the-secret-crusade-oliver-bowden

before them.
Altaïr felt the Apple – it was almost as though a person were
prodding him in the back. Perhaps it was reminding him of its presence.
Abbas strode on to the platform. ‘Please explain why you broke into
the Order’s cells.’
He was addressing the crowd as much as Altaïr and Maria. Altaïr
glanced behind him and saw that the courtyard was full. The Assassins’
torches were like balls of flame in the dark.
So Abbas meant to discredit him in front of the Order. But Maria had
been correct – he wasn’t up to the task. All Abbas had achieved was to
accelerate his own downfall.
‘I meant to establish the truth about my son,’ said Altaïr.
‘Oh, really?’ smiled Abbas. ‘Are you sure it wasn’t to exact revenge?’
Swami had arrived. He climbed the steps to the platform. He was
holding something in a burlap sack that he handed to Abbas, who
nodded. Altaïr looked at the sack warily, his heart hammering. Maria
too.
Abbas peered into the sack and gave a look of mock concern at what
he saw inside. Then, with a theatrical air, he reached in and paused for a
moment to enjoy the frisson of anticipation that ran through the
assembly like a shiver.
‘Poor Malik,’ he said, and pulled out a disembodied head: the skin at
the neck was ragged and dripping fresh blood, the eyeballs had rolled
up, and the tongue protruded slightly.
‘No!’ Altaïr started forward, and Abbas motioned to the guards, who
rushed forward, grabbing Altaïr and Maria, disarming Altaïr and pinning
his hands behind his back.