There was a great sprawling river that cut through the arid lands of the desert like a blessing from god. If there was a god. Schneider had doubts.
It was nice to get out of the desert though. To breath in air that hadn't had every trace of humidity sucked out of it by the dry sands. To see greenery on the earth and to see a thin veneer of civilization. There were planted fields and pastures on the land alongside the river. There was a city across the wide expanse of dark water. He'd been flying for two days since the last little outpost of humanity they had come across and carting the trembling, prayer murmuring form of Abu with him. The little man seemed to have taken up religion. The little man had developed a great deal of fear for the arcane. Schneider would have left him behind, but he needed someone who knew the land and the people. As much as he might want to go in blasting, a bit of delicacy might not be out of order.
So Abu got to live. And Abu had led him in the right direction. He descended upon the port town with no one the wiser. No one had the leisure to stare skyward in the bustle of the very busy port. There were water vessels of every size and type crammed about the docks. Everything from great masted ships to small reed canoes. Too many boats for the docks to handle. They rocked against each other in the tide, the outside vessels tied to the inside ones, the larger boats drifting at anchor in the river's current.
There were too many people for the size of the town. Too many brown bodies crowded within the narrow streets. There were shanties set up on the sidewalks, and small tents which overflowed with humanity in the middle of the streets. People walked around them, hardly seeming to mind.
Schneider moved among them, with Abu scurrying warily ahead of him and thought that this place had the look of a refugee camp. The people had the look of devastated survivors on their faces and in their hollow eyes. He was well familiar with such looks. He had caused enough devastation in the past to know the symptoms now.
"Find out what happened?" He directed Abu. He was half a head taller than most of the people here. He scanned the crowd for signs of military presence, for signs of anything out of the ordinary other than the number of folk and the desperation in the air. There was nothing. Only hundreds and hundreds of shell shocked natives. Even the children weren't playing. They huddled in the shade of buildings, in the lee of their thread bare tents or in the protective arms of their mothers.
Victims, most certainly. But of what? He had a notion.
"I don't understand." Abu came back, frightened. "They say that the desert rose up and ate the villages down river. They say that the gods have come down from heaven to smite us here on earth. They say that only a few have escaped but that the gods will follow and kill them too. That they will kill us all."
"Gods." Schneider sneered. "Not likely. Is that what they're fashioning themselves as? Even I was never so egotistical." He stared towards the river. Stared south along its gleaming surface and tried sense the presence of power. He'd felt it off and on over the last few days. There was very little now. Whatever was up there was dormant.
He'd felt nothing of Kall-Su at all. It bothered him a great deal; the not knowing if Kall were alive or dead. It disturbed him dwelling on the latter. He rather thought he was alive, though. Kall had a knack for survival, even when he had no care for living. Kall had the advantage of a bloodline that was not so easy to kill. Yes, Kall-Su was alive. He refused to think differently.
"So we've managed to get ahead of them on the path of whatever it is they're about. How far south are they, do you know?"
Abu shrugged. "The people here are scared and much of what they say is tinged with hysteria. They say that an army of the god's warriors have encamped at Dasmadren, which is some two days good sailing down the river."
Two days sailing. Less than one by air. If he wished to throw caution to the winds and thrust himself back into the line of fire. He was bold and he was confident of his own prowess, but he had never been a blatant fool. It grated that his common sense warned against confronting Ramlah again without some sort of better plan that he'd had the last time. Without separating the master of the Black March from his minions who fed him power.
"Find me a decent place to eat." He snapped at Abu, short of temper and testy because of it.
"I think that there is a very fine establishment two streets down from the docks." The little man was always ready to serve in such matters, always the consummate guide. Schneider sniffed and waved a hand at him to lead the way. He missed his djinii and her ability to conjure the most scrumptious meal out of thin air. He most certainly would have to look into finding out how she had managed such a thing.
The restaurant was not that fine, but the smells coming from it were not unappealing and there were dancing girls gyrating on the carpets in the center of the floor and cool wine in pictures on the low tables. Abu procured him a select spot before he had to procure it for himself. A very nice view of the three dusky skinned dancers. The music was poignant and oddly melodic. It struck an unusual chord compared to the music he was used to hearing. The dancers struck another chord. They were very good. They oozed sensuality. They made him want to see Yoko so very badly. Made him think about the private little dances she performed for him.. And what they did after.
