As they headed back towards the paved streets, screams caught their attention. In front of another mud-house a man was beating a woman, insulting her. Saif remembered Karuna's father doing the same to his children, but the scene was very familiar for Kilig too. Saif watched as Kilig marched on the couple.
The woman was crying and begging for mercy, and a couple of very small children ogled the scene from the house door. The man turned to them and raised his fist, ready to vent his anger at them as well, but Kilig grabbed his wrist and forced him to face him.
"What do you want?" the man snapped. "Stay out of this!"
"Never hurt a woman or a child," Kilig replied in a low, threatening voice, squeezing the man's wrist.
"Ha!" The other spat. "It's none of your business if my wife is a whore!"
"Then why marry her? It makes you feel powerful to beat her? Try it with me!"
"Stay out of this, boy..."
"I'm not a boy!"
Kilig's fist hit the man's face and bones cracked. Kilig shook his hand, regaining control. He looked at the woman who was hugging her children – a sobbing bunch of terrified creatures. The man had fallen to the ground, dazed.
"Would you like me to spare him or would you rather be a widow, free to remarry a better man or raise her children on her own?" he asked.
"Kill him before he kills us!" the woman begged through her sobs.
Kilig nodded. He took his dagger and knelt, putting his body between the fallen man and the children. The man grunted with anger, ready to hit back in spite of his bleeding nose, but Kilig slashed his throat open. The man collapsed – a quick, painless end for a man who deserved a much worse death.
"Thank you!" The widow grabbed his hand as he rose again and kissed it, wetting it with her tears. "Merciful stranger, may the gods bless you."
Kilig quickly bowed and retreated. He looked around, seemingly lost, and met Saif's eyes.
"Congratulations, you're a true assassin," Saif whispered, putting an arm around Kilig's shoulder and guiding him away from the slums. "Merciful Death. That's another name for us."
Kilig nodded, but he clearly had trouble putting his thoughts into words.
"Would you like to talk about it?" Saif asked as they walked back to the seat of the Guild.
"Yes. No." And then words started pouring out of his mouth, unstoppable. His buried sorrow, his sense of justice, excitement, fear, shame, all warred inside him.
They entered the Guild's building, still talking, and went upstairs to Saif's room. They sat on the double bed and Saif put his hands on Kilig's shoulders.
"Now take a deep breath and close your eyes."
Kilig obeyed.
"Release the air slowly. Relax."
But Kilig couldn't relax. He opened his eyes to look into Saif's.
"Are you feeling better?" Saif asked, worried. "This is a very strong experience and..."
Kilig threw his arms around Saif's neck and started kissing him hungrily. Saif gasped for breath, but there was no stopping Kilig's passion now. His resistance was futile. He should have known he couldn't stop himself from falling in love.
15.
Thus started another happy section of his life. Talwar gave them a double assignment and they left Godwalkar to head for Darantasia and Jevina, two city-states to the west of Godwalkar. That meant another year or two away from the Guild, but Saif didn't mind, since it allowed him to spend time with Kilig and get to know him better.
And fall harder for him, of course. Even though they pretended to be father and son, peddlers, while on the road, their nights were wilder than ever. Especially after Kilig had to kill for the second time, an assassin only by name who had been elected mayor of Darantasia. His background as prostitute almost made him fail and Saif wished he could have spared him the job.
Then they wasted a whole year in Jevina, trying to advise the local guild about what to do with their king. This gave Kilig the time to learn to read and write from another Genn half-blood, a scholar who used teaching to make ends meet.
Eventually Saif was so sick of being an adviser for something he couldn't care less about, that he waved good-bye to Jevina and headed back for Godwalkar with his beloved Kilig. Talwar congratulated Kilig for the job in Darantasia, then listened to Saif's report on the situation in Jevina. Talwar then informed Saif that in the meantime they had gotten rid of the king at Jevina and had elected a Genn council while he slowly traveled back to Godwalkar.
