the-secret-crusade-oliver-bowden

before it begins in earnest?’
‘No,’ snapped Al Mualim, studying him so carefully that Altaïr felt as
though his thoughts were being read. ‘To do so would scatter their forces
– and subject the realm to the bloodlust of ten thousand aimless
warriors. It will be many days before they meet, and while they march,
they do not fight. You must concern yourself with a more immediate
threat: the men who pretend to govern in their absence.’
Altaïr nodded. He put away his visions of revenge to be inspected
another day. ‘Give me names and I’ll give you blood.’
‘So I will. Abu’l Nuqoud, the wealthiest man in Damascus. Majd
Addin, regent of Jerusalem. William de Montferrat, liege lord of Acre.’
He knew the names, of course. Each of the cities bore its leader’s
pernicious imprint. ‘What are their crimes?’ asked Altaïr. He wondered
if, like the others, there would be more to these crimes than met the eye.
Al Mualim spread his hands. ‘Greed. Arrogance. The slaughter of
innocents. Walk among the people of their cities. You’ll learn the secrets
of their sins. Do not doubt that these men are obstacles to the peace we
seek.’
‘Then they will die,’ said Altaïr, obediently.
‘Return to me as each man falls that we might better understand their
intentions,’ ordered Al Mualim, ‘and, Altaïr, take care. Your recent work
has likely attracted the attention of the guards. They’ll be more
suspicious than they’ve been in the past.’
So it appeared. For, days later, when Altaïr strode into the Bureau at
Acre, Jabal greeted him with ‘Word has spread of your deeds, Altaïr.’
He nodded.
‘It seems you are sincere in your desire to redeem yourself.’