Ah, damn her and her cursed promises. It would kill him keeping that faith. Especially now, when exhaustion and frustration triggered urges that needed release.
"They are available, for a small price, you know?" Abu said helpfully and Schneider glared at him. He had never paid for a woman in his very long life. Well, at least not in money. He supposed there were other methods of extracting payment that women knew. Yoko was damned good at it. Arshes had had her moments.
"No." He said shortly. It was tempting though.
"Oh." Abu said, brows drawn. "You don't like women? There are boys here that might be of service as well."
"Are you trying to end your miserable life?" Schneider's glare turned patently deadly.
"Ah--- But I thought that you and your young friend ----"
"Don't think. Don't speak. Go away and I might forget to turn you into something crisp and bubbly."
Abu blanched and backed away, white rimmed eyes looking for the quickest route of escape. He scurried away like a rabbit with a fox on its tail. Schneider slouched into his cushions and simmered. Angry at the assumption, angry that the thought of what Abu had suggested had actually occurred to him. Well, perhaps not angry at the thought itself as much as the notion that Abu had perceived it of him.
Kall-Su had felt -- intriguing -- in that overdone bordello. He had felt nice with his soft skin and smooth body. He had tasted --good. The apprehension in his eyes, the agitation of his body language, the pounding of his heart through the thin layer of sheer material had been interesting. If he had not have been beautiful, Schneider never would have bothered to take him under his wing to begin with, but he'd never quite noticed just how appealing that fragile, pale beauty was before this past year. He'd never quite realized that he could find as much jealousy in his heart over Kall-Su as he could with Arshes-Nei or Yoko. He'd never had the opportunity before. Kall was the only one out of the small cliché of people that he considered his own, that had never dared to put another above his devotion to Schneider. Not until the minstrel girl at least. It bothered Schneider somewhat to see the adoration in Kall-Su's eyes when he looked at her. As much as it bothered him to see the warmth in Arshe's eyes when she looked at Gara. The only difference was, it would have mattered to him if Gara ceased to exist. He couldn't give less of a damn if Lily disappeared from the face of the earth. Except that it would devastate Kall-Su. And it occurred to him that Kall-Su's pain made a difference to him.
He stared sullenly at the man who brought him his food. He picked at the spicy stuff with something of a diminished appetite. He consumed great amounts of the wine. The strong beer that this establishment brewed was quite good as well. His irritations dimmed. He had a dancer in his lap within an hour and another pressed against his back, rubbing his shoulders. The both of them were fascinated with his hair. He was quite mollified by the feel of their shapely forms so close. Yoko had never made him promise not to look and he'd never said he wouldn't touch. There were just differing levels of touch that a body could participate in.
"What is it about you, that our women find so appealing, Jamad ja'da?" The vaguely familiar, vaguely amused voice drifted up from behind. Schneider didn't turn. The women did, the one shifting to look over his shoulder, the other pausing in her delightful massage to see who had spoken. He knew. He swirled the beer in his mug and let a small, humorless smile cross his lips.
"How fortunate for me that you've come, water rat." He said. "I've needed an outlet for my frustrations and here you are. Have you wearied of life?"
The tall form of Amir, the brother of the sea who had brought them to his hellish land to begin with, moved around to stand in front of Schneider. He was dressed very much as he'd been the last time Schneider had seen him, save that now, there was a look of weariness on his bearded face.
"Not quite yet, land snake." Amir said. "I'm not here to fight you."
Schneider lifted a brow. "Do you think it would be much of a fight? You're not in your element. Not that the ocean could save you."
Amir shrugged. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. I would prefer to find out at some later date, if its all the same to you."
"And if its not?"
"Then there would be one more body for the river to consume, no? Whether it would yours or mine, I cannot say."
Schneider's smile widened. Amir shifted uncomfortably.
"I thought you might have been dead anyway." The sea captain said. "When I heard tales of the Moulay's death and the deaths of all his men I thought perhaps you might too have perished at the hands of that which he summoned from the beyond."
"Nooooo." Schneider drawled. "None of you were that lucky. Too bad you weren't there. You could have gotten a taste first hand of what you helped bring into this world."
"I helped with nothing." Amir snapped. "I am a trader. A merchanteer. I transported an item and that is all."
"You're a slaver and a pirate and you brought the key that released the Black March."
