Roots ch. 15

Kostantiniyye
1500

Bajram did not return in two months. Yusuf didn't even receive any word from him until one month had passed, at which time he learned that Bajram's mother had indeed died from her illness, just as he'd reached Acre. Yusuf issued his own condolences as well as that of the Order, knowing that Bajram's return would take longer than he had initially thought. Despite living so far from his family further East, Bajram had always remained incredibly close to them, particularly to his mother. Yusuf knew she had been his rock in difficult times, as evidenced by the volume of letters and parchments from her, which lay scattered around Bajram's bedchamber.

He'd been right. Yusuf finally received word four months after Bajram left that he was on his way back. It coincided with the day Yusuf and Seref sat down to have a talk, which Yusuf had later left feeling dazed and disoriented. The relationship between the two had been strained since the events of Yusuf's thirty-first birthday. It was at its worst for the first two weeks – the Assassins couldn't pass each other in the hallway of their Galata den without dropping their gaze. Yusuf felt ashamed for letting his drunken urges get the best of him – what had he been thinking, letting himself get physically involved with Seref? With a fellow Assassin?? Why hadn't he chased Silki instead, or that pretty red-head Bajram had asked to join them?

Sitting at the desk in his study, Yusuf gave a heavy sigh that ended in a muffled growl. Now he was in far over his head. Over the last week he'd found himself in desperate need of advice from his long-time closest friend. But he wasn't about to burden Bajram with his own problems, while the other Assassin was still grieving over the death of his mother and caring for his bereaved family.

In a way, Yusuf thought himself lucky. His mother died when he was still fairly young. While it hurt him a lot as a child, and he continued to find himself missing her every day, he had healed from the sharp sting of the pain a long time ago. Now Baj was going through the same thing, albeit, also with siblings, nephews and nieces to care for. Yusuf wished he could have taken the time to visit him and help out, but with tension in Constantinople being at an all-time high, he couldn't leave for a day, much less a few weeks.

Yusuf brought his forehead down to rest against the desk, and closed his eyes. The Byzantines were taking increasingly greater strides against the Assassins. True, there were not many of them, but recently they'd been sending out small teams to try and track down and capture Yusuf's men and women. So far there had only been a few close calls, but it was only a matter of time until someone made a mistake (as often happens with inexperienced recruits) and found themselves locked in a prison cell. Yusuf worked day and night to ensure this did not happen, coordinating with the mercenaries and the thieves to keep the Byzantines as preoccupied as possible.

Yusuf sat back up again, taking a moment to unroll one of the new messages just delivered to him that morning. He smiled. Iyi , finally; some welcome news. According to the cargo ship's schedule, Bajram should be arriving back in Kostantiniyye in two day's time. Yusuf planned to meet him there on the docks as the vessels pulled in early that morning.

They had much to talk about.

**

Yusuf jumped, hurtling himself headlong into the air. He reached out with his right arm, extending the sharpened metal hook from his bracer. It met with the rope, keeping the Assassin from plummeting to the crowded streets below. Yusuf fought the wind for his breath. Each zipline decent was as exhilarating as the last. Yusuf had been performing these aerial maneuvers for years, and they had yet to lose their thrill. Somehow, the Assassin doubted they ever would.

His feet hit the warm brick of the rooftop and he broke into a run. He was late to meet Bajram – a shoddy group of Byzantine rats had banded together and managed to take over one of the southern dens, far from the Galata headquarters. The distance made it particularly difficult to defend properly, and Yusuf had been reluctant to launch a counter-attack with so little preparation. He'd been scouting the area with Casimiro and Nasim when they had come under attack by the thugs. Both had escaped without any injury, but the misadventure had set him greatly behind for the day. Leaving Casi and Nasim to finish the investigation, Yusuf made haste to journey back to Galata.

He cursed as he ran, feet thudding loudly against the sun-warmed rooftops. It was far later in the day then he would have liked. If Bajram was no longer at the docks, Yusuf supposed he would head to the main den first thing. The Assassin slowed, taking a moment to catch his breath. It was likely he'd already missed his friend come in… He began to contemplate returning to the den to meet Baj there instead, when he heard angry voices floating up from the street below. He drifted over to the side, leaning over the edge. His eyes widened – Bajram! And he was engaged in a fight between what seemed to be several fairly armored men dressed in red, their simple robes baring the Byzantine crest. And he wasn't fairing too well, from the looks of it.

