnamassiveDamascus,whichhewavedthreateninglyovertheheadofhisopponent,whoheldhiminawrestler’sbodygrip.Eziocouldseethatatanymomentthethickbladewouldcomedownsquareintothebroadbackofthebigman.Hecursedhimselffornothavingstrappedonhisgun,butitwastoolateforthat.Hegrabbedafallentruncheonand,shovingtheremainingwatchmanasidewithhiselbow,hurleditattheheadofthelanternman.Hisaimhad—thankGod!—beentrue.Thetruncheonstruckthelanternman
squarebetweentheeyesandhestaggeredback,fallingtohisknees.ThenEziofeltasharppaininhisside.ThesurvivingmemberoftheWatchhaddrawnadaggerandstabbedhim.Hesank,andbeforehisworldwentblack,hesawthebigmanrunningtowardhim.
SEVEN
WhenEziocameto,hewaslyingonhisbacksomewhere,andtheworldwasrockingbeneathhim.Notviolently,butsteadily.Itwasalmostcomforting.Hestayedwherehewasforamoment,eyesstillclosed,feelingabreezeonhisface,notquitewantingtocomebacktowhateverrealitywaswaitingtoconfronthim,smellingtheseaair.Theseaair?Heopenedhiseyes.Thesunwasup,andhecouldseeanunbrokenexpanseof
bluesky.Thenadarkshapecamebetweentheskyandhim.Aheadandshoulders.Aconcernedface,lookingdownathim.“You’reback.Good,”saidthebigman.Eziostartedtositup,andashedidsothepainfromhiswoundhithim.He
groanedandputahandtohisside.Hefeltbandages.“Fleshwound.Nottoodeep.Nothingtomakeafussabout.”Ezioraisedhimself.Hisnextthoughtwasforhiskit.Helookedaround
swiftly.Thereitwas,neatlystashedinhisleatherbag,anditlookeduntouched.“Wherearewe?”heasked.“Wheredoyouthink?Atsea.”Painfully,Eziostoodandlookedabouthim.Theywereinoneofthefishing
dhows,cuttingsteadilythroughthewater,thesailabovehisheadfatwithwind.Heturned,andcouldseeLarnaka,aspeckonthecoastlineofCyprus,onthedistanthorizonbehindthem.“Whathappened?”“Yousavedmylife.Isavedyours.”“Why?”“It’stheLaw.Pitythough.Afterwhatyoudidtome,youhaditcoming.”Themanhadhadhisbacktohim,workingthetiller,butnowheturnedto
Ezio.ForthefirsttimeEziohadagoodlookathisfaceandrecognizedhiminstantly.“Youwreckedmyships,curseyou.I’dbeenstalkingtheAnaanfordays.That
prizewouldhavetakenmebacktoEgyptarichman.Instead,thankstoyou,theymadeagalleyslaveofme.Me!”Thebigmanwasindignant.“Egypt?You’renotaBerberthen?”
“Berberbedamned.I’maMamlukthoughImaynotlooklikeonedressedintheserags.Soonaswegetthere,I’mtreatingmyselftoawoman,adecentplateofkofta,andagoodsuitofclothes.”Eziolookedaroundhimagain,stumblingthenregaininghisbalanceasan
unexpectedwavechoppedaslantthebow.“Notmuchofaseaman,areyou?”“Gondolasaremoremyline.”“Gondolas?Pah!”“Ifyouwantedtokillme—”“Canyoublameme?ItwastheonlyreasonIhungaroundinthatcesspoolof
aVenetianportafterI’descaped.Icouldn’tbelievemyluckwhenIsawyou.I’dalmostgivenup—Iwaslookingforawayoutmyself,downthere.”Eziogrinned.“Idon’tblameyou.”“Youchuckedmeinatankandleftmetodrown!”“Youcouldswimwellenough.Anyfoolcouldseethat.”Itwasthebigman’sturntogrin.“Ah!ImighthaveknownIcouldn’tappeal
toyourcompassionbypretendingthatIcouldn’t.”“Yourepaidyourdebttome,yousavedmylife.Butwhydidyoubringme
withyou?”Thebigmanspreadhishands.“Youwerewounded.IfI’dleftyou,they’d
havecomeforyou,youwouldn’thavelastedthenight.Andwhatawasteofmyeffortthatwouldhavebeen.Besides,youcanmakeyourselfusefulonthistub,landlubberthoughyouare.”“Icanlookaftermyself.”Thebigman’seyesgrewserious.“Iknowyoucan,effendi.MaybeIjust
wantedyourcompany—EzioAuditore.”‘Youknowmyname.”“You’refamous.Vanquisherofpirates.Notthatthatwouldhavesavedyou
afterkillingateamofwatchmenandtryingtoescape.”Eziothoughtaboutthat.Thenhesaid,“Whatdotheycallyou?”Thebigmandrewhimselfup.Hisdignitybeliedthegalleyslave’sragshestill
wore.“IamAl-Scarab,scourgeoftheWhiteSea.”“Oh,”saidEziowryly.“Pardonme.”“Temporarilyonmybackfoot,”Al-Scarabaddedruefully.“Butnotforlong.
Whenwegetthere,I’llhaveanewshipandcrewwithinaweek.”“Whenwegetwhere?”“Didn’tItellyou?Thenearestportworthanything,that’salsoinMamluk
hands—Acre.”
EIGHT
Thetimehadcome.Itwashardtoleave,buthismissionwasimperative,anditcalledEzio
urgentlyonward.HistimeinAcrehadbeenoneofrestandrecuperation,forcinghimselftobepatientashiswoundhealed,forheknewhisquestwouldcometonothingofhewerenotfullyfitforit.AndmeetingAl-Scarab,disastrousasitwouldhavebeenifthingshadgonedifferently,hadshownhimthatifanyguardianangelexisted,hehadone.Thebigpirate,whomhehadbestedinthebattleaboardtheAnaan,had
provedhimselftobemorethanjustalifesaver.Al-ScarabhadextendedfamilyinAcre,andtheywelcomedEzioastherescueroftheircousinandashisbrother-in-arms.Al-ScarabsaidnothingofhisdefeatintheAnaanincidentandenjoinedEzioonpainofunmentionableretributiontofollowsuit.ButtheescapefromLarnakawasboostedintoafightofepicproportions.“Therewerefiftyofthem...”Al-Scarabwouldstarthisstory,andthe
numberofperfidiousVenetianassailantsthey’dbeenobligedtofightoffhadreachedtentimesthatnumberbyhistenthtellingofthetale.Openmouthedandwide-eyed,hiscousinslistenedspellbound,andneverbreathedawordaboutanyoftheinconsistenciesthatcreptin.Atleasthedidn’tthrowinaseamonster,Eziothought,drily.OnethingthatwasnotinventionwerethewarningsthatcamefromAl-
Scarab’sfamilyofthedangersEziowouldhavetobepreparedforinhisonwardjourney.Theytriedhardtopersuadehimtotakeanarmedescortwithhim,butthisEziosteadfastlydeclinedtodo.Hewouldridehisownroad.Hewouldnotsubjectotherstotheperilsheknewhemustface.SoonafterhisarrivalatAcre,Eziotooktheopportunitytowritealong-overduelettertohissister.Hechosehiswordswithcare,consciousthatthismightbethelasttimehewouldevercommunicatewithher.
AcrexxnovembreMDX
MydearestsisterClaudia—IhavebeeninAcreaweeknow,safeandinhighspirits,butpreparedfortheworst.ThemenandwomenwhohavefedandshelteredmeherealsogivemewarningthattheroadtoMasyafisoverrunbymercenariesandbanditsnotnativetothisland.Whatthiscouldmean,Ifeartoguess.WhenIfirstsetoutfromRomatenmonthsago,Ididsowithasinglepurpose:
todiscoverwhatourfathercouldnot.Intheletteryouknowof,writtentheyearbeforemybirth,hemakesasinglementionofalibraryhiddenbeneaththefloorsofAltaïr’sformercastle.Asanctumfullofinvaluablewisdom.ButwhatwillIfindwhenIarrive?Whowillgreetme?Ahostofeager
Templars,asIfearmoststrongly?Ornothingbutthewhistlingofacoldandlonelywind?MasyafhasnotbeenhometotheAssassinsforalmostthreehundredyearsnow.Doesitrememberus?Arewestillwelcome?Ah,Iamwearyofthisfight,Claudia...WearynotbecauseIamtiredbut
becauseourstruggleseemstomoveinonedirectiononly...towardchaos.TodayIhavemorequestionsthananswers.ThatiswhyIhavecomesofar:tofindclarity.TofindthewisdomleftbehindbytheGreatMentor,sothatImaybetterunderstandthepurposeofourfightandmyplaceinit.Shouldanythinghappentome,dearClaudia...shouldmyskillsfailme,or
myambitionleadmeastray,donotseekrevengeorretributioninmymemorybutfighttocontinuethesearchfortruth,sothatallmaybenefit.Mystoryisoneofmanythousands,andtheworldwillsufferifitendstoosoon.
Yourbrother,EzioAuditoredaFirenze
Al-Scarab,inthecourseoffittingoutforhisownnewventures,hadalsoseentoitthatEziohadtheattentionofthebestdoctors,thebesttailors,thebestchefs,andthebestwomenAcrecouldprovide.Hisbladeswerehonedandsharpened,hiskitwasfullycleaned,repaired,replacedwherenecessary,andthoroughlyoverhauled.AsthedayapproachedforEziotoleave,Al-Scarabpresentedhimwithtwo
finehorses—“Apresentfrommyuncle—hebreedsthem—butIdon’thavemuchusefortheminmytrade”—toughlittleArabs,withsoftleathertackandonefine,high-ended,tooledsaddle.Eziocontinuedtorefuseanyescortbutacceptedsuppliesforhisjourney,whichfromnowonwouldcarryhimoverland,throughwhathadonce,longago,beentheCrusaderKingdomofJerusalem.
Andnowthetimeofpartinghadcome.Thelastleginalongjourney,andwhetheritwoulditbecompletedornot,Eziohadnowayoftelling.Butforhimtherewasonlythejourney.Ithadtobemade.Oldmenoughttobeexplorers.Atitsend,hewouldsee.“GowithyourGod,Ezio.”“Barakallahfeek,myfriend,”Ezioreplied,takingthebigpirate’shand.“We’llmeetagain.”“Yes.”Bothmenwonderedintheirheartsiftheyweretellingthetruth,butthewords
comfortedthem.Itdidn’tmatter.Theylookedeachotherintheeyeandknewthatintheirdifferentwaystheywerepartofthesamefellowship.Eziomountedthelargerofthetwohorses,thebay,andturnedherhead
around.Withoutabackwardglance,heheadedoutofthecity,north.
NINE
Masyafwastwohundredmiles—asthecrowflies—awayfromAcre.Theseeminglygentledesertlandthatlaybetweenthetwopointswasveryfarfromgentleinfact.ThegreatOttomanoutwardthrustfromitsoriginalcorehadbeengoingonrelentlesslyfortwohundredyears,andhadculminatedinthetakingofConstantinoplebythetwenty-year-oldSultanMehmedIIin1453.ButstilltheTurkishtentaclesextended,reachingwestwardasfarasBulgariaandbeyond,andsouthandeastintoSyriaandwhathadoncebeentheHolyLand.TheeasterncoastalstripoftheWhiteSea,withitsvitalportsanditsaccessbywaterwestward,wasajewelinthecrown,andtheOttomangriponitwasasyetfragile.Eziowasundernoillusionsaboutwhatbattleshewouldhavetofaceashemadehislonelywaynorth.Hefollowedthecoastformostoftheway,keepingthesparklingseainviewtohisleft,ridingthehighcliffsandthetatteredscrublandsthattoppedthem,travelinginthehoursofdawnanddusk,hidingforfourhourswhenthesunwasatitshighestandrestingagainforfourhoursatnightunderthestars.Travelingalonehaditsadvantages.Hecouldblendinfarmoreeasilythan
wouldhavebeenpossibleifhe’dhadanescort,andhiskeeneyesdiscerneddangerpointsaheadwellenoughinadvanceeithertoskirtthemorwaituntiltheyhadpassed.Thiswasbanditcountry,wherehalf-disciplinedgangsofunemployedmercenariesroamed,killingtravelersandeachotherforwhattheycouldget,surviving,asitseemedtoEzio,merelyforthesakeofit,inacountrysidestillreelingintheaftermathofcenturiesofwar.Menturnedferalandnolongerthinking,nolongerhopingorfearing;menwhohadlostanysenseofconscience.Ruthlessandreckless,andascallousastheywereremorseless.Fightstherewere,whentheycouldnotbeavoided,andeveryoneofthem
pointless,leavingafewmoredeadforthevulturesandthecrows,whichweretheonlycreaturestrulytothriveinthiswastelandforgottenofGod.Once,Eziosavedafrightenedvillagefrommarauders,andonce,awomanfromtorture,rape,anddeath.Butforhowlong?Andwhatwouldbecomeofthemafterhehadpassedby?HewasnotGod,hecouldnotbeeverywhere;andhere,whereonceChristhadtrodden,GodshowednoevidenceoflookingafterHisown.Thefarthernorthherode,theheavierEzio’sheartbecame.Onlythefireofthe
questkepthimonthepath.Buthetiedbrushwoodtohishorses’tailstoeradicatehistracksashepassed,andatnight,hespreadbranchesofthorntoreston,sothathewouldneverquitesleep.Eternalvigilancewasnotonlythepriceoffreedombutofsurvival.Thoughthepassingyearsmighthaverobbedhimofsomeofhisstrength,thatwascompensatedforbyexperience,andthefruitofthetrainingwhichhadbeendrummedintohimbyPaolaandMariosolongagoinFlorenceandMonteriggionihadneverrotted.ThoughEziosometimesfeltthathecouldn’tgoon,thathewouldn’tgoon,hewenton.Twohundredmilesasthecrowflies.Butthiswasaharshwinter,andthere
weremanydetoursanddelaysalongtheroad.Finally,Eziosawthemountainsrearingaheadofhim.Hedrewinadeepbreathofcoldair.Masyafwasnear.
Threeweekslater,onfoot,bothhorsesdeadinthefrozenpassesbehindhim,andonhisconscience,fortheyhadbeenmorestalwartandloyalcompanionsthanmanymen,Eziostoodinsightofhisgoal.Aneaglesoared,highinthehard,clearsky.Ezio,batteredfromtheroad,drewhiseyesfromit,pulledhimselfupandover
alow,roughwall,andstoodmotionlessforamoment,scanningthescenewithkeeneyes.Masyaf.Aftermanywearymonthsonthejourney.Andsuchalongjourney—
thewaysdeepandtheweathersharp.Crouching,justincase,andkeepingstillasheinstinctivelycheckedhis
weapons,Eziokeptwatching.Anysignofmovement.Any.Notasoulonthebattlements.Scudsofsnowtwistinginacuttingwind.But
nosignofaman.Theplaceseemeddeserted.Ashe’dexpectedfromwhathe’dreadofit.Butlifehadtaughthimthatitwasalwaysbesttomakesure.Hestayedstill.Notasoundbutthewind.Then—something.Ascraping?Tohisleftaheadof
himahandfulofpebblesskittereddownabareincline.Hetensed,roseslightly,headupbetweenduckedshoulders.Thenthearrow,comingfromnowhere,whackedintohisrightshoulder,throughthebodyarmorthere.
TEN
Thedawnwascoldandgrey.Initsstillness,Eziorousedhimselffromhismemoriesandsnappedallhisconcentrationtothepresentastheheardthefootfallofguards’bootsontheflagstonesofthecastle,approachinghiscell.Thiswasthemoment.He’dpretendtobeweak,andthatwasn’ttoohardathingtodo.Hewas
thirstierthanhe’dbeeninalongtime,andhungrier,butthebeakerandthefoodstillstooduntouchedonthetable.Helayonthefloorfacedown,hishoodpulledlowoverhisface.Heheardthedoorofhiscellcrashopen,andthemencamein.Theyreached
underhisshouldersandhalfliftedhim,dragginghimoutandalongthebaregreystonecorridoroutside.Lookingdownatthefloorashewasdraggedoverit,Eziosawmarkedonit,laidoutinadarkerstone,thegreatsymboloftheAssassins,theirinsigniasincetimeimmemorial.Thecorridorgavewayatlengthtoawiderspace,akindofhall,openonone
side.Eziofeltkeenfreshaironhisface,anditrevivedhim.Heraisedhisheadslightlyandsawthatbeyondhimthereweretallopeningsdemarcatedbynarrowcolumns,andbeyondthemawide-openviewofthepitilessmountains.Theywerestillhighinthetower.Theypulledhimtohisfeet,andheshookhimselffreeofthem.Theystood
backslightly,halberdsattheready,loweredbutpointingathim.Facinghim,hisbacktothevoid,stoodthecaptainofthedaybefore.Heheldanooseinhishand.“Youareatenaciousman,Ezio,”thecaptainsaid.“Tocomeallthiswayfora
glimpseinsideAltaïr’scastle.Itshowsheart.”Hegesturedtohismentostandfartherback,leavingEziostandingalone.
Thenhewenton:“Butyou’reanoldhoundnow.Bettertoputyououtofyourmiserythanseeyouwhimpertoasadend.”Ezioturnedslightlytoaddressthemandirectly.Thattinymovement,henoted
tohissatisfaction,wasenoughtomakethehalberdiersflinchandsteadytheirweaponsonhim.“AnylastwordsbeforeIkillyou?”Eziosaid.Thecaptainwasmadeofsternerstuffthanhismen.Hestoodfirm.He
laughed.“Iwonderhowlongitwilltakeforthebuzzardstopickyourbonesclean,asyourbodydanglesfromtheseparapets?”“There’saneagleuptheresomewhere.He’llkeepthebuzzardsaway.”“Alotofgoodthat’lldoyou.Comeforward.Orareyouafraidtodie?You
wouldn’twanttohavetobedraggedtoyourdeath,wouldyou?”Eziomovedforwardslowly,everysensetaut.“That’sgood,”saidthecaptain,andEzioimmediatelysensedhisslight
relaxation.Didthemanreallythinkhewasgivingin?Washethatvain?Thatstupid?Ifso,allthebetter.Butperhaps,afterall,thisuglyman,whosmelledofsweatandcookedmeat,wasright.Themomentofdeathhadtocomesometime.Beyondthewidewindowbetweenthecolumns,anarrowwoodenplatform
projectedoverthevoid,perhapstenfeetlongandfourwide,constructedofsixroughplanks.Itlookedancientandunsafe.Thecaptainbowedinanironicgestureofinvitation.Eziosteppedforwardagain,waitingforhismoment,butatthesametimewonderingifitwouldcome.Theplankscreakedominouslyunderhisweight,andtheairwascoldaround
him.Helookedattheskyandthemountains.Thenhesawtheeaglecoasting,fiftyoronehundredfeetbelowhim,itswhitepinionsspread,andsomehowthatgavehimhope.Thensomethingelsehappened.Eziohadnoticedanothersimilarplatform,projectingfromthetoweratthe
samelevelsomefifteenfeettohisright.Andnow,onit,alone,walkingfearlesslyforward,wastheyoungcowledmaninwhitehehadglimpsedinthebattle.AsEziowatched,hisbreathsuspended,themanseemedtobeturningtowardhim,tobemakingthebeginningofagesture...Andthen,again,thevisionfaded,andtherewasnothingbutthewindandthe
occasionalscatterofgustingsnow.Eventheeaglehaddisappearedfromsight.Thecaptainapproached,nooseinhand.Eziofleetinglynoticedthattherewas
plentyofslackintheropethattrailedbehindit.“NoeagleherethatIcansee,”saidthecaptain.“Iwagerit’lltakethebuzzards
nomorethanthreedays.”“I’llletyouknow,”Ezioreplied,evenly.Aknotofguardshadcomeupbehindthecaptain,butitwasthecaptain
himself,nowstandingclosebehindEzio,whopulleddownhishood,slippedthenooseoverhishead,andpulledittightaroundhisneck.“Now!”saidthecaptain.Now!
Attheverymomentthathefeltcaptain’shandsonhisshoulders,readytoshovehimintooblivion,Ezioraisedhisrightarm,crookedit,anddrovehiselbowviolentlybackward.Asthecaptainfellbackwithacry,stumblingintohiscompanions,Eziostoopedandtookuptheslackoftheropewhereitstilllayontheplanking,and,dodgingbetweenthethreemen,spunroundandloopedtheslackroundthestumblingcaptain’sneck.Thenhehimselfleaptfromtheplatformintothevoid.Thecaptainhadtriedtorecoil,buttoolate.Hewasslammedtotheplanks
undertheimpactofEzio’sweightashefell,andtheplanksshudderedashisheadstruckthem.Theropesnappedtaut,allbutbreakingthecaptain’sneckasitdidso.Turningblue,hishandswenttohisneckashekickedandstruggledagainstdeath.Utteringalltheoathstheyknew,theguardsdrewtheirswordsandmoved
forwardfast,hackingattheropetofreetheirofficer.Whentheropewascut,theaccursedEzioAuditorewouldplummettohisdeathontherocksfivehundredfeetbelow,andaslongashewasdead,whatdidthemannerofitmatter?Attherope’send,twirlinginspace,Ezioalreadyhadbothhandsbetweenthe
nooseandhisneck,strainingtokeepitfromcuttingintohiswindpipe.Butashedidsohewasalreadyscanningthescenebelowhim.Hewasdanglingclosetothewalls.Therehadtobesomethinghecouldcatchtobreakhisfall.Butiftherewasn’t,thiswasabetterwaytomeetdeaththangoingtoitmeekly.Above,onthedangerouslyswayingplatform,theguardsatlastsucceededin
severingtherope,whichbynowwasdrawingbloodfromthecaptain’sneck.AndEziofoundhimselffalling,falling...Butatthemomenthefelttheropegoloose,heswunghisbodyclosertothe
wallsofthecastle.MasyafwasbuiltforAssassinsbyAssassins.Itwouldnotforsakehim.Andhehadseenapieceofbrokenscaffoldingprojectingfromthewallfifty
feetbelow.Heguidedhisbodytowarditasheplummeteddownward.Hecaughtit,wincinginpainashisarmwaswrenchedalmostfreeofitssocket.Butthescaffoldingheld,andheheldand,grindinghisteethwitheffort,hauledhimselfupuntilhecouldgetagripwithbothhands.Butitwasn’toveryet.Theguardsabove,leaningout,hadseenwhathad
happened,andbegantolayholdofanythingtheycouldtothrowdownanddislodgehim.Rocksandstonesandjaggedpiecesofbrokenwoodhailedonhim.Eziolookedarounddesperately.Overtohisleft,anescarpmentranuptothe
wall,reachingitperhapstwentyfeetawayfromwherehewas.Ifhecouldswingfromthescaffoldingandgainenoughmomentumtothrowhimselfacrossthatdistance,therewasafaintchancethathecouldrolldowntheescarpment,atthefootofwhichhecouldseetheedgeofaclifftop,fromwhichacrumblingstonebridgestretchedoverachasm,towhereanarrowpathclungtothesideofthemountainopposite.Duckingundertherainofdebrisfromabove,Eziostartedtoswingbackward
andforward,hishandsslippingontheice-smoothwoodofthescaffolding;buttheyheld,andhesoonbuiltupimpetus.Themomentcamewhenhefelthejustcouldn’tholdonanymore,he’dhave
toriskit,andhesummonedallhisenergyintoonelastpowerfulbackswing,hurlinghimselfintospaceashisbodymovedforwardagain,andspreadeagledhimselfintheairasheflewtowardtheescarpment.Helandedheavily,badly,anditwindedhim.Beforehehadtimetorecoverhis
balance,hewastumblingdowntheslope,bouncingofftheroughgroundbutgraduallyabletoguidehisbatteredbodyinthegeneraldirectionofthebridge.Heknewthiswasvital,forifhedidnotendatexactlytherightspot,hewouldbehurledoverthecliff’sedgeintoGodknewwhatvoidbeneath.Andhewasgoingtoofast.Hehadnocontroloverhisspeed.Buthekepthisnervesomehow,and,atlast,hewasthrowntotheground—ten
feetontothetremblingbridgeitself.Asuddenthoughtstruckhim:Howoldwasthisbridge?Itwasnarrow,single-
span,andfar,farbelow,Eziocouldhearthecrashingofangrywateroverrocks,invisibleinthedepthsoftheblackchasmbeneath.Theshockofhisweightthrownuponithadshakenthebridge.Howlongwas
itsinceanyonehadcrossedit?Itsstoneworkwasalreadycrumbling,weakenedwithage,itsmortarrotted;and,ashegottohisfeet,tohishorrorhesawacracksnapopenrightacrossitswidthnotfivefeetbehindhim.Thecracksoonwidened,andthemasonryoneithersideofitbegantofall,tumblingcrazilydownintothedarkabyss.AsEziowatched,timeitselfseemedtoslowdown.Therewasnolongerany
retreat.Herealizedimmediatelywhatwasgoingtohappen.Turning,hestartedtosprint,summoningeverymuscleinhisstrainingbodytothisonelasteffort.Acrossthebridgetotheothersideheran,thestructurefracturingandplummetingbehindhim.Twentyyardstogo—ten—hecouldfeelthestoneworkplungingawayjustashisheelsleftit.Andatlast,hischestpracticallysplittingwiththeeffortofbreathing,helayuprightagainstthegreyrockofthe
mountainside,hischeekpressedtoit,hisfeetsecureonthenarrowpath,unabletothink,ordo,anything,listeningtothesoundsofthestonesofthebridgeastheyfellintothetorrentbelow,listeningtothesoundsebb,andebb,untiltherewasnothing,nosoundatallbutthewind.
ELEVEN
Gradually,Ezio’sbreathingcalmedandleveled,andtheachesinhismuscles,forgotteninthecrisis,begantoreturn.Buttherewasmuchtodobeforehecouldallowhisbodytherestitneeded.Whathehadtodowasfeedit.Hehadn’teatenordrunkanythingfornearlytwenty-fourhours.Hebandagedhisgrazedhandsaswellashecould,usingascarfdrawnfrom
withinhistunicandtearingitintwo,andcuppedapalmtocaptureatrickleofwaterthatwasrunningofftherockagainstwhichhischeekwaspressed.Partlyassuaged,hepushedawayfromthesurfacehe’dbeenleaningonandcheckedhimselfover.Nobrokenbones,aslightsprainintheleftside,wherehe’dbeenwounded,butnothingelse,nothingserious.Hesurveyedthescene.Nooneseemedtohavesetoutinpursuit,butthey
wouldhavewatchedhisfalldowntheescarpmentandhisrunacrossthecollapsingbridge—perhapstheyhadn’tnoticedthathe’dmadeit—perhapsthey’djustassumedthathehadn’t.Buthecouldn’tdiscountthepossibilitythatthere’dbesearchpartiesout,ifonlytorecoverabody.TheTemplarswouldwanttobequitesurethattheMentoroftheirarchenemieswasindeeddead.Helookedatthemountainsidenexttohim.Bettertoclimbthantousethe
path.Hedidn’tknowwhereitled,anditwastoonarrowtoaffordhimroomtomaneuverifhehadtofight.Andthemountainlookedclimbable.Attheveryleast,hemightbeabletoreachsomepocketsofsnowandreallyslakehisthirst.Heshookhimself,grunting,andsetabouthistask.Hewasgladthathewasdressedindarkcolors,forhehadnoneedtomake
anyefforttoblendwiththerockfacehewascrawlingup.Handholdsandfootholdswereeasytofindatfirstthoughthereweretimeswhenhehadtostretchhard,timeswhenhismusclesshriekedinprotest,and,once,ashardofrockflakedoffinhishand,nearlycausinghimtocrashbackdownthehundredfeetorsohe’dalreadycovered.Theworstthing—andthebest—wasthethinbutconstantstreamofwaterthatfellonhimfromabove.Theworst,becausethewetrockswereslippery;thebest,becauseawaterfallmeantacreek—attheveryleastacreek—upabove.Buthalfanhour’sclimbbroughthimtothetopofwhatturnedouttobenota
mountainbutacliff,sincethegroundhefinallyhauledhimselfupontowaslevel
andcoveredwithpatchesofrough,tussockygrass.Akindofall-but-barrenAlpinemeadow,borderedontwosidesbymorewallsofblackandgreyrock,butopeningwestwardquitesomeway,asfarasEziocouldsee.Amountainpass,exceptforthefactthat,behindhim,itlednowhere.Perhapsonce,longago,ithad.Anancientearthquakemightwellhavecausedthecliffshe’djustclimbed,andthegullyintowhichthebridgehadfallen.Eziospedtoonesideofthelittlevalleytoreconnoiter.Wheretherewere
passes,wheretherewaswater,therecouldalsobepeople.Hewaited,nearmotionless,foranotherhalfanhourbeforeventuringforward,shakinghismusclestokeepthemwarmastheyhadbeguntostiffenwiththelongperiodofimmobility.Hewaswet,hewasgettingcold.Hecouldnotaffordtobeouttherefortoolong.ItwasonethingtoescapetheTemplars,buthiseffortwouldbewastedifhenowfellvictimtoNature.Hemovedclosertothestream,locatingitbythechucklingofitswater.
Stoopingbyitsbank,hedrankasmuchashedaredwithoutgluttinghimself.Hefollowedon.Afewwoodyshrubsbegantoappearbyitsbanks,andsoonhecameuponastuntedcoppicebythesideofapool.There,hepaused.Itwouldbeamiracleiftherewasanythinglivingsohigh,sofarfromthevillagethatsquattedbelowthecastleofMasyaf,anyanimalhecouldcatchandeat;butiftherewasapool,therewasalsothefaintestchancethattheremightbefish.Hekneltandpeeredintothedepthsofthedarkwater.Stillasafishingheron,
hedisciplinedhimselftobepatient.Andthen,atlast,aripple,afaintone,whichdisappearedassoonasithadunsettledthewater’ssurface,butenoughtoshowhimthattherewassomethingaliveinthere.Hecontinuedhiswatch.Littleflieshoveredlowoverthepool.Someflewoverandharassedhim,attractedbyhisbodyheat.Notdaringtoswatthemaway,heenduredtheirticklingattentionsandtheirtiny,viciousbites.Thenhesawit—alarge,plumpbody,thecolorofacorpse,movingsluggishly
sixinchesbelowthesurface.Betterthanhe’ddaredhope—itlookedlikeacarp,maybe,orsomethingverylikeit.Ashewatched,another,muchdarker,joinedit,andthenathird,itsscalescopperygold.Eziowaitedforthemtodowhatheexpectedthemtodo—puttheirsnoutsto
thesurfaceandgulpair.Thatwouldbehismoment.Allhisattentionfocused,hetensedhisbodyandsteeledhishands.Thedarkfishmadeitsmove,bubbleseruptedasafatmouthappeared.Eziosprang.Andfellback,elated,thebigfishwrigglingfranticallyinhisgraspbutunable
toslideout.Helaiditonthegroundbesidehimanddispatcheditwithastone.Therewasnowayhecouldcookthis.He’dhavetoeatitraw.Butthenhe
lookedagainatthestonehe’dusedtokillitandrememberedtheshardthathadflakedoffinhishandduringhisclimb.Flint!Withluck,hecouldstartafire—todryhisclothesasmuchastocookwith.Rawfishdidn’tbotherhim—he’dread,besides,thatsomewhereinanunimaginablecountryfarawaytotheeasttherewasapeoplewhoactuallyregardeditasadelicacy.Butwetclothingwasquiteanotherthing.Asforthefireitself,he’dtaketherisk.Fromwhathe’dseen,hewasprobablythefirsthumaninthisvalleyinathousandyears,anditstoweringsideshiditfromviewformiles.Hegatheredtogethersomebrushwoodfromthecoppice,and,afterafew
moments’experiment,hehadmanagedtostartatinyredglowinahandfulofgrass.Carefully,heplaceditunderapreparedtentoftwigs,burninghimselfashisfireimmediatelyflared.Itburnedwell,givingofflittlesmoke,andthatwasthinandlight,immediatelywhiskedintonothingnessbythebreezeForthefirsttimesincehisfirstsightingofMasyaf,Eziosmiled.Despitethecold,tosavetime,hetookoffhisclothestodrythembythefire
onrudimentarybrushwoodframesasthefishcookedandbubbledonasimplespit.Lessthananhourlater,thefirekickedoutanditstracesscattered,hefeltacertainwarmthinhisbellyandwasable,soonafterward,todongarmentswhich,ifnotlaundry-fresh,werewarm,andsufficientlydriedforhimtowearcomfortably.Theywouldhavetofinishdryingasheworethem.Asforhisexhaustion,thatwouldhavetokeep.He’dresistedthedesiretosleepbythefireandthepool,afightastoughasanyhe’dhadontheroad,buthewasrewardedbyasecondwind.Hefeltequaltothetaskofreturningtothecastle.Heneededhisgear,thenhe
neededtounlockthesecretsoftheplaceifhisquestwastomeananything.Asheretracedhissteps,henoticed,shortlybeforehereachedthecliffhe’d
climbed,thatonthesouthernsideofthevalleyanotherpathwayledupwardalongthesideofthatrockface.Whohadhewnthesepathways?Menfromthedawnoftime?Eziohadnoleisuretoponderthisbutwasgratefulthatthisonewasthere.Itrosesteeplyeastward,backinthedirectionofMasyaf.Eziostartedtoclimb.Afteranascentofsomefivehundredfeet,thepathendedonanarrow
promontory,whereafewfoundationstonestestifiedtothepresencelongagoofalookouttower,whereguardswouldhavebeenabletoscanthecountryaroundandgivethecastleadvancewarningofanyapproachingarmyorcaravan.
Lookingeastwardanddown,thegreatcomplexofMasyaf,withitsrearingwallsandcupola’dtowers,spreadoutbeneathhim.Eziofocusedhard,andhiseyes,askeenasaneagle’s,begantopickoutthedetailsthatwouldhelphimreturn.Farbelow,hediscernedaropebridgeacrossthesamechasmformerly
spannedbythestoneonehehadrunacross.Nearitwasaguardpost.Therewasnootheraccesstothecastle,asfarashecouldsee,fromthesidehewason,butatthefarsideofthebridge,thewaytothecastlewasrelativelyclear.Thewaydowntothebridge,onhisside,wasanothermatter.Anall-but-sheer
cascadeofblackrock—enoughtodauntthesurest-footedibex.Anditwasinfullviewoftheguardpostonthecastlesideofthebridge.Eziolookedatthesun.Itwasjustpastitszenith.Hecalculateditwouldtake
fourtofivehourstoreachthecastle.Heneededtobeinsidebeforedarknessfell.Heclambereddownfromthepromontoryandbeganhisdescent,takingit
slowly,takingcarenottodislodgethejumbleoflooserocks,incasetheytumbleddownthemountainsideandalertedtheTemplarsguardingthebridge.Itwasdelicatework,butthesunwouldbesettingbehindhimand,therefore,shiningintheeyesofanywatchersbelow,andEziowasgratefulforitsprotection.He’dbedownbeforeitsetbehindtherockfacehewason.Atlasthereachedthesecurityandconcealmentofalargeoutcroponlevel
groundnotfiftyyardsfromthewestsideofthebridge.Ithadgrowncolder,andthewindwasgettingup.Thebridge—ofblack-tarredrope,withnarrowwoodenslatsasitswalkway—swungandrattled.AsEziowatched,twoguardsemergedfromthepostandwalkedalittlewaytoandfroontheirsidebutdidnotventureontothebridgeitself.Theywerearmedwithcrossbowsandswords.Thelightwasdullandflat,itwasdifficulttojudgedistances.Butthe
lesseninglightwastoEzio’sadvantage,andheblendedineasilywithhissurroundings.Likeashadow,crouching,hemadehiswayclosertothebridge,buttherewouldbenocoveroncehewasonit,andhewasunarmed.Hepausedoncemoreabouttenfeetaway,watchingtheguards.Theylooked
coldandbored,Ezionotedtohissatisfaction—theywouldnotbealert.Nothingelsehadchangedexceptthatsomeonehadlitalampwithinthepost,soheknewthereweremorethantwoofthem.Butheneededsomekindofweapon.Ontheclimbdownandonhisfinal
approach,hehadbeentoopreoccupiedwithnotgivinghispositionawaytolookforsomething,buthehadn’tforgottenthatthemountainstonewasflint,andtherewereplentyoflooseshardsathisfeet.Theyglintedblackinthedyinglight.Heselectedonewithhiseyes,abladelikeflakeabouttwelveincheslong
andtwowide.Hepickeditupandindoingsowastoohasty,causingotherstonestoclatter.Hefroze.Buttherewasnoreaction.Thebridgewasthirtyyardsacross.Hecouldbe
halfway,easily,beforetheguardsnoticedhim.Buthe’dhavetomakeamoveimmediately.Hebracedhimself,stoodup,andhurledhimselfforward.Butitwasn’teasygoingoncehewasonthebridge.Itswayedandcreaked
alarminglyinthenow-savagewind,andhehadtograbitsguideropestoretainhisbalance.Allthatcosttime.Andbythen,theguardshadseenhim.Theyshoutedchallenges,whichgainedhimasecondortwo,butseeinghimcomeon,theyunslungtheirbows,fittedbolts,andfired.Astheydidso,threemoreguards,bowsalreadyprimed,camerushingoutofthepost.Thebadlightaffectedtheiraim,butitwascloseenough,andEziohadtoduck
anddodge.Atonepointinthemiddleofthebridgeanoldplanksnappedunderhim,andhisfootcaught,buthemanagedtopullitfreebeforehislegsankthroughthegap—thenhewouldhavebeendonefor.Asitwas,hewasluckytobeabletoavoidmorethanagrazingshotasaboltcaressedhisneck,rippingthroughthebackofhishood.Hecouldfeelitsheatonhisskin.They’dstoppedfiring,andweredoingsomethingelse.Eziostrainedtosee.Winches!Theyhadplentyofslackropeonthewinches,andtheywerepreparingtoletit
go,letitspinoutassoonastheyunlockedthewinches.Theycouldhaulthebridgeupagainafterthey’dtumbledhimintothegulfbelow.Merda,Eziothought,half-running,half-stumbling,forward.Twiceinoneday!
Withfiveyardstogo,hethrewhimselfintotheairasthebridgefellawaybeneathhim,sailingforwardandlandingononeguard,knockinganotherflat,plungingtheflintbladeintothefirstman’sneckandtryingtobringitoutagainfast,butitbrokeoffwhereitmusthavesnaggedonbone—thenfindinghisfeet,spinningaroundashehauledthesecondguard,notyetrecovered,roughlytowardhim,andswiftlydrawingtheman’sownsword,hepulleditbackandranhimthroughwithit.Theotherthreehadabandonedtheirbowsanddrawntheirownswords,
penninghiminwithhisbacktotheprecipice.Eziothoughtfast.He’dseennoothermenaround,noonehadgonetoraisethealarm;he’dhavetofinishthesethree,thengetintothecastlebeforeanythingwasdiscovered.Butthemenwerebig,andtheyhadn’tbeenonguard;theywerefreshandrested.Ezioheftedtheswordinhishand.Helookedfromonefacetotheother.But
whatwasithesawintheireyes?Fear?Wasitfear?
“YouAssassindog!”oneofthemspatthoughhisvoiceallbuttrembled.“YoumustbeinleaguewiththeDevil!”“IftheDevilisanywhere,he’swithyou,”snarledEzio,throwinghimself
forward,knowingthathecouldtakeadvantageoftheirfear,oftheirfearthathewasinsomewayfilledwithasupernaturalforce.Sesolo!Theyclosedthen,shoutingoathssoloudlythatEziohadtomakehastetocut
themdown,tosilencethem.Theirblowswerewildandpanicky,andthejobwasquicklydone.Hedraggedthebodiesintotheguardpost,buttherewasnotimetohaulthe
bridgebackup;besides,thatwasanimpossiblejobforamanalone.Briefly,heconsideredchangingclotheswithoneoftheguards,butthatmighthavewastedprecioustime,andthegatheringdarknesswasonhisside.Eziostartedupthepathleadingtothecastle,gratefulfortheshadowsthathad
beguntogatheratitssides.Hereachedthefootofitswallsonitsblindside,unmolested.Thesunhadall
butset,onlyaredglowshowingbehindthedistantcliffsandmountainstothewest.Itwascold,andthewindinsistent.Thecastle,oldasitwas,hadweatheredstonesandtheyaffordedenoughhandholdsandfootholdsforaclimberwhoknewwhathewasdoing.Ezio,keepinginmindapictureoftheplanofthefortress,whichhehadstudiedinRome,drewonthelastreservesofhisenergyandbegantheascent.Onehundredfeet,hecalculated,andhe’dbewithintheoutersanctum.Afterthat,heknewwheretheconnectinggatesthatledtotheinnerfortifications,thetowers,andthekeepwere.Theclimbwasharderthanhe’dthought.Hisarmsandlegsached,andhewishedhehadsomekindofimplementthatwouldhelpextendhisreach,onethatcouldgriptheholdsinflexibly,extendingthepowerofhishands.Buthewilledhimselfupward,and,asthelastembersofsunsetdiedbehindtheblackrampartsofmountain,givingwaytothefirstpalestars,EziodroppedontoawalkwaythatranafewfeetbelowthecrenellationsoftheOuterWall.Fiftyyardsoneithersideofhimwerewatchtowers,buttheguardsinthemwerelookingoutanddown—therewasacommotion,dimlyheard,fromthedirectionoftheguardhousebythebridge.Heraisedhiseyestothekeeptower.Theywouldhavestowedhiskit—his
precioussaddlebagswithhisweapons—inthesecurecellarstoreroombelowit.
Hedroppedfromthewalkwaytotheground,alwayskeepingtotheshadows.Heboreleft,towardwhereheknewthegategivingaccesstothekeeplay.
TWELVE
Soft-footedasapuma,andeverseekingthedarkestroutes,Ezioreachedhisgoalwithoutfurtherconfrontations.Justaswell,forthelastthinghewantedwasanothernoisyfight.Iftheyfoundhimagain,theywouldn’tlethimlingerorgivehimtheghostofachanceofescape—they’dkillhimonthespot,skewerhimlikearat.Andtherewerefewguardsabout—allhe’dseenwerethoseonthebattlements.Theymustallbeout,lookingforhiminthepaleuncertainlightaffordedbythemyriadstars—andtheskirmishattheguardpostwouldhavemadethemredoubletheirefforts,forthathadgiventhemproofbeyonddoubtthathewasnotdead.ThereweretwoolderTemplarguardssittingataroughwoodentablenearthe
entrancetothecellarstoreroom,butonthetablewasalargepewterjugofwhatlookedlikeredwineandtwowoodenbeakers,andtheguardsbothhadtheirheadsandarmsonthetable.Theyweresnoring.Ezioapproachedwithextremecaution,havingseentheringofkeyshangingatthesideofoneofthemen.HehadnotforgottenthepickpocketingskillswhichtheAssassinmadame
PaolahadtaughthimasayoungmaninFlorence.Verycarefully,tryingtokeepthekeysfromjangling—fortheslightestsound,whichmightawakenthemen,couldspellhisdoom—heliftedtheringand,withhisotherhand,awkwardlyuntiedtheleatherthongthatattachedittotheman’sbelt.Atonepointthelooseningknotsnaggedandstuck,andinEzio’seffortstofreeit,hetuggedtoohard,andthemanstirred.Eziobecameastatue,watchingvigilantly,bothhishandsengagedandunabletomakeamoveforeitherguard’sweapon.Butthemanmerelysnuffledandwentonsleeping,creasinghisbrowuncomfortably,perhapsatsomedream.Atlast,thekeyringwasinEzio’shands,andhecreptstealthilydownthe
torchlitaislebeyondtheguards,lookingattheheavyironcladwoodendoors,whichranalongeitherside.Hehadtoworkfast,butitwasalongjob,checkingwhichkeyonthebigsteel
ringfittedintowhatlock,andatthesametimecheckingthatthekeysdidn’tmakeanynoiseashemanipulatedthem.Butatthefifthdoor,hestrucklucky.Itopenedintoaveritablearmory,weaponsofvarioussortsstackedneatlyonwoodenshelvesthatranthelengthofthewalls.
He’dtakenatorchfromitssconcenearthedoor,andbyitslighthehadsoonfoundhisbags.Aquickinventoryindicatedthatnothingseemedtohavebeentaken,oreven,asfarashecouldsee,touched.HebreathedasighofreliefbecausethesewerethelastthingshewantedtheTemplarstogettheirhandson.TheTemplarshadsomegoodmindsworkingforthem,anditwouldhavebeendisastrousifthey’dbeenabletocopythehidden-blades.Hegavethemabriefinspection.He’dtraveledwithonlywhatheconsidered
tobehisessentialgear,andhefound,afterdouble-checking,thateverythinghe’dbroughtwithhimwasdefinitelyinplace.Hebuckledonthescimitar,drawingittomakesureitsbladewasstillkeen,thensliditintoitsscabbard,slammingitfirmlyhome.Hestrappedthebracertohisleftarmandtheunbrokenhidden-bladetohisleftwrist.Thebrokenbladeanditsharnesshestowedinthebags—hewasn’tgoingtoleavethatfortheTemplars,eveninitscurrentstate,andtherewasalwaysthechancethathe’dbeabletogetitrepaired.Buthe’dcrossthatbridgewhenhecametoit.Hestoredthespring-loadedpistolwithitsammunitioninthebagsand,takingasmuchtimeashedared,tookouthisparachuteandcheckedthatithadn’tbeendamaged.Theparachutewasnew—aninventionofLeonardo’sthathehadn’tusedinactionyet.Butthepracticerunshe’dmadewithithadmorethanproveditspotential.Hefoldedthetentlikestructureupneatlyandreturnedittotherestofhiskit,
slingingthebagsoverhisshoulderandstrappingthemsecurely,andmadehiswaybackthewayhe’dcome,pastthestill-sleepingguards.Onceoutside,hestartedtoclimb.Helocatedasecludedvantagepointonahighturretofthekeep.He’dselected
theplacebecauseitoverlookedMasyaf’sreargarden,underwhich,ifhisresearchonthecastleplanshadbeencorrect,theTemplarswouldbeconcentratingtheireffortstolocatethelibraryofthegreatAssassinMentor,Altaïr,who’druledtheBrotherhoodfromherethreecenturiesago.ThelegendarylibraryoftheAssassins,andthesourceofalltheirknowledgeandpower,ifhisfather’sletterwastobebelieved.Eziohadnodoubtatallthatnothinglessthanasearchforitwouldexplainthe
Templars’presenceinthecastle.Ontheedgeoftheturret’souterwall,lookingdownatthegarden,wasthe
largestonestatueofaneagle,wingsfolded,butsolifelikethatitappearedtobeabouttotakeflightandswoopdownonsomeunsuspectingprey.Withhishands,hetestedthestatue.Forallitsweight,itrockedveryslightlywhenheappliedpressuretoit.
Perfect.Eziotookuphispositionbytheeagleandpreparedtosettledownfortherest
ofthenight,knowingnothingwouldhappenbeforedawnandrealizingthatifhedidnottakethatopportunitytorest,hewouldnotbeabletoactwithefficiencywhenthemomentcame.TheTemplarsmighthavetakenhimforsomekindofdemidevil,butheknewonlytoowellthathewasjustaman,likeanyother.Butbeforeherested,asuddendoubtassailedhim,andhescannedthegarden
below.Therewasnosignofanyexcavations.Coulditbethathewasmistaken?Drawingonthelessonshehadlearnedandthepowershehaddevelopedin
training,hefocusedhiseyessothattheyassumedthepowerofaneagle’sandexaminedthegroundbeneathhimminutely.Byconcentratinghard,hewasatlastabletodiscernadullglowemanatingfromasectionofmosaicflooringinaonce-ornamental,now-overgrownbowerimmediatelybeneath.Satisfied,hesmiledandrelaxed.ThemosaicdepictedanimageofthegoddessMinerva.ThesunhadscarcelybrushedthebattlementstotheeastwhenEzio,refreshedbyhisshortsleepandalert,crouchedbythestoneeagle,knowingthatthemomenthadcome.Healsoknewthathehadtoactfast—everymomenthespentthereincreasedtheriskofdetection.TheTemplarswouldnothavegivenuponhimyet,andtheywouldbefiredupwithhatred—hisescape,whentheyhadhimintheverygripofdeath,wouldhaveleftthemhowlingforvengeance.Eziogaugeddistancesandangles,andwhenhewassatisfied,heplacedhis
bootagainstthestoneeagleandgavethestatueagood,hardpush.Itrockedonitsplinthandfelloutandawayovertheparapet,tumblingendoverendtowardthemosaicfloorfarbelow.Eziobarelywatcheditforasecond,toverifyitscourse,beforehethrewhimselfintotheairafterit,executingaLeapofFaith.Itwassometimesincehehadperformedone,andnowtheoldexhilarationreturned.Downtheyfell,theeaglefirst,Ezioplummetinginthesametrajectoryfifteen
feetaboveit.Towardwhatlookedlikeverysolidground.Eziodidn’thavetimetopraythathehadn’tmadeamistake.Ifhehad,the
timeforpraying—foreverything—wouldsoonbeover.Theeaglelandedfirst,inthecenterofthemosaic.Forasplitsecond,itseemedasiftheeaglehadsmashedtopieces,butitwas
themosaicthathadshattered,revealingbeneathitalargeaperturereaching
downintotheearth,throughwhichtheeagle,andEzio,fell.Hewascaughtimmediatelyonachutethattraveleddeeperintothegroundatanangleofsomeforty-fivedegrees,andhesliddownitfeetfirst,steeringhimselfwithhisarms,hearingthestoneeaglethunderingitswayaheadofhim,until,withamightysplash,ittumbledintoalargesubterraneanpool.Eziofollowed.Whenhesurfaced,hecouldseethatthepoolwasinthemiddleofagreat
antechamberofsomekind.Anantechamber,becauseitsarchitecturalfocuswasadoor.Adoorofdarkgreenstone,polishedsmoothbytime.Eziowasnotalone.ApartyofTemplarsonthegraniteembankmentofthe
lakenearthedoorhadturnedatthesightandsoundofthecrashingintrusionandwerewaitingforhim,yelling,swordsattheready.Withthemwasamaninworkmen’sclothes,adustycanvasapronwrappedroundhiswaistandaleathertoolbagonhisbelt.Astonemason,bythelookofhim.Ahammerandalargestonechiselhunginhishandsashewatched,mouthagape.EziohauledhimselfupontotheembankmentasTemplarguardshurried
forwardtorainblowsdownonhim,buthefendedthemofflongenoughtogettohisfeet.Thenhebracedhimselfandfacedthem.Hesensedtheirfearagainandtookadvantageoftheirmomentaryhesitation
toattackfirst.Hedrewhisscimitarfirmlywithhisrighthandandunleashedthehidden-bladebeneathhisleft.Intwoswiftstrokestorightandleft,hebroughtthenearestmendown.Theotherscircled,justoutofreach,takingturnstomakesuddenstabsathim,likestrikingvipers,hopingtodisorienthim.Buttheireffortsweren’tsufficientlyconcerted.Eziomanagedtodrivehis
shoulderagainstone,pitchinghimintothepool.Hesankalmostimmediately,itsblackwaterscuttingoffhisanguishedcryforhelp.Swingingroundandkeepinglow,Eziohurledafourthmanoverhisbackontothegranite.Hishelmetflewoffandhisskullcrackedwithanoiselikeagunshotonthediamond-hardstone.Thesurvivingfifthman,aTemplarcorporal,barkedadesperateordertothe
workman,buttheworkmandidnothing,toopetrifiedtomove.Then,seeingEzioturnonhim,thecorporalbackedaway,hismouthslavering,untilthewallbehindhimarrestedhisretreat.Ezioapproached,intendingmerelytoknocktheTemplarunconscious,butthenthecorporal,who’dbeenwaitingforhismoment,struckatreacherousdaggerblowtowardEzio’sgroin.Eziosidesteppedandseizedthemanbytheshoulder,nearthethroat.“Iwouldhavesparedyou,friend.Butyougivemenochoice.”Withoneswift
strokeofhisrazor-sharpscimitar,Ezioseveredtheman’sheadfromhisbody.“RequiescatinPace,”hesaid,softly.
Thenheturnedtothestonemason.
THIRTEEN
ThemanwasaboutEzio’sage,butrunningtofatandnotinthegreatestshape.Atthemoment,hewastremblinglikeanoutsizeaspen.“Don’tkillme,sir!”themanpleaded,cowering.“I’maworkingman,that’s
all.Justsomepoornobodywithafamilytolookafter.”“Gotaname?”“Adad,sir.”“Whatkindofworkisityoudo?Forthesepeople?”Eziostoopedtowipehis
bladesonthetunicofthedeadcorporalandsheathedthem.Adadrelaxedafraction.Hewasstillholdinghishammerandchisel,andEziohadkeptacarefuleyeonthem,butthestonemasonseemedtohaveforgottentheywereinhishands.“Digging,mostly.Wretchedhardworkitis,too,sir.It’stakenmeayearjust
tofindthischamberalone.”AdadscannedEzio’sface,butifhe’dbeenlookingforsympathy,hehadn’tfoundit.Afteramoment’ssilence,hewenton.“Forthepastthreemonths,I’vebeentryingtobreakthroughthisdoor.”Ezioturnedawayfromthemanandexaminedthedoorhimself.“Youhaven’t
mademuchprogress,”hecommented.“Ihaven’tmadeadent!Thisstoneisharderthansteel.”Ezioranahandacrosstheglass-smoothstone.Theseriousnessofhis
expressiondeepened.“Idoubtifyoueverwill.Thisdoorguardsobjectsmorevaluablethanallthegoldintheworld.”Nowthatthemenaceofdeathwaspast,theman’seyesgleamedinvoluntarily
“Ah!Doyoumean—gemstones?”Ezioregardedhimmockingly.Thenheturnedhisgazetothedoorand
examineditclosely.“Therearekeyholeshere.Fiveofthem.Wherearethekeys?”“Theytellmelittle.ButIknowtheTemplarsfoundonebeneaththeOttoman
sultan’spalace.Asfortheothers,Isupposetheirlittlebookwilltellthem.”Eziolookedathimsharply.“SultanBayezid’spalace?Andwhatisthis
book?”Themasonshrugged.“Ajournalofsomekind,Ithink.Thatuglycaptain,the
onewiththescarredface,hecarriesitwithhimwhereverhegoes.”
Ezio’seyesnarrowed.Hethoughtfast.Thenheappearedtorelax,and,takingasmalllinenpouchfromhistunic,hetossedittoAdad.Itjingledasthemancaughtit.“Gohome,”saidEzio.“Findotherwork—withhonestmen.”Adadlookedpleased,thendoubtful.“Youdon’tknowhowmuchI’dliketo.
I’dlovetoleavethisplace.Butthesemen—theywillmurdermeifItry.”Ezioturnedslightly,peeringbackupthechutebehindhim.Athinrayoflight
camedownit.Heturnedbacktothemason.“Packyourtools,”hesaid.“Youwillhave
nothingtofearnow.”
FOURTEEN
Stickingtotheless-frequentedstairwaysandcorridorsofthecastle,Ezioregainedthehighbattlementsunseen,hisbreathpluminginthecoldair.HemadehiswayroundthemtoapointthatoverlookedthevillageofMasyaf,crouchinginthecastle’sshadow.Heknewtherewouldbenowayofleavingthecastlebyeitherofitsheavilyguardedgates,buthehadtotrackdownthescarred,shaven-headedcaptain.Heguessedthatthemanwouldbeoutside,supervisingthesearchfortheescapedAssassin.Templarswouldbescouringthecountryside,whichexplainedtherelativeabsenceofmenwithintheconfinesofthefortress.Inanycase,EzioknewthatthenextstepinhismissionlaybeyondMasyaf’swalls.Butfirsthehadtoleavetheplace.Oncehehadaclearviewofthevillage,hecouldseethatTemplarguardswere
makingtheirroundsofit,interrogatingitsinhabitants.Makingsurethatthesunwasathisback,obscuringanyclearviewofhimfrombelow,heunstrappedhisbagsandtookouttheparachute,unfoldingitanderectingitwithasmuchspeedascarewouldallow,forhislifewoulddependonit.ThedistancewastoofarandthedescenttoodangerousforeventhemostdaringLeapofFaith.Theparachutetooktheformofatriangulartent,orpyramid,ofstrongsilk,
heldinplacebystrutsofthinsteel.Ezioattachedtheropefromeachofitsfourcornerstoaquick-releaseharness,whichhebuckledroundhischest,then,pausingtogaugethewindandtoensurethatnoonebelowwaslookingup,hurledhimselfintotheair.ItwouldhavebeenanexhilaratingfeelingifEziohadhadtheleisuretoenjoy
it,butheconcentratedonguidingthedevice,usingtheconvectioncurrentsandthermalsasbesthecould,imitatinganeagle,andbroughthimselftoasafelandingadozenyardsfromthenearestbuilding.Swiftlystowingtheparachute,hemadehiswayintothevillage.Sureenough,theTemplarswerebusyharassingthevillagers,pushingthem
aroundandbeatingthemwithoutmercyiftheyshowedtheslightestsignofnotansweringclearlyandinstantly.Ezioblendedinwiththepeopleofthevillage,listeningandwatching.OneoldmanwaspleadingformercyasaTemplarbravostoodoverhis
coweringform.“Helpme,please!”hebeggedanyonewhowouldlisten,butno
onewas.“Speak,dog!”theTemplarshouted.“Whereishe?”Elsewhere,ayounger
manwasbeingbeatenbytwothugsevenasheimploredthemtostaytheirhand.Anothercried,“Iaminnocent!”ashewasclubbedtotheground.“Whereishehiding?”snarledhisassailants.Itwasn’tonlythemenwhowerebeingcruellyhandled.TwootherTemplar
cowardshelddownawomanasathirdkickedhermercilessly,stiflinghercriesasshewrithedontheground,piteouslybeseechingthemtostop:“Iknownothing!Pleaseforgiveme!”“BringustheAssassin,andnofurtherharmwillcometoyou,”sneeredher
tormentor,bringinghisfaceclosetohers.“Otherwise...”Eziowatched,achingtoassistbutforcinghimselftoconcentrateonhissearch
forthecaptain.Hearrivedatthefrontgateofthevillagejustintimetoseetheobjectofhissearchmountingahorse-drawnwagon.Thecaptainwasinsuchahurrytobegonethatheflungthedriveroutofhisseat,ontotheground.“Getoutofmyway!”hebellowed.“Fíyeapóbrostámou!”Seizingthereins,thecaptainglaredaroundhimathistroops.“Noneofyou
leaveuntiltheAssassinisdead,”hesnarled.“Doyouunderstand?Findhim!”He’dbeenspeakingGreek,Ezioregistered.Formerly,Eziohadmostlyheard
ItalianandArabic.Couldthecaptain,atleast,beaByzantine,amongthisTemplarcrew?AdescendantofthosedrivenintoexilewhenConstantinoplefelltotheswordofSultanMehmed,sixty-fiveyearsago?EzioknewthattheexileshadestablishedthemselvesinthePeloponnesesoonafterward,but,evenafterthey’dbeenoverruntherebythetriumphantOttomans,pocketsstillsurvivedinAsiaMinorandtheNearEast.Hesteppedforward,intotheopen.Thesoldierslookedathimnervously.“Sir!”saidoneoftheboldersergeants.“Heseemstohavefoundus.”Forreply,thecaptainseizedthewhipfromitssocketbythedriver’sseatand
lashedhishorsesforward,yelling,“Go!Go!”Ezio,seeingthis,explodedintoarun.Templartroopstriedtoimpedehim,but,drawinghisscimitar,hecuthiswayimpatientlythroughthem.Makingadiveforthefast-disappearingwagon,hejustmissedgainingaholdonitbutmanagedtoseizeatrailingropeinstead.Thewagoncheckedforaninstant,thensurgedforward,draggingEziowithit.Painfully,Eziostartedtohaulhimselfhandoverhanduptheropetowardthe
wagon,whilebehindhimheheardthenoiseofthunderinghooves.Acoupleofsoldiershadmountedhorsesthemselvesandwerehotonhisheels,swords
raised,strivingtogetcloseenoughtocuthimdown.Astheyrode,theyscreamedwarningstothecaptain,wholashedhisownhorsesintoanevenmorefuriousgallop.Meanwhile,another,lighterwagonhadsetoffinpursuitandwasswiftlydrawinglevel.Crashingacrosstheroughterrain,Eziocontinuedtohaulhimselfuptherope.
Hewaswithintwofeetofthewagon’stailgatewhenthetworidersbehindhimclosedin.Heduckedhishead,waitingforablow,butthehorsemenhadbeentoohasty,andconcentratedmoreontheirquarrythantheirriding.TheirmountscollidedsickeninglyinchesbehindEzio’sheels,andfell,inapandemoniumofscreaminghorses,cursingriders,anddust.Straininghard,Ezioforcedhisachingarmstomakeonefinaleffort,and,
breathingheavily,hewrenched,ratherthanpulled,himselfthelastfootontothewagon,whereheclungforamoment,motionless,hisheadswimming,catchinghisbreath.Meanwhile,thesecondwagonhaddrawnabreastofthefirst,andthecaptain
wasfranticallysignalingthemenaboardtobringitincloser.Butassoonastheyhaddoneso,thecaptainleaptfromhiswagontotheirs,pushingitsdriverfromhisseat.Withadullcry,themanfelltothegroundfromthespeedingvehicle,hittingarockandricochetingoffitwithanappallingthud,beforelyinginert,hisheadtwistedroundatanunnaturalangle.Gainingcontroloftheplunginghorses,thecaptainracedforwardandaway,as
Ezio,inhisturn,scrambledtothefrontofthewagonhewasonandseizedthereins,hisarmmusclesyellinginprotestashehauledonthemtosteadyhisownteam.Histwohorses,foam-fleckedandwild-eyed,bloodgatheringatthebitsintheirmouths,neverthelesskeptuptheirgallop,andEzioremainedinthechase.Seeingthis,thecaptainsteeredtowardanoldopengateacrosstheroad,supportedbycrumblingbrickcolumns.Hemanagedtosideswipeoneofthesewithouthinderinghisonwardrush,andthecolumnsmasheddowninawelterofmasonry,directlyinfrontofEzio.Ezioheavedatthereins,drawinghisteamtotherightinthenickoftime,andhiswagonbumpedandcrashedofftheroadintothescrublandatitsedgeashestruggledtobringhishorsesbackaroundtotheleft,toregainthebeatentrack.Dustandsmallstonesfleweverywhere,cuttingEzio’scheeksandmakinghimsqueezehiseyesintoslitstoprotectthemandkeepfocusedonhisquarry.“Gotohell,damnyou!”screechedthecaptainoverhisshoulder.Andnow
Eziocouldseethatthesoldiershangingonprecariouslyinthebackofthefirstwagonwerepreparingbombstohurlathim.
Zigzaggingasbesthecouldtoavoidtheexplosions,whichwentoffonbothsidesofhimandbehindhim,Eziofoughthardtokeepcontrolofhisterrifiedand,bynow,all-but-stampedingteam.Butthebombshadfailedtofindtheirmark,andhekeptontrack.Thecaptaintriedadifferenttacticandadangerousone.Hesuddenlyslowed,fallingback,sothatEzio,beforehecouldmakea
countermove,drewlevel.Immediately,thecaptaincausedhisteamtoswervesothathiswagoncrashedbroadsideintoEzio’s.Eziocouldseethewhitesofthecaptain’shalf-crazedeyes,thescarlivid
acrosshisstrainedface,astheyglaredateachotherthroughtheswirlingair.“Die,youbastard!”yelledthecaptain.Thenheglancedahead.Eziofollowedhisgazeandsaw,upahead,aguard
towerand,beyondit,anothervillage.ThisvillagewaslargerthantheoneatMasyafandpartiallyfortified.AnoutlyingTemplarstronghold.Thecaptainmanagedtocoaxonemoreburstofspeedfromhishorses,andas
hedrewawaywithacryoftriumph,hismenthrewtwomorebombs.Thistimeoneofthemexplodedbeneaththeleft-handrearwheelofEzio’swagon.Theblastthrewthevehiclehalfwayintotheair,andEziowasthrownclearashishorsesmadesoundslikebansheesandplungedawayoffintothescrubland,draggingtheremainsoftheruinedwagonbehindthem.Thelandfellawaysharplytotherightoftheroad,andEziowaspitchedtwentyfeetdownintoagully,wherealargeoutcropofthornyshrubsbrokehisfallandhidhim.Helayprone,lookingattheunforgivinggreygroundinchesfromhisface,
unabletomove,unabletothink,butfeelingthateveryboneinhisbodyhadbeenbroken.Heclosedhiseyesandwaitedfortheend.
FIFTEEN
Ezioheardvoices,faraway,ashelayinakindofdream.Hethoughthesawtheyoungmaninwhiteagain,themanwhomhe’dseenatthetimeoftheambushandagainwhenhewasonthemakeshiftscaffold,buthecouldn’tbesure.Whohadneitherhelpednorhinderedhim,butwhoseemedtobeonhisside.Otherscameandwent:hislong-deadbrothers,FedericoandPetruccio;Claudia;hisfatherandmother;and—unbiddenandunwanted—thebeautiful,cruelfaceofCaterinaSforza.Thevisionsfaded,butthevoicesremained,strongernow,ashisothersenses
returnedtohim.Hetastedsoilinhismouthandsmelledtheearthagainstwhichhischeeklay.Theachesandpainsinhisbodyreturned,too.Hethoughthe’dneverbeabletomoveagain.Thevoiceswereindistinct,comingfromabove.HeimaginedtheTemplars
wereleaningovertheedgeofthelittlecliffhe’dfallendownbutrealizedthattheycouldn’tseehim.Thethickshrubsmustbeconcealinghisbody.Hewaitedawhile,untilthevoicesfinallyreceded,andsilencefell.Then,
tentatively,heflexedhishandsandfeet,thenhisarmsandlegs,as,gratefully,hespatoutthedirt.Nothingseemedtobebroken.Slowly,painfully,hewormedhiswayoutofthe
bushesandgottohisfeet.Then,cautiously,andkeepingtowhatcovertherewas,heclamberedbacktotheroad.HewasjustintimetoseetheTemplarcaptainpassingthroughthegateinthe
wallsofthefortifiedvillage,acoupleofhundredyardsaway.Keepingtothesideoftheroadwherebushesgrewandhecouldconcealhimself,hebrushedhimselfoffandstartedtowalktowardthevillage,butitseemedasifeverymuscleinhimprotested.“Thisusedtobesoeasy,”hemurmuredtohimself,ruefully.Buthewilled
himselfonwardand,skirtingthewall,foundalikelyplacetoclimbit.Havingstuckhisheadovertheparapettocheckthathewasunobserved,he
pulledhimselfoveranddroppedintothevillage.Hefoundhimselfinthestockyard,emptyexceptforapairofheiferswhichshuntedofftooneside,eyeinghimwarily.Hetooktimetowait,incasethereweredogs,butafteraminute,hepassedthroughthewicketofthestockyardand,followingthesound
ofraisedvoices,madehiswaythroughtheapparentlydesertedvillagetowardthem.Nearingthevillagesquare,hecaughtsightofthecaptainandsteppedoutofsightbehindashed.Thecaptain,standingonthetopofalowtoweratonecornerofthesquare,wasberatingtwounhappysergeants.Beyondthem,theassembledvillagersstoodmutelyby.Thecaptain’swordswerepunctuatedbythechop-chopofawaterwheelontheotherside,workedbytherivuletthatranthroughthevillage.“Iseemtobetheonlyonearoundherewhoknowshowtohandleahorse,”
thecaptainwassaying.“Untilwe’resurehe’sdeadthistime,Icommandyounottodropyourguardforamoment.Doyouunderstand?”“Yessir,”themenansweredsullenly.“Howmanytimeshaveyoufailedtokillthatman,hmn?”thecaptain
continuedangrily.“Listenupandlistenclose:IfIdonotseehisheadrollinginthedustatmyfeetwithinthehour,yourswilltakeitsplace!”Thecaptainfellsilentand,turning,watchedtheroadfromhisvantagepoint.
Eziocouldseethathewasnervous.Hefiddledwiththecockingleverofhiscrossbow.Eziohadmadehiswayintothecrowdofvillagersduringthecaptain’stirade,
blendinginwiththemasbesthecould,which,givenhisbatteredanddowntroddenappearance,wasn’tdifficult.Butthecrowdwasbreakingup,returningtowork.Themoodamongthepeoplewasnervous,andwhenamaninfrontofhimsuddenlystumbled,jostlinganother,thesecondturnedonhimirritably,snapping:“Hey,getoutofmyway—getamoveon!”Hisattentioncaughtbythedisturbance,thecaptainscannedthecrowd,andin
aninstanthiseyecaughtEzio’s.“You!”heshouted.Inanothermomenthehadcockedhisbow,fittedabolt,
andfired.Eziododgeditadroitly,anditflewpasthim,toembeditselfinthearmofthe
manwho’dsnapped.“Aiëë!”heyelped,clutchinghisshatteredbiceps.Eziodartedforcoverasthecaptainreloaded.“Youwillnotleavethisplacealive!”thecaptainbawled,firingagain.This
time,theboltstuckharmlesslyinawoodendoorframe,whichEziohadduckedbehind.Buttherewasverylittlewrongwiththecaptain’sshooting.Sofar,Eziohadbeenlucky.Hehadtogetaway,andfast.Twomoreboltssangpasthim.“There’snowayout!”thecaptaincalledafterhim.“Youmightaswellturn
andfaceme,youpitifulolddog.”Hefiredagain.