Amir paled. The women stiffened and backed away, making signs against evil, huddling together. Amused, Schneider watched them go.
"Ah, everyone knows the name now, don't they? A little wholesale destruction will do that to a reputation. Ramlah's building his back up rather quickly."
"Ramlah?" Amir whispered. "Is that his name, the leader of Al-Zafif Al-Asouad?"
"Yes."
"I came up the river from the river from Wadi Halfa and passed ---- I cannot describe it. There were great cities along the Nile that are dust now. They have leveled everything from tiny fisher villages to cities that have been on this river since before the great destruction. They've left nothing alive and only these few people have escaped their wrath. They are demons."
"Maybe." Schneider agreed. "Very likely. You passed the March? How far away and how come they didn't blast you?"
"A night past. They encamped in the ruins of a city. We could not make out the size of their force, but it was great. Desert dwellers follow them. The wild nomads who seldom come into the cities of men. We slipped by in the dead of night and they did not see us."
"Wise of you." Schneider remarked.
"You were there when the Moulay summoned them?"
Schneider shrugged.
"You saw them and survived?"
"I'm not that easy to kill."
"Are they?"
He didn't have an answer to that question. It unnerved him that the response was probably no.
"They cannot be allowed to destroy this land." Amir said solemnly.
"What do you care? You had no problem wrecking havoc to my lands."
"As you no doubt, have no care about destroying the lands of your enemies." Amir grinned humorlessly. "But these are not the lands of my enemies, these are the lands of my people and I'd rather they were not taken by the desert."
"Why tell me? I don't care."
"You are here, are you not? If you are in a place, it seems to me that you might prefer if it were not reduced to so much sand. Where is Al-Shayhtaan bil'Sha'ir Al-Shamcii? Did the Black March consume him?"
Al-Shayhtaan bil'Sha'ir Al-Shamcii. The sun-haired-demon. Interesting terminology. He wound a lock of silver hair about his forefinger thoughtfully. "What does it matter to you?"
"It doesn't particularly. The Moulay set me to find his woman before he left to resurrect his demons. It would seem a shame if I had wasted me time."
"You found her?"
"Where she is at. Yes."
Schneider twined the hair tighter. He'd almost rather not have known. He'd almost rather she was swallowed by the desert. If he killed Amir now, he'd never know and Kall-Su would never know where she was.
"Where?"
"She was taken inland from the city of Wadi Halfa. As far as I know she is safe. I left word that she was not to be harmed on threat of the Moulay's vengeance. Of course that threat is an empty one now."
"What do you want?"
"The same thing you do. For this Black March to find its end."
"What makes you think I care?"
"I think you care what happens to your friend."
He lifted a brow in curiosity, wondering how Amir knew. Then it occurred to him that it was probably the same way he'd known Schneider was here. Abu had been employed by the Moulay, just as Amir was. He'd most likely run into the little guide and been given the pertinent details.
"What good are you if you're not on the ocean? Does the river lend you its power too?"
"Somewhat." Amir shrugged. "But it seems to me that I should be a most welcome comrade considering what it is we face. I hear that in addition to the demons of Al-Zahif Al-Asouad itself, that many mortal sorcerers have also taken a vow of allegiance."
"He's collecting sorcerers?"
"I have heard as much."
"Hummm. Interesting. It doesn't matter."
"Are you so powerful as not to care?"
"We'll see."
"Foreign devil!" the screech of moral outrage came from behind him. Kall-Su just had the time to whirl before the finger of black death shot out at him. It wasn't that impressive a strike. The spell was laced with disease and plague and would have stricken a normal man with a most gruesome and lingering death. Kall-Su deflected it with hardly a thought. He'd been avoiding little nasties from the fervent mortal magicians who worshipped Ramlah for the last few days. They were all fanatics. All unhinged and mad as far as he was concerned and not a one of them had tolerance for anything foreign. At least anything foreign that was not beaten down and whimpering in submission at their feet. He hated religious fanatics. He had rather understandably developed an overwhelming distaste for zealots in general.
