26. Epilogue
Epilogue
I waited patiently at the drawbridge entrance that had not been raised since Irin returned to Gilamorst over three months ago.
Maybe part of me wished for him to climb over the hills again, with the wedding parade he’d threatened to bring and an engagement ring clutched in his fist. We’d continued to send letters since our parting…
he sketched a new design for the ring at the bottom of every single one.
He even sent over some clothes in the likeness of what Julran fashion used to be, based on his research.
It was a thoughtful gift, one that almost brought tears to my eyes when I pulled a form-fitting tunic from its wrapping paper.
It looked just like the one I wore in the portrait that hung in the Necromancy Guild, in the Hilj house colors of deep blue and silver.
Our scrying sessions were less sparse than the letters, perhaps once a moon phase, and they had quickly become the most anticipated days in my otherwise busy life.
It was a slow process on his side, reconstructing an entire country’s belief of women being lesser than men.
From what Irin told me of his efforts, more of the spellcaster guilds' membership included women in their rosters now, and because of the growing workforce more families were being lifted from poverty and able to support children that would have been sent to the orphanage otherwise.
Likewise, more children were also being reclaimed or adopted from said orphanage, now that wealth was more equally distributed between social classes.
He had also created a scholarship, named after Trisne Pid, to send young women on the cusp of adulthood for internships in the City of Scholars, to study in the Covenant Library with researchers they are paired with in their fields of interest. It had a twofold purpose, to get women of marriageable age out of Gilamorst to experience more of the world than what was previously offered, and provide them employable experience should they decide to leave the City of Scholars after their appointed year of interning.
Truly, it was a revolutionary idea for Respar, one that I was immensely proud of Irin for spearheading.
Fortunately, the search for Julran refugees willing to move back to their motherland was moving much faster than the updating of Resparian social expectations.
I was anticipating the first group—two hundred and three at last count during our last scrying—to arrive within the next couple of days.
It had been a slow process rebuilding the surrounding homes, with just me and the undead I raised to enlist some help, but I refused to have the people I was welcoming to Julra have to rebuild it all themselves.
In my mind, it was like inviting guests to my home and expecting them to clean their own room and cook their own meals.
Irin calls me stubborn. I asked if he expected any less, to which he just laughed at me.
My hope was to have anyone who claimed Julran lineage, whether they were pure or of mixed blood, to feel comfortable enough to stay in Julra and breathe new life into this frigid land.
From the pamphlets I drafted and sent to be mass-produced in Respar, I gave no rose-colored description of possible hardships.
Still, the fact that so many still wanted to join me after my warning warmed my heart.
Now, I stood at the entrance to the Clifftombs and waited for a different guest. One that was no less special, but touching in a different way.
She was right on time, the morning sun barely free from the horizon, when her kisteral came into view over a rolling hill.
Silver-and-black hair, previously bound in a braid tossed over her shoulder, was very disheveled from the rowdy sea breeze playing with it.
She didn’t even seem to acknowledge her wild appearance, her whole face lighting up at seeing me waiting for her at the Clifftombs entrance.
The woman barely even let the kisteral stop before jumping off its back.
She looked to be at least in her sixties, but acted as spry as a young adult as she openly gawked at me.
“My gods, it’s really you!” She stumbled forward, catching my outstretched hand as more of a brace than a gesture of introduction.
A large, bulky leather satchel was slung across her back and threw her off-balance even more.
“You look almost exactly as the artists portrayed you in Father’s research.
I can't even… Father would have…" Her voice choked off on a tight chuckle, and she hastily wiped her eyes.
"How amazing to meet you in person like this!”
A warm smile lit my face. My head bowed as far as the Julran collar would allow, wrapped as it was around my neck and shoulders.
The cool press of metal was a comfort to me now, something I didn’t realize I missed until I returned to my original body.
“It is a pleasure to meet you as well. Scholar Janna Henash, correct?”