Eziodrewabreathandleapttocatchholdofthelintelofanotherdoorway,swinginghimselfupsothathewasabletogetontotheflatclayroofofadwelling.Heranacrossittotheothersideasanotherboltwhistledpasthisear.“Standyourgroundanddie,”holleredthecaptain.“Yourtimehascome,and
youmustacceptit,evenifitisfarawayfromyourwretchedkennelinRome!Socomeandmeetyourkiller!”Eziocouldseewheresoldierswererunningaroundtothebackofthevillage,
tocutoffhislineofretreat.Buttheyhadleftthecaptainisolated,exceptforhistwosergeants,andhisquiverofboltswasempty.Thevillagershadscatteredanddisappearedlongsince.Ezioduckedbehindthelowwallsurroundingtheroof,unstrappedhisbags
fromhisback,andslippedthepistolharnessontohisrightwrist.“Whywillyounotquit?!”thecaptainwascalling,drawinghissword.Eziostood.“Ineverlearnedhow,”hecalledbackinaclearvoice,raisinghis
gun.Thecaptainlookedattheraisedweaponinmomentarypanicandfear,then,
shrieking“Outofmyway!”athisattendants,heshovedthemasideandleaptfromthetowertotheground.Eziofiredandcaughthiminmidjump,thebulletcatchinghimintheleftkneejoint.Withahowlofpain,thecaptainhittheground,dashinghisheadagainstasharpstone,androlledoverthere.Thesergeantsfled.Eziocrossedthedesertedsquare.Nosoldierscameback.Eithertheirfearof
Eziohadpersuadedthemthathewasindeedasupernaturalbeing,ortheirloveoftheircaptaincouldnothavebeenverygreat.Therewassilenceexceptforthesteadyclatterofthewaterwheel,andthecaptain’sagonizedwhimpering.ThecaptaincaughtEzio’seyeasheapproached.“Ah,dammit,”hesaid.
“Well,whatareyouwaitingfor?Goon—killme!”“YouhavesomethingIneed,”Eziotoldhimcalmly,reloadinghisgunsothat
bothchamberswereready.Thecaptaineyedtheweapon.“Iseetheoldhoundstillhashisbite,”hesaidthroughgrittedteeth.Blood
flowedfromhiskneeandfromthemoreseriouswoundonhislefttemple.“Thebookyoucarry.Whereisit?”Thecaptainlookedcrafty.“NiccolòPolo’soldjournal,youmean?Youknow
aboutthat?Yousurpriseme,Assassin.”“Iamfullofsurprises,”Ezioreplied.“Giveittome.”Seeingtherewasnohelpforit,thecaptain,grunting,drewanoldleather-
boundbook,sometwelveinchesbysix,fromhisjerkin.Hishandwasshaking,
andhedroppeditontotheground.Thecaptainlookedatitwithalaughthatdied,gurgling,inhisthroat.“Take
it,”hesaid.“Wehavegleanedallitssecretsandfoundthefirstofthefivekeysalready.Whenwehavetherest,theGrandTemple,andallthepowerwithin,willbeours.”Eziolookedathimpityingly.“Youaredeceived,soldier.Thereisnoancient
templeatMasyaf.Onlyalibrary,fullofwisdom.”Thecaptainlookedathim.“YourforebearAltaïrhadtheAppleofEdeninhis
controlforsixtyyears,Ezio.Hegainedmuchmorethanwhatyoucallwisdom.Helearned...everything!”Eziothoughtaboutthatfleetingly.HeknewtheApplewassafelyburiedina
churchcryptinRome—heandMachiavellihadseentothat.Buthisattentionwasdrawnbackimmediatelybyasharpgaspofpainfromthecaptain.Bloodhadbeenstreamingfromhisuntendedwoundsallthetimetheyhadbeenspeaking.Nowthemanhadthedeathpalloronhim.Acuriouslypeacefulexpressioncameoverhisface,andhelaybackasahugelong,last,sighingbreathescapedhim.Eziowatchedhimforamoment.“Youwerearealbastardo,”hesaid.“But—
forallthat—RequiescatinPace.”Heleanedforwardandgentlyclosedtheman’seyeswithhisglovedhand.Thewaterwheelhammeredon.Otherwise,therewassilence.Eziopickedupthebookandturneditoverinhishands.Onitscover,hesaw
anembossedsymbol,itsgildinglongsincefaded.TheemblemoftheAssassinBrotherhood.Smilingslightly,heopenedittothetitlepage:
LACROCIATASEGRETANiccolòPolo
MASYAF,giugno,MCCLVII
COSTANTINOPOLI,gennaio,MCCLVIIAsheread,Eziodrewinabreath.Constantinople,hethought.Ofcourse...
SIXTEEN
Thebreezefreshened,andEziolookedupfromNiccolòPolo’sbook,openonhislapashesatunderanawningontheafterdeckofthelarge,broad-belliedbaghlah,asitcutthroughtheclearbluewateroftheWhiteSea,bothlateensandjibsettotakefulladvantageofafavorablewind.ThejourneyfromLatakiaontheSyriancoasthadfirsttakenhimbackto
Cyprus.ThenextportofcallhadbeenRhodes—wherehisattentionhadbeencaughtbythearrivalonboardofanewpassenger,abeautifulwomanofperhapsthirtywearingagreendressthatperfectlyaccordedwithhercopper-goldhair.ThenonthroughtheDodecanesenorthtowardtheDardanelles,and,atlast,theSeaofMarmara.Finally,thevoyagewasdrawingtowarditsclose.Sailorscalledtoeachother
aspassengerslinedupalongthegunwaletowatchas,amiledistant,glitteringinthesharpsunlight,thegreatcityofConstantinopleroseontheportbow.Ashewatched,EziotriedtoidentifypartsofthecityfromthemapofithehadboughtintheSyrianportbeforeembarkation.Nearhimstoodanexpensivelydressedyoungman,anOttoman,probablystillinhisteensbutalsoclearlyacquaintedwiththecity.Eziohadstruckupanoddingacquaintancewithhim.Theyoungmanwasbusywithamariner’sastrolabe,takingmeasurementsandmakingnotesinanivory-boundcopybook,whichhungonasilkcordfromhisbelt.“What’sthat?”Ezioasked,pointing.Hewantedtohaveasmuchknowledge
oftheplaceaspossiblebeforelanding.NewsofhisescapefromtheTemplarsatMasyafwouldnotbefarbehind,andhe’dneedtoworkfast.“That’stheBayezidQuarter.Thebigmosqueyoucanseewasbuiltbythe
sultanaboutfiveyearsago.AndjustbeyondityoucanseetheroofsoftheGrandBazaar.”“Gotit,”saidEzio,squintinginthesuntofocusandwishingthatLeonardo
hadgotaroundtomakingthatinstrumenthewasalwaystalkingabout—akindofextendabletubewithlenses—whichwouldmakedistantthingsseemcloser.“WatchyoursleevepursewhenyougototheBazaar,”advisedtheyoung
man.“Yougetaprettymixedbagofpeoplethere.”“Likeinanysouk.”“Evet.”Theyoungmansmiled.“Justoverthere,wherethetowersare,isthe
ImperialDistrict.ThatgreydomeyoucanseeistheoldchurchofHaghiaSofia.It’samosquenow,ofcourse.Andbeyondit,youseethatlong,low,yellowbuilding—moreofacomplexofbuildings,really—withtwolowdomesclosetogetherandaspire?That’sTopkapiSarayi.Oneofthefirstbuildingsweerectedaftertheconquest,andwe’restillworkingonit.”“IsSultanBayezidinresidence?”Theyoungman’sfacedarkenedslightly.“Heshouldbe—butno—heisnot.
Notatthemoment.”“Imustvisitit.”“You’dbettermakesureyouhaveaninvitationfirst!”Thebreezeslackened,andthesailsrippled.Thesailorsfurledthejib.The
masterbroughttheship’sheadaroundslightly,bringinganotheraspectofthecityintoview.“Youseethatmosquethere?”theyoungmancontinued,asifanxioustotake
theconversationawayfromTopkapiPalace.“That’stheFatihCamii—thefirstthingSultanMehmedhadbuilt,tocelebratehisvictoryovertheByzantines.Notthattherewasmuchofthemleftbythetimehegothere.Theirempirewasalreadylongdead.ButhewantedhismosquetosurpassHaghiaSofia.Asyoucansee,hedidn’tquitemakeit.”“Notforwantoftrying,”saidEziodiplomatically,ashiseyesscannedthe
magnificentbuilding.“Mehmedwaspiqued,”theyoungmancontinued.“Thestorygoesthathehad
thearchitect’sarmcutoffasapunishment.But,ofcourse,that’sjustalegend.SinanwasfartoogoodanarchitectforMehmedtowanttodamagehim.”“Yousaidthesultanwasnotinresidence,”Ezioprompted,gently.“Bayezid?No.”Theyoungman’stroubledlookreturned.“Agreatman,the
sultan,thoughthefireofhisyouthhasbeenreplacedbyquietnessandpiety.But,alas,heisatoddswithoneofhissons—Selim—andthathasmeantawarbetweenthem,whichhasbeensimmeringforyearsnow.”Thebaghlahwassailingalongunderthesouthernwallsofthecityandsoon
roundedthecornernorthintotheBosphorus.Shortlyafterward,agreatinletopenedoutontheportside,andtheshipsteeredintoit,overthegreatchainthathungacrossitsmouth.Ithadbeenlowered,butcouldberaisedtoclosetheharborintimesofemergencyorwar.“Thechainhasbeenindisusesincetheconquest,”theyoungmanobserved.
“Afterall,itdidnotstopMehmed.”“Butausefulsafetymeasure,”Ezioreplied.
“WecallthistheHaliç,”saidtheyoungman.“TheGoldenHorn.AndthereonthenorthsideistheGalataTower.YourGenoesecountrymenbuiltitaboutahundredandfiftyyearsago.Mindyou,theycalledittheChristeaTurris.Buttheywould,wouldn’tthey?AreyoufromGenoayourself?”“I’maFlorentine.”“Ahwell,can’tbehelped.”“It’sagoodcity.”“Affedersiniz.Iamnotfamiliarenoughwithyourpartoftheworld.Though
manyofyourcountrymenliveherestill.There’vebeenItalianshereforcenturies.YourfamousMarcoPolo—hisfather,Niccolò,wastradingherewellovertwohundredyearsago,withhisbrother.”Theyoungmansmiled,watchingEzio’sface.ThenheturnedhisattentionbacktotheGalataTower.“Theremightbeawayofgettingyoutothetop.Thesecuritypeoplemightbepersuaded.Yougetthemostbreathtakingviewofthecityfromthere.”“Thatwouldbe—mostrewarding.”Theyoungmanlookedathim.“You’veprobablyheardofanotherfamous
countrymanofyours,stillliving,Ibelieve.LeonardodaVinci?”“Thenamestirssomememories.”“Lessthanadecadeago,SayindaVincibeywasaskedbyoursultantobuilda
bridgeacrosstheHorn.”Eziosmiled,rememberingthatLeonardohadoncementionedittohimin
passing.Hecouldimaginehisfriend’senthusiasmforsuchaproject.“Whatbecameofit?”heasked.“Iseenobridgeherenow.”Theyoungmanspreadhishands.“I’mtoldthedesignwasbeautiful,but,
unfortunately,theplannevercametopass.Tooambitious,thesultanfelt,atlast.”“Nonmisorprende,”Eziosaid,halftohimself.Thenhepointedtoanother
tower.“Isthatalighthouse?”Theyoungmanfollowedhisgazetowardasmallisletaftofthem.“Yes.A
veryoldone.Elevencenturiesormore.It’scalledtheKizKulesi—how’syourTurkish?”“Weak.”“ThenI’lltranslate.You’dcallittheMaidenTower.Wecalleditafterthe
daughterofasultanwhodiedthereofasnakebite.”“Whywasshelivinginalighthouse?”Theyoungmansmiled.“Theplanwas,toavoidsnakes,”hesaid.“Look,now
youcanseetheAqueductofValens.Seethatdoublerowofarches?Those
Romanscertainlycouldbuild.Iusedtoloveclimbingit,asachild.”“Quiteaclimb.”“Youalmostlookasifyou’dliketotryit!”Eziosmiled.“Youneverknow,”hesaid.Theyoungmanopenedhismouthtosaysomethingbutchangedhismindand
shutitagain.HisexpressionashelookedatEziowasnotunkind.AndEzioknewexactlywhathewasthinking:anoldmantryingtoescapetheyears.“Wherehaveyoucomefrom?”askedEzio.Theyoungmanlookeddismissive.“Oh—theHolyLand,”hesaid.“Thatis,
ourHolyLand.MeccaandMedina.EverygoodMuslim’ssupposedtomakethetriponceinhislifetime.”“You’vegotitoverwithearly.”“Youcouldsaythat.”TheywatchedthecitypassbyinsilenceastheyrodeuptheHorntotheir
anchorage.“Thereisn’tacityinEuropewithaskylinelikethis,”Eziosaid.“Ah,butthissideisinEurope,”repliedtheyoungman.“Overthere”—he
gesturedeastacrosstheBosphorus—“thatside’sAsia.”“TherearesomeborderseventheOttomanscannotmove,”Ezioobserved.“Veryfew,”theyoungmanrepliedquickly,andEziothoughthesounded
defensive.Thenhechangedthesubject.“Yousayyou’reanItalian—fromFlorence,”hewenton.“Butyourclothesbeliethat.And—forgiveme—youlookasifyou’vebeeninthemratheralongtime.Haveyoubeentravelinglong?”“Sì,damoltotempo.IleftRomatwelvemonthsago,lookingfor...
inspiration.Andthatsearchhasbroughtmehere.”TheyoungmanglancedatthebookinEzio’shandbutsaidnothing.Ezio
himselfdidn’twanttorevealmoreofhispurpose.Heleanedontherailandlookedatthecitywalls,andtheotherships,fromallthecountriesintheworld,crowdedatmoorings,astheirbaghlahslowlypassedthem.“WhenIwasachild,myfathertoldmestoriesofthefallofConstantinople,”
Eziosaidatlast.“IthappenedsixyearsbeforeIwasborn.”Theyoungmancarefullypackedhisastrolabeintoaleatherboxslungfroma
beltroundhisshoulder.“WecallthecityKostantiniyye.”“Doesn’titamounttothesamething?”“Werunitnow.Butyou’reright.Kostantiniyye,Byzantium,NeaRoma,the
RedApple—whatrealdifferencedoesitmake?TheysayMehmedwantedtorechristenitIslam-bul—WhereIslamFlourishes—butthatderivation’sjustanotherlegend.Still,peopleareevenusingthatname.Thoughofcourse,the
educatedamongusknowthatitshouldbeIstan-bol—TotheCity.”Theyoungmanpaused.“Whatstoriesdidyourfathertell?BraveChristiansbeingbeatendownbywickedTurks?”“No.Notatall.”Theyoungmansighed.“Isupposethemoralofanystorymatchesthetemper
ofthemanwhotellsit.”Eziopulledhimselferect.Mostofhismuscleshadrecoveredduringthelong
voyage,buttherewasstillanacheinhisside.“Thatwecanagreeon,”hesaid.Theyoungmansmiled,warmlyandgenuinely.“Güzel!Iamglad!
Kostantiniyyeisacityforallkindsandallcreeds.EventheByzantineswhoremain.Andstudentslikeme,or...travelerslikeyou.”TheirconversationwasinterruptedbyayoungSeljukmarriedcouple,who
werewalkingalongthedeckpastthem.Ezioandtheyoungmanpausedtoeavesdropontheirconversation—Ezio,becauseanyinformationhecouldgleanaboutthecitywouldbeofinteresttohim.“Myfathercannotcopewithallthiscrime,”thehusbandwassaying.“He’ll
havetoshutupshopifitgetsanyworse.”“Itwillpass,”hiswifereplied.“Maybewhenthesultanreturns.”“Hah!”rejoinedthemansarcastically.“Bayezidisweak.Heturnsablindeye
totheByzantineupstarts,andlookwhattheresultis—kargasa!”Hiswifeshushedhim.“Youshouldnotsaysuchthings!”“Whynot?Itellonlythetruth.Myfatherisanhonestman,andthievesare
robbinghimblind.”Eziointerruptedthem.“Excuseme—Icouldn’thelpoverhearing—”Theman’swifeshotherhusbandalook:Yousee?ButthemanturnedtoEzioandaddressedhim.“Affedersiniz,efendim.Ican
seeyouareatraveler.Ifyouarestayinginthecity,pleasevisitmyfather’sshop.Hiscarpetsarethebestinalltheempire,andhewillgiveyouagoodprice.”Hepaused.“Myfatherisagoodman,butthieveshaveallbutdestroyedhisbusiness.”Thehusbandwouldhavesaidmore,buthiswifehastilydraggedhimaway.Ezioexchangedalookwithhiscompanion,whohadjustacceptedaglassof
sharbatbroughttohimbywhatlookedlikeavalet.Heraisedhisglass.“Wouldyoucareforone?It’sveryrefreshing,anditwillbeawhileyetbeforewedock.”“Thatwouldbeexcellent.”Theyoungmannoddedathisservant,whowithdrew.Inthemeantime,a
groupofOttomansoldierspassedby,ontheirwayhomefromatourofdutyin
theDodecanese,andtalkingofthecitytheywerereturningto.Ezionoddedtothemandjoinedthemforamoment,whiletheyoungman
turnedhisfaceawayandstoodaloof,makingnotesinhislittleivory-boundbook.“WhatIwanttoknowis,whataretheseByzantinethugsholdingoutfor?”
oneofthesoldiersasked.“Theyhadtheirchanceonce.Theynearlydestroyedthiscity.”“WhenSultanMehmedrodein,therewerefewerthanfortythousandpeople
livinghere,andlivinginsqualor,”putinanother.“Aynenoyle!”saidathird.“Exactlyso!Andnowlookatthecity.Three
hundredthousandinhabitants,andflourishingagainforthefirsttimeincenturies.Wehavedoneourpart.”“Wemadethiscitystrongagain.Werebuiltit!”saidthesecondsoldier.“Yes,buttheByzantinesdon’tseeitthatway,”rejoinedthefirst.“Theyjust
causetrouble,everychancetheyget.”“HowmayIrecognizethem?”Ezioasked.“Juststayclearofanymercenariesyouseewearingarough,reddishgarb,”
saidthefirstsoldier.“TheyareByzantines.Andtheydonotplaynice.”Thesoldiersmovedoffthen,calledbyanNCOtoreadythemselvesfor
disembarking.Ezio’syoungmanwasstandingathiselbow.Atthesamemoment,hisvaletreappearedwithEzio’ssharbat.“Soyousee,”saidtheyoungman.“Forallitsbeauty,Kostantiniyyeisnot,
afterall,themostperfectplaceintheworld.”“Isanywhere?”Ezioreplied.
SEVENTEEN
Theirshiphaddocked,andpassengersandcrewscrambledabout,gettingineachother’sway,asmooringropeswerethrowntomenonthequaysideandgangplankswerelowered.Eziohadreturnedtohiscabintocollecthissaddlebags—allthathecarried.
He’dknowhowtogetwhatheneededoncehewasashore.Hisyoungcompanion’sservanthadarrangedthreeleather-boundtrunksonthedeck,andtheyawaitedporterstocarrythemashore.Ezioandhisnewfriendpreparedtotakeleaveofoneanother.Theyoungmansighed.“Ihavesomuchworktoreturnto—andyetitisgood
tobehome.”“Youarefartooyoungtobeworriedaboutwork,ragazzo!”Ezio’seyewasdistractedbytheappearanceoftheredheadedwomaningreen.
Shewasfussingoveralargeparcel,whichlookedheavy.Theyoungmanfollowedhisgaze.“WhenIwasyourage,myinterestswere...weremainly...”Eziotrailed
off,watchingthewoman.Watchingthewayshemovedinherdress.Shelookedup,andhethoughthe’dcaughthereye.“Salve!”hesaid.Butshehadn’tnoticedhimafterall,andEzioturnedbacktohiscompanion,
who’dbeenwatchinghimwithamusement.“Incredible,”saidtheyoungman.“I’msurprisedyougotanythingdoneat
all.”“Sowasmymother,”Eziosmiledback,alittleruefully.Finally,thegatesinthegunwalewereopened,andthewaitingcrowdof
passengerssurgedforward.“Itwasapleasuretohavemadeyouracquaintance,beyefendi,”saidtheyoung
man,bowingtoEzio.“Ihopeyouwillfindsomethingtoholdyourinterestwhileyouarehere.”“IhavefaiththatIwill.”Theyoungmanmovedaway,butEziolingered,watchingthewoman
strugglingtolifttheparcel—whichshewasunwillingtoentrusttoanyporter—asshestartedtodisembark.Hewasabouttostepforwardtoassistwhenhesawthattheyoungmanhad
beatenhimtoit.“MyIbeofsomeassistance,mylady?”heaskedher.Thewomanlookedattheyoungmanandsmiled.Eziothoughtthatsmilewas
morekillingthananycrossbowbolt.Butitwasn’taimedathim.“Thankyou,dearboy,”shesaid,andtheyoungman,wavinghisvaletaside,personallyheftedthepackageontohisshoulder,followingherdownthecompanionwaytothequay.“Ascholarandagentleman,”Eziocalledtohim.“Youarefullofsurprises.”Theyoungmanturnedbackandsmiledagain.“Veryfew,myfriend.Very
few.”Heraisedahand.“Allahaismarladik!MayGodblessyou!”Eziowatchedasthewoman,followedbytheyoungman,wasswallowedup
bythecrowd.Ashewatched,henoticedamanstandingslightlyapart,lookingathim.Atoughmaninhismidthirties,inawhitesurcoatwitharedsash,anddarktrouserstuckedintoyellowboots.Longdarkhairandbeard,andfourthrowingknivesinascabbardattachedhighonhisleftshoulder.Healsoworeascimitar,andhisrightforearmcarriedatriple-platedsteelguard.AsEziotensedandlookedmoreclosely,hethought,butwasnotsure,thathecoulddetecttheharnessofahidden-bladejustbeneaththeman’srighthand.Thesurcoatwashooded,butthehoodwasdown,andtheman’sunrulyhairwaskeptincheckbyabroadyellowbandana.Eziomovedslowlydownthegangplanktothequay.Andthemanapproached.
Whentheywerewithintwopacesofeachother,themanstopped,smiledcautiously,andboweddeeply.“Welcome,Brother!Unlessthelegendisalie,youarethemanIhavealways
longedtomeet.RenownedMasterandMentor—EzioAuditoreda...”Hebrokeoffandhisdignitydesertedhim.“Lah,lah-lah!”hefinished.“Prego?”Eziowasamused.“Forgiveme,IhaveahardtimegettingmytongueroundItalian.”“IamEziodaFirenze.Thecityofmybirth.”“Whichwouldmakeme...YusufTazimdaIstanbul!Ilikethat!”“Istanbul.Ah—sothatiswhatyoucallthiscity.”“It’safavoritewiththelocals.Comesir—letmetakeyourpack—”“No,thankyou—”
“Asyouwish.Welcome,Mentor!Iamgladyouhavearrivedatlast.Iwillshowyouthecity.”“Howdidyouknowtoexpectme?”“YoursisterwrotefromRometoalerttheBrotherhoodhere.Andwehad
wordfromaspyinplaceatMasyafofyourexploits.Sowehavewatchedthedocksforweeksinthehopeandexpectationofyourarrival.”YusufcouldseethatEzioremainedsuspicious.Helookedquizzical.“YoursisterClaudiawrote—yousee?Iknowhername!AndIcanshowyoutheletter.Ihaveitwithme.Iknewyouwouldnotbeamantotakeanythingatitsfacevalue.”“Iseeyouwearahidden-blade.”“WhoelsebutamemberoftheBrotherhoodwouldhaveaccesstoone?”Eziorelaxed,slightly.Yusuf’sdemeanorwassuddenlysolemn.“Come.”HeputahandonEzio’sshoulderandguidedhimthroughtheteemingthrong.
Thecrowdedlanesheledhimdown,eachsidefilledwithstallssellingallmannerofgoodsunderakaleidoscopeofcoloredawnings,werefilled,itseemed,withpeopleofeverynationandraceonearth.Christians,Jews,andMuslimswerebusybarteringwitheachother,TurkishstreetcriesmingledwithothersinGreek,Frankish,andArabic.AsforItalian,EziohadrecognizedtheaccentsofVenice,Genoa,andFlorencebeforehe’dwalkedoneblock.Andtherewereotherlanguageshehalfrecognizedorcouldonlyguessat—Armenian,Bulgarian,Serbian,andPersian.Andagutturallanguagehedidnotrecognizeatall,spokenbytall,fair-skinnedmen,whoworetheirredhairandbeardswildandlong.“WelcometotheGalataDistrict.”Yusufbeamed.“Forcenturies,ithasbeena
hometoorphansfromEuropeandAsiaalike.Youwon’tfindmorediversityanywhereelseinthecity.Andforthatverygoodreason,weAssassinshaveourheadquartershere.”“Showme.”Yusufnoddedeagerly.“Kesinlikle,Mentor.Atonce!TheBrotherhoodhereis
impatienttomeetthemanwhoputtheBorgiaouttograss!”Helaughed.“DoeseveryoneinthecityalreadyknowI’mhere?”“IsentaboyaheadassoonasIspottedyou.Andinanycase,yourHolyLand
tusslewiththeTemplarsdidnotgounnoticed.Wedidn’tneedourspyforthat!”Eziolookedreflective.“WhenIfirstsetout,violencewasfarfrommymind.I
soughtmerelywisdom.”Helookedathisnewlieutenant.“ThecontentsofAltaïr’slibrary.”Yusuflaughedagainthoughlesscertainly.“Notrealizingthatit’sbeensealed
shutfortwo-and-a-halfcenturies?”Eziolaughedalittlehimself.“No.Iassumedasmuch.ButIadmitthatInever
quiteexpectedtofindTemplarsguardingit.”Yusufnowbecameserious.Theywerereachinglesspopulousstreets,and
theyrelaxedtheirpace.“Itisverytroubling.Fiveyearsago,Templarinfluenceherewasminimal.Justasmallfaction,withdreamsofrestoringthethronetoByzantium.”They’dreachedasmallsquare,andYusufdrewEziotoonesidetopointouta
knotoffourmencrowdedinadarkcorner.Theyweredressedindullgreyarmoroverroughredwoolentunicsandjerkins.“There’sagroupofthemnow,”Yusufsaid,loweringhisvoice.“Don’tlookin
theirdirection.”Heglancedaround.“They’regrowinginnumber,daybyday.Andtheyknowwhatweallknow,thatSultanBayezidisonhiswayout.They’rewatching,waitingfortheirmoment.Ibelievetheymaytrysomethingdramatic.”“ButistherenoheirtotheOttomanthrone?”Ezioasked,surprised.“That’sthetrouble—therearetwoofthem.Twoangrysons.It’safamiliar
patternwiththeseroyals.Whenthesultancoughs,theprincesdrawtheirswords.”Ezioponderedthis,rememberingwhattheyoungmanontheshiphadtold
him.“BetweentheTemplarsandtheOttomans,youmustbekeptbusy,”hesaid.“Ezio,efendim,ItellyouintruththatIbarelyhavetimetopolishmyblade!”Justthen,ashotrangout,andabulletembeddeditselfinthewallinchestothe
leftofYusuf’shead.
EIGHTEEN
Yusufdivedbehindarowofspicebarrels,withEzioclosebehindhim.“Talkofthedevil,andthereheis!”Yusufsaid,tightlipped,asheraisedhis
headjustenoughtoseethegunmanreloadingacrossthesquare.“LookslikeourByzantinefriendsovertheredidn’ttakekindlytobeingstared
at.”“I’lltakecareoftheguywiththemusket,”saidYusuf,measuringthedistance
betweenhimselfandhistargetashereachedbackandpluckedoneofhisthrowingknivesfromthescabbardathisback.Inacleanmovementhethrewitandithurtledacrossthesquare,rotatingthreetimesbeforeitfounditsmark,buryingitselfdeepintheman’sthroat,justasheraisedhisguntofireagain.Meanwhile,hisfriendswerealreadysprintingtowardthem,swordsdrawn.“Nowheretorun,”saidEzio,drawinghisownscimitar.“Baptismoffireforyou,”saidYusuf.“Andyou’veonlyjustarrived.Çok
üzüldüm.”“Don’tthinkaboutit,”repliedEzio,amused.He’dpickedupjustenough
Turkishtoknowthathiscompanioninarmswassayingsorry.Yusufdrewhisownsword,andtogethertheyleaptfromtheirhidingplaceto
confronttheoncomingfoe.Theyweremorelightlycladthantheirthreeopponents,whichleftthemworseprotectedbutmoremobile.Ezioquicklyrealized,ashejoinedwiththefirstByzantine,thathewasupagainstahighlytrainedfighter.Andhehadyettogetusedtousingascimitar.Yusufkeptuphisbanterastheyfought.Butthenhewasusedtothisenemy,
andagoodfifteenyearsEzio’sjunior.“Thewholecitystirstowelcomeyou—firsttheregents,likeme—andnow,therats!”Ezioconcentratedontheswordplay.Itwentagainsthimbadlyatfirst,buthe
quicklyattunedhimselftothelight,flexibleswordhewasusingandfounditscurvedbladeimprovedtheswingincredibly.Onceortwice,Yusuf,keepinganeyeonhisMentor,shoutedhelpfulinstructions,andendedupcastinghimanadmiringsidelongglance.“Inanilmaz!Amasteratwork!”Buthe’dallowedhisattentiontofalterforasecondtoolong,andoneofthe
Byzantineswasabletoslicethroughthematerialofhisleftsleeveandgashhis
forearm.Ashefellbackinvoluntarilyandhisassailantpressedhisadvantage,Ezioshovedhisownopponentviolentlyasideandwenttohisfriend’said,gettingbetweenYusufandtheByzantineandwardingoffwithhisleft-armbracerwhatwouldhavebeenafatalfollow-upblow.Thismovewrong-footedtheByzantinejustlongenoughforYusuftoregainhisbalanceand,inturn,fendoffanothermercenarywhowasclosinginonEzio’sback,dealingtheattackeramortalblowatthesametimeasEziofinishedoffthesecondman.ThelastremainingByzantine,abigmanwithajawlikearockface,lookeddoubtfulforthefirsttime.“Tesekkürederim,”saidYusuf,breathingheavily.“Birseydegil.”“Istherenoendtoyourtalents?”“Well,atleastIlearned‘thankyou’and‘you’rewelcome’onboardthat
baghlah.”“Lookout!”ThebigByzantinewasbearingdownonthem,roaring,abigswordinone
handandamaceintheother.“ByAllah,Ithoughthe’drunaway,”saidYusuf,sidesteppingandtripping
himup,sothat,carriedbytheweightofhisownmomentum,hecareeredforwardandcrashedheavilyintooneofthespicebarrels,fallingheadlongintoafragrantheapofyellowpowder,wherehelayimmobile.Ezio,afterlookingaround,wipedhisswordcleanandsheathedit.Yusuf
followedsuit.“Youhaveacurioustechnique,Mentor.Allfeintandnofight.Itseems.But
whenyoustrike...”“Ithinklikeamongoose—myenemyisthecobra.”“Strikingexpression.”“Itry.”Yusufglancedaroundagain.“We’dbettergo.Ithinkthat’senoughfunforone
day.”ThewordswerescarcelyoutofhismouthwhenanothersquadofByzantine
mercenaries,attractedbythesoundofthefight,cameboilingintothesquare.Eziowasinstantlyonthealert,whippinghisswordoutagain.Butthentheothersideofthesquarefilledwithmoretroops,wearinga
differentuniform—bluetunicsanddark,conicalfelthats.“Hangon—wait!”Yusufcried,asthenewarrivalsturnedtoattackthe
mercenaries,quicklycausingthemtoretreatandpursuingthemoutofsight,out
ofthesquare.“TheywereOttomanregulartroops,”YusufsaidinresponsetoEzio’s
questioninglook.“NotJanissaries—theyaretheeliteregiment,andyou’llknowthemwhenyouseethem.ButallOttomansoldiershaveaspecialloathingfortheseByzantinethugs,andthatistotheadvantageoftheAssassins.”“Howbiganadvantage?”Yusufspreadhishands.“Oh,justalittleone.They’llstillkillyouifyoulook
attheminawaytheydon’tlike,sameastheByzantines.Thedifferenceis,theOttomanswillfeelbadaboutitafterward.”“Howtouching.”Yusufgrinned.“It’snotsobad,really.Forthefirsttimeinmanydecades,we
Assassinshaveastrongpresencehere.Itwasn’talwaysthatway.UndertheByzantineemperors,wewerehunteddownandkilledonthespot.”“You’dbettertellmeaboutthat,”saidEzio,astheyonceagainsetofftoward
theBrotherhood’sheadquarters.Yusufscratchedhischin.“Well,theoldemperor,Constantine—theeleventh
withthatname—onlyhadathree-yearreign.OursultanMehmedsawtothat.Butbyallaccounts,Constantinewasn’ttoobadhimself.HewastheverylastRomanemperorinalinethatwentbackamillennium.”“Sparemethehistorylesson,”Eziointerrupted.“Iwanttoknowwhatwe’re
upagainstnow.”“Thingis,bythetimeMehmedtookthiscity,therewasalmostnothingleftof
it—oroftheoldByzantineEmpire.TheyevensayConstantinewassobrokehehadtoreplacethejewelsinhisrobeswithglasscopies.”“Myheartbleedsforhim.”“Hewasabraveman.Herefusedtheofferofhislifeinexchangefor
surrenderingthecity,andhewentdownfighting.Buthisspiritwasn’tsharedbytwoofhisnephews.Oneofthemhasbeendeadafewyearsnow,buttheother...”Yusuftrailedoff,thoughtfully.“He’sagainstus?”“Oh,youcanbetonthat.Andhe’sagainsttheOttomans.Well,therulers,
anyway.”“Whereishenow?”Yusuflookedvague.“Whoknows?Inexile,somewhere?Butifhe’sstill
alive,he’llbeplottingsomething.”Hepaused.“TheysayhewasinprettythickwithRodrigoBorgiaatonetime.”Eziostiffenedatthename.“TheSpaniard?”
“Theverysame.Theoneyoufinallysnuffedout.”“Itwashisownsonthatdidthedeed.”“Well,theyneverwereexactlytheHolyFamily,werethey?”“Goon.”“Goon.”
“RodrigowasalsoclosetoaSeljukcalledCem.Itwasallveryhush-hush,and
evenweAssassinsdidn’tknowaboutituntilmuchlater.”Ezionodded.Hehadheardthestories.“IfIrememberrightly,Cemwasabit
ofanadventurer.”“Hewasoneofthepresentsultan’sbrothers,buthehadhiseyeonthethrone
forhimself,soBayezidthrewhimout.HeendedupkindofunderhousearrestinItaly,andheandRodrigobecamefriends.”“Iremember,”Eziosaid,takingupthestory.“Rodrigothoughthecoulduse
Cem’sambitionstotakeConstantinopleforhimself.ButtheBrotherhoodmanagedtoassassinateCeminCapua,aboutfifteenyearsago.Andthatputanendtothatlittleplan.”“Notthatwegotmuchthanksforit.”“Ourtaskisnotwroughtinordertoreceivethanks.”Yusufbowedhishead.“Iamschooled,Mentor.Butitwasaprettyneatcoup,
youmustadmit.”Eziowassilent,so,afteramoment,Yusufcontinued:“ThetwonephewsI
mentionedwerethesonsofanotherofBayezid’sbrothers,Tomas.They’dbeenexiled,too,withtheirfather.”“Why?”“Wouldyoubelieveit—TomaswasaftertheOttomanthroneaswell.Sound
familiar?”“Thenameofthisfamilywouldn’tbeBorgia,wouldit?”Yusuflaughed.“It’sPalaiologos.Butyou’reright—italmostamountstothe
samething.AfterCemdied,thenephewsbothwenttogroundinEurope.Onestayedthere,tryingtoraiseanarmytotakeConstantinoplehimself—hefailed,ofcourse,anddied,likeIsaid,sevenoreightyearsago,withoutanheir,andpenniless.Buttheother—well,hecameback,renouncedanyimperialambition,wasforgiven,andactuallyjoinedthenavyforatime.Thenheseemedtosettledowntoalifeofluxuryandwomanizing.”“Butnowhe’sdisappeared?”“He’scertainlyoutofsight.”“Andwedon’tknowhisname?”
“Hegoesbymanynames—butwehavebeenunabletopinhimdown.”“Butheisplottingsomething.”“Yes.AndhehasTemplarconnections.”“Amantobewatched.”“Ifhesurfaces,we’llknowaboutit.”“Howoldishe?”“It’ssaidhewasbornintheyearofMehmed’sconquest,whichwouldmake
himjustahandfulofyearsolderthanyou.”“Stillenoughkickinhimthen.”Yusuflookedathim.“Ifyouareanythingtogoby,plenty.”Helookedaround
him.Theirwalkhadtakenthemdeepintotheheartofthecity.“We’realmostthere,”hesaid.“Thisway.”Theymadeanotherturn—intoanarrowstreet,dim,cool,andshadowydespite
thesunshine,whichtried,andfailed,topenetratethenarrowspacebetweenthebuildingsoneitherside.Yusufpausedatasmall,unimpressive-lookinggreen-painteddoorandraisedthebrassknockeronit.Hetappedoutacode,sosoftlythatEziowonderedthatanyonewithinwouldhear.Butwithinseconds,thedoorwasswungopenbyabroad-shouldered,narrow-hippedgirlwhoboretheAssassins’emblemonthebuckleofhertunicbelt.Eziofoundhimselfinaspaciouscourtyard,greenvinesclingingtotheyellow
walls.Assembledtherewasasmallgroupofyoungmenandwomen.TheygazedatEzioinaweasYusuf,withatheatricalgesture,turnedtohimandsaid,“Mentor—sayhellotoyourextendedfamily.”Eziosteppedforward.“Saluteavoi,Assassini.Itisanhonortofindsuchfast
friendssofarfromhome.”Tohishorror,hefoundthathewasmovedtotears.Maybethetensionsofthepastfewhourswerecatchingupwithhim;andhewasstilltiredafterhisjourney.YusufturnedtohisfellowmembersoftheConstantinopleChapterofthe
AssassinBrotherhood.“Yousee,friends?OurMentorisnotafraidtoweepopenlyinfrontofhispupils.”Eziowipedhischeekswithaglovedhandandsmiled.“Donotworry—Iwill
notmakeahabitofit.”“TheMentorhasnotbeeninourcitymorethanamatterofhours,andalready
thereisnews,”Yusufwenton,hisfaceserious.“Wewereattackedonthewayhere.Itseemsthemercenariesareonthemoveoncemore.So”—heindicatedthreemenandtwowomen—“you—Dogan,Kasim,Heyreddin;andyou—EvranikiandIrini—Iwantyoutomakeasweepofthearea—now!”
Thefivesilentlyrose,bowingtoEzioastheytooktheirleave.“Therestofyou—backtowork,”Yusufcommanded,andtheremaining
Assassinsdispersed.Leftalone,YusufturnedtoEzio,alookofconcernonhisface.“MyMentor.
Yourweaponsandyourarmorlookinneedofrenewal—andyourclothes—forgiveme—areinapitifulstate.Wewillhelpyou.Butwehaveverylittlemoney.”Eziosmiled.“Havenofear.Ineednone.AndIprefertolookaftermyself.It
istimetoexplorethecityalone,togetthefeelingofitintomyblood.”“Willyounotrestfirst?Takesomerefreshment?”“Thetimeforrestiswhenthetaskisdone.”Eziopaused.Heunslunghisbags
andwithdrewthebrokenhidden-blade.“Isthereablacksmithoranarmorerskilledandtrustworthyenoughtorepairthis?”Yusufexaminedthedamage,thenslowly,regretfully,shookhishead.“This,I
know,isoneoftheoriginalblades,craftedfromAltaïr’sinstructionsintheCodexyourfathercollected;andwhatyouaskmaybeimpossibletoachieve.Butifwecannotgetitdone,wewillmakesureyoudonotgooutunderarmed.Butleaveyourweaponswithme—thoseyoudonotneedtotakewithyounow—andIwillhavethemcleanedandhoned.Andtherewillbefreshclothesreadyforyouonyourreturn.”“Iamgrateful.”Eziomadeforthedoor.Asheapproachedit,theyoungblond
doorkeeperloweredhereyesmodestly.“Azizewillbeyourguide,ifyouwishhertogowithyou,Mentor,”Yusuf
suggested.Ezioturned.“No.Igoalone.”
NINETEEN
Intruth,Eziosoughttobealone.Heneededtocollecthisthoughts.HewenttoatavernaintheGenoesequarter,wherewinewasavailable,andrefreshedhimselfwithabottleofPigatoandasimplemaccaroininbroddo.HespenttherestoftheafternoonthoroughlyacquaintinghimselfwiththeGalataDistrictandavoidedtrouble,meltingintothecrowdwheneverheencounteredeitherOttomanpatrolsorbandsofByzantinemercenaries.Helookedjustlikemanyanothertravel-stainedpilgrimswanderingthecolorful,messy,chaotic,excitingstreetsofthecity.Oncehewassatisfied,hereturnedtoheadquarters,justasthefirstlampswere
beinglitinthedarkinteriorsoftheshopsandtheywerelayingtablesinthelokantas.Yusufandsomeofhispeoplewerewaitingforhim.TheTurkimmediatelycameuptohim,lookingpleasedwithhimself.“Praise
theheavens!Mentor!Iamgladtoseeyouagain—andsafe.Wefearedwehadlostyoutothevicesofthebigcity!”“Youaremelodramatic,”saidEzio,smiling.“Andasforvices,Iamcontent
withmyown,grazie.”“Ihopeyouwillapproveofthearrangementswehavemadeinyourabsence.”YusufledEziotoaninnerchamber,whereacompletenewoutfithadbeen
laidoutforhim.Nexttoit,neatlyarrangedonanoaktable,layhisweapons,sharpened,oiled,andpolished,gleamingasnew.Acrossbowhadbeenaddedtotheset.“Wehaveputthebrokenbladeinaplaceofsafety,”saidYusuf.“Butwe
noticedthatyouhavenohookblade,sowehaveorganizedoneforyou.”“Hookblade?”“Yes.Look.”YusufdrewbackhissleevetorevealwhatEziohadfirsttakento
beahidden-blade.ButwhenYusufactivatedit,anditsprangforth,hesawthatitwasamorecomplexvariant.Thetelescopicbladeofthenewweaponendedinacurvedhookofwell-temperedsteel.“Fascinating,”saidEzio.“You’veneverseenonebefore?Igrewupusingthese.”“Showme.”YusuftookanewhookbladefromoneoftheAssassinsinattendance,who’d
helditinreadiness,andtosseditovertoEzio.Transferringhisgoodhidden-bladefromhisrightwristtohisleft,underthebracer,Eziostrappedthehookbladetohisright.Hefeltitsunfamiliarweightandpracticedreleasingandretractingit.HewishedLeonardohadbeentheretoseeit.“You’dbettergivemeademonstration.”“Immediately,ifyouareready.”“AsI’lleverbe.”“ThenfollowmeandwatchwhatIdoclosely.”Theywentoutsideanddownthestreetinthelightoflateafternoontoa
desertedspacebetweenagroupoftallbrickbuildings.Yusufselectedone,whosehighwallsweredecoratedwithprojectinghorizontalrunsoftiledbrickatintervalsofsometenfeet.Yusufsetofftowardthebuildingatarun,leaping,whenhereachedit,ontoacoupleofwaterbarrelsplacedclosetoit,then,springingupwardfromthem,hereleasedhishookbladeandusedittogripthefirstprojectingrunoftiles,pullinghimselfupwiththehookbladeandusinghismomentumtohookontotherunabove,andsoonuntilhewasstandingontheroofofthebuilding.Thewholeoperationtooklessthanafewseconds.Takingadeepbreath,Eziofollowedsuit.Hemanagedthefirsttwooperations
withoutdifficulty,andevenfoundtheexperienceexhilarating,buthealmostmissedhisholdonthethirdtierandswungdangerouslyoutwardforamoment,untilhecorrectedhimselfwithoutlosingmomentumandfoundhimselfsoonafterwardontheroofnexttoYusuf.“Don’tstoptothink,”Yusuftoldhim.“Useyourinstinctsandletthehookdo
thework.Icanalreadyseethatafteranothercoupleofclimbslikethat,you’llhavemasteredit.You’reaquicklearner,Mentor.”“Ihavehadtobe.”Yusufsmiled.HeextendedhisownbladeagainandshowedEziothedetail.
“ThestandardOttomanhookbladehastwoparts,yousee—thehookandtheblade,sothatyoucanuseoneortheotherindependently.Anelegantdesign,no?”“ApityIdidn’thaveoneoftheseinthepast.”“Perhapsthenyouhadnoneedofone.Come!”Heboundedovertherooftops,Eziofollowing,rememberingthedistantdays
whenhehadchasedafterhisbrotherFedericoacrosstherooftopsofFlorence.Yusufledhimtoplaceswherehecouldpracticesomemore,outofsightofpryingeyes,andonceEziohadaccomplished,withincreasingconfidence,anotherthreeclimbs,Yusufturnedtohimandsaid,aglintinhiseye:“There’s
stillenoughlightleftintheday.Howaboutabiggerchallenge?”“Vabene.”Eziogrinned.“Let’sgo.”Yusuftookoff,runningagain,throughtheemptyingstreets,untiltheyreached
thefootoftheGalataTower.“Theydon’tpostguardsinpeacetimeuntilthetorchesarelitontheparapets.Wewon’tbedisturbed.Let’sgo.”Eziolookedupthegreatheightofthetowerandswallowedhard.“You’llbefine.Followmylead,takearunatit,andletyourselfgo.Just
throwyourselfintoit.And—again—letthehookdoallthehardwork.Thereareplentyofnooksandcranniesinthestonework—you’llbespoiledforchoiceaboutwheretohookin.”Withacarefreelaughofencouragement,Yusufsetoff.Hisskillfuluseofthe
blademadeitlookasifhewerewalking—running,even—straightupthewallofthetower.Momentslater,Ezio,pantingbuttriumphant,joinedhimontheroof,lookingaroundhim.Astheyoungmanontheshiphadsaid,theviewsacrossthecitywerestunning.AndEziohadn’thadtowaitforpermissionfromsomebureaucrattoseethem.Heidentifiedallthelandmarkstheyoungmanhadintroducedhimtofromthedeckofthebaghlah,usingtheopportunitytofamiliarizehimselffurtherwiththecity’slayout.Butanotherpartofhismindjustdrankinitsbeautyinthered-goldlightofthesettingsun,thelightremindinghimofthecolorofthehairofthatbeautifulwomanwho’dbeenhisfellowpassengerandwho’dlookedrightthroughhim.“WelcometoIstanbul,Mentor,”saidYusuf,watchinghisface.“The
CrossroadsoftheWorld.”“Icanseenowwhytheycallitthat.”“Manygenerationsofmenhaveruledthiscity,buttheyhaveneversubdued
her.Whateveryokeisplacedonherneck,whateverneglectorpillageisvisitedonher,shealwaysbouncesback.”“Itseemsafineplacetocallhome.”“Itis.”Yusufsteppedtotheedgeofthetowerafteranotherminuteortwo,looked
down,thenturnedtoEzioagain.“Raceyoutothebottom?”heasked,and,withoutwaitingforareply,threwhimselffromtheparapetinanastoundingLeapofFaith.Eziowatchedhimplummet,likeahawkstooping,andlandsafelyinahay
wainhe’dalreadysingledout,175feetbelow.Hesighed,pausingamomentlongertostareatthecityspreadoutbeneathhim,inwonder.TheGreatCity.TheFirstCity.TheheiressofAncientRome.Constantinoplewasathousandyears
oldandhadbeenhometohundredsofthousandsofcitizensatatime,inthenot-too-distantpast,whenRomeandFlorenceweremerevillagesbycomparison.Shehadbeenplunderedandravaged,andheknewthelegendarybeautyofthepastwasgoneforever;butshehadalwaysawedherattackersandthosewhosoughttoreduceher;and,asYusufhadsaid,shehadnevertrulybeensubdued.Eziolookedaroundonelasttime,scanningthewholehorizonwithhiskeen
eyes.Hefoughtdownthedeepsadnessthatfilledhisheart.Then,inturn,hemadehisownLeapofFaith.
TWENTY
Thefollowingmorning,EzioandYusufsatinthecourtyardoftheAssassinheadquarters,poringoverplansspreadonatable,chartingtheirnextmove.TherewasnodoubtintheirmindsthatcouriersfromtheTemplarsatMasyafwouldverysoonarriveinthecity,iftheyhadnotdonesoalready,andthataconcertedTemplarattackmustbeanticipated.“It’slikeahydra,theTemplarorganization.”Eziobrooded.“Cutoneheadoff,
andtwogrowback.”“NotinRome,Mentor.You’veseentothat.”Eziowassilent.Withhisthumb,hetriedtheedgeofthehookbladehewas
oiling.“Iamcertainlyimpressedbythisweapon,Yusuf.MybrothersinRomewouldprofitfromhavingthemaspartoftheirequipment.”“It’snotaharddesigntocopy,”Yusufreplied.“Justgivecreditwhereit’s
due.”“Ineedmorepractice,”Eziosaid,littlerealizingthathe’dgetit,soonenough,
foratthemoment,thestreetdoorburstopenbeforeAzizehadtimetoreachit,andKasim,oneofYusuf’slieutenants,rushedin,hiseyeswild.“Yusufbey—comequickly!”Yusufwasonhisfeetinaninstant.“What’sgoingon?”“Anattackontwofronts!OurDensinGalataandattheGrandBazaar.”“Itneverstops,”Yusufsaid,angrily.“Everyday,thesamebadnews.”He
turnedtoEzio.“Couldthisbethebigattackyoufear?”“Ihavenowayofknowing,butitmustbedealtwith.”“Ofcourse.Howisyourappetiteforswordplay?”“Ithinkyouknowtheanswertothat.IdowhatImust.”“Goodman!It’stimetoputyourhookbladetosomerealuse!Let’sgo!”
TWENTY-ONE
Innotimeatall,theyweresprintingacrosstherooftopsinthedirectionoftheGalataDen.Astheygrewclose,theydescendedtothestreetinordertobelessconspicuoustoByzantinecrossbowmen.Buttheyfoundtheirwayblockedbyaunitofheavilyarmedmercenaries,whoorderedthem,menacingly,toturnback.Theypretendedtoretreatafewpaces,conferringtogether.“Useyourhookblade,Mentor,”saidYusuf.“There’sasurewaytogetpast
thesethugswiththemaximumofspeedandtheminimumoffuss.”“Soundsgoodtome.”“Watch.Wecallitahook-and-roll.”Withoutmoreado,Yusufturnedbacktothelineofmenspreadoutacrossthe
street,facingthem.Heselectedoneandrantowardhimatsuchgreatspeedthat,beforethemanoranyofhiscompanionscouldreact,heleaptintotheairimmediatelyinfrontofhistarget,projectinghisbodyforwardwithhishookbladeunleashedandhisrightarmplungingdown,readytostickthehookinthebackoftheman’sbelt.Followingthrough,Yusufdidasomersaultovertheman,releasinghisbladeashedidso,andcarriedonatspeedawayfromthedumfoundedmercenaries.Beforetheyhadtimefullytoregroup,EziofollowedYusuf’slead,managingashesomersaultedoverhismantograbhimbytheneckandwrestlehimtotheground,landedsomefeetbehindhim,andranontojoinhiscompanion.Butthereweremoreguardsaheadtodealwith,andindoingso,Eziopicked
upanothertechniquefromhisSeljukfriend.Thistime,Yusufswungthehooklow,stoopingasheapproachedhistarget,andwrappedhisweaponroundoneofhisopponent’sankles,fellinghimashesweptpast.Onceagain,Eziocopiedthemoves,andhadsooncaughtupwiththeleaderoftheIstanbulAssassins.“Andthat’swhatwecallahook-and-run.”Yusufgrinned.“ButIcansee
you’reanatural.Excellentwork.”“Ialmoststumbledbackthere.Needtoimprove.”“You’llgetplentyofpractice.”“Lookout,herecomemoreofthem!”Theywereattheintersectionoffourstreets,emptynowthatthefightinghad
causedtheordinarycitizenstofleeinsidethebuildingsandshutthedoors
behindthem.Buttheywerecornered—largeunitsofByzantineswerethunderingtowardthemfromeachquarter.“Whatnow?”saidEzio,drawinghisswordandreleasinghisleft-handhidden-
blade.“Putthoseaway,Mentor.Whenhetiresofrunning,anAssassinaroundhere
takestotheair.”EzioquicklyfollowedYusufashescaledthenearestwall,usinghishookto
aidhim,withincreasingskill.Onceontherooftopsagain,Ezionoticedthat,inthisarea,manyweretoppedwithstoutverticalwoodenposts,fromwhichtarredropes,stretchedtaut,ledupwardanddownwardtootherpostsonotherrooftops,connectedbyaseriesofpulleysandblocksandtackle.Suchapoststoodontheirroof,nexttowheretheywerestanding.“Weintroducedthissystemtotransportgoodsabout,fromwarehouseto
warehouse,fromwarehousetoshop,”explainedYusuf.“Youcanfinditinvariousdistrictsalloverthecity.It’salotquickerthanusingthestreets,whicharetoonarrowandusuallycrowded.Andit’salotquickerforus,too.”Eziolookeddownbelow,towheretheByzantinesweretryingtobreakinto
thebuildingwhichtheywerestandingon.Tooheavilyarmoredtoclimb,they’ddecidedtocomeatthemfromtheinterior.“We’dbetterhurry.”“Youuseyourhookbladeforthis,too,”saidYusuf.“Justhookittoarope,
hangontight,andletgo—ofcourse,itonlyworksdownhill!”“I’mbeginningtoseewhyyoudevelopedthisweapon—it’sperfectfor
Constantinople.”“Youcansaythatagain.”Yusufcastaglancedowntothestreetbelowinhis
turn.“Butyou’reright—wemustmakehaste.”Briefly,hescannedthesurroundingrooftops.Aboutthreehundredfeetaway,ontheroofofabuildingdownhillfromwheretheywere,hespottedaByzantinescout,hisbacktothem,keepingalookoutoverthecity,whichspreaditselfbelowhim.“Seethatguy?”Yusufsaid.“Yes.”“Andthere’sanother,justoverthere,totheleft—onaconnectingroof.”“Gothim.”“We’regoingtotakethemout.”Yusufextendedhishookbladeandnotchedit
overtherope.HeraisedawarninghandasEziowasabouttodothesame.“Donotfollowmeimmediately.Allowmetoshowyou.”“Iamgladtolearnthecustomsofthecountry.”
“Wecallthisazipline.Watch!”Yusufwaiteduntilthesecondscoutwaslookinginanotherdirection,thenlet
theropetakehisweight.Itstrainedslightly,butheld.Thenheswunghisbodyclear,andinamomenthewassailingsilentlydowntheropetowardtheunsuspectingfirstscout.Atthelastmoment,heunhookedhisbladeanddroppedthelastfewfeetontohistarget,swingingthebladeroundtosliceintotheman’sside.Hecaughtthescout’sfallingbodyandlowereditgentlytothegroundbeforesteppingquicklybehindthecoverofasmalloutbuildingontheroof.Fromthere,heletoutastrangledcry.Thisalertedthesecondscout,whoturnedquicklytolookinthedirectionfrom
whichthesoundhadcome.“Help,comrade!Assassins!”Yusufcalled,usingGreek,inananguished
voice.“Standfast!I’mcoming!”thesecondscoutcalledback,racingacrosstheroof
totheaidofhisfellow.Atthatmoment,YusufbeckonedtoEzio,whorocketeddowntheropeinhis
turn,intimetodropfatallyontothesecondscout,bythattimekneelingnexttothebodyofhisfallencompanion.Yusufjoinedhimbythetwobodies.“Youdidn’tevenbreakasweat,”Yusuf
said,chuckling.Thenheimmediatelybecameserious,andcontinued,“Icanseeyoucanlookafteryourself,soIthinkit’stimewesplitup.I’dbetterheadtotheBazaarandseewhat’shappeningatourDenthere.YougoontoGalata,tohelpthemthere.”“Tellmetheway.”Yusufpointedacrosstherooftops.“Youseethetower?”“Yes.”“TheDen’srightbyit.Ican’tbeintwoplacesatonce,butnowyou’rehere,I
don’thavetobe.ThankAllahyoucame,Mentor.Withoutyourhelp...”“You’vedoneallrightsofar.”Yusuftookhishand.“Haydirastgele—Ezio.Goodluck!”“Goodlucktoyou,too.”YusufturnedsouthwhileEzioranovertherusset-coloredtilesoftherooftops
untilhefoundanotherropesystem.Sailingquicklyandunopposedfromholdingposttoholdingpost,andtravelingalotfasterthanhewouldhavedoneonfoot,hequicklymadehiswaydownwardtowardthetower’sbase,andhisnextbattle.
TWENTY-TWO
EzioarrivedduringalullinthefightingandmanagedtoslipintotheDenwithoutbeingseen.There,hewasgreetedbyDogan,oneoftheAssassinlieutenantshehadbrieflymetearlier.“Mentor,itisanhonor.IsYusufnotwithyou?”“No—they’vemountedanotherattack—onourDenbytheGrandBazaar.
He’sonhiswaytherenow.”Eziopaused.“Whatisthesituationhere?”Doganwipedhisbrow.“We’vebeatenbackthevanguard,butthey’rejust
fallenbacktowaitforreinforcements.”“Areyourmenreadyforthem?”DogangaveEzioawrysmile,encouragedbytheMentor’senthusiasmand
confidence.“Nowyou’rehere,theyare!”“Where’sthenextattacklikelytocomefrom?”“Thenorthside.Theythinkthat’stheweakest.”“Thenwe’dbettermakesureit’sthestrongest!”DoganredeployedhisAssassinsaccordingtoEzio’sinstructions,andbythe
timetheTemplarslaunchedtheircounterattack,theywerereadyforthem.Thefightwasasfierceasitwasshort,leavingfifteenTemplarmercenariesdeadinthesquarenearthetowerwheretheDenwaslocated.TheAssassintroopcountedtwomenandonewomanwounded,butnofatalities.IthadbeenaroutoftheTemplars.“Theywillnotbebacksoon,”DogantoldEziowhenitwasallover.“Let’shopeso.FrommyexperienceoftheTemplars,theydonotliketobe
bested.”“Well,iftheytryitagainaroundhere,they’llhavetolearntolivewithit.”EziosmiledandclappedDoganontheshoulder.“That’sthekindoftalkIlike
tohear!”Hemadetotakehisleave.“Wherewillyougonow?”askedDogan.“I’mgoingtojoinYusufattheDenoftheGrandBazaar.Sendwordtome
thereiftheTemplarsdoregroup.”“Inthatunlikelyevent,youwillbethefirsttoknow.”“Andtendtoyourwounded.Thatsergeantofyourstookabadcuttothe
head.”“Itisbeingattendedtoaswespeak.”“CanIgettherebyusingtheziplinesystem?”“OnceyoureachthesouthbankoftheHorn.Butyoumustcrossthatbyferry.
It’sthefastestwaytothepeninsula.”“Ferry?”“Therewastohavebeenabridge,butforsomereasonitwasneverbuilt.”“Ahyes,”saidEzio.“Iremembersomebodymentioningthat.”Heputouthis
hand.“Allahaismarladik,”hesaid.“Gülegüle.”Dogansmiledback.
TheDenEzioneededtoreachwaslocatednotfarfromtheBazaar,intheImperialDistrict,betweentheBazaaritselfandtheancientchurchofHaghiaSofia,nowconvertedbytheOttomansintoamosque.ButthefightingEzioreachedwastakingplaceashortdistancetothe
southwest,closetothedocksonthesouthernshoresofthecity.Hestoodforamomentonarooftop,observingthebattle,whichwasinfullspateinthestreetsandonthequaysbelowhim.AropefromawoodenstakenearhimstretcheddowntoapointnearwherehecouldseeYusuf,hisbacktothewatersofthedock,inthethickofthefray.Yusufwasfendingoffahalfdozenburlymercenaries,andhiscompanionsweretoobusythemselvestocometohisaid.Eziohookedontotheropeandswoopeddown,jumpingfromtheropeataheightoftwelvefeetandspread-eaglinghimself,left-handhidden-bladeextended,tolandonthebacksoftwoofYusuf’sattackers,sendingthemsprawling.Theyweredeadbeforetheycouldreact,andEziostoodoverthemastheremainingfourintheirgroupturnedtofacehim,givingYusufenoughrespitetoedgeroundtotheirflank.Eziokepthishookbladeextended.AsthefourTemplartroopersfellroaringonEzio,Yusufrushedthemfromthe
side,hisownhidden-bladebroughtquicklyintoplay.OnehugesoldierwasalmostuponEzio,havingbackedhimupagainstawarehousewall,whenherememberedthehook-and-rolltechniqueandusedittoescapefrom,andfell,hisopponent,stabbingtheman’swrithingbodywithhishidden-bladetodeliverthecoupdegrace.Meanwhile,Yusufhaddispatchedtwooftheothers,whilethesurvivortooktohisheels.Elsewhere,fiercefightingwassimmeringdownasYusuf’sbrigadegotthe
betteroftheTemplars,whofinallyfled,cursing,intothedepthsofthecitytothenorth.“Gladyouarrivedintimetomeetmynewplaymates,”saidYusuf,wipingand
sheathinghissword,andretractinghishidden-blade,asEziodidlikewise.“Youfoughtlikeatiger,myfriend,likeamanlateforhisown—wedding.”“Doyounotmeanfuneral?”“Youwouldnotmindbeinglateforthat.”“Well,ifwe’retalkingaboutawedding,I’mtwenty-fiveyearslatealready.”
Eziopushedthefamiliardarkeningmoodasideandsquaredhisshoulders.“DidIarriveintimetosavetheBazaarDen?”Yusufshruggedregretfully.“Alas,no.We’veonlymanagedtosaveourown
skins.TheBazaarDenistaken.Unfortunately,Iarrivedtoolatetoregainit.Theyweretoowellentrenched.”“Don’tdespair.TheGalataDenissafe.TheAssassinsweusedtherecanjoin
ushere.”Yusufbrightened.“Withmy‘army’doubledinsize,we’lltaketheBazaar
backtogether!Come!Thisway!”
TWENTY-THREE
Theymadetheirwaythroughthemarketstreetsandthemassive,glitteringmazeofthesoukitself,thesplendid,frenetic,gold-and-redGrandBazaar,withitsmyriadlanesoflittleshopssellingeverythingfromscentstospicestosheepskinstocostlyPersiancarpetsfromIsfahanandKabul,cedarwoodfurniture,swordsandarmor,brassandsilvercoffeepotswithsnakingspoutsandelongatednecks,tulip-shapedglassesforteaandlarger,slenderonesforsharbat—acornucopiasellingeverythingintheworldamancouldimagineordesire,amidababeloftraders’voicesraisedinatleastadozendifferentlanguages.Oncethey’dpassedoutofthenortheasternside,theycametostreetsnearer
theDen.Here,theTemplarpresencewasstrong.Thebuildingswerehungwiththeirbanners,andthemerchantswhodidbusinessthere,Eziocouldsee,werenotinfrequentlybeingharassedorotherwisebulliedbyByzantinetoughs.“Asyoucansee,”Yusufwastellinghim,“whentheTemplarstakeovera
district,theyliketoflauntit.It’saconstantbattletokeepthematbay;theylikenothingbetterthantorubournosesineveryvictorytheyenjoy.”“Butwhydoesthesultandonothing?Thisishiscity!”“SultanBayezidisfaraway.Therearen’tenoughOttomanresourcesforthe
governorheretokeepmattersincheck.Ifitweren’tforus...”Yusuftrailedoff,thencontinued,followinganothertrainofthought.“Thesultanisatwarwithhisson,Selim,manyleaguesnorthwestofthecity.He’sbeenawayforyears,atleastsincethegreatearthquakein1509,andevenbeforethathewasalmostalwaysabsent.Heisblindtoallthisturmoil.”“Theearthquake?”EziorememberednewsofthatreachingRome.Overa
hundredmosqueshadbeenreducedtorubble,alongwithathousandotherbuildings,andtenthousandcitizenshadlosttheirlives.“Youshouldhaveseenit.WecalledittheLesserDayofJudgment.Thehuge
wavesitcausedintheSeaofMarmaraalmostbroughtdownthesouthernwalls.Butthesultan’seyesremainedclosed,eventothatwarning.”“Ah,butyoureyesareopen,sì?”“Liketwofullmoons.Believeme.”Theyhadreachedalargeopenkaresi,throngedwithTemplarmercenaries,
whobegantoeyethemsuspiciouslyastheycrossedthesquare.
