Epilogue - Home At Last

It was spooky how little things had changed. Simon walked through the monastery gates and for a moment it was like he was just coming back from a short stroll on the market. Everything was so calm, so peaceful, the very air was easier to breathe. The tree large in the corner had the washed-out colours of early autumn. The goat-house had new thatching on the roof. Otherwise, everything was just the same.

And then they came. The children were the first to notice the newcomers. Foaly-legged Emma, now eleven years old. Derrick, her little shadow, never far behind. Five-year old Mary, dragging her threadbare homemade doll wherever she went. The twins, shouting loudly for attention, finishing off each other's sentences. Kit, with dirt under his fingernails and grassflecked knees.

They were all over him, clinging around his neck, telling him how much they had missed him, squeezing his arms to feel the muscle, patting the coarse stubble on his chin, wondering if he was going to have a beard now?

And Simon laughed, and said that no, he was definitely not going to have a beard, he was going to bath and shave this very moment, thank you very much, and of course he had missed them too, and he felt so finally, wonderfully at home that he though his chest would explode into a thousand happy little pieces.

Sister Kate and Sister Clemata came down to the yard and relieved him of the children, so that he, Caran and Miri could get a chance to wash away the travel dust they were covered in after almost three weeks on the road, and then they got a home-cooked meal, something that was not beans and salted pork, or flavored with Samoth spices.

That night, Simon went to sleep in his own room, in his own bed, under the quilt he had helped sister Clemata patch together ages ago. The next day, he went to Morning Prayer, and then to the Room of Records, where brother Aron, a little more wrinkled, a little more greyed, a little more bowed, only looked up from an enourmous old tome and said: "There you are, son, what took you so long? The manuscripts over there needs sorting."

And everything went back to to normal.

Well, not exactly everything. Caran was still there, walking around the monastery, exploring every corner, and sitting in front of the fire, talking with sister Kate in the evenings. Simon had honestly not expected her to stay for as long as she had. A few days, maybe a week. But the weeks turned to months. Autumn came. The treetops turned to gold and fire, the flowers wilted, and the storms shook the monastery tower. Caran was still there, sometimes accompanying Miri on her daily treks to Oakside and back, but always returning in the evening.

It was like she needed the peace and the calm. Bask in it somehow, refill her storages. There were times where Simon saw her stand in the yard, eyes closed, just breathing in and out, and he thought that maybe the events in Nima had affected her more than she wanted to show.

But Caran was Caran, and eventually the day came when she left. It had been raining that night, and there were puddles of mud in the courtyard. Simon was walking down the stairs outside the hospital, following Emma and Derrick to their morning lessons. He saw her just before she had reached the open gates and shouted her name. She turned her flaming red head around, and smiled happily, as if she had expected him to notice her sneaking away but still had had harboured some doubts.

He took the three last steps of the staircase in one flying jump and landed on the ground with a grace that even surprised himself. Caran waited, still smiling, while he casually strolled over the yard and came within speaking distance to her.

“You weren’t going to leave without saying goodbye, were you?”

She laughed. “Not really. Just wanted to check.”

“If I cared? Of course I do.”

If Caran had ever looked sheepish, she did now, but she found herself quickly. “You’ve grown up a great deal, word-master.”

“Wars do that to people.”

“True.” She looked back over the yard at the monastery buildings, the hospital, the living quarters and the chapel with the many-coloured glass windows. Then she turned her gaze over to the open gates and down the road that led down to Kasvor.

“Where are you going?” asked Simon curiously. He recognized that look in her eyes, the restless, sort of trapped feeling. Caran did not take her eyes of the road as she answered.

“Wherever the road and my feet takes me. East to begin with. Got to see how Quin's settling back home.” She tore away her gaze from the way out of Kasvor and met Simon’s eyes. "You’re welcome to join me.”

She spoke in earnest. Simon could tell that she really wanted him to come. And something from the road was calling, pulling at his legs and his feet, telling him to take a cloak and a walking stick and just leave together with her.

