Altaïr frowned as Sef explained, not particularly bothered by boys scrapping but very much against his sons' hearing that he might not return. Yet he couldn't deny such a thing was always possible; he trusted in his skills and his men, but none of them were immortal.

"It would take a great deal of time to tell you, Sef, and we are nearly home. Have patience."

Indeed, he could now see the spires of Masyaf rising above the hills as they came around them. They were nearly home now, and might as well consider themselves already there for being on Assassin land.