Saif retired with Kilig. The spartan bedroom with the double bed would become theirs until they found another place. Talwar had given them some time off and Saif had decided to learn to write at last – if Kilig taught him.
Two days later they were seated at one of the canteen's tables with quills and parchments when the doorkeeper told Saif he had a visitor. Puzzled, Saif put down the quill he couldn't handle as well as a throwing knife and went to the courtyard, followed by Kilig.
A blonde woman who looked vaguely familiar greeted Saif. She held the hand of a brown-haired child.
"Do you remember me?" she asked, a little worried.
"Of course, you're the northern witch who came to Godwalkar to complete her studies," Saif answered with a brief bow. It had been almost six years, but he couldn't forget that face. "How come you haven't gone back home?"
"I was trying to find you, Saif. This child is your son."
Kilig gasped. Saif blinked, startled by the revelation.
"I see." Saif spoke slowly, staring at the child who tentatively smiled at him. Big green eyes like his, not blue like his mother. Interesting. Did Francisca mention something about him having a son at some point?
"Saif, this can't be!" Kilig protested. "I thought you never touched a woman!"
"Not willingly, no. But things were confused that night at the inn," Saif answered, without looking at him. "She saved me, Kilig. Abhaya had poisoned me. I don't know how she healed me, but she's a wisewoman and I trust her."
"You called her a witch!"
"That's how she introduced herself." Saif looked at him. "I can't remember her name."
"Mirabella," she said quickly. "And you're correct, it's the healing process that put Hakeem in this world. He needs a father, Saif. Will you be his father?"
Saif knelt in front of the child so he wouldn't tower over him. "Hello, boy. What's your name?"
"Hakeem. You're my dad?"
"Apparently. You know you have a wonderful mom, don't you?"
The boy nodded eagerly. He was very cute.
How very interesting. Becoming a father for real after pretending for two years. Him with a child! Which was good, since he really didn't like babies. Hakeem looked old enough to interact with him though.
Saif realized Kilig was gone when he rose and turned around, looking for him.
"Your apprentice ran away," Mirabella said, serious. "You can complete his training, if you wish."
"Kilig's training is complete," Saif replied with a sigh. "He's twenty, and should be completely autonomous by now."
"So this one didn't try to poison you?"
"No, Kilig is my best student and I'm proud of what he's become."
She smiled ruefully.
"I'm sorry to take you away from your job, but your son needs you too, Saif. He's five already and I can't raise him on my own. And if I go back north with him and no husband, it will be even worse. I saved your life almost six years ago, it's now your turn to repay the favor."
Saif was conflicted. He loved Kilig, but he felt he owed Mirabella and her son – his son, who stared back at him with hopeful green eyes.
"Mirabella, you don't know who I am..."
"Lalima told me. How do you think I found you?"
"When did you meet Lalima?"
"I helped her give birth to Sanjana," Mirabella answered.
"Sanjana is my friend!" Hakeem quipped in. "And I like her dad!"
"Really?" Saif chuckled. "You know I grew up with him? Me and Aditya... we were inseparable!"
The boy's eyes widened in wonder.
And then Lalima came, and ruined everything, Saif thought, but he didn't say it. He looked at Mirabella.
"Allow me to say good-bye to Kilig," he said. "Where do you live?"
Mirabella gave him her address and left. Hakeem waved good-bye and Saif found himself returning the gesture with a grin. The little boy was adorable.
I'm over forty. I should retire from the Guild and take care of the family I never knew I had. I can move north, start a new life...
The pain in his chest reminded him of Kilig. If only he'd met someone like Kilig when he was younger... Sighing, he went back to the canteen, but Kilig wasn't there. He gathered the parchments and quills, since it was almost dinner time, and took them back to their room.
Kilig was there, curled up on the bed, his back to the door. He didn't move when Saif entered, but sniffed once.
Saif put away the writing materials, then sat on the bed and put one hand on Kilig's shoulder.
"Kilig..."
"You're dumping me. For a wench who made you drink and had sex with you."
