the-secret-crusade-oliver-bowden

service to the same God that calls me an abomination?’
‘If you do not serve Salah Al’din’s cause, then whose?’
Nuqoud smiled. ‘In time you’ll come to know them. I think, perhaps,
you already do.’
Puzzled once again, Altaïr asked, ‘Then why hide? And why these
dark deeds?’
‘Is it so different from your own work? You take the lives of men and
women, strong in the conviction that their deaths will improve the lot of
those left behind. A minor evil for a greater good? We are the same.’
‘No.’ Altaïr shook his head. ‘We are nothing alike.’
‘Ah … but I see it in your eyes. You doubt.’
The stink of death was on his breath as he pulled Altaïr closer to him.
‘You cannot stop us,’ he managed. ‘We will have our New World …’
He died, a thin trail of blood trickling from his mouth.
‘Enjoy the silence,’ said Altaïr, and dipped his feather into the
Merchant King’s blood.
He needed to see Al Mualim, he decided. The time for uncertainty
was over.