the-secret-crusade-oliver-bowden

through a thick shaft of light shining through the window. His pigeons
cooed happily in the afternoon heat and there was that same sweet scent
in the air. Yet despite the day – and although Altaïr had once again
gained his rank and, more importantly, the Master’s trust – he could not
yet fully relax.
‘Robert de Sable is now all that stands between us and victory,’
continued Al Mualim. ‘His mouth gives the orders. His hand pays the
gold. With him dies the knowledge of the Templar Treasure and any
threat it might pose.’
‘I still don’t understand how a simple bit of treasure could cause so
much chaos,’ said Altaïr. He had been mulling over Sibrand’s final
mysterious words. He had been thinking of the globe – the Piece of
Eden. He had experienced its strange draw at first hand, of course, but
surely it had merely the power to dazzle and divert. Could it really exert
a hold above that of any desirable ornament? He had to admit to finding
the idea fanciful.
Al Mualim nodded slowly, as though reading his thoughts. ‘The Piece
of Eden is temptation given form. Look at what it’s done to Robert. Once
he had tasted its power, it consumed him. He saw not a dangerous
weapon to be destroyed, but a tool – one that would help him realize his
life’s ambition.’
‘He dreamed of power, then?’
‘Yes and no. He dreamed – still dreams – like us, of peace.’
‘But this is a man who sought to see the Holy Land consumed by war
…’
‘No, Altaïr,’ cried Al Mualim. ‘How can you not see when you’re the
one who opened my eyes to this?’