Sahm sat on a tree stump, and watched the trail of refugees winding its way through the valley below him. Away off to the East, smoke rose from the remains of the town that had been their home. Few of them could have seen beyond their own fear and exhaustion to notice the diminutive Halfling as he pondered their fate from the side of a nearby hill. Even if they had looked up, the log Sahm had chosen as his perch was under the overhang of the forest where, in the fading evening light, his dusty, road-worn, green and brown died leathers made him well nigh on invisible.
“No men,” he thought to himself, “Women, children, oldsters, but no men.”
“There never are,” said a quiet voice behind him.
Sahm lept up as though wasp-stung. The mid-air twist he made would have left a dance master envious, and he had both his dirk and his whip drawn before he landed. He scanned the shadows for the source of the voice, but saw nothing.
“All right,” he said with deadly conviction, “if you value your life, show yourself.”
A tall gaunt figure appeared as though stepping out from behind a curtain.
“Sahm,” it said through smiling lips, “Don’t you recognize me?”
“Oh, it’s you,” replied Sahm, his voice mixing equal parts frustration, reverence and disgust. “To what honor do I owe this divine visitation?” He spat in the dust.
“Now Sahm,” replied the other, “Is that any way to talk to your god?” His mouth continued to grin, but the lightning that flashed behind his eyes told Sahm that now would not be a good time for further gibes.
“Forgive me, lord,” Sahm said, as he went down on one knee in the traditional gesture of fealty.
As though continuing an already started conversation, the gaunt figure said, “So here’s the job. Normally, I wouldn’t care who runs that little hamlet, but those bastards killed five of the Guild, including someone you knew: Arkesh.”
Sahm’s face went white, then hardened into a mask of cold anger. Arkesh had been like the father that he and most of the rogues his age had never had. There would time to mourn him later, but first there was a payment to be exacted. With a voice as steel-sharp as the blade in his hand, Sahm said. "Who do I kill? What's his name?"
"Peace, Sahm," said the other, "We have much to discuss first. Follow me".
With a twist of his cape, he stepped back into the shadows and disappeared. Sahm, knowing what to look for now, saw the faint glimmer of the Other Path, and concentrating on it, stepped forward in his masters footsteps. Suddenly, the clearing where they had talking was empty. Briefly, all was quiet, then a bird called from a nearby tree and the forest returned to indifference.