“Toomanytoengagedirectly,”Yusufsaid.“We’dbetteruseoneofthese.”Hedelvedintothepouchathissideandproducedabomb.“What’sthat—asmokebomb?”Eziosaid.“Hmn.I’mnotconfidentthatthat
willhelpushere.”Yusuflaughed.“Smokebomb?DearEzio—Mentor—it’sreallyhightimeyou
Italiansjoinedthesixteenthcentury.Thesebombsdonotobscure—theydistract.Watch.”EziostoodbackasYusufthrewthebombsomedistanceawayfromhim.It
explodedharmlessly,butsentashowerofsmall,apparentlygold,coinsintotheair,whichraineddownoverthemercenaries.TheirattentionwasimmediatelydistractedfromEzioandYusufastheyhurriedtopickupthecoins,shoulderingasidetheciviliansaroundwhotriedtojoinin.“Whatwasthat?”askedEzioinastonishment,astheycontinuedontheirway,
nowinnofearofmolestation.Yusufsmiledcraftily.“That’swhatwecallaGoldBomb.It’sfilledwithcoins
madeofpyrite—theylookexactlylikegoldcoinsbutareverycheaptoproduce.”Eziowatchedthetroopersscatter,oblivioustoanythingbuttheFool’sGold.“Yousee?”saidYusuf.“Theycan’tresist.Butlet’sgetamoveonbefore
they’vepickedthemallup.”“Youarefullofsurprisestoday.”“Craftingexplosivesisanewhobbyofours,onewe’veborrowedfromthe
Chinese.We’vetakentoitwithgreatpassion.”“I’mobviouslygettingrusty.Butafriendofmineoncemademesomebombs,
inSpain,longago,soIknowsomethingofthesubject.You’llhavetoteachmethenewtechniques.”“Gladly—butwhoistheMentorhere,Ezio?I’mbeginningtowonder.”“That’senoughofyourcheek,Assassin!”Eziogrinned,clappingYusufonthe
shoulder.Anarrowstreetthey’dbeenpassingalonggavewaytoanothersquare,and
there,again,inthatTemplar-infesteddistrict,wasanotherlargegroupofByzantinemercenaries.They’dheardthecommotionfromtheadjoiningkaresiandwerelookingrestive.YusufdrewahandfulofsmallbombsfromhispouchandhandedthemtoEzio.“Yourturn,”hesaid.“Makemeproud.Thewind’sbehindus,soweshouldbeallright.”TheByzantineswerealreadymakingforthetwoAssassinsanddrawingtheir
swords.Eziopulledthepinsofthethreebombsinhishandsandthrewthem
towardtheoncomingmercenaries.Theyexplodedonimpactwiththegroundwithlittle,harmless-soundingpops,andforamomentitlookedasifnothingelsehadhappened.ButthentheTemplartroopshesitatedandlookedateachother,gagginganddabbingattheiruniforms,whichwerecoveredwithastinking,viscousliquid.Quickly,theybeataretreat.“Theretheygo,”saidYusuf.“It’llbedaysbeforetheirwomenwilltakethem
backintotheirbeds.”“Anotherofyoursurprises?”“Thosewereskunk-oilbombs.Veryeffectiveifyoujudgeyourmomentand
keepoutoftheprevailingwind!”“Thanksforthewarning.”“Whatwarning?”“Exactly.”“Hurry.We’renearlythere.”They’dcrossedthekaresiintoanotherstreet,broaderthistimebutlinedwith
whatlookedlikedboarded-upshops.Yusufpausedatoneofthemandpushedcautiouslyatitsdoor,whichswungopen.Beyonditwasasmall,plaincourtyard,afewbarrelsandpackingcasesstackedupalongthefarwall.Inthemiddlewasanopentrapdoor,withstonestepsleadingdownfromit.Atowerrosefromtherearleft-handcornerofthecourtyard.“AsIthought,”saidYusuf.HeturnedtoEzioandspokeurgently.“Thisisone
ofourundergroundDens.Itlooksdeserted,Iknow,butbelow,theTemplarswillhaveitwellguarded.Amongtheirrabblethere’saTemplarcaptain.MayIaskyoutofindhimandkillhim?”“I’llgetyourhideoutbackforyou.”“Good.Whenyou’vedoneso,climbthattowerandsetoffthesignalflare
you’llfindthere.It’sanotheroneofourbombs,andit’sacopyoftheflarestheTemplarsusetosignalaretreat.”“Andyou?”“Itwon’ttakethoseTemplarsinthesquarelongtorealizewhat’shappened,
soI’llgobackandfindawayofstoppingthemfromfollowingushereandtryingtoreinforcetheirfriends.I’vegotacoupleofphosphorusbombsclippedtomytunicbelt.Theyshoulddothetrick.”“Soyoudostilluseold-fashionedsmokescreens?”Yusufnodded.“Yes,buttheseareprettynasty,so—”Hedrewascarfoverhis
noseandmouth.“AndbeforeIgo,there’sonemorelittletrickupmysleeve,whichshouldbringtherabbitsoutoftheirhole—Iwouldn’twantyoutogo
downtotheDenandfightthosethugsinsemidarkness.Oncethey’vesurfaced,youshouldbeabletopickthemoffwithouttoomuchtrouble.”Fromhispouch,heproducedafinalbomb,andhefteditforamoment.“I’llsetthisoffnow,thenbeonmyway.We’vegottoneutralizebothgroupsofTemplarssimultaneously,orwe’llbelost.Justcoveryourears—thisisacherrybomb,andit’spackedwithsulfur,soit’llmakeanoiselikeathunderclap.It’llbringthemupallright,butIdon’twantyoutoburstyoureardrums.”Eziodidashewasbidden,movingbacktoastrategicpositionontheshady
sideofthecourtyard,withagoodviewofthetrapdoor.Heexchangedhisleft-handhidden-bladeforhisadaptedpistolharness,preferringtoretainthehookbladeforclosecombat.Yusuf,nearthestreet,threwhischerrybombtothefarsideofthecourtyard,anddisappeared.TherewasanoiseasloudastheDevil’sFart,andEzio,thoughhe’dcovered
hisearsbeneathhishoodfirmly,stillhadtheaftershockinhishead.Heshookittoclearit,andashedidso,tenTemplars,ledbyaruddy-nosedcaptain,burstfromthetrapdoorintothesunlight,lookingaroundtheminpanic.Eziomovedinswiftlyandhadcutthreedownbeforethey’dhadtimetoreact.Usinghishookblade,hewasabletokillanotherthreeinthenextminuteofcombat.Threemoreranoff,astheyheardthesoundoftwomoreexplosions,followedshortlyafterwardbythefaintsmellofsmokeinthebreeze.“Perfecttiming,Yusuf,”murmuredEziotohimself.ThecaptainofthecohortstoodandconfrontedEzio.Abrawny,walleyedman
withwell-usedblackshoulderarmoroverhisdarkredtunic,heheldaheavyDamascusinhisrighthandandawicked-lookingcurveddagger,withabarbedpoint,inhisleft.“Ripandslit,”saidthecaptaininahoarsevoice.“Ihookyouinwiththe
daggerandslityourthroatwiththesword.You’reasgoodasdead,Assassin.”“It’sreallyhightimeyouTemplarsjoinedthesixteenthcentury,”repliedEzio,
raisinghisleftarmandspringinghispistolintohishand.Hefired,thinkingthatatthatrangehereallycouldn’tmiss,evenleft-handed,and,sureenough,theballsankintothebonestraightbetweenthecaptain’seyes.ThecaptainwasstillsinkingtohiskneesasEziosprangacrossthecourtyard,
leaptontooneofthebarrelsforpurchase,andusedthehookbladetosurgetothetopofthetower.TheflareYusufhadtoldhimofhadnotbeendiscoveredordisturbed.There
wasalittlemortar,andEzioloadedtheflareintoit.Amomentlater,itstreakedhighintothesky,trailingavividstreakofflameandvioletsmoke.
Bythetimehereachedthefootofthetoweragain,Yusufwaswaitingforhim.“NowonderyouareourMentor,”saidtheSeljukAssassin.“Youcouldnot
havetimedthatbetter.”Hebeamedintriumph.“TheTemplarsarewithdrawingonallfronts.”
TWENTY-FOUR
TheBazaarDenwasremarkablyneatandtidy,givenitsrecentoccupationbytheTemplars.“Anydamage?”EzioaskedYusuf,ashisTurkishcomradestaredatthe
ceiling.“NotthatIcansee.ByzantineTemplarsmaybebadhosts,buttheyaredecent
tenants.Oncetheycapturealocation,theyliketokeepitintact.”“Becausetheyintendtostay?”“Exactly!”Yusufrubbedhishands.“Wemusttakeadvantageofourlittle
victoriestoprepareyoufurtherforthefightagainstourGreekfriends,”hesaid.“I’veshownyouhowtousesomeofourbombs.Butit’llbeevenbetterifyouknowhowtomakethem.”“Istheresomeoneherewhocanteachme?”“Ofcourse!Themasterhimself!PiriReis.”“PiriReisis...oneofus?”“Inamannerofspeaking.Helikestokeephimselfaloof.Buthe’scertainlyon
ourside.”“Ithoughthewasmoreofamapmaker,”saidEzio,rememberingthemapof
Cyprushe’dbeengivenbyMa’Mun.“Mapmaker,seafarer,pirate—thoughthesedayshe’srisingswiftlythrough
theranksoftheOttomanNavy—he’saprettygoodall-arounder.AndheknowsIstanbul—Kostantiniyye—likethebackofhishand.”“Good—becausethere’ssomethingI’dliketoaskhimaboutthecitythathe
mayknow.Apartfromhowtomakebombs.WhencanImeethim?”“Notimelikethepresent.Andwedon’thaveanytolose.Areyouallright
afterthatlittleskirmish?Needsomerest?”“No.”“Good!I’lltakeyoutohimnow.Hisworkroomisn’tfarfromhere.”
PiriReis—AdmiralPiri—hadasmallsetofsecond-story,open-planroomsonthenorthsideoftheGrandBazaar,whosetallwindowsthrewacold,clearlight
onthehandfulofmaptablesneatlyarrangedontheteakfloorsofacrampedstudio.EquallyneatlyspreadoutonthetablesweremapsofagreaternumberandvarietythanEziohadeverseenbefore,and,seatedbythem,ahandfulofassistantswerediligentlyworkinginsilence.Thewesternandsouthernwallsoftheworkroomwerefestoonedwithmoremaps,allneatlypinnedupandsquared-offtooneanother.Fivelargeglobes,oneineachcornerandoneinthecenteroftheroom,completedthepicture.Theglobeswerealsoworksinprogress,andfreshlyinked-inareasshowedthelatestdiscoveriesadded.Thewesternwallwasalsocoveredwithdetailedtechnicaldrawings,expertly
accomplished—butthesewere,asEziosawataglance,designsforbombs.Hewasabletoreadenough,ashepassedthroughtheroomtowardwherePirisat,toseethatthebombdrawingsweredividedintocategories:Lethal,Tactical,Diversionary,andSpecialCasings.Analcoveinthewallwasbigenoughtocontainaworktable,andbehindit,arrangedwithprecision,anumberofmetalworkers’toolswereplacedonshelves.ThiswasquiteacontrasttothechaosinwhichLeonardolovedtowork,Ezio
thought,smilingtohimselfatthememoryofhisfriend.YusufandEziofoundPirihimselfatworkatalargedraftingtabledirectly
underthewindows.SixorsevenyearsyoungerthanEzio,hewasatanned,weather-beaten,healthy,androbustfigureofaman,wearingabluesilkturban,underwhichastrongface,currentlybearinganexpressionofintenseconcentration,lookedoutattheworkthroughpiercing,cleargreyeyes.Hisluxuriantbrownbeardwasneatlytrimmed,thoughwornlong,coveringthecollarofthehigh-necked,silverbrocadetunichewore,withbaggybluetrousersandplainwoodenclogs.HegaveEzioanappraisingglance,whichEzioreturned,asYusufmadethe
introductions.“What’syournameagain?”saidPiri.“Ezio.EzioAuditoredaFirenze.”“Ahyes.IthoughtforamomentYusufsaid‘Lothario.’Didn’thearthe
difference.”HelookedatEzio,andEziocouldhavesworntherewasatwinkleinhiseye.HadEzio’sreputation—inonedepartmentatleast—precededhim?Hethoughthewasgoingtolikethisman.“Ihaveseenyourwork—yourmaps,anyway,”Eziobegan.“Ihadacopyof
theoneyoumadeforCyprus.”“Didyou?”repliedthesailor,gruffly.Clearly,hedidn’tlikehavinghiswork
interrupted.Oratleastthatwastheimpressionhewantedtogive.
“ButitisanotheraspectofyourexpertiseIhavecometoseekyouradviceabouttoday.”“Thatwasagoodmap,theoneofCyprus,”saidPiri,ignoringEzio’sremark.
“ButI’veimproveditsince.Showmeyours.”Eziohesitated.“Idon’thaveitanymore,”heconfessed.“Igaveit—toafriend
ofmine.”Pirilookedup.“Verygenerousofyou,”hesaid.“Doyouknowwhatmymaps
areworth?”“Indeed.ButIowedthatmanmylife.”Eziohesitatedagain.“He’saseaman,
likeyourself.”“Hmn.What’shisname?Imighthaveheardofhim.”“He’saMamluk.GoesbythenameofAl-Scarab.”Pirisuddenlybeamed.“Thatoldrogue!Well,Ihopeheputsittogooduse.At
leastheknowsbetterthantotryanythingonus.”ThenheturnedhiseyeonYusuf.“Yusuf!Whatareyoudoingstillstanding
there?Don’tyouhaveanythingbettertodo?Takeyourselfoffandleaveyourfriendwithme.I’llseethathehaseverythingheneeds.AnyfriendofAl-Scarabisafriendofmine!”Yusufgrinnedandtookhisleave.“IknewI’dbeleavingyouinsafehands,”
hesaidasheleft.Whentheywerealone,Piribecamemoreserious.“Iknowwhoyouare,Ezio,
andIhaveaprettygoodideawhyyouarehere.Willyoutakesomerefreshment?There’scoffee,ifyoulikeit.”“Ihaveacquiredatasteforitatlast.”“Good!”Piriclappedhishandsatoneofhisassistants,whonoddedandwent
tothebackoftheworkshop,toreturnsoonafterwardwithabrasstrayholdingaserpentinepot,withminutecups,andadishofsoftamber-coloredsweetmeats,whichEziohadnevertastedbefore.“IrememberAl-Scarabfrommyownprivateeringdays,”Pirisaid.“We
foughtsidebysideatbothbattlesofLepantoadozenyearsagoorso,undertheflagofmyuncleKemal.Nodoubtyou’veheardofhim?”“Yes.”“TheSpaniardsfoughtusliketigers,butIdidn’tthinksomuchofthe
GenoeseortheVenetians.You’reaFlorentine,yourself,aren’tyou?”“Yes.”“Soyou’realandlubber.”“Myfamilywerebankers.”
“Onthesurface,yes!Butsomethingfarmorenobleunderneath.”“Asyouknow,bankingdoesnotruninmybloodasseafaringdoesinyours.”Pirilaughed.“Wellsaid!”Hesippedhiscoffee,wincingasheburnedhislips.
Thenheeasedhimselfoffhisstoolandstretchedhisshoulders,layingdownhispen.“Andthat’squiteenoughsmalltalk.Iseeyou’realreadylookingatthedrawingsI’mworkingon.Makeanysenseofthem?”“Icanseethey’renotmaps.”“Isitmapsyou’reafter?”“Yesandno.ThereisonethingIwanttoaskyou—aboutthecity—beforeI
talkaboutanythingelse.”Pirispreadhishands.“Goahead.”EziotookNiccolòPolo’sbook,TheSecretCrusade,outofhissidewallet,and
showedittoPiri.“Interesting,”saidtheseaman.“OfcourseIknowallaboutthePolos.Read
Marco’sbook.Exaggeratesabit,ifyouaskme.”“ItookthisfromaTemplaratMasyaf.Yusufknowsofitandofitscontents.”“Masyaf?Soyouhavebeenthere.”“ItmentionsthefivekeystoAltaïr’slibrary.Frommyreadingofit,Iseethat
AltaïrentrustedthekeystoNiccolò,andthathebroughtthemhereandconcealedthem.”“AndtheTemplarsknowthis?Soit’saraceagainsttime.”Ezionodded.“They’vealreadyfoundone,hiddeninthecellarsoftheTopkapi
Palace.Ineedtorecoveritandfindtheotherfour.”“So—wherewillyoubegin?”“DoyouknowthelocationofthePolos’oldtradingposthere?”Pirilookedathim.“Icantellyouexactlywhereitwas.Comeoverhere.”He
ledthewaytowherealarge,immenselydetailedmapofConstantinoplehungonthewallinaplaingoldframe.Hepeeredatitforaninstant,thentappedaspotwithhisindexfinger.“It’sthere.JusttothewestofHaghiaSofia.Nodistancefromhere.Why?Isthereaconnection?”“IhaveahunchIneedtofollow.”Pirilookedathim.“Thatisavaluablebook,”hesaid,slowly.“Yes.Veryvaluable,ifI’mright.”“Well,justmakesureitdoesn’tfallintothewronghands.”Hewassilentforalongmoment,thinking.“Becarefulwhenyoufindthe
Polos’oldtradingpost,”hesaid.“Youmayfindmorethanyoubargainforthere.”
“Doesthatremarkbegaquestion?”“Ifitdoes,itisaquestiontowhichIhavenoanswer.Ijustaskyoutobe
wary,myfriend.”EziohesitatedbeforetakingPirifurtherintohisconfidence.“Ithinkmyquest
willstartinthatplace.Iamsuretheremustbesomethinghiddentherethatwillgivememyfirstclue.”“Itispossible,”Pirisaid,givingnothingaway.“Butheedmywarning.”Thenhebrightened,rubbinghishandsvigorously,asiftochaseaway
demons.“Andnowthatwe’vesettledthatmatter,whatelsecanIhelpyouwith?”“I’msureyou’veguessed.IamhereonanAssassinmission,perhapsthemost
importantever,andYusuftellsmeyouwouldbepreparedtoshowmehowtomakebombs.Thespecialonesyou’vedevelopedhere.”“Ach,thatYusufhasabigmouth.”ButPirilookedseriousagain.“Icannot
compromisemyposition,Ezio.IamSeniorNavigatorintheSultan’sNavy,andthisismycurrentproject.”Hewavedhishandsatthemaps.Thenhewinked.“Thebombsareasideline.ButIliketohelpmytruefriendsinajustcause.”“Youmayrelyonmydiscretion.AsIhopeImayonyours.”“Good.Followme.”Sosaying,Piriledthewaytothespaciousalcoveonthewestwall.“The
bombsareactuallypartofanavalresearchproject,too,”hecontinued.“Throughmysoldiering,Ihavegainedanappreciationforartilleryandexplosives.AndthathasservedtheAssassinswell.Itgivesusanedge.”Hewavedhishandatthetechnicaldrawings.“Ihavedevelopedmanykinds
ofbombs,andsomearereservedfortheuseofyourBrotherhoodalone.Asyoucansee,theyaredividedintofourmaincategories.Ofcourse,theyareexpensive,buttheBrotherhoodhasalwaysunderstoodthat.”“YusuftoldmetheAssassinshereareshortoffunds.”“Mostgoodcausesusuallyare,”repliedPiri.“ButYusufisalsoresourceful.I
gatheryouknowhowtousetheseweapons?”“Ihadacrashcourse.”Pirilookedathimlevelly.“Good.Well,asYusufevidentlypromisedyou,if
youwanttocraftyourownbombs,Icanshowyou.”Hewentroundthetableandpickeduptwopiecesofstrange-lookingmetal
lyingonit.Ezio,leaningforwardcuriously,reachedforathird.“Ahahah!Don’ttouchthat!”warnedPiri.“OnewrongmoveandBANG!
Thebuildingcomesdown.”
“Areyouserious?”Pirilaughed.“Thelookonyourface!Look,I’llshowyou.”Forthenextfewhours,PiriReistookEziothrougheverybasicstepinvolved
inconstructingeachkindofbombandthematerialsinvolved.Eziolearnedthateachbombcontainedthefundamentalingredientof
gunpowder,butthatnotallweredesignedtobelethal.He’dalreadyhadexperienceoflethalexplosiveswhenattackingCesareBorgia’sfleetinValenciafouryearsearlier,andYusufhadshownhimhowtousediversionarybombswhichcreatedsmokescreens,thunderclaps,appallingodors,andapparentpenniesfromheaven.Pirinowdemonstratedotherapplications.Amongthebombswithlethaleffectwerethoseusingcoaldust,whichaddedaheavyblastingpowertothegunpowder,andfragmentationbombswhoseshrapnelkilledmessilyoverawiderange.Bombscontainingsachetsoflambs’bloodspatteredtheiropponentswithit,causingthemtothinktheyhadbeenwounded,andpanickingthem.Anothertypeofnonlethalexplosive,usefulindelayingpursuers,wasthecaltropbomb,whichshowerednumbersoftwisted-togethernailsinthepathofanoncomingenemy.Perhapsthemostunpleasantwerethebombsthatusedeitherdaturapowderordeadlynightshade.“Daturaanddeadlynightshadearetwoofwhatwecallthewitches’weeds,
alongwithhenbaneandmandrake,”Piriexplained,hisfacegrave.“Idonotliketousethemexceptincasesofgreatextremityanddanger.Whenexplodedinthemidstofanenemy,daturacausesdelirium,derangingthebrain,anddeath.Itisperhapstheworstofall.Deadlynightshadeproducesapoisongas,whichisequallylethal.”“TheTemplarswouldnothesitatetousethemagainstusiftheycould.”“Thatisoneofthemoralparadoxesmankindwillwrestlewithuntilthedayhe
becomestrulycivilized,”repliedPiri.“Isiteviltouseeviltocombatevil?Isagreeingwiththatargumentmerelyasimplejustificationforsomethingnoneofusshouldreallydo?”“Fornow,”saidEzio,“thereisnotleisuretopondersuchquestions.”“You’llfindtheingredientsforthesebombsinlocationsaboutthecity,which
Yusufwilltellyouof,”saidPiri.“Sokeepyoureyesopenandyournosetothegroundasyouroamthestreets.”Eziorosetotakehisleave.Piriextendedawalnutbrownhand.“Comeback
wheneveryouneedmorehelp.”“Ezioshookhandsandwasunsurprisedatthefirmnessofthegrasp.“Ihopewewillmeetagain.”
“Oh,”saidPiriwithanenigmaticsmile.“Ihavenodoubtofit.”
TWENTY-FIVE
FollowingPiriReis’sinstructions,EziomadehiswaythroughtheBazaaroncemore,ignoringtheinsistentblandishmentsofthetradersthere,untilhereachedthequarterwestoftheenormousbulkofHaghiaSofia.Healmostgotlostinthelabyrinthofstreetsandalleywaysarounditbutcameatlasttothespotwhich,hewassure,Pirihadindicatedonhismap.Abookshop.AndaVenetiannameoverthedoor.Heenteredand,tohissurpriseandbarelysuppresseddelight,foundhimself
face-to-facewiththeyoungwomanhehadencounteredonhisvoyagetoConstantinople.Shegreetedhimwarmly,buthesawimmediatelythathewasmerelybeingwelcomedasapotentialcustomer.Therewasnosignofrecognitiononherface.“Buongiorno!Merhaba!”shesaid,switchingautomaticallyfromItalianto
Turkish.“Pleasecomein.”Shewasbusyingherselfamongherstockand,inturning,knockedoverapile
ofbooks.EziosawataglancethatthisshopwastheantithesisofPiriReis’swell-orderedstudio.“Ah!”saidthewoman.“Excusetheclutter.Ihavenothadtimetotidyup
sincemytrip.”“YousailedfromRhodes,no?”Shelookedathiminsurprise.“Sì.Howdidyouknow?”“Wewereonthesameship.”Hebowedslightly.“MynameisAuditore,
Ezio.”“AndIamSofiaSartor.Havewemet?”Eziosmiled.“Wehavenow.MayIlookaround?”“Prego.Mostofmybestvolumesareintheback,bytheway.”Underthepretextoflookingatthebooks,stackedinapparentchaosona
mazeofteeteringwoodenshelves,Eziodelveddeeperintothedarkconfinesoftheshop.“It’snicetomeetanotherItalianinthisdistrict,”Sofiasaid,followinghim.
“MostofuskeeptotheVenetianDistrict,andGalata.”“It’sgoodtomeetyou,too.ButIthoughtthewarbetweenVeniceandthe
OttomanEmpirewouldhavedrivenmostItaliansaway.Afterall,it’sonlyseven
oreightyearsago.”“ButVenicekeptcontrolofherislandsintheWhiteSea,andeveryonecame
toanarrangement,”shereplied.“Atleast,forthemoment.”“Soyoustayed?”Sheshrugged.“IlivedherewithmyparentswhenIwasagirl.True,whenthe
warwason,wewerepushedout,butIalwaysknewIwouldreturn.”Shehesitated.“Whereareyoufrom?”“Florence.”“Ah.”“Isthataproblem?”“No,no.IhavemetsomeveryniceFlorentines.”“There’snoneedtosoundsosurprised.”“Forgiveme.Ifyouhaveanyquestionsaboutthebooks,justask.”“Grazie.”“There’sevenmorestockintherearcourtyardifyou’reinterested.”She
lookedalittlerueful.“MorethanIseemtobeabletosell,tobehonest.”“WhattookyoutoRhodes?”“TheKnightsofRhodesareuneasy.TheyknowtheOttomanshaven’tgiven
uptheideaoftakingtheislandover.Theythinkit’sonlyaquestionoftime.PhilippeVilliersdeL’Isle-Adamwassellingoffpartoftheirlibrary.Soitwasashoppingtrip,ifyoulike.Notverysuccessful,either.Thepricestheywereasking!”“DeL’Isle-AdamisagoodGrandMasterandabraveman.”“Doyouknowhim?”“Onlybyrepute.”Thewomanlookedathimashepokedaround.“Look,niceasitistochatwith
you—areyousureIcannothelp?Youseemabitlost.”Eziodecidedtocomeclean.“Iamnotreallylookingtobuyanything.”“Well,”shereplied,atouchcrisply,“I’mnotgivinganythingawayfree,
Messere.”“Forgiveme.Justbearwithmealittlelonger.Iwillmakeituptoyou.”“How?”“I’mworkingonthat.”“Well,Imustsay—”ButEziosilencedherwithagesture.Hehadmanhandledonebookshelffrom
thebackwallofthecoveredcourtyard.Thewallwasthickerthantheothers,hecouldseethat,andhe’dnoticedacrackinitthatwasn’tacrackatall.
Itwaspartofadoorframe,artfullyconcealed.“Diomio!”exclaimedSofia.“Whoputthatthere?”“Hasanyoneevermovedthesebookshelvesbefore?”“Never.They’vebeeninplacesincebeforemyfathertookovertheshop,and
beforethat,ithadbeenindisuseforyears—decades,even.”“Isee.”Eziobrusheddustanddebrisaccumulatedoverwhatlookedlikefar
morethandecadesawayfromthedoorframebutfoundnohandleoranyothermeansofopeningthedoor.ThenherememberedthesecretdoorthatledtothevaultbackinMonteriggioni,athisuncle’sfortress,andfeltaroundforahiddencatch.Beforelong,thedoorswungopenandinward.Within,stepsthewidthofthewallleddownwardintoblackness.“Thisisincredible,”saidthewoman,peeringoverEzio’sshoulder.He
smelledthesoftscentofherhair,herskin.“Withyourpermission,I’llfindoutwhereitleadsto,”hesaidfirmly.“I’llfetchyousomelight.Acandle.”Shewasbackinmoments,withacandleandatinderbox.“Whoareyou,
Messere?”sheasked,lookingintohiseyes.“Onlythemostinterestingmaninyourlife.”Shesmiled,quickly.“Ah!Presuntuoso!”“Stayhere.Letnooneintotheshop.I’llbebackbeforeyouknowit.”Leavingher,hedescendedthesteps,fromwhosefootatunnelleddeepinthe
earth.
TWENTY-SIX
Eziofoundhimselfinasystemofundergroundcisterns.Bythefeeblelightofthecandle,hecouldmakeoutbarrel-vaultedroofssupportedbyrowuponrowofslendercolumns,decoratedattheircapitalswithavarietyofsymbols,amongwhichEziorecognizedeyes.Attheirbases,someofthem,bizarrely,showedtheinvertedheadsofmonstrousGorgons.Eziorecognizedtheplacehemustbein—theYerebatanSarnici.Thegreat
systemofcisternsbuiltbelowConstantinople.Inhisbook,NiccolòPolomentionedit.Ithadbeenbuiltasawater-filtrationsystembyJustinianathousandyearsearlier.Butknowingthatdidn’tmakeitfeelanylesscreepy.Hewasallbutdauntedatthevast,cavernousspacearoundhim,whichhe
judged,fromtheechoesthesoundhismovementsmade,tobeasgreatasacathedral.ButherememberedthatNiccolòhadgivensomeindicationinTheSecretCrusadeofwhereonekeymightbefound.Thedirectionshadbeendeliberatelyobscure,butEziodecidedtotrytofollowthem,concentratingasheforcedhismindtorememberthedetails.Itwashardtomakenonoiseatall,movingthroughtheshallowwaterthat
coveredthefloorofthecistern,butwithpractice,Eziomanagedtoreducethistoaminimum.Besides,anysoundhemadewassoondrownedoutbythenoiseoftheunsuspectingpeopleheheardupahead.Evidently,hewasnotaloneinhisquest,andheremindedhimselfthat,beforehegotholdofthebook,ithadbeenintheTemplars’possession.Therewerelightsupaheadaswell.Eziodousedhiscandleandcreptforward
towardthem.Soon,hemadeouttheformsoftwoTemplarfootsoldiers,sittingbyasmallfireinadarkpassage.Eziodrewcloser.HisGreekwasgoodenoughtopickupmostofwhattheyweresaying.Theonewhowasspeakingwasinabadmoodandnotafraidtoletitshow.
Indeed,heseemedontheedgeofhysteria.“Tidistihìa!”hewassayinginaggrievedtomes.“Whatmisery!Doyouknowhowlongwe’vebeensearchingthisfilthycistern?”“I’vebeenhereafewweeks,”repliedhisquieterfriend.“That’snothing!Trythirteenmonths!EversinceourGrandMasterfoundthat
damnedkey!”Hecalmedhimselfalittle.“Buthehasn’tgotacluewhathe’s
doing.Allheknows”—thesoldier’stonebecamesarcastic—“isthatthey’re‘somewhereinthecity.’”Hearingthis,theothersoldiergrewmoreexcitedhimself,sounding
overwhelmedattheprospectaheadofthem.“Thisisaverybigcity...”“Iknow!That’swhatIsaidmyself—undermybreath.”Theywereinterruptedbythearrivalofasergeant.“Getonwithyourwork,
youbums!Youthinkyou’repaidtositaroundonyourarsesallday?”Grumbling,themenresumedtheirtask.Ezioshadowedthem,hopingtopick
upmoreinformation.Themenwerejoinedbyahandfulofothersoldiers,similarlybegrimedanddiscontented.ButEziohadtowatchhisstep.Tiredanddisgruntledthesoldiersmighthave
been,buttheywerewelltrained,andvigilant.“Petros!”onecalledtoanother.“Makesurewehaveenoughtorchesforthe
excavation.I’mtiredofstumblingaroundinthedark.”Ezioprickeduphisearsattheword“excavation,”butashemovedforward
again,hisswordscabbardscrapedagainstoneofthecolumns,andthevaultedroofsechoedandamplifiedtheslightsound.ThemancalledPetrosdartedalookbehindhim.“There’ssomeonedownhere
withus!”hehissed.“Keepyoureyesopenandyourhandssteady.”Thetroopswereinstantlyonthealert,urgentlycallingtooneanotherinmuted
voices.“Doyouseeanything?”“Searcheverycorner!”Ezioretreatedfartherintotheshadowsandwaitedpatientlyforthepanicto
diedown.Atthesametime,hemadeamentalnotetobeextracarefulintheexaggeratedacoustic.Gradually,theguardsresumedtheirsearch.Ashewatched,hecouldseethat
theiractionsseemedaimlessandthattheyknewit.Buthecontinuedtowatch,hopingtodetectapattern,listeningtotheirdesultoryconversationashedidso.“Itstinksdownhere.”“Whatdoyouexpect?It’sasewer.”“Icoulduseabreathofair.”“Patience!Shift’supinthreehours!”“Keepitdown,you!”barkedthesergeant,approachingagain.“Andkeepyour
earsopen.TheLordJesusknowswhytheypickedyoulotforadelicatemissionlikethis.”Eziomovedforward,pastthemen,untilhecameuponastoneembankment,
onwhichtwojuniorofficerswerestandingbyabrazier.Helistenedintotheirconversation.“We’reonestepaheadoftheAssassins,Iknowthatmuch,”onewassayingto
theother.“TheGrandMasterhasorderedthatwemakeallhaste.Theymaybecloser
thanwethink.”“Hemusthavehisreasons.Whatdothesekeyslooklikeanyway?”“LiketheonewediscoveredbeneathTopkapi.That’sgottobethe
assumption.”Theotherlieutenantshookhimself.“Eighthoursofthisfilth.Apistefto!”“Iagree.I’veneverbeensoboredinallmylife.”“Yeah.Butwe’reboundtofindthekeyssoon.”“Inyourdreams.”Butthefirstlieutenanttospeakhadsuddenlyglancedroundquickly.“What
wasthat?”“Probablyarat.TheSaviorknows,thereareenoughofthemdownhere.”“Alltheshadowsseemtomove.”“It’sjustthefirelight.”“Someoneisoutthere.Icanfeelit.”“Watchyourself.You’llgomad.”Ezioinchedpastthem,movingasslowlyashecoulddespitewantingtorush,
forhedarednotletthewateraroundhiscalvesmakesomuchasaripple.AtlasthefoundhimselfwellbeyondthetwoofficersandtherestoftheTemplars,feelinghiswayalongthewallofadankcorridor,muchlowerandnarrowerthanthepillaredhallsitledoff.Somehow,itfeltright.AssoonasthelightandnoiseoftheTemplarshaddied
outcompletelybehindhim,hefeltsecureenoughtorelightthecandleanddrewitfromhissidesatchelalongwiththetinderbox,prayingthathewoulddropneitherashejuggledtostrikeasparktolightit.Atlasthewasready.Pausingforamomenttoensurethathewasn’tbeing
followed,hecontinuedalongthecorridorasittwistedandturned,and,tohisconsternation,dividedintoseparate,alternativepassageways.Occasionally,hetookthewrongoneandcameupagainstablankwall.Retracinghisstepstofindtherightwayagain,hebegantowonderifhewerenotinsomekindofmaze.Everdeeperanddarkerhewent,prayinghe’drememberthewayback,andthathecouldtrustthebookshopowner,untilhewasrewardedbyadimglowaheadofhim.Nomorethantheglowofafireflybutenoughtoguidehim.
Hefollowedthepassagewayuntilitopenedoutintoasmallcircularchamber,itsdomedroofallbutlostintheshadowsabove.Halfcolumnsstoodalongthewallsatregularintervals,andtherewasnosoundbutthatofdrippingwater.Inthecenterofthechamberwasasmallstonestand,andonitrestedafolded
map.EzioopeneditandfoundittobeaplanofConstantinople,ininfinitedetail,withthePolobrothers’oldtradingpostclearlymarkedatitscenter.Fourlinesdividedupthemap,andeachdemarcatedsectionshowedalandmarkofthecity.Aroundthemarginsofthemapthetitlesoftwelvebookswerewritten,butof
thesetwelvethetitlesoffourwereplaced,oneeach,nexttoeachdividedsectionofthemap.Thefourbookshadtheirtitlesilluminatedingreen,blue,red,andblack.Eziocarefullyfoldedthemapagainandplaceditinhissatchel.Thenhe
turnedhisattentiontowhatwasplacedatthecenterofthestonestand.Itwasacarved-stonedisc,nomorethanfourinchesacross.Thediskwasthin,
taperingtowarditsouteredges,andmadeofastonethatmighthavebeenobsidian.Itwaspiercedatitsexactcenterbyapreciselycircularhole,halfaninchindiameter.Itssurfacewascoveredwithdesigns,someofwhichEziorecognizedfromtheCodexpagesthathadbeeninhisfatheranduncle’scollection.Asunwhoseraysendedinoutstretchedhandsextendingtowardaworld;strangehumanoidcreaturesofindeterminatesex,withexaggeratedeyes,lips,foreheads,andbellies;whatlookedlikeabstrusemathematicalsymbolsandcalculations.Fromthis,thelightning-bugglowemanated.Carefully,almostreverently,Eziotookitinhishands.Hehadnotexperienced
suchafeelingofawesincehehadlasthandledtheApple,andhealreadyseemedtoknowwhatitwashewashandling.Asheturneditoverinhishands,itsglowintensified.Chesuccede?Eziothought.What’shappening...?Ashewatched,theglowbecameasunburst,fromwhichhehadtoshieldhis
eyes,asthechamberexplodedintoahurricaneoflight.
TWENTY-SEVEN
SomehowEziowasthere,andnotthere.Buthecouldn’tbesureifwasdreamingorhadfallenintosomekindoftrance.Butheknewexactlywhenandwherehewas—itwascenturiesbeforehisown
birth—lateinthetwelfthcentury.ThedateoftheyearofOurLord1189floatedthroughhisconsciousness,ashewalked—ordrifted—throughswirlingcloudsandcrisscrossingraysofunearthlylight,whichpartedatlasttoreveal—atadistance—amightyfortress.Eziorecognizedtheplaceatonce:Masyaf.Thecloudsseemtobearhim
closer.Therewerethesoundsoffiercebattle.Eziosawcavalrymenandinfantrylockedinmortalcombat.Thenthesoundsofahorse’shooves,asitapproachedatfullgallop.AyoungAssassin,dressedinwhite,cowled,ridingfuriouslythroughthescene.Eziowatched—and,ashewatched,seemedtolosehimself—hisown
personality...Somethingwashappeningwhichseemedhalf-recognized,half-remembered;amessagefromapastofwhichheknewnothingyetwithwhichhewastotallyfamiliar...Theyoungmaninwhitecharged,withhissworddrawn,throughthegates,intothemidstoftheskirmish.TwoburlyCrusaderswereabouttodeliverthecoupdegracetoawoundedAssassin.Leaningfromthesaddle,theyoungmanfelledthefirstsoldierwithacleanstrokebeforereininghishorseinandleapingoffhismountinaswirlofdust.ThesecondCrusaderhadwhirledaroundtoconfronthim.Inasecond,theyoungmandrewathrowingknifeandaimeditattheCrusader,hurlingitwithdeadlyaccuracy,sothatitburieditselfintheman’sneck,justbelowthehelmet.Themanfelltohisknees,thencollapsedforward,onhisfaceinthedirt.Theyoungmandashedovertotheaidofhiscomrade,whohadcollapsed
againstatree.Theinjuredman’sswordhadslippedfromhishand,andheleanedforward,hisbackagainstthetreetrunk,graspinghisankleandgrimacing.“Whereareyouhurt?”askedtheyoungman,urgently.
“Brokenfoot.Youarrivedinthenickoftime.”Theyoungmanbentunderhiscomradeandhelpedhimtohisfeet,placing
oneofhisarmsroundhisshouldersandhelpinghimtoabenchagainstthewallofastoneoutbuilding.TheinjuredAssassinlookedupathim.“Whatisyourname,brother?”“Altaïr.SonofUmar.”TheinjuredAssassin’sfacebrightenedinrecognition.“Umar.Afineman,
whodiedashehadlived—withhonor.”AthirdAssassinwasstaggeringtowardthemfromthemainpartofthebattle,
bloodiedandexhausted.“Altaïr!”hecried.“Wehavebeenbetrayed!Theenemyhasoverrunthecastle!”AltaïrIbn-La’Ahadfinisheddressinghisfallencomrade’swound.Pattinghim
ontheshoulder,hereassuredhim:“You’lllive.”Thenheturnedtoaddressthenewcomer.Nofriendlylookwasexchangedbetweenthem.“Gravenews,Abbas.WhereisAlMualim?”Abbasshookhishead.“HewasinsidewhentheCrusadersbrokethrough.We
candonothingforhimnow.”Altaïrdidn’treplyimmediatelybutturnedtofacethecastle,risingamongits
rockycragsafewhundredyardsaway.Hewasthinking.“Altaïr!”Abbasinterruptedhim.“Wemustfallback!”Altaïrturnedbacktohimcalmly.“Listen.WhenIclosethecastlegates,flank
theCrusaderunitsinthevillageanddrivethemintothecanyontothewest.”“Samefoolhardiness,”growledAbbasangrily.“Youdon’tstandachance!”“Abbas!”retortedAltaïrsternly.“Just—makenomistakes.”Remounting,herodetowardthecastle.Ashecanteredalongthefamiliar
roadway,hewasgrievedatthescenesofdestructionthatmethiseye.Villagerswerestragglingalongthesideofthepath.Oneraisedherheadasshewaspassing,andcried:“CursetheseCrusaders!Maytheyfallbeneathyoursword,everyoneofthem!”“Leaveprayerstothepriests,mysister.”Altaïrspurredhishorseon,hisprogressslowedbypocketsofCrusaders
engagedinlooting,andpreyinguponthosedenizensofMasyafattemptingtoregainthevillagefromthebeleagueredfortress.ThreetimeshehadtoexpendprecioustimeandenergyindefendinghispeoplefromthedepredationsofthesesurlyFranks,whostyledthemselvesSoldiersofChrist.Butthewordsofgratitudeandencouragementranginhisearsasherodeon,andspurredhispurpose:
“Blessyou,Assassin!”“IwascertainI’dbekilled!Thankyou!”“DrivetheseCrusadersbackintothesea,onceandforall!”Atlasthereachedthegate.Ityawnedopen.Lookingup,Altaïrcouldseea
fellowAssassinfranticallyworkingatthewinchmechanismonthegatehouse,somehundredfeetabove.AplatoonofAssassinfootsoldiersweregroupedatthefootofoneofthenearbytowers.“Whyisthegatestillopen?”Altaïrcalledtohim.“Bothwinchesarejammed.Thecastleisswarmingwiththeenemy.”AltaïrlookedintothecourtyardofthecastletoseeagroupofCrusaders
makingforhim.Headdressedthelieutenantinchargeoftheplatoon.“Holdthisposition.”Sheathinghisswordanddismounting,hestartedtoclimbtheouterwallofthe
gatehouseand,shortlyafterward,arrivedatthesideofthecomradewhowasworkingtofreethewinches.Frantically,theyworkedonthem,andtheircombinedstrengthprevailed—atleast,enoughtofreethegatepartially,anditslippeddownafewfeet,judderingandgroaning.“Nearlythere,”saidAltaïr,throughgrittedteeth.Hismusclesbulgedasheand
hisfellowAssassinstruggledtodislodgethecogsofthesecondwinch.Atlastitgave,andthegatecamecrashingdownonthemeleebetweenAssassinsandCrusaderstakingplacebelow.TheAssassinsmanagedtoleapclear,buttheCrusaders’troopwasdividedbythefallinggate,someinsidethecastle,otherstrappedoutside.Altaïrmadehiswaydownthestonestepsthatledfromthetopofthe
gatehousetothecentralcourtyardofMasyaf.ThescatteredbodiesofAssassinsattestedtothefiercefightingthathadonlyrecentlytakenplacethere.Ashelookedaround,scanningtherampartsandbattlements,adoorintheGreatKeepopened,andfromitemergedagroupofpeoplewhomadehimdrawinhisbreathsharply.AcompanyofeliteCrusaderinfantrymensurroundedtheMentoroftheBrotherhood—AlMualim.Theoldmanwassemiconscious.Hewasbeingdraggedalongbytwobrutal-lookingtroopers.Withthemwasafigurewithadagger,whomAltaïrrecognized.Abig,toughmanwithdark,unreadableeyes,andadeep,disfiguringscaronhischin.Histhinhairwastiedupinablackribbon.Haras.AltaïrhadlongwonderedwhereHaras’strueloyaltieshadlain.AnAssassin
adept,hehadneverseemedsatisfiedwiththerankassignedtohimwithinthe
Brotherhood.Hewasamanwhosoughtaneasyroutetothetopratherthanonethatrewardedmerit.Thoughamanwithawell-deservedreputationasafighter,chameleon-like,hehadalwaysmanagedtowormhiswayintootherpeople’sconfidencebyadaptinghispersonalitytosuittheirs.Hisambitionshadclearlygotthebetterofhim,and,seeinganopportunity,hehadtraitorouslythrowninhislotwiththeCrusaders.NowheevendressedinCrusaderuniform.“Standback,Altaïr!”hecried.“Anotherstep,andyourMentordies!”Atthesoundofthevoice,AlMualimrallied,stoodproud,andraisedhisown
voice.“Killthiswretch,Altaïr!Idonotfeardeath!”“Youwon’tleavethisplacealive,traitor!”AltaïrcalledtoHaras.Haraslaughed.“No.Youmisunderstand.Iamnotraitor.”Hetookahelmet,
whichwashangingfromhisbelt,anddonnedit.ACrusaderhelmet!Haraslaughedagain.“Yousee?IcouldneverbetraythoseInevertrulyloved.”HarasstartedtowalktowardAltaïr.“Thenyouaredoublywretched,”saidAltaïr.“Foryouhavebeenlivingalie.”Thingshappenedquicklythen.Harasdrewhisswordandlungedtoward
Altaïr.Atthesamemoment,AlMualimmanagedtobreakfreeofhisguardsand,withastrengththatbeliedhisage,wrestedtheswordfromoneofthemandcuthimdown.ProfitingfromHaras’smomentarydistraction,Altaïrunleashedhishidden-bladeandstruckatthetraitor.ButHarassquirmedoutofthewayandbroughthisownsworddowninacowardlystrokewhileAltaïrwasoffbalance.Altaïrrolledtooneside,springingbacktohisfeetquicklyasaknotof
CrusadersrushedtoHaras’sdefense.Outofthecornerofhiseye,hecouldseeAlMualimfightinganothergroup.“Killthebastard!”snarledHaras,steppingoutofharm’sway.Altaïrtastedfury.Hesurgedforward,slicingthroughthethroatsoftwo
Crusaderassailants.Theothersfellbackinfear,leavingHarasisolatedandpetrified.Altaïrcorneredhimwheretwowallsmet.Hehadtomakehasteandfinishthejob,togotohisMentor’sassistance.Haras,seeingAltaïrmomentarilydistracted,cutathimquickly,rippingthe
clothofhistunic.Altaïrlashedbackinretaliationandplungedhishidden-bladestraightintothebaseofHaras’sneck,justabovethesternum.Withastrangledcry,thetraitorfellback,crashingagainstthewall.Altaïrstoodoverhim.HaraslookedupasAltaïr’sfigureblockedthesun.“Youputtoomuchfaithin
theheartsofmen,Altaïr,”hesaid,barelygettingthewordsoutasthebloodbubbledfromhischest.“TheTemplarsknowwhatistrue.Humansareweak,base,andpetty.”Hedidn’tknowhecouldhavebeendescribinghimself.
“No,Haras.OurCreedisevidencetothecontrary.Trytoreturntoit,evennow,inyourlasthour.Ibegyououtofpitytoredeemyourself.”“Youwilllearn,Altaïr.Andyouwilllearnthehardway.”Nevertheless,Haras
pausedinthoughtforamoment,andevenasthelightinhiseyesslowlydied,hefoughtforspeech.“PerhapsIamnotwiseenoughtounderstand,butIsuspecttheoppositeofwhatyoubelieveistrue.Iamatleasttoowisetobelievesuchrubbishasyoudo.”Thenhiseyesbecamemarble,andhisbodyleanedtooneside,along,rattling
sighescapingfromitasitrelaxedindeath.Thedoubthe’dseededinAltaïr’sminddidn’ttakerootimmediately.There
wastoomuchtobedonefortheretobetimeforthought.TheyoungmanwheeledroundandjoinedhisMentor,fightingshouldertoshoulderuntiltheCrusaderbandwasrouted,eithersprawledinthebloodydustorfled.Aroundthem,meanwhile,thesignswerethatthebattlehadturnedinthe
Assassins’favor.TheCrusaderarmywasbeatingaretreatfromthecastlethoughthebattlebeyonditcontinued.Messengerssoonarrivedtoconfirmthat.Recoveringfromtheirexertions,AltaïrandAlMualimpausedforamoment’s
respiteunderatreebythesideofthegateoftheGreatKeep.“Thatman—thatwretch,Haras—youofferedhimalastchancetosalvagehis
dignity,toseetheerrorofhisways.Why?”FlatteredthathisMentorshouldseekhisopinion,Altaïrreplied:“Noman
shouldpassfromthisworldwithoutknowingsomekindness,somechanceofredemption.”“Butheshunnedwhatyouprofferedhim.”Altaïrshruggedmildly.“Thatwashisright.”AlMualimwatchedAltaïr’sfacecloselyforamoment,thensmiled,and
nodded.Together,theystartedtowalktowardthecastlegate.“Altaïr,”AlMualimbegan,“Ihavewatchedyougrowfromaboytoamaninaveryshorttime—andIhavetosaythatthisfillsmewithasmuchsadnessaspride.Butonethingiscertain:YoufitUmar’sshoesasiftheyhadbeenmadeforyou.”Altaïrraisedhishead.“Ididnotknowhimasafather.OnlyasanAssassin.”AlMualimplacedahandonhisshoulder.“You,too,werebornintothisOrder
—thisBrotherhood.”Hepaused.“Arethereevertimeswhenyou—regretit?”“Mentor—howcanIregrettheonlylifeIhaveeverknown?”AlMualimnoddedsagely,lookingupbrieflytomakeasigntoanAssassin
lookoutperchedhighontheparapetwall.“Youmayfindanotherway,intime,Altaïr.Andifthattimecomes,itwillbeuptoyoutochoosethepathyou
prefer.”InresponsetoAlMualim’ssignal,themeninthegatehousewerewinchingup
thecastlegateagain.“Come,myboy,”theoldmansaid.“Andreadyyourblade.Thisbattleisnot
wonyet.”Together,theystrodetowardtheopengate,intothebrightsunshinebeyond.
Brightsunshine,awhitelightsostrong,soall-encompassing,thatEziowasdazzled.Heblinkedtoridhiseyesofthemulticoloredshapesthatappearedbeforethem,shakinghisheadvigorouslytoescapefromwhatevervisionhadhiminitsgrip.Hesqueezedthemtightshut.Whenheopenedthem,hisheartbeathadbeguntosettletoitsnormalrhythm,
andhefoundhimselfonceagaininthesubterraneanchamber,thesoftlightreturned.Hefoundthathewasstillholdingthestonediscinhishand,andnowhewasinnodoubtatallaboutwhatitwas.Hehadfoundthefirstkey.Helookedathiscandle.Hehadseemedtobeawayforalongtime,yetthe
flameburnedsteadilyandhadeatenupscarcelyanytallow.Hestowedthekeywiththemapinhispouchandturnedtomakehiswayback
tothedaylight,andtoSofia.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Excitedly,Sofiaputdownthebookshe’dbeentryingtoreadandranovertohim,butdrawingthelineattakinghiminherarms.“Ezio!Salve!I’dthoughtyouweregoneforever!”“SodidI,”saidEzio.“Didyoufindanything?”“Yes,Idid.Somethingthatmayinterestyou.”Theywalkedovertoalargetable,whichSofiaclearedofbooksasEzio
producedthemaphe’dfoundandspreaditout.“Diomio,howbeautiful!”sheexclaimed.“Andlook—there’smyshop.Inthe
middle.”“Yes.It’sonaveryimportantsite.Butlookatthemargins.”Sheproducedapairofeyeglassesand,bendingover,examinedthebooktitles
closely.“Rarebooks,these.Andwhatarethesymbolssurroundingthem?”“That’swhatIhopetofindout.”“Someofthesebooksarereallyextremelyrare.Andafewofthemhaven’t
beenseenfor—well—morethanamillennium!Theymustbeworthafortune!”“YourshopisontheverysiteofthetradingpostoncerunbythePolobrothers
—NiccolòandMaffeo.Niccolòhidthesebooksaroundthecity.Thismapshouldtelluswhereifwecanfindouthowtointerpretit.”Shetookoffherglassesandlookedathim,intrigued.“Hmmn.Youare
beginningtointerestme.Vaguely.”Eziosmiledandleanedforward.Hepointedtothemap.“FromwhatIcansee,
fromamongthetwelvetitles,Ineedtofindthesethreefirst.”“Whatoftheothers?”“Thatremainstobeseen.Theymaybedeliberateredherrings.ButIam
convincedthatthesearetheonestoconcentrateon.Theymaycontaincluesaboutthelocationsoftherestofthese—”Heproducedtheroundstonefromhissatchel.Shedonnedherglassesagain
andpeeredatit.Theshestoodback,shakingherhead.“Moltocurioso.”“It’sthekeytoalibrary.”“Doesn’tlooklikeakey.”
“It’saveryspeciallibrary.Anotherhasbeenfoundalready—beneathTopkapiPalace.But,Godwilling,thereisstilltimetofindtheothers.”“Found—bywhom?”“Menwhodonotread.”Sofiagrinnedatthat.ButEzioremainedearnest.“Sofia—doyouthinkyou
couldtrytodecipherthismap?Helpmefindthesebooks?”Sofiastudiedthemapagainforafewminutes,insilence.Thenshe
straightenedandlookedatEzio,smiling,atwinkleinhereye.“Thereareplentyofreferencebooksinthisshop.Withtheirhelp,IthinkIcanunravelthismystery.Butononecondition.”“Yes?”“MayIborrowthebookswhenyou’vefinishedwiththem?”Eziolookedamused.“Idaresaywecanworksomethingout.”Hetookhisleave.Shewatchedhimgo,thenclosedtheshopfortheday.
Returningtothetable,aftercollectinganumberoftomesfromtheshelvesnearbytohelpher,andanotebookandpens,shepulledupachairandsettleddownatoncetoexaminingthemapinearnest.
TWENTY-NINE
Thenextday,EziometYusufneartheHippodromeinthesoutheastquarterofthepeninsula.Hefoundhimconferringwithagroupofyoungerassociatesoveramaptheywerestudying.ThemeetingbrokeupasEzioarrived,andYusuffoldeduphismap.“Greetings,Mentor,”hesaid.“IfI’mnotmistaken,there’sapleasantsurprise
instore.AndifI’mnotdeadbythistimetomorrow,weshouldhavesomegoodstoriestotrade.”“Isthereachanceofyourbeingdead?”“We’vehadwindofaplantheByzantinesarehatching.Nowthattheyoung
PrinceSuleimanhasreturnedfromthehajj,theyplantoinfiltrateTopkapiPalace.They’vechosenthiseveningtomaketheirmove.”“What’sspecialaboutthisevening?”“There’sanentertainmentatthepalace.Aculturalevent.Anexhibitionof
paintings—peopleliketheBellinibrothers—andSeljukartists,too.Andthere’llbemusic.”“Sowhat’sourplan?”Yusuflookedathimgravely.“Mybrother,thisisnotyourfight.Thereisno
needforyoutoensnareyourselfinOttomanaffairs.”“Topkapiconcernsme.TheTemplarsfoundoneofthekeystoAltaïr’slibrary
beneathit,andI’dliketoknowhow.”“Ezio,ourplanistoprotecttheprince,notinterrogatehim.”“Trustme,Yusuf.Justshowmewheretogo.”Yusuflookedunconvinced,butsaid:“Therendezvousisatthemaingateof
thepalace.Weplantodisguiseourselvesasmusiciansandwalkrightinwiththeauthenticplayers.”“I’llmeetyouthere.”“You’llneedacostume.Andaninstrument.”“Iusedtoplaythelute.”“We’llseewhatwecando.Andwe’dbetterplaceyouwiththeItalian
musicians.Youdon’tlookTurkishenoughtopassforoneofus.”
Bydusk,Ezio,Yusuf,andhispickedteamofAssassins,alldressedinformalcostumes,hadassemblednearthemaingate.“Doyoulikeyourgetup?”askedYusuf.“It’sfine.Butthesleevesarecuttight.Therewasnoroomforanyconcealed
weapon.”“Youcan’tplayaluteinloosesleeves.Andthat’swhatyouare—aluteplayer.
Isn’tthatwhatyouwanted?”“True.”“Andwearearmed.Youmarkanytargetsandleaveittoustotakethemout.
Here’syourinstrument.”HetookafinelutefromoneofhismenandpassedittoEzio,whotriedit,tentatively.“ByAllah,you’llhavetomakeabettersoundthanthat!”saidYusuf.“It’sbeenalongtime.”“Areyousureyouknowhowtoplaythatthing?”“IlearnedafewchordswhenIwasyoung.”“Wereyoureallyeveryoung?”“Alongtimeago.”Yusuftwitchedathisowncostume,agreen-and-yellowsatinnumber.“Ifeel
ridiculousinthisoutfit.Ilookridiculous!”“Youlookjustlikealltheothermusicians,andthat’stheimportantthing.
Now,comeon—theorchestra’sassembling.”TheycrossedovertowhereanumberofItalianinstrumentalistsweremilling
about,impatienttogainentrytothepalace.YusufandhismenwereequippedasTurkishmusicians,withtanburs,ouds,kanuns,andkudüms,allinstrumentswhich,betweenthem,theycouldplaypassably.Eziowatchedthembeingusheredthroughasideentrance.Eziofounditagreeabletobeamonghisfellowcountrymenagain,anddipped
inandoutofconversationwiththem.“You’refromFlorence?Welcome!Thisshouldbeagoodgig,”onetoldhim.“Youcallthisagoodgig?”aviolplayerchippedin.“Youshouldtryplaying
inFrance!They’vegotallthebestpeople.IwastherenotsixmonthsagoandheardJosquin’sQuiHabitat.It’sthemostbeautifulchoraleI’veeverlistenedto.Doyouknowhiswork,Ezio?”“Alittle.”“Josquin,”saidthefirstmusician,asackbutplayer.“Yes,he’satreasure.
There’scertainlynomaninItalytomatchhistalent.”
“Ourtimewillcome.”“Iseeyou’realutenist,Ezio,”amancarryingachitarrasaidtohim.“I’ve
beenexperimentingwithalternativetuningslately.It’sawonderfulwaytosparknewideas.Forexample,I’vebeentuningmyfourthstringtoaminorthird.Itgivesaverysombersound.Bytheway,didyoubringanyextrastringswithyou?Imusthavebrokensixthismonth.”“Josquin’smusic’stooexperimentalforme,”saidacitternist.“Believeme,
polyphonywillnevercatchon.”“Remindme,”saidthechitarraplayer,ignoringhiscolleague’sremark.“I’d
liketolearnafeweasterntuningsbeforeweleave.”“Goodidea.Imustsaythisisagreatplacetowork.Thepeoplehereareso
kind,too.NotlikeVerona.Youcanhardlycrossthestreettherethesedayswithoutgettingmugged,”amusiciancarryingashawmputin.“Whendowegoon?”Ezioasked.“Soonenough,”repliedthecitternplayer.“Look,they’reopeningthegates
now.”Themanwiththeviolpluckedcriticallyathisstrings,thenlookedpleased.
“It’sasplendiddayformusic,don’tyouthink,Ezio?”“Ihopeso,”Ezioreplied.Theymadetheirwaytothegate,whereOttomanofficialswerechecking
peoplethrough.Unluckily,whenEzio’sturncame,oneofthemstoppedhim.“Playusatune,”hesaid.“Ilikethesoundofalute.”Eziowatchedhelplesslyashisfellowmusiciansfiledpast.“Perdonate,buon
signore,butI’mpartoftheentertainmentforPrinceSuleiman.”“Anyoldgerzekcancarryaninstrumentaround,andwedon’trememberyou
beingpartofthisparticularband.Soplayusatune.”Takingadeepbreath,Eziostartedtopluckoutasimpleballatahe
rememberedlearningwhentheystillhadthefamilypalazzoinFlorence.Hetwangedawfully.“That’s—forgiveme—terrible!”saidtheofficial.“Orareyouintosomenew
experimentalmusic?”“Youmightaswellbestrummingawashboard,asstrings,theracketyou’re
making,”saidanother,comingover,amused.“Yousoundlikeadyingcat.”“Ican’tworkunderthesecircumstances,”Eziosaidhuffily.“Givemea
chancetogetwarmedup.”
“Allright!Andgetyourselfintunewhileyou’reatit.”Eziowilledhimselftoconcentrateandtriedagain.Afterafewinitial
stumbles,thistimehemanagedtomakeafairfistofastraightforwardoldpiecebyLandini.Itwasquitemoving,intheend,andtheOttomanofficialsactuallyapplauded.“Pekala,”saidtheonewhohadfirstchallengedhim.“Inyougo,then,and
bothertheguestswiththatnoise.”Onceinside,Eziofoundhimselfinthemidstofagreatthrong.Awidemarble
courtyard,partiallycovered,likeanatrium,glitteredwithlightandcolorundertheboughsoftamarinds.Guestswerewanderingaboutasservantsmadetheirwaybetweenthemwithtraysloadedwithsweetmeatsandrefreshingdrinks.TherewereplentyofOttomangentrypresent,aswellasdiplomatsandhigh-profileartistsandbusinessmenfromItaly,Serbia,thePeloponnese,Persia,andArmenia.ItwashardtodetectanypossibleByzantineinfiltratorsinthissophisticatedassembly.EziodecidedthathisbestcourseofactionwouldbetotrytorejointheItalian
musicaltroupehe’dbeentalkingwith,buttookhistimeaboutit,gettingthelayoftheland.Buttheroyalguardswerevigilant,andbeforelong,oneofthemaccostedhim.“Excuseme,sir,areyoulost?”“No.”“Musicianareyou?Well,you’rebeingpaidtoplay,nottomingle!”Eziowasfuriousbuthadtocontainhisangerinordernottoblowhiscover.
Fortunatelyforhim,hewasrescuedbyagroupofwealthy-lookinglocals,foursleekmenandfourheartstoppinglybeautifulwomen.“Playussomething,”theyentreatedhim,formingacircleroundhim.EzioranthroughtheLandiniagain,rememberingsomeotherpiecesbythat
composerandprayingthathisaudiencewouldn’tfindthemtooold-fashioned.Buttheywereentranced.And,ashisconfidenceincreased,Eziowaspleasedthathismusicianshipalsoimproved.Heevendaredtoimprovisealittle.Andtosing.“Pekgüzel,”commentedoneofthemen,ashefinishedaset.“Indeed—quitebeautiful,”agreedhispartner,inwhosedeepvioleteyesEzio
wouldquitehappilyhavedied.“Hmn.Technique’snotquitewhatitmightbe,”commentedoneoftheother
men.“Oh,Murad,youaresuchapedant.Thinkoftheexpression!That’sthemain
thing.”“Heplaysalmostaswellashedresses,”saidasecondwoman,eyeinghim.“Asoundasbeautifulasrainfall,”saidathird.“Indeed,theItalianluteiseverybitaslovelyasouroud,”concededMurad,
pullinghispartnerawayfromEzio.“Butnow,alas,wemustmingle.”“Tesekkürederim,efendim,”thewomenchirrupedastheydeparted.Ezio,hiscredentialsconfirmed,wasleftunmolestedbytheguardsfromthen
on,andwasabletomakecontactwithYusufandhisteam.“Brilliant,Mentor,”saidYusuf,whenthey’dreconnected.“Butdon’tbeseen
talkingtous—it’lllooksuspicious.Trytomakeyourwaytothesecondcourtyard—theinnerone—throughthere.I’lljoinyou.”“Goodthinking,”Ezioagreed.“Butwhatmayweexpectthere?”“Theinnercircle.Theentourageoftheprince.And,ifwearefortunate,
Suleimanhimself.Butbeonyourguard,Mentor.Theremaybedangerthere,too.”
THIRTY
Itwasconsiderablyquieterinthesecondcourtyard,butthedecorations,thefoodanddrink,andthequalityofbothmusicandartwerejustthatlittlebitmoresplendid.EzioandYusuf,keepinginthebackground,scannedtheguests.“IdonotseePrinceSuleiman,”Yusufsaid.“Wait!”Eziopromptedhim.Theorchestrastruckupafanfare,andtheguestsallturnedexpectantlytoward
agatewayinthecenteroftherearwallofthecourtyard,drapedwithrichhangings.CostlysilkIsfahancarpetswerespreadonthegroundinfrontofit.Momentslater,asmallgroupofpeopleemerged,clusteredaroundthetwomenwholedthem—eachcladinasuitofwhitesilk,onewearingaturbanwithdiamondpins,theotheraturbanwithemeralds.Ezio’seyesweredrawntotheyoungerofthese,andhislipspartedasherecognizedhim.“Theyoungman?”heaskedhiscompanion.“ThatisPrinceSuleiman,”Yusuftoldhim.“SultanBayezid’sgrandson,and
governorofKefe.Andhe’sonlyseventeen.”Eziowasamused.“Imethimontheship,onthewayhere.Hetoldmehewas
astudent.”“I’veheardthathelikestotravelincognito.It’salsoasecuritymeasure.He
wasreturningfromthehajj.”“Whoistheotherman?Theonewithemeraldsinhisturban?”“Hisuncle,PrinceAhmet.Thesultan’sfavoredson.Heisgroominghimself
forthesuccessionaswespeak.”Astheywatched,thetwoprincesstood,asfavoredguestswerepresentedto
them.Thentheprincesacceptedglassesofruby-coloredliquid.“Wine?”askedEzio.“Cranberryjuice.”“Serefe!Sagliginiza!”Ahmetsaid,raisinghisvoicewithhisglass,toasting
theassembly.Aftertheformaltoasts,YusufandEziocontinuedtowatch,asbothguestsand
hostsbecamemorerelaxed.ThoughasSuleimaninparticularmingled,Ezionoticedthathisguardswerediscreetlybutcontinuallyattentive.Theseguards
weretall,andnoneofthemlookedTurkish.Theyworeadistinctiveuniformofwhiterobes,andtheirheadgearwasahigh,white,taperingcap,likethatofadervish.All,equally,woremustaches.Nonewaseitherclean-shavenorhadabeard.EzioknewenoughaboutOttomancustomtorealizethatthismeantthattheyhadthestatusofslaves.Weretheysomekindofprivatebodyguard?Suddenly,YusufcaughtEzio’sarm.“Look!Thatmanoverthere!”Athin,paleyoungmanwithfine,light-coloredhairanddarkbrown,
expressionlesseyeshadsidledupclosetoSuleiman.HewasexpensivelydressedandmighthavebeenaprosperousSerbianarmsdealer,atanyratesomeoneimportantenoughtohavemadeitontotheguestlistforthesecondcourtyard.AsEzioquicklyscannedthecrowd,hesawfourmoreelegantlydressedmen,noneofthemTurks,bytheirlooks,takingupwhatcouldonlybebackuppositionsanddiscreetlysignalingtooneanother.BeforeYusuforEziocouldreact,thethinyoungman,alreadyatSuleiman’s
elbow,had,withthespeedoflight,drawnathin,curvedjanbiyahandwasplungingitdowntowardtheprince’schest.Atthesameinstant,theclosestguardtohimnoticedandsprangintotheblade’spath.Therewasinstantaneouschaosandconfusion.Guestswerepushedroughly
asideasguardsrantoassistbothprincesandtheirfallencomrade,whilethefiveTemplarwould-bekillerstriedtomaketheirescapethroughthecrowd,nowmillingaroundinuproarandpanic.Thethinyoungmanhadvanished,buttheguardshadidentifiedhiscompanionsandwerenowpursuingthemsystematically,theByzantineplottersusingtheconfusedanddisorientedguestsasobstaclestoputbetweenthemandtheirhunters.Exitsweresealed,buttheconspiratorsattemptedtoclimboutofthecourtyard.Intheconfusion,PrinceAhmethaddisappeared,andPrinceSuleimanhadbeenleftisolated.Eziosawthathehaddrawnasmalldaggerbutcalmlystoodhisground.“Ezio!”Yusufsuddenlyhissed.“Lookthere!”EziofollowedthedirectionYusufwaspointinginandsawthatthethinyoung
manhadreturned.Now,breakingoutofthecrowdbehindtheprince,hewasclosingonhim,hisweaponpoised.EziowasfarcloserthanYusufandrealizedthatonlyhecouldsavetheprince
intime.Buthehadnoweaponhimself!Thenhelookeddownatthelute,whichhewasstillholdinginhishands,and,withagruntofregret,madehisdecisionandsmasheditagainstanearbycolumn.Itshatteredbutlefthimwithasharpshardofsprucewoodinhishand.Inaninstant,Eziosprangforwardand,seizingtheByzantinebyhisbony
wristandforcinghimbackwardjustashewasintheactofmovinginforthekill,drovetheshardfourinchesdeepintotheman’slefteye.TheByzantinestoppedasifhehadbeenfrozeninmotion,thenthejanbiyahfellfromhishandandclatteredontothemarblefloor.Hehimselfcrumpledtothegroundimmediatelyafterward.Thecrowdfellsilent,formingacirclearoundEzioandSuleimanata
respectfuldistance.Theguardstriedtointervene,butSuleimanstayedthemwithagesture.Theprincesheathedhisowndaggerandtookasmallbreath.Thenhetooka
steptowardEzio—asignalhonorfromaprince,whichthecrowdacknowledgedwithagasp.“Itisgoodtoseeyouagain,miobelmenestrello.DidIsaythatright?”“‘Myhandsomeminstrel.’Verygood.”“Itisapityaboutyourlute.Somuchmorebeautifulaninstrumentthana
sword.”“Youareright.Butitdoesnotsavelives.”“Somewouldarguewiththat.”“Perhaps.Inothercircumstances.”Thetwomenexchangedasmile.“Ihear
youareagovernoraswellasaprince.Isthereanythingyoudonotdo?”“Idonottalktostrangers.”Suleimanbowed—aslightinclinationofthehead
only.“IamSuleimanOsman.”“Auditore,Ezio...”Eziobowedinhisturn.Oneofthewhite-cladguardsapproachedthen.Asergeant.“Forgiveme,my
prince.Onbehalfofyouruncle,wemusthaveyourassurancethatyouareuninjured.”“Whereishe?”“Heawaitsyou.”Suleimanlookedathimcoldly.“Tellhimthat,thankstothisman,Iam
uninjured.Butnothankstoyou!You!TheJanissaries!Theeliteguard,andyoufailme,aprinceoftheroyalhouse,likethis!Whereisyourcaptain?”“TarikBarletiisaway—onanerrand.”“Onanerrand?Doyoureallywishtoshowyourselvessuchamateursinfront
ofthisstranger?”Suleimandrewhimselfupastheguard,amusculargiantwhomusthaveweighedallofthreehundredpounds,trembledbeforehim.“Clearthisbodyawayandsendtheguestshome.ThensummonTariktotheDivan!”TurningbacktoEzioasthemanscuttledoff,Suleimansaid:“Thisis
embarrassing.TheJanissariesarethebodyguardofthesultan.”
“Butnotofhisfamily?”“Onthisoccasion,itwouldappearnot.”Suleimanpaused,givingEzioan
appraisinglook.“Now,Idon’twishtoimposeonyourtime,butthereissomethingIwouldlikeyouropinionon.Somethingimportant.”YusufwassignalingtoEziofromtheedgeofthecrowd,nowslowly
dispersing.“Allowmesimplythetimetochangeoutofthiscostume,”Eziosaid,nodding
discreetlytohisfriend.“Verywell.There’ssomethingIneedtoarrangefirstinanycase.Meetmeby
theDivanwhenyouareready.Myattendantswillescortyou.”Heclappedhishandsanddepartedthewayhehadcome.
“Thatwasquiteaperformance,”Yusufsaid,astheymadetheirwayoutofthepalaceinthecompanyoftwoofSuleiman’spersonalattendants.“Butyou’vegivenusanintroductionwewouldneverhavedreamedpossible.”“Theintroduction,”Ezioremindedhim,“ismine.”
