the-secret-crusade-oliver-bowden

men do not bother to make the distinction. It is simpler that way. But as
an Assassin, it is your nature to notice. To question.’
‘Then what is it that connects these men?’ pressed Altaïr. The Master
had the answers, he was sure of it. All of them.
‘Ah. But as an Assassin it is also your duty to still these thoughts and
trust in your master. For there can be no true peace without order. And
order requires authority.’
Altaïr could not keep the exasperation from his voice. ‘You speak in
circles, Master. You commend me for being aware and then ask me not
to be. Which is it?’
‘The question will be answered when you no longer need to ask it,’
responded Al Mualim, mysteriously.
Altaïr could see he was getting nowhere. ‘I assume you called me here
for more than a lecture,’ he said.
‘Yes,’ said Al Mualim, and directed him to Damascus once more. The
one they called Abu’l Nuqoud. He was to be the next to die. First,
though, there was the impertinent Bureau leader to negotiate …
‘Altaïr, my friend. Welcome. Welcome. Whose life do you come to collect
today?’
Altaïr frowned to see the Damascus Bureau leader, insolent as ever,
but not enough so to warrant his fury. It was quite a talent the man had
for judging it so well. Perhaps if he had been able to put his skills to
better use, he wouldn’t be spending his days behind a desk in the
Bureau. One day Altaïr might remind him of that fact. In the meantime,
he had work to do. A new target.
‘His name is Abu’l Nuqoud,’ he said. ‘What can you tell me about