Tsamos stood looking across the barren plain. This, his twenty-first trip to Omen, was the first time he had been summoned to the cleansing.

The Lonely Time had always been hard, but never had he felt it more. The voice of the spirits wirlled about inside his head.

"I (i, i, i... ) have waited for this time for a thousand ages!... Qual Masoch Is Dead. You will go and find Him. We will have peace.

The plain was lonely at night.

...

Three days into Rajanisthan Tsamos spotted a patrol of Aramut lancers riding to his southeast. They were to be avoided at all costs. Since the day in the tavern three weeks ago, he had been alert to the knowledge that Nagor'T konach, the Rajan Priest, knew he was being hunted. Rumor from among the people of the sorrow had whispered that the Rajan had devised some knew, insidious spell to scry those with Ka Shorin Blood, the people of Old East Xambria.

The Reincarnators were always clarifying their methods. This was going to be more difficult than it would have been two hundred years ago, the last time his NamePath walked this place.

Tsamos thoughts turned to the future for a few moments. When he returned to Omen, if he was still flesh, he would be allowed to join in the rite of K'ta, the bonding. This pleased him much. There was an attractive Ke Shee Jurna whom he wished to bond.

She was above him, having three Deaths, but he had seen her giving him the eye. He hoped the studyers would validate the bonding. He thought their children would be strong, why wouldn't they? No matter, at the moment he needed to sense the weird tracks of the beasts from a Rajanisthan caravan. This would lead him to the Dead One. Following weird tracks was one very handy trick he had picked up from his nagra freind.

Too bad the other Ka Shorin had demanded he not associate with a spirit hunter. He understood their fear, too many of the people of sorrow had died to this frightening ennemy. And one who had no loyalty to the reincarnator cause, thus being hard to locate.

But what he knew of Shesh lead him to believe the Nag would be their best allies, if they could be made freinds.

They will be our best allies, he thought, in years to come. The vision had said so.

A few hundred Farad deaths and some handfuls of Lumens would see to that. He would have to survive.

...

And now came the hardest part, penetrating the wizards citadel. He prepared to climb the outer wall, using only the skill he had learned in the mountains. No magic was to be used, until the wizard was in his sight. He began his ascent

Suddenly fire engulfed him! He burned with an orange flame, that tormented his body as his soul screamed The Burning Fires! He tried briefly to hold onto the ledge.

Awakened momentarily in his pain, he was aware of Rajan voices moving frantically about him. There was the sensation of movement, maybe of his body, but he could barely tell through the haze of his pain. They would be trying to save him for the Torquar. This could not happen. Since he could not reach his Kesh supply, he had to focus on dying some other way. Lacking any great thought, he began to pray to the ancestors. The Voice of Omen became strong in his head, and through the delerium that was beginning to set in, he saw the way forward, called by the voices. He entered the crossing lands, the burning lands, to the vague noise in the background of a Rajan screaming in tormented frustration.

The NamePath of Tsamos waited to be reborn a thousand years from now.

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