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Crimson Blade Chapter 3Altair watched from the shadows as Quamir al sahd, a slave trader, examined his latest import of slaves. Now was the time to strike! Altair quickly checked his weapons one last time. When Quamir turned to gaze into the shadows where his death awaited he saw nothing of the assassin hiding there, only shadows. Perhaps he had heard the slight intake of breath or the barely audible click of Altairs' blade as it slid into the base of his glove. Whatever had caused Quamirs' paranoia quickly passed as he shrugged and turned to finish his examination.
" Take this one out." He snapped at one of his guards. they bowed and pulled a struggling woman out of a cage to Altairs' left. Altair silently assessed the woman in the dim candle light. Black, no brown hair. Her face was covered in grime and her large eyes told him that she was scared beyond wits end. She was tantalizingly familiar. A spark lit a fire in his mind and Altair gasped. He recognized her alright, she was Ahda, his wife.
" Such a bea
Crimson Blade Chapter 2Altair slowly walked through the streets of Jerusalem. The guards were being particularly nosey, or more than usual anyway. That ass Merrick didn't think he had enough information. So hard to reason with him, that man can hold a grudge. He sighed and cursed when he heard the "pleasant" shouts from the guards behind him.
He turned around to see what all the shouts were about. He already knew, it was all to obvious. The sword on his hip and blade on his back were just screaming Assassin. Luckily some of the guards were either too stupid enough or slow enough to think he was a well armed monk. Some not all. Like these ones for example. Altair burst into a sprint and knocked down some stalls, ran down a few beggars, until he decided that he'd been leading them on long enough.
Altair whirled around. The guards were still there, albeit all the way ay the end of the street. He sighed, exasperated.
Do these guys ever give up, he thought as he rushed into a back alley.
He could still hear the c
Of Snake Charmers and TreesThere are mathematicians
that calculate the gravitational
pull that tethers us to one another,
teasing sense out of the fabric
of Time and Space like
wizened snake charmers.
I thought them so horribly
unromantic, searching for
logic amidst wildflowers-
reasoning being reason enough
to put one foot in front
of the other each day.
True beauty lay printed
on petals and pages,
where I delved for pearls;
the patterns in the pathos
intriguing me into each
rising of the sun.
I do not remember when
it occurred to me that
without fractals there would
be no trees, nor without love
would people have any reason
to calculate the distances that
separate them from their muses.
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