He didn't hesitate in retaliating. He whispered a word and flicked a finger and the fertile ground sprouted spikes of ice that pierced the mortal flesh standing upon it. The ice melted quickly enough in the heat but it had done its damage. There was a good deal of blood soaking the ground in addition to the water he had summoned forth. People shied away, and men fingered weapons. Anyone close enough to witness the demise of the crazed sorcerer had also seen his attack on Kall-Su. They had to have realized the retaliation was only fair, but of course none of them saw it as such. All they saw when they looked at him was pale skin and hair and eyes that mirrored the sky on a clear day. Foreign. Foreign and dangerous. They made signs against evil when he passed, which completely frustrated him since they groveled like obedient dogs at Ramlah's feet and at the feet of his ominous immortal followers. If ever there was evil then the Black March reveled in it. Some of the things they did made the brutal beastmen that Schneider had utilized in his armies years ago, seem civilized. He had watched those beastly armies at work, he had commanded them for years and even still, watching some of the pleasures taken by the Black March and by Ramlah himself made him sick and weak-kneed.
Perhaps it was him. Perhaps he had changed since those days when following in Schneider's footsteps had been all that had occupied his mind. Perhaps somewhere along the way, despite overwhelming odds, he'd developed a conscience and a sense of morality. Or perhaps he'd just grown weaker. Regardless of the reason, it didn't make the bile taste any better when it surged up the back of his throat.
"What did you do?"
He stiffened and stared defiantly up into the blank, dead eyes of one of Ramlah's lieutenants. Helmless the creature was no less intimidating than he might have been with his fiercesom horns and molded metal snout.
"Nothing that was not deserved."
The broad, flat mouth twitched. "You take great liberties with those that are blood bound to Ramlah."
"I am blood bound to Ramlah, yet it does not stop them from attacking me." He pointed out coldly. "If a hand is raised towards me than I shall not hesitate to strike it down."
He did not flinch from the dark stare. He challenged it, feeling sullen and defiant. A moment's silence, then the creature shrugged, as human a motion as Kall had ever seen from this particular one.
"I will be sure to tell Ramlah as much. He will be interested to hear of it, I'm sure."
"You do that." But he felt a little shiver of dread inside at the prospect. Anything that threatened to draw him into Ramlah's presence made him nervous. Anything that gave Ramlah reason to practice the extent of his power over him was to be avoided. Ramlah didn't need an excuse to lay a hand on him and the notion of that made him as miserable if not more so than having to watch the torturous pleasures of the March and their followers.
The screams of the short lived survivors drifted through the shattered remnants of the city they inhabited. Fires still burned here and there. The smell alone of burned human flesh was sickening. Thank the gods that most of the bodies had been swept out into the desert when Ramlah had called on the power of the desert to crash down upon this unlucky town like a wave from an angry ocean. It was earth magic, there was no doubt of it, just an unusual brand. Everything about the magic of the March was unusual. Tainted and archaic, but very, very strong.
Despite all of his revulsion he was drawn towards the cries and the pain. They had found a few more survivors somewhere and worked diligently and with the skill of true craftsmen to make the last hours of life the most despicable of all. The March was never so animated as when it caused pain. Even during sex, which they practiced openly with the willing nomad women who followed them, and the unwilling women and young boys that survived the initial destruction of their homes. They rutted with the instincts of animals, but they tortured with the honed practice of artisans.
The victim this time was a woman. She was huge with child. Her condition had not stopped her rape or the torture. They had cut her open and done things to the life she carried that did not bear dwelling on. She was still alive. It reminded him, sickeningly enough of Yoko, after the Prophet had caused her to loose her baby. The blood and the gruesome little body yanked before its time from the safe womb of its mother. The look on the mother's face that told that none of her pain and agony mattered as much as what her unborn child had gone through before it died.
They could have drawn it out longer, but the constriction inside Kall-Su's chest was so tight that he might not have survived it himself if he hadn't ended it then and there. All it took was a simple concussive spell to shatter her heart and her moans stilled and her body sagged on its makeshift cross.
Most of the onlookers had no notion that a spell had been cast at all. They merely bemoaned the loss of a victim and went in search of another unlucky creature. An old man was dragged forward to entertain them.
An arm slipped around Kall-Su's shoulders, an aura of power enveloped him in a suffocating cocoon. He drew a breath and didn't attempt to twist free.
"You rob us of our pleasures." Ramlah purred in his ear. Ramlah had the smell of wine on his breath and the sense of lazy indolence about his essence. He had been whiling the night away in the shadows, then, enjoying the spectacle.
