Altair squatted on the broken roof of a mosque looking down into its interior. The mosaics and paintings were smashed and broken, pieces scattered all over the floor together with the fallen in ceiling. The columns that had held up the roof were chipped as if by giant clubs and parts had tumbled down on the ground. The same was true of many other buildings in the city. Why hed chosen this particular one he had no idea.
Perhaps because it stood on the hill that overlooked the southern part of the city towards the harbour where ships had used to be. He had been told the harbour was the most prominent feature of the city: masts and sails filled it, making it seem like a city on water. Merchants and goods as well as messengers and envoys had arrived in droves to honour the rich Persian Empire. Now all was rubble and ruin, the ships sunk, the docks broken and burned. The sailing quarter had been burned to the ground, the houses levelled. It had been the first point of entry