“Wend-Henash, yes,” she answered breathlessly. “I choose to honor Father’s memory by keeping his surname with my married name for research publications.”
“That is a noble way to commemorate him. Yuret was a brilliant and compassionate scholar, and his research of Julra was a delight to read.”
Janna’s mouth gaped open and shut like a fish gasping for air. “Wha… what? Did you meet him? How? Father died almost forty years ago! Unless…” Her expression turned sly. “You are full of secrets, aren’t you?”
At that, I laugh heartily. “I’m sure he is rolling in his grave to know I had, in fact, met him while he was alive.”
“I’m shocked you were able to manage that without his knowing. He was fortunate—or maybe unfortunate—enough to be a truthsayer. He was very sensitive to lies and deception. I think that’s what made him perfect for interviewing refugees from Julra for his book.”
My lips twisted to a more mischievous smirk. “I was aware. Yuret was a bit of a… test of my own skill, so to speak. But please, join me inside. It is too cold to stay out here.”
Janna nodded and hustled to fall in step beside me, her much shorter stature making it a bit of a challenge to match my long-legged stride as she pulled her mount along.
“To think, I’m walking with the Princept Morrette Hilj!
I feel like I’ve known you my whole life, watching Father write ‘The Tragic History of Julra’ about you and your people.
Thank you so much for this opportunity to speak with you at length for the second edition. ”
“I am grateful to be included in your research.” I tilted my head to the side to take in her wide-eyed stare. “May I ask why you did not want to make a second volume, instead of just a second edition of your father’s book?”
Janna smiled back, but her hazel eyes were watery again.
Coupled with the inky blue-black hair—now streaked with white with her age—and mid-toned skin covered in freckles, the marks of a Julran ancestor were obvious.
I saw those parts of Sinna in Janna, in the way she wrinkled her nose when she laughed and the deep dimples when she smiled.
Parts that her brother Olin would have shared, were he still alive.
It warmed my heart to see that the Val Toric line carried on with her.
“That book is my father’s legacy," Janna explained. "I would rather add onto it, then overshadow it with my own account of the history of Julra. His work has paved so many avenues for the City of Scholars and the country of Respar beyond his wildest dreams, both in historical research and spell-casting examination. I just… couldn’t bear to take away from that.”
“I understand what you mean.” I lifted my gaze to the ruins of the palace I was steadily rebuilding.
Against the relentless beating of ocean waves and the wind, it looked formidable and resolute even as it sat in shambles.
“I hope we can build a new future together, Scholar.
Until then, I am happy to answer anything you'd like to know about me and my country.”
Janna's joy was palpable, her eyes shining as she looked up at me like I was some kind of god.
“This is so exciting! Definitely the most anticipated release the City has ever seen!
King Irin has already requested his own copy of the second edition!
He has been so much more supportive of the Covenant Library and its research since taking the throne.
We've had such a huge influx of new researchers hoping to intern with us! And his personal funding has helped with some much-needed repairs and expansions to the Library!”
“I’m happy to hear that,” I answered. “Perhaps you can help me deter him from marriage with my more gruesome war stories. Or help him spend so much money he can't afford a wedding.”
My tone was dry, but it had Janna cackling so hard she bent in half. I joined in, and the happy sounds bounced pleasantly off the stone wall of the Clifftombs. It had been a long time since anything beyond the sounds of battle or rolling waves of the sea hitting the cliffs filled the chilly air.
Janna was wiping tears from her eyes by the time we managed to compose ourselves.
We stepped off the long drawbridge and through the open gate into courtyard, now cleared out with trimmed wiranblood bushes lining a grey cobblestone path to the castle's entrance.
“With how fervently he devoured every document we had on Julra and your personal history, I doubt he will be that easy to scare off.”
“Yes, that is one of his more admirable qualities,” I agreed. “So, tell me more about your father, Janna. I want to know all about the man who spent his life studying mine.”