the-secret-crusade-oliver-bowden

‘What do you mean?’ Altaïr was puzzled.
‘What do he and his followers want? A world in which all men are
united. I do not despise his goal. I share it. But I take issue with the
means. Peace is something to be learned. To be understood. To be
embraced, but…’
‘He would force it.’ Altaïr was nodding. Understanding.
‘And rob us of our free will in the process,’ agreed Al Mualim.
‘Strange … to think of him in this way,’ said Altaïr.
‘Never harbour hate for your victims, Altair. Such thoughts are poison
and will cloud your judgement.’
‘Could he not be convinced, then? To end his mad quest?’
Al Mualim shook his head slowly and sadly. ‘I spoke to him – in my
way – through you. What was each killing, if not a message? But he has
chosen to ignore us.’
‘Then there’s only one thing left to do.’
At last he was to hunt de Sable. The thought thrilled Altaïr but he was
careful to balance it with notes of caution. He would not make the
mistake of underestimating him again. Not de Sable, or anybody.
‘Jerusalem is where you faced him first. It’s where you’ll find him
now,’ said Al Mualim, and released his bird. ‘Go, Altair. It’s time to finish
this.’
Altaïr left, descending the stairs to the doors of the tower and coming
out into the courtyard. Abbas was sitting on the fence, and Altaïr felt his
eyes on him as he crossed the courtyard. Then he stopped and turned to
face him. Their eyes met and Altaïr was about to say something – he
wasn’t sure what. But he thought better of it. He had a task ahead of
him. Old wounds were exactly that: old wounds. Unconsciously,