Finally managing to draw a complete breath, his vision started to clear. For several moments the sheer intensity of the pain had robbed him of sight as his mind flooded with heat and light. The spinning in his head had threatened to rob him of consciousness … or his breakfast, but he managed to hold on to that much at least and thereby escaped those dire consequences. That would have been much worse than what he was facing already. To shout was to draw attention to one’s presence, but at least one could still defend oneself or commit suicide to prevent capture. To lose consciousness meant to face discovery and be taken alive. That must never happen, Rule 117. Rezkin knew these truths already. Still, he had not been able to control the involuntary noise that emanated from his small lungs.

A shadow fell over him as Master Jaiardun towered above. His face was red, and his eyes were blazing with fury beneath an intense scowl. “You failed! Explain.”

Rezkin swallowed the lump in his throat and took several shuddering breaths through his nose before containing his nausea enough to speak. “Master, I failed to set my weight and slipped on the loose stone. I fell.”

“I can see that you fell,” snapped Master Jaiardun. “You are still too weak. You could not contain your pain. You will work diligently to master it. You can be sure of this. Now, set that,” Master Jaiardun said as he waved his hand in the direction of the injury.

The injury in question throbbed with a pain so overwhelming that Rezkin still was not sure he would remain conscious. As soon as his eyes fell on the bloody off-white edges of bone peeking from flesh and wool, his head swam, and he lost his breakfast after all. When he finished retching, he sobbed, “Master, I cannot.”

Master Jaiardun scoffed, “Then, you die. Do you think someone will always be there to help you? No! You must be one. Alone. No one will help you. No one will care. If they find you, they are more likely to kill you immediately or torture you for information and then kill you.”

Rezkin sniffed and whimpered as he reached tentatively toward his leg. The break was halfway down his left shin. It could have been much worse. A twenty-foot fall could easily kill a man. He was aware that he had most likely sustained other injuries as well, but the pain stabbing his leg overshadowed anything else. He tugged on his pant leg to expose the injury, and the sickening dizziness filled him once again. “I-I cannot do it, Master,” he sobbed.

“Men must care for their own injuries,” Master Jaiardun stated as though it were that simple.

“But, I am only a small-man,” replied Rezkin. “I do not know how.”

“That is no excuse! You are still a man. You will never be a big-man if you do not learn this Skill,” Master Jaiardun rebuffed.