The glint from his scope was what caught my eye. I saw him up a tree at about 200 yards. He was outside of my effective range, but I was definitely in his. My heart rate elevated. I needed to close the distance. Then something struck me.

Thankfully it wasn’t his bullet. It was just the thought that if he wanted to shoot me, he would’ve done it when I was sprawled over the creek bank, presenting a way bigger target. So, I thought, if he isn’t the triggerman, he must be…

I heard sticks cracking in the woods. These guys were the real danger. He was just the insurance. I walked toward Reluctant, pretending I didn’t hear the noise coming from the woods. Pretending I didn’t know there was a man in a tree with a scope on me. Pretending I wasn’t more dangerous than any of these men would ever be.

Before I made it to him, Reluctant nickered at me. He was giving me a signal that these guys were coming. He definitely heard them before I did. Shit, he probably saw the guy in the tree before I did too. Damn horse is smarter than most people I know. As I got closer to him I started to talk in a voice that was less half-dumb hick, and more half-smart upper crust. “Yes Belvedere, I hear you. ‘Tis well past the time for your brushing.”

I got to him before they emerged from the brush. I needed to get to my saddlebag before they noticed anything amiss. I loosened the cinch, then pulled the saddle off. I was determined to make every moment count before they arrived; to sink into the role I was creating.

“My word, but you are dirty my friend! I hope the Sixth can forgive a bit of pride here, as one must have pride in one’s appearance!” I began to brush him down, humming a low hymn as they got closer and closer. Maybe I was laying it on a bit thick, but if this act meant I wouldn’t have to break my vow again, it would be worth it.

They stumbled out of the bushes. Loud, disheveled, barely organized. Definitely not pros. I wondered if there were any professionals in this country to begin with. Every single bandit, thief, robber, cutpurse, and murderer seemed to just sort of fall into it. Not like back in Peligrim, where the guilds ensured nothing happened without their hand in it.

I pretended to not notice them when the middle one spoke. I guessed him to be the leader. If you could lead such a rabble. “We’ll be taking that horse from you.”

I stepped out from behind Reluctant, hoping to appear shocked. “I’m sorry Dearest? What was that?” As I stepped out they saw what I wished them to. The costume I had affected from my saddlebag.

It wasn’t much of a costume. Over the top of my collared shirt I had placed a white ruff. Underneath it hung a bright eight-pointed star. One point for each direction the Gods lived.

“A Starpriest.” I heard one whisper to another. The surety on the lead bandit’s face slipped a bit.

“Beggin your pardon bruvah, but my men and I are down on our luck. We don’t wish to do you no harm, but we need your horse.”

“Hmmm” I said, pondering as if I wasn’t surrounded by men who wouldn’t just take it from my corpse. “No, this will not do my Dearest, I must be on my way to Kirvan to deliver my sermon to the non-believers. If you stop me here, well, it will be as if you are stopping the very will of the Eight. I apologize, but I must refuse.”

The words stopped him dead. Perhaps it hadn’t crossed his mind that I would, or that I even could, say no to him. I used these seconds to slowly close the distance toward him. “What I can offer you poor folk is Salvation. Have you heard the words of the Eight?”

“No closer” he said as he waved a shoddy looking Bruinh .44 at me. His appeared to be the only pistol, the rest of his crew had knives out, except for the tallest of the bunch who wielded a spectacularly dull looking hatchet. He was going to be my example. I turned to him and spread my arms. “Come Dearest. Come receive Salvation!”

I smiled in a way I hoped looked beatific, but probably came out a bit deranged. Then I closed my eyes and dropped into the Quickstep.

The world slowed. All my pains disappeared.

I knew those pains would be back twice as hard after, but I couldn’t concentrate on that.

The first step I crossed the distance to the big man. He hadn’t moved at all as I took the hatchet from his hands. The second step I was behind him and I slipped out of my trance.

His hatchet was in my left hand, the right had the knife I’d been carrying at his throat. The shock on their faces was something that though I had seen a hundred times, it never quite got old. The big man stared down at his hands as if they were lying to him. while the rest stared as if I had performed magic.

Which I suppose, in a sense I had. To these people seeing a technique was as rare as a two-headed cat. And, to be fair, the only real difference between magic and techniques that I could glean is magic doesn’t use trapped souls for fuel. But I digress.

That I had shocked them all was one thing, but the important part was by getting behind the big man, I had blocked off the rifleman’s line of sight. I wouldn’t be getting any bullet holes in me today, which, depending on where my reserves were at, might even kill me.

“You’re no Starpriest. You’re a shadowmin.” said the leader, lowering his weapon. “No,” I corrected him, my voice dropping to it’s usual timbre “I am THE Shadowmin.”

There is a moment I am overly fond of. It’s a bit of an indulgence, but every time I see it, it brings me glee. It’s the moment where a man realizes he is so outgunned and outclassed that something in him breaks, then he makes a break for it. I watched each man as their composure shattered and they ran off rabbit-fast. All but the big man.

