Prologue

Aaron awoke with a start.

“Remind me of why you’re staying here again?”

He looked up. The speaker was an in-keeper’s wife, a farmer’s daughter. She had short-cropped hair. There was nothing about her that was either distinctive or interesting; that was of course, except for her posture. She was a strong woman. Years of war had tempered her face. She had, you could see, welcomed Death on more then one occasion.

“Hey! You listening!” she asked again, “why’re you here?”

Behind her, leaning against an unornamented dresser stood his most valuable possessions, a pair of mismatched blades made by his late teacher. Like his master, these were perfectly balanced. The shorter one, his personal favorite, though the other had saved his life on more then one occasion, was made from a form of gray steel with a hilt and guard of silver filigree. Unlike it’s partner this sword had a reverse-blade. It was a sword of protection, not of death. The other, carefully wrapped in black silk, lay next to it on the floor. This blade, in stark contrast to the short-sword, was made of ebony steel. It was a killing sword. The silver metal used to decorate it was in the same pattern as the design from the guard of the other. The blade was long and thin. Not only was it folded an uncountable number of times but it was also sharpened at a diamond’s point. The hilt was undecorated metal with a cord of silk wrapped around for traction. It had no weakness.

“Fine,” she said as she walked out of the room. “Diner’s on the table.”

Over the past few days, during the time he had spent here, he had grown to like her straightforwardness. However, he must move on. If he stayed in one place for too long those that wanted him dead would catch up. He felt sorry for what he had to do, but he had to cover his tracks.

He went down the stairs, taking his belongings on his way out. The in-keeper’s wife looked up at him. She was sitting alone at the table across from another place setting. Throughout the whole time he had been there, he hadn’t noticed another living soul in that house, and his senses told him that he was right. ‘At least it’s only her’, he reasoned.

He crossed the room and sat to eat. The minutes passed. He noticed that the sun had already set.


‘It’s time’ he thought, and stood with a sigh.

He drew the longer blade, the dark of the metal and brilliance of the silver playing in the light of the setting sun.

“Forgive me.”

Aaron shut the door. Behind him she opened the door one last time. Death merely smiled. It was her last time. Her last time: for this time she opened the door to leave.