THIRTY-ONE
SuleimanwasalreadywaitingwhenEziojoinedhimoutsidetheDivan—thecouncilchamber—ofthepalace,ashorttimelater.Theyoungmanwaslookingcomposedandalert.“Ihavearrangedameetingwithmyuncle,PrinceAhmet,andCaptainTarik
Barleti,”heannouncedwithoutpreamble.“ThereissomethingIshouldexplainfirst.TheJanissariesareloyaltomygrandfather,buttheyhavebecomeangryoverhischoiceforthenextsultan.”“Ahmet.”“Exactly.TheJanissariesfavormyfather,Selim.”“Hmn,”saidEzio,considering.“Youareinatoughspot.Buttellme—howdo
theByzantinesfitintothis?”Suleimanshookhishead.“Iwashopingyoumightbeabletogivemesome
guidanceonthat.Wouldyoubewillingtohelpmefindout?”“Iamtrackingthemmyself.Aslongasourinterestsdonotconflict,itwould
beanhonortoassistyou.”Suleimansmiledenigmatically.“ThenImustacceptwhatIcanget.”He
paused.“Listen.Thereisahatchatthetopofthetoweryouseeoverthere.Goupandliftthehatch.YouwillbeabletoseeandheareverythingthatissaidintheDivan.”Ezionoddedandimmediatelytookhisleave,whileSuleimanturnedand
enteredtheDivanhimself.BythetimeEziohadreachedhisvantagepoint,thediscussioninthecouncilchamberbelowhimhadalreadybegunandwasalreadybecomingheated.Thethreemeninvolvedsatorstoodaroundalongtable,coveredwithBergamacarpets.Behindthetable,atapestrydepictingBayezid,flankedbyhissons,hungonthewall.Ahmet,avigorousmaninhismidforties,withshort,darkbrownhairanda
fullbeard,currentlybareheadedandchangedintorichgarmentsofred,green,andwhite,wasinthemiddleofatirade:“Heedmynephew,Tarik.Your
incompetencebordersontreason.TothinkthattodayyourJanissarieswereoutshonebyanItalianluteplayer!Itispreposterous!”TarikBarleti,thelowerhalfofhisbattle-scarredfacelostinagrizzledbeard,
lookedgrim.“Aninexcusablefailing,efendim.Iwillconductafullinvestigation.”Suleimancutin.“ItisIwhowillconducttheinvestigation,Tarik.Forreasons
thatshouldbeobvious.”Barletinoddedshortly.“Evet,Sehzadem.Clearlyyouhaveyourfather’s
wisdom.”Ahmetshotthecaptainafuriousglanceatthat,whileSuleimanretorted:“And
hisimpatience.”Heturnedtohisuncle,histoneformal.“SehzadAhmet,Iamatleastrelievedtoseethatyouaresafe.”“Likewise,Suleiman.MayGodprotectyou.”Suleiman,Eziocouldsee,wasplayingsomekindoflonggame.Ashe
watched,theyoungprinceroseandsummonedhisattendants.“Iwilltakemyleaveofyounow,”heannounced.“AndIwillmakemyreport
onthisdisgracefulincidentverysoon,youmaybesureofthat.”Accompaniedbyhisretinueandguard,hestrodefromtheDivan.Tarik
Barletiwasabouttofollowsuit,butPrinceAhmetdetainedhim.“Tarikbey—aword?”Thesoldierturned.Ahmetbeckonedhimtoapproach.Histonewascordial.
Eziohadtostraintocatchhiswords.“Whatwasthepurposeofthisattack,Iwonder?Tomakemelookweak?To
makemeappearanineffectivestewardofthiscity?”Hepaused.“Ifthatwasyourplan,mydearcaptain;ifyouhadahandinthismess,youhavemadeagravemistake!Myfatherhaschosenmeasthenextsultan,notmybrother!”Tarikdidnotanswerimmediately,hisfaceexpressionless,almostbored.At
last,hesaid,“PrinceAhmet,Iamnotdepravedenoughtoimaginetheconspiracyyouaccusemeof.”Ahmettookastepbackthoughhistoneremainedlevelandaffable.“What
haveIdonetoearnsuchcontemptfromtheJanissaryCorps?WhathasmybrotherdoneforyouthatIhavenot?”Tarikhesitated,thensaid:“MayIspeakfreely?”Ahmetspreadhishands.“You’dbetter,Ithink.”Tarikfacedhim.“Youareweak,Ahmet.Pensiveintimesofwarandrestless
intimesofpeace.Youlackpassionforthetraditionsoftheghazi—theHolyWarriors—andyouspeakoffraternityinthecompanyofinfidels.”Hepaused.
“Youwouldmakeadecentphilosopher,Ahmet,butyouwillbeapoorsultan.”Ahmet’sfacedarkened.Hesnappedhisfingers,andhisownbodyguardcame
toattentionbehindhim.“Youmayshowyourselfout,”hetoldtheJanissarycaptain,andhisvoicewas
likeice.Eziowasstillwatching,as,afewminuteslater,AhmethimselfsweptoutoftheDivan.Amomentlater,EziowasjoinedbyPrinceSuleiman.“Quiteafamily,eh?”saidtheprince.“Don’tworry.Iwaslistening,too.”Eziolookedworried.“Yourunclelacksswayovertheverymenhewillsoon
command.Whydidhenotcutthatmandownwherehestood,forsuchinsolence?”“Tarikisahardman,”repliedtheprince,spreadinghishands.“Capable,but
ambitious.Andheadmiresmyfathergreatly.”“ButhefailedtosafeguardthispalaceagainstaByzantineattemptonyour
lifeinitsinnersanctum!Thataloneisworthyofinvestigation.”“Precisely.”“So—whereshouldwebegin?”Suleimanconsidered.Eziowatchedhim.Anoldheadonveryyoung
shoulders,hethought,withrenewedrespect.Suleimansaid,“Fornow,we’llkeepaneyeonTarikandhisJanissaries.They
spendmuchoftheirfreetimeinandaroundtheBazaar.Canyouhandlethat—youandyour...associates?”Hephrasedthelastwordsdelicately.AtthebackofEzio’smindwasthememoryofYusuf’sadmonitionnottoget
involvedinOttomanpolitics,butsomehowhisownquestandthispowerstrugglelookedconnected.Hemadehisdecision.“Fromnowon,PrinceSuleiman,noneofthemwillpurchasesomuchasa
handkerchiefwithoutourknowledge.”
THIRTY-TWO
HavingensuredthatYusufandtheAssassinsofConstantinoplewerefullybriefedinshadowingallmovementsofoff-dutyJanissariesintheGrandBazaar,Ezio,accompaniedbyAzize,madehiswaydowntothesoutherndocksofthecitytocollectbomb-makingmaterialsfromalistcompiledforhimbyPiriReis.Hehadcompletedhispurchasesanddispatchedthem,withAzize,tothe
Assassins’headquartersinthecity,whenhenoticedSofiainthecrowdthrongingthequays.ShewastalkingtoamanwholookedasifhemightbeanItalian,amanofabouthisownage.Ashedrewcloser,henotonlysawthatshewaslookingmorethanalittlediscomfitedbutrecognizedwhoshewastalkingto.Eziowasamused,butalsonotalittlediscomfitedhimself.Theman’sunexpectedappearanceevokedanumberofmemoriesandanumberofconflictingemotions.Withoutrevealinghispresence,Eziodrewcloser.ItwasDuccioDovizi.Decadesearlier,Eziohadcomeclosetobreakinghis
rightarmsinceDucciohadbeentwo-timingClaudia,towhomhewasengaged.Thearm,Ezionoticed,stillhadakinkinit.Ducciohimselfhadagedbadlyandlookedhaggard.Butthatclearlyhadn’tcrampedhisstyle.HewasevidentlysmittenbySofiaandwaspesteringherforattention.“Miacara,”hewassayingtoher,“thestringsofFatehavedrawnustogether.
TwoItalians,lostandaloneintheOrient.Doyounotfeelthemagnetismo?”Sofia,boredandannoyed,replied:“Ifeelmanythings,Messere—nausea,
aboveall.”Withasenseofdéjàvu,Eziothoughtitwastimetomakehismove.“Isthis
manbotheringyou,Sofia?”heasked,approaching.Duccio,fumingatthisinterruption,turnedtofacethenewcomer.“Excuseme,
Messere,buttheladyandIare—”HetrailedoffasherecognizedEzio.“Ah!Ildiavoloinperson!”Hislefthand
wentinvoluntarilytohisrightarm.“Stayback!”“Duccio,whatapleasuretoseeyouagain.”Ducciodidn’treplybutstumbledaway,trippingoverthecobblestonesashe
didso,andcrying,“Run,buonadonna!Runforyourlife!”Theywatchedhimdisappearalongthejetty.Therewasanawkwardpause.
“Whowasthat?”“Adog,”Eziotoldher.“Hewasengagedtomysister,manyyearsago.”“Andwhathappened?”“Hiscazzowasengagedtosixothers.”“Youexpressyourselfverycandidly.”Sofiasoundedmildlysurprisedby
Ezio’suseoftheword“dick”butnotoffended.“Forgiveme.”Hepausedforamoment,thenasked:“Whatbringsyoutothese
docks?”“Itookabreakfromtheshoptocollectapackage,butthecustomspeople
hereclaimthattheship’spapersarenotinorder.So,Iwait.”Ezioglancedaroundthewell-guardedharbor,gettingasenseofitslayout.“It’ssuchabother,”Sofiacontinued.“Icouldbehereallday.”“LetmeseewhatIcando,”hesaid.“Iknowafewwaysofbendingthe
rules.”“Doyounow?Well,ImustsayIadmireyourbravado.”“Leaveittome.I’llmeetyoubackatyourshop.”“Wellthen”—sherummagedinherbag—“hereisthepaperwork.Theparcel
isquitevaluable.Pleasetakecareofit—ifyoumanagetogetitawayfromthem.”“Iwill.”“Then—thankyou.”Shesmiledathimandmadeherwaybacktowardthe
city.Eziowatchedhergoforamoment,thenmadehiswaytothelargewoodenbuildingthatheldthecustomsoffices.Inside,therewasalongcounterand,behindit,shelvescontainingalargenumberofpackagesandparcels.Nearthefrontofoneofthelowershelvesclosesttothecounterhecouldseeawoodenmaptubewithalabelattachedtoit:SOFIASARTOR.“Perfetto,”hesaidtohimself.“MayIhelpyou,”saidaportlyofficial,cominguptohim.“Yes,ifyouplease.I’vecometocollectthatpackageoverthere.”Hepointed.Theclerklookedacross.“Well,I’mafraidthat’soutofthequestion!Allthose
parcelsandpackageshavebeenimpoundedpendingpaperworkclearance.”“Andhowlongwillthattake?”“Iwouldn’tliketosay.”
“Hours?”Theclerkpursedhislips.“Days?”“Thatalldepends.Ofcourse,foraconsideration...somethingmightbe
arranged...”“Tohellwiththat!”Theclerkbecamelessfriendly.“Areyoutryingtoimpedemeinmyduties?”
hebarked.“Getoutoftheway,oldman!Anddon’tcomebackifyouknowwhat’sgoodforyou!”Ezioswepthimasideandboundedoverthecounter.Heseizedthewooden
maptubeandturnedtoleave.Buttheclerkwasfranticallyblowingawhistle,andseveralofhiscolleagues,someofthemmembersoftheheavilyarmeddockyardguard,respondedinstantly.“Thatman!”yelpedtheclerk.“Hetriedtobribeme,andwhenthatfailed,he
resortedtoviolence!”Eziotookastandonthecounterasthecustomsmensurgedforwardtograb
him.Swingingtheweightywoodenmaptuberound,hecrackedafewskullswithitandleaptovertheheadsoftherestofthem,runningtowardtheexitandleavingconfusioninhiswake.“That’stheonlywaytodealwithpettyofficialdom,”hesaidtohimself,
contentedly.Hehaddisappearedintothetwistinglabyrinthofstreetsnorthofthedocksbeforehispursuershadhadtimetocollectthemselves.WithoutSofia’spapers,whichhestillhadsafelystowedinhistunic,they’dneverbeabletotraceher.
THIRTY-THREE
Towardnoon,heenteredthebookshopwestofHaghiaSofia.Shelookedupashecamein.Theshelveswerefarmoreorderlynowthan
theyhadbeenwhenhe’dfirstvisited.Inthebackroom,hecouldseeherworktable,withhismapfromthecisternsneatlylaidoutalongsideanumberofthickbooksofreference.“Salute,Ezio,”shesaid.“ThatwasalotquickerthanIexpected.Anyluck?”Ezioheldupthewoodenmaptubeandreadfromthelabel:“Madamigella
SofiaSartor,libraia,Costantinopoli.Isthatyou?”Hehandedherthetubewithasmile.Shetookitgladly,thenexaminedit
closely,herfaceturningsour.“Oh,no!Lookatthedamage!Didtheyusethistofightoffpirates,doyousuppose?”Ezioshrugged,alittlesheepishly.Sofiaopenedthetubeandwithdrewthe
mapwithin.Sheinspectedit.“Well,sofar,sogood.”Takingitovertoatable,shespreaditoutcarefully.Itwasacopyofamapof
theworld.“Isn’titbeautiful?”shesaid.“Indeed.”Eziostoodnexttoher,andtheybothporedoverit.“It’saprintofamapbyMartinWaldseemüller.It’sstillquitenew—heonly
publishedfouryearsago.Andlook—hereontheleft!ThenewlandsNavigatoreVespuccidiscoveredandwroteaboutonlyfourorfiveyearsbeforethemapwasdrawn.”“Theyworkfast,theseGermans,”saidEzio.“Iseehe’snamedthenewlands
afterVespucci’sChristianname—Amerigo.”“America!”“Yes...PoorCristoforoColombo.Historyhasastrangewayofunfolding.”“Whatdoyoumakeofthisbodyofwater—here?”Shepointedtotheoceans
onthefarsideofNorthandSouthAmerica.Ezioleanedforwardtolook.“Anewocean,perhaps?MostofthescholarsIknowclaimthesizeofthe
globehasbeenunderestimated.”Sofiasoundedwistful.“It’sincredible.Themorewelearnabouttheworld,the
lessweseemtoknow.”Quitetakenwiththethought,theybothfellsilentforamoment.Ezio
consideredthenewcenturytheywerein—thesixteenth.Andonlynearitsbeginning.Whatwouldunfoldduringit,hecouldonlyguess;andheknewthat,athisage,hewouldnotseeverymuchmoreofit.Morediscoveries,andmorewars,nodoubt.Butessentiallythesameplay
repeatingitself—andthesameactors,onlywithdifferentcostumesanddifferentpropsforeachgenerationthatswallowsupthelast,eachthinkingthatitwouldbetheonetodobetter.“Well,youhonoredyourpromise,”saidSofia.“Andhereisminefulfilled.”Sheledthewaytotheinnerroomandpickedapieceofpaperupfromthe
table.“IfIamcorrect,thisshouldshowyouthelocationofthefirstbook.”Eziotookthepaperfromherandreadwhatwasonit.“Imustadmit,”Sofiawenton,“myheadisswimmingattheprospectof
actuallyseeingthesebooks.Theycontainknowledgetheworldhaslostandshouldhaveagain.”Shesatatthetableandcuppedherchininherhands,daydreaming.“PerhapsIcouldhaveafewcopiesprintedtodistributemyself.Asmallrunoffiftyorso...Thatshouldbeenough...”Eziosmiled,thenlaughed.“What’stheretolaughabout?”“Forgiveme.Itisajoytoseesomeonewithapassionsopersonalandso
noble.Itis...inspiring.”“Goodness,”shereplied,alittleembarrassed.“Whereisthiscomingfrom?”Ezioheldupthepieceofpaper.“Iintendtogoandinvestigatethis
immediately,”hesaid.“Grazie,Sofia—Iwillreturnsoon.”“I’lllookforwardtothat,”shereplied,watchinghimgowithamixtureof
puzzlementandconcern.Whatamysteriousman,shethought,asthedoorclosedafterhim,andshe
returnedtotheWaldseemüllermap,andherowndreamsofthefuture.
THIRTY-FOUR
Sofia’scalculationshadbeencorrect.Hiddenbehindawoodenpanelinanold,desertedbuildingintheConstantineDistrictofthecity,Eziofoundthebookhewaslookingfor.Itwasanancientbutwell-preservedcopyofOnNature,thepoemwrittenover
twothousandyearsearlierbytheGreekphilosopherEmpedocles,outliningthesumofhisthoughts.Ezioliftedthebookfromitshidingplaceandblewthedustfromthesmall
volume.Thenheopenedittoablankpageatitsfront.Ashewatched,thepagebegantoglow,andwithintheglow,amapof
Constantinoplerevealeditself.Ashelookedcloser,andconcentrated,hediscernedapinpointonthemap.ItshowedtheMaidenTower,thelighthouseonthefarsideoftheBosphorus,and,asEziopeeredcloserstill,aprecisespotthere,withinthecellarsbuiltintoitsfoundations.Ifallwentwell,thiswouldbethelocationofthesecondkeytoAltaïr’slibrary
atMasyaf.HemadehiswayinhastethroughtheteemingcitytotheMaidenTower.
SlippingpasttheOttomanguardsandcrossingoverina“borrowed”boat,hefoundadoorwayfromwhichstepsleddownwardintothecellars.Heheldthebookinhishandandfoundthatitwasguidinghim.Guidinghimthroughamazeofcorridorslinedwithinnumerabledoorways.Itdidn’tseempossiblethattherecouldbesomanyinsucharelativelyconfinedspace.Butatlasthecametoadoor,identicaltoalltheothersbutthroughwhosecracksafaintlightseemedtoemanate.Thedooropenedathistouch,andthere,onalowstoneplinthbeforehim,acircularstonehadbeenplaced,slimasadiscusand,likethefirsthehaddiscovered,coveredwithstrangesymbols,asmysteriousasthefirstset,butdifferent.Theformofawoman—agoddess,perhaps—wholookedvaguelyfamiliar,indentationsthatmighteitherhavebeenformulae,orpossiblynotchesthatmightslotintopegs—maybepegswithinthekeyholesinthelibrarydooratMasyaf.AsEziotookthekeyinhishands,thelightcomingfromitgrew,andgrew,
andhebracedhimselftobetransported—heknewnotwhere—asitengulfedhim,andwhirledhimbackdowncenturies.Down320years.TotheyearofOur
Lord1191.
Masyaf.Withinthefortress,atimelongago.Figuresinaswirlingmist.Emergingfromit,ayoungmanandanold.
Evidenceofafight,whichtheoldman—AlMualim—hadlost.Helayontheground;theyoungmankneltastridehim.Hishand,losingitsstrength,letgoofsomething,whichrolledfromhisgrasp
andcametorestonthemarblefloor.Eziodrewinabreathasherecognizedtheobject—itwas—surely—theApple
ofEden.Buthow?Andtheyoungman—thevictor—inwhite,hiscowldrawnoverhishead.
Altaïr.“Youheldfireinyourhand,oldman,”hewassaying.“Itshouldhavebeen
destroyed.”“Destroyed?”laughedAlMualim.“Theonlythingcapableofendingthe
Crusadesandcreatingtruepeace?Never.”“ThenIwilldestroyit.”
Theimagesfaded,dissolved,likeghosts,onlyforanotherscenetoreplace
them.
WithintheGreatKeepatMasyaf,Altaïrstoodalonewithoneofhiscaptains.Nearthem,laidoutinhonoronastonebier,wasthebodyofAlMualim,peacefulindeath.“Isittrulyover?”theAssassincaptainwassaying.“Isthatsorcererdead?”
Altaïrturnedtolookatthebody.Hespokecalmly,levelly.“Hewasnosorcerer.Justanordinaryman,incommandof—illusions.”Heturnedbacktohiscomrade.“Haveyoupreparedthepyre?”“Ihave.”Themanhesitated.“But,Altaïr,someofthemen...theywillnot
standforsuchathing.Theyarerestive.”Altaïrbentoverthebier.Hestoopedandtooktheoldman’sbodyinhisarms.
“Letmehandleit.”Hestooderect,hisrobesflowingabouthim.“Areyoufittotravel?”heasked
thecaptain.“Wellenough,yes.”“IhaveaskedMalikAl-SayftoridetoJerusalemwiththenewsofAl
Mualim’sdeath.WillyouridetoAcreanddothesame?”“Ofcourse.”“Thengo,andGodbewithyou.”Thecaptaininclinedhisheadanddeparted.BearingthedeadMentor’sbodyinhisarms,hissuccessorstrodeoutto
confronthisfellowmembersoftheBrotherhood.Athisappearance,therewasanimmediatebabelofvoices,reflectingthe
bewildermentintheirminds.Someaskedthemselvesiftheyweredreaming.OtherswereaghastatthisphysicalconfirmationofAlMualim’spassing.“Altaïr!Explainyourself!”“Howdiditcometothis?”“Whathashappened?”OneAssassinshookhishead.“Mymindwasclear,butmybody...itwould
notmove!”Inthemidstoftheconfusion,Abbasappeared.Abbas.Altaïr’schildhood
friend.Now,thatfriendshipwasfarlesssure.Toomuchhadhappenedbetweenthem.“Whathashappenedhere?”askedAbbas,hisvoicereflectinghisshock.“OurMentorhasdeceivedusall,”Altaïrreplied.“TheTemplarscorrupted
him.”“Whereisyourproofofthat?”Abbasresponded,suspiciously.“Walkwithme,Abbas;andIwillexplain.”“AndifIfindyouranswerswanting?”“ThenIwilltalkuntilyouaresatisfied.”Theymadetheirway,AltaïrstillbearingAlMualim’sbodyinhisarms,
towardthefuneralpyrethathadbeenpreparedforit.Besidehim,Abbas,
unawareoftheirdestination,remainedtesty,tense,andcombative,unabletodisguisehismistrustofAltaïr.AndAltaïrknewwithwhatreasonandregrettedit.Buthewoulddohisbest.“Doyouremember,Abbas,theartifactwerecoveredfromtheTemplarRobert
deSable,inSolomon’sTemple?”“Youmeantheartifactyouweresenttoretrievebutothersactually
delivered?”Altaïrletthatgo.“Yes.ItisaTemplartool.ItiscalledtheAppleofEden.
Amongmanyotherpowers,itcanconjureillusionsandcontrolthemindsofmen—andofthemanwhothinkshecontrolsit.Adeadlyweapon.”Abbasshrugged.“Thenbetter,surely,thatwehaveitthantheTemplars.”Altaïrshookhishead.“Thatmakesnodifference.Itseemstocorruptallwho
wieldit.”“AndyoubelievethatAlMualimfellunderitsspell?”Altaïrmadeagestureofimpatience.“Ido.Today,heusedtheAppleinan
attempttoenslaveMasyaf.Yousawthatforyourself.”Abbaslookeddoubtful.“IdonotknowwhatIsaw.”“Listen,Abbas.TheAppleissafeinAlMualim’sstudy.WhenIamfinished
here,IwillshowyouallIknow.”Theyhadarrivedatthepyre,andAltaïrascendedthestepstoit,placingthebodyofhislateMentorreverentlyatitstop.Ashedidso,Abbaslookedaghast.Itwashisfirstsightofthepyre.“Icannotbelieveyoureallyintendtogothroughwiththis!”hesaidina
shockedvoice.Behindhim,theassembledBrotherhoodoftheAssassinsrippledlikecorninabreeze.“ImustdowhatImustdo,”Altaïrreplied.“No!”ButAltaïrhadalreadytakenoneofthetorchesthatstoodreadylitbythepyre
andthrustitintothebaseofthewoodpile.“Imustknowthathecannotreturn.”“Butthisisnotourway!Toburnaman’sbodyisforbidden!”Avoicefromthecrowdbehindhimcriedoutsuddenly,inrage:“Defiler!”Altaïrturnedtofacetherestivecrowdbelowhim.“Hearmeout!Thiscorpse
couldbejustanotheroneofAlMualim’sphantombodies.Imustbecertain!”“Lies!”Abbasyelled.Astheflamestookholdonthepyre,hesteppedinclose
toAltaïr’sside,raisinghisvoicesoallcouldhearhim.“AllyourlifeyouhavemadeamockeryofourCreed!Youbendtherulestosuityourwhimswhilebelittlingandhumiliatingthosearoundyou!”“RestrainAltaïr!”yelledanAssassininthecrowd.“Didyounothearwhathesaid?”acomradenexttohimresponded.“Al
Mualimwasbewitched!”ThefirstAssassin’sreplywastoflyoutwithhisfists.Ageneralfightensued,
whichescalatedasrapidlyastheflamesrose.OntheledgenexttoAltaïr,Abbaspushedhimviolentlydownfromit,intothe
midstofthemelee.AsAbbasthenmadehiswayfuriouslybacktothecastle,Altaïrstruggledto
findhisfeetamonghisclashingfellowAssassins,standingwiththeirswordsdrawn.“Brothers!”heshouted,strivingtorestoreorder.“Stop!Stayyourblades!”Butthefightcontinued,andAltaïr,whohadjustrisentohisfeetintimetosee
Abbasreturningtothefortress,wasforcedtostruggleamonghisownmen,disarmingthemwherehecouldandexhortingthemtodesist.Hedidnotknowforhowlonghebattled,butthestrifewassuddenlyinterruptedbyasearingflashoflight,whichcausedthecombatantstostaggerback,shieldingtheireyes.Thelightcamefromthedirectionofthecastle.Altaïr’sworstfearswererealized.There,ontheparapetofatalltower,stoodAbbas,andtheApplewasinhis
hand.“WhatdidItellyou,Altaïr?”Abbasyelleddowntohim.“Abbas!Stop!”“WhatdidyouthinkwouldhappenwhenyoumurderedourbelovedMentor?”“YoulovedAlMualimlessthananyone!Youblamedhimforallyour
misfortune,evenyourfather’ssuicide!”“Myfatherwasahero!”Abbasscreameddefiantly.AltaïrignoredhimandturnedhastilytotheAssassinsgroupedquestioningly
aroundhim.“Listen!”hetoldthem.“Thisisnotthetimetoquarreloverwhat’sbeendone.
Wemustdecide—now!—whatistobedonewiththatweapon!”HepointedtowhereAbbaswasstanding,holdingtheApplealoft.“Whateverthisartifactiscapableof,Altaïr,”hecried,“youarenotworthyto
wieldit!”“Nomanis!”Altaïrhurledback.
ButAbbaswasalreadystaringintotheApple’sglow.Thelight,ashelooked,intensified.Abbasseemedentranced.“Itisbeautiful,isitnot?”hesaid,onlyjustloudlyenoughtobeheard.Thenachangecameoverhim.Hisexpressionwastransformedfromasmile
ofamusedtriumphtoagrimaceofhorror.Hebegantoshake,violently,asthepoweroftheApplesweptintohim,takinghimover.Assassinsstillsympathetictohimwererunningtohisaidwhentheunearthlyinstrumenthestillheldinhishandthrewoutanall-but-visiblepulsewave,whichthrewthemsavagelytotheirkneesastheyclutchedtheirheadsinagony.AltaïrracedtowardAbbas,scalingthetowerwithsupernaturalspeed,driven
bydesperation.Ihavetogetthereintime!Asheapproachedhisformerfriend,Abbasbegantoscreamasifhisverysoulwasbeingrippedoutofhim.Altaïrmadeonefinalleapforward,disablinghisformerfriendandknockinghimdown.Abbascrumpledtothegroundwithadespairingcry,astheAppletumbledfromhisgrasp,sendingafinalviolentshockwaveoutfromthetowerasitdidso.Thentherewassilence.TheAssassinsspreadoutbelowgraduallypulledthemselvestogetherandgot
totheirfeet.Theylookedatoneanotherinwonderment.Whathadhappenedcontinuedtoresoundintheirbodiesandtheirminds.Theylookeduptotheramparts.NeitherAltaïrnorAbbaswasvisible.“Whatwasthat?”“Aretheydead?”AndthenAltaïrappearedaloneontheparapetofthetower.Thewindblewhis
whiterobesabouthim.Heraisedhishand.Init,secure,wastheApple.Itcrackledandpulsatedlikealivingthing,butitwasunderhiscontrol.“Forgiveme...”Abbaswasgaspingfromtheflagstonefloorbehindhim.He
couldbarelyformthewords.“Ididnotknow...”AltaïrturnedhisgazebackfromthemantotheApple,restinginhishand.It
sentcurioussensations,likeshocks,thelengthofhisextendedarm.“Haveyouanythingtoteachus?”saidAltaïr,addressingtheAppleasifit
wereasensatething.“Orwillyouleadusalltoruin?”Thewindthenseemedtoblowupaduststorm—orwasitthereturnofthe
swirlingfumesofcloudthathadheraldedthevision?Withitcametheblinding
lightthathadprecededit,growingandgrowing,untilallelsewasblottedout.Andthenitdimmedoncemore,untiltherewasjustthegentleglowofthekeyinEzio’shand.Exhausted,Ezioloweredhimselftothefloorandrestedhisbackagainstthe
stonewallofthechamber.Outside,duskwouldbefalling.Helongedforrestbutcouldaffordnone.Afteralongmoment,heraisedhimselfagainand,carefullystowingboththe
keyandthecopyofEmpedoclesinhissatchel,madehiswaytothestreetsabove.
THIRTY-FIVE
Atdawnthenextday,EziomadehiswaytotheGrandBazaar.ItwastimehesawforhimselfwhattalktheremightbeamongtheJanissaries,andhewasimpatienttobeonthetrailoftheircaptain,TarikBarleti.Butitwasimpossible,oncethere,entirelytoavoidtheimportunatetraders,
whowereallpastmastersofthehardsell.AndEziohadtopasshimselfoffasjustanothertouristforfearofarousingsuspicion,eitheramongOttomanofficialsorByzantineTemplars.“Youseethisrug!”Amerchantaccostedhim,pluckingathissleeveand,as
Eziohadfoundtobethecasesooftenthere,gettingtooclosetohim,invadinghisbodyspace.“Yourfeetwillloveyoumorethanyourwifedoes!”“Iamnotmarried.”“Ah,”continuedthemerchant,seamlessly,“youarebetteroff.Come!Justfeel
it!”EzionoticedagroupofJanissariesstandingnotfaraway.“Youhavesoldwell
today?”heaskedthemerchant.Themanspreadhishands,noddingtohisrightattheJanissaries.“Ihavenot
soldathing!TheJanissariesconfiscatedmostofmystockjustbecauseitwasimported.”“DoyouknowTarikBarleti,theircaptain?”“Eh,he’saroundheresomewhere,nodoubt.Anarrogantman,but—”The
merchantwasabouttogoonbutinterruptedhimself,freezingupbeforerevertingtohissalespatter,hiseyesfocusednotonEziobutwellbeyondhim.“Youinsultme,sir!Icannottakelessthantwohundredakçeforthis!Thatismyfinaloffer.”Ezioturnedslightlyandfollowedtheman’sgaze.ThreeJanissarieswere
approaching,notfiftyfeetaway.“WhenIfindhim,Iwillaskhimaboutyourrugs,”Eziopromisedthe
merchantquietlyasheturnedtogo.“Youdriveahardbargain,stranger!”themerchantcalledafterhim.“Shallwe
compromiseatone-eighty?Onehundredeightyakçe,andwepartasfriends!”ButEziowasnolongerlistening.Hewasfollowingthegroup,shadowing
thematasafedistance,hopingtheymightleadhimtoTarikBarleti.Theywere
notwalkingidly—theyhadthelookofmengoingtosomekindofappointment.Buthehadtobevigilant—notonlytokeephisquarryinsightbuttoavoiddetectionhimself,andthecrowdedlanesofthesoukbothhelpedandhinderedhiminhistask.ThemerchanthadsaidthecaptainwouldbesomewhereintheBazaar,buttheBazaarwasabigplace—aconfusinglabyrinthofstallsandshops,asmallcityinitself.Butatlengthhispatiencepaidoff,andthemenhewasfollowingarrivedata
crossroadsinthelaneswhichbroadenedoutintoalittlesquarewithacoffeeshoponeachcorner.Infrontofonestoodthebigcaptainwiththegrizzledbeard.Thebeardwasasmuchamarkofhisrankashisresplendentuniform.Hewasclearlynoslave.Eziocreptascloseashecould,tohearwhatwasbeingsaid.“Areyouready?”heaskedhismen,andtheynoddedtheirassent.“Thisisan
importantmeeting.MakesureIamnotbeingfollowed.”Theynoddedagainandsplitup,disappearingintotheBazaarindifferent
directions.EzioknewtheywouldbelookingforanysignofanAssassininthecrowds,andforoneheartstoppingmomentoneofthesoldiersseemedtocatchhiseye,butthenthemomentpassed,andthemanwasgone.Waitingaslongashedared,hesetoffinpursuitofthecaptain.Barletihadn’tgonefarbeforehecametoanotherJanissary,alieutenant,who
tothecasualeyewouldhavejustseemedtobewindow-shoppinginfrontofanarmorer’sestablishment.EziohadalreadynoticedthatJanissariesweretheonlypeoplenottobebadgeredbythetraders.“Whatnews?”Barletisaidashedrewlevelwiththesoldier.“Manuelhasagreedtomeetyou,Tarik.He’swaitingbytheArsenalGate.”Ezioprickeduphisearsatthename.“Aneageroldweasel,isn’the?”Tariksaidflatly.“Come.”Theysetoff,outoftheBazaar,andintothecitystreets.Itwasalongwayto
theArsenal,whichwassituatedonthenorthsideoftheGoldenHorn,farthertothewest,buttheyshowednosignoftakinganykindoftransportyet,andEziofollowedthemonfoot.Amatterofacoupleofmiles—andhewouldhavetobecarefulwhentheytooktheferryacrosstheHorn.Buthistaskwasmadeeasierbythefactthatthetwomenwereengrossedinconversation,mostofwhichEziomanagedtocatch.Itwasnothardtoblendin,inthestreetsofConstantinople,crowdedwithpeoplefromalloverEuropeandAsia.“HowdidManuellook?Washenervous?Orcagey?”Tarikasked.“Hewashisusualself.Impatientanddiscourteous.”
“Hmn.Isupposehehasearnedthatright.Havetherebeendispatchesfromthesultan?”“Thelastnewswasaweekago.Bayezid’sletterwasshortandfullofsad
tidings.”Tarikshookhishead.“Icouldnotimaginebeingatsuchoddswithmyown
son.”
THIRTY-SIX
EziofollowedthetwoJanissariestoabuildingclosebytheArsenalGate.WaitingforTarikandhislieutenantwasalarge,plump,expensivelydressedmaninhislatefifties,sportingafullgreybeardandwaxedmustaches.Hisfeatheredturbanwasencrustedwithjewels,andtherewasajeweledringoneachofhispudgyfingers.Hiscompanionwasthinner,sparelybuilt,and,tojudgefromhisdress,hailedfromTurkmenistan.Ezio,havingselectedasuitableplacetomakehimselfinvisible,hiding
discreetlyamongtheheavybranchesofatamarindtreethatgrewcloseby,paidcloseattentionaspreliminarygreetingswereexchangedandlearnedthattheplumpdandywas—ashe’dsuspected—ManuelPalaiologos.Givenwhathe’dheardfromYusufaboutManuel’sambitions,thismeetingwouldbeaninterestingonetolisteninon.Palaiologos’scompanion,alsohisbodyguard,asbecameapparentastheintroductionsweremade,wentbythenameofShahkulu.Eziohadheardofhim.ShahkuluwasarebelagainsttheOttomanrulersofhis
country,andtherumorswerethathewasfomentingrevolutionamonghispeople.Buthealsohadareputationforextremecrueltyandbanditry.Yes,thismeetingwouldindeedbeinteresting.Oncetheniceties—alwayselaborate,inthiscountry,Eziohadnoticed—had
beendealtwith,ManuelgesturedtoShahkulu,whoenteredthebuildingbehindthem—akindofguardpost,nowevidentlydeserted—andfromitbroughtasmallbutheavywoodenchest,whichheplacedatTarik’sfeet.TheJanissarylieutenantopeneditandbegancountingthegoldcoinswithwhichitwasfilled.“Youmayverifytheamount,Tarik,”Manuelsaidinavoiceasplummyashis
body,“butthemoneystayswithmeuntilIhaveseenthecargoformyselfandascertaineditsquality.”Tarikgrunted.“Understood.Youareashrewdman,Manuel.”“Trustwithoutcynicismishollow,”intonedPalaiologos,unctuously.TheJanissaryhadbeencountingfast.Soonafterward,heclosedthechest.
“Thecountisgood,Tarik,”hesaid.“It’sallhere.”“So,”saidManueltoTarik.“Whatnow?”“YouwillhaveaccesstotheArsenal.Whenyouaresatisfied,thecargowill
bedeliveredtoalocationofyourchoosing.”
“Areyourmenpreparedtotravel?”“Notaproblem.”“Poikalà.”TheByzantineprincelingrelaxedalittle.“Verygood.Iwillhave
amapdrawnupforyouwithinaweek.”Theypartedcompanythen,andEziowaiteduntilthecoastwasclearbeforehe
climbeddownfromthetreeandmadehiswaywithallpossiblehastetotheAssassins’headquarters.
THIRTY-SEVEN
ItwasduskwhenEzioreturnedtotheArsenalandfoundYusufalreadytherewaitingforhim.“Oneofmymenclaimshesawashipmentofweaponsbroughtinhereearlier.
Sowegotcurious.”Ezioponderedthis.Itwasashehadsuspected.“Weapons.”Hepaused.“I
wouldliketoseethemformyself.”HescannedtheouterwallsoftheArsenal.Theywerewellguarded.Themain
gatelookedimpregnable.“Shortofkillingeveryoneinsight,”Yusufsaid,followinghisMentor’s
thoughts,“I’mnotsurehowyouwillgetinside.”Thesquarebehindthemwasstillteemingwithlife—peoplehurryinghome
afterwork,coffeebarsandrestaurantsopeningtheirdoors.Suddenly,theirattentionwasdrawntoanaltercationthathadbrokenoutnearthemaingateintheArsenalwalls,betweenatraderandthreeJanissaries,whowereharassinghim.“Youhavebeenwarnedtwice,”oneoftheJanissaries,asergeant,wassaying.
“NomerchantsneartheArsenalwalls!”Heturnedtohismen.“Takethisstuffaway!”Theprivatesstartedtopickupthetrader’scratesoffruitandcarrythemaway.“Hypocrites!”themangrumbled.“Ifyourmendidn’tbuymyproduce,I
wouldn’tbesellingithereinthefirstplace!”Thesergeantignoredhim,andthesoldierswentonwiththeirwork,butthe
traderhadn’tfinished.Hewentrightuptothesergeant,andsaid,“YouareworsethantheByzantines,youtraitor!”Bywayofreply,theJanissarysergeantwhackedhimwithahardfist.He
collapsed,groaning,holdinghisbleedingnose.“Holdyourtongue,parasite!”growledthesergeant.Heturnedawaytosupervisethecontinuingconfiscationofthefruit,whilea
womanfromthecrowdrusheduptohelptheinjuredtrader.YusufandEziowatchedasshehelpedhimtohisfeet,staunchingthebloodfromhisfacewithahandkerchief.“Evenintimesofpeace,”saidYusufgrimly,“thepoorarealwaysunder
siege.”Eziowasthoughtful,thinkingofsimilarcircumstancesinRomenotsolong
ago.“Perhapsifweinspirethemtoventtheiranger,thatwillhelpourcause.”Yusuflookedathim.“Youmean—recruitthesepeople?Incitethemtorebel?”“Itneedonlybeademonstration.But,withenoughofthemonourside...”ThetwomenwatchedastheJanissaries,unimpeded,proceededtocarryoff
whatwasleftoftheman’sstock,leavinghisstallcompletelybare.Theydisappearedthroughawicketinthemaingate.“Feigningsolidaritytopushyourownagenda,”saidYusufwithahintof
contempt.“Whatagentleman!”“It’snotpretty,Iknow.Butitwillwork,believeme.”“Whateverworks.”Yusufshrugged.“AndIseenootherwayofeffectinga
break-inhere.”“Come—there’sabigcrowdhere,anditlooksasifthattraderispretty
popular.Let’sgoanddosomecanvassingamongthepeople.”Forthenexthalfhourandmore,EzioandYusufworkedthecrowd,hinting
andpersuading,cajolingandinspiringtheordinaryworkingpeoplearoundthem,whomtheyfoundtobeveryopentotheideaofputtinganendtotheiroppression.Alltheyhadneeded,itseemed,wassomeonetofirethemup.Onceasufficientnumberhadgatheredintoamob,Ezioaddressedthem.Thefruittraderstoodbyhisside,defiantnow.Yusufhadseentoitthatmostofthemenandwomenhadarmedthemselvesinonewayandanother.Thefruittraderheldalargecurvedpruningknife.“Fightwithus,brothers,”Eziodeclaimed.“Andavengethisinjustice.The
Janissariesarenotabovethelaw!Let’sshowthemwewon’tstandfortheirtyranny.”“Yes!”severalvoicesroared.“Itmakesmesicktoseethekindofabusetheyhandout,”Eziocontinued.
“Doesn’tityou?”“Yes!”“Willyoufightwithus?”“Yes!”“Then—let’sgo!”
Bythen,adetachmentofarmedJanissarieshadissuedforthfromtheArsenal
Gate,whichwasfirmlyclosedbehindthem.Theytookuppositionsinfrontofit,swordsdrawn,andfacedthemob,whosemoodhadreachedtheboilingpoint.Undauntedbythesoldiers’showofstrength—indeed,incensedbyit—thecrowd,whosevolumegrewbytheminute,surgedforwardtowardthegate.WheneveraJanissarywasrashenoughtoclosewithpeopleinthefrontrank,hewasovercomebythesheerweightofnumbersandeitherhurledasideorcrushedunderadvancingfeet.Soonafterward,thecrowdwasmillingaboutatthegateitself,withEzioandYusufkeepingjustenoughcommandtodirecttheirimprovisedstrikeforcetobatteritopen.“DownwiththeJanissaries!”shoutedahundredvoices.“Youarenotabovethelaw!”yelledahundredmore.“Openthegate,youcoward,beforewetearitdown!”“Thatgatewon’tstayclosedforlong,”saidEziotoYusuf.“Thepeoplearedoingyouafavor,Mentor.Returnitandkeepthemsafefrom
harm.”AsYusufspoke,twodetachmentsofJanissaryreinforcementsboredownon
thecrowdfromrightandleft,havingemergedfromsidegatesinthenorthandsouthwalls.“Thiscallsforclose-quartersfighting,”Eziosaid,as,accompaniedbyYusuf,
heunleashedhishookbladeandhishidden-blade,andthrewhimselfintothefray.EncouragedbytheprofessionalskillsofthetwoAssassins,themenand
womenoneachflankofthecrowdturnedbravelytofacetheJanissarycounterattack.AsfortheJanissaries,theyweretakenabacktoencountersuchfirmresistancefromsuchanunexpectedquarter,andtheyhesitated—fatally—andwererepulsed.Inthemeantime,thoseworkingonthegatewererewardedtoseethefirmplanksofitsdoorsfirstgroan,thengive,thenbuckle,thencrumble.Withamightycrack,themaincrossbeamholdingthegateshutfromwithinsnappedlikematchwood,andthegatefellback,itsdoorshangingdrunkenlyfromtheirmassiveironhinges.Thecrowdroaredwithonevoice,likeagreattriumphantbeast,andasthey
pouredintotheArsenal,individualvoicescouldbeheardraisedabovetherest:“Pushthrough!”“We’reinside!”“Justiceordeath!”ThedefendingJanissarieswithinwerepowerlesstopreventtheonrushbut,
withtheirgreaterdiscipline,managedtoholditincheckasferociousfighting
brokeoutintheArsenal’smainquadrangle.Throughitall,Ezioslippedlikeawraith,intotheinnerconfinesofthefortress-likeedifice.
THIRTY-EIGHT
Farfromtheshatteredgate,deepwithinthewesternsectoroftheArsenal,Eziocameatlasttotheplacehewaslookingfor.Itwasquietthere,formostofthefightingmenintheArsenalgarrisonwereengagedinthequadrangle,andthehandfulofguardshedidencounter,ifhecouldnotslippastthemunnoticed,heswiftlydispatched.Hewouldhavetosharpenhishookbladeoncehisworktherewasdone.Hemadehiswaydownalongstonecorridor,sonarrowthatnoonecould
enterthechamberatitsendwithanyhopeofsurprisingthosewithin.Ezioapproachedslowly,soft-footed,untilhecametoanironladderfixedtothewallnearthechamber’sentrance,whichledtoagalleryoverlookingit.Strappinghisswordscabbardtohislegsothatitwouldnotclatter,heclimbedup,swiftly,andwithaslittlenoiseasaflowermakeswhenitopens.Fromhisvantagepoint,hestaredgrimlyatthescenetakingplacebelowhim.ManuelandShahkulustoodinthemiddleofthechamber,surroundedbya
jumbleoflargecrates,someofthemopen.AsmallJanissaryguardunitstoodatattentionjustinsidethedoor.IfEziohadtriedtoenter,hewouldhavefallenvictimtoanambush.Softly,hebreathedasighofrelief.Hisinstinctsandexperiencehadsavedhim,thistime.Manuelpausedinhisexaminationofthecontentsofthecrates.Theangleof
visionavailabletoEziodidnotallowhimtoseewhattheywere,thoughhecouldguess.“Twentyyearsinthiscity,livinglikeacipher,”Manuelwassaying.“And
now,atlast,everythingisfallingintoplace.”Shahkulureplied,anoteofmenaceinhisvoice:“WhenthePalaiologoslineis
restored,Manuel,donotforgetwhoitwasthathelpedyoubringitback.”Manuellookedathimkeenly,smalleyesglitteringcoldlyamidthefoldsof
flesh.“Ofcoursenot,myfriend!Iwouldnotdreamofbetrayingamanofyourinfluence.Butyoumustbepatient.NovaRomawasnotbuiltinaday!”Shahkulugruntednoncommittally,andManuelturnedtothecaptainofhis
escort.“Iamsatisfied.Takemetomyship.”“Followme.Thereisapassagetothewestgatebywhichwecanavoidthe
fighting,”saidthecaptain.
“Ihopeandexpectyouwillsoonhavethatundercontrol.”“Aswespeak,Prince.”“Ifonesingleitemhereisdamaged,themoneystayswithme.TellTarikthat.”
Eziowatchedthemgo.Whenhewassatisfiedthathewasalone,hedescendedtothechamberandmadeaquickinspectionofthecrates,liftingthelidofonethathadbeenunsealed.Rifles.Onehundredormore.“Merda!”Eziobreathed.Histhoughtswereinterruptedbyabrazenclang—surelythewestgate
bangingshutafterManuel’sdeparture.Immediatelyafterward,thesoundofbootsonstoneapproaching.TheJanissarieswouldbereturningtoresealtheopenedcrates.Eziopressedhimselfagainstthewall,and,asthesoldiersentered,cutthemdown.Fiveofthem.Ifthey’dbeenabletoentertogether,insteadofoneatatime,thestorymighthavebeendifferent.Butthenarrowcorridorhadturnedouttobehisfriend.Hepassedbackthewayhehadcome.Inthequadrangle,thebattlewasover,
leavingtheusualvileaftermathofcombat.Eziowalkedslowlypastaseaofbodies,mostlystill,somewrithingintheirlastagonies,whiletheonlysoundwasthekeeningofwomenastheykneltbythefallen,inthepitilesswindthatblewthroughtheyawninggateway.Withhisheadbowed,Eziostrodefromtheplace.Thepricepaidforthe
knowledgehehadgainedseemedveryhighindeed.
THIRTY-NINE
ItwashightimetoreturntoSofia’sbookshop.Hehurriedtherestraightaway.Theshopwasstillopen,andlightswithinburnedbrightly.WhenshesawEzio
enter,Sofiatookoffhereyeglassesandgotupfromtheworktableintheinnerroom,wherethemaphe’ddiscoveredinYerebatanwasspreadout,amidseveralopenbooks.“Salute.”Shegreetedhim.Closingthedoorbehindhimandpullingdownthe
blinds.“TimeIclosedfortheday.Twocustomersallafternoon.Iaskyou.It’snotworthstayingopenfortheeveningtrade.”ThenshesawtheexpressiononEzio’sfaceandledhimtoachair,wherehesat,heavily,asshefetchedhimaglassofwine.“Grazie,”hesaidgratefully,gladshedidn’tstartaskingquestions.Instead,shesaid,“I’mclosinginontwomorebooks—onenearTokapiSaray,
andtheotherintheBayezidDistrict.”“Let’strytheBayezidfirst.TheTopkapiwillbeadeadend.Itwastherethat
theTemplarsdiscoveredthekeytheyhave.”“Ah—sì.Theymusthavefounditbychance,orbyothermeansthanours.”“TheyhadNiccolò’sbook.”“ThenwemustthanktheMotherofGodthatyourescueditfromthembefore
theycoulduseitfurther.”Shereturnedtothemap,seatedherselfbeforeit,andresumedwriting.Ezio
leanedforwardand,producingthecopyofEmpedocles,placeditonthetablebyher.Thesecondkeythathehadfoundhadalreadyjoinedthefirst,undersecureguard,attheAssassins’headquartersinGalata.“Whatdoyoumakeofthis?”hesaid.Shepickeditupcarefully,turningitoverreverentlyinherhands.Herhands
weredelicatebutnotbony,andthefingerswerelongandslender.Herjawhaddroppedinwonder.“Oh,Ezio!Èincredibile!”“Worthsomething?”“AcopyofOnNatureinthiscondition?InitsoriginalCopticbinding?It’s
fantastic!”Sheopeneditcarefully.Thecodedmapwithinnolongerglowed.Infact,Eziocouldseethatitwasnolongervisible.“Amazing.Thismustbeathird-centurytranscriptionoftheoriginal,”Sofia
wassaying,enthusiastically.“Idon’tsupposethere’sanothercopylikethisinexistence.”ButEzio’seyeswererestlesslyscanningtheroom.Somethinghadchanged,
andhecouldnotyetputhisfingeronwhatitwas.Atlast,hisgazecametorestonaboarded-upwindow.Theglasswasgonefromitspanes.“Sofia,”hesaid,concerned.“Whathappenedhere?”Hervoicetookonaslightirritationthoughclearlyoverriddenbyher
excitement.“Oh,thathappensonceortwiceayear.Peopletrytobreakin,thinkingtheywillfindmoney.”Shepaused.“Idonotkeepmuchhere,butthistimetheysucceededandmadeoffwithaportraitofsomevalue.Nomorethanthreehoursago,whenIwasoutoftheshopforashorttime.”Shelookedsad.“Averygoodportraitofme,asithappens.Ishallmissit,andnotjustforwhatitisworth.I’mcertainlygoingtofindaverysafeplaceforthis,”sheadded,tappingtheEmpedocles.Eziowasstillsuspiciousthattheremightbemorebehindthispaintingtheft
thanmettheeye.Heroamedthroughtheroom,lookingforanycluesitmightaffordhim.Thenhecametoadecision.Hewasrestedenoughforthemoment,andheowedthiswomanafavor.Buttherewasmoretoitthanthat.Hewantedtodowhateverhecouldforher.“Youkeepworking,”hesaid.“Iwillfindyourpaintingforyou.”“Ezio,thethiefcouldbeanywherebynow.”“Ifthethiefcameformoney,foundnone,andtooktheportraitinstead,he
shouldstillbeinthisdistrict,closeby,eagertogetridofit.”Sofialookedthoughtful.“Thereareacoupleofstreetsnearherewherea
numberofartdealersdobusiness...”Eziowasalreadyhalfwaytothedoor.“Wait!”shecalledafterhim.“Ihavesomebusinessinthatdirection.I’llshow
youtheway.”HewaitedasshelockedtheOnNaturecarefullyinanironcladchestbyone
wall,thenfollowedherasshelefttheshopandlockedthedoorfirmlybehindher.“Thisway,”shesaid.“Butwepartcompanyatthefirstturning.I’llpointyou
intherightdirectionfromthere.”Theywalkedoninsilence.Afewdozenyardsdownthestreet,theycametoa
crossroads,andshehalted.“Downthere,”shesaid,pointing.Thenshelookedathim.Therewas
somethinginhercleareyesthathehopedhewasn’timagining.
“Ifyouhappentofinditwithinthenextcoupleofhours,pleasecomeandmeetmebyValens’Aqueduct,”shesaid.“There’sabookfairIneedtoattend,butI’dbesogladtoseeyouthere.”“Iwilldomybest.”Shelookedathimagain,thenaway,quickly.“Iknowyouwill,”shesaid.“Thankyou,Ezio.”
FORTY
Thepicturedealers’quarterwasn’thardtofind—acoupleofnarrowstreetsrunningparalleltooneanother,thelittleshopsglowinginthelamplightthatshoneonthetreasurestheyheld.Eziopassedslowlyfromonetoanother,lookingatthepeoplebrowsingtheart
morethantheartitself,andbeforetoolonghesawashifty-lookingcharacteringaudyclothescomingoutofoneofthegalleries,engrossedincountingoutcoinsfromaleatherpurse.Ezioapproachedhim.Themanwasimmediatelyonthedefensive.“Whatdoyouwant?”heasked,nervously.“Justmadeasale,haveyou?”Themandrewhimselfup.“Ifit’sanybusinessofyours...”“Portraitofalady?”ThemantookaswipeatEzioandpreparedtoduckandrun,butEziowasa
littletooquickforhim.Hetrippedhimupandsenthimsprawling.Coinsscatteredeverywhereonthecobbles.“Pickthemupandgivethemtome,”saidEzio.“Ihavedonenothing,”snarledtheman,obeyingnevertheless.“Youcan’t
proveadamnthing!”“Idon’tneedto,”Eziosnarledback.“I’lljustkeephittingyouuntilyoutalk.”Theman’stonechangedtoawhine.“Ifoundthatpainting.Imean—someone
gaveittome.”Eziowhackedhim.“Getyourstorystraightbeforeyoulietomyface.”“Godhelpme!”themanwailed.“Hehasmuchbetterthingstodothanansweryourprayers.”ThemanfinishedhistaskandhandedthefullpursemeeklytoEzio,who
pulledhimuprightandpinnedhimtoanearbywall.“Idonotcarehowyougotthepainting,”saidEzio.“Justtellmewhereitis.”“Isoldittoamerchanthere.Foralousytwohundredaçke.”Theman’svoice
brokeasheindicatedtheshop.“HowelsewillIfeedmyself?”“Nexttime,findanicerwaytobeacanaglia.”Ezioletthemango,andhescamperedoffdownthelane,cursing.Ezio
watchedhimforamoment,thenmadehiswayintothegallery.
Helookedcarefullyamongthepicturesandsculpturesonsale.Itwasn’thardtospotwhathewasafter,asthegalleryownerhadjustfinishedhangingit.Itwasn’talargepainting,butitwasbeautiful—ahead-and-shoulders,three-quarter-profileportraitofSofia,afewyearsyounger,herhairinringlets,wearinganecklaceofjetanddiamondstones,ablackribbontiedtotheleftfrontshoulderofherbronzesatindress.EzioguesseditmusthavebeendonefortheSartorfamilywhenMeisterDürerwasbrieflyresidentinVenice.Thegalleryowner,seeinghimadmiringit,cameuptohim.“That’sforsale,of
course,ifyoulikethelookofit.”Hestoodbackalittle,sharingthetreasurewithhisprospectiveclient.“Aluminousportrait.Youseehowlifelikeshelooks.Herbeautyshinesthrough!”“Howmuchdoyouwantforit?”Thegalleryownerhemmedandhawed.“Hardtoputapriceonthepriceless,
isn’tit?”Hepaused.“ButIcanseeyouareaconnoisseur.Shallwesay...fivehundred?”“Youpaidtwohundred.”Themanhelduphishands,aghast.“Efendim!AsifIwouldtakesuch
advantageofamanlikeyou!Inanycase—howdoyouknow?”“I’vejusthadawordwiththevendor.Notfiveminutesago.”ThegalleryownerclearlysawthatEziowasnotamantobetrifledwith.“Ah!
Indeed.ButIhavemyoverheads,youknow...”“You’veonlyjusthungit.Iwatchedyou.”Thegalleryownerlookeddistressed.“Verywell...fourhundred,then?”Ezioglared.“Threehundred?Two-fifty?”Ezioplacedthepursecarefullyintheman’shand.“Twohundred.Thereitis.
Countitifyoulike.”“I’llhavetowrapit.”“Ihopeyoudon’texpectextraforthat.”Grumblingsottovoce,themanunhookedthepictureandwrappeditcarefully
incottonsheeting,whichhedrewfromaboltbytheshopcounter.ThenhepassedittoEzio.“Apleasuredoingbusinesswithyou,”hesaid,drily.“Nexttime,don’tbesoeagertotakestolengoods,”saidEzio.“Youmight
havehadacustomerwhowantedtheprovenanceonapaintingasgoodasthisone.Luckilyforyou,I’mpreparedtooverlookthat.”“Andwhy,mightoneask?”“I’mafriendofthesitter.”
Flabbergasted,thegalleryownerbowedhimoutoftheshop,withasmuchhasteaspolitenesspermitted.“Apleasuredoingbusinesswithyou,too,”saidEzio,aridly,inparting.
FORTY-ONE
UnabletokeeparendezvouswithSofiathatevening,EziosentheranotearrangingtomeetthefollowingdayattheBayezidMosque,wherehewouldgiveherbackthepicture.Whenhearrived,hefoundheralreadythere,waitingforhim.Inthedappled
sunlight,hethoughthersobeautifulthattheportraitscarcelydidherjustice.“It’sagoodlikeness,don’tyouthink?”shesaid,asheunwrappeditand
handedittoher.“Iprefertheoriginal.”Sheelbowedhimplayfully.“Buffone,”shesaid,astheybeganwalking.“This
wasagiftfrommyfatherwhenwewereinVeniceformytwenty-eighthbirthday.”Shepausedinreminiscence.“IhadtositforMeisterAlbrechtDürerforafullweek.Canyouimagine?Mesittingstillforsevendays?Doingnothing?”“Icannot.”“Unatortura!”They’darrivedatanearbybench,onwhichshesat,asEziosuppresseda
laughatthethoughtofherposing,tryingnottomoveamuscle,forallthattime.Buttheresulthadcertainlybeenworthit—eventhoughhereallydidprefertheoriginal.Thelaughterdiedonhislipsassheproducedaslipofpaper;hisexpression
immediatelybecameserious,asdidhers.“Onegoodturn...”shesaid.“I’vefoundyouanotherbooklocation.Andit’s
notfarfromhere,actually.”Shehandedhimthefoldedslip.Hetookitandreadit.“Grazie,”hesaid.Thewomanwasagenius.Henoddedgravelytoherand
madetogo,butshestoppedhimwithaquestion.“Ezio—whatisthisallabout?You’renotascholar,thatmuchisclear.”She
eyedhissword.“Nooffense,ofcourse!”Shepaused.“DoyouworkfortheChurch?”Eziogaveanamusedlaugh.“NottheChurch,no.ButIamateacher...ofa
kind.”“Whatthen?”
“Iwillexplainoneday,Sofia.WhenIcan.”Shenodded,disappointed,butnot—ashecouldsee—actuallydevastated.She
hadsenseenoughtowait.
FORTY-TWO
ThedecodedcipherledEziotoanancientedificebarelythreeblocksdistant,inthecenteroftheBayezidDistrict.Itseemedoncetohavebeenawarehouse,currentlyindisuse,andlookedsecurelyshut,butthedoor,whenhetriedit,wasunlocked.Cautiously,lookingupanddownthestreetforanysignofeitherOttomanguardsorJanissaries,heentered,followingtheinstructionsonthepaperheheldinhishand.Heclimbedastaircasetothefirstfloorandwentdownacorridor,attheend
ofwhichhefoundasmallroom,anoffice,coveredindust;butitsshelveswerestillfullofledgers,andonthedesklayapensetandapaperknife.Heexaminedtheroomcarefully,butitswallsseemedtoholdnoclueatallaboutwhathesought,untilatlasthiskeeneyesnoticedadiscrepancyinthetileworkthatsurroundedthefireplace.Heexploredthiswithhisfingers,delicately,findingthatonetilemovedunder
histouch.Usingthepaperknifefromthedesk,hedislodgedit,listeningallthetimeforthesoundofanymovementfrombelow—thoughhewascertainnoonehadnoticedhimenterthebuilding.Thetilecameawayafteronlyamoment’swork,revealingbehinditawooden
panel,whichheremoved,seeinginthefaintlightbehinditabook,whichhewithdrewcarefully.Asmall,veryold,book.Hepeeredatthetitleonitsspine:theversionofAesop’sFablesputintoversebySocrateswhilehewasundersentenceofdeath.Heblewthedustfromitandexpectantlyopenedittoablankpageatthefront.
There,ashehadhoped,amapofConstantinoplerevealeditself.Hescanneditcarefully,patiently,concentrating.Andasthepageglowedwithanunearthlylight,hecouldseethattheGalataTowerwaspinpointedonit.Stowingthebookcarefullyinhisbeltwallet,heleftthebuildingandmadehiswaynorththroughthecity,takingtheferryacrosstheGoldenHorntoaquaynearthefootofthetower.Hehadtouseallhisblending-inskillstogetpasttheguardsbut,onceinside,
wasguidedbythebook,whichtookhimupawindingstonestaircasetoalandingbetweenfloors.Itappearedtocontainnothingbeyonditsbarestonewalls.
Eziodouble-checkedwiththebookandverifiedthathewasintherightplace.Hesearchedthewallswithhishands,feelingforanygiveawaycrevicethatmightindicateahiddenaperture,tensingatthesoundoftheslightestfootfallonthestairway,butnoneapproached.Atlasthefoundagapbetweenthestoneworkthatwasnotfilledwithmortar,andfolloweditwithhisfingers,disclosingwhatwasaverynarrow,concealeddoorway.Alittlemoreresearchledhimtopushgentlyagainstthesurroundingstones
untilhefoundoneaboutthreefeetfromthefloorthatgaveslightly,allowingthedoortoswingback,revealing,withinthedepthofthetower’swall,asmallroom,scarcelybigenoughtoenter.Inside,onanarrowcolumn,restedanothercircularstonekey—histhird.Hesqueezedintothespacetoretrieveit,andashedidso,itbegantoglow,itslightincreasingfast,astheroominturnseemedtogrowinvolume,andEziofelthimselftransportedtoanothertime,anotherplace.Asthelightwasreducedtoanormalbrightness,thebrightnessofsunshine,
EziosawMasyafagain.Buttimehadmovedon.Inhisheart,Ezioknewthatmanyyearshadpassed.Hehadnoideawhetherornothewasdreaming.Itseemedtobeadream,ashewasnotpartofit;butatthesametime,somehow,hewasinvolved,andaswellashavingthefeelingofdreaming,theexperiencewasalso,insomewayEziocouldnotdefine,likeamemory.Disembodied,atonewiththescenethatpresenteditselftohim,yetnopartof
it,hewatched,andwaited...Andthereagainwastheyoungmaninwhite,thoughnolongeryoung;whole
decadesmusthavepassed.Andhislookwastroubled...
FORTY-THREE
Altaïr,nowinhissixties,butstillaleanandvigorousman,satonastonebenchoutsideadwellinginthevillageofMasyaf,thinking.Hewasnostrangertoadversity,anddisasterseemed,onceagain,poisedtostrike.Buthehadkeptthegreat,terribleartifactsafethroughitall.Howmuchlongerwouldhisstrengthhold,todoso?HowmuchlongerwouldhisbackrefusetobuckleundertheblowsDestinyrainedonit?Hisponderingswereinterrupted—andtheinterruptionwasnotunwelcome—
bytheappearanceofhiswife,MariaThorpe,theEnglishwomanwhohadonce—longago—beenhisenemy,awomanwhohadlongedtobecountedamongtheCompanyoftheTemplars.Timeandchancehadchangedallthat.Bythen,afteralongexile,theyhad
returnedtoMasyaf.AndtheyfacedFatetogether.Shejoinedhimonthebench,sensinghisloweredspirits.Hetoldherhisnews.“TheTemplarshaveretakentheirArchiveonCyprus.AbbasSofiansentno
reinforcementstoaidthedefenders.Itwasamassacre.”Maria’slipspartedinanexpressionofsurpriseanddismay.“HowcouldGod
havepermittedthis?”“Maria,listentome.WhenweleftMasyaftenlongyearsago,ourOrderwas
strong.Butsincethen,allourprogress—allthatwebuilt—hasbeenundone,dismantled.”Herfacewasamaskofquietfury.“Abbasmustanswerforthis.”“Answertowhom?”repliedAltaïr,angrily.“TheAssassinsobeyonlyhis
commandnow.”Sheplacedahandonhisarm.“Resistyourdesireforrevenge,Altaïr.Ifyou
speakthetruth,theywillseetheerroroftheirways.”“Abbasexecutedouryoungestson,Maria!Hedeservestodie!”“Yes.ButifyoucannotwinbacktheBrotherhoodbyhonorablemeans,its
foundationwillcrumble.”Altaïrdidn’treplyforamomentbutsatsilently,brooding,thesubjectofsome
deepinnerstruggle.Butatlasthelookedup,andhisfacehadcleared.“Youareright,Maria,”hesaid,calmly.“Thirtyyearsago,Iletpassion
overtakemyreason.Iwasheadstrongandambitious,andIcausedariftwithin
theBrotherhoodthathasneverfullyhealed.”Herose,andMariarosewithhim.Slowly,immersedinconversation,they
walkedthroughthedustyvillage.“Speakreasonably,Altaïr,andreasonablemenwilllisten,”sheencouraged
him.“Somewill,perhaps.ButnotAbbas.”Altaïrshookhishead.“Ishouldhave
expelledhimthirtyyearsagowhenhetriedtostealtheApple.”“Butmydear,youearnedtherespectoftheotherAssassinsbecauseyouwere
merciful—youlethimstay.”Hesmiledatherslyly.“Howdoyouknowallthis?Youweren’teventhere.”Shereturnedhissmile.“Imarriedamasterstoryteller,”shereplied,lightly.Astheywalked,theycameintoviewofthemassivehulkofthecastle.But
therewasanairofneglecthangingoverit,ofdesolation,even.“Lookatthisplace,”growledAltaïr.“Masyafisashadowofitsformerself.”“Wehavebeenawayalongtime,”Mariaremindedhim,gently.“Butnotinhiding,”hesaid,testily.“ThethreatfromtheMongols—theStorm
fromtheEast,thehordesledbyKhanGenghis—demandedourattention,andwerodetomeetit.Whatmanherecansaythesame?”Theywalkedon.Alittlelater,Mariabroketheirsilencebysaying,“Whereis
oureldestson?DoesDarimknowthathisbrotherisdead?”“IsentDarimamessagefourdaysago.Withluck,itwillhavereachedhimby
now.”“Thenwemayseehimsoon.”“IfGodwillsit.”Altaïrpaused.“Youknow,whenIthinkofAbbas,Ialmost
pityhim.Hewearshisgreatgrudgeagainstuslikeacloak.”“Hiswoundisdeep,mydarling.Perhaps...perhapsitwillhelphimtohear
thetruth.”ButAltaïrshookhishead.“Itwillnotmatter,notwithhim.Awoundedheart
seesallwisdomasthepointofaknife.”Hepausedagain,lookingaroundhim,atthehandfulofvillagerswhopassedthemwiththeireyeseitherloweredoraverted.“AsIwalkthroughthisvillage,Isensegreatfearinthepeople,notlove.”“Abbashastakenthisplaceapartandrobbeditofalljoy.”Altaïrstoppedinhistracksandlookedgravelyathiswife.Hesearchedher
face,linednow,butstillbeautiful,andtheeyesstillclear,thoughhefanciedhesawreflectedinthemalltheyhadbeenthroughtogether.“Wemaybewalkingtoourdoom,Maria.”
Shetookhishand.“Wemay.Butwewalktogether.”
FORTY-FOUR
MariaandAltaïrhadreachedtheconfinesofthecastleandbegantoencounterAssassins—membersoftheBrotherhood—whoknewthem.Butthemeetingswerefarfromfriendly.Oneapproachedthemandmadetopassbywithoutacknowledgment,but
Altaïrstoppedhim.“Brother.Speakwithusamoment.”Unwillingly,theAssassinturned.Buthisexpressionwasstern.“Forwhat
reasonshouldIspeakwithyou?Sothatyoucantwistmymindintoknotswiththatdevilishartifactofyours?”Andhehurriedaway,refusingtotalkanyfurther.ButhardonhisheelscameanotherAssassin.He,too,however,clearlywished
toavoidanycontactwiththeformerMentorandhiswife.“Areyouwell,brother?”askedAltaïr,accostinghim,andtherewassomething
challenginginhistone.“Whoisasking?”hereplied,rudely.“Doyounotrecognizeme?IamAltaïr.”Helookedathimlevelly.“Thatnamehasahollowsound,andyou—youarea
cipher,nothingmore.Iwouldlearnmoretalkingtothewind.”Theymadetheirwayunchallengedtothecastlegardens.Oncethere,they
knewwhytheyhadbeenallowedtopenetratesofar.Suddenly,theyweresurroundedbydark-cladAssassins,loyaltotheirusurpingMentor,Abbas,andtheystoodreadytostrikeatanymoment.Then,onarampartabovethem,Abbashimselfappeared,sneeringlyincontrol.“Letthemspeak,”heorderedinanimperiousvoice.ToAltaïrandMaria,he
said:“Whyhaveyoucomehere?Whyhaveyoureturned,unwelcomeasyouare,tothisplace?Todefileitfurther?”“Weseekthetruthaboutourson’sdeath,”repliedAltaïrinacalm,clearvoice.