"That's not how it went, Kilig," he chided. "Anyway, I'm a man of honor, and I won't refuse paternity duty."
"Of course not, but what about me?" Kilig's voice was sour. "What am I to you? Your apprentice? A surrogate son? What?"
My one and only love. But if he said it out loud, Kilig would never let him go. He sighed.
"Kilig, the age gap between us..."
"I don't care!" Kilig screamed, jumping up to be in Saif's face. "You're not my father, all right? You're the most wonderful man that ever lived and I love you..."
Saif hugged him, pressing Kilig's face against his chest to quieten him.
"Hush, Kilig. That's enough. I had warned you. Assassins are lonely people. That's why I'm giving back my weapons and my name, and I'm resigning from the guild. I wish you a long and happy life."
"Not without you!" Kilig moaned before starting to sob against him, drenching his tunic. "Saif, please, don't leave me..."
It took Saif all the strength and control he had learned through the years to pull Kilig away from him. He rose from the bed and gathered his things in silence, trying to ignore Kilig's desperate cries.
He exited the room and closed the door behind him. He stood still with his eyes closed, begging Kilig's forgiveness, then gulped down the lump in his throat.
He left his weapons in the armory, but didn't have the courage to stop by Talwar's office and tell him he was leaving on such a short notice. He'd ask Mirabella to write a letter for him before they left Godwalkar.
***
Another surprise was discovering Mirabella lived upstairs at Ramya's shop. Saif hadn't seen Ramya – who had become a midwife like her mother – in years. Ramya had been young when he'd become an assassin, and she'd had eyes only for Karan, hence she had no idea that Saif and Rohit were the same person.
He had changed and his beard made him unrecognizable in Ramya's eyes. Mirabella introduced him as Saif and he didn't correct her. It was better if Ramya ignored what Rohit had become. He doubted Karan ever told his girlfriend his assassin's name.
Ramya kept an eye on little Hakeem while Mirabella packed. The northern woman couldn't believe how many things she had amassed in almost six years in Godwalkar, but when the time came to leave she realized they'd need a cart to go back north.
Without flinching, Saif went to the market and bought a cart and a donkey to pull it while Mirabella thanked Ramya for everything she'd done for her. Then she climbed on the cart with Hakeem and their things, and Saif led the donkey through the streets of Godwalkar towards the northern road.
"Will you ride in the cart with us?" Mirabella asked when they were in open country, with the road going up and down the hills around Godwalkar.
"I don't want to tire the donkey," Saif answered without turning to look at her. "Besides, I'm used to walking. I bought the cart for you and the child."
"I can walk too," she grumbled, holding Hakeem closer on their rickety means of transportation.
Saif flashed a smile at her. "I know, but Hakeem's legs are too short to keep up. I'd have carried him on my shoulders all the way if we hadn't bought the cart."
"Can I ride you, Dad?" Hakeem asked, hopeful, straightening on the seat.
Saif chuckled. "Not today. But don't worry, we have a few days of journey ahead, when you see our donkey slow down, it means you've become too heavy for him."
"Saif, he's five and a big boy, you can't carry him," Mirabella chided.
Saif stopped and when the cart caught up with him, still pulled on by the donkey, he grabbed Hakeem to put him on his shoulders. The child screamed with joy as he resumed walking next to the donkey.
"Now, little lookout, keep an eye on the road ahead," he said. "If you see bandits or outlaws, kick me, and I'll put you back on the cart so I can defend you and your mom."
"Yes, Dad!" Hakeem answered cheerfully.
***
After a few days they entered the territory of the Blackmore Kingdom and then reached Mirabella's home village. People came out of the huts and cabins to see the dark-haired, green-eyed man accompanying the thought-lost shaman and wisewoman.
Saif discovered he couldn't communicate with some of the locals. Many were bilingual, like Mirabella, but not all. Hakeem had the same problem, but since he was only a child, he'd probably become bilingual soon – while Saif felt too old to learn a new language.
