28: Asymmetrical
“Your blade is crooked,” sneered the sheriff.
“It matches my smile,” Prim replied, grinning with an equal crookedness, “and you’ll find it still cuts just as effectively.”
The rain fell in sheets, plastering Prim’s hair to her head and running off the brim of the Sheriff’s hat in giant rivulets. Prim felt a slight pang of regret that she hadn’t thought to cover her head as well – the rain was going to get in her eyes and place her at a disadvantage. Just have to finish this quick I guess, she thought, and tightened her grip on her knife. It was, as the Sheriff had already pointed out, a crooked blade, but Prim was also accurate when she said it was still effective.
In contrast, the Sheriff was wielding a short sword which he’d very obviously taken good care of. Prim put her weight back on her heels and waited patiently.
“You can still come quietly,” the sheriff said, after it became clear she wasn’t making the first move. “The people will give you a fair hearing, I am sure.”
“I doubt I would survive long enough to go to trial, don’t you?”
“Probably not,” the sheriff admitted, “but what choice do you really have? You cannot escape from me.”
Prim took a very deliberate step back. “I’m not so sure that’s true.”
It was almost laughable, she thought, the way the sheriff reacted so predictably. At the slightest sign of Prim fleeing, the sheriff lunged forward with his blade, which Prim handily caught on the crooked edge of her dagger. With a twist, the sheriff’s blade flew out of his hand and clattered on the cobblestones. Prim reversed her grip on the dagger handle and brought the blade up and across the sheriff’s throat.
The blood mixed with the rain on her face, and Prim shoved the dying sheriff’s body away from her. Right, Prim thought to herself, it appears I have a rat in my organization. That won’t do at all. Sheathing her dagger, she walked down the narrow alleyway and was quickly lost to sight.