Communiques.

"The Mithran Tracker Shikaree X is here to see you, Lady Vashai," one of the Mithran handmaidens reported. Lady Vashai of course had already sensed X's approach, but only dimly; it was uncanny how the Mithran Trackers moved without being noticed even by so canny a warrior as Vashai.

"Bid her apprrrroach," Vashai commanded in her soft, husky voice, her tail flicking very gently behind her, her only outward sign of apprehension.

The softest of pads on the wooden floorplanks was the only indication of X's repositioning before the Mithran Chieftainess. "Hail, Lady Vashai," she announced, her voice surprisingly youthful and exuberant for a Tracker. "As you know, I've lately been pursuing the Heretics under the command of Lady Zal'deana in the frozen North. While investigating Fei'Yin, I found an interesting document that I think should be brought to your attention."

Vashai nodded to her handmaiden, and there was a faint rustle of parchment as the document changed hands. "I had hearrrd that our brother Sparhawk had gone to the Northlands lately as well," X continued, "but I thought it was for his own purrrposes. But it looks like the heretics caught him, or at least realized he was there."

"Sparrrhawk, for all of his skills, is incomplete as a Tracker," Vashai answered calmly. "It is not his technique which is faulty, but that his heart is not yet frrrree to the sole pursuit of justice. He cannot achieve the true single-mindedness of purpose that a Tracker needs while his heart is still given over to vengeance." She tilted her head slightly toward her handmaiden. "Please, rrread aloud the document.

The handmaiden shifted reluctantly from foot to foot, and after a pause, began to read haltingly.

"My children, of late these past days we have become aware of the shadowed man who doth pursue us even from Elshimo to these frozen wastes of what was once flowered land belonging alike to Zilart and Kuluu. Fear not, for although he dwell ever in the darkness and conceal himself with high artifice, even now as I pen these worrrds are his thoughts laid bare to me, the true Lady of the Twilight. For what home is there ever for one who hides in darkness from those who serve it?

"Your hearts will be glad, my children, for the presence of this spy is not a curse laid upon us by our enemies, but in fact a boon granted unto us by He who is Lord of the Dusk itself. For his thoughts and the fragile flutters of his heartbeat are laid bare to me; his secret desires and whims are to me as clear as pane-glass; his true nature I now know, and in knowing these true thoughts, I have come to realize the name and nature of the one who pursues us: Anakha, the Destinyless One.

"This lost one, this man without destiny, this wingless angel has come to us unto this incarnation to truly serve our cause, though he yet knows it not. I have pierced with my eyes unerring the multiple layers of his past and seen them truly. In this incarnation, Anakha is known as Sparhawk, a Hume man of some score and eleven years of age. However, this is a mere approximation, for none live who know Anakha's true origins, not even Sparhawk himself; he came of age in a time of war and strife upon this land, the same wars that shaped my child Ta'bael's consciousness. And like Ta'bael, as a boy this man is no shaded Empire-dweller, but in fact is descended of the will of the iron stock knights in San d'Oria.

"In that time of chaos, there were those even within the holy bastions of the Elvaan kingdom those who served our Lord; they sought to turn the force of the Shadow Lord's might with the limitless power of the Dark God; verily they turned to him with unknown magics and arts unfathomable, beseeching his aid to their implements of darksteel and fell iron. Even as the Galka in the south perfected these arts, so did the Elvaan and Hume sons of San d'Oria devise similar worships and ceremonies, and consecrated their souls with blood and steel to be true warriors that walked within shadow, and in the thrall of religious ecstasy, sought to dedicate theirrr purpose to the Lord Promathia.

"It was from these such that the boy Sparhawk learned power and force; but these children were slain in their entirety in the war, and their fledgling movement passed to the Galka Zeid alone to continue; the child fled, and by trickery or art left the Middle Lands for those of the Near East, where he sought to erase the memories of that conflict and of his shattered boyhood by labor and a quiet life amongst the Empire of Aht Urhgan.

"As thou, my children, well know, the Empirrre is filled with godless heathens who serve only their Emperor and their own power, and five years hence, Sparhawk's wife and child were taken frrrrom him in gross treachery; his wife denounced a traitor and burned alive, and the child slaughtered in cold blood before the man himself. He, as well, was assaulted and left for dead, and with his own hands buried the infant child that had been slain. It was then that Anakha's life passed into the hands of the Mithran animists who have ever trained and nurtured him, seeking to use him as a weapon and spy against their enemies, and from there, that he has fallen into the hands of the Prophet, who manipulates him as he manipulates every living creature in his life.

"Anakha is without destiny, and yet the will of the Twilight God is inexorable; remember this, my children. Destiny may be imposed upon they who wish it not, and even he who has it not. Sparhawk's true calling is clearly ever to fulfill the promise of his boyhood and come to worship of the Dark One; we must take this man and bring him without delay to our purpose, anointing him by that same blood and fire into the will of the Dark One. In this, both his ends and ours will be served--we shall gain a loyal compatriot, Ta'bael a novitiate, and Sparhawk will gain the power to fulfill his quest for vengeance upon the godless ones, who will shall convert to worship of the Dark God by the point of sword.

"Capture him without fail, my children, for this is my will and that of the Twilight God.

"Signed underrr the Seal of the Lady of Twilight."

A long silence fell over the Mithra; Lady Vashai did not even move, not even to breathe, considering in a perfect limbo the information that Shikaree X had brought. "It seems Sparrrhawk is in danger," she noted at last. "And he may be beyond our power to protect."

"Why not let this Prophet protect him then?" Shikaree X asked lightly. "Then he will be no more concerrrn of ours."

"No!" Vashai said sharply. "No. Sparhawk belongs to us, not the Prophet." She paused for a long moment, considering all options, her tail swaying very slowly. "Bring me Seikatsu," she said finally.

*****

The morning after Seik and the others had nursed Sparhawk back to health, he was gone, having vanished soundlessly and invisibly during the night, as was his custom. But this time, he had left a note behind with a rather offended Mel:

"Dear Seik:

Sorry to repay your hospitality by leaving on you, but I don't have much of a choice. The other day, Alberic basically demanded I leave you alone. He does have a point--I don't know anything about this 'Anakha' business, or what sorts of danger it might put you in, but I do know that so far, associating with me only seems to bring you trouble and pain. I guess I should've taken a hint from that first time we met, when I looked so much like your past love that it hurt just to be around me. Maybe the gods were tipping us off.

I'm not really good with words, so I'll try to make this plain. Before we met, all I ever thought of was getting strong enough to go back to Aht Urhgan and settle some unfinished business there. I can fake being nice pretty well, but the truth is I'm not a particularly nice person, just an old soldier. But since we've met, I've begun finally thinking about other things--the chance for happiness, peace, and all of those other things that old soldiers never get.

I've cared for you since that first day we met, and really the only way I can show it is by letting you free to not be caught up in whatever black cloud it is hanging over me that's making you miserable. The nice thing about not having a destiny means I get to make my own choices. I'm too old, ugly, and violent for you I expect, no matter how much I love you or want to make you happy. I'm sorry.

My thoughts will always be with you.

Sparhawk"