TableofContents

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

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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

birseydegilyou’rewelcomeçoktesekkürederimthankyouverymuchçoküzüldümIamsosorryefendimsireffendimasterEkselânslariHisExcellencyevetyesgerzekidiotghaziholywarriorsgülegülegoodbyegüzelbeautifulhaydirastgelegoodluckinanilmazincrediblekanunlawkardeslerimbrothersandsisterskaresisquarekargasaturmoilkesinliklecertainlykoftameatballmerhabahellopekalawellpekgüzelverybeautifulprensprincesagliginizatoyourhealthsaraypalaceSayinMr.sehzademprinceserefecheerssharbatMiddleEasterndrinksinaviciniyisanslargoodluckonthetestsövalyeknighttesekkürederimthankyou

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

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