"Pleasures? There's little honor to torturing pregnant women." He murmured.
"You tire me with your talk of honor." The other arm slid around his waist, palm flat on his belly, moving up his ribs to his back, forcing him to turn and face his accoster.
Oh, please, please, let him take his hands off me. Let him find interest in the screams of that poor old man. Let me melt into the night and escape from his notice.
"You've killed another man of mine." Ramlah chided. He didn't sound angry. "I've warned you."
Kall said nothing. He stared into shadows past Ramlah, trying not to focus on the dark face or the hands on his back or the broad, hard body that leaned against his.
"You are ever disobedient."
"Tell them to stop attacking me, then." He suggested softly. "Let me loose." He pressed his hands against Ramlah's chest and attempted to push the larger man away.
"Is she beautiful, your woman? Would she scream prettily if she were in that woman's place you killed?"
Kall froze, blinking in shock. Ramlah laughed. His hands tightened on the material of Kall's cloak. Of a sudden he pressed his mouth against Kall-Su's. A hurtful assault of lips and teeth and tongue. He drew blood in the process, and stole breath.
Kall fought against it, in panic and fear and pain, and Ramlah forced him back a few steps until his back hit the rough stone of a wall and Ramlah pressed him against that, smashing his head into the stone, grinding his body against Kall's. Ramlah, who stood Schneider's height or taller and might have outweighed him by a good sixty pounds was too strong to physically through off.
Kall ceased to reason in his alarm. He lashed out in the only way left him. He summoned the magic, and struck. Ramlah started, grunting, breaking the brutal kiss with a hiss as he staggered backwards. Kall leaned against the wall, panting, frantically gathering the power for a more thought out spell. Gathering power for shields.
"If you do it, I will kill you and hunt down your woman with my last breath." The threat came out a sibilant hiss. There was anger in Ramlah's eyes. There was a trail of blood running down from his nose.
Kall hesitated. Clenched his fists in consternation. In helpless rage at the threat to Lily. "You'll kill me anyway." He hissed back.
"Maybe." Ramlah agreed a moment before the jolt of magic hit Kall dead center. Without the benefit of a shield, he couldn't even manage the breath to scream. It ate up everything he had, shredded it and spat it out again. He crumpled to his knees, mouth filling with the taste of copper. Vision spinning out of control. The desire to erect a shield was so strong it hurt not to.
Ramlah struck him again and this time he let it wash over him, figuring the sooner he passed out, the sooner the pain would stop. Gratifyingly enough, he was right.
The only problem was he woke up again. The impact against the ground did it. And Ramlah's knee in his stomach as the master of the March fell upon him. He wasn't in the same place. There were the tapestry covered walls of a tent, the dim light of a brazier, the rough brocade of hand woven pillows under him. Ramlah's tent.
Gods. Gods. Gods. Pain or no pain, fear of retaliation or not, he bolted for freedom, trying to scramble out from under Ramlah's weight, trying to use his own to throw the man off balance. A physical blow this time, a fist to the side of his temple that made him see stars, but didn't quite divest him of the urgency to flee this horrid situation.
The magical impact that followed worked better. He lay sprawled among the pillows floating in a daze of hurt and disorientation as Ramlah's dark form hovered over him. Hands pulled at his robes and he hadn't the wherewithal to fight them off. He hadn't the sense to do anything save lay there blinking hazily at the tent's peaked roof while Ramlah lowered lips and tongue to his neck, taking his leisure in sampling the taste and texture of Kall's skin. Teeth fixed on his nipple. Not gentle at all, but hurtful and insistent. Blood was drawn there as well. It brought him out of his stupor somewhat. Blindly he tried to gather magic. Ramlah's head lifted. His black eyes glittered dangerously.
"You are a fool Jaleebi, to try my patience so." He pressed his hands down onto Kall's shoulders, murmuring the words of a chant that were foreign sounding and ancient. A wash of something not entirely painful fell down around him. Vision went dark and wavery. Thoughts spiraled into a void that sucked will and initiative away like the desert drank up water. He could hear, he could feel, he could smell the scent of Ramlah's sweat and the incense burning in the brazier. He just couldn't reason. He couldn't think. He couldn't summon the will to do anything to lay there passively while Ramlah untied the belt of his robes and pushed them aside.