"Damned Assassin cur!" The head officer snarled, gesturing angrily as his men attacked their already wounded opponent. "Onu indir!" The soldiers closed in, while Bajram, grasping tightly onto a bleeding arm, glared at them all warily. He gripped his small sword in his free hand, although the blood loss he'd experienced made it difficult for him to hold onto it very tightly. Still, when the first man struck out at him, Bajram managed to bring his blade up to bare just in time. He backed away, wincing in pain as the soldiers continued to close in.

He was spared from what would likely be a gruesome onslaught when a similarly-robed figure leaped from the rooftop above, planting his booted feet into the shoulder blades of the nearest Byzantine thug, flattening him before finishing him off with a single thrust of his hidden blade. Yusuf stood, bracing himself against the three remaining attackers. His eyes didn't dare flicker away from the advancing figures.

"I think you know what to do."

Bajram reached into his sash and pulled out two small, bronze spheres. He hefted them with his uninjured arm; within seconds, the soldiers were enveloped in a cloud of thick, black smoke. Yusuf went to work, using his hookblade and dagger to slice through each and every one of the guards. The Captain was the last to fall – he gapped wordlessly up at the Assassin, eyes wide and sightless, a pool of blood spreading beneath his torn and ragged body. Yusuf sheathed his blades and made haste to Bajram's side, taking his arm.

"Somehow, I do not think this was not the greeting you had in mind."

"Cok komik, Yusuf." He coughed, palm pressed against his chest. Yusuf frowned, looking over his friend with a critical eye.

"You were wounded prior to this attack. What happened?"

"The cargo ship I arrived on was attacked this morning by pirates. There were...a lot of them." He coughed again, wincing at the pain in his side.

"So I see. You are sporting something of an interesting bruise on your head..."

"Ever the joker."

Yusuf clicked his tongue. "Not when it comes to your health, brother." He took Bajram's pain-free shoulder, letting the slightly older man lean against him as much as he needed to. Bajram exhaled sharply.

"I could use a drink, Yusuf." He grumbled.

"Trust me – that doesn't always work out so well." Yusuf muttered in reply. "Listen...when we reach the den...we need to talk."

"Anything. So long as I can have a cup and a hookah in front of me." Despite himself, Yusuf managed a weary smile. May Baj always remain Baj.

"Tabii ki."

They arrived back at the Galata headquarters just before midday. Yusuf let Bajram greet Seref and Nazim (apparently the rest of her and Casi's investigation had gone without anymore problems) before he informed Bajram rather firmly that he needed to be tended to in his chamber. Seref straightened up – she'd been looking over Bajram's injuries with a practiced eye.

"I will meet you there."

"Seref..." Yusuf struggled to come up with the right words. "Lütfen. Give us a little time. I promise I am capable of bandaging Baj's arm." Seref blinked, then furrowed her brow ever so slightly.

"Of course.."

Yusuf nodded and helped Bajram to stand. The other Assassin protested a little, but quieted as Yusuf guided him carefully up the stairs, apparently lost in his own thoughts. Yusuf recalled that he hadn't even asked Bajram about his family; so concerned was he over his own problems, he'd forgotten that Bajram's also needed tending to. The two made their way up the stairs in uncharacteristic silence, Yusuf supporting his injured friend all the way. They reached the top and Bajram let out a small groan from the effort. Yusuf helped him over to his cot, letting him sit down. He knelt beside him, carefully pushing up Bajram's sleeve and taking a look at the damaged arm.

"These cuts aren't long, but they are fairly deep." He furrowed his brow, taking a closer look. Bajram flinched noticeably.

"They're fine.. I made it here, evet?" Yusuf arched a brow.

"Barely." He ignored Bajram's sharp scowl and put pressure on the cuts, giving Baj a pointed look as the other Assassin inhaled sharply and jerked his arm away. Yusuf stood up, brushing off his robe.

"I am going to wrap it. And don't argue with me." He fetched the gauze while Bajram sat in silence, prodding at his aching arm. Yusuf sat himself down once more, taking great care to bandage the wounds. His first aid skills might not be as developed as Seref's, but he could certainly manage his own in a pinch. He worked in silence for a minute, letting the quiet build.

