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[Thrax]

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Although he knew that the secret passage to the Lost Lands through the portal at the Hall of Justice brought him within easy reach of those who might be hunting him, Mauric decided that the Abbey in Yew seemed the best place to set up shop. It was frequented by mostly decent-looking types and the scribes were friendly enough. It was not nearly so crowded as Britain, Luna, or Haven, nor as devoid of life as the near ghost-towns of Jhelom or Trinsic. He was looking for sympathetic ears, so Umbra would never do, and he wasn't sure about Zento. After a brief visit to that place and not finding anyone he felt he could fully trust, he made his decision: he would remain at the Abbey until he had finished his quest, unless, of course, he was apprehended first.

He decided to write a letter to his wife. Materials, pen and parchment, were in abundance at the Abbey, and the scribes there were most accommodating, giving them to him free of charge and directing him to a table upstairs to compose his missive in privacy and peace. He thought for a moment and began writing...

"Dearest Elana, Luana, and Joel,

I pray this gets to you. You must know how dearly I miss you all. Being away from you is the greatest torture I can know, except what we all will suffer if things in Papua proceed as they have. I can not, and I will not, stand by and do nothing.

So far my search has not gone as well as I had hoped. I met one man at Sanctus and he seemed kindly disposed to my words. He offered help. I dare not name him lest his name become known by those in power there. I have visited other towns and cities, but have found no one else that I trusted enough to tell about my fears for things at home.

Speaking of which, I will not be coming home for a while longer. I may slip in to visit in a few days but I shall not stay long. You can then refresh my spirit and I yours and you can bring me up to date on what has been going on. Until then, give the children a good hug and tell them I love them.

My thoughts are always of you all. You are my love and my life.

Ever faithful,
Mauric"

He folded the parchment, tied it with a thin blue ribbon and sealed it with red wax, using his signet ring to form the impression of his initials on it. He found a nearby scribe and asked him if he would find a courier to deliver it. For a small fee, the scribe said he could, and would, and took the letter. Mauric paid him, went back to the desk and sat down to ponder his next move.
___________

As the scribe headed toward the stairs he met a man who blocked his path, though it seemed as if by accident. "Excuse me, sir," he said as he attempted to walk around him.

The man didn't move, but bowed low. "I am looking for work here. Might you give a poor soul some task for small pay? I am able to do many things. Please, allow me to serve you, that I may eat," he implored.

The scribe surveyed him carefully. His face was hidden under a hood, which immediately evoked suspicion. "Why do you wear that hood to cover your face? Are you one of those ninja fellows from Zento?" the scribe asked boldly. Then, thinking he knew something, "If so, do not bother. We will have none of that mischief-making here," he warned.

The man shook his head. "Nay, sire, tis a disfigurement of birth, one too horrible to look upon, and one too humiliating to bear in public otherwise. Would ye mock my pain by having me remove it? I shall, if it is required for serving thee, for my need is great beyond it," he said in a very humble, moving, tone, bowing low.

The scribe's pale face flushed red. "No, it is not necessary. Here," he said, holding out the letter to the man, who received it, holding it gently in his gloved hand, "Take this letter to its designate in Papua, Trammel... a woman named Elana Branwyr, who resides among the Healers of that town. I have been given fifty gold coins to conduct this transaction. I will give you ten now, and three-fourths of the rest when you return with confirmation that she has received the letter. Have her sign this document," he said handing him another parchment. If the information does not tally... if her signature on that form is not acceptable, then you shall not be paid the rest, but will be reported to the authorities if you do not return the money I gave you. Are you amenable to this?"

The man nodded, placing both papers into his pack. "I will see to it immediately. You can be sure I will not fail you."

"It is not for me, but for a client who expects the duty to be performed faithfully." He gave him the ten coins.

"It shall be done. I will go now and shall return within three days."

"I expect to see you then. Good luck to thee," then, bowing slightly, "Excuse me, I must attend other duties." He walked past him and down the stairs.

