the-secret-crusade-oliver-bowden

foundations you lay will be even stronger.’
‘I shall see him now,’ said Altaïr, standing.
They checked to make sure that Malik was asleep, then left, taking a
torch. With early-morning mist swirling at their feet, they walked fast
around the outside of the inner curtain and then to the main gate.
Behind them were the slopes of Masyaf, the village empty and silent, yet
to awake from its slumber. A sleepy Assassin guard looked them over,
insolent in his indifference, and Altaïr found himself fighting his rage,
but they passed the man, climbed the barbican and went into the main
courtyard.
A bell sounded.
It was not a signal Altaïr knew. He raised his torch and looked
around, the bell still ringing. Then he sensed movement from within the
towers overlooking the courtyard. Maria urged him on and they came to
the steps leading to the dais outside the Master’s tower. Now Altaïr
turned and saw that white-robed Assassins carrying flaming torches were
entering the courtyard behind them, summoned by the bell, which
stopped suddenly.
‘I wish to see Abbas,’ Altaïr told the guard at the door to the tower,
his voice loud and calm in the eerie silence. Maria glanced behind, and
at her sharp intake of breath Altaïr turned. He gasped. The Assassins
were assembling. All were looking at himself and Maria. For a moment
he wondered if they were in some kind of thrall, but no. The Apple was
with him, safely tucked into his robe, and dormant. These men were
waiting.
For what? Altaïr had a feeling he was soon to find that out.
Now the door to the tower was opening and Abbas was standing