Role

Chapter 5

"When I was just beginning my training as an assassin, I happened
upon a man who was hanging from the side of a steep cliff. He was
slipping, and could not find purchase with his boots to stop his
slow slide toward the edge. First his belly, then more and more of
him began to slide over the edge. He scrabbled in the dry dirt with
his hands, searching for something, anything to grab onto, so that
he might escape his grisly fate."

The drunk nodded, leaning in with interest as Enhal told his tale.

"At last, his left hand found something to grip. A tiny tuft of grass,
its roots barely able to stay in the arid soil against a stiff breeze.
The man shifted his right hand to also clutch at the useless weed."

Enhal chuckled darkly. "He had to know it would give way, and yet he
gripped it as hard as life itself."

The drunk, sobering up slightly, asked "Did you save him?"

Enhal rolled his eyes at the completely missed point and drove his
dagger into the man's eyesocket. Wiping the blood on the coat of the
drunk, Enhal stood and walked out without a backward glance.