It had been ten years since I had rowed a boat, so when I commenced, I got overbalanced, and fell forward into Phaup. He pitched to the side, his torso drooping over the side. I grabbed him, to straighten him up before he fell overboard in his drunken stupor. I felt a syrupy fluid sticking to my fingers. In the obsidian light, I saw blood dripping from my hands. Pulling him to me, I saw the knife sticking between his shoulder blades. His hand had fallen over the side, and a piece of paper floated on the water. I retrieved it, but I knew what it would be. I knew it would read, The Wages of Sin is Death.
I drew the knife out, and leaned my ear against his chest to listen for a heartbeat. I heard none. At that moment I heard a clamor from above. I looked up into the eyes of a Rich
