He would have to ask some questions later, if he remembered to. None of it mattered now. He could glean names, intents, happenings, and what he saw brought an ember to life in his chest. Here was a man who had taken so much to heart, who saw a weight and lifted it of his own accord. A man who knew duty--

And in a flash, he saw his library beneath Masyaf, the door locked behind him, the keys long gone. Lights extinguished one by one as voices from the past echoed in his mind, following the slowing beats of his heart. Get rid of that thing she had cried. It is my duty, Maria he had answered, insistent and even angry. None could see what he had seen, and he had known answers he had never wanted to give her. Had been so careful not to give her.

As he coughed, Altaïr held him, pressed against his chest. Made a note to bring him a pillow to hold to ease the aches that would come afterward. And when he could, he stroked his hand over Tony's brow. "I blame you for nothing, Ibni. All I can give you is my praise."