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Coast of England, 1870
“Daniyal, can you see it?”
His sister’s voice carried on the brisk sea wind, the same wind that had attempted to knock his notebook out his hands multiple times this morning. He refused to look up. He was fully aware he would get nothing done if he joined Asha in her every distraction.
“See what?”
He let out something resembling both a gasp and a yelp as Asha snatched the notebook from his hands; his pencil leaving drawn out line across the paper. He frowned at the culprit.
Asha snickered in amusement at her brother’s expression. “Wake up, you oaf. Look at this view.”
He shook his head and craned his neck to look over the railing, after which he finally stood up to lay eyes on England for the first time in his life. The cold air and occasional sprays of seawater were long forgotten. He moved to get a better view, joining a few of his fellow passengers alongside the railing, where his hands touched the cold steel as he leaned forward. It was a clear enough day, for he would not be able to see the cliffs otherwise. He chuckled softly. For the past weeks, they had seen half the world, but it never failed to amaze him.
He turned eagerly to see his sister’s reaction. Asha had kept her distance ever so slightly; she was too proud to admit it, but he had notice her nerves around the ship. Nonetheless, he gestured for her to come closer. And never one to walk away from a challenge, she crossed her arms and walked towards him.
“There you go,” Daniyal said.
“Not a word.”
She looked out over the sea, a faint smile on her lips.
Daniyal instinctively reached for his pocket watch and pulled a face when he found nothing but empty space on the inside of his coat.
“It might be a bad idea to mention to father I lost his precious pocket watch somewhere in Port Said?”
Asha shook her head and flapped her hand dismissively. “Please, he will buy you three new ones.”
“I don’t think I can push it that far.” He straightened his coat out of nervous habit.
She made a noise that, in her mind, undoubtedly sufficed as a worthy reply. It was no secret her decision to leave Bombay was not made entirely willingly. In their weeks of traveling, the topic of home was rarely brought up, and when it was, Asha had shut it down quick as ever.
He never took her for the kind of person to be homesick sooner than him. Then again, they had never left home, so it was anyone’s guess as to how either of them would feel. As the ship continued to rock back and forth, he reminisced about their departure some weeks ago. Along with the pocket watch, their father had gifted his son a sizeable number of books on a variety of topics, which Daniyal gladly made use of during their travels. The history books were a quick read, though one of the books on botany had caught his particular attention. Now at the end of the journey to England, it was carefully tucked away among his luggage; the pages significantly worse for wear, and adorned with copious notes in the margins.
The most predominant gift his father had given Asha, however, was advice. Or, as his sister would likely have put it, “another one of his superfluous lectures.”
“Look after yourself, and your brother. You are still the eldest. I will not be there to patch either of you up, so do not be reckless in your actions. And please treat the Fryes with respect, they’re not your fellow apprentices—“
Asha huffed. “I did not realize we were apprentices, father.”
“And how many times must I ask you not to interrupt your elders?”
Daniyal briefly met his sister’s gaze and he shook his head, laughing silently. Stern as their father could be, both of them knew he never truly resented Asha for her brash attitude, no matter how much he tried to hide it.
She finally let him speak, nodding in agreement to any orders that were assuredly to be ignored the very instant she left their parents’ sight. He admired her stoicism, though he did not fail to see her wiping away a tear when she said her final goodbyes to their mother.
The siblings may have been eager to see more of the world; Daniyal knew very well that Asha would miss India. As of right now, it was even apparent in the way she wrapped her shawl around herself, frowning at the latest gust of wind blowing in her face. She was still holding his notebook.
“Can I have that back?”
Asha looked at his precious notebook and Daniyal groaned as a smirk spread across his sister’s face. “You’ll have to catch me first.”
He attempted to grab the book from her, only for her to sidestep with ease.
“By all the- Asha—“
She laughed triumphantly, turned, and hurried away, and he followed. Any homesickness and their father’s instructions were left behind at sea.
Whitechapel, 1870
Asha squinted at a sign that read Cavell St, none the wiser than before, and crossed her arms. The two of them had halted at a street corner shortly after arriving at Whitechapel Station.
Daniyal was adamant he could find the way himself, and Asha had let him, though with some reluctance. She greatly regret her decision, sinking down on her own travel trunk. People passed them by; some shot curious glances but none stopped to help. “Cold and unhelpful and boring,” she had bemoaned quietly to Daniyal earlier.
“Jayadeep’s letter mentioned something about Spitalfields,” she said as she turned to her brother.
He mouthed the word ‘Spitalfields’ several times while turning the map of the city in his hands. His hair was more disheveled than usual.
A laugh escaped her lips at the sight. “Enjoying yourself?”
“Immensely.” He sighed deeply and lowered the map. “I haven’t been this lost since you got turned around in the new district.”
“Me? Whose idea was that in the first place?”
Daniyal frowned and his eyes flicked to the same street sign, before folding open the map again. “I’ll never hear the end of that, will I?”
“No.”
“As I recall, you cried when the authorities questioned us.”
Asha reached to nudge him in the side with her elbow. “You know that was a ruse.”
“M-hm, of course,” he mumbled, in a tone that eerily resembled their father, only higher pitched. He gasped abruptly as he looked up from the map, and pointed to a nearby alley. “That way.”
“I pray that you’re right, I’m tired of wheeling this thing around.” She stood up. “You know that we could have gone by coach?”
“There is no fun in that. We have to explore, don’t we?”
She would have preferred exploring after a proper night’s rest and wearing different shoes, but she refrained from wounding her brother’s pride after this small victory.