So here he was in a foreign land, unable to understand the local language, and he hadn't learned to read or write, so he wasn't at liberty to keep a correspondence with Nimdja and Francisca, unless he asked Mirabella to help him. And there were things he'd rather not discuss with her.
Saif didn't mind the village on the edge of the forest where Mirabella was born. As wisewoman she had inherited a cabin in a clearing not far from the village, but secluded enough to allow her and her patients some privacy.
He adapted to the north by becoming a woodcutter. Mirabella told everybody they were married, and he never contradicted her. The three of them slept in the same bed in the one-room cabin, which was good especially when winter came.
When the first snow covered the ground, Saif wished Kilig was still with him. He missed the young man very much and hoped he was doing fine. His only source of joy in the gray northern winter was Hakeem, who loved him as unconditionally as Kilig.
The little boy was used to playing alone and never clamored for attention like Abhaya had used to do. He had a set of wooden figurines, very detailed, done by an artisan who specialized in sculpted wood. They weren't really toys, but since Hakeem treated them like people, he hadn't ruined them at all.
Saif was glad to hear the figurines had been "a gift for his fourth birthday from Lalima and her partner" as Mirabella explained. He smiled and didn't bother correcting her, but knowing that Lalima and Aditya – or Francisca and Nimdja – had gifted his son with the figurines made him feel closer to his childhood friends.
When he watched Hakeem play with the warrior and the young wizard with long hair, ignoring a cleric with ample breasts, an old witch, a mighty paladin, and even an androgynous Genn with his pointed ears and a Sila with his wings folded, Saif wondered about his son. If Hakeem was aware that he was putting two males together, which seemed to upset his mother a great deal.
Hakeem was a bright, cheerful child, and Mirabella a wise young woman. Saif settled in his new life as husband and father – although he never actually married Mirabella and couldn't remember making love to her – trying to forget Kilig the Sword.
16.
Time started crawling on him again, although he had Hakeem's growth to keep him grounded. Seasons were even more marked up north – snow in winter and milder summers – and the loss of his beloved wasn't as bad as when Prem had died.
Sometimes he pondered both relationships. The youthful passion he'd shared with Prem had almost killed him when his lover had been killed, and what he felt for Ki
lig was as strong, but clearly less damaging to him.
He had grown up himself, and maybe a part of him never really believed that someone like Kilig could love him like he did. Sometimes he thought he had run away from happiness because he couldn't handle it, after settling in a sort of limbo for years.
It wasn't too bad to be back in that loveless situation. He was over forty and didn't feel the need for romantic love. He was always a loner – never really making new friends besides Aditya or the Guild's members – and didn't care that most people around him didn't speak his language.
Hakeem grew in height and weight, a happy-go-lucky boy who tried to fit in the nearby village, but was often rejected by his peers because they considered him "the witch's son." As if it was his fault that Mirabella was a wisewoman who had saved more than one life.
About ten years went by and Saif kept cutting wood and doing small tasks for the village, staying mostly in the cabin he shared with Mirabella and Hakeem. The teen had blossomed into a handsome one and Saif had noticed that one of the girls, Corabella, didn't care if he was the witch's son. He observed, amused, his son's interaction with his peers, and ignored Mirabella's suggestion to give him The Talk.
He saw no reason to have any kind of talk with his son. Nobody had talked to him when he'd come of age. He had discovered everything with the help of Aditya and he was certain Hakeem could do the same with Lenoel, Branwen and the other boys and girls of the village.
But then one day he found Hakeem seated by the stream behind the house, hugging his knees, clearly on the verge of tears. Surprised, he sat next to him and asked him what was wrong.
"Corabella, she has a crush on me." Hakeem sniffled. "Leonel kept teasing, saying I'm too shy, so I told him I'm not interested in her but want him instead."
Saif's heart started beating faster. His son was very much like him. This reminded him of one particular talk with Aditya, about Lalima's crush on him. He smiled at the memory.
Hakeem glanced at him and seemed reassured by his unexpected reaction.
Saif's Story Page 10