parapet of Castle Alamut into the Bottomless Pit on the west side, which was what he had originally planned to do. After all, if this Kasim was as good a fighter as Bu Ali's message said he was he might prove very, very useful.
Casca stirred, and his eyes opened again. "Welcome," Hassan said in his most fatherly voice. "Welcome to Castle Alamut, my son."
Bu Ali had called him "brother." Now this eagle faced one called him "son." Shit! Casca thought, I don't know whether I'm ready for this family business or not....
CHAPTER SEVEN
The manner in which Casca entered into the ranks of the Assassins was the way things usually happened to him. It seems that I have no control over what happens to me . He wasn't complaining, though. Life at the Castle Alamut these last few weeks had been very easy indeed. Maybe too easy, but what the hell, he would enjoy it while he could.
The indoctrination had been handled very smoothly. Besides the Koran those with special gifts were instructed in many manners of disguise and on techniques by which they could gain access into places that were normally denied the ordinary man. Threats of violence were seldom used. All of the Novices were made to feel as though they were well loved brothers who were part of a large family. And Hassan al Sabah was the father figure, the wise and caring patriarch who, it was known without the words being said, would dispense reward and punishment without favor.
He was drawn to the eagle faced Arab now just as much, if not more, than at their first meeting. There was a quiet sincerity to the man that he had seldom found before. He even considered telling Hassan of his life but quickly decided against it. Persia had been good for him, the few moments which he enjoyed like now. But he had an instinctive distrust of any cult. In spite of that, he looked forward to the many hours he spent with the tireless leader of the Alamut who never seemed to need rest and had never once shown any sign of distress or anger. Even when he had two of his Novices thrown from the battlements for treason his face only showed great sadness as though their betrayal of him had been due to some failing of his own.
He would talk with each of his disciples when he had the time of the greatness of their plan and what it would mean to the world. Of course , not all understood the philosophy he expounded and to these he would direct the more simple truths. "Obey and gain Paradise, which will release you from this life of sorrows to sit at the foot of Allah and be among the Blessed." His quiet confidence and burning eyes inspired all who sat or walked with him along battlements during the evenings when the night winds came out of the desert and sang among the towers and crags of the eternal mountains.
It was on the narrow walks of the parapets that Casca preferred to speak and listen to him. Usually these talks were in the late evening, or at twilight. A time and a place that seemed to appeal particularly to Hassan. Of late Hassan had spent more time than normal with the new scar faced Novice, but if the other Novices resented the special attention paid to Casca they did not say anything. Discipline in the Castle was practically perfect, much better than anything Casca had seen in any formal army. Odd. He had heard stories about the Assassins about the evil they worked but after these few weeks he was convinced it was all wrong. Hassan felt he had a mission in the world, to clean it up, to limit the power of the few to do as they pleased with impunity. The Hashassin were to be a balance to those who claimed the right to rule the world.
Casca could agree with much of that thinking. And that really had been what most of Hassan's conversations with him had been about. He had not tried to pry into Casca's past, and Casca had volunteered no information. Hassan was grooming Casca. He could sense that in this man's strong knotted body there was a potential, which if brought out and developed would
Casca stirred, and his eyes opened again. "Welcome," Hassan said in his most fatherly voice. "Welcome to Castle Alamut, my son."
Bu Ali had called him "brother." Now this eagle faced one called him "son." Shit! Casca thought, I don't know whether I'm ready for this family business or not....
CHAPTER SEVEN
The manner in which Casca entered into the ranks of the Assassins was the way things usually happened to him. It seems that I have no control over what happens to me . He wasn't complaining, though. Life at the Castle Alamut these last few weeks had been very easy indeed. Maybe too easy, but what the hell, he would enjoy it while he could.
The indoctrination had been handled very smoothly. Besides the Koran those with special gifts were instructed in many manners of disguise and on techniques by which they could gain access into places that were normally denied the ordinary man. Threats of violence were seldom used. All of the Novices were made to feel as though they were well loved brothers who were part of a large family. And Hassan al Sabah was the father figure, the wise and caring patriarch who, it was known without the words being said, would dispense reward and punishment without favor.
He was drawn to the eagle faced Arab now just as much, if not more, than at their first meeting. There was a quiet sincerity to the man that he had seldom found before. He even considered telling Hassan of his life but quickly decided against it. Persia had been good for him, the few moments which he enjoyed like now. But he had an instinctive distrust of any cult. In spite of that, he looked forward to the many hours he spent with the tireless leader of the Alamut who never seemed to need rest and had never once shown any sign of distress or anger. Even when he had two of his Novices thrown from the battlements for treason his face only showed great sadness as though their betrayal of him had been due to some failing of his own.
He would talk with each of his disciples when he had the time of the greatness of their plan and what it would mean to the world. Of course , not all understood the philosophy he expounded and to these he would direct the more simple truths. "Obey and gain Paradise, which will release you from this life of sorrows to sit at the foot of Allah and be among the Blessed." His quiet confidence and burning eyes inspired all who sat or walked with him along battlements during the evenings when the night winds came out of the desert and sang among the towers and crags of the eternal mountains.
It was on the narrow walks of the parapets that Casca preferred to speak and listen to him. Usually these talks were in the late evening, or at twilight. A time and a place that seemed to appeal particularly to Hassan. Of late Hassan had spent more time than normal with the new scar faced Novice, but if the other Novices resented the special attention paid to Casca they did not say anything. Discipline in the Castle was practically perfect, much better than anything Casca had seen in any formal army. Odd. He had heard stories about the Assassins about the evil they worked but after these few weeks he was convinced it was all wrong. Hassan felt he had a mission in the world, to clean it up, to limit the power of the few to do as they pleased with impunity. The Hashassin were to be a balance to those who claimed the right to rule the world.
Casca could agree with much of that thinking. And that really had been what most of Hassan's conversations with him had been about. He had not tried to pry into Casca's past, and Casca had volunteered no information. Hassan was grooming Casca. He could sense that in this man's strong knotted body there was a potential, which if brought out and developed would
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