"I wish to do many things," Alain said guardedly, "but first among them is to see this world's children to safety. Safety they will best win when those more fortunate are gone." He didn't move to strike, though, although he could see a clear line of attack to Altair's throat. A slash across, and it would be over. But the other man was right: he was an unrepentant killer but not a thoughtless one, and something in him balked at killing someone who was both helpless and speaking such truths.

"What did you do?" he asked at last, pressing his lips together. Clearly, something had happened between Altair disappearing and being found, to make him so limp and weak, and Alain was willing to lay money that it was tied up with the mask nearby. He pointed to it with the tip of his knife, although his eyes stayed fixed on Altair, in case this turned out to be an extended case of playing possum. "What's that?"