the-secret-crusade-oliver-bowden

‘Of course I am,’ said Sibrand, as though addressing a dolt.
Altaïr thought back to Sibrand’s callousness before the priest. ‘But
you’ll be safe now,’ he said, ‘held in the arms of your God …’
Sibrand gave a small wet laugh. ‘Have my brothers taught you
nothing? I know what waits for me. For all of us.’
‘If not your God, then what?’
‘Nothing. Nothing waits. And that is what I fear.’
‘You don’t believe,’ said Altaïr. Was it true? Sibrand had no faith? No
God?
‘How could I, given what I know? What I’ve seen. Our treasure was
the proof.’
‘Proof of what?’
‘That this life is all we have.’
‘Linger a while longer, then,’ pressed Altaïr, ‘and tell me of the part
you were to play.’
‘A blockade by sea,’ Sibrand told him, ‘to keep the fool kings and
queens from sending reinforcements. Once we … Once we …’ He was
fading fast now.
‘… conquered the Holy Land?’ prompted Altaïr.
Sibrand coughed. When he next spoke, his bared teeth were coated
with blood. ‘Freed it, you fool. From the tyranny of faith.’
‘Freedom? You worked to overthrow cities. Control men’s minds.
Murdered any who spoke against you.’
‘I followed my orders, believing in my cause. Same as you.’
‘Do not be afraid,’ said Altaïr, closing his eyes.
‘We are close, Altaïr.’ Al Mualim came from behind his desk, moving