Master Assassins (The Fire Sacraments, #1)

by Robert V.S. Redick

a man who pokes tigers with a stick will one day be mauled. You can take the stick away, but he’ll find another. Last week the Prophet’s youngest son, a boy barely into his teens, stabbed the village tailor and set fire to his shop. The old man had mended his vest with the wrong color thread. Sticks are everywhere. You have to walk about with closed fists or they will jump into your hands.

dwelling on loss is easy, and the harder task is to stay whole and upright, living with what’s left.

Only the dead are free from pain.