He wanted to stop him. To reach out, to take hold, to do anything to keep Jacob from being hurt, but he knew already that it was his fault. He had done this, given Jacob this pain from his own selfishness, and to do anything but let him go, he felt, would do nothing but make it worse in the end.

Altaïr's hands clenched. He swallowed, but then he nodded. "I understand. And I am deeply sorry. If there is anything I can do..."

But what right did he have to even offer? He sighed, head bowed. Ninety-two, and still so much to learn.