the-secret-crusade-oliver-bowden

solved. It was true. He almost laughed. Everything he knew, it was an
illusion.
‘Oui. Master of lies,’ managed de Sable. ‘You and I just two more
pawns in his grand game. And now … with my death, only you remain.
Do you think he’ll let you live – knowing what you do?’
‘I’ve no interest in the Treasure,’ retorted Altaïr.
‘Ah … but he does. The only difference between your master and I is
that he did not want to share.’
‘No …’
‘Ironic, isn’t it? That I – your greatest enemy – kept you safe from
harm. But now you’ve taken my life – and, in the process, ended your
own.’
Altaïr took a deep breath, still trying to comprehend what had
happened. He felt a rush of emotions: anger, hurt, loneliness.
Then he reached and brushed de Sable’s eyelids closed. ‘We do not
always find the things we seek,’ he intoned, and stood, prepared to meet
death if the Crusaders wished. Perhaps even hoping they would.
‘Well fought, Assassin,’ came the cry from his right, and he turned to
see Richard striding over to the ring, which parted to allow him through.
‘It seems God favours your cause this day.’
‘God had nothing to do with it. I was the better fighter.’
‘Ah. You may not believe in him, but it seems he believes in you.
Before you go, I have a question.’
‘Ask it then,’ said Altaïr. He was very weary all of a sudden. He
longed to lie in the shade of a palm: to sleep, to disappear. To die, even.
‘Why? Why travel all this way, risk your life a thousand times, all to
kill a single man?’