And I did survive, coming at last to the Isles of Kell off the Western Coast. It was as close to Alasea as I could ever bring myself. I had not the heart to walk its lands again, but I could not be far from it, either. So I lived these last centuries in Kell, a drifter among the islands, nameless so none would note my lack of aging.
I stare now at my wrinkled hands that move the quill, the weak scratching at the parchment, the gray hairs that fall like late winter’s snow upon the drying ink. Elena’s last promise to me has been fulfilled. In that last moment of communion with her, when I touched that silver web, all the stories of the others flowed into me. I packed them away in trunks and cupboards. I did not want to face them in that dark time.
Only after all these centuries did I dare open those secret places in my heart and face those memories, those many lives. I see now why Elena set this task before me, for in these pages, in these stories, I found myself. I saw my journey, not only through the bitter lens of my own heart, but through so many other eyes. And in that moment of clarity, as I finish this story, I finally can do what had escaped me for so many centuries.
I can forgive myself.
Among these stories, I finally see that I was no better nor worse than my companions. We all had secrets, moments of ignominy and honor, cowardice and bravery—even Elena herself.
It is this knowledge that has finally broken the immortal spell. Elena had tied the magick to my heart’s guilt. And once this was absolved, the spell fell away.
At last I am free to pass to the Mother, as all good beings are allowed.
Even now, I sense a presence around me. Not the Mother, but something more intimate. Though there is no swirl of spirit nor dance of moonstone, I know someone stands with me. I can almost feel her breath on my cheek.
“Elena,” I whisper to the empty room.
And no words come, but I still sense some acknowledgment, a warmth in my heart. At the beginning of this tale, I told how I had described the wit’ch in countless ways: a buffoon, a prophet, a clown, a savior, a hero, and a villain. But in all the centuries, I never described her the way my heart knew her best—as my sister.
“What became of you and Er’ril?” I ask . . . because I never had before. “Did you live a long and happy life?”
Then came the barest whisper from across the ages, sad and joyful at the same time. We lived . . . That is all one can ask.
I cannot stand it any longer. I cry. Tears fall upon the parchment. My heart breaks and re-forms into something new, unstained and full of love.
And though not even a shadow moves, I sense a hand held out toward me. I can wait no longer. This is the end of all, my life, my tale, my place in the world and ways of Alasea.
So let me set aside my pen. I have a hand to take.
The Final Question of Scholarship
Why are the Kelvish Scrolls banned?
—Answer this thesis below in ink and seal with a palm print.
—Do not break the seal on the next pages until you have shown your answer to your assigned proctor.
Afterword
by
Jir’rob Sordun, D.F.S., M.A.,
Director of University Studies (U.D.B.)
Welcome, new scholars of the Commonwealth!
It is with great pleasure that I congratulate those who now read these pages. You have passed the final test and have been granted the crimson sash of graduation. As you are well aware, not all of your fellow students stand beside you. Many have walked the long road only to stumble at the very end. They have failed to answer the final question correctly.
Why have the texts been banned?
Of course, by the sashes you wear, you know with certainty the truth of your own answers, but it is just as important to know what others had written. There is a final lesson yet to be learned from those who were sent to the gallows of Au’tree.
For you see, the most common misconception of your failed brethren is to place too much power in the author of the Scrolls, the purported brother of Elena Morin’stal. They answered the final question by supposing that his words were indeed valid at the end, that magick would again return to the world with the dying of the Wit’ch Star. That is plainly absurd, a sure sign of a weak scholarly mind. They have clearly been duped and swayed by the insidious poison of the author.
No, of course, that is not the answer. The true danger of the text is found in Elena’s last supposed act: taking the magick and seeding it as special gifts throughout all lands, all peoples. As she says, “making each person equal.”
Here is the final and seductive treachery of the author.
Plainly, it is cruel to plant such delusions in some commoner working the fields or shoveling manure, to make him think he is equal to the oligarchs of the Commonwealth. And what of the slaves from the lands of Ee’when? Can you imagine if they thought themselves their masters’ equals? Such thoughts must be ground down, crushed under the heel of scholarship. Such seeds would lead to unrest, conflict, and disorder.
That must not happen. The Commonwealth is a beacon to all the peoples of the lands. At all costs, our caste systems must be maintained, and the hierarchy of our nobility perpetuated. Nothing must upset the beauty and structure that is our Oligarchy.
Order and rule will thrive.
Thus, you new guardians of the Commonwealth, scholars of antiquity and justice, have an especially important role in the decades that are to come. Celebrate tonight; then fold and box your sashes. There is much to be done. You are born in a time darker than my own. You will bear a greater burden of responsibility for the Commonwealth’s well-being.
For there is a reason your fellow students were hanged for their false and misconstrued answers. It stems from a bit of knowledge that our scholars of aetherology have discerned with their many lenses and scopes, a discovery kept hidden for two generations. I will write it here as an end to your lessons and as a final warning. Ponder it deeply and know the importance of your scholarship and diligence in the dark days to come.
Here is what you must know and keep secret.
Even as you read these words . . . the Wit’ch Star fades.
Also by James Clemens
Wit’ch Fire
Wit’ch Storm
Wit’ch War
Wit’ch Gate
A Del Rey® Book
Published by The Ballantine Publishing Group
Copyright © 2002 by Jim Czajkowski
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by The Ballantine Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
Del Rey is a registered trademark and the Del Rey colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.
www.delreydigital.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available
upon request from the publisher.
eISBN: 978-0-345-45873-5
v3.0
Wit'ch Star (v5) Page 64
