Jem stood frozen with the bloodied sword in his hand. He stared at it for a moment, then at Saldan's body. Something had taken control of him, some rage that he could not control...Saldan had been every man who had ever refused him food, every innkeeper who had kicked him out of the stables where he tried to keep warm...and his arm had moved, stabbing the corsair through the back. He had killed him.
And he was not sorry.
A tremor flashed through him, and his hand began to quiver. "You will be repaid for your crimes," he heard himself say, then a wave of nausea overtook him. How could he speak to the dead like that? Saldan's eyes were open in death, staring at him accusingly...
The woman who had taken the children smiled at him, and he smiled back, his strength returning. "Let's make haste, where there's one there's bound to be a few more." He followed them, and his head cleared. He had done well. Had he? Yes. He had saved the children, saved the man who was trying to rescue them, probably saved himself. Would Saldan have let Jem live after this, after his betrayal? It would have come to killing him anyway. The road was taken. There was no turning back.
And he was not sorry.
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"Oh, my god! I care so little, I almost passed out!" --Dr. Cox, "Scrubs"
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