They made their way across the street and past a printer’s shop, into the alleyway. The skies grew darker as Daniyal prattled on about London being the center of the modern world, and Asha could only wonder if they would be at their lodgings before it started raining. The paved cobblestones became more uneven and caked in dirt as they continued through the alley. She sighed and brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, firmly deciding this was the last time she would let her little brother take the lead. Her gaze lingered on a young girl, barely ten years of age, who disappeared from view as soon as she noticed Asha.
Still looking behind her, she bumped into Daniyal.
“Ow, what—“
“Something’s wrong. See that man?”
To the untrained eye, the man in question would not have attracted any attention whatsoever. Asha noticed his posture was all but subtle or natural. His shoulders were broad, though he only barely reached Daniyal in height. A bowler hat obscured his features while he leaned against the windowsill of one of the many old homes cramped together, and lit up a cigarette. Instinctively, her hand shot to her left arm to feel her hidden blade fit snugly underneath her sleeve, as it always did.
“I think he’s been following us since we got off the train,” Daniyal muttered.
Asha scoffed. “Welcoming committee, I see. Let me talk to him.”
“No, don’t— Remember what father said—“
She pulled her shoulders back and strode away from her brother, to the mysterious figure.
Exaggerating her natural accent, she spoke: “Excuse me, good sir, my brother and I are lost. Could you help us?”
“Hm. Where’re you going, lass?” He did not look up.
“Hos-pitalfields?” she said, feigning a frown. “He has the map; maybe he can show you.”
The man grunted in agreement. She noticed his suit seemed significantly more expensive and well-cared for than what she had seen in the area thus far. More importantly, he wore a small insignia on his shoulder, in the shape of a red cross. Her next course of action was decided in a matter of seconds. Before he could make his way towards Daniyal, she reached out to grab him by the shoulder, took a step closer, and extended her blade to slide between his ribs. He coughed and spluttered briefly before dropping to the ground.
She smiled sheepishly at Daniyal, who stood frozen in place with his hands out, shaking his head, when several things happened in quick succession.
The sound of gunfire came from behind her. The few people in the alleyway scattered. Daniyal leaped sideways to take cover from any bullets that never reached their target. She turned on the spot to find the source of the miserable aiming. The culprit, no doubt the templar’s associate, lay stretched out under a hooded figure, who retracted his own wristblade from his victim’s throat. The templar’s derringer lay only a small distance from Asha’s feet, and she reached to pick it up without thinking.
More gunshots fired, this time further away on the street close to them. The hooded figure laughed as he got back on his feet.
“Welcome to London,” he shouted jovially over the noise, and took the gun from her hands. He hurried past her. “’Scuse me.”
Asha sprang back into action as soon as she heard movement behind her. Yet another attacker charged for her. She narrowly evaded, and swung out her blade; and missed in return. Her assailant seized her by the arm as she attempted to lunge forward a second time. She heard the sound of ripping fabric from her sleeve, and she cried out in anger, jerking her knee upwards to the man’s groin. He let go of her; Daniyal simultaneously sweeped his legs from beneath him with a kick.
The siblings nodded to each other; her brother wiped away a streak of blood from his nose. He revealed something resembling a two-pronged stiletto, and used it to stab their attacker in the arm. The latter screamed and fell silent soon after.
Their unknown ally and a fourth templar had ended up in a full-scale brawl. The fellow assassin brandished a set of previously concealed brass knuckles, moving fast and forcefully, all the while wearing the same smirk on his face. A final blow connected to the templar’s jaw with lethal force, knocking him to the ground.
“Well,” the assassin said, lowering his hood, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “That was fun.”
Asha could still feel her heart pounding in the back of her throat. She looked at their assailants, scattered throughout the alleyway, feeling a faint sense of pride. “It was.”
“I didn’t expect any templars,” Daniyal piped up. He dusted off his trousers.
“Stragglers. You know how it is.” The assassin adjusted his collar and shrugged.
Asha frowned. “I don’t.”
He was not fazed, instead only chuckled in response. There was a certain air of nonchalance about him that fascinated Asha.
A young man, barely of Daniyal’s age, came rushing around the corner. He did not acknowledge either of the siblings, instead addressing the other assassin directly and taking no time to catch his breath. “We - We got them all, Mr. Frye.”
“Fantastic. Go on ahead, I’ll catch up later.”
The boy nodded, took a deep breath, and took off as quickly as he had appeared.
“You’re Jacob Frye?” Asha asked, attempting to hide the surprise in her voice.
“It’s actually sir Jacob Frye now, if you’ll believe it.” He smiled again and extended his hand. “Pleasure.”
She smirked at his boastful tone, but returned the gesture regardless. “Of course, I should have known. Asha Pandith.”
“I know, Henry told me about the two of you.” It took him some time to let go of her. “You handle yourself pretty well in a fight.”
“Likewise,” she said. “Be sure to teach me a few tricks sometime.”
Daniyal cleared his throat excessively. Both of them turned to him. Her little brother sat kneeling beside one of the stragglers’ bodies, the one he had taken down himself, with a clear look of annoyance on his face. He closed his notebook and straightened up. “Perhaps we should leave, before the police shows up.”
“That reminds me, Sergeant’s actually expecting me.” Jacob pressed his lips together and looked around, as if that very thought had made him aware of what just happened. “Listen, I was never here. I trust you can handle it?”
Asha was tempted to say no, just so he would stay a while longer, though she figured that would not make her out to be the experienced assassin she was expected to be. “Of course.”
Jacob grinned and nodded. “Good. Be seeing you, Miss Asha. Daniel.”
“It’s Daniyal,” her brother called after him, but was merely acknowledged with a wave of the hand, and Jacob Frye was off.
Asha watched him walk away with that same fascination. London had suddenly become bright as a summer’s day.