“WhywasSefkilled?”“Isitthetruthyouwantoranexcuseforrevenge?”Abbasresponded.“Ifthetruthgivesusanexcuse,wewillactonit,”Mariathrewbackathim.ThisretortgaveAbbaspause,butafteramoment’sreflectionhesaid,ina
lowertone:“SurrendertheApple,Altaïr,andIwilltellyouwhyyoursonwas
puttodeath.”Altaïrnodded,asifatasecretinsight,and,turning,preparedhimselfto
addresstheassembledBrotherhoodofAssassins.Heraisedhisvoicecommandingly.“Ah,thetruthisoutalready!AbbaswantstheAppleforhimself.Nottoopen
yourminds—buttocontrolthem!”Abbaswasquicktoreply.“Youhaveheldthatartifactforthirtyyears,Altaïr,
revelinginitspowerandhoardingitssecrets.Ithascorruptedyou!”Altaïrlookedaroundattheseaoffaces,mostsetagainsthim,some—afew—
showingsignsofdoubt.Hismindworkedquicklyasheconcoctedaplan,whichmightjustwork.“Verywell,Abbas,”hesaid.“Takeit.”AndhetooktheApplefromthepouchathissideandheldituphigh.“What—?”saidMaria,takenaback.Abbas’seyesflashedatthesightoftheApple,buthehesitatedbefore
signalingtohisbodyguardtogoandtakeitfromAltaïr’sgaunthand.Thebodyguardcameclose.WhenhewasstandingnexttoAltaïr,ademon
possessedhim.Anamusedexpressiononhisface,heleanedintotheformerMentor,andwhisperedinhisear:“ItwasIwhoexecutedyoursonSef.JustbeforeIkilledhim,Itoldhimthatitwasyouyourselfwhohadorderedhisdeath.”HedidnotseetheflashoflightninginAltaïr’seyes.Heblunderedon,pleased
withhimself,and,scarcelyrestrainingalaugh,said:“Sefdiedbelievingyouhadbetrayedhim.”Altaïrturnedburningeyesonhimthen.Inhishand,theAppleexplodedwith
thelightofaburstingstar.“Ahhhh!”screamedthebodyguardinpain.Hiswholebodywrithed
uncontrollably.Hishandswenttohishead,scrabblingathistemples.Itlookedasifheweretryingtotearhisheadfromhisbodyinanattempttostoptheagony.“Altaïr!”criedMaria.ButAltaïrwasdeaftoher.Hiseyeswereblackwithfuryas,drivenbyan
unseenforce,thebodyguard,evenashetriedtoresisthisownimpulses,pulledalongknifefromhisbeltand,withhandstremblingastheytriedtoopposethepowerwhichdrovethem,raisedit,readytoplungeitintohisownthroat.Mariaseizedherhusband’sarm,shakinghim,andcryingagain,“Altaïr!No!”Herwordshadtheireffectatlast.Aninstantlater,visiblyshaken,Altaïrbroke
freeofthetrancethathadgrippedhim.Hiseyesbecamenormalagain,andtheApplewithdrewitslight,becomingdarkanddull,inertinhishand.Butthebodyguard,freedoftheforcewhichhadheldhiminitsgrasp,shook
himselflikeadog,lookedaroundmadly,inangerandfear,andwithaterribleoath,threwhimselfonMaria,strikinghisknifedeepintoherback.Thenhedrewback,leavingtheknifeburiedwherehehaddrivenit.Maria
stood,afaintcryformingonherlips.TheentirecompanyofAssassinsstoodasifturnedtostone.Abbashimselfwassilent,hismouthopen,butnosoundcameforth.ItwasAltaïrwhomoved.Tothebodyguard,itseemedasifhisformerMentor
unleashedhishidden-bladewithappallingslowness.Thebladesnickedoutandthesounditmademighthavebeenasloudasarocksnappingintheheatofthesun.Thebodyguardsawthebladecomingtowardhim,towardhisface,sawitapproachinchbyinch,secondbysecond,asitseemedtohim.Butthenthespeedwassuddenandferociousashefeltitsplithisfaceopenbetweentheeyes.Therewasanexplosioninhishead,andthen,nothing.Altaïrstoodforafractionofasecondasthebodyguardfelltotheground,
bloodshootingfromhisheadbetweentheshatteredeyes,thencaughthiswifeasshebegantocollapse,andloweredhergentlytotheearthwhichwouldsoon,heknew,receiveher.Aballoficegrewinhisheartashebentoverher,hisfacesoclosetohersthattheyseemedlikeloversabouttokiss.Theywerecaughtinasilencethatwrappeditselfaroundthemlikearmor.She
wastryingtospeak.Hestrainedtohearher.“Altaïr.Mylove.Strength.”“Maria...”Hisvoicewasnomorethanananguishedwhisper.Then,appallingly,thesoundsandthedustandthesmellsroseupviolently
aroundhimagain,smashingthroughtheprotectingarmor,andaboveitalltheshriekingvoiceofAbbas:“Heispossessed!Killhim!”Altaïrroseand,drawinghimselftohisfullheight,backedslowlyaway.“TaketheApple!”screamedAbbas.“Now!”
FORTY-FIVE
Altaïrfledbeforetheycouldreact—fledfromthecastle,throughitsgapingportal,downtheescarpment,andintothesparsewoodthatboundedtheareabetweenfortressandvillageonthenorthernside.Andthere,inaclearing,asifbyamiracle,hewasbroughtshortbyanencounterwithanotherman,likehim,butagenerationyounger.“Father!”exclaimedthenewcomer.“IcameassoonasI’dreadyourmessage.
Whathashappened?AmItoolate?”Fromthecastlebehindthem,hornswerecryingoutthealarm.“Darim!Myson!Turnback!”Darimlookedpasthisfather,overhisshoulder.There,ontheridgesbeyond
thewood,hecouldseebandsofAssassinsassembling,gettingreadytohuntthemdown.“Havetheyallgonemad?”“Darim—IstillhavetheApple.Wehavetogo.Abbasmustnotgethishands
onit.”Foranswer,Darimunslunghispackanddrewascabbardofthrowingknives
fromitbeforeplacingitontheground.“Therearemoreknivesinthere,takethemifyouneedthem.”TheAssassinsloyaltoAbbashadseenthembythen,andsomewereheading
towardthemwhileothersfannedouttooutflankthem.“They’lltrytoambushus,”saidAltaïrgrimly.“Keepagoodstockofknives
withyou.Wemustbeprepared.”Theymadetheirwaythroughthewood,goingeverdeeper.Itwasaperilouspassage.Often,theyhadtotakecoverastheyspottedgroups
ofAssassinswho’dgotaheadofthemorwhotriedtotakethemfromtheside,orobliquely,frombehind.“Stayclose!”Darimsaid.“Wegotogether.”“We’lltrytoworkourwayaround.Therearehorsesinthevillage.Once
we’vegotmounts,we’lltrytomakeforthecoast.”Upuntilthen,Darimhadbeentoopreoccupiedwiththeirimmediatedangerto
thinkofanythingelse,butnowhesaid,“WhereisMother?”Altaïrshookhishead,sadly.“Sheisgone,Darim.Iamsorry.”Darimtookabreath.“What?How?”
“Later.Timefortalklater.Nowwehavetogetclear.Wehavetofight.”“ButtheyareourBrothers.OurfellowAssassins.Surelywecantalk—
persuadethem.”“Forgetreason,Darim.Theyhavebeenpoisonedbylies.”Therewassilencebetweenthem.ThenDarimsaid,“WasitAbbaswhokilled
mybrother?”“Hekilledyourbrother.Hekilledourgreatcomrade,MalikAl-Sayf.And
countlessothers,”repliedAltaïr,bleakly.Darimbowedhishead.“Heisamadman.Withoutremorse.Without
conscience.”“Amadmanwithanarmy.”“Hewilldie,”saidDarim,coldly.“Oneday,hewillpay.”Theyreachedtheoutskirtsofthevillageandwereluckytomaketheirwayto
thestablesunmolested,forthevillageitselfwasteemingwithAssassinwarriors.Hastily,theysaddledupandmounted.Astheyrodeaway,theycouldhearAbbas’svoice,bellowinglikeabeastinpainashestoodatopasmalltowerinthevillagesquare.“IwillhavetheApple,Altaïr!AndIwillhaveyourHEAD,forallthedishonoryouhavebroughtuponmyfamily!Youcannotrunforever!Notfromus,andnotfromyourlies!”Hisvoicefadedintothedistanceastheygallopedaway.
Fivemilesdowntheroad,theyreinedin.Theyhadnot—asyet—beenpursued.Theyhadgainedtime.ButDarim,ridingbehindhim,noticedthathisfathersatslumpedinthesaddle,exhaustedandanguished.HespurredhishorsecloserandlookedintoAltaïr’sfacewithconcern.Altaïrsatlow,hunched,onthevergeoftears.“Maria.Mylove...”Darimheardhimmurmur.“Come,Father,”hesaid.“Wemustrideon.”Makingasupremeeffort,Altaïrkickedhishorseintoagallop,andthetwoof
themspedaway,specksdisappearingintotheforbiddinglandscape.
FORTY-SIX
HavingdepositedthenewkeywiththeothersinthesafetyoftheAssassins’Constantinopleheadquarters,andhavingdeliveredthecopyoftheSocratesFablestoagratefulandmarvelingSofia,EziodecidedthatitwastimetomakeareporttoPrinceSuleimanonwhathehaddiscoveredattheArsenal.He’dhadsomeindicationofwheretofindhimandmadehiswaytoa
fashionableparkneartheBayezidMosque,wherehefoundSuleimanandhisuncleAhmetseatedintheshadeofanorientalplane,thesunshineintensifyingthebrightgreenofitsbroadleaves.AJanissaryguarddetailstoodaroundthematadiscreetdistancewhilethey
playedchess.Eziotookupapositionwherehecouldwatch,unobserved.Hewantedtospeakwiththeprincealone.Buthewasinterestedinchess—itsstrategieshadtaughthimmanyskillstobeappliedelsewhere—andhewatchedtheprogressofthegamewithinterest.Thetwoplayersseemedprettyequallymatched.Afterawhile,Suleiman,
havingponderedamoveofhisuncle’sthatputhiskingindanger,respondedbycastling.“That’snotalegalmove,”saidPrinceAhmet,insurprise.“ItisaEuropeanvariation—arrocco.”“It’sinteresting,butnotexactlyfair,whenyouplaybydifferentrulesfrom
youropponent.”“Youmaythinkdifferentlywhenyouaresultan,”repliedSuleiman,flatly.Ahmetlookedasifhehadbeenslappedbutsaidnothing.Suleimanpickedup
hisking.“ShallItakeitback?”heasked.Inresponse,Ahmetrosetohisfeet.“Suleiman,”hesaid,“Iknowithasbeen
hardonyou,watchingyourfatherandmequarreloverBayezid’sthrone.”Theyoungmanshrugged.“Grandfatherhaschosenyou,andhiswordislaw
—kanun.Whatistheretoargueabout?”PrinceAhmetlookedathisnephewingrudgingadmiration.“YourfatherandI
werecloseonce,buthiscrueltyandambitionhave—”“Ihaveheardtherumors,Uncle,”Suleimancutin,hotly.Embarrassed,Ahmetlookedawayacrosstheparkforamomentbefore
returninghisgazetothechessboard.“Well,”hesaidfinally,“Ihaveameeting
withthecouncilofviziersshortly.Shallwecontinueanothertime?”“Wheneveryouwish.”Suleimanwascordial.Heroseandbowedtohisuncle,whobowedinreturn,beforeleavingwithhis
bodyguard.Eziowaitedamoment,watchingSuleimanashesatdownagain,contemplatingthechessboardinhisturn.Thenhemovedforward.Suleimansawhimapproachandgesturedtohisguardsnottohinderhis
visitor.“Ezio,”hesaid.Eziocamestraighttothepoint.“Tarikhasbeensellinggunstoalocalmiser—
ManuelPalaiologos.”Suleiman’sfacedarkened.Heclenchedhisfist.“Palaiologos.Thatisasad
soundinmyears.”Onceagain,herosetohisfeet.“ThelastByzantineemperorwasConstantinePalaiologos.Ifthisheirofhisisarmingamilitiaofsomekind,therewillbeconflict,anditwillescalate.Allthisatatimewhenmyfatherandgrandfatherareatoddswithoneanother.”Hetrailedoffandgrewthoughtful.Ezioimaginedthathemustbebroodingoveroneofthehardestdecisionshe’deverhadtomakeinhisshortlife.“Tarikknowswheretheriflesareheaded,”Eziosaid.“IfIfindhimfirst,Ican
followtheweaponsstraighttotheByzantines.”Suleimanlookedathim.“TarikwillbewithhisJanissaries,attheirbarracks.
So,ifyouwanttogetclose,youwillhaveto‘become’aJanissaryyourself.”Eziosmiled.“Notaproblem,”hesaid.“Güzel,”saidSuleiman.“Excellent.”Hethoughtsomemore,anditwasclear
thatthedecisionhewascomingtocausedhimdistress;butoncehe’dmadeit,hewasfirm.“Gettheinformationyouneed—thenkillhim.”Ezioraisedaneyebrow.ThiswasasideofSuleimanhehadnotseenbefore.
“Areyousure,Suleiman?YoutoldmeTarikandyourfatherwereclosefriends.”Suleimanswallowedhard,thenlookeddefiant:“Thisistrue.Butsuchnaked
treasonagainstmygrandfatherdeservesdeath.”Eziolookedathimforamoment,thensaid:“Understood.”Therewasnothingmoretodiscuss.Eziotookhisleave.Whenhelookedback,
Suleimanwasstudyingthechessboardagain.
FORTY-SEVEN
WithalittlehelpfromYusuf’sAssassins,Eziowasabletoisolateandcorneranunsuspectingoff-dutyJanissaryintheBazaarandrelievehimofhisuniform.Butitwasnotwithoutaprice.TheJanissaryputupstiffresistanceandbadlywoundedtwoAssassinsbeforehewasovercome;butnotbeforehehimselfhadsustainedamortalwound.ItwasnecessaryforEzio,withAzize’shelp,towashthebloodstainsthoroughlyfromthewhitegarmentsbeforeheputthemon.ButthenhecouldpassforaJanissaryguardwithoutanyquestion,providedhewascarefultokeephisbeardcoveredwithawhitescarf,exposingonlyhismustache.Ashemadehiswaytothebarracks,hewasamusedand,atthesametime,
disconcertedattheresponseheevokedamongthelocalpopulation,bothmaleandfemale,OttomansandByzantinesalike,thoughthereactionswerethesamemixtureamongallthenationalitiesheencountered.Somewereapparentlyadmiring,eveningratiating.Othersweresubtlydismissive,andyetmorereactedwithfearanduncertainty.ItwasclearenoughthattheJanissarieswereatbesttolerated,atworstloathed.Therewasnotahintofgenuineaffectionorregard.Butfromwhathecouldgather,thegreatestdisdainseemedtobeleveledspecificallyattheJanissariesbelongingtoTarik’sbarracks.Eziostoredthisexperienceinhismemory,certainthatitwouldproveusefulatsomefuturedate,butforthemomentheconcentratedonhisgoal.Hewasrelievedthathisuniformallowedhimtopassunhinderedand
uncontestedashemadehiswaytothebarracks,themoresoashewassoontodiscoverthattheAssassins’killingoftheJanissaryhadalreadybeendiscovered.Ashedrewclosetohisdestination,hepassedasquarewhereaSeljukheraldwasannouncingtheman’sdeathtoacrowdofinterestedonlookers.“Darktidings,citizensofKostantiniyye,”theheraldwasproclaiming.“A
servantofoursultanhasfallenatthehandsofacriminalandbeenstrippedofhisgarments.”Helookedroundandraisedhisvoiceanotch.“Beonthelookoutforanysuspiciousactivity.”Eziocrossedthesquareasdiscreetlyaspossible,buteyesinevitablyfellon
him.Heprayedthathewouldbeabletoenterthebarracksunchallenged.Iftheyknewaboutthemurderandthatthemanhadbeenkilledforhisuniform,theywouldtightensecurityfasterthanamancouldsay“knife.”
“WoebetidethemurdererwhotookthelifeofabelovedJanissary,”theheraldcontinuedtointone.“Thisenemyofcivilizationmustbefoundandbroughttojustice!Ifyouseesomething,saysomething!”Heglaredaroundatthecrowdimpressivelyandshookhisscrollforadditionaleffect,beforegoingon:“Citizens,beware!Akillerstalksourstreets,amanwithoutconscience,targetingtheservantsofoursultan.TheJanissarieshavededicatedtheirlivestotheprotectionoftheempire.Returnthefavortheyhavedoneusandfindthiskillerbeforehestrikesagain!”TheposterngateoftheJanissaryGarrisonstoodopen,thoughflankedbyadoubleguard.ButtheycametoattentionasEzioarrived,andherealizedthathehadhadthelucktowaylayaseniorNCOorjuniorofficer—forthedressheworeclearlycommandedrespect,thoughtoanuninitiatedeye,theJanissaries’uniformslookedvirtuallyindistinguishablebetweenofficersandmen.Heenteredthecompoundwithoutdifficulty,butnosoonerhadhedoneso
thanhebegantopickupsnippetsofconversationregardingthekilling.“Kardeslerim,oneofourownwasfoundmurderedandstrippedofhis
garmentsnotanhourago,andhisbody,theysay,wasdumpedonadunghilllikesomuchrubbish,”onesaidtoacoupleofhisbrothersoldiers,whomurmuredangrilyatthenews.“Keepaclosewatchonthesestreetsasyoumovethroughthem,”thefirsttospeakcontinued.“Someoneisplanningtostrike,usingouruniformascover.Wemustbeconstantlyonourguarduntiltheculpritiscaught.”“Anddisemboweled,”addedanother.Eziodecidedtobeascautiousaspossibleforaslongashewasinthe
compound.Keepinghisheaddown,hemovedaroundthebarracks,familiarizinghimselfwiththem,and,ashedidso,eavesdroppingonvariousconversations.Whatheheardwasmostrevealingandofgreatvalue.“Selimunderstandsourplight.TheByzantines,theMamluks,theSafavid—
onlyhehasthecouragetofacethethreatsthosepeoplesrepresentforus,”saidonesoldier.“Youspeakthetruth.Selimisawarrior.LikeOsmanandMehmedbefore
him,”anotherreplied.“So—whyhasoursultanBayezidchosenapussycatoveralion?”“PrinceAhmetsharesthesultan’scalmtemperament.That’swhy.Theyare
toomuchalike,Ifear.”Athirdsoldierjoinedtheconversation.“SultanBayezidisagoodman,anda
kindruler...Buthehaslostthefirethatmadehimgreat.”“Idisagree,”saidafourth.“Heisstillafighter.Lookatthearmyhehasraised
againstSelim.”“That’sjustfurtherevidenceofhisdecline!Totakeuparmsagainsthisown
son?It’sshameful.”“Donotbendthetruthtomatchthecontoursofyourpassion,efendim,”the
fourthmanrebukedhim.“ItwasSelim,afterall,whoattackedoursultanfirst.”“Evet,evet.ButSelimdidsoforthegloryoftheempire,notforhimself.”“Speakingofthewar,isthereanynewsfromthenorth?”afifthsoldier
chimedin.“IhearthatSelim’sforceshavefallenbacktoVarna,”saidasixth.“Heavy
losses,Iamtold.”“Incredible,isn’tit?Iprayforaswiftconclusion.”“Yes,butinwhichdirection?”“Icannotsay.Myheartsideswithoursultan,butmyheadhopesforSelim.”“AndwhatofSelim’syoungson,PrinceSuleiman?”aseventhJanissaryput
in.“Haveyoumethim?”“Notpersonally,”aneighthreplied;“ButIhaveseenhim.Iknowheisa
remarkableboy.”“Hardlyaboy—acapableyoungman.Withamagnificentmind.”“Doeshetakeafterhisfather?”TheseventhJanissaryshrugged.“Perhaps.ThoughIsuspectheisanothersort
ofmanaltogether.”TwomoreJanissariescameupandjoinedtheconversationasEziolingeredat
itsedge.Oneofthemwasclearlyabitofajoker.“WhydoesPrinceAhmetlingerinthiscity?”heaskedwryly.“Heknowsheisnotwanted.”“He’slikeamothhoveringaroundanopenflame.Waitingforhisfatherto
perish,sothathemaytakethethrone.”“Didyouhear,”saidthejoker,“thatheofferedTarikabribeinreturnforour
loyalty?”“Goddamnhimforthat.WhatdidTarikdo?”Theotherguardlaughed.“Hespenthalfthemoneyonhorsefeedandsentthe
resttoSelim!”
FORTY-EIGHT
Severalornatetentswerepitchedwithinthebroadcompound,protectedbythehighwallsthatsurroundedit.LeavingtheJanissarysoldiers,Eziomovedonamongthem,gettingeverclosertothecenter,whereheguessedTarik’squarterswouldbefound.Sureenough,asheapproached,heheardthefamiliartonesofTarik’svoiceashespoketoacourierwhohadjustcomeup,joiningTarik,whowasinthecompanyofathirdJanissary,evidentlyanadjutant.“Tarikbey,”saidthecourier.“Aletterforyou.”Tariktooktheletterwithoutcomment,broketheseal,andreadit.Hewas
laughinginasatisfiedmannerevenbeforehehadreachedtheend.“Perfect,”hesaid,foldingthepaperandputtingitinhistunic.“TherifleshavearrivedinCappadocia,atthegarrisonofManuelPalaiologos’sarmy.”“Andourmen,aretheystillwithhim?”askedtheadjutant.“Evet.TheywillcontactuswhentheByzantinesbreakcamp.Thenwewill
meetthemwhentheyreachBursa.”Theadjutantsmiled.“Theneverythingisfallingintoplace,efendim.”“Yes,Chagatai,”Tarikreplied.“Foronce.”Hewavedthemenawayandstartedtowalkaway,amongthetents.Keeping
atasafedistance,Ezioshadowedhim.ButhecouldnotremaincompletelyunnoticedandwasgladofthelittleTurkishhehadalreadypickedupsincehisarrivalinConstantinople,asguardseithercametoattentionorsoldiersofsimilarranktohisowngreetedhim.Butitwasnotallplainsailing.Onceortwicehelosthistrailandnoticedsuspiciouslooksdirectedathimbeforehepickeditupagain;andoncehefacedadirectchallenge.Twoguardsblockedhisway:“Whatregimentareyoufrom,efendim?”thefirstaskedhim,politelyenough,
thoughwithjustenoughedgetohisvoicetomakeEziowary.BeforeEziocouldreply,thesecondcutin:“IdonotbelieveIknowyou.Ido
notseeyourimperialinsignia.Areyoucavalry?”“Whendidyougetin?”askedthefirst,hisvoiceopenlyunfriendlynow.“Whereisyourcaptain?”Ezio’sTurkishwasn’tuptothis.Andhesawthat,inanycase,theirsuspicions
weremorethanaroused.Swiftly,heunleashedhishookbladeandtrippedoneupwithit,sendinghimcrashingintotheother.Thenheran,dartingbetweentents,
jumpingguyropesandstillkeepingoneeyeonthenow-distantTarik.Therewasshoutingbehindhim:“Imposter!”“Deceiver!Youwilldie!”“Stophim!”“It’stheoutlawwhokilledNazar!Grabhim!”
Butthecompoundwasverylarge,andEziotookfulladvantageofthefactthat,intheiruniformsandwiththeiralmostidenticalmustaches,oneJanissarylookedverylikeanother.Leavingconfusioninhiswake,hesoonpickedupTarik’strailagainandlocatedhiminaquietcornerofthebarracks,wheretheseniorofficers’map-roomsweretobefound.EziowatchedasTarikenteredoneofthemap-rooms;heglancedaroundto
ensurethatthemanwasaloneandthathehimselfhadthrownoffthelasttracesofpursuit,andfollowedTarikin.Heclosedandboltedthedoorbehindhim.Eziohadalreadycollectedalltheinformationhebelievedheneeded.Heknew
thatTarikplannedtorendezvouswithManuelatBursa,andheknewthatthearmsshipmenthadarrivedatManuel’sgarrisoninCappadocia.SowhenTarikimmediatelydrewhisswordandflunghimselfathim,hedidnotneedtoaskquestionsfirst.HesteppedneatlyasidetohisleftasTarikthrustwithhissword,thenunleashedhisleft-handhidden-bladeandplungeditintotheright-handsideoftheJanissarycaptain’sback,rippingthroughthekidneyashecutinhardwiththebladebeforewithdrawingit.Tarikcrashedforwardontoamaptable,scatteringthechartsthatcoveredit
anddrenchingthosethatremainedwithblood.Hecaughthisbreathand,drawingonhislastreservesofstrength,heavedhimselfuponhisrightelbowandhalfturnedtolookathisattacker.“Yourvillainyisfinished,soldier,”saidEzio,harshly.ButTarikseemedresigned,almostamused.Eziowassuddenlyseizedby
doubt.“Ah,whatbitterirony,”saidTarik.“IsthistheresultofSuleiman’s
investigation?”“Youcolludewiththesultan’senemies,”saidEzio,hisconfidenceebbing.
“Whatdidyouexpectwouldcomeofsuchtreachery?”Tarikgavehimaregretfulsmile.“Iblamemyself.”Hepaused,hisbreathing
painful,asbloodflowedsteadilyfromhisunstaunchedside.“Notfortreason,buthubris.”HelookedatEzio,whohaddrawnclosertocatchhisvoice,whichhadnowsunktolittlemorethanawhisper.“Iwaspreparinganambush.PreparingtostriketheByzantineTemplarsattheprecisemomenttheyfeltsafest.”“Whatproofdoyouhaveofthis?”“Look.Here.”Painfully,Tarikpulledamapfromhisbeltwithhislefthand.“Takeit,”he
said.Eziodidso.“ThiswillleadyoutotheByzantinesinCappadocia,”Tarikcontinued.
“Destroythemifyoucan.”Ezio’svoicehadsunktoawhisper,too.“Youhavedonewell,Tarik.Forgive
me.”“Thereisnoblame,”Tarikreplied,strugglingwiththeeffortofspeakingat
all.Butheforcedhimselftogoon,knowingthathisnextwordswouldbehislast.“Protectmyhomeland.Allahashkina!InGod’sname,redeemthehonorwehavelostinthisfight.”EzioputTarik’sarmoverhisshoulderandliftedhimontothetable,wherehe
hastilytorethescarffromhisneckandtieditastightlyashecouldaroundthewoundhehadmade.Buthewasalreadytoolate.“RequiescatinPace,”saidEzio,sadly.
Outside,heheardthehueandcryforhimtakenuponcemore,andcloseby.Therewasnotimetorepineoverhismistake.Hastily,hetoreofftheuniformuntilhewasstrippeddowntothesimplegreytunicandhoseheworeunderneath.Themap-roomwasclosetothebarrackswall.Withthehelpofhishookblade,heknewthewallwouldbeclimbable.Itwastimetogo.
FORTY-NINE
EzioregainedAssassinheadquarters,changed,andreturnedtoTopkapiSarayiwithaheavyheart.Theguardshadclearlybeengivenorderstolethimpass,andhewasusheredintoaprivateantechamber,where,afterafewminuteshadpassed,Suleimancametomeethim.Theyoungprinceseemedsurprisedtoseehim—andagitated.Ezioforestalledthequestioninhiseyes.“Tarikwasnotraitor,Suleiman.He,
too,wastrackingtheByzantines.”“What?”Suleiman’sdistresswasevident.“So,didyou—?”Ezionodded,gravely.Suleimansatdownheavily.Helookedill.“Godforgiveme,”hesaid,quietly.
“Ishouldnothavebeensoquicktojudge.”“Prince,hewasloyaltoyourgrandfathertotheend;andthroughhisefforts,
wehavethemeanstosaveyourcity.”Eziobrieflyexplainedwhathehadfoundout,toldhimwhathehadlearnedfromlisteningtotheJanissaries,andshowedhimthemapTarikhadgivenhim.“Ah,Tarik,”whisperedSuleiman.“Heshouldnothavebeensosecretive,
Ezio.Whataterriblewaytodoagoodthing.”“TheweaponshavebeentakentoCappadocia.Wemustactimmediately.Can
yougetmethere?”Suleimansnappedoutofhisreverie.“What—?Getyouthere?Yes,ofcourse.
IwillarrangeashiptotakeyoutoMersin—youcantravelinlandfromthere.”TheywereinterruptedbythearrivalofPrinceAhmet.Fortunately,hecalled
outtoSuleimaninanimpatientvoicebeforehearrived,soEziohadtimetowithdrawtoacorneroftheroom,wherehewouldbelessconspicuous.Ahmetenteredtheroomandwastednotimeatallincomingtothepoint.
“Suleiman,Ihavebeensetupandmadetolooklikeatraitor!DoyourememberTarik,theJanissary?”“Themanyouquarreledwith?”Ahmetshowedsignsofgettingseriouslyangry.“Hehasbeenmurdered.Itis
nosecretthatheandIwereatodds.NowtheJanissarieswillbequicktoaccusemeofthecrime.”“Thisisterriblenews,Uncle.”
“Itisindeed.Whenwordofthisreachesmyfather,hewillbanishmefromthecity!”Suleimancouldnotsuppressanervousglanceoverhisuncle’sshoulderat
Ezio.Ahmetnoticedthisandspunround.Hismannerimmediatelybecamemorereserved.“Ah.Forgiveme,nephew.Iwasnotawarethatyouhadaguest.”Suleimanhesitated,thensaid:“Thisis...Marcello.OneofmyEuropean
advisersinKefe.”Eziobowedlow.“Buonasera.”Ahmetmadeanimpatientgesture.“Marcello,mynephewandIhaveaprivate
mattertodiscuss,”hesaid,sternly.“Ofcourse.Pleaseexcuseme.”Eziobowedagain,evenlower,andbackedhis
waytothedoor,exchangingaquickglanceatSuleiman,who,heprayed,wouldgetthemoutofthis.Luckily,theyoungprincepickeduphiscueperfectlyandsaidtoEzioinaclipped,officialvoice:“Youknowyourorders.AsI’vesaid,therewillbeashipwaitingforyou
whenyouarereadytoleave.”“Grazie,mioprincipe,”Ezioreplied.Helefttheroomthenbutlingeredjust
outsideit,wishingtohearhowtheconversationwouldend.Whathehearddidnotconvincehimthathewasoutofthewoodsatall:“Wewilltrackdowntheperpetratorofthiscrime,Uncle,”Suleimanwas
saying.“Havepatience.”Eziomulledthatover.Couldmattersbethatdire?Buthedidn’tknow
Suleimanthatwell.AndwhatwasitYusufhadwarnedabout?AgainstmeddlinginOttomanpolitics?Hismoodwasgrimasheleftthepalace.Therewasoneplaceheneededtobe.
Oneplacewherehecouldrelax—ashebadlyneededto—andcollecthisthoughts.
FIFTY
Sonowweenteredonthathiddenpath,mylordandI,tomoveoncemoretowardsashiningworld.Wedidnotcaretorest.Weclimbed,hegoingfirstandIbehind,untilthroughsomesmallapertureIsawthelovelythingstheskiesaboveusbear.Nowwecameout,andoncemoresawthestars.
EziohadstartedrereadingDante’sInfernoatSofia’ssuggestionseveraldaysearlier.Hehadreaditbefore,asastudent,butneverreallytakenitin,sincehismindwaspreoccupiedwithothermattersinthosedays,butnowitseemedlikearevelation.But,havingfinallyfinishedit,heputthebookdownwithasighofpleasure.HelookedacrossatSofia,herglassesperchedonhernoseasshesat,headdown,glancingfromtheoriginalmaptoherreferencebooks,toanotebookshewaswritingin.Hegazedatherassheworkedbutdidnotinterrupt,sodeeplyengageddidsheseeminthetaskathand.Instead,hereachedforthebookagain.PerhapsheshouldmakeastartonthePurgatorio.Butjustthen,Sofialiftedhereyesfromherwork.Shesmiledathim.“Enjoyingthepoem?”Hesmiledback,placedthebookonthetablebyhischair,androse.“Who
werethesemenhecondemnedtohell?”“Politicalopponents,menwhowrongedhim.DanteAlghieri’spencuts
deeply,no?”“Sì,”Ezioreplied,thoughtfully.“Itisasubtlewaytoseekrevenge.”Hedidn’twanttoreturntoreality,buttheurgencyofthejourneyhesoonhad
tomakepresseduponhim.Still,therewasnothinghecoulddountilhehadwordfromSuleiman.Providedthathecouldtrusttheprince.Buthisthoughtshadcalmed.HowcoulditprofitSuleimantobetrayhim?Heresumedhisseat,pickedupTheDivineComedyagain,andturnedtotheplacewherehehadleftoff.Sheinterruptedhim.“Ezio,”shebegan,hesitantly,“Iplantomakeatripto
Adrianopolisinafewweeks,tovisitanewprintingpressthere.”Ezionoticedtheshytoneofhervoiceandwonderedifshehadpickedupthe
softnessthathadcreptintohiswheneverhespoketoher.Hadsherealizedhowgreathis...affectionforherhadbecome?Overcompensating,hewasdeliberatelynonchalantwhenhereplied,“Thatshouldbefun.”Shewasstilldiffident.“Itisafive-orsix-dayridefromhere,andIwillneed
anescort...”“Prego?”Shewasinstantlyembarrassed.“I’msorry.Youareabusyman.”Itwashisturntobeembarrassed.“Sofia,Iwouldlovetoaccompanyyou,but
mytimeisrunningshort—”“Thatistrueforallofus.”Hedidn’tknowhowtorespondtothat,takingitsmeaningseveralways,and
remainedsilent.Hewasthinkingofthetwenty-yearagegapbetweenthem.Sofialookeddownatthemapforamoment,thenbackup.“Well,Icouldtry
tofinishthislastciphernow,butIneedtorunanerrandbeforesundown.Canyouwaitaday?”“Whatdoyouneed?”Shelookedawayandbackagain.“It’ssilly,but...abouquetoffreshflowers.
Whitetulips,specifically.”Hegotup.“I’llgetyoutheflowers.Nessunproblema.”“Areyousure?”“Itwillbeanicechangeofpace.”Shesmiledwarmly.“Bene!Look—meetmeintheparkjusttotheeastof
HaghiaSofia.Wewilltrade:flowersfor...information!”
FIFTY-ONE
TheFlowerMarketwasablazeofcolorandpleasantscents,andtherewasn’taJanissaryinsight.Eziomadehiswaythroughitanxiously,asnowhereinallthiscornucopiahadheyetbeenabletofindanyoftheflowershesought.“Youlooklikeamanwithmoneytospend,”saidaflowerseller,asEzio
approachedhisstall.“Whatdoneed,myfriend?”“I’mlookingfortulips.Whiteones,ifyouhavethem.”Theflowersellerlookeddoubtful.“Ah.Tulips.Forgiveme,butIamfresh
out.Somethingelse,perhaps?”Ezioshookhishead.“It’snotmycall,unfortunately.”Theflowersellerthoughtabouttheproblemforamoment,thenleaned
forward.Hespokeconfidentially.“OK,justforyou,hereismysecret.ManyofthewhitetulipsIsell,Ipickmyselfnearthehippodrome.Notawordofalie.Yougoandseeforyourself.”Eziosmiled,tookouthiswallet,andtippedtheflowersellergenerously.
“Grazie.”Busily,amaninhaste,hemadehiswaythroughthesun-warmedstreetstothehippodrome,and,sureenough,inthegrassalongonesideoftheracetrack,hefoundwhitetulipsgrowinginabundance.Happily,hebentdownand,unleashinghishidden-blade,cutasmanyashehopedSofiawouldwant.
FIFTY-TWO
TheImperialParktotheeastofHaghiaSofiawaslaidoutinformalgardens,interspersedwithverdantlawnsdottedwithwhitemarblebenchesandarborsidealforprivatemeetings,andinoneofthemhesoonfoundSofia.Shehadlaidoutalittlepicnic,andEziocouldseeataglancethatitwasn’t
localfoodanddrink.She’dmanagedsomehowtoorganizealunchthatbroughttogethersomeofthespecialtiesofboththeirhometowns,sotherewasmolecheandrixotodegòfromVenice,andpanzanellaandsalametoscanofromFlorence.She’dalsoprovidedfigsfromTuscoloandolivesfromPiceno,andtherewasadishofmacaroniandturbot.Thewineshe’dbroughtwasaFrescobaldi.Awickerhamperstoodbytheneatwhiteclothshe’dlaid.“Whatisthis?”hesaid,marveling.“Agift.Sit.”Eziobowed,handinghertheflowers,anddidashewasbidden.“Thesearebeautiful—thankyou,”shesaid,acceptingthehugebouquetof
tulipshehadcutforher.“Soisthis,”hereplied.“Anddon’tthinkIdon’tappreciatethetroubleyou’ve
beento.”“Iwantedtothankyouforlettingmeplayasmallroleinyouradventure.”“Iwouldscarcelyhavecalleditsmall,buta‘small’roleisquiteenoughfor
thisadventure,believeme.”Shelaughedquietly.“Youareamystery,EzioAuditore.”Helookedworried.“I’msorry—Idonotmeantobe.”Shelaughedagain.“It’sfine!”Shepaused,thenadded:“It’sattractive.”Eziodidn’tknowhowtorespondtothat,soheconcentratedonthefood.
“Thislooksdelicious.”“Why,thankyou.”Eziosmiled.Hedidn’twanttobreakthemood,butashadowhadfallenover
histhoughts.Hemustn’tcelebrate—orhopeforanything—prematurely.Helookedathermoreseriously,andsheimmediatelycaughthisframeofmind.“Anyluckwiththefinalcode?”heasked,ascasuallyashecould.“Ah,thecode,”shereplied,stillalittleplayful,andEziowasrelieved.“Yes,
I’vesolvedit.Afewhoursago.Butyou’llhavetobepatient.Youwillgetit
soonenough.”AndshelookedathimtheninawaythatbrokedownanydefensesEziohad
left.
FIFTY-THREE
Thelastbookwaslocatedinaplacemoredifficulttogetto.NiccolòPolohadmanagedtoconcealithighonthefrontfaçadeofthemosqueofHaghiaSofiaitself,abovethegreatcurvedarchthatstoodbeforetheprincipaldomeoftheformerbasilica.Eziochosetocompletehismissionintheweehoursbeforedawn,asthen
therewouldbethesmallestnumberofpeopleabout.Hereachedthebuildingunchallengedandcarefullymadehiswaytotheexonarthex,lookingupatthecliffofstonehehadtoclimb.Therewerefewcrevicesforhishookbladetogetagrip,butafterseveralunsuccessfulattempts,hemanagedtoclimbtothespotSofiahadpinpointed.There,hefoundaweatheredwoodenpanel,overhungwithcobwebs.Hemanagedtobelayhimselftosomenearbypipeworkwhich,aftertestingit,
hefoundsolidenoughtotakehisweight,andheusedthehookbladeagaintoprythepanelopen.Thewoodenboardfellaway,fallingtothegroundbeneathwithwhattoEzio’searswasadeafening,echoingclatter,andhehungthereinthegreylightoffalsedawnsilently,prayingthatnoonehadbeenalertedbythenoise.Butafterhehadwaitedforthreewholeminutes,andtherewasnoreaction,hereachedintothecavitytheboardhadconcealedandfromitdrewthebookhesought.Oncebackontheground,hespedawayandfoundaquietspotinthevery
parkwherehehaddinedwithSofiaonlythedaybefore,andthereexaminedhisfind.ThebookwasacopyofLuitpoldofCremona’sMissiontoConstantinople.HeallowedhimselftoimagineforamomentSofia’spleasureatthesightofsuchararity,beforeturningtoitsfront.Theblankpagesglowedaboutasbrightlyasthethinstreaksofdawnlighthe
couldseeawaytotheeastacrosstheBosphorus.Andamapofthecityappeared,which,ashewatchedhopefully,resolveditselfintofocus,andonitappearedanotherlight,brighterthantherest,clearlymarkingtheForumoftheOx.Followingthetrailindicatedinthebook,EziomadehiswaytotheForum,
awayinthewestofthecity,pasttheSecondandThirdHills,andaboutmidwaybetweentheAqueductofValenstothenorthandtheHarborofTheodosiustothesouth.Itwasquiteawalk,butwhenhearrived,itwasstilltooearlyforanyone
tobeabout.Ezioscannedthehuge,desertedsquareforsomekindofclue,butthemarkedspotinthebookgleamedsharply,andherememberedthesystemofsubterraneancisternsbeneaththecity.Heconcentratedhissearchandlocated,afteralittletime,amanhole,fromwhichstonestepsdescendedintothebowelsoftheearth.Ezioclosedthebookandstoweditsafelyinhissatchel.Hereplacedhis
hookbladewithhispistol,checkedhishidden-blade,andwarilymadehiswaydownward.Hesoonfoundhimselfinavaultedcavern,onastoneembankmentbywhich
anundergroundriverran.Littorchesstoodinsconcesonthewalls,and,ashecreptquietlythroughanarrow,dampcorridor,heheard,abovethesoundofrushingwater,voicesechoing,raisedabovethedintherivermade.Followingthesoundofthem,hecameupontwoByzantineTemplars.“Whathaveyoufound?”onesaid.“Anotherkey?”“Adoorofsomekind,”hiscomradeanswered.“Brickedupwithhardstone.”Edgingcloser,roundingacorner,Eziosawanumberofsoldiersashort
distanceaway,standingonanoldpierthatjuttedintotheriver.Oneofthemwasrollingabarreloffoneoftwowaitingrafts.“Thatsoundspromising,”thefirstofthenearerTemplarssaid.“Thefirstkey
wasfoundbehindasimilardoor.”“Isthatso?Andhowdidtheyopenthatdoor?”“Theydidn’t.Theearthquakedid.”OnasignalfromthemenclosertoEzio,theothersoldierscameupwiththe
barrel,whichtheyproceededtolodgeinplaceagainstthedoor.Eziocouldnowseethattheopeningwassealedwithclose-fittingblocksofsomehardblackstone,cutbyamastermason.“Theearthquake!Thatwashelpful,”saidthesecondTemplar.“Andallwe
haveisafewbarrelsofgunpowder.”“Thisoneshouldbebigenoughforthejob,”repliedthefirst.Ezio’seyesnarrowed.Hequietlyreleasedhisgunandpulledbackthe
hammer.“Ifitisn’t,we’lljustgetmore,”thefirstTemplarcontinued.Ezioraisedhisarmandtookaim,butthebarreloftheguncaughtthelightof
atorchashedidsoandglinted,theunusualflashoflightcatchingtheeyeofoneofthesoldiers.“What?”hesnapped.HesawthegunandleaptinfrontofthebarrelatthesamemomentthatEzio
fired.Theballstruckhim,andhefelldeadinstantly.Eziosworetohimself.Butthesoldierswereontohim.“It’stheAssassin!Let’sgetoutofhere!”Eziotriedtoreload,butthesoldierswerealreadymakingtheirwayback
towardtherafts.Hefollowedthem,desperatetostopthembeforetheycouldraisethealarm.Butashereachedthepier,theywerealreadypushingoff.BythetimeEziohadleaptontothesecondraftandwasstrugglingtolooseitsmoorings,thesoldierswereinmidstream,floatingaway.Hehadcastoffandwasinpursuitwhenthethoughtstruckhim—werethey
scaredofhim,orweretheyleadinghimon?Well,itwastoolatenow.He’dhavetoplaythistotheend.Ashisraftwaslighter,thecurrentbegantocarryhimcloser.Thesoldiers
seemedtobeinapanic,butthatdidn’tstopthemfromprimingbombsandloadingmuskets.“Wehavegunpowderaboard,weshoulduseit!”onecried.“We’llblasthimoutofthewater,”saidanother,throwingabomb,which
explodedasithitthewaterbarelyafootaheadofEzio’sprow.“Givemesomeroom,”yelledanothersoldier,tryingtosteadyhimselftotake
aimwithhismusket.“Shoothim!”“WhatdoyouthinkI’mtryingtodo?”“Justkillthebastard!”Theycareeredondownstream.Eziohadmanagedbythentograspthetillerof
hisraftandbringitundercontrol,allthewhilehavingtoduckanddivetoavoidthemusketballsthatcannonedtowardhim,thoughthepitchandrolloftheirraftmadeitallbutimpossibleforthesoldierstotakeseriousaim.Thenoneofthebarrelsaboardworkedfreeofitsropesandrolledaroundthedeck,knockingtwosoldiersintothetorrent—oneofthemtheirtillerman.Theraftbuckedwildly,throwinganothermanintotheblackwater,thensmashedintothesideoftheembankment.Thesurvivorsscrambledtothebank.Eziolookeduptothehighvault,whichranperhapstwentyfeetabovetheriver.Inthegloom,hecouldseethatatautropehadbeenslungthelengthoftheroof,andnodoubtbargesorraftswereoftenhookedtoittoguidethemdowntheriver.You’donlyneedonepersonaboardwithapoletounhookandrehookroundeachoftheeyeletstowhichtheropewasaffixedatregularintervals.AndEziocouldseethattherope,followingtheriver’sdownhillcourse,
slopedgraduallydownward,too.Justenoughforwhathehadplanned.Bracinghimself,Eziosteeredhisownraftfortheembankment,andasit
smashedintotheonehe’dbeenpursuing,heleaptfromitontothestonepathwayattheriver’sside.Bythattime,thesurvivingsoldierswerealreadysomewayaheadofhim,
runningfortheirlives—ortosummonreinforcements.Eziohadnotimetowaste.Workingfast,heswappedhisgunforhishookblade,scrambleduptheside
wallofthecavern,andthrewhimselftowardtheropeovertheriver.Hehadjustenoughmomentumtocatchitwithhishookblade,andsoonhewasshootingdownstreamoverthewater,farfasterthanthesoldierscouldrunthoughhehadtounhookandrehookwithsplit-secondtimingateacheyeletintherooftoavoidfallingintotheroaringtorrentbeneath.Ashecaughtupwiththesoldiers,hereversedhisfirstmaneuverand
unhookedatthecrucialmoment,throwinghisbodysidewayssothathelandedontheembankmentjustaheadoftheTemplars.Theystoppeddead,panting,facinghim.“Heisamadman,”saidthefirstTemplar.“Thisisnoman—thisisademon,”asecondcried.“Let’sseeifdemonsbleed,”bellowedabravercomrade,comingatEzio,his
swordwhirlinginhishand.Ezioperformedahook-and-rolloverhisbackandpitchedhim,whilehewas
stilloffbalance,intotheriver.Threesoldiersremained.Thefighthadallbutgoneoutofthem,butEzioknewhecouldnotaffordtobemerciful.Theensuingclashwasshortandbloody,andleftEzionursingagashedleftarm;andthreecorpseslaybeforehim.Gulpingair,hemadehiswaybacktothesealeddoor.Theyhadcomealong
waydownriver,andittookhimagoodtenminutestoregainthejettywheretheraftshadoriginallybeenmoored.Butatleastheknewthatheneedbeinnoimmediatefearofpursuit;andthebarrelofgunpowderwasstilllodgedwheretheTemplarsoldiershadplacedit.Replacinghishookbladewithhispistoloncemore,Ezioloadedit,chosea
positionupstream,fromwherehecouldtakecoverbehindaprojectingbuttress,tookcarefulaim,andfired.Therewasthecrackofthepistolandthehissoftheballasitshottowardthe
barrel,eventhethudasitstruckhome,butthentherewas,forwhatseemedaneternity,silence.
Nothinghappened.Butthen...Theexplosioninthoseconfineswaslikeathunderclap,andEziowas
deafened,thinking,astinystonesraineddownallaroundhim,thathemighthavebroughttheroofin,thathemighthaveirreparablydamagedwhateverwasbehindthedoor.Butwhenthedustsettled,hecouldseethatforalltheforceoftheexplosion,thesealedentrancewasstillonlypartiallybreached.Enough,however,forhimtolookwithinitandseethefamiliarplinth,on
which,tohisintenserelief,thecircularobsidiankey,partnertotheothershehadcollected,restedundamaged.Buthehadnotimetorelax.Evenashereachedforit,henoticed,emanatingfromit,theglowthathehadexperiencedwiththeothers.Asitgrewinintensity,hetried,thistime,toresistitspower.Hefeltundermined,unsettledbythestrangevisionsthatsucceededtheblindinglighthehadcometoexpect.Butitwasnouse,andhefelthimselfoncemoresurrenderingtoapowerfar
greaterthanhisown.
FIFTY-FOUR
ToEzio,itappearedthattwentylongyearshadpassed.Thelandscapewasoneheknew,andthere,risingfromitlikeagiantclaw,stoodtheby-now-familiarcastleofMasyaf.Notfarfromitsgate,agroupofthreeAssassinssatnearablazingcampfire...TheAssassins’faceswerethoseofpeoplewhosebetterdreamshavegone
dark.Whentheyspoke,theirvoiceswerequiet,weary.“Theysayhescreamsinhissleep,callingoutforhisfather.AhmadSofian,”
saidoneofthem.Oneofthemenscoffedbitterly.“So,Cemal,hecallsoutforhisdaddy,does
he?WhatamiserablemanAbbasis.”Theyhadtheirfacestothefireanddidnotatfirstnoticetheold,cowledman
inwhiterobeswhowasapproachingthroughthedarkness.“Itisnotourplacetojudge,Teragani,”saidthesecondman,coldly.“Itcertainlyis,Tazim,”Cemalcutin.“IfourMentorhasgonemad,Iwantto
knowaboutit.”Theoldmanhadcomeclose,andtheybecameawareofhim.“Hush,Cemal,”saidTazim.Turningtogreetthenewcomer,hesaid,“Masa’il
kher.”Theoldman’svoicewasasdryasadeadleaf.“Water,”hesaid.Teraganistoodandpassedhimasmallgourdwhichhehaddippedinawater
jarnexttohim.“Sit.Drink,”saidCemal.“Manythanks,”saidtheoldman.Theotherswatchedhimashedrankquietly.“Whatbringsyouhere,oldman?”askedTazim,aftertheirguesthaddrunkhis
fill.Thestrangerthoughtforamomentbeforehespoke.Thenhesaid,“Pity
Abbas,butdonotmockhim.Hehaslivedasanorphanmostofhislifeandbeenshamedbyhisfamily’slegacy.”Tazimlookedshockedatthisstatement,butTeraganismiledquietly.Hestole
aglanceattheoldman’shandandsawthathisleft-handringfingerwas
missing.So,unlessitwasanextraordinarycoincidence,themanwasanAssassin.Teraganilookedcovertlyatthelined,gauntface.Therewassomethingfamiliaraboutit...“Abbasisdesperateforpowerbecauseheispowerless,”theoldman
continued.“ButheisourMentor!”Tazimcried.“And,unlikeAlMualimorAltaïrIbn-
La’Ahad,heneverbetrayedus!”“Nonsense,”Teraganisaid.“Altaïrwasnotraitor.”Helookedattheoldman
keenly.“Altaïrwasdrivenout—unjustly.”“Youdon’tknowwhatyouspeakof!”stormedTazim,and,rising,hestrode
offintothedarkness.TheoldmanlookedatTeraganiandCemalfrombeneathhiscowlbutsaid
nothing.Teraganilookedatthefaceagain.Mostofitwasshadedbythehood,buttheeyescouldnotbehidden.AndTeraganihadnoticedthattheman’srightcuffjustfailedtoconcealtheharnessofahidden-blade.TheAssassinspoketentatively.“Isit...Isit—you?”Hepaused.“Iheard
rumors,butIdidnotbelievethem.”Theoldmangavetheghostofasmile.“IwonderifImightspeakwithAbbas
myself.Ithasbeenalongtime.”CemalandTeraganilookedateachother.Cemaldrewinalongbreath.He
tooktheoldman’sgourdfromhimandrefilledit,handingitbacktohimwithreverence.Hespokeawkwardly.“Thatwouldbeimpossible.AbbasemploysrogueFedayeentokeepusfromtheinnersanctumofthecastle,thesedays.”“LessthanhalfthefightersherearetrueAssassinsnow,”addedTeragani.He
paused,thensaid:“Altaïr.”Theoldmansmiledandnodded,almostimperceptibly.“ButIcanseethatthe
trueAssassinsremainjustthat—true,”hesaid.“Youhavebeenawayalongtime,Mentor.Wheredidyougo?”“Itraveled.Studied.Studieddeeply.Rested.Recoveredfrommylosses,
learnedtolivewiththem.Inshort,Ididwhatanyoneinmypositionwouldhavedone.”Hepaused,andhistonealteredslightlyashewenton:“IalsovisitedourBrothersatAlamut.”“Alamut?Howdotheyfare?”Altaïrshookhishead.“Itisoverforthemnow.TheMongolsunderKhan
Hulaguoverranthemandtookthefortress.Theydestroyedthelibrary.TheMongolsrangeeverwestwardlikeaplagueoflocusts.Ouronlyhopefornowistoreaffirmourpresencehereandinthewest.Wemustbestronghere.But
perhapsourbasesfromnowonshouldbeamongthepeople,notinfortresseslikeMasyaf.”“Isitreallyyou?”askedCemal.“Hush!”Teraganiinterrupted.“Wedonotwanttogethimkilled.”Cemalsuddenlytensed.“Tazim!”hesaid,suddenlyworried.Teraganigrinned.“Tazimismorebarkthanbite.Helikesanargumentforits
ownsakemorethananythingelseintheworld.Andhehasbeenasdispiritedasus,whichhasn’thelpedhismood.Besides,heleftbeforethislittleplayreacheditsdenouement!”HeturnedtoAltaïr,alltraceofhisformerdespondencygone.“Weclearlyhaveworktodo.”“So,”saidtheoldman,“wheredoIbegin?”CemallookedagainatTeragani.Theybothroseandpulledtheirhoodsup
overtheirheads.“Withus,Altaïr,”hesaid.Altaïrsmiledandroseinhisturn.Hegotuplikeanoldman,butoncehewas
onhisfeet,hestoodfirm.
FIFTY-FIVE
Theywalkedtowardthecastletogether.“Yousaythesemenarecruel,”saidAltaïr.“Hasanymanraisedhisblade
againstaninnocent?”“Alas,yes,”Cemalreplied.“Brutalityseemstobetheirsolesourceof
pleasure.”“Thentheymustdie,fortheyhavecompromisedtheOrder,”saidAltaïr.“But
thosewhostilllivebythecreedmustbespared.”“Youcanputyourtrustinus,”saidCemal.“Iamsureofit.Now—leaveme.Iwishtoreconnoiteralone,anditisnotasif
Iamunfamiliarwiththisplace.”“Wewillremainwithincall.”Altaïrnoddedandturnedtofacethecastlegatesashistwocompanionsfell
back.Heapproachedtheentrance,keepingtotheshadows,andpassedthesentrieswithoutdifficulty,thinkingwithregretthatnotrueAssassinsentrieswouldhavelethimslipbysoeasily.Hehuggedthewallsoftheouterbailey,skirtingthemuntilhewasabletocrosstoatorchlitguardpostnotfarfromthegatesoftheinner,wherehesawtwocaptainsengagedinconversation.Altaïrpausedtolistentothem.Afterafewwordshadbeenexchanged,heknewthemtobemenloyaltoAbbas.Abbas!Why,thoughtAltaïr,hadheshownthemanmercy?Whatsufferingmighthavebeenavoidedifhehadnot!Butthen,perhaps,afterall,mercyhadbeenAbbas’sdue,whateverthecostofit.“You’veheardthestoriesgoingaroundthevillage?”saidthefirstofficer.“AboutAbbasandhisnightmares?”“No,no—”thefirstmandroppedhisvoice.“AboutAltaïr.”“Altaïr?What?”“PeoplearesayingthatanoldAssassinsavedthelifeofamerchant,downin
thevalley.Theysayhefoughtwithahidden-blade.”Thesecondofficershookhishead,dismissively.“Rumors.Idon’tbelievea
wordofit.”“Trueornot,saynothingtoAbbas.Heissickwithsuspicion.”“IfAltaïrisanywhereintheseparts,weshouldactfirst—seekhimoutand
killhim,likethevileoldcurheis.Hewillonlyspreaddiscontentlikehedid
before,makingeachmanresponsibleforhisdecisions.UnderminingtheauthoritythathasmadeAbbasgreat.”“Anironfist.Thatisallanyoneunderstands.”“Youareright.Noorderwithoutcontrol.”Altaïrhadtakenhistimetoassessthesituation.HeknewthatCemaland
Teraganiweresomewhereintheshadowsbehindhim.Thetwoofficersseemedtobeallthatstoodbetweenhimandtheinnerbailey,andtheirspeechhadprovedthemtobesworntoAbbas’sdoctrines—doctrinesthathadfarmoretodowithTemplarthinkingthanthatoftrueAssassins.Hecoughed,verygently,andmovedintothepooloflight.Thetwoofficersturnedonhim.“Whothehellareyou?”“Clearout,oldman,ifyouknowwhat’sgoodforyou.”Thefirsttospeaklaughedharshly.“Whydon’twejustcuthimdownwherehe
stands?Thepigswillbegladoftheextrameal.”Altaïrdidnotspeak.Instead,heextendedhislefthand,palmtowardthem,so
thattheycouldseethathisringfingerwasmissing.Theytookastepback,simultaneouslydrawingtheirscimitars.“Theusurper
returns!”barkedthesecondcaptain.“Who’dhavethoughtit?Aftersolong.”“Whatbringsyouback?”“Adogreturningtoitsvomit.”“Youtalktoomuch,”saidAltaïr.Withtheeconomicalmovementsanoldman
mustlearn,butwithnoneofanoldman’sslowness,heunleashedhishidden-bladeashesteppedforwardandlunged—once,twice—withdeadlyaccuracy.Hemovedontowardthegatesoftheinnerbailey,stillwary,andhiscaution
paidoff.Hesawathirdcaptainstandingbythemandwasjustintimetoduckoutofsightbeforethemancouldnoticehim.Ashewatched,heheardafaintyellbehindhim,and,fromthedarkness,ayoungAssassincamesprintingtowardtheofficer.Hewhisperedsomethingtohim,andthecaptain’seyeswentwideinsurpriseandanger.Clearly,thebodiesofthecorruptAssassinsAltaïrhadjustdispatchedhadalreadybeendiscovered,andhisownpresencewoulddoubtlessnolongerbeasecret.Swiftly,Altaïrexchangedhishidden-bladeforthespring-loadedpistol,whichhehaddevelopedfromdesignsduringhisstudiesintheEast.“Sendhimamessage,quickly!”thecaptainwasorderinghisyoung
henchman.Heraisedhisvoice.“AssassinsoftheBrotherhoodofAbbas!To
me!”Altaïrhadstood,quietlyweighinghisoptions,whenfromclosetohiselbowa
friendlyvoicesaid:“Mentor!”HeturnedtoseeCemalandTergani.Withthemwerehalfadozenfellow
Assassins.“Wecouldnotpreventthediscoveryofthosecaptainsyoukilled—twoofthe
cruelestintheband,whowouldneverhasrisentorankunderanyonesaveAbbas,”Cemalexplainedquickly.“Butwehavebroughtreinforcements.Andthisisonlyastart.”“Welcome.”Altaïrsmiled.Cemalsmiledback.Behindhim,thelittledetachmentoftrueAssassinsraised
theirhoods,almostinunison.“We’dbettershuthimup,”saidTeragani,noddingtowardtheblusteringthird
captain.“Allowme,”saidAltaïr.“Ineedtheexercise.”HesteppedforwardtoconfronttherogueAssassinofficer.Bythen,anumber
oftheman’sownrenegadesoldiershadrushedtohisaid.“Thereheis!”yelledthecaptain.“Killhim!Killallthetraitors!”“Thinkbeforeyouact,”saidAltaïr.“Everyactionhasitsconsequences.”“Youpatheticmiser!Standdownordie!”“Youcouldhavebeenspared,friend,”saidAltaïr,ashissupportersstepped
outoftheshadows.“Iamnotyourfriend,oldman,”retortedthecaptain,andrushedAltaïr,slicing
athimwithhisswordbeforetheoldMentorseemedfullyready.Buthewasready.Theconflictwasshortandbloody.Attheendofit,the
captainandmostofhismenlaydeadunderthegates.“Followmetothecastlekeep,”criedAltaïr.“Andspillnomorebloodifyou
canhelpit.RememberthetrueCode.”Butnow,attheportaltotheinnerbailey,anothercaptainstood,inhisblack
anddarkgreyrobes,theAssassinemblemglintingonhisbeltinthetorchlight.Hewasanolderman,ofperhapssomefiftysummers.“AltaïrIbn-La’Ahad,”hesaidinafirmvoicethatknewnofear.“Twodecades
havepassedsincewelastsawyouwithinthesewalls.Twodecadeswhich,Isee,havebeenkindertoyourfacethantheyhavebeentoourdecrepitOrder.”Hepaused.“Abbasusedtotellusstories...AboutAltaïrthearrogant.Altaïrthedeceiver.Altaïrthebetrayer.ButIneverbelievedthesetales.AndnowIseehere,standingbeforeme,AltaïrtheMaster.AndIamhumbled.”
Hesteppedforwardandextendedhisarminfriendship.Altaïrtookitinafirmgrasp,handgrippingwrist,inaRomanhandshake.AnumberofAssassinguards,clearlyhismen,rangedthemselvesbehindhim.“Wecoulduseyourwisdom,greatMaster.Now,morethanever.”Hestoodbackandaddressedhistroops:“OurMentorisreturned!”Thesoldierssheathedtheirdrawnweaponsandraisedtheirhoods.Joining
forceswithAltaïr’sexistinggroupofloyalAssassins,theymadetheirwaytowardthedark-toweredkeepofMasyaf.
FIFTY-SIX
ButhardlyweretheywithintheconfinesoftheinnerbaileythanAbbashimselfappeared,behindadetachmentofrogueAssassins.Abbas,recognizablestill,butanoldman,too,withsunkeneyesandhollowcheeks—ahaunted,frightened,drivenman.“Killhim!”bellowedAbbas.“Killhimnow!”Hismenhesitated.“Whatareyouwaitingfor?”Abbasscreamedatthem,hisvoicecrackingasit
strained.Buttheywerefrozenwithindecision,lookingattheirfellowsstandingagainst
themandateachother.“Youfools!Hehasbewitchedyou!”Stillnothing.Abbaslookedatthem,spat,anddisappearedwithinthekeep.Therewasstillastandoff,asAssassinconfrontedAssassin.Inthetense
silence,Altaïrraisedhislefthand—theonemaimedathisinitiationintotheBrotherhood.“Thereisnowitchcrafthere,”hesaidsimply.“Norsorcery.Doasyour
consciencebids.Butdeathhasstalkedheretoolong.Andwehavetoomanyrealenemies—wecan’taffordtoturnagainsteachother.”OneofAbbas’sreluctantdefendersdoffedhercowlandsteppedforward,
kneelingbeforeAltaïr.“Mentor,”shesaid.Anotherquicklyjoinedher.“Welcomehome,”sheadded.Thenathird:“Ifightforyou.FortheOrder.”TheothersquicklyfollowedtheexampleofthethreewomenAssassins,
greetingAltaïrasalong-lostbrother,embracingtheirformeropponentsinfellowshipagain.OnlyahandfulstillspatinsultsandretreatedafterAbbasintothekeep.Altaïr,attheheadofhistroop,ledthewayintothekeepitself.Theystopped
inthegreathall,lookinguptowhereAbbasstoodattheheadofthecentralstaircase.HewasflankedbyrogueAssassinsloyaltohim,andspearmenandarchersrangedthegallery.Altaïrregardedthemcalmly.Underhisgaze,therogueAssassinswavered.
Buttheydidnotbreak.
“Tellyourmentostanddown,Abbas,”hecommanded.“Never!IamdefendingMasyaf!Wouldyounotdothesame?”“Abbas,youcorruptedeverythingwestandforandlosteverythingwegained.
Allofitsacrificedonthealtarofyourownspite.”“Asyou,”Abbasspatback.“Youhavewastedyourlifestaringintothat
accursedApple,dreamingonlyofyourownglory.”Altaïrtookastepforward.Ashedidso,twoofAbbas’sspearmenstepped
forward,brandishingtheirarms.“Abbas—itistruethatIhavelearnedmanythingsfromtheApple.Aboutlife
anddeath,andaboutthepastandthefuture.”Hepaused.“Iregretthis,myoldcomrade,butIseethatIhavenochoicebuttodemonstratetoyouoneofthethingsIhavelearned.Nothingelsewillstopyou,Isee.Andyouwillneverchangenowandseethelightthatisstillavailabletoyou.”“Killthetraitors!”Abbasshoutedinreply.“Killeveryoneofthemandthrow
theirbodiesontothedunghill!”Abbas’smenbristled,butheldofftheirattack.Altaïrknewthattherewasno
turningbacknow.Heraisedhisgunarm,unleashedthepistolfromitsharness,and,asitsprangintohisgrip,aimedandfiredatthemanwho,sevendecadesearlier,had,forashorttime,beenhisbestfriend.Abbasstaggeredundertheblowoftheballasitstruckhim,alookofdisbelief
andsurpriseonhiswizenedfeatures.Hegaspedandswayed,reachingoutwildlyforsupport,butnoonecametohisaid.Andthenhefell,crashingoverandoverdownthelongstonestaircase,to
cometorestatAltaïr’sfeet.Hislegshadbrokeninthefallandstuckoutatcrazyanglesfromhisbody.Buthewasnotdead.Notyet.Hemanagedtoraisehimselfpainfully,high
enoughtoholdhisheadup,andlookAltaïrintheeye.“Icanneverforgiveyou,Altaïr,”hemanagedtocroak.“Fortheliesyoutold
aboutmyfamily,myfather.ForthehumiliationIsuffered.”Altaïrlookeddownathim,buttherewasonlyregretinhiseyes.“Theywere
notlies,Abbas.Iwastenyearsoldwhenyourfathercametomyroom,toseeme.Hewasintears,beggingtobeforgivenforbetrayingmyfamily.”Altaïrpaused.“Thenhecuthisownthroat.”Abbasheldhisenemy’seyebutdidnotspeak.Thepaininhisfacewasthatof
amanconfrontingatruthhecouldnotbear.“Iwatchedhislifeebbawayatmyfeet,”Altaïrwenton.“Ishallneverforget
thatimage.”
Abbasmoanedinagony.“No!”“Buthewasnotacoward,Abbas.Hereclaimedhishonor.”Abbasknewhehadnotmuchlongertolive.Thelightinhiseyeswasalready
fadingashesaid:“Ihopethereisanotherlifeafterthis.AtleastthenIshallseehim,andknowthetruthofhisfinaldays...”Hecoughed,themovementrackinghisbody,andwhenhisbreathcameagain
ashestrovetospeak,therattlewasalreadyinit.Butwhenhefoundhisvoice,itwasfirm,anditwasunrepentant.“Andwhenitisyourtime,OAltaïr,then,thenwewillfindyou.Andthen
therewillbenodoubts.”Abbas’sarmscollapsed,andhisbodyslumpedtothestonefloor.Altaïrstoodoverhiminthesilencethatsurroundedthem,hisheadbowed.
Therewasnomovementbutthatoftheshadowsstirredbytheflickeringtorchlight.
