the-secret-crusade-oliver-bowden

‘Then what?’ wheezed the dying man.
‘You of all people should know the answer. Educate them. Teach them
right from wrong. It must be knowledge that frees them, not force.’
Jubair chuckled. ‘They do not learn, fixed in their ways as they are.
You are naïve to think otherwise. It’s an illness, Assassin, for which there
is but one cure.’
‘You’re wrong. And that’s why you must be put to rest.’
‘Am I not unlike those precious books you seek to save? A source of
knowledge with which you disagree? Yet you’re rather quick to steal my
life.’
‘A small sacrifice to save many. It is necessary.’
‘Is it not ancient scrolls that inspire the Crusaders? That fill Salah
Al’din and his men with a sense of righteous fury? Their texts endanger
others. Bring death in their wake. I, too, was making a small sacrifice.’
He smiled. ‘It matters little now. Your deed is done. And so am I.’
He died, eyes closing. Altaïr stood up. He looked around the
courtyard, seeing the beauty and ugliness of it. Then, hearing footsteps
approaching, he was gone. Over the rooftops and into the streets.
Blending into the city. Becoming but a blade in the crowd …
‘I have a question for you,’ said Al Mualim, when they next met. He had
restored Altaïr’s full status and at last the Assassin was a Master Assassin
once more. Still, it was as though his mentor wanted to be sure of it.
Wanted to be certain that Altaïr had learned.
‘What is the truth?’ he asked.
‘We place faith in ourselves,’ replied Altaïr, eager to please him,
wanting to show him that he had indeed changed. That his decision to