Only, Emma and Derrick still stood on the top of the hospital stairs, holding each others' hands. They had not done that since Emma was eight and decided that she was too old for childish things like holding hands. Emma, who's father had died in the war, who's mother had been killed by a gaur. Derrick, who had lost both his parent's in the fever six winters ago. The rest of the children, the orphans, who had already been abandoned too many times in their short lives. Simon thought of them, and suddenly the voice of the road was not so loud anymore.

“I’d like to", he said. "But I’m not quite finished here yet.”

“I thought you’d say that.”

“Come by in the spring and see if I’ve changed my mind.”

"I'll take you up on that, word-master. Will you come with me as far as Oakside? Got to say goodbye to Miri."

Simon could agree to that at least, and went to get his cloak and assure Emma and Derrick that he was just going for a short walk and would be back soon.

Miri had been staying in Oakside with Daniel and his father for the past week, after old Da Smith had exclaimed one afternoon that all this running between the monastery and the village was growing tiresome, and was it not better for everyone involved if she just stayed in Oakside? Miri had not protested.

It took them an two hours to Oakside and Simon was covered in mud to the knees when they reached the village square, the Smiths' little house and the forge. The sky was grey, promising more rain to come before the day was over. Caran's hair was curling in the damp air. It had grown long enough for her now to tie it up with a piece of string.

Daniel came out of the forge when he heard them, dressed in a leather apron full of burn marks and soot stains. He was limping on his new wooden leg, but there was a broad grin on his face. The loss of a limb did not seem to have made any lasting imprint on Daniel Smith's character.

Daniel waved at Simon and Caran, and then he turned to the house and shouted for Miri. She showed up in the door a moment later, red in the face, with her sleeves rolled up and a generous amount of flour in her hair.

"Simon! Caran! You're just in time, Da is teaching me how to bake bread and the first loaves will be ready any minute, come in and have some tea!"

Caran smiled at the girl, but shook her head. "Sorry, I'm just passing through today."

Miri's expression changed, the excited look in her eyes faltered. "You...you're not leaving, are you?"

"It's 'bout time", said Caran, glancing at the road that lead east out of Oakside. "Been lazing 'round here long enough." The look in her eyes softened at Miri's unhappy face. "You know me, Miri, I'm not the kind to settle down. Now, you, on the other hand. This place suits you. You'll do fine here."

Miri looked from Caran, to Daniel, to the house and the forge. "Oh, I know I will. It's just... it'll be empty without you around."

"You'll get used to it", said Caran, smiling. "Just promise me one thing, Miriela Jester. Make up with your parents again, while you still have them. Life's too short, you know."

Miri frowned at that, not really comfortable talking about her family. "I'll invite them to the wedding, and they can decide if they want to come or not. That way, they won't be able to stop me, and..." sudden tears welled up in her eyes, "...Caran, I'm going to miss you so very much!"

“Don’t go all emotional on me now, girl. It’s not like we’ll never see each other again.”

“You promise?” asked Miri with a shaky smile.

“Sure I do”, said Caran and grinned as her eyes turned to Daniel. “I’ll drop by now and then to make sure this questionable character treats you right.”

“Don’t worry, ma’am, I will”, said Daniel and put his arm around Miri’s shoulders.

“Cut that ‘ma’am’ talk.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Miri dried her tears and hugged Caran so hard she wheezed. Simon reached out his hand for the red-haired woman to shake, but found himself drawn into a tight embrace himself. He was a bit surprised at the show of affection on Caran's part, but very pleased.

“Take care of yourself, Caran", he said when she finally let him go. "Be careful.”

“I’m always careful. I wouldn’t be…”

“…alive if you weren’t. I know. But be careful anyway.”

Caran grinned. Her fingers went up to her throath and the little wooden sculpture of a fox that Quinland had given he in Sinad. Her brown eyes were warm, and very soft. "I'll be careful. I'll see you in the spring, word-master."

And so she went, over the square, straight through the puddles, and out on the eastbound path. Daniel went back into his forge and left Simon and Miri alone in front of the house.

“You really think we’ll see her again?” asked Miri without taking her eyes from the diminishing figure disappearing around a bend in the road.