"...I am sorry about your mother, Baj." He said finally, keeping his eyes steady on his work. He felt Bajram draw in a deep breath.

"...I know you were close."

"I would receive a letter from her almost every week. Allah bless her, she never ran out of things to say." Bajram spoke softly, lowering his eyes. Yusuf was pained.

"I told my sisters I would be back in six months. Sooner, if anyone else shows signs of the illness. My brother Hadi is caring for them as best he can. But he is so young. He is barely eighteen. Still a child." The Assassin shifted tiredly, resting his now thoroughly wrapped arm lightly on his knee. Yusuf listened, content to let him speak. Bajram took a slow, aching breath.

"You know my father died many years ago. Now my siblings have no one." Bajram's voice sounded so wounded – so raw and yet, empty. Yusuf swallowed, slowly standing.

"They have you, Baj. As long as an Assassin is watching out for them, your brother and sisters will never truly be alone." Bajram glanced at him, quietly contemplating his words for a time.

"...sanırım. Perhaps you are right." Yusuf chuckled softly, despite himself.

"I know I am right, arkadaşım. Now listen." Yusuf sat back down and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands drooping between them. "You recall the little party you threw for me on my birthday. The four of us." He knew by the slow grin taking shape on the face of his friend that Bajram did, indeed, remember.

"I am afraid that...something has happened."

"Ey, Yusuf – I believe they call it a hangover. You get a little used to it in time."

"It's not that. It's...Seref and I..."

Bajram's eyes grew wide. "Biliyordum! You sly dog! You didn't!" Yusuf rubbed the back of neck, chuckling weakly.

"I'm afraid we did more than that, brother." He replied warily, shoulders sagging. Bajram's cocky grin slowly disappeared. He paled almost as much as Yusuf had when he first heard the news from Seref herself.

"You...she's pregnant??..."

"Apparently four months, now." Yusuf said heavily. He really wished Bajram would close his jaw – and his shocked stare wasn't helping matters, any.

"But...it was only once..."

"Evet, well; apparently that is enough." Came the dry response.

"What else have you done?"

"I have taken measures to keep her here as much as possible." He spread his hands to indicate their protective headquarters. Bajram seemed to have forgotten all of his own problems, focusing on the seemingly more dire ones of his friend.

"You know she cannot be an Assassin, Yusuf." He warned. "Her being even here is dangerous."

"Believe me, I know..."

"Yes, but does she?"

Yusuf nodded dully. That had not been a pleasant conversation. Bajram leaned back on his cot, his good hand trailing back to his heavily bandaged arm.

"I...I cannot believe it. You, Yusuf...siring children?"

The slightly younger Assassin suddenly took on a more defensive tone, brow furrowed indignantly.

"Kusura bakmayın?" Yusuf demanded to know. "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" Bajram grinned, slapping his friend's shoulder.

"It means I cannot believe you are going to be a father! Albeit, the timing is inconvenient, but– "

"It is something I never dreamed would happen." Yusuf said slowly, thoughtfully mulling over his own words. "Not for many years, anyway."

"Yusuf, you always knew you would be an Assassin your entire life." Bajram smiled, leaning far back on his good elbow, the other propped carefully against the thin mattress of his cot. "I don't know if you would ever be able to become a family man. I, on the other hand...I would like to have an aile someday. A wife, and a few children of my own." He trailed off, staring up at the ceiling of his bedchamber. Yusuf grinned.

"You always were something of a romantic, Baj. Pity that you're too homely to make any woman a decent husband."

"Ey – you are lucky that I am injured." Bajram replied darkly, eyes throwing daggers in Yusuf's direction. He only chuckled, standing up from his seat.

"Get some rest. You've had a long journey, friend. There will be plenty of time later to find a woman who can stand you long enough to bear children."

**

Anayis hummed quietly to herself, feeling free to bask in the warm glow of the Istanbul sun. The other Assassins may have referred to her Galata patrol as boring, but Anayis loved it. She loved the calm days and sleepy nights in the most northern section of the city. Galata, more than any other district in Kostantiniyye, belonged almost solely to the Assassins. Sure there were the few Byzantines that dared to tread on Assassin turf (as evidenced by Bajram's recent arrival back to town), but they were relatively few and far between. The worst trouble Anayis usually found herself dealing with was the odd street scuffle or noisy disagreements between merchants. Most people would be surprised of what a mere bookseller was capable of if he felt another vender was closing in on his clients.