FIFTY-SEVEN
WhenEziocametohimself,hefearedthatthedawnwouldhavebroken,buthesawonlythepalestshadesofredintheskytotheeast,andthesunhadnotyetevenbreachedthelowbrownhillsofAsia,whichlayinthedistancebeyondthecity.Weary,worn-outbyhisexperience,hemadehiswayfirsttotheAssassins’
headquarters,togivethekeyintothesafekeepingofAzize.Then,hislegsachingunderhim,hemadehiswayalmostinstinctivelytoSofia’sshop.Itwouldbeearlystill,buthe’dringthebelluntilsheawokeinherapartmentaboveit,andhehopedshe’dbepleasedtoseehim—oratleast,thenewadditiontoherlibrary.Buthewasfranklytootiredtocarewhethershe’dbeexcitedornot.Hejustwantedtoliedownandsleep.Lateron,heknew,hehadarendezvouswithYusufattheSpiceMarket,andhehadtobefreshforthat.Hewasalsoimpatientfornewsofhisship—theonethatwouldtakehimto
Mersin,fromwhencehe’djourneynorthintoCappadocia.Andthatjourney,heknew,wouldrequireallthestrengthhecouldsummonup.TheSpiceMarketwasalreadycrowdedbythetimeEzioreachedit,thoughhehadcontentedhimselfwithameretwohours’rest.Ezioshoulderedhiswaythroughthepeoplemillingaroundthestallsuntil,afewyardsaheadofhim,hesawathiefintheactofgrabbingalarge,stiffbagofspices,givingtheelderlytraderwhotriedtostophimaviciousshoveashemadehisgetaway.Byluck,thethiefraninEzio’sdirection,snakinghiswaythroughthemob
withextraordinaryagility.ButashecameabreastofEzio,theAssassintrippedhimupneatlywithhishookblade.ThethiefdroppedthesackashefellandglaredupatEzio,butonelookfromhisattackermadehimdropanythoughtofretaliation,and,pickinghimselfup,hevanishedintothecrowdasfastasaratintoitshole.“Thankyou,efendim,”saidthegratefultrader,asEziohandedhisbagbackto
him.“Saffron.Youhavesparedmeagreatloss.Perhapsyouwillaccept...?”ButEziohadspottedYusufinthecrowd,and,aftershakinghisheadand
smilingbrieflyatthetrader,hemadehiswayovertohislieutenant.“Whatnews?”hesaidashereachedhim.“Wehavehadword—verydiscreetly—thatyourshipisreadytosail,”said
Yusuf.“Ididnotknowthatyouplannedtoleaveus.”“IsnothingIdoasecret?”Ezioanswered,laughinglightlybutgladtohear
thatSuleimanhadkepthisword.“Theyoungprince’sspiesarealmostasgoodasourown,”repliedYusuf.“I
expecthesentwordtomebecauseheknewyouwere...otherwiseengaged.”EziothoughtbacktothetwohourshehadspentwithSofiaandwasgladthat
hehadmanagedtohavethemsincenowhedidnotknowwhenhewouldseeheragain—ifhewouldseeheragain.Andstillhehadnotdaredtellherofthefeelingsthatweregrowingwithinhimandwouldnolongerbedenied.Coulditreallybethathislongwaitforlovewasfinallycomingtoanend?Ifitwas,itwouldhavecertainlybeenworthit.Buthehadother,moreimmediatethingsonhismind.“Wehadhopedtohavehadyourbrokenhidden-bladerepairedbynow,”
Yusufwenton.“ButtheonlyarmorerskilledenoughtodotheworkisinSalonicaandwillnotreturnuntilnextmonth.”“Keeptheblade,andwhenitisrepaired,addittoyourownarmory,”said
Ezio.“Inexchangeformyhook-blade.Itismorethanafairtrade.”“Iamgladyouappreciateitsqualities.Ijustwatchedyoudealwiththatthief,
andIthinkyouhavemorethanmastereditsuse.”“Icouldnothavedonewithoutit.”Thetwomengrinnedateachother,butthenEzio’sexpressionbecame
serious.“Ihope,though,thatmyintendedvoyageisnotcommonknowledge.”Yusufgavealittlelaugh.“Nottoworry,brother.Thecaptainofyourshipisa
friend,andalreadyknowntoyou.”“Who,then?”“PiriReis.Youarehonored.”Yusufpaused,troublednow.“Butneitherofyou
isgoinganywherejustyet.”“Whatdoyoumean?”“TheJanissarieshaveraisedthechainacrossthemouthoftheGoldenHorn
andorderedafullblockadeuntilyouarecaught.”Yusufpaused.“Untilthatchainisdown,nothingsailsinorout.”Eziofeltratherproud.“Youmeantheyraisedthechainforme?”Yusufwasamused.“Wewillcelebratelater.Here—Ihavesomethingfor
you.”
DrawingEziointoadiscreetalcove,heproducedabombandcarefullyhandeditover.“Treatthiswithrespect.Ithasfiftytimesthekickofourusualbombs.”“Thankyou.Andyouhadbettergatheryourpeople.Thiswillattractsome
attention.”“Herearetwosmokebombs.Youmayfindthemuseful,too.”“Bene.Iknowwhattodo.”“I’msure.Thesuspenseispalpable,”jokedYusuf.“I’lltakethetoweronthesouthbank.It’scloser.”“I’lljoinyouatthequayandpointyourshipouttoyou.Sinaviciniyi
sanslar!”Eziogrinned.“Goodlucktoyou,too,myfriend.”YusufwasabouttogowhenEziostoppedhim.“Yusuf,wait.Unfavore.”“Yes?”“ThereisawomanrunningabookshopattheoldPolotradingpost...Sofia.
Lookoutforher.Sheisaremarkablelady.”Yusufgavehimakeenlook,thensaid,seriously.“Youhavemyword.”“Thankyou.Andnow—wehaveworktodo.”“Thesoonerthebetter!”
Placingthebombcarefullyinhissidepouch,andhookingthesmokebombsontohisbelt,Ezioswappedhisleft-handhidden-bladeforhispistolandimmediatelyhastenednorthtowardthetoweroppositeGalata,onthesouthsideoftheHorn.Thegreatchainwassuspendedbetweenthetwobanks.There,Yusufjoinedhim.“Myarchersareinplace.They’llcoveryour
escape,”hesaid.“Now—look—there,intheouterharbor.Thereddhowwiththefurledwhitesailandthesilverpennant?ThatisPiri’sship.Itiscrewedandready.Heiswaitingforyou.”Therewasanopenareaaroundthetower,surroundedbyrampartsandtwo
smallerwatchtowersfromthetopsofwhichtauthaulageropesleddowntojettiesandthewesternandeasternextremitiesofthearea.Attheouterpointofoneofthem,Ezionoticedaweaponemplacement.Amassivesquitatoria,aflamethrowerforGreekfire,stoodprimed,heated,andreadyforaction,mannedbyacrewofthree.
AroundthetoweritselfstoodanumberofOttomanguards.Eziowouldhavetoputallofthemoutofcommissionbeforehe’dbeabletoplacethebomb,andhethankedYusufsilentlyforthesmokebombs.Therewasnowheretotakecover,sohemovedinboldlyandquicklyforafrontalattack.Assoonastheguardssawhim,ahueandcrywasraised,andtheymassedto
fallonhim.Hestoodhisground,lettingthemapproachbutdrawinghisscarfcloselyoverhisnoseandmouthandpullinghishoodlowoverhiseyes.Assoonastheywerewithinrange,hepulledthepinsonbothbombsand
threwthemtotherightandleftamongtheguards.Theydetonatedinstantly,anddensegreysmokebillowedout,encompassingtheguardsinamoment.Divingintotheconfusion,Ezio,eyesnarrowedagainsttheacridfumes,drewhisscimitarandwithitcutdownallthedefenselesssoldiersastheystaggeredabout,disorientedbytheunexpectedfogthatsuddenlysurroundedthem.Hehadtoactquickly,forthelightwindblowinginfromtheBosphoruswouldsoondispersethesmoke,buthesucceeded,andplacedthebombonaledgeatthebaseofthetower,justbeneaththefirsthugelinksofthechain,whichroseabovehisheadtothewinchroominside.Thenhetookagoodfewstepsbacktowardthewater’sedgeandfromthereunleashedhispistolandfiredatthebomb,ignitingit,theninstantlydivingforcoverbehindalargeironbollardonthequay.Theexplosionwasimmense.Grimeandstoneswerethrowneverywhereas
thecolossalchainssnappedfreeofthetowerandwhiplashedoverEzio’sheadintothewater,snappingships’mastsastheyflewpast.AsEziowatched,thetoweritselfshiftedonitsbase.Itshiftedagain,seemingtosettle;butthenitimploded,collapsinginamassofbrokenbrickanddust.Momentslater,aplatoonofJanissariesrushedintothesquare,heading
straightforEzio,whobythenhadbrokencover.Hedodgedpastthemandusedhishookbladetoscaletheeasternwatchtower,knockingouttheguardatitstopwhenhereacheditandhookinghimselftotheropeleadingfromitdowntothejettyonwhichthesquitatoriawasplaced.Ashepreparedtoeffectazipline,hesawtheJanissariesfittingarrowstotheirbows,butbeforetheyhadtimetotakeaimandfire,theythemselveswerecutdownbyahailofarrowsthatraineddownonthemfromAssassinbows.MoreAssassinsrushedintotheareaaroundtheruinedtower,skippinglightlyoverthedebristoengagewiththeJanissarieswho’dsurvivedthefirstonslaught.AmongthemwasYusuf.Lookingup,heyelledtoEzio,“Remember—thered
dhow!Andtheshipsbetweenyouanditarearmed—they’llstopyoufromsailingiftheycan.”
“I’lltakecareofthem,”Eziocalledback,grimly.“Andwe’llclearthedocks!”Eziolettheropetakehisweightonthehookbladeandkickedofffromthe
watchtower,zoomingdowntotheflamethroweremplacementandleapingoffjustbeforehereachedit,throwinghimselfatthenearestofthecrew,whowerepreparingtoturntheirweaponontheAssassinsfightingbythetower.Thefirstheknockedintothewater,wherethemanwascrushedbetweentheshiftinghullsoftwomooredbarges.Theothersheswiftlydispatchedwithhishookblade.Hescannedtheflamethrower,quicklyacquaintinghimselfwithits
mechanism.Itwasonaswivelbase,operatedbyacrankattheleft-handside.Thecannonitselfwasmadeofbrass,itsmouthintheshapeofalion’shead,fromwhichtheendofthebronzetubewithinprojectedslightly.Onitsedgeitwasaflintthatcouldbesparkedbythetriggermechanism,whichalsoreleasedthepressurizedoilvaporthatwouldbeshotfromtheheatedvatinthebaseoftheweapon.Heheardavoicecomingtohimfromthemeleenearthebrokentower.Itwas
Yusuf.“That’sit!GettheshipswithGreekfire,”hewasyelling.“Ilikethewayyouthink,Ezio!”AcrosstheHorn,onthenorthbank,theOttomanGuardwerebringinguptwo
cannon,whichtheytrainedontheAssassinsfightingnearEzio.Soonafterward,asEziowascrankingroundandtrainingtheflamethroweronthenearestships,hesawthepuffsofsmokefromthecannonmouths,thenheardthecrumpoftheirdetonations.Thefirstcannonballfellintothewater,shortofwherehewas,butthesecondsmashedintothejetty,makingitlurchdangerously.Butitdidnotcollapse.Eziosteadiedhimselfandpressedthetrigger.Withaloudroar,alongtongue
offlameinstantlyshotforth,andheplayeditacrosstheyardsanddecksofthethreeshipsridingbetweenhimandPiri’sdhow.Thefirehe’dsetsprangupinamoment.Eziokeptpressingthetriggeruntilalltheoilinthetankwasusedup,then,abandoningtheweapon,heleaptdownontooneofthebargesridingbeneaththejetty,sprintingitslengthandvaultingfromittocatchholdoftheoutergunwaleofthefirstburningship,haulinghimselfupontothedeckwithhishookbladeandtheremanagingtofightofftwodesperatesailorswhocametowardhimwithbelayingpins.Hescaledtheforemastfromtheburningdeckandwasjustintimetoziplinedownayardandhurlhimselffromitontothesecondshipinlinebeforethemastbehindhimsnappedinthefireandcollapsedinachaosofflameontothedeckoftheshiphe’djustleft.
Thesecondship,too,wasburningfiercely,andbeginningtosinkattheafterend.Herantowardtheprow,pushingasideahandfulofpanickingmariners,andranalongitsbowsprittoleapfromtheretothethirdship,lessdamagedthanthefirsttwo,wherethecrewwaspreparingtoturntheircannonontothereddhow,nowonlytwentyyardsdistant.ToEzio’salarm,hesawPirishoutingorderstomakesail,andhissailorswerelettingoutthesheetsfrantically,inordertocatchthewindandgetoutoffiringrange.EzioraisedhisvoiceandcalledforaidfromtheBrotherhood,butwhenhe
lookedaround,hesawthatanumberofhisfellowAssassinshadalreadyfollowedhisperilousrouteandwererightbehindhim,readytopounce.Betweenthem,theysetontheguncrews,andafierceandbloodyskirmish
followed,leavingseveralAssassinsandallthemarinersontheblockadeshipdead.Onthereddhow,PirihadraisedanarmtohaltoperationsandwasbellowingtoEziotomakehastethoughhisvoicewaslostinthetumultoverthecannon.Butatlast,Eziostoodatthegunwaleoftheblockadeship.Heusedhis
crossbowtofirealineovertothedhow,whichPiri’screwsecured,thenheziplinedacrossthechoppywater.Behindhim,thesurvivingAssassinswavedtheirfarewellbeforetakingtothe
doomedship’sboatsandmakingfortheshore.Eziosalutedback,catchinghisbreathandwheezingalittle.Heflexedhis
joints,whichwerejustalittlestiff.ThenhewassurroundedbyahandfulofPiri’smen,whocheckedhimoverforwoundsandconductedhimtothewheelhouse,wherePiristoodbeforethenow-fully-unfurledforesail.“Youtookyourtime,”saidPiriReiswithabroadgrinthatwasnotunmixed
withconcern.“Yes.Sorryforthedelay.”Themenattheprowwerealreadyhaulinguptheanchors,and,momentslater,
thedhowpickedupthewindandmadeitsway,gingerlybutunimpeded,pastrowsofburningblockadeships—thewindthatcarriedthemforwardhadalsoseentoitthatthefirestartedbyEziohadspread,andtheshipshadbeenanchoredtooclosetogetherforsafety.“LuckyIwasupwindofthatlot,”Pirisaid.“ButIexpectyounoticedthat
fromthebeginning.”“Naturally,”Eziosaid.“Well,”saidPiri,asthereddhoweasedoutoftheHornandintothe
Bosphorus,steeringasouthboundcourse.“Thisshouldbeaninterestingtrip.”
PARTII
ThesoundsIheardbroughtbackintomymindthesameimpressionthatweoftengetwhenorgansplay,accompanyingavoice.Now,yes,wehearthewords;now,nowedon’t.
—DANTE,PURGATORIO
FIFTY-EIGHT
AtMersin,EziotookhisleaveoftheTurkishadmiral.Thesunsparkledonthesea.“MayAllahprotectyou,myfriend,”saidtheseafarer.“Mythanks,PiriReis.”“Iwillawaityourreturnhere.ButIcannotstayforever.”“Iknow.”“Willyounottakesomeofmymenwithyou?”“No—itisbestthatItravelalone.”“Thenatleastallowmetoarrangeahorseforyou.Youwilltravelfaster,and
moresafely.”“Iwillbegratefulforthat.”“Youareabraveman,EzioAuditore,andaworthyfollowerofthegreat
Mentor,Altaïr.”“Youdometoomuchhonor.”Eziolookedinland,hisfaceset.“IfIhavenot
returnedwithintwocoursesofthemoon...”PiriReisnodded,gravely.“GowithwhicheverGodguidesyou,”hesaid,as
theyshookhandsinfarewell.Thetwo-weekvoyagewasfollowedbyafurthertwo-weektreknorth,firstacrosstheTaurusMountains,then,afterbreakinghisjourneyatNigde,betweentheTaurusandtheMelendizranges,onnorthagainthroughthelowbrownhillstoDerinkuyu,whereEzioknewManuelPalaiologos’srebelarmywasmassing.HebrokehisjourneyagaininthegrimlittlevillageofNadarim,withinsight
ofthecitythatwashisgoal.Thefoulnessoftheplacecontrastedwiththebeautifulcountrysideinwhichitwassituated.Fewpeoplewereabout,asitwasjustbeforedawn,andthefewwhowereeyedEziowarilyasherodeintothecentralsquare,whichwasflankedononesidebyachurch.Therewasnosignofanymilitaryactivity,andEzio,afterhavingstabledhis
horse,decidedtoscalethechurch’sbelltower,togetabetterviewofDerinkuyuitself.
Hepeeredthroughthelighteningskywitheagleeyes,scanningthelowbuildingsthatcomprisedthenot-far-distantcity,afewspirespiercingitsprofile.Buttherewasnoobvioussignofanygarrisonthereeither.But,asheknew,therecouldbeareasonforthat.Hedescendedagain.Thesquarewasdeserted,andEziowasimmediatelyon
hisguard.Hisintentionhadbeentorideon,butnowhewonderedifitwouldbesafetoretrievehishorse.Hissuspicionsmountedashespiedafigurelurkingintheshadowsoftheneglectedchurchwalls.Hedecidedtoapproach.Ashedidso,thefigurespunroundtofacehim,brandishingadagger.Itwasa
youngwoman.Tough,wiry,tanned.Almostferal.“Notsoclose,adiherif!”shegrowled.Ezioraisedhishands.“Whoareyoucallingapig?”heasked,calmly.Hesaw
doubtflickerinhereyes.“Whoareyou?OneofManuel’sscum?”“Easy,now.Tariksentme.”Thegirlhesitated,thenloweredherblade.“Whoareyou?”“Auditore,Ezio.”Sherelaxedsomemore.“Wehadwordfromtheyoungprince,”shesaid.“As
wehadnewsofTarik’send.Abadbusiness,andjustwhenhewassoclose.IamDilara,”sheadded.“Tarik’sprincipalagenthere.Whyhavetheyonlysentyou?Whynotmore?DidtheynotgetmyreportsinKostantiniyye?”“Iamenough.”Eziolookedaround.“Whereareyourpeople?”Dilaraspat.“CapturedbyByzantinesoveraweekago.Iwasdressedtolook
likeaslaveandmanagedtoescape.Buttheothers...”Shetrailedoff,shakingherhead.Thendartedhimaglance.“Areyouacapablefighter?”“Iliketothinkso.”“Whenyou’vemadeupyourmind,comeandfindme.Inthetown,overthere.
I’llbewaitingbythewestgatetotheundergroundcity.”Sheflashedherteethathimandwhiskedaway,fastasalizard.
FIFTY-NINE
Ezioequippedhimselfwithhispistolonhisleftwrist,hishidden-bladeonhisright,andabraceofsmokebombsclippedtohisbelt.Hekeptthehookbladeinhispack.HefoundDilarawaitingattheappointedplacetwohourslater.Thegateshe
hadmentionedwaslarge,iron-bound,andshut.Shegreetedhimcurtlyandbeganwithoutfurtherpreamble:“TheByzantines
tookmymenintothiscavesystemsomedaysago.FromwhatIcantell,thisgateistheleastprotectedofthelot.Everysooften,thesoldiersbringrefusethroughhere,butitisdesertedmostofthetime.”“So—wesneakin,freeyourmen,andleadthemoutthroughhere?”“Exactly...”Eziotriedthedoor.Itdidn’tbudge.HeturnedtoDilarawithadisappointed
smirk,feelingsheepish.“Iwasgoingontosay,afteryouunlockitfromtheinside,”Dilaraconcluded,
drily.“Ofcourse.”“Comewithme.”Sheledthewaytowheretheyhadsightofanother,largergate,madeofa
hugecircularstonethatcouldberolledopenandclosedinastonetrack.Itopenedastheywatched.Soldiersemergedandformedranksbeforemarchingoffonpatrol.“Themainentranceisthere,atthefootofthathill.Butitiswellguarded.”“Waithere,”saidEzio.“Whereareyougoing?”“Ineedtogetafeelforthisplace.”“You’llneedaguide.”“Why?”“It’sawarren.Youseethosetowers?”“Yes.”“Ventilatorshafts.Andwaterconduits.Thereareelevenfloorsofthecity,and
theygodownthreehundredfeet.”“I’llmanage.”
“You’reanarrogantman.”“No.Iamcautious.AndIamnotunprepared.Iknowthisplacewasmadeby
Phrygiansfifteenhundredyearsago,andIknowalittleofitsgeography.”“Thenyou’llalsoknowwhat’sdownthere:anundergroundriversystematthe
verybottom,andaboveit,ontenmorelevels,churches,schools,shops,stores,stableseven;androomforfiftythousandpeople.”“Bigenoughtoconcealagarrison,infact.”Dilaralookedathim.“You’llneedaguide,”sherepeated.“Ineedsomebodyhere.”“ThengowithGod,”shesaid.“Butbequick.Assoonasthepatrolshaveall
comeout,they’llrollthegateclosedagain.Withluck,you’llbeabletogetinwiththesupplywagonsoverthere.I’llwaitbythewestgate.”Ezionoddedandsilentlytookhisleave.
HeblendedinwiththelocalByzantinepeople,whoseemedlessthanhappywiththenewmilitarypresenceintheirmidst,andmanagedtopassthroughthegate,walkingalongsideanoxcart,withoutdifficulty.Thetorchlitinteriorilluminatedyellowishbeigewallsofsoftvolcanicrock,
besmirchedwiththesootofages,andyettheairwasfresh.Thestreets—ifyoucouldcallthebroad,grimycorridorsthat—werealivewithsoldiersandcitizens,jostlingoneanotherastheywentabouttheirbusiness,andEziomadehiswayamongthem,penetratingeverdeeperintotheundergroundcity’sinterior.Atlast,onthesecondlevelbelowground,hecameuponaspacioushall,with
abarrel-vaultedroofanddecoratedwithfadedfrescoes.Hemadehiswayalongoneofthegalleriesandlookeddownonthefiguresinthemainroomtwentyfeetbelowhim.Theacousticwasgood,andhewaseasilyabletohearwhatthetwomenthereweresayingtooneanother.Hehadrecognizedthemimmediately.TheportlyfigureofManuel
Palaiologos,andthegauntoneofShahkulu.Nearthem,agroupofguardsstoodatattention.Ezionotedabroadtunnelleadingoffwestward—possiblyaroutetothewestgateDilarahadshownhimearlier.“Howsoonbeforemysoldiersaretrainedtousethoseguns?”Manuelwas
asking.“Afewweeksatmost,”repliedthedourTürkmeni.Manuellookedthoughtful.“ThemainJanissaryforcewillknowIhave
betrayedthembynow.Butdotheyhavetheresourcesforretribution?”“Doubtful.Thesultan’swarwithSelimcommandsmostoftheirattention.”Manuelbegantolaugh—buthislaughquicklyturnedtocoughingand
gagging.“Ah!”hegasped.“Whatthehellisthatsmell?Havetheventilatorsbeenblocked?”“Apologies,Manuel.Perhapsthewindhaschanged.SomeoftheOttoman
prisonerswetookaweekorsoagoturnedouttobe...sofragile.Wehadtoputthemsomewhereaftertheymetwiththeirunfortunate...accident.”Manuelwasalmostamusedbythisbutalsoworried.“Shahkulu,tryto
moderateyouranger.Iknowthatthesultanhumiliatedyourpeople.Butthereisnoneedtospitonmenwhoarebelowus.”“Humiliatedmypeople!”Shahkulushouted.“Hetriedtocrushusasifwe
weresomanyroaches!ThatiswhyIsidedwithIsmailofPersiaandtookthename‘Shahkulu’—servantoftheShah.Underthatname,IwillprevailagainstwhatevertheSeljukstrytothrowagainsttheTurkmenpeople,andthoseofuswhofollowtheSafavid,andthelawofShia.”“Ofcourse,ofcourse—butnevertheless,getridoftheevidence,”said
Manuel,takinghisleave,ascentedhandkerchiefpressedtohisnose.Shahkulusullenlywatchedhimgo,thensnappedhisfingersattheremaining
bodyguards.“Youthree—gatherthecorpsesanddumpthemoutsideonthewesterndunghill.”Thesergeantoftheguardlookednervous.“Shahkulu,Idon’thavethekeyto
thewestgate,”hestammered.Shahkuluexplodedwithrage.“Thenfindit,idiot!”hebellowed,stormingoff.Leftalone,theguardslookedatoneanother.“Whohasthekey?Anyidea?”saidthesergeant,testily.Hedidn’tlikebeing
calledanidiotinfrontofhismen,andhedidn’tliketheirsmirks,either.“IthinkNikoloshasit,”saidoneofthem.“He’sonleavetoday.”“Thenhe’llbeatthemarketonLevelThree,”putintheothersoldier.“Stuffinghisface,nodoubt,”grousedthefirstman.“Hristémou!I’dliketo
runShahkuluthroughwithaspear!”“Hey,hey!”saidthesergeantseverely.“Keepthattoyourself,edáxi?”Eziobarelyheardthelastwords.Hewasalreadyonhiswaytothemarket,
onefloorbelow.
SIXTY
Apartfromthefactthatitshallwasdeepunderground,themarketwasmuchasanyother—stallssellingmeat,vegetables,spices—whoseodorswereeverywhere,andevendenserthantheywouldhavebeenintheopenair—clothes,shoes—whateverthepeopleneeded.Andtherewerelittletavernasandwineshops.Nearoneofthem,inanopenspace,adrunkenscraphadbrokenout—evidentlyoveralight-skinnedwhore,abonyolderwomanwhosatelegantlyonachairatoneofthewine-shoptables,clearlyenjoyingthespectacle.Acirclehadformedaroundthetwomenwhowerethrowingpunchesatone
another,thebystanderseggingthemonwithraggedshoutsofencouragement.Eziojoinedthecircle’souteredges:“Givehimone!”“Hithim!”“Killthebastard!”“Isthatallyou’vegot?”“Blood!Blood!”“Manglehim!”Amongthewatchers,mostofwhomwereasdrunkasthebrawlers,wasafat,
red-facedsoldierwithascruffybeardandarecedingchin,holdingawineskinandroaringalongwiththerestofthem.Eziohadalreadynoticedtheunclaspedleatherwalletonhisbeltandcouldseethebowofalargeironkeyprotrudingfromit.Heglancedaroundandsawthethreeguardsfromthepaintedhallapproachingthroughthemarketonthefarside.Notimetolose.Hesidleduptothefatsoldierfrombehindandpluckedthe
keyfromthewalletjustashisfellowsoldiershailedhimbyname.Nikoloswouldhavealotofexplainingtodo,thoughtEzio,ashemadehis
waybacktotheSecondLevelandthetunnelfromwhichthestenchhademanated—thetunnelwhich,heguessed,ledtothewestgate.
SIXTY-ONE
“Youtookyourtime,”saidDilarainaharshwhisper,asEziounlockedthewestgatefromtheinsideandletherin.“You’rewelcome,”mutteredEzio,grimly.ButDilarathendidexactlyasEziohadexpected,andretched,herhand
shootingtoherface.“AmanAllahim!Whatisthat?”Eziosteppedbackandindicatedapileofdeadbodies,stackedinabroad
nichejustinsidethedoorway.“Noteveryonewastakenprisoner.”Dilararushedforwardtowardtheheap,butthenstoppedshort,staring.“Poor
men!Godkeepthem!”Hershouldersdroppedasherspiritssank.Sheseemedalittlemorehuman,
underthefiercefaçadeshemaintained.“ThatTürkmenirenegadeShahkuludidthis,Iknow,”shecontinued.Ezionodded.“I’llkillhim!”Andsheranoff.“Wait!”Eziocalledafterher,butitwastoolate.Shewas
alreadygone.Eziosetoffafterherandfoundheratlastinasecludedspotoverlookinga
smallpublicsquare.Heapproachedwithcare.Shehadherbacktohimandwasstaringatsomethinghappeninginthesquare,stillinvisibletohim.“Youaren’tverygoodatcooperation,”hesaidashecameup.Shedidn’tturn.“I’mheretorescuewhatremainsofmymen,”shesaidcoldly.
“Nottomakefriends.”“Youdon’thavetobefriendstocooperate,”saidEzio,drawingcloser.“Butit
wouldhelptoknowwhereyourmenwere,andIcanhelpyoufindthem.”HewasinterruptedbyananguishedscreamandhurrieduptojointheTurkish
spy.Herfacehadhardened.“Rightthere,”shesaid,pointing.Eziofollowedthedirectionofherfingerandsaw,inthesquare,anumberof
Ottomanprisonersseatedontheground,theirhandsbound.Astheywatched,oneofthemwasthrowntothegroundbyByzantineguards.Therewasamakeshiftgallowsnearby,andfromitanotherOttomanhungfromhiswrists,withhisarmsbentbehindhim.NearhimstoodShahkulu,instantlyrecognizable
despitetheexecutioner’smaskhewore.ThemanscreamedasShahkuludeliveredblowafterblowtohisbody.“It’sJanos,”DilarasaidtoEzio,turningtohimatlast.“Wemusthelphim!”Eziolookedcloselyatwhatwasgoingon.“Ihaveagun,butIcan’tuseit,”he
said.“Thebodyarmorhe’swearingistoothickforbullets.”Hepaused.“I’llhavetogetinclose.”“There’slittletime.Thisisn’taninterrogation.ShahkuluistorturingJanosto
death.Andthenthere’llbeanother.Andanother...”Shewincedateachblowandeachscream.TheycouldhearthelaughterandthetauntsofShahkulu’smen.“IthinkIcanseehowwecandothis,”saidEzio.Heunhookedasmokebomb
fromhisbelt.“WhenIthrowthis,yougoaroundtotheright.Seeifyoucanstartcuttingthebondsofyourmenundercoverofthesmokefromthisbomb.”Shenodded.“AndShahkulu?”“Leavehimtome.”“Justmakesureyoufinishtherat.”Eziopulledthepinfromthebomb,waitedamomentforthesmoketostartto
gush,andthrewittowardthegallowswithacarefulaim.TheByzantinesthoughttheyhadmadesureofalltheoppositionandwerenotexpectinganattack.Theyweretakencompletelybysurprise.Intheconfusion,EzioandDilaraboundeddowntheslopeandintothesquare,
splittingtorightandleft.Ezioshotdownthefirstguardtocomeathimandsmashedanother’sjawwiththebraceronhisleftforearm.Thenheunleashedhishidden-bladeandmovedinfasttowardShahkulu,who’ddrawnaheavyscimitarandwasstandinghisground,twistingtotheleftandright,unsureofwheretheattackwouldcomefrom.Themomenthisattentionwasdiverted,Ezioleaptathimandplungedhisbladeintothetopofhischestbetweenthejawlineofthemaskandhisbodyarmor.Darkbloodbubbledfortharoundhisfistashekeptthebladewhereitwas.Shahkulufell,Ezioholdingontohimandfallingwithhim,endingup
kneelingovertheman,whosestruggleswerelosingtheirviolence.Hiseyesclosed.“Menwhomakeafetishoutofmurderdeservenopity,”Eziosaid,hislips
closetotheman’sear.ButthenShahkulu’seyessprangopeninamanicstare,andamailedfistshot
toEzio’sthroat,grippingittightly.Shahkulustartedtolaughcrazily.Ashedidso,thebloodpumpedoutfasterfromhiswound,andEziorammedthebladein
harderandtwisteditviciouslyashedidso.Withalastspasm,ShahkuluthrustEziofromhim,sendinghimsprawlinginthedust.Thenhisbackarchedinhisdeathagony,arattlesoundedinhisthroat,andhefellback,inert.EziopickedhimselfupandcleanedhisbladeonShahkulu’scloak.Dilarahad
alreadycutsomeofhermenfreeandEziowasintimetoseeherthrowherselfonthebackofthelast,fleeingByzantinesurvivor,bringinghimdownandslicinghisthroatopeninonecleanmovement.Shejumpedbackfromthekill,landinglikeacat,andturnedtoherrescuedtroops.EziogaveShahkulu’sbodyakick,tobesure,thistime,thathewasdead.
Dilarawaspullinghermentotheirfeet.“Blessyou,Dilara,”saidJanos,asshecuthimdown.“Canyouwalk?”“Ithinkso.”Eziocameup.“WasyoursthedetachmentthatbroughtthegunsforManuel?”Shenodded.“Thentheymustbedestroyed.”Shenoddedagain.“Butmostofthemdon’tactuallywork.Thegunpowder’s
realenoughthough—wecouldn’tfakethat.”“Bene,”saidEzio.HelookedattheOttomansstandingroundhim.“Get
yourselvesoutofsightuntilyouheartheexplosions,thenrun!”“Explosions?”saidDilara.“Ifyoudothat,allhellwillbreakloose.Youwill
panictheentirecity.”“I’mcountingonthat,”repliedEzio.“Theexplosionswilldestroywhatever
goodgunsthereare,andasforthepanic,itcanonlyhelpus.”Dilaraconsideredthis.“Allright.I’lltakemymentoaplaceofsafety.But
whataboutyou?”“Aftertheexplosionshavegoneoff,I’mgoingafterManuelPalaiologos.”
SIXTY-TWO
Thereweregreatvaultsintheundergroundcity—vastman-madecavernswherethegunpowderandarmscachesforManuel’sarmywerestored.Asystemofblock-and-tacklepulleysystemsfortransportingpowderkegsontautropewaysfromoneplacetoanotherhadbeensetup,and,asEziowatchedfromavantagepointinagalleryhehadreachedontheFifthLevel,hesawgroupsofByzantineciviliansengagedinjustsuchactivity,underthewatchfuleyeofManuel’srenegadetroops.Itwasaperfectopportunity,andhethankedGodthattheirsecuritywassoslack.Theywereobviouslyconfidentthattheywereundernothreatofattack,andhehadmovedtoofasttobeovertakenbythediscoveryofShahkulu’scorpseandthoseofhisfellowtorturers.He’dreplacedhishidden-bladewithhishookbladeandreloadedhispistol.He
gotinamongagroupofworkersandwatchedasabarrelwasmaneuvereddownoneoftheropes,betweentwosetsofblocksandtackle.Aroundthem,hundredsofbarrelswerepiledontopofoneanother,andalongthewalls,woodencratesofmusketswereranged.“Steady,now!Steady!”anoverseerwasshouting.“Thisisgunpowder,not
millet!”“Gotit!”amanoperatingawinchcalledback.Eziosurveyedhissurroundings,planning.Ifhecouldmanagetostartone
explosioninsuchawaythatitwouldleadtoachainreactionalongthethreewarehousevaultsheknewtheretobe...Itmightjustwork.Asherovedbetweenthehalls,blendinginwiththeworkers,helistened
carefullytotheirconversation,totesttheirmood.Andindoingso,hediscoveredthatnotallByzantineswerevillains.Asusual,itwasjusttheoneswhoseegosweretoobig,whoweretoohungryforpower,whoweretoblameforeveryoneelse’smisfortune.“Itcouldbeworse,youknow,”onewomanwassayingtoamalefellow
worker.“Worse?Worsethanthis?”“BettertheturbanoftheTurkthanthetiaraofthePope.AtleasttheOttomans
havesomerespectforourOrthodoxChurch.”
“Shh-h!Ifanyoneheardyou...!”warnedanotherwoman.“She’scrazy!”Themanturnedtothefirstwoman.“Listentoyourself!”“OK,soI’mcrazy.Andifyoupreferforcedlabor,livingundergroundlikea
mole,thenfine!”Themanconsideredthis.“Well,it’scertainlytruethatIdon’twanttogoto
war.Ijustwanttofeedmyfamily.”Anotherman,anoverseerdressedinTemplaruniform,hadoverheardthis,and
putin,notaltogetherunsympathetically:“Noonewantswar,friend—butwhatcanwedo?Lookatus!Lookhowwelive!ThoseTurkstookourland.Doyouthinkweshouldjustrolloverwithoutafight?”“No,no,”saidthefirstmantospeak.“Ijust—Idon’tknow.I’mjusttiredof
this.We’reallsotiredoffighting!”Amentothat,thoughtEzio,asheslippedawaybetweentwotwenty-foot-high
tiersofbarrels.Oncehewasalone,hebroachedabarrelatgroundlevelwiththepointofhisscimitarand,aftercollectingastreamofpowderinaleatherpouch,laidatraildowntheaislebetweentherowsofbarrelstotheentranceofthesecondhall.Hedidthesamethingthere,andinthethirdhall,untilthetrailreachedthearcheddoorleadingoutofit.Thenhewaitedpatientlyuntilalltheordinaryworkershadmovedoutofharm’swayforthenight.Onlytheguardsremained.Eziomadesurehisretreatwasassured,tookupapositionafewyardsfrom
theexit,unleashedhispistol,andfiredintothenearestbarrel.Thenheturnedandran.Thetitanicserialexplosionsthatfollowedrockedthefoundationsofthe
undergroundcitylikeanearthquake.Ceilingscrumbledandfellbehindhimashefled.Everywhere,therewassmoke,dust,rubble,andchaos.
SIXTY-THREE
EzioreachedthegreatchamberontheSecondLevelataboutthesametimeasManuel,whostumbledin,surroundedbyalargeforceofcrackguards.Ezioconcealedhimselfbehindabuttress,watched,andwaited.Hewasgoingtofinishthingstonightifhecould.Andhe’dseenthatManuelwasholdingthemissingMasyafkey—theonetheTemplarshadunearthedbeneaththePalaceofTopkapi.Ifhehadthatwithhim,thenthewould-benextemperorofByzantiummustbeplanninghisescape.“Whatthehellisgoingon?”bellowedManuel,halfinanger,halfinfear.“Sabotage,Manuel,”saidaTemplarcaptainathiselbow.“Youneedtotake
cover.”Acrowdofbawling,panickypeoplehadfilledoneendofthechamberby
then.EziowatchedManuelashestuffedthekeyintoasatchelhehadslungaroundhiscorpulentbody,andelbowedtheTemplarofficeraside.“Getoutofmyway,”hesnapped.Heclamberedupontoapodiumandaddressedthecrowd,whichEziojoined,
edgingthroughthethrong,everclosertohisquarryasManuelspoke.“Citizens!”Manuelsaidinahighvoice.“Soldiers!Composeyourselves.Do
notgiveintofear!WearethetrueshepherdsofConstantinopolis.Wearethelordsofthisland.WeareByzantines!”Hepausedforeffect,butifhe’dhopedforapplause,therewasnone.Soheplowedon.“Kouráyo!Havecourage!Standfast!Donotletanyonebreakyour—”Hebrokeoff,ashenoticedEzioapproaching.Somesixthsensemusthave
triggeredanalarmwithinhim,forhesworesharplytohimselfandjumpednimblyfromthepodium,hurryingawaytowardanexitatthebackofthehall,yellingtohisbodyguardsashedidso,“Stopthatman!Thetalloneinthepeakedhood!Cuthimdown!”Eziothrusthiswaythroughtheconfusedmobandstartedoffinpursuitof
Manuel,dodgingandknockingdownTemplarguardsashedidso.Atlasthewasfreeofthemandriskedaglancebehindhim.Theywereasconfusedasthetownsfolk,lookingineverydirectionbuttheoneinwhichhe’dgone,shoutingchallenges,barkingorders,andrunningoffdeterminedlybeforecheckingthemselves.Manuelhimselfhadscuttledofftoofastforanyofhismentohave
hadtimetofollowhim.OnlyEzio’ssharpeyeshadnotlethimoutofhissight.Forsuchaportlyperson,Manuelcouldcertainlymove.Eziorusheddowna
long,dimlylitcorridor-street,pausingonlytoglancedownsideturningstoassurehimselfthathisquarryhadnotturnedoff;thenhecaughtaglimpse,farupahead,ofashimmeringsilkrobecatchingthetorchlightasManuelscrambledupanarrowstonestairwaycutintotherock,ascendingtotheFirstLevel.Themanwhowouldbekingwasseekingthequickestwayout,hismunitionsgoneandhisarmyincompletedisarray.Eziostormedafterhim.Hecorneredhimatlastinanemptyhouse,carvedoutofthelivingrockonthe
FirstLevel.Manuelturnedtofacehimwithacurioussmileplayingonhislasciviouslips.“AreyouherefortheMasyafkey?”heasked.“Isthatit?Haveyoucometo
robusoftwoyearsofeffort—torecoverwhattheAssassinsthrewaway?”Eziodidnotreplybuteyedhimwarily.Therewasnotellingwhattricksthis
manmightstillhaveuphissleeve.“Youwagealosingbattle,Assassin!”Manuelcontinued,thoughsomethingof
desperationwascreepingintohisvoice.“Ournumbersaregrowing,andourinfluenceisexpanding.Wearehiddeninplainsight!”Eziomadeastepcloser.“Stopandthinkforamoment,”Manuelsaid,holdingupaberingedhand.
“Thinkaboutthelivesyouhavedisruptedtoday—theanarchyyouhavesownhere!You!Youtakeadvantageofapooranddisplacedpeople,usingustofurtheryourownvainquest!Butwefightfordignity,Assassin!Wefighttorestorepeacetothistroubledland.”“Templarsarealwaysquicktotalkofpeace,”Ezioreplied.“Butveryslowto
concedepower.”Manuelmadeadismissivegesture.“Thatisbecausepowerbegetspeace.
Idiot!Itcannothappeninreverse.Thesepeoplewoulddrownwithoutafirmhandtoliftthemupandkeeptheminline!”Eziosmiled.“AndtothinkyouarethemonsterIcameheretokill.”Manuellookedhimintheeye,andEziohadthedisquietingimpressionthat
themanwasresignedtohisfate.Therewasacuriousdignityabouttheplump,dandifiedfigure,withhisflashingjewelsandhisbeautifullytendedmustache.EziounleashedhisbladeandstabbedManueldeepinthechest,findinghimselfhelpingthemandownashesanktohisknees.ButManueldidn’tfall.HesupportedhimselfonthebackofastonebenchandlookedatEziocalmly.When
hespoke,hisvoicesoundedexhausted.“IshouldhavebeenConstantine’ssuccessor.Ihadsomanyplans.Doyou
knowhowlongIwaited?”“Yourdreamdieswithyou,Manuel.Yourempirehasgone.”Thoughclearlyinpain,Manuelmanagedtosoundamused.“Ah,butIamnot
theonlyonewiththisvision,Assassin.ThedreamofourOrderisuniversal.Ottoman,Byzantine...theseareonlylabels,costumesandfa-çades.Beneaththesetrappings,allTemplarsarepartofthesamefamily.”Eziofoundhimselflosingpatience,andhewasawareoftimepassing.Hewas
notoutoftherehimself,yet.“Enoughprattling.IamherefortheMasyafkey.”HestoopedandtookthesatchelManuelstillhadslungroundhisshoulder.
Manuelsuddenlylookedmucholderthanhisfifty-eightyears.“Thentakeit,”hesaidinpainedamusement.“Takeitandseekyourfortune.SeeifyougetwithinahundredleaguesoftheMasyafArchivebeforeoneofusfinishesyouoff.”Thenhiswholebodystiffened,andhestretchedhisarmsasifwakingfrom
sleep,beforepitchingforwardintoablacknesswithoutdimensionandwithoutsound.Eziolookedatthebodyforamoment,thinkinghisownthoughts,thenrifled
swiftlythroughManuel’ssatchel.Hetooknothingbutthekey,whichhetransferredtohisownsidepouch,throwingthesatcheldownbyManuel’sside.Thenheturnedtogo.
SIXTY-FOUR
TheupperlevelsoftheundergroundcityhadbeensealedoffbyTemplarandByzantinetroops,loyaltotheirofficersandunsureofwhatmighthappennext.ItwouldnotbelongbeforeManuel’sbodywasdiscovered,andEziodecidedthathisbest—andperhapshisonly—meansofescapewouldbebywayoftheundergroundriversystemthatoccupiedtheEleventhLevelofthecomplex.ThelowerlevelsoftheDerinkuyuwerelikeahellonearth.Smokeandfumes
filledtheundergroundstreets,andfireshadbrokenoutinpocketsonlevelsbothbelowandabovethewarehouseswhereEziohaddestroyedManuel’sarmoryandmunitionsdump.Fallenceilingsandwallshadblockedmanyroutes,andEziohadtomakefrequentdetours.Severaltimes,ashepassedpilesofrubble,hecouldseeprotrudingfromthedebristhelimbsofthosecrushedbycollapsingstonework.Hetried,andfailed,toclosehismindtotheconsequencesofwhathehaddone.Soldiersandcitizensalikewanderedaboutinakindofdaze,scarvesandhandkerchiefspressedtotheirfaces,eyesstreaming.Ezio,himselffightingtobreatheattimes,doggedlypressedondownwardbyaseriesoframps,corridors,andstairwayscutintotherock,untilhereachedthelowestlevelofall.Itwasclearerhere,andthedanksmellofwaterinaconfinedspacehadbegun
toreachhimevenashearrivedattheNinthLevel.Becauseofthetumultandconfusioncausedbytheexplosions,Eziohadbeen
abletopassthroughthecityunmolested,andhestoodaloneonajettybyanartificialundergroundlake.Farawaytowhatheimaginedmustbethesouth,foritwasdifficulttokeepone’sbearingsdownthere,hesawaglimmeroflightwheretheriverfeedingthelakeledawayfromitagaintowardtheopenair.IthadtobealongwayawayandfardownhillfromthesiteofDerinkuyu,butEziohadnotimetoponderthis,because,settingofffromanotherjettyperhapstwentyyardsdistant,hesawaraft,mannedbyahalfdozenByzantinesailors.ButitwasthepassengerwhoreallycaughtEzio’sattention.Anelegant,beardedmanstandingontheafterdeck.PrinceAhmetOsman.AhmethadseenEzio,too,anddirectedhisoarsmentomaketheirwaytoward
him.Whenhecamewithinspeakingrange,hecalledmockinglytotheAssassin.“PoorManuel.ThelastofthePalaiologi.”
Eziowastoosurprisedtospeakforamoment.Thenhesaid:“Newstravelsfast.”“TheAssassinsaren’ttheonlyoneswithspies.”Heshrugged.“ButIshould
nothaveleftManuelinchargeofourMasyafexpedition.Hewasanarrogantman.Impossibletokeepinline.”“Youdisappointme,Ahmet.WhytheTemplars?”“Well,Ezio—orshouldIkeepupthepretenseandcontinuetocallyou
‘Marcello’?—itislikethis:Iamtiredofallthepointlessbloodfeudsthathavepittedfatheragainstsonandbrotheragainstbrother.Toachievetruepeace,mankindmustthinkandmoveasonebody,withonemastermind.”Hepaused.“ThesecretsintheGrandTemplewillgiveusjustthat.AndAltaïrwillleadustoit.”“Youdeludeyourself!Altaïr’ssecretsarenotforyou!Andyouwillneverfind
theGrandTemple!”“We’llsee.”EzionoticedthatAhmetwaslookingpasthim,and,turning,hesawanumber
ofByzantinetroopsedgingtowardwherehestoodonthejetty.“Inanycase,Iamnotinterestedinarguingmoralsandethicswithyou,
Assassin.IamherefortheMasyafkeys.”EziosmiledmockinglyandproducedthekeyhehadjusttakenfromManuel,
holdingitup.“Doyoumeantosaytherearemorethanjustthisone?”“SoIhaveheard,”repliedAhmet,urbanely.“ButperhapsIshouldask
someonewhomaybeevenbetterinformedthanyou.SofiaSartor.HaveIgotthenameright?”Eziowasimmediatelytroubledthoughhetriednottoletitshow.“Sheknows
nothing!Leaveherbe!”Ahmetsmiled.“Weshallsee.”Hemotionedtohismen,whostartedtosteertheraftaway.“Iwillkillyouifyoutouchher.”“Iknowyou’lltry,mydearEzio.ButIdoubtifyou’llsucceed.”Heraisedhis
voice,addressingthemenonshore.“Killhimnowandgetthekey.Thenbringittomeimmediately.”“Won’tyoustayandwatchtheshow?”saidEzio,coldly.“Ihavefartoomuchrespectformyownsafety,”repliedAhmet.“Iknowyour
reputation,andI’veseenanexampleofyourworkheretoday.Cornered,asyouare,Iimagineyou’redoublydangerous.Besides,Idetestviolence.”Theraftsailedoff,leavingEziotofacetheByzantinetroopsrangedagainst
him.Heconsideredhisoptions.Buttherewerenooptions.Hewasattheendofthejetty,withnomeansofretreat,andtherewasnoway
hecouldmakeanescapebyswimming.Theremusthavebeentwentyorthirtyofthem.Somecarriedmusketsthathadescapedhisdestructionofthewarehouses.Thecaptainofthedetachmentcameclose.“Giveusthekey,kyrie,”hesaidsarcastically.“Idonotbelieveyouhavea
choice.”Musketeersflankinghimraisedtheirweapons.Eziolookedatthem.Thistimeheknewhewasbeaten.Hehadhispistol,
capableoftwoshotsatmost,hishidden-blade,andhisscimitar.Butattheverymomentevenhecouldmakehisquickestmove,themusketswouldsendtheirballsstraightthroughhim.Perhapsthey’dfireanyway.Itwouldbethesimplestwaytogetthekey.Maybehe’dhavetimetohurlitintothelakebeforehefell.EziocouldonlypraythatYusufwouldneverlettheotherfourkeysfallinto
TemplarhandsandthatSofiawouldbesparedneedlesstorture,forhehadkeptherignorantoftheirwhereaboutsforsafety’ssake.Buthehadclearlynotbeencarefulenough.Well,everyone’sroadhadtoendsomewhere.Thecaptainraisedhishand,andthemusketeers’fingerscurledaroundtheir
triggers.
SIXTY-FIVE
Themusketsfired.Eziothrewhimselfflatonthejetty.ArrowsfrombehindandabovethemfellontheByzantinesoldierslikerain.
Inseconds,allPrinceAhmet’ssoldierslaydeadorwoundedbythelake’sedge.OneballhadsearedEzio’shood,butotherwisehewasunscathed,andhe
thankedGodthatagehadn’tslowedhisreactions.Whenhegottohisfeet,itwastoseeDilarastandingattheotherendofthejetty.Fromvantagepointsatthetopofthestairwaythatleddowntoit,hermenweredescending,andthosewho’dalreadyreachedgroundlevelweremovingamongtheByzantines,checkingthedeadandtendingthewounded.“Can’tleaveyoualoneforaminute,”saidDilara.“Soitwouldseem,”saidEzio.“Thankyou.”“Getwhatyoucamefor?”“Yes.”“Thenwe’dbettergetyououtofhere.You’veraisedhell,youknow.”“Lookslikeit.”Sheshookherhead.“It’lltakethemyearstorecoverfromthis.Iftheyrecover
atall.Butthere’senoughkickleftinthemtosendyouflyingiftheyfindyou.Comeon!”Shestartedbackupthestairs.“Wait!ShouldItakeaboatoutofhere?”“Areyoumad?They’llbewaitingforyouwheretherivercomesoutintothe
open.It’sanarrowgorge.You’dbedeadmeatinamoment,andIdon’twanttoseemyworkherewasted.”Eziofollowedherobediently.Theyclimbedbackupthroughseverallevels,thentookastreetwindingaway
tothesouth.Thesmoketherehadclearedsomewhat,andthepeoplewhowereaboutweretoopreoccupiedwithputtingoutfirestopaythemmuchattention.Dilarasetaverybriskpace,and,beforelong,they’darrivedatagatewaysimilartotheoneEziohadopenedonthewestsideofthecity.Dilaraproducedakeyandopenedtheironcladwoodendoor.“I’mimpressed,”saidEzio.“Soyoushouldbe.TelltheminKostantiniyyethattheycanresteasythattheir
peopleherearedoingagoodjob.”Eziosquintedagainstthesunlightthatpouredinthroughthedoor,which
seemedblindingafterthedimnessoftheundergroundcity.Buthesawaroadwindingawaytothesouth,withthedismallittlevillageofNadarimhunchedinitspath.“Yourhorseissaddledandfreshlyfedandwateredinthestablesthere.Food
anddrinkinthesaddlebags.Youcanpickherupwithoutdanger.Thevillagehasbeenliberated,andthey’vealreadystartedwhitewashingthebuildings—Allahknowsitneededcheeringup,andnowit’sbrokenfreeofitsoppressors,”saidDilara,hernostrilsflaringintriumph.“Butgetoutofherenow.Itwon’tbelongbeforenewsreachesAhmetofwhat’shappened.Hewon’tdarecomebackhimself,ofcourse,butyoucanbesurehe’llsendsomeoneafteryou.”“Hashegotanyoneleft?”Dilarasmiled—alittletightly,butshedidsmile.“Goon,go.Youshouldbe
abletomakeNigdebytheendoftheweek.You’llbebackinMersinbythefullmoonifnobodycutsyoudownontheway.”“Aheadofschedule.”“Congratulations.”“Whataboutyou?”“Ourworkhereisn’tfinished.Inanycase,wedon’tmovewithoutadirect
orderfromKostantiniyye.GivemyregardstoTarik.”Eziolookedatheringrimsilenceforamoment,thensaid,“I’lltellthemat
theSublimePortehowmuchtheyowetoyou.”“Youdothat.AndnowI’vegottogetbacktomymenandreorganize.Your
littlefireworksdisplaywreckedourheadquarters,amongotherthings.”Eziowantedtosaysomethingmore,butshehadalreadygone.
SIXTY-SIX
Thejourneybacktothecoastwasfastandmercifullyuneventful.“You’reearly,”saidPiriReis,whenEzioappearedatthefootofthe
gangplankofthereddhow.“Andit’sgoodthatIam.WemustreturntoKostantiniyyeassoonas
possible.”“Doyouhavethefifthkey?”Eziosmiledandpattedthepouchathisside.“Itiswell,”saidPiri,returninghissmile.“AndManuel?”“Manuelwilltroubleusnomore.”“Betterandbetter.Theywillmakeyouasövalyeatthisrate.”“Butthebattleisfarfromwon.Wemustmakehaste.”“Theshiphastobevictualed,andwemustwaitforafavorabletide.Butwe
candealwithonewhileweattendtheother.”Piriturnedandissuedterseorderstotheship’smaster,whohadjoinedthem.“Thecrewwillhavetoberoundedupaswell.WedidnotexpectyoutofinishyourbusinessatDerinkuyuquitesofast.”“Iwasfortunateinhavingextraordinarilygoodassistance.”“IhaveheardofthechiefofspiesputinplacetherebytheSublimePorte.Her
reputationgoesalwaysbeforeher,”saidPiri.“ThenIhavereasontothanktheOttomangovernment.”“UnderBayezid,theSublimePortehasbecomeamodelofpractical
administration.ItisfortunatethatitcontinuestooperateunhinderedbythesquabblesoftheRoyalFamily.”“Speakingofthem,IthinkwemustkeepacarefuleyeonAhmet,”Eziosaid
quietly.“Ihavediscoveredthathehassomeveryundesirablefriends.”“TheAssassinsshouldnotmeddleinOttomanaffairs.”“ThesefriendsofAhmet’smakethoseaffairsours,too.”Piriraisedaneyebrowbutsaidnomoreonthesubject.“Yourcabinisready
foryou,”hesaid.“Nodoubtyouwillwishtorestuntilwearereadytosail.”
Oncealone,Eziodivestedhimselfofhisequipmentandcleanedandhonedhisarms.Then,whenallwasinreadiness,hesecuredthecabindoor,tookoutthefifthkey,andplaceditonthefoldawaytable,seatinghimselfbeforeit.Hewascurioustoseewhetheritwouldbehaveinthesamewayastheothers.HeneededtoknowwhatmoreofAltaïritmightimpart,especiallyashehadnomeansoftellingwhetherithadperformedanykindofmysticalrevelationtotheTemplarswhohadfirstdiscoveredit.Whatknowledgemightitalreadyhaveimpartedtothem?Orhaditsomepowertoknow,asitwere,whentospeakandwhentobesilent?Hismindwastroubled,too,bythoughtsofSofia,andhewasimpatienttobe
backinConstantinople.Toprotectherandtoensurethesafetyoftheotherfourkeys.Butforthemomenthehadtoforcehimselftobepatient,forhewasatthemercyoftheseaandthewind.Thiskeywassimilartotheothers—theexactdiameterandproportionofits
fellows,decorated,astheywere,withstrange,indecipherablesymbolsandruttedwithprecisebutmysteriousgrooves.Hebracedhimselfandreachedouttotouchit.Itdidnotdisappointhim.Soon,thesoftlightofthecabinseemedtosinkintofurthergloom,and,bycontrast,theglowthatbegantoemanatefromtheobsidiandiscgrewgreaterandgreater...
SIXTY-SEVEN
Ashewasdrawnintothescene—atonewithit,andyetnotpartofitatall,EzioknewthattenmoreyearshadpassedsincelasthewasatMasyaf.Hewatchedand,ashewatched,waslostintheeventsthatunfolded...ThemenstoodinthesunlitinnerbaileyofMasyaf,undertheshadeofa
spreadingcinnamontreeofgreatage.Altaïr,hisskinlikepaperandhisgauntframesoshroudedinhisclothesthat
onlyhisfaceandhislong,palehandswerevisible,stoodwithtwostockyVenetiansintheirearlythirties.Theolderofthetwoworeacrestonhissleeve—ablueshieldonwhich,inyellow,wasajugsurmountedbyasinglechevron,overwhichthreepentanglestarsweresetinarow,thewholetoppedbyasilverhelm.Alittlewaybeyondwheretheywerestanding,alargenumberofAssassinwarriorswereintheprocessofpreparingforbattle.TheMentortouchedtheman’ssleeveinafamiliar,friendlyway.His
movementswereperformedinthecarefulandprecisemanneroftheveryold,buttherewasnothingofthefeeblenessyoumightexpectinamanofninety-onewinters,especiallyonefromwhomlifehadexactedsomuch.“Niccolò,”saidAltaïr.“WehavelongheldthePolofamily—youandyourbrotherhere—closetoourhearts,thoughourtimespenttogetherwas,Iknow,briefenough.ButIhavefaiththatthisCodex,whichInowplaceinyourhands,willanswerthemanyquestionsyouhaveyettoask.”Altaïrgesturedtoanaide,whosteppedforwardtoplacealeather-bound
volumeinNiccolòPolo’shands.“Altaïr,”saidtheItalian.“Thisgiftis...invaluable.Grazie.”Altaïrnoddedinacknowledgmentastheaidehandedhimasmallbag.“So,”
hesaid,turningbacktotheelderPolobrother,“wherewillyougonext?”“MaffeoandIwillreturntoConstantinopleforatime.Weintendtoestablish
aguildtherebeforereturningtoVenice.”Altaïrsmiled.“YoursonMarcowillbeeagertohearhisfather’swildstories.”“Atthree,heisalittleyoungforsuchtales.Butonedaysoon,indeed,hewill
hearthem.”TheywereinterruptedbythearrivalofDarim,whocamerushingthroughthe
innergatetowardthem.“Father!AvanguardofHulagu’sMongolshasbrokenthrough!Thevillageis
threatened!”Sosoon?Altaïrstiffened.HistonewhenhespokeagaintoNiccolòwas
urgent.“Niccolò—yourcargoandprovisionsarewaitingforyoubythevillagegate.Wewillescortyouthere.Thenyoumustmakeallspeed.”“Thankyou,Mentor.”AltaïrthenturnedtotwoAssassinswhohaddetachedthemselvesfromthe
largergroup,allnowinfullreadinessforthebattleaheadandalreadyridingout.“Preparethecatapults,”heordered,“andwatchformysignal.”Theybowedtheirassentandranofftodoashebid.“Stayclose,”AltaïrcommandedthePolobrothers.“Wemustmakeourwaytothevillageimmediately,Father,”Darimsaid.“I
thinkyouhadbetterremainwithNiccolòandMaffeo.Iwillclearthepathahead.”“Takecare,Darim.Andkeepaneyeonthetrebuchets.”Altaïrlookedoverto
wherethemassivesling-mountedcatapultswerebeingpulledintoplacebytheircrews.Darimsmiled.“Iftheyhitme,theywillhitadozenMongolsatthesame
time.”“KhanHulaguisnotanenemytobetrifledwith.”“Wearereadyforhim.”Altaïrturnedtohisguests.“Come,”hesaid.Theymountedthehorsesthathadbeenreadiedforthemandrodeoutofthe
fortressataneasypace,takingaroutewellclearofthemainbattle,whichhadbeenjoinedontheslopesofthenearbyfoothills.“Willyouholdthem?”askedNiccolò,unabletodisguisethenervousnessin
hisvoice.“Foraslongasnecessary,”Altaïrreassuredhim,calmly.“Ienvyyouyour
journey,”hecontinued.“Byzantiumisasplendidcity.”Niccolòsmiled—abittightly,forhewasmorethanalittleawareofthedanger
theywerein,howeverlittlemindAltaïrseemedtobemakingofit.Buthe’dbeenintoughcornersbefore,andheknewwhatAltaïrwastryingtodo—makelightofit.Heplayedthegame:“Youprefertheancientname,Isee.Haveyoueverbeenthere?”“Longago.WhenyouVenetiansdivertedtheFrankishCrusaderstoattackit
insteadofJerusalem.”
“ConstantinoplewasVenice’sgreatesttraderivalthen.Itwasagreatcoup.”“ItopenedEuropetotheeastinmorewaysthanone.”“TheMongolswillnevergetthatfar,”saidNiccolò,buthisvoicewas
nervous.Altaïrdidn’tpickhimuponthat.Instead,hesaid,“Thatlittleconflictin1204
preventedmefrombringingtheCreedtoEurope.”“Well,withluck—andpatience—wewillfinishwhatyoustarted.”“Ifyouhavethechance,theviewfromthetopofHaghiaSofiaisthebestin
thecity.”“Howdoesonegettothetop?”Altaïrsmiled.“Withtrainingandpatience.”Hepaused.“Itakeitthat,when
yougetawayfromhere,youwon’ttrytheoverlandroutethere?Thatyou’llbesailingtoByzantium?”“Yes—asthesayinggoes.We’llridetoLatakiaandgetashipthere.Theroads
inAnatoliaarefoggedbymemoriesoftheCrusades.”“Ah,”saidAltaïr,“thedeepestpassionscanbethemostdeadly.”“Dovisitusifyouareable,Altaïr.Wewillhaveplentyofspaceforyouand
yourentourage.”“No,”saidAltaïr.“Thankyou,butthatisnocountryforoldmen,Niccolò.I
willstayhere,asIalwaysmustnow.”“Well,shouldyouchangeyoumind,ourdoorisalwaysopen.”Altaïrwaswatchingthebattle.Thetrebuchetshadbeenbroughtintoplayand
foundtheirrange.ThestonestheywerehurlingintotheMongolrankswerewreakinghavoc.AriderdetachedhimselffromthemainbodyofAssassincavalryandcame
towardthematagallop.ItwasDarim.“Wewillrestbrieflyatthevillage,”saidAltaïrtohimasherodeup.“You
seemtohavetheenemyincheck.”“Butforhowlong,Father?”“Ihaveeveryfaithinyou.Afterall,youarenotaboyanylonger.”“Iamsixty-twoyearsold.”“Youmakemefeelquiteancient,”Altaïrjoked.ButDarimcouldseethe
palloronhischeeksandrealizedhowtiredhisfatherreallywas.“Ofcourse,wewillrest,andseeourfriendsoffproperly.”Theyroderoundtothevillagestables,andthePolobrothersmadehasteto
transfertheirbelongingstothepackhorsesprovidedforthem,togetherwiththetwofreshmountsfortheirjourneywestwardtothecoast.Altaïr,finallyableto
rest,slumpedalittleandleanedagainstDarimforsupport.“Father—areyouhurt?”askedDariminavoiceofconcern.Heescortedhimtoabenchunderatree.“Givemeamoment,”pantedAltaïr,reluctanttogiveintothepainhefelt.He
satheavilyandtookabreath,lookingbacktothecastle.Anagedman,hethought,wasnothingbutapaltrything,likeatatteredcloakuponastick;buthehadatleastlethissoulclapitshandsandsing.“Theendofanera,”hewhispered.Helookedathisson,andsmiled.Thenhetookthebagtheaidehadhandedhimearlierandremovedits
contents.Fiveobsidiandiscs,intricatelycarved.Hestackedthemneatly.“WhenIwasveryyoung,”hesaid,“IwasfoolishenoughtobelievethatourCreedwouldbringanendtotheseconflicts.”Hepaused.“IfonlyIhadpossessedthehumilitytosaytomyself,Ihavedoneenoughforonelife.Ihavedonemypart.”Withaneffort,herosetohisfeet.“Thenagain,thereisnogreaterglorythanfightingtofindthetruth.”Helookedacrossthevillage,andbeyondit,tothebattle.NiccolòPolocame
up.“Weareready,”hesaid.“Alastfavor,Niccolò,”saidAltaïr,givinghimthestonediscs.“Takethese
withyouandguardthemwell.Hidethem,ifyoumust.”Niccològavehimaquizzicallook.“Whatarethese—artifacts?”“Theyareindeedartifactsofakind.Theyarekeys,eachoneofthemimbued
withamessage.”Niccolòexaminedoneclosely.Hewaspuzzled.“Amessage—forwhom?”Altaïrtookthekeyinhishand.“IwishIknew...”Heraisedthekeyhigh.Itbegantoglow.Heclosedhiseyes,lostin
concentration.
SIXTY-EIGHT
Eziooncemorebecameawareofwherehewas.Thelightinthecabinresumeditsnormalcomfortabledimness.Hesmelledthecedarwoodofitswallsandfittings,sawthedustmotesinthesunlightcomingthroughtheporthole,andheardthesoundsofrunningfeetonthedecks,thecriesofthesailors,andthecreakoftheyardsasthesailswerehoisted.Theywereunderway.
Outatsea,theyoncesawthesailofaBarbarypirate,whichmadebothEzioandPirithinkoftheiroldfriendAl-Scarab,butthepirateshipstoodoffanddidnotattackthem.Formostofthefifteen-dayvoyagetheywerealoneonthewine-dark,mackerel-crowdedwater,andEziospenthistimevainlyattemptingtodecipherthesymbolsonthekey,wishingSofiaweretheretohelphim,worryingabouthersafety,andbecomingincreasinglyimpatienttoreachtheirgoal.Butatlast,thedaydawnedwhenthedomes,thecloud-cappedtowers,the
walls,belltowers,andminaretsofConstantinopleappearedlowonthehorizon.“We’llbetherebymidafternoon,”saidPiriReis.“Thesoonerthebetter.”
Theportwasascrowdedasever,thoughitwasahumidandoppressiveday,andsiestatime.Therewasaparticularlydensemobaroundaherald,whostoodonapodiumattheshoreendofthemainquay.HewasattendedbyasquadofJanissariesintheirflowingwhiterobes.Whilethereddhowwasunloading,Eziowalkedovertolistentowhatthemanhadtosay.“CitizensoftheEmpire,andtravelersfromforeignlands,takeheed!Byorder
oftheJanissaries,newrestrictionsnowapplytoallwhotraveltoandfromthecity.IherebygivenoticethatarewardoftenthousandakçewillbegivenwithoutquestiontoanyonewhobringsininformationthatleadstotheimmediatearrestoftheAssassinAuditore,Ezio.”EziolookedbacktoPiriReisandexchangedaglancewithhim.Piricame
overdiscreetly.“Makeyourbestwayoutofhere,”hesaid.“Haveyouyourkeywithyou?”“Yes.”“Thentakeyourweaponsandgo.I’lltakecareoftherestofyourgear.”Noddinghisthanks,Ezioslippeddiscreetlythroughthecrowdandintothe
town.HemadehiswaybyanindirectroutetoSofia’sshop,checkingeverysooftenthathehadnotbeenfollowedorrecognized.Whenhewasclose,hestartedtofeelbothreliefandpleasurableanticipation.Butwhenheturnedthecornerofherstreet,hewasbroughtupshort.Theshopdoorstoodwideopen,asmallcrowdwasgatherednearby,andagroupofYusuf’sAssassins,includingDoganandKasim,stoodonguard.Eziocrossedtothemquickly,histhroatdry.“Whatisgoingon?”heasked
Kasim.“Inside,”saidKasim,tersely.Eziosawthatthereweretearsinhiseyes.Heenteredtheshop.Inside,itlookedmuchasithadbeenwhenhelastleftit,
butonreachingtheinnercourtyard,hisheartallbutstoppedatthesightwhichconfrontedhim.Lyingacrossabench,facedown,layYusuf.Thehiltofadaggerprotruded
betweenhisshoulderblades.“Therewasanotepinnedtohisbackbythedagger,”saidDogan,whohad
followedhimin.It’saddressedtoyou.Hereitis.”HehandedEzioabloodstainedsheetofparchment.“Haveyoureadit?”Dogannodded.“Whendidthishappen?”“Today.Can’thavebeenlongagobecausetheflieshaven’treallygathered
yet.”Ezio,caughtbetweentearsandrage,drewthedaggerfromYusuf’sback.
Therewasnofreshbloodtoflow.“Youhaveearnedyourrest,brother,”hesaid,softly.“RequiescatinPace.”
Thenheunfoldedthesheet.Itsmessage,fromAhmet,wasshort,butitscontentsmadeEzioseethewithrage.MoreAssassinshadenteredthecourtyardnow,andEziolookedfromoneto
theother.“WhereisSofia?”hesaid,throughhisteeth.“Wedon’tknowwherehehastakenher.”“Anyoneelsemissing?”“WecannotfindAzize.”“Brothers!Sisters!ItseemsasifAhmetwishesthewholecitytoriseagainst
uswhileYusuf’smurdererwatchesandwaitsintheArsenal,laughing.Fightwithme,andletusshowhimwhatitmeanstocrosstheAssassins!”