"So beautiful. So white and soft." Ramlah murmured with some amazement, following the path of his fingers with the wet trail of his tongue and lips. The clarity of Kall's awareness shifted in and out of focus.
"You could have enjoyed this, if you were not so stubborn." Ramlah trailed a bit of silk across his skin, teasing his flesh, causing goose pimples to rise. "But I shall take pleasure in it for the both of us, hummm."
It was daylight when it began to wear off. It had been an enchantment of some sort. He was sure of that in his gradually clearing awareness. Enchantments cast without the benefit of herbs and the tools of witchcraft were rare. The fact that Ramlah had the knowledge and the ability was yet another thing to fear.
He was sprawled in the pillows of Ramlah's pallet. He was unclothed. He was sore in places that made him blush to dwell upon and he was sorely lacking in restful sleep. He wasn't sure, but he thought it had been well after dawn before the master of the Black March had tired of his sport. When Kall had finally been allowed to drift into sleep, Ramlah had been there. He could only thank whatever gods still had any awareness of him at all, that Ramlah wasn't here now.
He brought his hands up to cover his face and lay there trying not to be sick. Trying not to let his body fall into a fit of shaking that he wouldn't easily be able to recover from. There was blood on the pallet, staining the pillows and the silken sheets. His. From a variety of places.
He wanted to die. At that moment he would have welcomed an offer of a quick death. Shame ate at him and helplessness. It overwhelmed the anger.
Enchanted and raped. The words echoed in his head. It wasn't like it hadn't happened before. The latter at least. It wasn't like he didn't know the feeling. It wasn't like Ramlah had been trying to destroy his soul in the process. Ramlah had been rather straightforward in what he wanted.
It should have made a difference. He kept trying to convince himself of that, curled in Ramlah's pillows, aching in body and spirit. This was not so huge a thing to give for his survival and Lily's. Was it?
And if Ramlah wanted it again ---? What then? He rose with a start, the shaking he'd tried to circumvent assaulting his hands. He looked for his robes and saw them a little distance away on the floor. He dressed, stiffly and went for the flaps leading out. There were men in the antechamber, as there were always men there. He wondered if they had been there during the night when Ramlah had ----
He couldn't finish the thought. His face flushed red and he stalked past. And was stopped at the door by a member of the march.
"No. You are not to go. He wants you here when he returns."
Kall stared up, mind blanking for a moment in the panicked need to escape. To distance himself. He could not endure this again. He knew he could not.
"I'm not going far." He kept his voice neutral. "The call of nature." He explained.
The inhuman sorcerer stared at him, gauging him in a new light. Not just a foreigner to be tolerated, but a personal possession of Ramlah's now. Jaleebi. Ramlah's foreign slave. His personal property. As if one egotistical wizard who thought he'd owned him hadn't been enough. The desire to bolt, to just blast his way past this dark obstacle was so strong he had to fight it down. That would only draw attention he didn't want his way.
"I'll be back shortly." He said reasonably, haughtily, as if the man were a fool to even suggest otherwise. The bluff worked. He was let past without incident. The man even moved aside for him.
It was bright outside and hot. It was always hot. The heat made him crazy. It never let up. He got enough distance between himself and Ramlah's tent where he thought it was safe to stop and moment and get his thoughts together. To force a bit of rationality.
He could not stay here. He realized that now. Even if the desert ate him alive, he could not stay here and be subject to this again. Even if it meant his chances of finding Lily were less. He honestly didn't think Ramlah could find her. He didn't think Ramlah would really try. She was a threat to use against him and that was all she was. For all he knew, she might already have been a victim of the March's destructive journey north up the river. She might have been one of the lucky ones that died quickly.
He had to flee regardless. He would die otherwise. One way or another he would die. He'd use no magic in the endeavor. Not yet at any rate. Not where it could be sensed and he might be stopped. So he walked. To the edge of the encampment where the horses and camels were kept. Where scouts were coming and going all the time, looking for refugees. Looking for resistance or new victims. He wrapped a turban about his hair and the edge of the cloth about his face and just appropriated a horse. No one paid him any heed. It was that easy.
The day was half gone before there were any signs of pursuit and by that time he'd resigned himself to die before they retook him. He'd been dwelling on what spells to use and what elementals to summon all the day long. He had a last one reserved for himself. Something he thought might work to snuff out his own life. It might work, it might not. There was only the one way to find out.