Role

Chapter 3

These twin certainties consumed Ralshamar's waking hours and dreams both,
and though his body grew brittle and broken, the iron resolve remained.

His chance came in the ninth month.

It was not a great feat of cunning or cleverness which bought Ralshamar his
freedom. It was a patch of blood slick stone and a carelessly placed foot.

The tall shadow slipped and struck his head upon the table which Ralshamar
lay upon, and for the first time the shadow was weak and upon the ground.
An opportunity.

Yet Ralshamar was weaker still, and when he rolled from the table to the
ground and tried to beat the tall shadows head against the floor his arms
were too weak to lift the unconscious shadow's head.

So he took one of the discs-which-burned, and even as his hand sizzled and
popped he pressed it into the shadow's mouth, holding it there until the
smoke filled his nose and the pain in his hand went out. Held it there even
when the shadow's red eyes opened and the shadow tried to speak, but the
shadow had no more tongue to move. Held it there until the red eyes went
out and the shadow was gone.

And at last, he was free.

And the shadow had burned.