SIXTY-NINE
TheymadetheirwayenmassetotheArsenalandthere,innomoodtotrifle,madeshortandbrutalworkoftheJanissaryguardloyaltoAhmet,whostoodwatch.Ahmetcouldnothavebeenexpectingsuchasuddensurpriseattack,orhehadunderestimatedboththefuryandthestrengthoftheAssassins,whosepowerhadgrownsteadilyunderYusuf’scommand.Eitherthat,orAhmetbelievedhestillheldthetrumpcards,forwhenEzio
corneredhim,heshowedlittlesignofalarm.Ezio,sweptalongbyhisrage,onlymanagedtostophimselffromkillingthe
Ottomanprinceattheverylastmoment,throwinghimtothefloorandgrippinghimbythethroat,butthendrivinghishidden-bladefuriouslyintothetiles,inchesfromAhmet’shead.WithAhmetdead,he’dhavenomeansofrescuingSofia.Thatmuchhadbeenclearfromthenote.Butforaninstant,bloodhadcloudedEzio’sjudgment.Hisfacewasclosetotheprince’s.Eziosmelledthescentofvioletsonhis
breath.Ahmetreturnedhislividgazecalmly.“Whereisshe?”Eziodemandedsternly.Ahmetgavealightlaugh.“Suchwrath!”hesaid.“Where—is—she?”“MydearEzio,ifyouthinkyouareinapositiontodictateterms,youmayas
wellkillmenowandbedonewithit.”Eziodidnotreleasehisgripforamoment,nordidheretractthehidden-blade;
butsecondslater,reasongotthebetterofhim,andhestoodup,flexinghiswristsothatthebladeshotbackintoitsharness.Ahmetsatup,rubbinghisneck,butotherwiseremainedwherehewas,still
withalaughinhisvoice.Itwasalmostasiftheprincewereplayinganenjoyablegame,Eziothoughtwithamixtureoffrustrationandcontempt.“Iamsorryithadtocometothis,”saidAhmet.“Twomenwhoshouldbe
friends,quarrelingover—what?Thekeystosomedustyoldarchive.”Hegottohisfeet,dustinghimselfoff,andcontinued:“Webothstrivetoward
thesameend,MesserAuditore.Onlyourmethodsdiffer.Doyounotseethat?”Hepaused.Eziocouldguesswhatwascomingnext.He’dheardtheTemplars’rationaleoftheirdictatorialambitionstoooftenbefore.“Peace.Stability.A
worldwheremenlivewithoutfear.Peopledesirethetruth,yes,butevenwhentheyhaveit,theyrefusetolook.Howdoyoufightthiskindofignorance?”Theprince’svoicehadgrownvehement.Eziowonderedifheactually
believedwhathewasspouting.Hecountered:“Libertycanbemessy,Principe;butitispriceless.”Tohimself,hethought:Tyrannyisalwaysbetterorganizedthanfreedom.“Ofcourse,”Ahmetreplied,drily.“Andwhenthingsfallapart,andthelights
ofcivilizationdim,EzioAuditorecanstandabovethedarkness,andsayproudly:‘IstayedtruetomyCreed.’”Ahmetturnedaway,bringinghimselfundercontrol.“IwillopenAltaïr’sarchive,Iwillpenetratehislibrary,andIwillfindtheGrandTemple.And,withthepowerthatishiddenthere,Iwilldestroythesuperstitionsthatkeepmendivided.”“Notinthislife,Ahmet,”Ezioreplied,evenly.Ahmetsnortedimpatientlyandmadetoleave.Eziodidn’tattempttostophim.
Atthedoor,theprinceturnedtohimoncemore.“BringthekeystotheGalataTower,”hesaid.“Dothis,andSofiaSartorwillbespared.”Hepaused.“Anddonotdelay,Ezio.Mybrother’sarmywillbeherebeforetoolong.Whenitarrives,everythingwillchange.AndIneedtobereadyforthat.”Withthat,Ahmetleft.Eziowatchedhimgo,signalingtohismennottohinder
him.Histhoughtswereinterruptedbyapolitecoughbehindhim.Heturned—and
sawPrinceSuleimanstandingbeforehim.“Howlonghaveyoubeenhere?”hedemanded.“Longenough.Behindthatarras.Iheardyourconversation.Butthen,I’ve
hadmydearunclefollowedcloselyeversincehereturnedfromhislittletripabroad.Infact,I’vebeenkeepinganeyeonhimeversincehetriedtohavemekilled—anattemptyousousefullyfoiledwithyourluteshard.”Hepaused.“Nevertheless,Ineverexpectedtohear...allthis.”“Andwhatdoyouthink?”Suleimanponderedamomentbeforereplying.Thenhesaid,withasigh,“He
isasincereman;butthisTemplarfantasyofhisisdangerous.Itfliesinthefaceofreality.”Hepaused.“Look,Ezio.Ihavenotlivedlong,butIhavelivedlongenoughtoknowthattheworldisatapestryofmanycolorsandpatterns.Ajustleaderwouldcelebratethis,notseektounravelit.”“Hefearsthedisorderthatcomesfromdifferences.”“Thatiswhywemakelawstoliveby—akanunthatappliestoallinequal
measure.”
TheywereinterruptedbythearrivalofapatrolofJanissaryguardstheAssassinsoutsidehadletpass,sincethiscohortwasloyaltoSuleiman.ButwhentheirlieutenantsawEzio,hedrewhisscimitar.“Standback,myprens!”saidtheofficer,makingtoarrestEzio.“Hold,soldier,”saidSuleiman.“Thismanisnotourenemy.”Thelieutenantwaveredforamoment,thenorderedhismenout,mutteringan
apology.SuleimanandEziosmiledatoneanother.“Wehavecomealongwaysincethatfirstvoyage,”saidSuleiman.“Iwasthinking,whatachallengeitwouldbe,tohaveasonlikeyou.”“Youarenotdeadyet,friend.Perhapsyouwillyethaveasonworthyofyou.”Suleimanhadstartedtotakehisleavewhenathoughtstruckhim.“Ezio,I
knowyouwillbeunderextremepressure,but—sparemyuncle,ifyoucan.”“Wouldyourfather?”Suleimandidnothesitate.“Ihadn’tthoughtaboutthat—but,no.”
SEVENTY
EziomadehiswaytotheIstanbulAssassins’headquartersatallpossiblespeed.Oncethere,hetookthefourkeyshe’dalreadyretrievedinthecityandaddedtheonehe’dtakenfromManuelinDerinkuyutotheirnumber.Packingthemsafelyinashouldersatchel,heslungitroundhim.Hestrappedhishookbladetohisrightwristandhispistoltohisleft,and,incaseaquickescapefromthetopoftheTowershouldprovenecessary,placedLeonardo’sparachuteinabackpack.ButbeforehewenttotheTower,therewasaquickdutyhehadtoperform.He
hastenedtotheGalatacemetery,whereYusuf’sbodyhadalreadybeentakenforburial.ItwasDoganwhohadtakenoverasactingcaptainoftheIstanbulAssassins,andhesteppedforwardtogreetEzio.“Mentor.”“Mentor,”saidIrini,comingupinherturntosalutehim.Ezioaddressedthembriefly,standingbythecoffin.“Nowshouldbeatimefor
remembranceandmourning,Iknow.Butourenemiesdonotpermitusthatluxury.”HeturnedtoDogan.“IknowthatYusufthoughthighlyofyou,andIfindnoreasontoquestionhisjudgment.Doyouhaveitinyourhearttoleadthesemenandwomen,andtomaintainthedignityofourBrotherhood,asYusufdidwithsuchpassion?”“Itwouldbeanhonor,”Doganreplied.“Asitwillcontinuetobeanhonortoworkforourcause,andtosupportthe
Creed,”saidEvraniki,whostoodbesidehim.“Bene,”saidEzio.“Iamglad.”Hesteppedbackandlookedoverthe
buildingsthatsurroundedthecemetery,towheretheGalataTowerstood.“Ourenemyisclose,”hecontinued.“Whentheobsequiesaredone,takeupyourpositionsaroundtheTowerandthereawaitmycommand.”Hehurriedaway.ThesoonerSofiawassafe,thebetter.
HecameuponAhmet,flankedbyasingleguard,onarampartneartheTower’sfoot.“Whereisshe?”hedemanded.
Ahmetsmiledthatirritatingsmileofhis,andreplied.“Iadmireyou,Ezio;butyourbloodlustmakesithardformetocallyouafriend.”“Bloodlust?Thatisastrangeinsult,comingfromthemanwhoorderedan
attackonhisownnephew.”Ahmetlostsomeofhissangfroid.“Hewastobekidnapped,Assassin;not
killed.”“Isee.KidnappedbytheByzantines,sothathisunclecouldrescuehim,and
beheraldedahero.Wasthattheplan?”Ahmetshrugged.“Moreorless.”Thenhenodded.AtoncehalfadozenTemplarsoldiersappearedfrom
nowhereandsurroundedEzio.“Now,MesserAuditore—thekeys,ifyouplease.”Ahmetextendedhishand.ButEziomadeasignalofhisown.BehindthesemicircleofTemplars,alarger
numberofAssassinsmaterialized,scimitarsintheirhands.“Thegirlfirst,”saidEzioinacoldvoice.Ahmetchuckled.“She’sallyours.”Hemadeagestureskyward.Eziofollowedthedirectionofhisarmandsaw,
atopthetower,awomanstandingnexttoaguard,whowasclearlypoisedtothrowherovertheedge.Thewomanwaswearingagreendress,butherheadwascoveredinaburlapsack.Shewasboundhandandfoot.“Sofia!”Eziogaspedinvoluntarily.“Tellyourmentobackoff!”snappedAhmet.Fuming,EziosignaledtheAssassinstodoso.ThenhethrewAhmetthe
satchelcontainingthekeys.Hecaughtitadroitlyandcheckeditscontents.Thenhegrinned.“AsIsaid,she’sallyours!”Withthat,hedisappearedfromtherampart,hismenfollowing.Heboardeda
waitingcarriage,whichspedoffthroughthecity,headingtowardtheNorthGate.Eziohadnotimetowatchhimgo.HetookarunningjumpattheTowerand
beganhisascent.Anxietyandangerspeededhim,andinamatterofminuteshewasonthe
topmostbattlement,atthesideofthewoman.Theguardbackedaway,towardthestairwaywhichleddownward.Ezioleaptforward,wrenchedthewomanbackfromtheedgeoftheTower,
andpulledthebagfromherhead.ItwasAzize!
She’dbeengaggedtostophercryingoutanywarning,andnowEziotorethescarfawayfromhermouth.“Tesekkür,Mentor.Çoktesekkürederim!”shegasped.Theguardcackledandrushedawaydownthestairs.Hewouldmeetagrim
receptionatthebottom.EziowasintheprocessoffreeingAzizefromherbondswhenhewas
interruptedbyawoman’sscream.Turningtolook,hesaw,onanotherbattlement,notfardistant,thatatemporarygallowshadbeenerected.Onthescaffold,aropealreadyroundherneck,stoodSofia,poisedonastool.Ashewatched,aByzantinesoldierreachedupandtightenedthenoosewithroughhands.EziogaugedthedistancebetweenthetopoftheGalataTowerandthe
battlementhehadtoreach.LeavingAzizetofreeherselffromtherestofherbonds,heunslunghisbackpackandswiftlyassembledtheparachute.Amatterofsecondslaterhewasflyingthroughtheair,guidingthechutewithhisweighttowardthescaffold,wheretheByzantineshadkickedthestoolfrombeneathSofia’sfeetandtiedofftherope.Stillairborne,heunleashedhishookbladeandusedittoslicethroughthetautropeinchesaboveSofia’shead.Helandedaninstantlaterandcaughtherfallingbodyinhisarms.Utteringcurses,theByzantineguardsmadeoff.Assassinswereracing
throughthestreetsbetweentheGalataTowerandthisbattlement,butEziocouldseeByzantinescomingtowardthemtoblocktheirapproach.Hewouldhavetoactalone.ButfirstheturnedtoSofia,pullingtheropefromherneckwithfrantichands,
feelingherbreastriseandfallagainsthisown.“Areyouhurt?”heasked,urgently.Shecoughedandchoked,gettingherbreathback.“No,nothurt.Butvery
confused.”“Ididn’tmeantodragyouintothis.Iamsorry.”“Youaren’tresponsibleforothermen’sactions,”shesaid,hoarsely.Hegaveheramomenttorecoverandlookedather.Thatshecouldbeso
rationalatsuchamoment...!“Allthiswillbe...behindus,soon.ButfirstImustrecoverwhattheyhavetaken.Itisofprimalimportance!”“Idon’tunderstandwhat’shappening,Ezio.Whoarethesemen?”Shewasinterruptedbyacannon’sblast.Momentslater,thebattlementthey
wereonshookwiththeimpactofatwenty-poundball.Sofiawasknockedtothegroundasshatteredstoneworkflew.
Eziopulledhertoherfeetandscannedtheareabeneaththem.HiseyelitonanemptycarriageguardedbytworegularOttomantroops,whohadtakencoverimmediatelywhenthegunfirestarted.Hegaugedthedistanceagain.Wouldtheparachutetakebothherweightand
his?He’dhavetoriskit.“Come!”hesaid,takingherinhisarmstightlyandleapingfromthe
battlement.Foraterriblemoment,itlookedasiftheparachutewouldsnagonthe
crenellations,butitjustclearedthem,andtheydropped—veryfast,butstillslowlyenoughtomakeasafelandingnearthecarriage.Eziofoldedthechuteandstuffeditintohispack,notbotheringtounclipit,andthetwoofthemmadeadashforthecarriage.EziohurledSofiaontothedriver’sseat,smackedoneofthehorse’sflanks,andleaptonafterher.Heseizedthereinsanddroveawayatbreakneckspeed,theOttomanguardsshoutingvainlyforhimtostopastheypursuedonfoot.Eziodrovehard,headingthroughtheGalataDistrictnorth,andoutofthecity.
SEVENTY-ONE
Theywerenotfarintothecountrysidewhen,ashe’dhoped,EziosawAhmet’scarriagecareeringalongtheroadaheadofthem.“Isthatwhoyou’reafter?”saidSofia,breathlessly.Eziocrouchedforwardoverthereins.“That’shim.We’regainingonthem!
Hangon!”Ahmethadseenthem,too,andleanedoutofhiswindow,shouting.“Well,
well!Youhavecometoseemeoff,haveyou?”Thetwomenpostedonthebackouterseatofhiscarriagehadturnedround,
tryingtosteadythemselvesastheyaimedcrossbowsatEzioandSofia.“Takethemdown!”orderedAhmet.“NOW!”ButEziourgedhishorsesforwardandsoondrewabreastofAhmet’scarriage.
Inresponse,Ahmet’scoachmanswervedsothathecrashedintohispursuer.Neithervehiclecapsized,butEzioandSofiawereflungbrutallysideways.Sofiamanagedtohangontothesideoftheseat,butEziowasthrownclear,havingonlyjusttimetoseizeabaggageropethatwasattachedtothetopofthecarriage.Hefelthimselfcrashontotheroadway,thenhewasbeingdraggedalongbehindhisowncoach,nowoutofcontrol,thoughSofiahadcaughtthereinsandstrovetopullthehorsesbackfromtheirfranticgallop.Thisisbecomingahabit,thoughtEziogrimlytohimself,andhetriedtohaul
himselfuptherope.Butthecarriagetookaturn,andhewasthrownviolentlyoffthetrack,narrowlymissingagnarledtreebythewayside.Heretainedhisgrip,however,butrealizedhecouldgetnofartheruptheropeatthatspeed.Grittinghisteethandholdingonwithonehand,hereachedbackwiththe
othertohispackandpulledouttheparachute.Theforceoftheairdrivingpastthemblewitopen,andtheclipthatheldittohispackheld.Eziofelthimselfbeingliftedaloft,sailingbehindthecarriage,whichhad
fallenagaintotherearofAhmet’s,nowacceleratingawayfromthem.ButEziofounditeasiertomaneuverhimselfdowntheropeeventhoughitwasastruggleagainstthepoweroftheflyingwind.Atlast,whenhewascloseenough,heunleashedhishookbladeand,reachingupbehindhim,cuttheparachutefree,landingwithacrashintheseatnexttoSofia.“Jesusreallymustsmileonyou,”shesaid.
“You’vebroughtthehorsesundercontrol—fewpeoplewouldhavebeenabletodothat,”Ezioreplied,catchinghisbreath.“Perhapshesmilesonyou,too.”Henoticedbloodonherdress.“Areyouhurt?”“Ascratch.WhenIhitthesideoftheseat.”“Staystrong!”“I’mdoingmybest!”“Doyouwantmetotakethereins?”“Idaren’tletgoofthem!”TheyweregainingonAhmetagain.“Yourdeterminationwouldbecharming—ifitwerenotalsosoinfuriating!”
heyelledatthem.Evidently,hehadlostnoneofhisurbanitythroughtheperilsofthechase.Theywerehammeringtowardavillagewhere,astheycouldsee,aplatoonof
Ottomantroopswasstationed,guardingtheroadtothecity.Theyhadabarrierinplaceacrossthethoroughfare,butitsarmwasraised.“Stopthem!”Ahmetroaredashiscarriagepassedthebewilderedsoldiers
“Theyaretryingtoassassinateyourprince!”Thesoldiershurriedtolowerthebarrier’sarmasSofiachargedtowardthem,
smashingthroughthebarrierandscatteringsoldierslikechickensinherwake.“Sorry!”shecried,thenproceededtoknockdownawholerowofmarket
stallsliningthemainstreet.“Oh!”shecalled.“Forgiveme!”“Sofia,youmustbecareful,”Eziosaid.“Idon’twantonesinglecrackoutofyouaboutwomendrivers,”shesnapped
back,herteethbaredastheircarriageclippedoneoftwopolessupportingabanneracrossthestreet,bringingitdownontheheadsoftheinfuriatedvillagersstormingintheirwake.“Whatareyoudoing?”saidEzio,hisfacewhite.“WhatdoyouthinkI’mdoing?Keepingusontrack!”Meanwhile,Ahmet’scoachmanhadgainedground,andthefrontcoachwas
flyingoutofthevillageasAhmeturgedhismenon.Lookingback,Eziosawthatacavalrypatrolhadsetoffinpursuitofthem.ThecrossbowmenatthebackofAhmet’scarriagewerebracingthemselvestotrytofireagain,andthistimetheysucceededingettingacoupleofshotsoff.OneboltgrazedSofia’sshoulder.“Aië!”shecried.“Ezio!”“Hangon!”Heranhisfingersovertheslightwound,touchingthesoftskin.
Despiteallthatwasgoingon,hefeltatingleinhisfingertips.Atinglehe’donly
feltoncebefore,duringanexperimentLeonardohadshownhim,whenhisfriendwastinkeringaboutwithsomethinghe’dcalled“electricity.”“It’sagraze,nothingserious.”“It’sonegrazetoomany!Icouldhavebeenkilled!Whathaveyougotme
into?”“Ican’texplainnow!”“Typical!Anyexcuse!”Ezioturnedinhisseatandscannedthecavalrymenridingbehind.“Getridof
them!”Sofiaimploredhim.Heunleashedhispistol,checkedit,andtookcarefulaimatthefrontrider,
bracinghimselfagainstthejoltingandbuckingcarriage.Nowornever!Hetookadeepbreath,andfired.Themanflunguphisarmsashishorseswervedoutofcontrolacrossthepath
ofhisfollowers,andtherewasamightysnarl-upasseveralhorsescrashedintooneanother,stumblingandfalling,andbringingtheirridersdown,evenasthosecomingonfrombehindwereunabletoveer,andcannonedintotheturmoilthemselves.Inthecompletechaosofyellingmen,whinnyinghorses,anddust,thepursuitcametoanabrupthalt.“Gladyou’vemadeyourselfusefulatlast!”saidSofia,astheyspedaway
fromtheconfusionbehindthem.Butlookingahead,Eziocouldseethattheroadledthroughaverynarrowgorgebetweentwohighcliffsthatrearedoneitherside.Ahmet’scarriagejustpassedbetweenthem.Buttheirownvehiclewaswider.
“Toonarrow!”breathedEzio.“Braceyourself!”saidSofia,snappingthereins.Theyflewintothegorgeattopspeed.Thebarerockflashedpastinchesfrom
Ezio’sshoulder.Thentheywereouttheotherside.“Eeah!”Eziogasped.Sofiaflashedhimatriumphantgrin.TheyhadjustcomecloseenoughtohearAhmetcursinghiscrossbowmen,
whohadmanagedtoreloadandfireagainbutwhoseboltsflewwellwide.“Incompetentchildren!”hewashollering.“What’sthematterwithyou?
Wheredidyoulearntofight?”Afteremergingfromthegorge,theroadwoundtothewest,andsoonthe
glitteringwatersoftheBlackSeawereinviewtothenorth,ontheirright.“Shapeuporthrowyourselvesintotheocean!”Ahmetwasbellowing.
“Ohno,”saidEzio,lookingahead.“What?”askedSofia.Thenshesawwhathe’dseen,andinherturn,shesaid,
“Oh,no.”Anothervillage.And,beyondit,anotherOttomanguardpost.Anotherpole
acrosstheroad.“Imustsayyou’vegotthosehorsesunderprettygoodcontrol,”saidEzio,
reloadinghispistolwithdifficultyasthecarriagebuckedandjumped.“Mostpeoplewouldhavelostthembynow,andthey’dhavebolted.Notbadatall—foraVenetian.”“Youshouldseemehandleagondola,”saidSofia.“Well,now’sthetimetoputthemthroughtheirpacesagain,”saidEzio.“Justwatchme.”Itwasmarketdaythere,too,butasthetwocarriagesshottowardthemthe
crowdpartedliketheRedSeadidforMoses.“Sorry!”criedSofiaasafishstallcollapsedinherwake.Thenitwastheturn
ofapotterystand.Shardsfleweverywhere,andtheairturnedbluewiththetrader’soathsandimprecations.Nextthing,alivechickenlandedsquawkinginEzio’slap.“Didwejustbuythis?”heasked.“It’sadrive-through.”“What?”“Nevermind.”ThechickenstruggledoutofEzio’sgrasp,peckinghimforgoodmeasure,and
halfflew,halfscrambledbacktotherelativesafetyoftheground.“Lookout!Upahead!”Ezioshouted.TheguardshadletAhmetthrough,butthey’dgottheirroadblockdown
behindhimthistime,andstoodready,pikesheldouttowardSofia’shorses.Unpleasantlooksofanticipatedtriumphlituptheirmean,swarthyfaces.“It’sridiculous,”saidSofia.“Whatis?”“Well,look—they’vegottheirroadblockinthemiddleoftheroadallright,
butthere’snothingbutbaregroundeithersideofit.Dotheytakeusforfools?”“Perhapstheyarethefools,”saidEzio,amused.ThenhehadtograbholdoftheseatfastasSofiapulledhardontheleftreins
anddraggedthehorsesinatightturn,togalloproundtheroadblock,leavingittotheirright.Thenshehauledhardrightandregainedtheroadthirtyyardspastthesoldiers,someofwhomhurledtheirpikesimpotentlyafterthem.
“Seeanycavalry?”askedSofia.“Notthistime.”“Good.”Shesnappedthereins,andonceagaintheybegantoclosethegap
betweenthemselvesandAhmet.Buttherewasyetanothervillage,asmallone,upahead.“Notagain!”saidSofia.“Iseeit,”saidEzio.“Trytoclosewithhimnow!”Sofiawhippedupthehorses,but,astheyreachedthehamlet,Ahmet’s
coachmancraftilyslowed.Thesoldiersonthebackseathadreplacedtheircrossbowswithshort-poled,vicious-lookinghalberds,whoseaxeheadsgleamedinthesun.Despitehereffortstoslowdown,too,Sofiacouldn’thelpdrawinglevel,andAhmet’scoachmanmanagedtoveerandclipthemagain.Thistime,hesucceededinthrowingtheircarriageoffbalance,anditbegantotopple.ButthecrashhadhadthesameeffectonAhmet’svehicle.Atthemomentofcollision,Eziothrewhimselfoffhisseat,intotheair,and
landedontheroofofAhmet’scoach.Hewhippedoutthehookbladeandswungitviolentlyatthetwosoldierstohisleft,slicingintoeachofthemandbringingthemdownbeforetheycouldbringtheirhalberdsintoplay.Thecoachmanhadspurredhishorsesonagaininanefforttorighthiscarriage,whileSofia’shadalreadycapsizedandcrashedashortwaybehindthem,inacloudofdust.Theywereatthesideofasharpdrop,andAhmet’swheelswentoverit,takinghiscarriagedowninturn.Ezio,thrownclear,staggeredtohisfeetandlookedaround,buttheentire
scenewasobscuredbychokingdust.Confusedcriescamefromsomewhere—probablythelocalinhabitants,forasthedustbegantoclear,Eziocouldseethecoachman’sbodylyingproneamongsomerocks.TherewasnosignofAhmet.OrSofia.Vainly,Eziocalledhername.
SEVENTY-TWO
Whenthedusthadsettledcompletely,Eziowasabletogethisbearings.Thestartledvillagersstoodalittlewayoff,eyeingeachotheruncertainlyatthesceneofthecrash.Ezio’sbalefulglarewasenoughtokeepthematbay,butheknewhe’dhavetoworkfast.Itwouldn’tbelongbeforetheOttomantroopsleftintheirwakewouldregroupandfollow.Hesurveyedthescene.Ahmetlayonhisbacksomedozenfeetfromthe
wreck.Hewasgroaning,clearlyingreatpain.Thesatchelcontainingthekeyslaynearby.Then,toEzio’sintenserelief,Sofiaappearedfrombehindapatchofshrubbery.Shewasbruisedandshakenbutotherwiseunhurt.Theyexchangedareassuringlook,asAhmet,withaneffort,rolledhimselfontohisstomachandpushedhimselfup.Ezioscoopedupthesatchelandopenedit.Thekeyswereundamaged.Eziolookedatthefallenprince.“So—whatnow,Ezio?Howdoesthisend?”Ahmetsaid,catchinghisbreath
inpainashespoke.SofiacameupbehindEzioandputahandonhisshoulder.“Iamwonderingthatmyself,”EziotoldAhmet.Ahmetbegantolaugh,andcouldn’tstop,eventhoughitclearlyhurthimtodo
so.Hemanagedtostruggletohisknees.“Well,ifyouhappentofindtheanswer...”Outofnowhere,halfadozenByzantinetroopsappeared.Theywereheavily
armedandtookupprotectivepositionsaroundtheprince.“...doletusknow!”Eziogrimaced,drawinghisswordandsignalingSofiatostepback.“Youareafool,Ezio.DidyoureallythinkI’dtravelwithoutbackup?”Ahmetwasabouttolaughagainbuthewascutoffbyahailofarrows,
seeminglycomingfromnowhere,whichstruckdownalltheByzantinesinamoment.OnearrowstruckAhmetinthethigh,andhefellback,howlinginpain.Eziowasequallytakenaback.HeknewnoAssassinswereinthevicinity,and
therewasnowaythatanotherDilaracouldhavearrivedtorescuehim.Hewhippedroundtosee,ashortdistanceaway,adozenJanissarycavalry,
fittingfresharrowstotheirbows.Attheirheadwasaregal-lookingmanof
aboutforty-five,dressedinblackandred,withafurcapeandaluxuriantmustache.Hehelduphishand.“Hold!”hecommanded.TheJanissariesloweredtheirbows.TheleaderandtwocaptainsdismountedandmadetheirwaytowardAhmet,
stillwrithingontheground.TheypaidlittleheedtoEzio,whowatchedwarily,unsureofhisnextmove.HeexchangedanotherglancewithSofia,whodrewclosetohimagain.Withasuperhumaneffort,Ahmetstruggledtohisfeet,seizingabroken
branchtosupporthimself.Hedrewhimselfup,butatthesametimegavegroundtothenewarrival.Noticingthefamilyresemblancebetweenthetwomen,Eziobegantoputtwo
andtwotogether.Atthesametime,Ahmetbegantospeak,addressingtheJanissariesinavoicehestruggledtokeepfirmandcommanding:“Soldiers!Selimisnotyourmaster!Youservethesultan!Youcarryouthiscommandalone!Whereishe?Whereisoursultan?”Ahmethadbackedhiswaytoafenceontheedgeofthecliffoverlookingthe
sea,andthere,unabletogoanyfarther,hecollapsedagainstit.Theothermanhadfollowedandstoodoverhim.“Yoursultanstandsbeforeyou,brother,”saidtheman.Heputhishandson
Ahmet’sshouldersandleanedinclose,speakingquietly.“Ourfathermadehischoice.Beforeheabdicated.Itwasthebestthing.”“Whatareyougoingtodo,Selim?”Ahmetbabbled,noticingtheexpression
inhisbrother’seyes.“Ithinkitwillbebesttoremoveallpossibilityoffurtherdissent,don’tyou?”Selim’shandsleapttoAhmet’sthroat,forcinghimbackagainstthefence.“Selim!Stop!Please!”Ahmetcried.Thenhestartedtochoke.SultanSelimOsmanwasindifferenttohisbrother’scries.Infact,theyseemed
tourgehimon.EziosawthathewaspressingdownonAhmetwithfarmoreforcethanwasreallynecessary.Ahmetscrabbledathisbrother’sfaceinavainattempttobeathimoff,andashedidso,thefence,whichhadbeenbucklingalarminglyunderhisweight,finallycrackedandgave.SelimreleasedhisgripattheverymomentthatAhmet,withahollowscreamoffear,fellbackwardoverthecliffanddowntotheblackrockstwohundredfeetbelow.Selimstoodlookingovertheedgeforamoment,hisfaceimpassive.Thenhe
turnedback,andwalkedover,ataneasypace,towhereEzioremainedstanding.“YoumustbetheAssassin,EzioAuditore.”
Ezionodded.“IamSelim,Suleiman’sfather.Hespeaksquitehighlyofyou.”“Heisaremarkableboy,Ekselânslari,withamagnificentmind.”ButSelim’scordialityhadcometoanend.Hisaffabilityhadvanishedashis
eyesnarrowed,andhisfacegrewdark.Eziogotastrongsenseoftheruthlessnessthathadgotthismantothepositionofpowerhenowheld.“Letusbeclear,”saidSelim,hisfaceclosetoEzio’s.“Wereitnotformyson’sendorsement,Iwouldhaveyoukilledwhereyoustand.Wedonotneedtheinfluenceofforeignershere.Leavethislandanddonotreturn.”Unabletorestrainhimself,Eziofeltrageriseinhimatthisinsult.Heclenched
hisfists,somethingthatdidnotgounnoticedbySelim,butinthatmomentSofiasavedhislifebyputtingarestraininghandonhisarm.“Ezio,”shewhispered.“Letitgo.Thisisnotyourfight.”Selimlookedhimintheeyeoncemore—challengingly.Thenheturnedand
walkedbacktowherehiscaptainsandhistroopofcavalrywerewaitingforhim.Momentslater,theyhadmountedandriddenoffinthedirectionof
Constantinople.EzioandSofiawereleftwiththedead,andwiththegaggleofgawpinglocals.“No,itisnotmyfight,”Ezioagreed.“Butwheredoesoneend,andthenext
begin?”
SEVENTY-THREE
EziostoodonceagainatthefootofthegreatfortressofMasyaf.Muchhadhappenedsincehehadlastbeenthere,and,inthewakeofOttoman
conquestsintheregion,thecastlewasdeserted.Asolitaryeagleflewoverhead,buttherewasnosignofanyhumanactivity.Thecastlestoodaloneandsilent,guardingitssecrets.Hestartedupthelong,steeppaththatfollowedtheescarpmentslopingupto
theoutergates.Afterhehadbeenwalkingforsometime,hestoppedandturned,concernedforhiscompanion,whohadfallenalittlewaybehind,outofbreath.Hewaitedforherintheshadeofanancient,scarredtamarind.“Suchaclimb!”pantedSofia,catchingup.Eziosmiled.“Justimagineifyouwereasoldier,burdenedbyasuitofarmor,
ladenwithsupplies.”“Thisistiringenough.Butit’smorefunthansittinginabookshop.Ijusthope
AzizeismanagingOKbackthere.”“Havenofear.Here.”Hepassedherhiswatercanteen.Shedrank,gratefully,thensaid:“Hasitbeendesertedlong?”“TheTemplarscameandtriedtobreakintoitssecretplaces,buttheyfailed.
Justastheyfailed—intheend—tosecurethekeyswhich,together,wouldhavegiventhemaccess.Andnow...”TheyweresilentforamomentasSofiatookinthegrandeurofher
surroundings.“Itissobeautifulhere,”shesaidatlast.“AndthisiswhereyourBrotherhoodbegan?”Eziosighed.“TheOrderbeganthousandsofyearsago,buthere,itwas
reborn.”“Anditslevatricewasthemanyoumentioned—Altaïr?”Ezionodded.“AltaïrIbn-La’Ahad.Hebuiltusup,thensetusfree.”He
paused.“Buthesawthefollyofkeepingacastlelikethis.Ithadbecomeasymbolofarrogance,andabeaconforallourenemies.Intheend,hecametounderstandthatthebestwaytoservejusticewastoliveajustlife.Notabovethepeopleweprotectbutwiththem.”Sofianodded,thensaid,lightly,“Andthemandateforthemenacinghoods—
wasthatAltaïr’sideaaswell?”
Eziolaughedsoftly.“YoumentionedaCreed,earlier,”Sofiawenton.“Whatisit?”Eziopaused.“Altaïrmadeagreat...study,throughoutthelatteryearsofhis
longlife,ofcertain...codes,whichwerevouchsafedhim.Irememberonepassageofhiswritingsbyheart.ShallItellyouit?”“Please.”“Altaïrwrote:Overtime,anysentenceutteredlongandloudenough,becomes
fixed.Provided,ofcourse,thatyoucanoutlastthedissentandsilenceyouropponents.Butshouldyousucceed,andremoveallchallengers,thenwhatremains?Truth!Isittruthinsomeobjectivesense?No.Buthowdoesoneeverachieveanobjectivepointofview?Theansweristhatonedoesn’t.It’sliterally,physicallyimpossible.Toomanyvariables.Toomanyfieldsandformulaetoconsider.TheSocraticmethodunderstoodthis.Itprovidedforanasymptoticapproachtotruth.Thelinenevermeetsthecurveatanyfinitepoint.Buttheverydefinitionoftheasymptoteimpliesaninfinitestruggle.Weinchcloserandclosertoarevelation,butneverreachit.Notever...AndsoIhaverealizedthat,aslongastheTemplarsexist,theywillattempttobendrealitytotheirwill.Theyrecognizethatthereisnosuchthingasanabsolutetruth,or,ifthereis,wearehopelesslyunderequippedtorecognizeit.Andso,initsplace,theyseektocreatetheirownexplanation.ItistheguidingprincipleofwhattheycalltheirNewWorldOrder:toreshapeexistenceintheir‘own’image.It’snotaboutartifacts.It’snotaboutmen.Thesearemerelytools.It’saboutconcepts.Cleverofthem,forhowdoesonewagewaragainstaconcept?Itistheperfectweapon.Itlacksaphysicalformyetcanaltertheworldaroundusinnumerous,oftenviolent,ways.YoucannotkillaCreed.Evenifyoukillallitsadherents,destroyallitswritings—thatprovidesareprieveatbest.Someday,someday,weshallrediscoverit.Reinventit.Ibelievethatevenwe,theAssassins,havesimplyrediscoveredanOrderthatpredatestheOldManoftheMountain...Allknowledgeisachimera.Itallcomesbacktotime.Infinite.Unstoppable.Itbegsthequestion,whathopeisthere?Myansweristhis:Wemustreachaplacewherethatquestionisnolongerrelevant.Thestruggleitselfisasymptotic.Alwaysapproachingaresolutionbutneverreachingit.Thebestwecanhopeforistosmooththelineabit.Bringaboutstabilityandpeace,howevertemporary.Andunderstand,Reader,itwillalwaysandforeverbeonlytemporary.Foraslongaswecontinuetoreproduce,wewillgiverisetodoubtersandchallengers.Menwhowillriseupagainstthestatusquofornootherreason,sometimes,thanthattheyhavenothingbettertodo.ItisMan’snaturetodisagree.Warisbutone
ofthemanywaysinwhichwedoso.IthinkmanyhaveyettounderstandourCreed.Butsuchistheprocess.Tobemystified.Tobefrustrated.Tobeeducated.Tobeenlightened.Andthenatlast,tounderstand.Tobeatpeace.”Eziofellsilent.Thenhesaid:“Doesthatmakesense?”“Grazie.Yes,itdoes.”Shegazedathimashestood,lostinthought,hiseyes
onthefortress.“Doyouregretyourdecision?ToliveasanAssassinforsolong?”Hesighed.“Idonotremembermakinganydecision.Thislife—itchoseme.”“Isee,”shereplied,droppinghereyestotheground.“ForthreedecadesIhaveservedthememoryofmyfatherandmybrothers,
andfoughtforthosewhohavesufferedthepainofinjustice.Idonotregretthoseyears,butnow—”Hetookadeepbreath,asifsomeforcegreaterthanhimselfhadreleasedhimfromitsgrip,andhemovedhisgazefromthecastletotheeagle,stillsoaring,soaring.“Nowitistimetoliveformyself,andletthemgo.Toletgoofallofthis.”Shetookhishand.“Thenletgo,Ezio.Letgo.Youwillnotfallfar.”
SEVENTY-FOUR
Itwaslateintheafternoonwhentheyarrivedattheouterbaileygate.Itstoodopen,andalready,climbingplantswereweavingtheirwayarounditspillars.Thewinchmechanismsabovewerefestoonedwithcreepers.Theycrossedtotheinnerbaileyandthere,too,thegateswereopen,andwithin,thecourtyardshowedsignsofahastydeparture.Ahalf-laden,abandonedsupplywagonstoodnearahuge,deadplanetreeunderwhichabrokenstonebenchrested.Ezioledthewayintothekeepanddownastaircaseintothebowelsofthe
castle,carryingatorchtolightthemasheledthewaydownaseriesofdismalcorridors,until,atlast,theystoodbeforeamassivestonedoormadeofsomesmooth,greenstone.Itssurfacewasbrokenbyfiveslots,arrangedinasemicircleatshoulderheight.Ezioputdownhispackandfromitproducedthefivekeys.Heweighedthefirstoneinhishand.“Theendoftheroad,”hesaid,asmuch
tohimselfastoSofia.“Notquite,”saidSofia.“First,wehavetodiscoverhowtoopenthedoor.”Eziostudiedthekeysandtheslotsintowhichtheymustfit.Symbols
surroundingtheslotsgavehimhisfirstclue.“Theymust—somehow—matchthesymbolsonthekeys,”hesaid,
thoughtfully.“IknowthatAltaïrwouldhavetakeneveryprecautiontosafeguardthisarchive—theremustbeasequence.IfIfailtogetthatright,Ifearthedoormayremainlockedforever.”“Whatdoyouhopetofindbehindit?”Sofiasoundedbreathless,almost—
awed.Ezio’sownvoicehadsunktoawhisper,thoughtherewasnoonebutherto
hearhim.“Knowledge,aboveallelse.Altaïrwasaprofoundmanandaprolificwriter.Hebuiltthisplaceasarepositoryforallhiswisdom.”Helookedather.“Iknowthathesawmanythingsinhislifeandlearnedmanysecrets,bothtroublinganddeep.Heacquiredsuchknowledgeaswoulddrivelessermentodespair.”“Thenisitwisetotapintoit?”“Iamworried,itistrue.Butthen”—hecrackedasmile—“Iamnot,asyou
shouldknowbynow,alesserman.”
“Ezio—alwaysthejoker.”Sofiasmiledback,relievedthatthetensionhadbeenbroken.Heplacedthetorchheheldinasconce,whereitgavethembothenough
illuminationtoreadby.Buthenoticedthatthesymbolsonthedoorhadbeguntoglowwithanindefinablelight,scarcelyperceptible,butclear,andthatthekeysthemselvesglowed,seeminglyinresponse.“Haveacarefullookatthesymbolsonthesekeyswithme.TrytodescribethemoutloudasIlookatthesymbolsonthedoor.”Sheputonherglassesandtookthefirstofthekeyshegaveher.Asshespoke,
hestudiedthemarkingsonthedoorclosely.Thenhegaveagaspofrecognition.“Ofcourse.Altaïrspentmuchtimeinthe
East,andgainedmuchwisdomthere.”Hepaused.“TheChaldeans!”“Youmean—thismighthavesomethingtodowiththestars?”“Yes—theconstellations.AltaïrtraveledinMesopotamia,wherethe
Chaldeanslived—”“Yes,buttheylivedtwothousandyearsago.Wehavebooks—Herodotus,
DiodorosSiculus—thattellustheyweregreatastronomers,butnodetailedknowledgeoftheirwork.”“Altaïrhad—andhehaspasseditonhere,encoded.Wemustapplyourweak
knowledgeofthestarstotheirs.”“Thatisimpossible!Weallknowthattheymanagedtocalculatethelengthof
asolaryeartowithinfourminutes,andthat’sprettyaccurate,buthowtheydiditisanothermatter.”“Theycaredabouttheconstellationsandthemovementoftheheavenly
bodiesthroughthesky.Theythought,bythem,theycouldpredictthefuture.Theybuiltgreatobservatories—”“Thatispurehearsay!”“It’sallwehavetogoon,andlook—lookhere.Don’tyourecognizethat?”Shelookedatasymbolengravedononeofthekeys.“He’smadeitdeliberatelyobscure—butisn’tthat”—Eziopointed—“the
constellationofLeo?”Shepeeredatwhathehadshownher.“Ibelieveitis!”shesaid,lookingup,
excited.“Andhere”—Ezioturnedtothedoorandlookedatthemarkingsneartheslot
hehadjustbeenexamining—“here,ifIamnotmistaken,isadiagramoftheconstellationofCancer.”“ButthatistheconstellationnexttoLeo,isn’tit?Andisn’titalsothesign
whichprecedesLeointheZodiac?”“Whichwasinventedby—”“TheChaldeans!”“Let’sseeifthistheoryholdswater,”saidEzio,lookingatthenextslot.“Here
isAquarius.”“Howapt,”Sofiajoked,butshelookedseriouslyatthekeys.Atlastsheheld
oneup.“AquariusisflankedbyPiscesandCapricorn,”shesaid.“ButtheonethatcomesafterAquariusisPisces.Andhere—Ithink—itis!”“Let’sseeiftheothersworkoutinasimilarway.”Theyworkedbusilyandfound,afteronlyamatteroftenminutesmore,that
theirsuppositionseemedtowork.EachkeyborethesymbolofaconstellationcorrespondingtoasignoftheZodiac,andeachkeysigncorrespondedtoaslotidentifiedwithaconstellationimmediatelyprecedingitintheZodiaccycle.“Quiteaman,yourAltaïr,”saidSofia.“We’renotthereyet,”Ezioreplied.But,carefully,heputthefirstkeyinto
whathehopedwasitscorrespondingslot—anditfit.Asdidtheotherfour.Andthen—itwasalmostananticlimax—slowly,smoothly,andsoundlessly,
thegreendoorsliddownintothestonefloor.Eziostoodintheentrance.Alonghallwayyawnedbeforehim,and,ashe
looked,twotorcheswithin,simultaneouslyandspontaneously,flaredintolife.Hetookonefromitssconceandsteppedforward.Thenhehesitated,and
turnedbacktoSofia.“Youhadbettercomebackoutoftherealive,”shesaid.Eziogaveheramischievoussmileandsqueezedherhandtightly.“Iplanto,”
hesaid.Hemadehiswayforward.Ashedidso,thedoortothevaultslidclosedagain,sofastthatSofiahardly
hadtimetoreact.
SEVENTY-FIVE
Eziowalkedslowlydownthehallway,whichslopedeverdownwardandbroadenedoutasheprogressed.Hescarcelyhadneedofhistorchsincethewallswerelinedwiththem,andtheyflaredalight,bysomemysteriousprocess,ashepassedthem.Buthehadnosenseofunease,ortrepidation.Inacuriousway,hefeltasifhewerecominghome.Asifsomethingwasnearingitscompletion.Atlength,thehallwaydebouchedintoavast,roundchamber,150feetacross
and150feethightothetopofitsdome,likethecircularnaveofsomewondrousbasilica.Inthebodyoftheroomtherewerecasesthatmustoncehavecontainedartifacts;buttheywereempty.Themultiplegalleriesthatranrounditwerelinedwithbookshelfuponbookshelf—everyinchofeverywallwascoveredwiththem.Ezionoticed,tohisastonishment,thateverysingleoneofthemwasempty.Buthehadnotimetoponderthephenomenon,ashiseyewasdrawn
irresistiblytoahugeoakdeskonahighpodiumatthefarendoftheroom,oppositetheentrance.Itwasbrightlylitfromsomewherefarabove,andthelightfellsquarelyonthetallfigureseatedatthedesk.AndEziodidfeelsomethinglikeawe,forinhisheartheknewimmediately
whoitwas.Heapproachedwithreverence,andwhenhedrewnearenoughtotouchthecowledfigureinthechair,hefelltohisknees.Thefigurewasdead—hehadbeendeadalongtime.Butthecloak,andwhite
robes,wereundamagedbythepassageofcenturies,andeveninhisstillness,thedeadmanradiated—something.Somekindofpower—butnoearthlypower.Ezio,havingmadehisobeisance,roseagain.Hedidnotdareliftthecowltoseetheface,buthelookedatthelongbonesoftheskeletalhandsstretchedoutonthesurfaceofthedesk,asifdrawntothem.Onthetable,therewasapen,togetherwithblanksheetsofancientparchmentandadried-upinkwell.Underthefigure’srighthandlayacircularstone—notunlikethekeysofthedoor,butmoredelicatelywrought,andmade,asEziothought,ofthefinestalabasterhehadeverseen.“Nobooks,”saidEziointothesilence.“Noartifacts...Justyou,fratello
mio.”Helaidahanddelicatelyonthedeadman’sshoulder.Theywereinnoway
relatedbyblood,butthetiesoftheBrotherhoodboundthemmorestronglythanthoseoffamilyevercouldhave.“RequiescatinPace,OAltaïr.”Helookeddown,thinkinghehadcaughtamovementoutofthecornerofhis
eye.Buttherewasnothing.ExceptthatthestoneonthedeskwasfreeofthehandthatEziomusthaveimaginedhadcoveredit.Atrickofthelight.Nomore.Ezioknewinstinctivelywhathehadtodo.Hestruckaflinttolightacandle
stumpinastickonthedesktostudythestonemoreclosely.Heputhisownhandoutandpickeditup.Themomenthehaditinhishand,thestonebegantoglow.Heraisedittohisfaceasfamiliarcloudsswirled,engulfinghim...
SEVENTY-SIX
“YousayBaghdadhasbeensacked?”“Yes,Father.KhanHulagu’sMongolshavedriventhroughthecitylikea
conflagration.Noonehasbeenspared.Hesetupawagonwheelandmadethepopulationfilepastit.Anyonewhoseheadcamehigherthanthewheel’shub,hekilled.”“Leavingonlytheyoungandmalleable?”“Indeed.”“Hulaguisnotafool.”“Hehasdestroyedthecity.Burnedallitslibraries.Smashedtheuniversity.
Killedallitsintellectuals.Alongwiththerest.Thecityhasneverseensuchaholocaust.”“Andneverwillagain,Ipray.”“Amentothat,Father.”“Icommendyou,Darim.ItiswellyoutookthedecisiontosailtoAlexandria.
Haveyouseentomybooks?”“Yes,Father—thosewedidnotsendwiththePolobrothers,Ihavealready
senttoLatakiaonwagonsforembarkation.”Altaïrsathunchedbytheopendoorwayofhisgreat,domedlibraryand
archive.Emptynow,sweptclean.Clutchedtohimwasasmallwoodenbox.Darimhadmoresensethantoaskhisfatherwhatitwas.“Good.Verygood,”saidAltaïr.“Butthereisonething—onefundamentalthing—thatIdonotunderstand,”
saidDarim.“Whydidyoubuildsuchavastlibraryandarchive,oversomanydecades,ifyoudidnotintendtokeepyourbooks?”Altaïrwavedaninterruptinghand.“Darim,youknowverywellthatIhave
longoutlivedmytime.Imustsoonleaveonajourneythatrequiresnobaggageatall.Butyouhaveansweredyourownquestion.WhatHulagudidinBaghdad,hewilldohere.Wedrovethemoffonce,buttheywillreturn,andwhentheydo,Masyafmustbeempty.”Darimnoticedthathisfatherhuggedthesmallboxevenmoretightlytohis
chestashespoke,asifprotectingit.HelookedatAltaïr,sofragileastoseemmadeofparchment;but,inside,toughasvellum.
“Isee,”hesaid.“Thisisnolongeralibrarythen—butavault.”Hisfathernoddedgravely.“Itmuststayhidden,Darim.Farfromeagerhands.Atleastuntilithaspassed
onthesecretitcontains.”“Whatsecret?”Altaïrsmiled,androse.“Nevermind.Go,myson.Goandbewithyour
family,andlivewell.”Darimembracedhim.“Allthatisgoodinme,beganwithyou,”hesaid.Theydrewapart.Then,Altaïrsteppedthroughthedoorway.Oncewithin,he
bracedhimself,strainingtopullalargeleverjustinside,upbythelintel.Atlastitmovedand,havingcompleteditsarc,clickedintoplace.Slowly,aheavygreenstonedoorrosefromthefloortoclosetheopening.Fatherandsonwatchedeachotherwordlesslyasthedoorcameup.Darim
triedhardtokeephisself-control,butfinallycouldnotrestrainhistearsasthedoorenvelopedhisfatherinhislivinggrave.Atlasthefoundhimselflookingatwhatwas,toallintentsandpurposes,ablanksurface,onlytheslightchangeofcolordistinguishingdoorfromwalls,thatandthecuriousgroovescutintoit.Beatinghisbreastingrief,Darimturnedandleft.
WhowereThoseWhoCameBefore?thoughtAltaïr,ashemadehiswayunhurriedlydownthelonghallwaythatledtohisgreatdomedchamberunderground.Ashepassedthem,thetorchesonthewallslithisway,fueledbyacombustibleairthatledtothemfromhiddenpipeswithinthewalls,ignitedbysprungflintsthatoperatedashisweighttriggeredcatchesunderthefloor.Theyflaredforminutesbehindhim,thenwentoutagain.WhatbroughtThemhere?WhatdroveThemout?AndwhatofTheirartifacts?
WhatwehavecalledPiecesofEden?Messagesinbottles?Toolsleftbehindtoaidandguideus?OrdowefightforcontroloverTheirrefuse,givingdivinepurposeandmeaningtolittlemorethandiscardedtoys?Heshuffledondownthehall,clutchingthebox,hislegsandarmsachingwith
weariness.Atlasthegainedthegreat,gloomyroom,andcrosseditwithoutceremony
untilhereachedhisdesk.Hereacheditwiththereliefthatadrowningmanfeelswhenhefindsaspartoclingtointhesea.Hesatdown,placingtheboxcarefullybyhim,wellwithinreach,hardly
likingtotakehishandsfromit.Hepulledpaper,pen,andinktowardhim,dippedthepen,butdidnotwrite.Hethoughtinsteadofwhathehadwritten—somethingfromhisjournal.TheAppleismorethanacatalogueofthatwhichprecededus.Withinits
twisting,sparkinginteriorIhavecaughtglimpsesofwhatwillbe.Suchathingshouldnotbepossible.Perhapsitisn’t.Maybeitissimplyasuggestion.Icontemplatetheconsequencesofthesevisions:Aretheyimagesofthingstocome—orsimplythepotentialforwhatmightbe?Canweinfluencetheoutcome?Darewetry?And,insodoing,dowemerelyensurethatwhichwe’veseen?Iamtorn—asalways—betweenactionandinaction—unclearastowhich—ifeither—willmakeadifference.AmIevenmeanttomakeadifference?Still,Ikeepthisjournal.Isthatnotanattempttochange—orguarantee—whatIhaveseen?...Hownaïvetobelievethattheremightbeasingleanswertoeveryquestion.
Everymystery.Thatthereexistsalone,divinelightthatrulesovereverything.Theysayitisalightthatbringstruthandlove.Isayitisalightthatblindsus—andforcesustostumbleaboutinignorance.Ilongforthedaywhenmenwillturnawayfrominvisiblemonsters,andoncemoreembraceamorerationalviewoftheworld.Butthesenewreligionsaresoconvenient—andpromisesuchterriblepunishmentshouldonerejectthem—Iworrythatfearshallkeepusstucktowhatistrulythegreatestlieevertold...Theoldmansatforawhileinsilence,notknowingwhetherhefelthopeor
despair.Perhapshefeltneither.Perhapshehadoutgrown,oroutlived,both.Thesilenceofthegreathall,anditsgloom,protectedhimlikeamother’sarms.Butstillhecouldnotshutouthispast.Hepushedhiswritingmaterialsfromhimanddrewtheboxtohim,placing
bothhandsonit,guardingit—fromwhat?ThenitseemedthatAlMualimstoodbeforehim.HisoldMentor.Hisold
betrayer.Whomhehadatlastexposedanddestroyed.Butwhenthemanspoke,itwaswithmenaceandauthority:“Inmuchwisdomismuchgrief.Andhethatincreasethknowledge,increaseth
sorrow.”Theghostleanedforward,speakingnowinanurgentwhisper,closetoAltaïr’sear.“Destroyit!Destroyitasyousaidyouwould!”“I—Ican’t!”Thenanothervoice.Onewhichcaughtathisheartasheturnedtoit.Al
Mualimhaddisappeared.Butwherewasshe?Hecouldn’tseeher!“Youtreadathinline,Altaïr,”saidMariaThorpe.Thevoicewasyoung,firm.
Asithadbeenwhenhe’dmether,sevendecadesago.“Ihavebeenruledbycuriosity,Maria.Asterribleasthisartifactis,itcontains
wonders.Iwouldliketounderstand,asbestIcan.”“Whatdoesittellyou?Whatdoyousee?”“Strangevisionsandmessages.Ofthosewhocamebefore,oftheirrise,and
theirfall...”“Andwhatofus?Wheredowestand?”“Wearelinksinachain,Maria.”“Butwhathappenstous,Altaïr?Toourfamily?WhatdoestheApplesay?”Altaïrreplied,“Whowerethosewhocamebefore?Whatbroughtthemhere?
Howlongago?”ButhewastalkingmoretohimselfthantoMaria,whobrokeinonhisthoughtsagain:“Getridofthatthing!”“Thisismyduty,Maria,”Altaïrtoldhiswife,sadly.Thenshescreamed,terribly.Andtherattleinherthroatfollowed,asshedied.“Strength.Altaïr.”Awhisper.“Maria!Where...whereareyou?”Tothegreathallhecried:“Whereis
she?”Buttheonlyanswerwashisecho.Thenathirdvoice,itselfdistressed,thoughtryingtocalmhim.“Father—sheisgone.Don’tyouremember?Sheisgone,”Darimsaid.Adespairinghowl:“Whereismywife?”“Ithasbeentwenty-fiveyears,youoldfool!She’sdead!”hissonshoutedat
himangrily.“Leaveme.Leavemetomywork!”Softer,now:“Father—whatisthisplace?Whatisitfor?”“Itisalibrary.Andanarchive.TokeepsafeallthatIhavelearned.Allthat
Theyhaveshownme.”“Whathavetheyshownyou,Father?”Apause.“WhathappenedatAlamut
beforetheMongolscame?Whatdidyoufind?”Andthentherewassilence,andthesilencecoveredAltaïrlikeawarmsky,
andintoithesaid:“Theirpurposeisknowntomenow.Theirsecretsaremine.Theirmotivesare
clear.Butthismessageisnotforme.Itisforanother.”Helookedattheboxonthedeskbeforehim.Ishallnottouchthatwretched
thingagain.SoonIshallpassfromthisworld.Itismytime.Allthehoursofthedayarenowcoloredbythethoughtsandfearsbornofthisrealization.Alltherevelationsthatwereevertobevouchsafedmearedone.Thereisnonextworld.
Norareturntothisone.Itwillsimplybe—done.Forever.Andheopenedthebox.Init,onabedofbrownvelvet,laytheApple.APiece
ofEden.IhaveletitbeknownthatthisApplewasfirsthiddeninCyprus,thenlostat
sea,droppedintheocean...thisApplemustnotbediscovereduntilitistime...Hegazedatitforamoment,thenroseandturnedtoadarkrecessinthewall
behindhim.Hepressedalever,whichopenedaheavydoor,coveringahiddenalcove,inwhichstoodapedestal.AltaïrtooktheApplefromthebox,athingnobiggerthanakickball,andtransferreditquicklytothepedestal.Heworkedfast,beforetemptationcouldworkonhim,andpulledtheleveragain.Thedooroverthealcoveslidshut,snappingintoplacewithfinality.Altaïrknewthattheleverwouldnotoperateagainfortwo-and-a-halfcenturies.Timefortheworldtomoveon,perhaps.Forhim,though,temptationwasover.Hetookhisseatathisdeskagain,andtook,fromadrawer,awhitealabaster
disc.Helitacandlebyhimandtookthediscinbothhands,raisingitclosetohiseyes,andclosingthemandconcentrating,hebegantoimbuethealabasterwithhisthoughts—histestament.Thestoneglowed,lightinguphisfaceforalongtime.Thentheglowfaded,
anditgrewdark.Allgrewdark.Ezioturnedthediscoverandoverinhishandsunderthecandlelight.Howhehadcometolearnwhathenowknew,hehadnoidea.Buthefeltadeepfellowship,akinship,even,withthehuskthatsatathisside.HelookedatAltaïr,incredulous.“Anotherartifact?”hesaid.“Another
Apple?”
SEVENTY-SEVEN
Heknewwhattodo,buthediditalmostasifhewerestillinadream.Heplacedthedisccarefullybackonthedesktopandturnedtothedarkrecessbehindit.Heknewwheretolookforthelever,anditgaveimmediatelywhenhetuggedgentlyatit.Butasthedoorslidopen,hegasped.Ithoughttherewasonlyone.TheoneMachiavelliandIburiedforeverinthevaultunderthechurchofSanNicolainCarcere.Andnow—itstwin!HestudiedtheAppleforamoment.Itwasdarkandcold—lifeless.Buthe
couldfeelhishand,asifindependentofhiswill,reachingoutforit.Withasupremeeffort,hestoppedhimself.“NO!YouwillstayHERE!”Hetookastepback.“Ihaveseenenoughforonelifetime!”Heputhishandonthelever.ButthentheAppleflaredintolife,itslightblindinghim.Hestaggeredback,
turning,tosee,inthecenterofthenow-dazzlingly-litchamber,theworld—theworld!—turninginspace,twentyfeetabovethefloor,agiant,vulgarballofblue,brown,white,andgreen.“NO!”heyelled,hidinghiseyeswithhishands.“Ihavedoneenough!Ihave
livedmylifeasbestIcould,notknowingitspurpose,butdrawnforwardlikeamothtoadistantmoon.Nomore!”Listen.Youareaconduitforamessagethatisnotforyoutounderstand.Eziohadnoideawherethevoicewascomingfrom,orwhoseitwas.Hetook
hishandsfromhiseyesandplacedthemoverhisears,turningtothewall,hisbodywrenchedtoandfroasifhewerebeingbeaten.Andhewaspulledroundtofacetheroom.Swimmingintheair,fillingthe
gaudybrightness,weretrillionsofnumbersandicons,calculationsandformulae,andwordsandletters,somejumbled,somethrowntogethertomakeoccasionalsense,butsplittingagaintogivewaytochaos.Andfromtheirmidstthevoiceofanoldman;oldbecausefromtimetotimeittrembled.Itwasnotwithoutauthority.ItwasthemostpowerfulvoiceEziohadeverheard.Doyouhearme,cipher?Canyouhearme?Andthen—somethinglikeaman,walkingtowardhimasiffromagreat
distance,walkingthroughtheswirlingseaofallthesymbolsManhadeverusedtotrytomakesenseofitall;walkingonair,onwater,butnotonland.ButEzioknewthatthefigurewouldneverbreakfreetoreachhim.Theywereontwosidesofanunbridgeableabyss.Ah.Thereyouare.Thenumbersaroundthefigureshiftedandpulsed.Andstartedtofleefrom
oneanotherwithoutbeingabletogetfree—inakindofnightmarishentropy.Butthefigurebecameclearer.Aman.Tallerandbroaderthanmostmen.EziowasremindedofoneofthestatuesofGreekgodsMichelangelohadshownhimwhentheBorgias’collectionhadbeenseizedbyPopeJulius.Anoldgod,though.ZeusorPoseidon.Afullbeard.Eyesthatshonewithanunearthlywisdom.Aroundhim,thetrailingdigitsandequationsceasedtobattlewithoneanotherandfinallybegantodriftaway,fasterandfaster,untiltheyweregone,andtheworldwasgone,andallthatwasleftwasthis—man.WhatelsewasEziotocallhim?Jupiter.Jupiterismyname.Ithinkyou’vemetmysisters.Eziolookedatthecreaturebutitwaswatchingtheverylasttrailingformulae
astheyscurriedawaythroughtheether.Thevoicewhenitnextspokeseemedoddlyhuman,alittleunsureofitself.Astrangeplace,thisnexusofTime.Iamnotusedtothe...calculations.That
hasalwaysbeenMinerva’sdomain.HelookedatEzioquizzically.Buttherewassomethingelse—profound
sadness,andakindofpaternalpride.Iseeyoustillhavemanyquestions.Whowerewe?Whatbecameofus?What
dowedesireofyou?Jupitersmiled.Youwillhaveyouranswers.OnlylistenandIwilltellyou.Lightslowlydrainedfromtheentireroom,andonceagainaghostly,blue,
revolvingglobecameintoviewdirectlybehindJupiter,andslowlygrewinsizeuntilitoccupiedalmosttheentirechamber.Bothbeforetheend,andafter,wesoughttosavetheworld.Smalldotsbeganappearingonthehuge,revolvingglobe,oneafteranother.Thesemarkwherewebuiltvaultsinwhichtowork,eachdedicatedtoa
differentmannerofsalvation.Eziosawoneofthedotsamongthemanyflashbrightly.Itwasnearthe
easternseaboardofavastcontinenthecouldn’timaginereallyexisted,exceptthatheknewthathisfriendAmerigoVespuccihaddiscoveredacoastlinetherea
decadeearlier,andhehadseentheWaldseemüllermapdepictingallthediscoveredworld.Butallthatthemapshowedwasfarthersouth.Couldtherebemore?Agreatlandthere?Itseemedsounlikely.Theywereplacedundergroundtoavoidthewarthatragedabove,andalsoas
aprecaution,shouldwefailinourefforts.AndEziosawnowthatbeamsoflightwerebeginningtostretchlikelines
acrosstheslowing,spinningglobefromalltheotherpointsmarkedonittotheoneonthestrangenewcontinent,andwentonuntiltheentireworldwascrisscrossedwithafiligreeoflinesoflight.Eachvault’sknowledgewastransmittedtoasingleplace...AndthenEzio’spointofviewseemedtochangeashewatchedthegreat
imageoftheworld;andheseemedtoplummettowardit,downthroughspace,untilitseemedasifhewereabouttocrashintotheground,whichrosetomeethim,comingalarminglyclose.Butthen—thenitwasasifhewereliftedup,atthelastmoment,andwasskimmingalongclosetotheground,thendownagain,downthroughashaftlikeamineshaftuntilheemergedinanimmenseundergroundbuilding,likeatempleorapalacehall.Itwasourduty...mine,andmysisters,MinervaandJuno—tosortand
sampleallthatwascollected.Wechosethosesolutionswhichheldthemostpromise,anddevotedourselvestotestingtheirmerits.And,indeed,nowEziowasinthegreathall,inthemysteriousvaultinthe
mysteriousland—orseemedtobethere—andthere,nearJupiter,stoodMinervaandJuno,whomEziohadindeedencounteredbefore...Sixwetriedinsuccession,eachonemoreencouragingthanthelast.Butnone
worked.Andthen—theworldended.Thelaststatementwasmadeinsosimpleandmatter-of-factatonethatEzio
wastakenabackbyit.HesawMinerva,heavy-hearted,andJuno,angry,lookonasJupiterputintoactionacomplexmechanismthattriggeredthegreatdoorsoftheplacetocloseandsealthemselvesshut.Andthen—Thenagreatwaveofindescribablepowerhittheuppervaultofheavenandlit
uptheskyliketenthousandnorthernlights.Ezioseemedtobestandingamidhundredsofthousandsofpeople,inanelegantcityandalllookingupatthesupernaturaldisplayabovethem.Butthelightbreezethatplayedonthemchanged,fromzephyrtostorm,thentohurricane,withinlessthanaminute.Thepeoplelookedatoneanotherindisbelief,thenpanic,andtheyscurriedawaytosafety.
Thesky,stillablazewithwavesofgreenfire,begantocrackleandsparkwithlightning.Thunderrolledandcrashed,thoughtherewasnotacloudtobeseen,andboltssmashedfromtheheavensontotrees,buildings,andpeoplealike.Debrisflewthroughtheair,destroyingeverythinginitspath.Next,acolossaltremorcausedthegroundtoshudder.Thoseleftintheopen
losttheirfootingandbeforetheycouldrisewerestruckdownbyrocksandstonescarriedlikeballsofpaperbythewind.Theearthshookagain,moreviolentlythistime,andthescreamsandcriesoftheafflictedweredrownedbythecrackoflightningandthedeafeningscreamofthegale.Survivorsintheopenstrovetofindshelter,somefightingtokeeptheirbalancebyclingingtothesidesofwhateverbuildingsstillstood,astheyclawedtheirwayalong.But,amidthegeneraldevastation,greattemplesstoodfirm,untouchedbythe
catastrophearoundthem,bearingtributetothetechnicalingenuityofthosewhohadbuiltthem.Butanothergreattremorrippledtheground,thenanother.Abroadhighwaysplitintwoalongitslength,andpeoplefledfromthegrowingabyssthatcleavedit.Theskybythenwasonfire,arcsoflightningrushingfromonehorizontotheother,andtheupperreachesofthefirmamentseemedabouttoimplode.ThenitappearedtoEziothathesawtheearthfromafaragain,engulfedina
gargantuansolarflare,trappedinawebofgiganticfireballs;then,unthinkably,theworldshiftedfromitsaxis,rollingover.Theelegantcity,therefined,sophisticatedcollectionoftallbuildingsandmanicuredparks,wasrivenwithgapingwoundsastheearthsplitandcrackedunderit,rippingdownpreviouslyuntouchededificesandsmashingthemtopieces.Thefewremainingpeopleintheremainsofthestreetsscreamed,onelastdespairingcryofagony,astheshiftintheearth’spoleslefttheplanet’ssurfacevulnerabletothedeadlyradiationofsolarflares.Thelaststructuresweresweptawaylikehousesofcardsinthewind.Andthen—justassuddenlyasithadstarted—allbecamequiet.Thenorthern
lightsceasedjustasacandle’sflamedieswhenamanblowsitout,and,almostimmediately,thewindcalmed.Butthedevastationwascomplete.Almostnothinghadbeenspared.Firesandsmoke,darknessanddecay,heldillimitabledominionoverall.Throughthemiasma,Jupiter’svoicecametoEzio.Ortosomeonelikehim.
Nothingwascertainanymore:Listen.Youmustgothere.Totheplacewherewelabored...Labored,and
lost.Takemywords.Passthemfromyourheadintoyourhands.Itishowyou
willopentheWay.Butbewarned.Muchstillremainsinflux.AndIdonotknowhowthingswillend—eitherinmytime,oryours.Theduststormswereclearing,themoltenlavawascooling.Timeaccelerated
astinyshootsbrokethroughthegroundandreestablishedthemselves.Theentrancetoanundergroundvaultopened,andpeopleoftheFirstCivilizationemerged,andthey,inturn,begantorebuild.Buttheirnumberswerefewanddidnotincrease.Overmanycenturiestheydiminished,untiltherewereonlyafewhundred
left,thenafewdozen,thennone...Whattheyhadrebuiltwasclaimedbytheconqueringforests.Theirnew
buildingsdisappearedintheirturn,devouredbytime.Alow-hilled,richlyforestedlandscapeenvelopedthosegreatexpansesnotcoveredbyplains.Andthen,people—butdifferentfromtheFirstComers.Humansnow.ThosewhomtheFirstComershadcreatedasslaveswouldnow,free,becometheirheirs.SomeindeedhadbeentakenasloversbytheFirstComers,andfromthemasmalllineofpeoplewithmorethanhumanpowershademerged.Butthetrueinheritorswerethehumans.Thefirstinthisunknownlandwere
menandwomenwithdeeplytannedskinsandlong,straight,blackhair.Proudpeopleswhohuntedstrange,darkbrown,wildcattle,ridingbarebackontoughponies,usingbowsandarrows.Peoplewholivedinseparatetribesandfoughtoneanotherbutwithlittlebloodshed.Thenmorepeoplecame.Palerpeople,whoseclothesweredifferentand
coveredthemmorefully.PeoplewhocameonshipsfromEurope,acrosstheMareOcciden-talis.Peoplewhohunteddowntheothersanddrovethemfromtheirlands,establishinginturntheirownfarms,villages,and,againatlast,townsandcitiestorivalthoseofthelostcivilization,whichhaddisappearedintotheearthmanymillenniabefore.Markthisandremember.Itisneveryourchoicetogiveupthefightforjustice.