Of course, the assignment didn't say anything good about her abilities. Anayis was well-aware that she was not amongst the fastest, the strongest, nor the most intelligent of the Order. But she was loyal, and she was determined. And in the meantime, she took joy in the tasks she was given.

The afternoon was a particularly quiet one. She strolled through the few markets located close to the docks, having come down from her perch on the rooftops to purchase a small helping of warm bazlama as a late lunch.

Before she knew it, a sharpened knife was at her throat. Anayis sucked in a breath but dared not move. She felt her wavy, dark-colored hair gently brushed back behind her shoulder, and she shuddered when a deep, sick-sounding voice rasped in her ear.

"A pleasurable afternoon, no? And here I thought Assassins spent all their time hiding on rooftops." He chuckled. His laugh sounded like an ailing dog gasping for its last breath. Anayis felt her stomach roll.

"But here I see one has dared to join the rest of us flea-ridden, grubby-handed slobs." Careful to keep his blade pressed against the girl's throat, her forced Anayis to turn around. She found herself staring into the eyes of a Byzantine Captain – a tall, heavy-set man covered in armor. He was flanked by two fellow soldiers, one of which circled around her and took her roughly by the shoulders. She swallowed hard but said nothing.

"You understand that I would like nothing more than to cut your throat where you stand." He commented, almost idly. "However, I would be willing to spare your miserable, cowardly life if you do but a brief favor for me." Anayis forced herself to meet his black eyes.

He continued.

"Only this morning, my brother was murdered by one of your own." Both his hands curled into fists, and for a moment Anayis believed he was going to hold her accountable and pummel her senseless right there. But eventually the tenseness disappeared.

"He was killed for following his commands. Slain in the line of duty. And as I have received word, one Yusuf Tazim is responsible." He smiled sickeningly at Anayis' knowing reaction.

"Ah..." He breathed, the stench strong enough to make the girl choke. "So you know of this. Good..." He slipped his arm behind her head, forcefully grabbing a thick wad of her hair. Her head jerked back and she flinched in pain, crying out as his fingers entwined themselves tightly. He spoke, slowly.

"I want you to bring me this man. I don't care who he is, and I don't care what your relationship to the maggot is. I imagine you will be compliant, when I threaten to track down every single person you love and watch their blood flow away at my feet. Every. Single. One." He jerked her head with each of his last three words, causing Anayis' eyes to well up with hot tears.

"You don't...don't know..."

"Oh I know plenty." The Captain continued, fainting amusement. "The location of your precious den, here in Galata. In fact, as I speak my men are gathering in place for a full-on assault. Not one miserable Assassin life will be sparred, I can assure you that much." He took great pleasure in her terrified expression, before continuing.

"...unless, of course, you bring me but one man. The life of that cowardly worm, for that of my brother." He made a disgusted face. "It's hardly a fair trade, but a complete slaughter will only panic the rest of the wretched souls in this forsaken city." He noted bitterly. "So I leave the decision up to you. Either way, I will be satisfied." He let go of her hair, nodding to the soldier holding the girl by the arms. They returned dutifully to their Commander's side.

"And just in case you feel the need to warn your brothers and sisters," He continued briefly. "If I catch word that you've leaked this to anyone, I will go ahead with Plan B." He grasped her chin in his hand, tightening his grip until she squeaked in pain.

"Evet. I am glad we understand each other." He let go of her roughly, and Anayis reached up to tenderly rub her aching jaw. She looked at the man through pained eyes. She hated herself to the very core for doing what she was about to do. But she couldn't let him bring any harm to Yusuf. She saw only one way to prevent that from happening.

"I will bring him to you." She drew a shaky breath. "He's been injured and is weak. You...won't be able to miss him."

"Good, good." The Captain gave an ugly sneer. "Then go. Now."

Anayis turned and ran. Tears stung her eyes, blinding her. She stumbled but righted herself out, feet pounding against the cobblestone street just as the blood pounded in her ears. Her breath hitched as she ran and a harsh sob forced its way out.

Forgive me, Bajram.





**

onu indir – put him down
çok komik – very funny
tabii ki – of course
evet – yes
biliyordum – I knew it
kusura bakmayın – excuse me
aile - family
bazlama – Turkish bread dish