“Yes, I do”, answered Simon. “She’ll keep looking after us.”

Miri shook some of the flour from her hair and went to sit down on the little grey bench that was placed under the kitchen window. Simon kept watching Caran until she was completely out of view. Then he went to join Miri.

“Well, it was a real adventure", she said after a while. "It’s almost strange that it’s all over.”

Simon had thought of that many times, and he had thought of the strange dreams he had been having, and it was with them in mind he answered: “I don’t think it’s really over. Nothing’s ever over. It just turns into different things. And as long as Caran’s around, things will keep happening.”

Miri gave him a curious little look. "I never expected to be a war hero, that’s all. I don’t feel very heroic.”

“Me neither. I’m not much of a hero anyway. Actually, I don’t even believe in heroes anymore. There aren’t any heroes, just people that fit into stories.”

“Do you think people will tell stories about us in hundred year’s time?” asked Miri thoughfully.

“I don’t know. I guess it depends on how people remember us.”

Miriela straightened up with bright eyes and put an eager hand on Simon's shoulder. "You should write it all down, Simon. Make sure they remember it the right way.”

He looked at her, not really understanding. “What difference would it make?”

“Because those people in the old stories, they were never afraid. They just took their weapons and went out and vanquished evil hordes and all that, and no one ever speaks a word about how scared they must’ve been. I was afraid the whole time, every single second. Everyone was. You should write it down, the way it was. Write about how horrible it was and all the people who died. You have to write about Annie.” She paused to catch her breath. “We got there by accident, you know. If I had stayed at home and got married like dad wanted me to, I’d never have been there. I’d never had met Caran.” She smiled softly. “I’d never had met Daniel. I can’t stop thinking of that, if things had been just a little different…”

"I know", said Simon quietly. He had been thinking a lot about that as well. What if Caran had decided to leave him on his own that spring-day so many months ago? He would have gone back to the monastery. Maybe been able to hide from the Army, but probably not. He could have been recruited and put in another company and another ring. He could have been one of the unfortunate people who had not had a Caran Fox to watch over them. He could have been dead.

Miri stood up. "Those loaves should be out of the oven now", she said. "Why don't you come inside for a while?"

Simon looked at the sky. It was getting darker now, rain-heavy cloads descending by the minute. "Another time", he said. "I'll have to get back home before it starts to rain."

That, and he actually started to think Miri was right. Someone should make sure people remembered things the way they had been for them. Maybe it would just be a record among thousand others, hidden away in some dark dusty corner. But it would be there, and someday, a hundred years from now, a young boy or a young girl, too nosy for their own good, would find it and read it.

Simon did not make it back to Kasvor before the rain, and he was well and truly soaked upon his return. He took off his sodden clothes, changed into a dry tunic and went to the Room of Records, where he knew there would be a fire going in the hearth. Brother Aron felt his artrithis this time of the year.

The old monk was asleep in his chair when Simon came in. He sat down at his desk. Outside the window, brown leaves were falling from the tree in the courtyard. The rain turned them into a soggy mess beneath the tree. Simon watched them dance towards the ground as he thought back on the months that had passed since it all began. Then he pulled out a blank sheet of paper, dipped the quill in the inkpot and stared into empty space for a moment, before he put the quill to the paper and started to write:

Year 289, EA

The spring sun was shining in through the high painted windows in the chapel during Morning Prayer…

THE END

There, it’s finally finished. A great big THANKS to everyone who’s been sticking with me to the end. Even though I’ve pretty much devoted my life to the written word, there simply is no way to describe how much I love you all and how much I have appreciated your support. I dedicate this novel to everyone who has been reading, for all the insightful and honest comments and all the encouragement. From the bottom of my black little heart: Thank you.

Some of you might not like this ending, since it’s not the pink-and-fluffy-clouds-happy-ending that I think many has hoped for. Don’t despair; there are at least two sequels to go before this tale is completely finished. Like I could ever let go of Caran & co...

But until then: Look! I wrote a novel! Now I'm gonna go and get drunk.