He stood slack-jawed, still staring at his hands. I lowered the blade from his neck and moved in front of him. Then I put the hatchet back in his hands and collected his eyes. He looked at me as though every Hell he’d dreamed of could be found there, then he broke out with the rest of them.

One left.

I approached using the same trees as cover that the bandits did before their ill advised robbery attempt. I moved silently through the underbrush, but with speed. I had been a silent stalker even before I’d become the first Shadowmin.

I was probably the last too, but I couldn’t think of that now.

I finally escaped the brush and managed to get underneath him. I was out of his sightline, but he was far enough up that he was unreachable with the knife. Unless I tried to throw it, but that’d be foolish. My throwing skills weren’t the greatest to begin with, and if I threw and missed I’d be without a weapon and he’d be warned. Though I hated to use my reserves I knew this would take another technique.

My eyes shut and I listened to the hum of the world. When I opened them I could see the colors of the chi, the soulforce that connects objects animate and inanimate. The strongest was in the rifleman’s body. It was like looking at the sun in full-day, so I moved my gaze to the rifle he held. I was looking for a certain color within a broad palette, then I saw it. The tell-tale color of gunpowder. A shade unseen in nature, but one I recognized like my own face.

Only one bullet.

No wonder he hadn’t fired. He would’ve ran out after one shot.

I reached out with my awareness and pushed on the powder. I convinced the powder that its stable form was no longer needed, and I introduced some combustion. There was a pop as the bullet reached the end of the barrel and got stuck. I heard him curse then, and I introduced myself.

“Your friends are long gone” I called up. “That rifle ain’t gonna do you any good now. Got a squib in the barrel.”

There was silence for a few moments, then he called to me “So what do we do know?”

“Well,” I said “If I were you, I’d climb down this tree and head on back to where y’all came from. I won’t keep ya.”

He made a move to come down, then stopped. “How do I know ya aint gonna kill me when I get down?”

“You don’t” I said, “all I can give you is my word.”

“The word of a Crow is useless. You gotta swear you won’t kill me and take my soul.”

What the hell? Soul Syphoning wasn’t common knowledge. How did this yokel know about that? Anyway, I couldn’t have syphoned if I wanted to but he wouldn’t have believed me, so I hollered up. “I swear I won’t kill you and take your soul.”

“Nah, you gotta swear on your God's soul. Swear on King Portez.”

Portez was my God? That old bastard would be pleased to know that. Looks like this guy had caught a bit of rumor, and a lot of superstition, and somehow wound up at a bit of the truth.

“I swear on the soul of King Portez. First and last of his line. Long may he reign.” I droned. Luckily, it was enough. He climbed down the tree, and ran off without looking at me.

Alone, finally.

The headache and toothache were gone, but I knew that wouldn’t last long. The residuals of the technique kept me safe for now, but I knew they were waning. I walked back to where I’d tied Reluctant and realized, not for the first time, that I hadn’t checked my reserves in months. To be honest, I was scared to, but I knew that since I’d used the techniques, I would need to check how much remained. I dreaded it, but I knew it was necessary.

I found a nearly flat bit of grass, then sat cross-legged on Reluctant’s blanket and oriented myself to the northeast. I closed my eyes once more and reached down to envision my reserves.

My anchor had moved.

My eyes snapped open. I panicked. It wasn’t where I’d left it.

It was gone.

I calmed myself and let my awareness feel out. It was on the move. Headed west. Seemed like towards the Red Plains. Headed for Granze. Maybe even Bazroba.

I doubted that was a coincidence.

There was nothing I could do at the moment to get it back, so I concentrated again on my reserves.

It wasn’t good news. I had less than a tenth part left. Between what I’d saved and what had evaporated I wasn’t left with much. And when I finally ran out, I’d be the Shadowmin no more. I wondered if all my years would catch up to me at once, drying me out like a husk, or if I’d look the same but my organs would grind to a halt. My heart bursting as two hundred sixteen years of pumping proved to be too much.

I’d spent so many years trying to die. Now that it seemed certain I wasn’t sure I wanted it after all.

I thought of the note. Of the money and the message. How did I get it, and why was it aiming me toward the same direction Dreamdrinker was headed?

As I looked at it I had two choices, go back to Kalb and try to figure out what the hell I did last night and where this money came from. Or, head across the Red Plains for Bazroba without knowing the damndest thing about who, what, or why.

“First you think, then you move. No one wins in Towers without seeing the board” Odell again. Why that old ghost was still rattling around my brain was anyone's guess. He must’ve been dead nearly a century now. Probably said that to me a century and a half ago.

Still. It was good advice. Probably the best I had. So I shook out my saddle blanket, saddled my horse, mounted, and turned East.

My feet were uncomfortable in the stirrups. Hopefully I could find some new boots in Kalb. Or figure out where I left mine to begin with.

Just then, my pain began to sink back into my bones. With where my reserves were at it looked the technique was holding the pain off for shorter periods of time.

Damn.

I wondered if Kalb had a dentist.