The man retrieved the letter from his pack and brought it up to his nose. One sniff and he knew he had at last found his quarry.

[Thrax]

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Elana opened the door reluctantly, not because the rain, which had been pouring down since morning might soak the log floor, but because in looking through the peephole, she did not like the looks of the man standing there. But she, feeling badly that he waited patiently while getting drenched, and not wanting to increase the guiltiness she felt about it, waved him on in.

The fellow was cloaked and hooded, looking much like the ruffians who had injured her and her husband in taking away her daughter to school several days past. That disturbed her. But he, upon entering, threw back his hood, revealing a kindly, if unshaven, face. "I thank thee, madam," he said politely. "I have a message for ye," he announced, "if ye are Elana Branwyr, that is?"

Elana's face briefly lit with joy, then she regained control. "I am. Who is the letter from?" she asked, trying to hold back her excitement.

The messenger held the letter in his hand which he had kept concealed beneath his cloak to prevent it from getting wet. He brought the letter out and glanced at it. "Initials on the seal are M.B.," he said, then, looking up at her, "Know anybody with them?"

She nodded. "I do."

He gave the letter to her but kept his hand held out, palm up.

She dropped a few gold coins into it. He smiled and turned to leave. "Oh yes, I almost forgot," he said, retrieving a small parchment and an inkpen from a pouch at his waist. "Ye will be needing to sign this... no initials. Must have proof I got it to ye," he explained.

She took it, signed it, and gave it back to him. He placed it back in his pouch. "Ye have anything to send by me? I work very cheaply, m'lady," he offered.

Elana shook her head. "Not at the moment, but where might I find you if I need you, and what is your name?"

"The name's Jason. I'm the jeweler's nephew. You can contact me through him," he said.

"I will then. Thank you, Jason."

He smiled, pulling the hood over his head. "Well, guess I'll be going," he said, opening the door. "Good day, m'lady," he saluted.

She saw him out, closed the door, and threw the dead-bolt. Hurrying to sit down, she opened the seal, though noting even in her haste that it broke quite readily under slight pressure. Dismissing it, she began to read the letter, which was written in a jittery version of her husband's handwriting. She attributed that to his nervousness and anxiety. But as she began reading the letter, tears welled in her eyes...

"My dear Elana, and children,

I cannot say how deeply I regret to communicate to you in this way, to tell of things that can only shock you and fill you with extreme dismay. But there is no good way to say it, and even were I present before you, I would be hard-pressed to speak in tones that could offer comfort, or use words that can adequately convey what it is I feel in my heart.

In short, I will not be coming home ever again.

Do not fear for your livelihood. I will send gold to sustain you all. I will do so monthly, and in generous amount... more than you shall ever need.

I have found another woman, who has shown me what it truly means to be loved. She is quite wealthy and has agreed to give support for you, my family if I will but remain her paramour. This proves her kindly disposition. Do not blame her, for how can true love ever be faulted?

I will not bring further or greater pain to you or myself by seeing any of you ever again. I do not expect you to understand why I have done this, much less forgive me for it. But mayhaps the gods of Light, who know what it means to love deeply and truly, will forgive me. If not, then I will accept whatever curse with which you, and they, deign to render unto me.

Farewell,
Mauric"

Crushed in heart beyond endurance, Elana swooned and fell sideways upon the couch, the letter falling from her hands onto the damp floor.
__________

At the end of the street, under the overhanging fronds of a palm tree which gave very little protection from the rain, Jason met another man, similarly dressed, though his face was masked and his robes black as night. "She signed it," he said, handing the pouch at his waist to the man, extending his other, empty, hand.

The other man nodded, took the pouch, and gave another to him. Jason shook it, and, satisfied with the resonating jingle of the coins inside, placed it in a pocket of his robe. He bowed slightly. "Nice doing business with ye... sir," he said, and walked past the man toward his uncle's house. He almost stopped to look back, wondering why, for a moment back there, the sour aroma of aged cheese came suddenly and so powerfully to his nostrils.