xymnovel Chapter 16 Witness
Chapter 16 Witness
Assassins' figure had disappeared among the courtyard pillars, but Lyon remained rooted to the spot, unconsciously repeating the name in Greek.
Tyre...Tyr...
That ancient Levantine port, once under the Roman banner, and having sent envoys to the East, even receiving the "golden seal and purple ribbon" from Emperor He of Han. How could an Assassin apprentice, with blood on his hands, name such a city, a city that bears the weight of past glories of East and West...?
Atallo... Atatürk.
This damned homonym, is it just a coincidence? A vague fragment of memory from another world seemed to flicker in my mind.
"Smack."
A dry twig tapped him lightly on the forehead, interrupting his thoughts. He looked up and saw Yage leaning against the twig, raising an eyebrow at him.
"Kid," Accord said irritably, "everything's been sitting here muttering in Greek ever since that scoundrel left. What happened to your Arabic? Have you even memorized all ten words?"
Lyon snapped out of his reverie and looked at Jacob with a probing gaze: "Father, I was just about to ask you something. You were the one who questioned him relentlessly, pressing him with every word, so why aren't you curious about his background now?"
Accord threw the branch aside, dusted off his hands, and put on a nonchalant expression.
"I was just curious at first," he shrugged, "but now I believe him to some extent."
Why?
"Because just now, when he took off that killer's face and didn't know what to do..." Accord glanced at Leon, slowly drawing out his words, "that look in his eyes was exactly the same as when you're spacing out and acting silly."
He took a step closer and said with a smile, enunciating each word clearly:
"They all exude a kind of naive stupidity."
The lingering echo of Accord's phrase "clear-eyed stupidity," along with the two men's teasing laughter, drifted away in the evening breeze that was gradually rising in the Al-Azhar courtyard. The setting sun cast long, slanting shadows on the stone corridor, and the once bustling study group had now receded like the tide, leaving only a few scattered figures.
"Let's go, kid," Jacob dusted off his robe and scooped Leon up from the ground. "If we don't go back now, the inn won't have any rooms left for us."
They strolled out of the university's tall archway with the dispersing crowd. Cairo's twilight was rapidly swallowing the daytime clamor; the air still held the lingering warmth of the sun's rays, mingling with the rising smoke from the night market. Shops along the street lit their oil lamps, casting warm, shimmering halos of light onto the cobblestones.
In the languid twilight, the smile that had not yet faded from Lyon's face suddenly froze.
His gaze cut through the bustling crowd and landed on a figure about ten paces away—a white figure walking unhurriedly along the street. The figure was no different from the citizens around him dressed in robes of various colors, but a chill ran down Lyon's spine.
That white robe... no, that's not right.
It was unlike the apprentice's robe in Atari, which was so plain it was almost shabby. Even in the dim light, one could see the perfect fit of its cut and the smooth drape of the fabric, with what appeared to be subtle, delicate patterns. It was so clean that it seemed out of place on this dusty street, like a snowflake that shouldn't have fallen here.
"Father..." Leon's voice was soft, but his hand unconsciously tightened around Accord's sleeve.
Accord was casually glancing at a barbecue stall by the roadside when he was pulled back impatiently. "What now...?"
His words trailed off. Following Leon's gaze, he too saw the white figure. Accord's languid expression vanished instantly, replaced by a sharp look in his eyes.
"Damn it," he muttered, "it won't go away."
He instinctively tried to pull Leon in the opposite direction, but stopped midway. He squinted, staring intently at the disappearing figure. "No... this robe isn't that apprentice's coarse cloth."
Another Assassin? A senior figure whose status is higher than that of an apprentice?
An impulse, a mixture of fear and immense curiosity, seized them.
"Keep up," Accord said in a hoarse voice, pulling Leon into the thinning crowd.
They maintained a dangerous distance, watching the white figure, as if familiar with the place, finally step into the gate of a public bathhouse. The rising steam, carrying fragrance and body odor, assaulted their senses, instantly blurring their vision.
"Take off your robe," Jacob whispered, quickly tearing off his own clothes, then helping Leon take his off as well. "Here, wearing clothes is more conspicuous than carrying a knife."
Lyon felt a sudden unease amidst the naked crowd, but Accord had already slipped inside like a fish. They searched laboriously in the rising steam, using the stone pillars and the crowd as cover, and finally locked onto their target again in a corner of a semi-open private room.
He was talking to a shirtless Arab man. The distance was too great; their words were drowned out by the sound of water and the echoes. Only the man's face, a mixture of anxiety and pleading, could be seen, his hands gesturing frantically. Finally, as if making a decision, he carefully pulled a handkerchief from the folds of his waistband.
Accord's breath hitched. The moment the handkerchief was unfolded, it revealed a jewel whose brilliance shone even in the dim light. Its unique color and size instantly struck a chord with his memory.
"Damn it," he practically spat out, pulling Leon closer and whispering urgently in his ear, "Look at that stone... doesn't it look exactly like the one that dead Hakim had on his belt?"
Just as they were reeling from this discovery, the situation on the other side suddenly changed. Assassin seemed to have lost patience with the man's persistent advances, or perhaps his deal was done. The man, agitated, even made a gesture as if to kneel—
The response was a short, precise flash of cold metal that sprang from under the assassin's wrist.
It silently plunged into the man's throat, severing all his pleas and fear. Assassin, expressionless, steadied the limp body, deftly retrieving the emerald-wrapped handkerchief from between the stiff fingers, and then gently pushed the corpse into the bathtub. The murky water churned a few times before settling down, as if nothing had happened. Assassin, as if merely brushing away a speck of dust, calmly turned and disappeared into the rising steam.
The entire process took only a few heartbeats; it was efficient and ruthless, creating a chilling contrast with the surrounding tranquil and languid atmosphere.
"Let's go!" Accord snapped out of his daze and tugged at the still-stunned Leon. They quickly retreated into the shadows of the changing room, their hearts pounding.
"A madman..." Jacob gasped, his voice suppressed. "While that apprentice was still lost and uncertain about the future, this guy... he killed people as if he were picking a flower from his own garden."
"Why didn't he drown him?" Leon's voice trembled. "Like the Artyros we're used to doing? Wouldn't that have been quieter?"
“Because it’s unnecessary.” Jacob’s eyes were serious. “To him, silencing someone in a crowd is no different than silencing someone in the water. He’s confident that no one can catch him, and no one dares to identify him. He’s not on the same level as Artyro at all.”
Once his breathing had calmed down, Jacob gestured for Leon to keep watch at the door, while he took a deep breath and submerged back into the misty place. He approached the bath with feigned nonchalance, his gaze quickly sweeping over the corpses floating in the water.
That face... was contorted with pain, yet it also possessed an eerie familiarity.
Accord's brow furrowed, his memory flashing back to Hakim's luxurious drawing room... the guards... the numerous guards standing beside Hakim. Yes, though they had removed their armor, they were clearly among Hakim's guards!
He stepped back without making a sound, returning to Lyon's side with an unusually grave expression.
"We seem to be caught up in a bigger conspiracy," he whispered, pulling Leon away from the scene of trouble. "The one who died was Hakim's guard. And the Assassin who killed him took Hakim's jewels."
"This means that the assassination of Hakim was essentially... an internal purge."