Evenwhenitseemsthatitcanneverbewon,thatallhopeislost,thefight,thefightensuresthesurvivalofjustice,thesurvivaloftheworld.Youlivebalancedontheedgeofacliff,youcannothelpthat.Yourjobistoensurethatthebalancenevertipstoofartothewrongside.Andthereisonemorethingyoucandothatwillmakecertainitneverdoes:Youcanlove.Ezioclungtothedesk.Nexttohim,Altaïrstillsatinhischair.Nothinghad
movedonthedesktop,notasheetofparchmenthadstirred,andthestumpofcandleburnedwithasteadylight.Hedidnotknowhowhehadgotfromtherecesstothedesk,butnowhe
retracedthefewsteps.TheApplestillrestedonitspedestalwithinthealcove,coldanddead.Hecouldhardlymakeoutitscontoursinthegloom.Itsdust-coveredbox,henoticed,layonthedesktop.Hegatheredhimselftogetherandcrossedthegreatchamberagain,makingfor
thecorridorthatwouldleadbacktothesunlight,andtoSofia.Butattheentrancetothegreatlibrary,heturnedoncemore.Farawaynow,as
itseemed,helookedforonelasttimeatAltaïr,sittingforeternityintheghostofhislibrary.“Farewell,Mentor,”hesaid.
SEVENTY-EIGHT
Reachingtheouterdoorway,Eziofoundtheleverbythelintelandpulledit.Obediently,thegreendoorsliddownintotheground.AndtherewasSofia,readingabook,waitingforhim.Asheemerged,shesmiledathimandstood,andcametohimandtookhis
hand.“Youcameback,”shesaid,unabletodisguisethesheerreliefinhervoice.“IpromisedIwould.”“Haveyoufoundwhatyousought?”“Ihavefound—enough.”Shehesitated.“Ithought—”“What?”“IthoughtI’dneverseeyouagain.”“Sometimesourworstpremonitionsaretheleastreliable.”Shelookedathim.“Imustbemad.IthinkIlikeyouevenwhenyou’rebeing
pompous.”Shepaused.“Whatdowedonow?”Eziosmiled.“Wegohome,”hesaid.
PARTIII
Eternallight,yousojourninyourselfalone.Alone,youknowyourself.Knowntoyourself,you,knowing,loveandsmileonyourownbeing.
—DANTE,PARADISO
SEVENTY-NINE
EziowasquietformuchofthejourneybacktoConstantinople.Sofia,rememberingSelim’sdirewarning,questionedthewisdomofhisreturningthereatall,buthemerelysaid,“Thereisstillworktobedone.”Shewonderedabouthim—heseemedsowithdrawn,almostill.Butwhenthe
goldendomesandwhiteminaretsonceagainappearedonthenorthernseaboard,hisspiritslifted,andshesawtheoldgleambackinhisdarkgreyeyes.Theyreturnedtohershop.Itwasalmostunrecognizable.Azizehad
modernizedit,andallthebookswererangedneatlyontheirshelves,inimpeccableorder.AzizewasalmostapologeticwhenshehandedSofiabackthekeys,butSofiahadmostlynoticedthattheshopwasfullofcustomers.“Doganwishestoseeyou,Mentor,”AzizesaidasshegreetedEzio.“Andbe
reassured.PrinceSuleimanknowsofyourreturnandhasprovidedyouwithasafe-conduct.Buthisfatherisadamantthatyoushouldnotremainlong.”EzioandSofiaexchangedalook.Theyhadbeentogetherawhile,eversince
shehadinsistedonaccompanyinghimonhisjourneytoMasyaf—arequestwhichhe’dagreedto,tohersurprise,withnoobjectionatall.Indeed,hehadseemedtowelcomeit.WithDogan,EziomadesurethattheTurkishAssassinshadafirmbaseinthe
city,withSuleiman’stacitagreementandunderhisunofficialprotection.TheworkhadalreadystartedinpurgingthecityandtheempireofanylasttraceofrenegadeOttomansandByzantines,nowleaderless,followingthedeathsofAhmetandManuel;andtheJanissaries,underSelim’sironhand,knewnomoredissentwithintheirranks.Therewasnoneedofanysincetheirpreferredprincehadmadehimselftheirsultan.AsfortheTemplars,theirpowerbasesinItalyand,now,intheEast,broken,theyhaddisappeared.ButEzioknewthatthevolcanowasdormant,notextinct.HistroubledthoughtsturnedtotheFarEast—theOrient—andhewonderedwhattheknowledgeimpartedtohimbyJupiterandtheghostlyglobemightmeanfortheundiscoveredcontinents—iftheyexisted—farawayacrossthe
WesternSea.
Dogan,thoughlackingYusuf’sélan,madeupforthisbyhisorganizationalskillsandhiscompletedevotiontotheCreed.HemightmakeaMentoroneday,Eziothought.Buthisownfeelingsseemedtohavebeencutadrift.Henolongerknewwhathebelieved,ifhebelievedinanythingatall,andthis,withoneotherthing,waswhathadpreoccupiedhimduringthelongvoyagehome.Home!Whatcouldhecallhome?Rome?Florence?Hiswork?Buthehadno
realhome,andheknewinhisheartthathisexperienceinAltaïr’shiddenchamberatMasyafhadmarkedtheendofapageinhislife.Hehaddonewhathecould,andhehadachievedpeaceandstability—forthetimebeing—inItalyandintheEast.Couldhenotaffordtospendalittletimeonhimself?Hisdaysweregrowingshort,heknew,buttherewerestillenoughofthemlefttoreapaharvest.Ifhedaredtaketherisk.Eziospenthisfifty-thirdbirthday,Midsummer’sDay,1512,withSofia.ThedayspermittedhimbySelim’svisawerealsogrowingshortinnumber.Hismoodseemedsomber.Theywerebothapprehensive,asifsomegreatweightwerehangingoverthem.InhishonorshehadpreparedacompletelyFlorentinebanquet:salsiccedicinghialeandfettunta,thencarciofinisott’olio,followedbyspaghettialloscoglioandbisteccaallafiorentina;andafterwardagooddrypecorino.Thecakeshemadewasacastagnaccio,andshethrewinsomebruttimabuoniforgoodmeasure.Butthewine,shedecided,shouldcomefromtheVeneto.Itwasallfartoorich,andshe’dmadefartoomuch,andhedidhisbest,but
shecouldseethatfood,evenfoodfromhome,whichhadcostherafortunetoget,wasthelastthingonhismind.“Whatwillyoudo?”sheaskedhim.Hesighed.“GobacktoRome.Myworkhereisdone.”Hepaused.“And
you?”“StayhereIsuppose.GoonasIhavealwaysdone.ThoughAzizeisabetter
booksellerthanIeverwas.”
“Maybeyoushouldtrysomethingnew.”“Idon’tknowifI’ddareto,onmyown.ThisiswhatIknow.Though—”she
brokeoff.“Thoughwhat?”Shelookedathim.“Ihavelearnedthatthereisalifeoutsidebooks.”“Alllifeisoutsidebooks.”“Spokenlikeatruescholar!”“Lifeentersbooks.Itisn’ttheotherwayround.”Sofiastudiedhim.Shewonderedhowmuchlongerhe’dhesitate.Whether
he’devercometothepointatall.Whetherhe’ddare.Whetherheevenwantedto—thoughshetriedtokeepthatthoughtatbay—andwhethershe’ddareprompthim.ThattriptoAdrianopoliswithouthimhadbeenthefirsttimeshe’drealizedwhatwashappeningtoher,andshewasprettysureithadhappenedtohimaswell.Theywerelovers—ofcoursetheywerelovers.Butwhatshereallylongedforhadn’thappenedyet.Theysatathertableforalongtimeinsilence.Averychargedsilence.“Azize,unlikeyou,hasnotsprungbackfromherordealatAhmet’shands,”
saidEzio,finally,andslowly,pouringthembothfreshglassesofSoave.“Shehasaskedmetoaskyouifshemayworkhere.”“Andwhatisyourinterestinthat?”“ThisplacewouldmakeanexcellentintelligencecenterfortheSeljuk
Assassins.”Hecorrectedhimselfhastily.“Asasecondaryfunction,ofcourse,anditwouldgiveAzizeaquieterroleintheOrder.Thatis,ifyou...”“Andwhatwillbecomeofme?”Heswallowedhard.“I—Iwonderedif—”Hewentdownononeknee.Herheartwasgoinglikemad.
EIGHTY
TheydecideditwouldbebesttomarryinVenice.Sofia’sunclewasvicargeneralofSantaMariaGloriosadeiFrariintheSanPolodistrictandhadofferedtoofficiate—assoonasherealizedthatEzio’slatefatherhadbeentheeminentbankerGiovanniAuditore,hehadgiventhemarriagehiswholeheartedblessing.Ezio’sconnectionwithPietroBembodidn’tdoanyharm,either,andthoughLucreziaBorgia’sformerlovercouldn’tattend,beingawayinUrbino,theguestsdidincludeDogeLeonardoLoredanandtheup-and-comingyoungpainterTizianVecelli,who,smittenbySofia’sbeauty,andjealousofDürer’spictureofher,offered,forafriendlyprice,todoadoubleportraitofthemasaweddingtribute.TheAssassinBrotherhoodhadpaidSofiaagenerouspriceforherbookshop,
andunderit,inthecisternEziohaddiscovered,thefivekeysofMasyafwerewalledupandsealed.Azize,thoughsadtoseethemgo,wasalsooverjoyedathernewprofession.TheystayedinVenice,allowingSofiatoacquaintherselfwithherscarcely
knownhomelandandtomakefriendswithhersurvivingrelatives.ButEziobegantogrowrestless.TherehadbeenimpatientlettersfromClaudiainRome.PopeJuliusII,longtheAssassins’protector,wasapproachinghissixty-ninthbirthdayandailing.Thesuccessionwasstillindoubt,andtheBrotherhoodneededEziotheretotakechargeofthingsintheinterimperiodthatwouldfollowJulius’sdeath.ButEzio,thoughworried,stillputoffmakinganyarrangementsfortheir
departure.“Inolongerwishtobepartofthesethings,”hetoldSofiainanswertoher
inquiry.“Ineedtohavetimetothinkformyself,atlast.”“Andtothinkofyourself,perhaps.”“Perhapsthat,too.”“Butstill,youhaveaduty.”“Iknow.”Therewereotherthingsonhismind.TheleaderoftheNorthEuropeanbranch
oftheBrotherhood,DesideriusErasmus,hadwrittentoClaudiafromQueens’CollegeatCambridge,wherethewanderingscholarwasforthepresentliving
andteaching,thattherewasanewlyappointedDoctorinBibleatWittenberg,ayoungmancalledLuther,whosereligiousthinkingmightneedwatching,asitseemedtobeleadingtosomethingveryrevolutionaryindeed—somethingthatmightyetagainthreatenthefragilestabilityofEurope.HetoldSofiaofhisconcern.“WhatisErasmusdoing?”“Hewatches.Hewaits.”“WillyourecruitnewmentotheOrderifthereisashiftawayfromthe
RomanChurchinthenorth?”Eziospreadhishands.“IwillbeadvisedbyDesiderius.”Heshookhishead.
“Everywhere,always,thereisfreshdissentanddivision.”“Isn’tthatafeatureoflife?”Hesmiled.“Perhaps.Andperhapsitisnotmyfightanymore.”“Thatdoesn’tsoundlikeyou.”Shepaused.“Oneday,youwilltellmewhat
reallyhappenedinthatvaultunderMasyaf.”“Oneday.”“Whynottellmenow?”Helookedather.“Iwilltellyouthis.Ihavecometorealizethattheprogress
ofMankindtowardthegoalsofpeaceandunitywillalwaysbeajourney—therewillneverbeanarrival.It’sjustlikethejourneythroughlifeofanymanorwoman.Theendisalwaystheinterruptionofthatjourney.Thereisnoconclusion.Thereisalwaysunfinishedbusiness.”Eziowasholdingabookinhishandsashespoke—Petrarch’sCanzoniere.“It’slikethis,”hecontinued.“Deathdoesn’twaitforyoutofinishabook.”“Thenreadwhatyoucan,whileyoucan.”Withanewdetermination,Eziomadearrangementsforthejourneybackto
Rome.Bythattime,Sofiawaspregnant.
EIGHTY-ONE
“Whattookyousolong?”Claudiasnapped,thenpulledhimtoherandkissedhimhardonbothcheeks.“Fratellomio.You’veputonweight.AllthatVenetianfood.Notgoodforyou.”TheywereintheAssassins’HeadquartersonTiberIsland.Itwaslatein
February.Ezio’sarrivalbackinRomehadcoincidedwiththefuneralofPopeJulius.“Somegoodnews,Ithink,”Claudiawenton.“GiovannidiLorenzodeMedici
isgoingtobeelected.”“Buthe’sonlyadeacon.”“Sincewhenhasthatstoppedanyonefrombecomingpope?”“Well,itwouldbegoodnewsifhegetsit.”“HehasthebackingofalmosttheentireCollegeofCardinals.He’seven
chosenaname—Leo.”“Willherememberme?”“HecouldhardlyforgetthatdaybackintheduomoinFlorencewhenyou
savedhisfather’slife.Andhisown,bytheway.”“Ah,”saidEzio,remembering.“ThePazzi.Itseemslikealongtimeago.”“Itisalongtimeago.ButlittleGiovanniisallgrownupnow—he’sthirty-
eight,wouldyoubelieve?Andatoughcustomer.”“Aslongasheremembershisfriends.”“He’sstrong.That’swhatcounts.Andhewantsusonhisside.”“Ifheisjust,wewillstandbyhim.”“Weneedhimasmuchasheneedsus.”“Thatistrue.”Eziopaused,lookingroundtheoldhall.Somanymemories.
Butitwasalmostasiftheyhadnothingtodowithhimanylonger.“ThereissomethingIneedtodiscusswithyou,sister.”“Yes?”“Thequestionof...mysuccessor.”“AsMentor?Youaregivingup?”Butshedidnotsoundsurprised.“IhavetoldyouthestoryofMasyaf.IhavedoneallIcan.”“Marriagehassoftenedyouup.”“Itdidn’tsoftenyouup,andyou’vedoneittwice.”
“Idoapproveofyourwife,bytheway.EvenifsheisaVenetian.”“Grazie.”“When’sthehappyevent?”“May.”Shesighed.“It’strue.Thisjobwearsoneout.TheBlessedMotherknows,
I’veonlybeendoingitinyoursteadfortwoshortyears,butIhavecometorealizewhatyouhavebeencarryingonyourshouldersforsolong.Buthaveyouthoughtofwhomighttakeonthemantle?”“Yes.”“Machiavelli?”Ezioshookhishead.“Hewouldneveraccept.Heisfartoomuchofathinker
tobealeader.Butthejob—andIsaythisinallmodesty—needsastrongmind.Thereisoneofournumber,nevercalledontoassistusbeforeinanythingbuthisdiplomaticmissions,whomIhavesoundedout,andwho,Ithink,isready.”“Anddoyouthinktheothers—Niccolòhimself,Bartolomeo,Rosa,Paola,and
IlVolpe—willtheyelecthim?”“Ithinkso.”“Whohaveyouinmind?”“LodovicoAriosto.”“Him?”“HewasFerraranambassadortotheVaticantwice.”“AndJuliusnearlyhadhimkilled.”“Thatwasn’thisfault.JuliuswasinconflictwithDukeAlfonsoatthetime.”Claudialookedastonished.“Ezio—haveyoutakenleaveofyoursenses?Do
younotrememberwhoAlfonsoismarriedto?”“Lucrezia—yes.”“LucreziaBorgia.”“She’sleadingaquietlifethesedays.”“TellAlfonsothat!Besides,Ariosto’sasickman—and,bySaintSebastian,
he’saweekendpoet!Ihearhe’sworkingonsometoshaboutSieurRoland.”“Dantewasapoet.Beingapoetdoesn’tautomaticallyemasculateyou,
Claudia.AndLodovicoisonlythirty-eight,he’sgotalltherightcontacts,and,aboveall,he’sloyaltotheCreed.”Claudialookedsullen.“YoumightaswellhaveaskedCastiglione,”she
muttered.“He’saweekendactor.”“Mydecisionistaken,”Eziotoldher,firmly.“Butwewillleaveittothe
AssassinCounciltoratifyit.”
Shewassilentalongtime,thensmiled,andsaid,“It’struethatyouneedarest,Ezio.Perhapswealldo.Butwhatareyourplans?”“I’mnotsure.IthinkI’dliketoshowSofiaFlorence.”Claudialookedsad.“There’snotmuchleftoftheAuditorestheretoshowher.
Annetta’sdead,didyouknow?”“Annetta?When?”“Twoyearsago.IthoughtIwrotetoyouaboutit.”“No.”Theybothfellsilent,thinkingoftheiroldhousekeeper,whohadstayedloyal
andhelpedsavethemaftertheirfamilyandtheirhomeweredestroyedbyTemplaragentsoverthirtyyearsearlier.“Nevertheless,I’mtakingherthere.”“Andwhatwillyoudothere?Willyoustay?”“Sister,Ireallydon’tknow.ButIthought...IfIcanfindtherightplace...”“What?”“Imightgrowalittlewine.”“Youdon’tknowthefirstthingaboutit!”“Icanlearn.”“You—inavineyard!Cuttingbunchesofgrapes!”“AtleastIknowhowtouseablade.”Shelookedscornful.“BrunellodiAuditore,Isuppose!Andwhatelse?
Betweenharvests,Imean.”“Ithought—Imighttrymyhandatabitofwriting.”Claudiaalmostexploded.
EIGHTY-TWO
ButClaudiawouldlatercometolovehervisitstotheestateinthehillsaboveFlorencethatEzioandSofiafound,moreorlessfallingdown,butboughtand,withtheproceedsfromthesaleoftheConstantinoplebookshoptotheAssassins,andEzio’sowncapital,restoredandturnedintoamodest,butquiteprofitable,vineyardwithintwoyears.Eziobecameleanandtanned,woreworkmen’sclothesduringtheday,and
Sofiascoldedhim,tellinghimthathishandsweregettingtoognarledforlovemakingfromworkingonthevines.Butthathadn’tpreventedthemfromproducingFlaviainMay1513,and
Marcelloarrivedayearlater,inOctober.AndClaudialovedhernewnieceandnephewalmostmorethanshethought
possible,thoughshemadequitesure,giventhetwenty-yeardifferenceintheirages,thatsheneverbecameakindofersatzmother-in-lawtoSofia.Sheneverinterfered,andshedisciplinedherselftovisittheAuditoreestatenearFiesolenomorethanhalfthenumberoftimesshewouldhavelikedto.Besides,shehadanewhusbandinRometothinkaboutaswell.ButClaudiacouldn’tlovethechildrenasmuchasEziodid.Inthem,andin
Sofia,Eziohadatlastfoundthereason,whichhehadspentalifetimeseeking.
EIGHTY-THREE
Machiavellihadhadahardtimeofit,politically,andevenspentawhileinprison,butwhenthewhitewaterwaspast,andhewasabletotakeupthereinsofhislifeinFlorenceagain,hewasafrequentvisitortotheVillaAuditore.Eziomissedhimwhenhewasn’tthere,thoughhedidn’ttakekindlytohisold
friend’ssometimesacerbiccommentsonhisfrequently-put-offattemptstowriteamemoir.Theraccoltoof1518hadnotbeengood,andEziohadcaughtsomekindofchestinfection—whichheignored—thathaddraggedonthroughoutthewinter.Earlyoneevening,nearthebeginningofthefollowingspring,Eziosatalone
bythefireinhisdininghall,aglassofhisownredbyhim.Hehadpenandpaper,andhewastryingtomakeastart,fortheumpteenthtime,onChapterXVI,buthefoundrecollectionfarlessinterestingthanaction,andafterawhile,asalways,heimpatientlypushedthemanuscriptaway.Reachingforhisglass,hewasovercomebyafitofpainfulcoughing,knockingitover.Itfellwithaterribleclatter,spillingwineallovertheolive-woodsurfaceofhistable,butitdidnotbreak.Hestoodtoretrieveitasitrolledtowardtheedgeofthetable,andrightedit,asSofiacamein,attractedbythenoise.“Areyouallright,amore?”“It’snothing.I’msorryaboutthemess.Handmeacloth.”“Forgetthecloth.Youneedrest.”EziogropedforachairasSofiastoodbyhisside,easinghimdown.“Sit,”she
commanded,gently.Ashedidso,shepickeduptheunlabeledbottle,smalltowelwrappedrounditsneck,andcheckedthelevelofwineleftinit.“Bestcureforacold,”saidEzio,sheepishly.“HasNiccolòarrivedyet?”“Heisrightbehindme,”shereplied,addingdrily,“I’dbetterbringyou
anotherbottle.Thisone,Isee,isnearlyempty.”“Awriterneedshisfuel.”Machiavellihadenteredtheroomwiththelackofceremonyhewasentitledto
asanoldfriendandafrequentguest.HetooktheclothfromSofia.“Here,letme.”Hewipedtheglass,thenthetabletop.Eziowatchedhim,a
slightlysourlookonhisface.“Iinvitedyouheretodrink,notcleanupafterme.”
Machiavellifinishedthejobbeforehereplied,withasmile,“Icandoboth.Atidyroomandagoodglassofwineareallamanneedstofeelcontent.”Eziolaughedmockingly.“Rubbish!Yousoundlikeacharacterfromoneof
yourplays.”“You’veneverseenoneofhisplays,”putinSofia,shakingherhead.Eziowasembarrassed.“Well,Icanimagine.”“Canyou?Thenwhynotputthatimaginationtowork?Whydon’tyoubuckle
downandgetonwiththis?”Heindicatedtheneglectedmanuscript.“We’vebeenoverthis,Niccolò.Idon’twrite.I’mafather,ahusband,a
winemaker.I’mquitehappywiththat.”“Fairenough.”Sofiahadfetchedafreshbottleofthered,andplaceditbythem,withtwo
cleanglasses,cleannapkins,andabasketofpandiramerino.“I’llleaveyoutwotodiscussliteraturetogether,”shesaid.“OnceI’vehelpedAndreagetthechildrentobed,I’vegotsomewritingofmyowntodo.”“What’sthat?”askedMachiavelli.“Neveryoumind,”shesaid.“I’lljustwaittoseewhatyouthinkofthewine.
He’sbeenfrettingaboutit.Throughseveralbottles.”“She’llgetherbookfinishedwellbeforeyoudoyours,”saidMachiavelli.“Nevermindthat,”saidEzio.“Tastethis.Lastyear’sharvest.Adisaster.”“Ifyouaskformyjudgment,youshallhaveit.”HesippedthewineEziohadpouredhim,rolleditroundhismouth,savoring
it,andswallowed.“It’sdelicious.”Hesmiled.“Sangioveseagain—orhaveyouchanged?”Sofia’sfacebrokeintoagrin,assherubbedEzio’sshoulder.“Yousee?”she
said.“Ablend,”saidEzio,pleased.“ButmainlymyoldSangiovese.Ididn’treally
thinkitwasallthatbad.Mygrapesarethebest.”“Ofcoursetheyare.”Machiavellitookanotherdeepdraft.Eziosmiled,
thoughSofianoticedthathishandwenttohischestsurreptitiously,tomassageit.“Comeon,”saidEzio.“There’sstillsomelightinthesky.I’llshowyou...”Theywentoutsideandwalkeddowntheavenueleadingtothevineyards.“Trebbianoforthewhite,”Eziosaid,wavinghishandatarowofvines.“You
musthavesomewithdinner.We’regettingtonnoalcartoccio.Serena’sspecialty.”“Ilovethewayshecookstuna,”Machiavellireplied.Helookedaround.
“You’vedonewell,Ezio.Leonardowouldhavebeenproudtoseewhatyouhavecultivatedhere.”“OnlybecauseI’musingthetoolshegaveme,”Eziosaid,laughing.“He’dbe
jealous.IselltwiceasmuchwineasheeverdoesfromhisvineyardsinPortaVerci-nella.Still,heshouldneverhavesentthatrascalSalaibackfromAmboisetoruntheplace.”Thenhepaused.“Whatdoyoumean—hewouldhavebeenproud?”Machiavelli’sfacegrewgrave.“I’vehadaletter.It’stobothofusactuallybut
ittakesforeverfortheposttogetoutheretoFiesole.Look,Ezio.He’snottoowell.He’dliketoseeus.”Eziosquaredhisshoulders.“Whendowestart?”hesaid.
TheyreachedtheClosLucé,themanorhousenearthechâteauatAmboisewhichKingFrancishadgivenLeonardoaspartofthepackageofhispatronage,inlateApril.TheLoireflowedataneasypace,thebanksofitsbrownwaterscrowdedwithtreesinnewleaf.Theyrodethroughthegatesofthemanor,downanavenuelinedwithcypress
trees,tobemetbyamanservant.Leavingtheirhorsesinthecareofanostler,theyfollowedthemanservantintothehouse.Inalarge,airyroom,itsopenwindowsoverlookingtheparktotherear,layLeonardoonachaiselongue,dressedinayellowbrocadegownandhalf-coveredbyabearskinrug.Hislongwhitehairandbeardwerestraggly,andhehadgonebaldontop,buthiseyesstillshonebrightly,andhehalfrosetogreetthem.“Mydearfriends—Iamsogladyouhavecome!Etienne!Bringuswineand
cakes.”“You’renotsupposedtohavecakes.Letalonewine.”“Lookhere—whopaysyourwages?Nevermind—don’tanswerthat.The
samemanthatpaysmine,Iknow!Just—doasyou’retold!”Themanservantbowed,andleft,soontoreturnwithatray,whichheplaced
ceremoniouslyonanearbypolishedtablebeforetakinghisleaveagain.Butashedidso,hebowedoncemore,andsaidtoLeonardo’sguests:“Youmustforgivethedisorder.It’sourway.”MachiavelliandEziosharedasmile.Thepolishedtableandthegleamingtray
wereanislandinaroughseaofchaos.Leonardo’shabitshadn’tchanged.“Howarethings,oldfriend?”askedEzio,takingaseatneartheartist.
“Ican’tcomplain,butI’minterestedinmovingon,”Leonardosaid,tryingtomakehisvoicesoundstrongerthanitwas.“Whatdoyoumean?”saidEzio,concernedthathisfriendwasusingsome
kindofeuphemism.“I’mnottalkingaboutdying,”saidLeonardo,irritably.“I’mtalkingabout
England.Theirnewking’sveryinterestedinbuildinguphisnavy.I’dliketogetoverthereandsellhimmysubmarine.TheVenetiansneverdidpayme,youknow.”“Theyneverbuiltit.”“That’sbesidethepoint!”“Don’tyouhaveenoughtooccupyyourmindhere?”askedMachiavelli.Leonardogavehimanoutragedlook.“Ifyoucancallcreatingamechanical
lionoccupyingmymind!”hesnapped.“Thatwasmyliegelord’slastcommission.Iaskyou—amechanicallion,thatwalksalongandroars,andasafinale,hisbreastopensandrevealsabasketoflilies!”hesnorted.“Goodenoughinitself,Isuppose;buttodemandsuchagewgawofme!Me!Theinventorofflyingmachines,andtanks!”“Andparachutes,”addedEzio,softly.“Diditcomeinhandy?”“Veryhandy.”“Good.”Leonardowavedahandtowardthetray.“Helpyourselves.Butnot
me.”Hisvoicefellalittle.“Etienne’sright—themostIcanstomachthesedaysiswarmmilk.”Theyweresilent.ThenMachiavellisaid,“Doyoupaintstill?”Leonardogrewsad.“I’dliketo...ButsomehowI’velosttheforce.Can’t
seemtofinishthingsanymore.ButI’veleftSalaitheGiocondainmywill.Itmighthelphimoutinhisoldage.IthinkFranciswouldlovetobuyit.Mindyou,Iwouldn’tgiveyoutuppenceforitmyself.Notmybestwork,notbyfar.IpreferthethingIdidofdearlittleSalaiasJohntheBaptist...”Hisvoicetrailedoff,andhelookedintothemiddledistance,atnothing.“Thatdearboy.SuchapityIhadtolethimgo.Imisshimsomuch.Buthewaswretchedhere.He’sbetterofflookingafterthevineyards.”“Itendvinesmyself,thesedays,”saidEzio,softly.“Iknow!Goodforyou.Muchmoresensibleforamanofyouragethan
runningaroundhackingofftheheadsofTemplars.”Leonardopaused.“I’mafraidtheywillalwaysbewithus,whateverwedo.Perhapsit’sbettertobowtotheinevitable.”
“Neversaythat!”criedEzio.“Sometimeswehavenochoice,”Leonardorepliedsadly.Therewassilenceagain,thenMachiavellisaid,“What’sthistalkofwills,
Leonardo?”Leonardolookedathim.“Oh,Niccolò.What’sthepointofpretense?I’m
dying.That’swhyIaskedyoutocome.Wethreehavebeenthroughsomuch.Iwantedtosaygoodbye.”“IthoughtyouhadplanstovisitKingHenryofEngland?”“He’sabullishyoungpuppy,andI’dliketo,”Leonardoreplied.“ButIwon’t.
Ican’t.ThisroomisthelastplaceI’lleversee.Andthetreesoutside.Fullofbirds,youknow,especiallynowit’sspringagain.”Helaysilentforsolong,withoutmoving,thatthetwofriendslookedateachotherinalarm.ButthenLeonardostirred.“DidInodoff?”heasked.“Ishouldn’t.Idon’thavetimeforsleep.Begettingenoughofthat,soonenough.”Thenhewassilentagain.Hewasasleeponcemore.“We’llcomebacktomorrow,”Eziosaidgently.HeandMachiavelliroseand
madeforthedoor.“Comebacktomorrow!”Leonardo’svoicestoppedthemintheirtracks.
“We’lltalksomemore.”Theyturnedtohimasheraisedhimselfononeelbow.Thebearskinfellfrom
hisknees,andMachiavellistoopedtoreplaceit.“Thankyou,Niccolò.”Leonardolookedatthem.“I’lltellyouasecret.Allmy
life—whileIthoughtIwaslearningtolive,Ihavesimplybeenlearninghowtodie.”
Theywerewithhimaweeklater,whenhebreathedhislast,inthesmallhoursofMay2.Buthenolongerknewthem.Hewasalreadygone.“Arumor’salreadygoingaround,”saidMachiavelli,astheyrodesadlyhomeward,“thatKingFranciscradledhisheadinhisarmsashedied.”Eziospat.“Somepeople—evenkings—willdoanythingforpublicity,”he
said.
EIGHTY-FOUR
Theseasonsrevolvedfourmoretimes.LittleFlaviahadturnedten;Marcellowasapproachinghisninthbirthday.Eziocouldnotbelievethathehadreachedtheageofsixty-four.Timeseemedtospeedupmorerelentlessly,thelessyouhadleftofit,hethought.Buthetendedhisvinesandenjoyedit,andstill,asMachiavelliandSofiaendlesslypressedhimto,continuedwithhismemoir.HehadreachedChapterXXIValready!Hestilltrained,too,despitethenaggingcoughthathadneverquitelefthim.
ButhehadlongsincehandedhisAssassin’sweaponsovertoAriosto.TherewasnonewsfromRomeorConstantinople,orindeedfromErasmusinRotterdam,togivehimanycauseforanxiety,thoughthepredictedsplitintheChurchhadoccurred,withyoungLutherattheforefrontoftheReformationinthenorth;andnewwarsthreatenedtheworldonceagain.Eziocouldonlywatchandwait.Oldhabitsdiedhard,hethought.Andhe’dbecomeenoughofacountrymantobeabletocatchthescentofastorm.Itwasafternoon,andhelookedfromhisverandahacrosshisvineyardstothe
south,wherehecouldseethreefiguresonacarriage,silhouettedontheskyline.Hedidnotrecognizethem,anditwastoofarawaytoseewhatmannerofpeopletheywere,thoughhesawthattheirunfamiliarheadgearmarkedthemasforeigners.Buttheydidnotstop.HeguessedtheyhopedtomakeFlorencebydusk.Hewentbackintothevillaandmadeforhisroom.Hisden.Hehadthe
shuttersdrawntheretohelphimconcentrate.Anoillampwasburningonadeskscatteredwithpapers.Hisday’sliteraryefforts.Heseatedhimselfreluctantly,putonhisglasses,andreadwhathehadwritten,grimacingslightly.ThebattlewiththeWolfmen!Howcouldhehavefailedtomakethatinteresting?Hewasinterruptedbyaknockatthedoor.“Yes?”hesaid,notdispleasedtobeinterrupted.Thedooropenedhalfway,andSofiastoodtherethoughshedidnotenter.“I’mtakingMarcellointotown,”shesaidcheerily.“What—toseeNiccolò’slatest?”saidEzio,lookingupfromhisreadingand
notreallypayingattentiontoher.“Ishouldn’thavethoughMandragolawasasuitableplayforaneight-year-old.”
“Ezio,Machiavelli’splayclosedthreeweeksago.Besides,I’mnotgoingtoFlorence,justtoFiesole.”“Imissedhisplay?He’llbefurious.”“I’msurehe’llbefineaboutit.Heknowsyou’vegotyourheaddown.We’ll
bebacksoon.KeepaneyeonFlavia,willyou?She’splayinginthegarden.”“Ofcourse.I’mfedupwiththisanyway.IthinkI’lldosomepruninginstead.”“Imustsayit’sapitytowastesuchagloriousafternooncoopedupinhere.”
Shegavehimaslightlookofconcern.“Somefreshairwoulddoyougood.”“I’mnotaninvalid!”“Ofcourseyouaren’t,amore.Iwasjustthinking...”Shegesturedtowardthe
crumpledpagesscatteredoverthedesk.Eziopointedlydippedhisquillanddrewablanksheettowardhim.“Apresto!Besafe.”Sofiaclosedthedoorsoftly.Eziowroteafewwordsandstopped,scowlingat
thepage.Heputdownhisquill,tookoffhisglasses,andcrumpledthepageintoaball.
Thenhestalkedfromtheroom.Hedidneedsomefreshair.Hewenttohistoolshedandcollectedapairofsecateursandatrug.Thenhemadehiswayacrossthegardentowardthenearestrowofvines.HelookedidlyaroundforFlaviabuthecouldseenosignofher.Hewasn’tundulyworried.Shewasasensiblegirl.Hewashalfwaytothevineyardwhenheheardasuddennoisefromanearby
shrubbery.Flaviainpealsoflaughter.Shehadambushedhim!“Flavia,tesoro—staywhereIcanseeyou!”Therewasmorelaughterasthebushshook.ThenFlaviapeekedout.Ezio
smiled,shakinghishead.Justthen,hisattentionwascaughtbysomeoneontheroad.Helookedup,
and,inthefardistance,hesawafiguredressedinoddlycolored,motleygarb.Butthesunwasbehindit,andtoobrightforhimtomakeitoutcompletely.Heheldhishanduptoshieldhiseyes,butwhenhelookedagain,thefigurehaddisappeared.Hewipedhisbrowandmadehiswayacrosstohisvines.
Alittlelater,hewasdeepinthevineyard,pruningtheTrebbianograpes.Theydidn’treallyneedit,butitgavehimsomethingtodowhilehismindbeaveredawayattheproblemofrecountingthestoryofhisfight,longagoinRome,withthegroupoffanaticswho’dcalledthemselvestheSonsofRemus.Thevinesbrushedhiselbowsasheworked.Hestoppedtoexamineabunchofgrapes,andhepluckedonefromthecluster.Heexaminedit,rollingitaround.Hesqueezedit,crushingit,andsawthatitwasjuicy.Hesmiled,andatethemangledgrape,cleaninghisfingersonhiscoarselinentunic.Hewipedhisbrowagain,satisfied.Abreezeblewup,makingthevineleaves
rustle.Hetookadeepbreath,scentingthewarmair,andclosedhiseyesforamoment.Thenhefeltthehairsonthebackofhisneckprickle.Heopenedhiseyesandmadehiswayfasttotheedgeofthevines,lookingin
thedirectionofthevilla.There,ontheroadbyit,hesawFlavia,talkingtotheoddlyclothedpersonhe’dseenearlier.Thefigureworeapeakedhood.Hehurriedtowardthem,hissecateursheldlikeadagger.Thewindfreshened,
bearinghiswarningcriesaway.Hebrokeintoajog,wheezingwiththeeffort.Hischesthurt.Buthehadnotimetoworryaboutthat.Thefigurewasbendingdown,towardhisdaughter.“Leaveheralone!”heshouted,stumblingon.Thefigureheardhimthen,turningitshead,butkeepingitlowered.Atthe
samemoment,Flaviapluckedsomething,whichshe’devidentlybeenoffered,fromitshand.Eziowasnearlyuponthem.Thefiguredrewitselferect,headstilllow.Ezio
hurledhissecateursatit,asiftheywereathrowingknife,buttheyfellshortandclatteredharmlesslytotheground.Eziodrewuptothem.“Flavia!Goinside!”hecommanded,keepingthefear
outofhisvoice.Flavialookedathiminsurprise.“But,Papa—she’snice.”Eziosteppedbetweenhisdaughterandthestranger,andtookthepersonby
thecoatlapels.Thestranger’sheadcameup,andEziosawthefaceofayoungChinesewoman.Hereleasedher,takenaback.Thechildheldupasmallovalcoinwithasquareholeatitscenterforhimto
see.Thewritingonit—ifitwaswriting—lookedstrange.Pictograms.AChineseqián.TheChinesewomanremainedmotionless,silent.Ezio,stilltense,lookedat
herclosely.Hewasbreathingheavily,winded,buthismindwasrazor-sharp.
Thenhesawthatathernecksheworeafamiliaremblem.TheemblemoftheBrotherhoodoftheAssassins.
EIGHTY-FIVE
Later,whenSofiahadreturned,thethreeofthemsattalkinginthevillawhilethechildrenwatchedcuriouslyfromthetopofthestaircase.Eziowasbeingashospitableashepossiblycouldtohisunexpectedguest,buthewasadamant.“Idon’tknowwhatelsetosay,ShaoJun.Iamsosorry.”TheChinesewomandidnotreply,butshewasnotangry.Shewasverycalm.“Iamverysorry.ButIcannothelpyou.Idon’twantanypartofthis.”ShaoJunraisedhereyestomeethis.“Iwanttounderstand.”“Understandwhat?”“Howtolead.HowtorebuildmyOrder.”Hesighed,nowslightlyannoyed.“No.Forme,thatisover.Finito.”He
paused.“Now,Ithinkyoushouldgo.”“Ezio,think!”Sofiascoldedhim.“ShaoJunhascomealongway.”Sheturned
totheirguest.“DidIpronounceyournamecorrectly?”Junnodded.“Willyoustayfordinner?”Eziogavehiswifeablacklookandturnedtofacethefireplace.“Grah-zie,”saidJun,inhesitantItalian.Sofiasmiled.“Good.Andwehaveabedroomalreadymadeup.Youare
welcometostayforafewnights—oraslongasyoulike.”Eziogrowledbutsaidnothing.Sofialeftinthedirectionofthekitchens,while
Ezioslowlyturnedandobservedhisguest.ShaoJunsatquietly,butshewascompletelyself-possessed.Shesurveyedtheroom.“I’llbebackbeforedark,”hetoldherinabad-temperedvoice.Hestormedout,throwinghismannerstothewind.Junwatchedhimgo,a
subtlesmileonherlips.Onceoutside,Eziotookrefugeinhisvineyard.
EIGHTY-SIX
Eziowasinthechildren’sroom,watchingtheirsleepingfiguresbycandlelight.Hesteppeduptothewindowandlockedit.HesatontheedgeofFlavia’sbed,watchingherandMarcellowithaheavyheart.Theylookedsopeaceful—soangelic.Suddenly,theroomgotalittlebrighterasSofiaentered,holdinganother
candle.Helookedupatherandsmiled.ShesmiledbackandsatatthefootofMarcello’sbed.Eziosaidnothingforamoment.“Areyouallright?”sheasked,alittletimidly.Helookeddownathischildrenagain,lostinthought.“Ican’tseemtoleave
mypastbehindme,”hemuttered.Thenheturnedhisgazetohiswife.“Istartedthisactofmylifesolate,Sofia.IknewIwouldn’thavetimetodoeverything...ButnowIworrythatIwon’thavetimetodoanything.”Hereyesweresadbutfullofunderstanding.Theyheardafaintcreakingfromaboveandlookedtowardtheceiling.“Whatisshedoingontheroof?”Eziomuttered.“Leaveherbe,”saidSofia.
Abovethem,ShaoJunstoodontheredtileshighupnearthechimneys.ShehadtakenupaposethatwassomethingbetweenanAssassinattackpositionandsimplythatofsomeonerelaxingandenjoyingherself.Shescannedthemoonlitcountrysideasthenightwindwhisperedaroundher.Thenextday,Ezioemergedfromthevillaearly,togreyskies.Heglancedupattheroof,but,thoughthewindowofherroomwasopen,therewasnosignofShaoJun.Hecalledhername,buttherewasnoanswer.Hewenttogiveorderstohis
foreman,forthetimeofthevendangewasapproaching,andheprayedforagoodharvestthisyear—thegrapescertainlypromisedit,andthesummer
weatherhadbeenfavorable.Theveraisonhadbeengood,too,buthewantedtodouble-checkthesugarandacidlevelsinthegrapesbeforepicking.Thenhe’dsendtheforemanintoFiesoleandasfarasFlorenceifneedbe,torecruittheseasonallaborthey’dneed.Itwasgoingtobeabusytime,anditwasonethatEziolookedforwardtoeveryyear—lotsofphysicalactivityandlittletimetothinkaboutanythingelse.ShaoJun’sarrivalhadthrownthehard-wonsecurityheenjoyedofftrack.Heresentedit.Hefoundhimselfhopingthatshehadleftbeforedawn.Oncehehadfinishedhismeetingwithhisforeman,hefeltanirresistible
impulsetoreturntothevillatoseeifhisprayerhadbeenanswered.Somehow,hedoubtedit,buttherewasnooneaboutwhenheenteredthehouse.Grimly,followingsomeinstinctthathollowedhisstomach,hemadehiswaytohisden.Hestoppedshortatthedoor.Itwasopen.Hesweptintotheroomand
discoveredtheChinesewomanstandingbehindhisdesk—stilllitteredwithdiscardednotesandpagesfromthedaysbefore—andreadingpartofthecompletedmanuscript.Eziofellintoaredrage.“Whatdoyouthinkyou’redoing?Getout!”Sheputdownthesheafofpapersshewasreadingfromandlookedathim
calmly.“Thewind—itopenedthedoor.”“Fuori!”Junwalkedquicklypasthimandoutoftheroom.Hemadehiswayquicklyto
thedeskandshuffledthepapersaround,pickinguponethatcaughthiseyeandreadingfromit.Then,unimpressed,hetosseditbackonthepileandturnedfromthedesktostareblanklyoutthewindow.HecouldseeJunoutthere,intheyard,herbacktohim,apparentlywaiting.Hisshouldersslumped.Afterafewmoreminutes’hesitation,helefttheden
andmadehiswayouttoher.Shewassittingonalowstonewall.Heapproachedher,coughinglightlyin
thekeenOctoberwind.Sheturned.“Duìbùqĭ—I’msorry.Itwaswrongofme.”“Itwas.”Hepaused.“Ithinkyoushouldleave.”Shesatsilentlyforamoment,then,withoutwarning,shequoted:“‘Myname
isEzioAuditore.WhenIwasayoungman,Ihadliberty,butIdidnotseeit;Ihadtime,butIdidnotknowit;andIhadlove,butIdidnotfeelit.ItwouldbethirtylongyearsbeforeIunderstoodthemeaningofallthree.’”Shepaused.“Thatisbeautiful,”shesaid.Eziowasstunned.HestaredpastJun,reflecting.Inthedistance,theycould
hearthejinglingofahorse’sreins.“Iwanttounderstand,likeyoudo,”Junwenton.“Tohelpmypeople.”Eziolookedatherwithafriendliereye.“IwasanAssassinforalongtime,
Jun.AndIknowthatatanymoment,someonecouldcomeforme.Ormyfamily.”Hepaused.“Doyousee?ThatiswhyImustbecareful.”Shenodded,andhecouldseethatshealmostfeltsorryforhim.Helooked
towardhisvineyards.“Ishouldbestartingtohirepeopletohelpmewiththevendange,but...”Hetrailedoff.Juntiltedherhead,listening.“Comeinside.Let’sgetsomethingtoeat.”Sheslidoffthewallandfollowedhim.
EIGHTY-SEVEN
Themarketinthegreatsquaresouthwestofthecathedralwasasbusyasever.Merchants,businessmen,servants,andpeasantsjostledeachotherinamoreorlessfriendlywayastheypassedbetweenthestalls.Junstoodunderonesideofthesurroundingcolonnade,watchingthebustleasEzio,nearby,haggledinthecoldsunlightwithastallholderoverthepriceofagrapepicker’sbasket.Junwasrapt,absorbingthesightsandsoundsofFlorence.Shestaredopenlyatpeoplejustasopenlyaspeoplestaredather.Shewasunbothered.Eziocompletedhispurchaseandcameover,tappingherontheshoulder.“I’ll
beluckyifthislaststhreeseasons,”hesaid.Shelookedathimasheshowedherthebasket,unsurewhatsheshouldbelookingfortojudgeitsquality.Eziorealizedthis,withasmile.“Comeon,”hesaid.“Iwanttoshowyousomething.”TheymovedthroughthecrowdsinthedirectionofthePiazzadellaSignoria,
andoncetheresatdownonabenchneartheloggia,watchingthepeoplecomeandgo,allbrightlyclad,exceptforthosedressedinexpensiveblacksilksandvelvets.“Whoarethey?”askedJun.“Theyarethebankers,”Ezioreplied.“It’sakindofuniform,sothattheycan
recognizeeachother—butithasanotheradvantage—wecanseethemcoming!”Junsmileduncertainly.“It’snice,no?”Eziocontinued.“Fulloflife!”“Yes.”“Butnotalways.Halfmyfamilywasmurderedinthispiazza.Executed.Right
here.Forty-fiveyearsago.Iwasnineteen.”Heclosedhiseyesbrieflyatthememory,thenwenton:“Butnow,toseeit
likethis,sopienadivita,Ican’thelpbutfeelcontent.Andsatisfiedthatsomuchpainhasfadedaway.”Helookedatherearnestly.“ThelifeofanAssassinispain,Jun.Yousufferit,andyouinflictit.Youwatchithappen—allinthehopethatyoucanhelpitdisappear,intime.It’sterriblyironical,Iknow.Butthereitis.”Theysatinsilenceforawhile.Junseemedwatchful.ThenEziosawhertense
atsomething.Somethingshehadnoticedinthecrowd.Aflashofacertain
color?Auniformperhaps?OneoftheSignoriaguards?Butthemomentpassed,andheletitgo.“Allright,”hesaid,rising.“Timetodragthisoldmanbacktohisvilla.”Shejoinedhim,andtheyleft,crossingthesquareandtakingthestreet,so
familiartoEzio,whichraneast,justtothenorthofthePalazzo.Junkeptcastingbackwardglances.Thestreetthey’dreachedwasconsiderablyemptierofpeople,andfinally,as
theymovedalongit,theywerealone.Suddenly,EzioheardanoiseJundidnot.Heturnedhisheadquickly.Hetookabackwardleap,raisinghisbaskettoshieldJun,andinthenickof
time—athrowndaggerembeddeditselfinit.Barelyasecondlater,someonelandedEzioasavagekickinthegut.Hestaggeredbackwardandfellagainstastonewall.Meanwhile,Junhadreactedwithlightningspeed.Shewasalreadystanding
betweenEzioandhisassailant—anotherChinesewoman,similarlydressedtoJun,butstrippeddowntocombattunicandtrousers.Thetwowomencircledeachother,almostballeti-cally,slowly,thenlunging
ateachotherlikestrikingsnakes,landingslicingblowswiththeedgesoftheirhands,orkickingsofastthatEziocouldbarelyfollowthemovement.ButhecouldseethatJunwasgettingtheworstofit.Hesprangforwardand
struckherattackerontheheadwiththebasket,sendinghersprawling.Shelayprone,motionless.Junsteppedforward.“Jun!She’sfakingit!”Atthesamemomentthemysteriouswomanwasbackonherfeet,fallingon
Junwithanotherkniferaised.Theybothfelltotheground,rollinginthedust,fightingwiththeferocityandtheviciousagilityofcats,theirlimbsandbodiesmovingsofastthattheybecameblurred.Thenasuddenscream.Theassailantbrokefree,herownknifeburiedinher
chest,justabovethesternum.Shetotteredsidewaysforamoment,thenkeeledover,strikingherheadonaflintbuttress,andwasstill.Thistimeshewasnotfaking.Eziolookedround.Nooneinsight.HegrabbedJun’shand.“Comeon!”hesaidthroughclenchedteeth.
AstheyrodehomeinEzio’scarriage,Junbegantoexplain.Eziorealizedthatshemighthavedonesoearlierifhe’dgivenherthechance.Helistenedgrimlyasshetoldhertale.“ItwasmyMentor’swishtomeetyou.WeleftChinatogether,insecret.But
wewerefollowed.TheycaughtupwithusinVenice.Theytookmymasterprisonerthere.Hebademeflee,completeourmission.Ididnotseehimagain.”“Whoarethey?”“ServantsofZhuHuocong—theJiajingEmperor.Ayoungman,scarcely
morethanaboy,andnotborntorule,butfategavehimthethrone,andhecontrolsuswitharuthlessandbloodyhand.”Shepaused.“Iwasbornaconcubine,butmyMentorfreedmewhenIwasyoung.Wereturnedlatertosavemoregirls,buttheywere—”Shepaused.“Theemperorthoughtthatifhedranktheirmonthlyblooditwouldgivehimeternallife.”Shebrokeoff,swallowinghardbeforemusteringherself-control,withaneffort,andcontinuing:“Jiajingisacruelman.Hekillsallwhoopposehim,andhepreferslingchito
beheading.”“Lingchi?”Junmadeseveralslicingmotionsacrossherpalm.“Slowprocess.Many
thousandcuts.Then—dead.”Ezio’sfacesetlikegranite.Hewhippedhishorseson.
EIGHTY-EIGHT
SofiawasinEzio’sden,stokingafreshfire,whensheheardthecarriagetearuptothefrontofthehouse.Alarmed,sherosequicklytoherfeet.Amomentlater,Ezioburstin,closelyfollowedbyShaoJun.Herushedtothewindowandclosedtheshutters,boltingthem.Thenheturnedtohiswife.“Packsomebags.Theyareputtingfreshhorsestothecoach.Someofourmen
willgowithyou.”“What—?”“YoumuststayatMachiavelli’stonight.”“What’shappened?”“Amisunderstanding.”SofialookedfromhimtoJun,wholoweredhereyes,embarrassedathaving
broughthertroublestotheirdoor.“Givemeamoment,”shesaid.
Soonafterward,sheandthechildrenwereinstalledinthecarriage.Eziostoodatitsdoor.Theylookedateachother.Bothwantedtosaysomething,butnowordscame.Eziosteppedbackandnoddedtothecoachman.Hecrackedthereins,andthe
horsesmovedforwardintothegatheringgloom.Astheygatheredpace,Sofialeanedfromthewindowandblewhimakiss.He
raisedhisarminfarewell,then,withoutwaitingtowatchthemoutofsight,returnedtothevillaandclosedandlockedthedoor.
EIGHTY-NINE
EzioandJunsatfacingeachotheronwoodenbenches,drawnupinfrontofaroaringfire.Waiting.“WhenIfirstfoughttheBorgia,itwasrevengethatdroveme,andmyfirst
impulsewastoaimforthehead,”Eziowastellingher.“Intime,however,Ilearnedthatthosewhoinspirefearhavemoredevotedfollowersthanthosewhopreachlove.KillingRodrigoandCesarewouldhaveachievednothingifIhadnotbeenabletoreplacetheirreignofterrorwithonethatinvolvedsomemeasureoffraternity.”Hepausedinthought.“SoIspentmanyyearsteachingmenandwomentothinkandactforthemselves.FirstinRome,thenamongourBrotherhoodinConstantinople.”“Ilongtoreadofyourdeeds.Youmustfinishyourbook.”“Theimportantthingtorealizeisthis:LovebindsourOrdertogether;loveof
people,ofcultures,oftheworld.”Hewassilentagainforamoment.“Fighttopreservethatwhichinspireshope,andyouwillwinbackyourpeople,ShaoJun.”Junstaredintotheflames,thinking,asthegrandscopeofherfuturewidened
inherimagination.“Itwilltakealong,longtime,”shesaidquietly,atlast.“Butifyoudoitright,itwillhappen.”Juntookadeepbreathandstraightenedup,adeterminedexpressiononher
face.ShelookedacrossatEzioandnodded.Heleanedacrossandpattedherontheshoulder.“Getsomerest,”hesaid.Sheroseandbowedslightly,thenlefttheroom.Ezioturnedtothefire,itsglowreddeninghisface.
Deepinthenight,disturbedbystealthysoundsoutside,Eziomadehiswaytothekitchens.Fromhighinthesky,themoonshonethroughthebarredwindows.Ezioapproachedtheknifeblocksandpulledseveralknivesout,testingthemforbalance.Notsatisfied,heputthembackandcastaroundforsomeotherweapon.Anironladle?No.Achoppingboard?No.Apoker,perhaps?Yes!Hewentover
tothestoveandpickedoneout,threefeetlongandmadeofheavysteel.Hetestedit,makingtwoorthreepracticepasseswithit.Hetensedatanoisefromabove.Secondslater,abodydroppedpastthe
window.EziosawJunlandinacrouch,thenboltintothenight.Hemadeforthedoorandunlockedit,flingingitopen.TherewasaChinesemanthere,poisedforattack,whoinstantlylungedathim
withadao.Eziosteppedbackandslammedthedoorontheman’sarm,smashingtheradiusandulna,andthesworddroppedfromhishand,astheChinesehowledinagony.Eziothrewthedooropenagainandbroughtthepokerdownhardontheman’shead,splittingtheskull.Hejumpedoverthecorpseanddashedoutside.HesoonfoundJun,engagedincombatwiththreeattackers.Itwasgoing
badlyforher,buthe’darrivedintimetoturnthetide,andtheservantsoftheJiajingEmperorretreatedinthedirectionofthevineyard.There,theytookastand.Jun,fightingwithonlyherfistsandfeet,tookoneof
theiropponentsoutalmostimmediately,asEziobroughtdownasecondwithhispoker,rammingitspointsquarelyintohisattacker’sface.ButthethirdChinesemanagedtoknockthepokerfromhisgrasp,anditwasonlybyreachingoutfastforawoodendowel,whichhepluckedfromthevines,thathemanagedtoregainhisadvantage,beatingthemantotheground,thenstrikinghimhardonthenapeoftheneck,crushingthecervicalvertebrae.Itwasover.Eziocollapsedonthegentleslopewherehisvineswereplanted,
exhaustedbutuninjured.HecaughtJun’seyeandtriedtolaugh,buthislaughterturnedintoawheezingcough.“Isoundlikeadyingcat,”hesaid.“Comeon,I’llhelpyou.”Shehelpedhimtohisfeet,and,together,theyreturnedtothevilla.
NINETY
Theywereawakelongbeforebreakofday.Themorningwascool.Somewaterysunlightfounditswaythroughthehaze.ShaoJunstoodintheroad,herpackonherback.Staringintothedistance,she
wasreadytodepart.Sheseemedlostinthought,andonlyturnedwhenEzioapproachedfromthevilla.Hisbreathingwasstilllaboredandheavy.Hecameuptoher.“Itislongwayhome,no?”“Butthereismuchtoseealongtheway.Dashi,xièxiènin—Thankyou,
Mentor.”Shebowedslightly.Eziowascarryingsomething.Asmall,ancientbox.Hehelditouttoher.
“Here.Thismaybeofuseoneday.”Juntookitandturneditinherhands.Thenshebegantoopenit,butEzio
stoppedher.“No,”hesaid.“Onlyifyouloseyourway.”Shenoddedandpackeditaway.EziosquintedpastJun,peeringuptheroad.
Hesawthebannersofapproachingsoldiers.“Youshouldgo,”hesaid.Junfollowedhisgaze,nodded,andsetoff,towardthevineyardsthatgrewon
theothersideoftheroad.Eziowatchedherasshemadeherwayquicklyoverthebrowofanearbyhill.Thesoldiersrodeupsoonafterward,andEziogreetedthem.Whenhelooked
inJun’sdirectiononcemore,shehaddisappeared.Afewweekslater,theharvestdone,andMarcello’sninthbirthdaybehindthem,hewasbackinhisden,tryingtowriteagain.Hehadmadegoodprogressthistime.Hestaredatthelastblanksheetinfrontofhim,thendippedhisquillandscribbledafewwords,concentratinghard.Hereadthemback,andsmiled.Thenhedroppedhisquillasashootingpaininhischestcaughthimoffguard.Therewasaknockatthedoor.“Yes?”hesaid,collectinghimselfandreplacingthequillinitsstandbythe
inkwell.
Sofiaenteredtheroom.“JusttakingthekidsdowntoFiesole.We’llbebackjustafterdark.”“Good.”“Marketdaytomorrow.Areyoucomingwithus?”“Yes.”“Sure?”“I’llbefine.”Sheclosedthedoorbehindher.Eziosatbroodingforamoment,then,
satisfied,begangatheringthepapersonhisdesk,stackingthemneatly,andtyingaribbonroundthem.
NINETY-ONE
Thenextdaywasfineandfresh.TheyhadstayedinFlorenceforlunch,andSofiawasbentonmakingjustafewmorepurchasesbeforethejourneyhome.Ezio,walkingdownthestreetafewpacesbehindhiswifeandchildren,suddenlywincedasafitofcoughingtookhim.Heleanedagainstawallforsupport.Inamoment,Sofiawasbyhisside.“Youshouldhavestayedathome.”Hesmiledather.“Iamhome.”“Sitdown,here.”Sheindicatedanearbybench.“Waitforus.We’llberight
overthere.Onlytakeaminuteortwo.”Henodded,watchingherrejointhechildrenandwanderoffalittlefarther
downthestreet.Hemadehimselfcomfortable,lettingthepainsubside.Hewatchedthepeoplewalkingtoandfro,goingabouttheirdailybusiness.
Hefeltpleasedandenjoyedwatchingthem.Hebreathedinthesmellsofthemarketasitbrokeuparoundhim.Helistenedtothesoundthetradersmade.“Iloveithere,”hesaidtohimself.Home.Homeatlast.HisreveriewasinterruptedbythepeevishvoiceofayoungItalianwho
plumpedhimselfdownonthebenchnearhim.Theyoungmanwastalking,apparently,tohimself.Hedidn’tlookatEzio.“Aldiavolo!Ihatethisdamncity.IwishIwereinRome!Ihearthewomen
thereare...mmm...likeripeSangioveseonthevine,youknow?Notlikehere.Firenze!”Hespatontheground.Eziolookedathim.“Idon’tthinkFlorenceisyourproblem,”heremarked,
painedatwhattheyoungmanhadsaid.“Ibegyourpardon?”Eziowasabouttoreply,butthepainseizedhimagain,andhewinced,and
startedtogasp.Theyoungmanturnedtohim.“Steady,oldman.”HegrabbedEzio’swristasEziocaughthisbreath.Lookingdownatthehand
thatheldhim,Eziothoughtthegripwasuncommonlystrong,andtherewassomethingstrange,almostfamiliar,abouttheman’sexpression.Buthewasprobablyimaginingitall.Heshookhisheadtoclearit.TheyoungmanlookedatEzioclosely,andsmiled.Ezioreturnedthelook.
“Getsomerest,eh?”theyoungmansaid.Herosetohisfeetandwalkedaway.Ezionoddedinbelatedagreement,
watchinghimgo.Thenheleanedback,seekingSofiainthethinningcrowd.Andsawheratastall,buyingvegetables.AndtherebesideherwereFlaviaandMarcello,baitingeachother,playingtogether.Heclosedhiseyesandtooksomedeepbreaths.Hisbreathingcalmed.The
youngmanwasright.Heshouldgetsomerest...Sofiawaspackingthevegetablesshe’dboughtintoabasketwhensomethingcoldcreptintoherheart.Shelookedup,thenaround,backtowhereEziosat.Therewassomethingaboutthewayhewassitting.Confused,notwantingtoadmitwhatshefearedtoherself,sheputahandto
hermouthandhurriedacrosstohim,leavingthechildrenplayingwheretheywere.Asshegotcloser,sheslowedherpace,lookingathim.Shesatdownbyhis
side,takinghishand.Andthensheleanedforward,pressingherforeheadagainsthishair.Oneortwopeoplelookedintheirdirection,thenoneortwomore,with
concern;butotherwise,lifeinthestreetwenton.
NINETY-TWO
Muchlaterthatday,backhome,andhavingsentMachiavelliaway,Sofiatookherselfintotheden.Thechildrenwereinbed.Shedidn’tthinkwhathadhappenedhadsunkinforthem,yet.Intheden,thefirehadgoneout.Shelitacandle.Shewalkedtothedeskand
pickeduptheneatlystackedsheafofpapers,tiedwitharibbon,thatlayonit.Andshebegantoread:
WhenIwasayoungman,Ihadliberty,butIdidnotseeit;Ihadtime,butIdidnotknowit;andIhadlove,butIdidnotfeelit.ManydecadeswouldpassbeforeIunderstoodthemeaningofallthree.Andnow,inthetwilightofmylife,thisunderstandinghaspassedintocontentment.Love,liberty,andtime...oncesomuchatmydisposal,arethefuelsthatdrivemeforward;andlove,mostespecially,mydearest,foryou,ourchildren,ourbrothersandsisters...andforthevastandwonderfulworldthatgaveuslifeandkeepsusguessing.Withendlessaffection,mySofia,Iamforeveryours.
EzioAuditore
Clickhereformorebooksbythisauthor
LISTOFCHARACTERS
Adad:stonemasonAlMualim:MentoroftheBrotherhoodAl-Sayf,Malik:AssassincomradeofAltaïrAl-Sayf,Tazim:AssassinandMalik’ssonAl-Scarab:piratecaptainAuditore,Claudia:Ezio’ssisterAuditore,Ezio:MasterAssassinAuditore,Federico:Ezio’selderbrotherAuditore,Giovanni:Ezio’sfatherAuditore,Mario:Ezio’suncleAuditore,Petruccio:Ezio’syoungerbrotherAzize:AssassininConstantinopleBaglioni,Pantasilea:Bartolomeod’Alviano’swifeBarleti,Tarik:JanissarycaptainBekir:LarnakashippingagentBorgia,Cesare:Rodrigo’sson,1480–1519Borgia,Rodrigo:PopeAlexanderVI,1451–1503Buonarroti,Michelangelo:artist,sculptor,etc.,1475–1564Cemal:AssassininAltaïr’stimed’Alviano,Bartolomeo:ItaliancaptainandAssassin,akaBarto,1455–1515daVinci,Leonardo:artist,scientist,sculptor,etc.,1452–1519deSable,Robert:TemplarGrandMasterDilara:Ottomanspy,Tarik’sagentDogan:AssassininConstantinopleDovizi,Duccio:Claudia’sex-boyfriendDürer,MeisterAlbrecht:painter,1471–1528Erasmus,Desiderius:leaderoftheNorthernEuropeanAssassinsEvraniki:AssassininConstantinopleFerdinandII,King:kingofSpain,1479–1516FrancisI,King:kingofFrance,1494–1547Haras:AssassinadeptinAltaïr’stimeHeyreddin:AssassininConstantinople
Hulagu,Khan:grandsonofGenghisKhan,1217–65Ibn-La’Ahad,Altaïr:MasterAssassinIbn-La’Ahad,Darim:Altaïr’seldestsonIbn-La’Ahad,Sef:Altaïr’syoungestsonIbn-La’Ahad,Umar:Altaïr’sfatherIlVolpe:memberoftheAssassinCouncilIrini:AssassininConstantinopleJanos:OttomanprisonerJuliusII,Pope:PopeandfriendtotheAssassins,1443–1513Juno:goddess,oneofThoseWhoCameBeforeJupiter:god,oneofThoseWhoCameBeforeKasim:AssassininConstantinopleKemalReis:PiriReis’suncleLuther:akaMartinLuther,priest,1483–1546Machiavelli,NiccolòdiBernardodei:philosopherandwriter,1469–1527Ma’Mun:shippingagentMehmedII,Sultan:previoussultanoftheOttomanEmpire,1432–81Minerva:goddess,oneofThoseWhoCameBeforeNazar:JanissarysoldierNikolos:guardOsman,Ahmet:Suleiman’suncleandBayezidII’seldestson,1465–1513Osman,Cem:BayezidII’sbrotherandpretendertothethrone,1459–95Osman,SelimI:Suleiman’sfatherandBayezidII’syoungestson,ca.1465–1520Osman,Suleiman:theprinceandgovernorofKefe,1494–1566Osman,SultanBayezidII:thecurrentsultan,Suleiman’sgrandfather,1447–1512Osman,Tomas:BayezidII’sbrotherPalaiologos,Constantine:lastByzantineemperorPalaiologos,Manuel:heirofthePalaiologosfamilyPaola:Assassinmadame,memberoftheAssassinCouncilPetros:soldierPiriReis:admiral,cartographer,bombmakerPolo,Maffeo:NiccolòPolo’sbrother,1252–1309Polo,Niccolò:journalwriter,Marco’sfather,1252–94Rosa:memberoftheAssassinCouncilSalai:Leonardo’sassistant
Sartor,Sofia:ladyingreenSforza,Caterina:CountessofForlìShahkulu:Manuel’sbodyguardShaoJun:ChineseAssassinSofian,Abbas:Altaïr’sformercomradeandMasterAssassinSofian,Ahmad:Abbas’sfatherTazim,Yusuf:leaderoftheAssassinsinConstantinopleTeragani:AssassininAltaïr’stimeThorpe,Maria:Altaïr’swifeVespucci,Amerigo:explorerandnavigator,1454–1512Vespucci,Cristina:Ezio’sformergirlfriendVilliersdeL’Isle-Adam,Philippe:memberoftheKnightsHospitalieratRhodes,1464–1534ZhuHuocong:theJiajingEmperor
GLOSSARYOFFOREIGNTERMS
ARABICbarakallahfeekGodblessyouhajjpilgrimagemasa’ilkhergoodeveningCHINESE(Mandarin)daoknifedashi,xièxièninthankyou,MentorduìbùqĭI’msorrylingchideathbyathousandcutsqiánChinesecurrencyFRENCHvendangevintageveraisonripeningGREEKapisteftounbelievableedáxiokayfíyeapóbrostámou!getoutofmyway!HristémoumyGodkouráyocouragepoikalàverygoodtidistihìawhatmiseryITALIANaldiavolotohellamoreloveaprestoseeyousoonarroccocastling(chessmove)bastardobastard
benegood,wellbisteccaallafiorentinaFlorentinesteakbruttimabuoniItaliancookiesbuffonejesterbuonadonnagoodwomanbuonaseragoodeveningbuongiornogooddaycanagliascoundrelcarciofinisott’olioartichokesinoilcastagnacciochestnutflourcakecazzoprick,shitchesuccede?what’shappening?DiomiomyGodduomodomeèincredibileit’sincrediblefettuntagarlicbreadfinitofinishedfratellomiomybrotherfuorioutgraziethankyouildiavolothedevilkoggeshiplevatricemidwifemaccaroininbroddopastasoupmagnetismomagnetismmeistermastermerdashitmesser/esirmiacaramydearmiomymiobelmenestrellomyhandsomeminstrelmolechesoft-shellcrabmoltocuriosoverycuriousnavigatorenavigatornessunproblemanoproblemnonmisorprendeI’mnotsurprisedpandiramerinorosemarybread
panzanellaFlorentinebreadpecorinocheeseperdonate,buonsignorepardonme,goodsirperfettoperfectpienadivitafulloflifepregopleasepresuntuosopresumptuousprincipeprinceraccoltoharvestragazzoboyrequiescatinpacerestinpeacerixotodegòricewithfishsalametoscanoTuscansalamisalsiccedicinghialewildboarsausagessaluteavoi,Assassinihealthtoyou,Assassinssalvehellosesoloifonlysìyessì,damoltotempoyes,alongtimesieursiresoldimoneyspaghettialloscoglioreefspaghettitesorotreasuretonnoalcartocciotunainfoilunatortura!torturevabenefineTURKISHadiherifbastard,pigaffedersiniz,efendimexcuseme,sirakçeTurkishcoinallahaismarladikgoodbyeAllahashkinainGod’snameamanAllahimohmyGodaynenoyleexactlybeylordbeyefendigentleman
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