magical remedy, some honest hope for paradise within the swirl of chaos.
Or perhaps 1 have.
In considering only the desired destination, I blinded myself to the road; and there lies the truth, there lies the hope, there lies the meaning. Since the end seemed unattainable, I believed the journey futile, and there was my error-and one I will forgive myself because of my fog of grief.
No one can make the world perfect. Not Nightbird. Not King Danube. Not Father Abbot Agronguerre, nor father Abbot Markwart-and I do believe that Markwart, in his misguided way, tried to do just that-before him. No one, nor any one group, be it Church or Crown. Perhaps the perfect king could bring about paradise across the land-but for only a few short blinks in the rolling span of time. Even the great heroes, Terranen Dinoniel, Avelyn Desbris, and my own dear Nightbird, will fade in the fog of the ages, or their memories will be perverted and warped to suit the needs of current historians. Their message and their way will shine brightly, but briefly, in the context of history, because we are fallible creatures, doomed to forget and doomed to err.
Yet there is a point to it all. There is a meaning and a joy and a hope. For while perfection is not attainable, the glory and the satisfaction lie along the road.
And now I know, and perhaps this is the end of grief, that such a journey is worth taking. If all that I can accomplish is the betterment of a single day in the life of a single individual, then so be it. It is the attempt to do what is right-the attempt to move myself and those around me toward a better place-that is worth the sacrifice, however great that sacrifice must be.
Yes, I have lost my innocence. I have lost so many dear to me. Every day, I see the cairn ofElbryan. He was a ranger. He walked the road toward paradise with his eyes wide open and his heart full of hope and joy. He gave everything, his very life, trying to make the world a better place. futile?
Not to the people he saved. Not to the mothers and fathers who still have their children because of him. Not to the people ofCaer Tinella, who would have died in the forest at the hands of the goblins and powries had it not been for Nightbird. And hadAvelyn not given his life in destroying the physical manifestation of Bestesbulybar, then all the world would be a darker place by far.
Perhaps this is the end of my grief, for now when I look upon the grave ofElbryan, I know only calm. He is with me, every step of my own road.
That road is out ofDundalis, I know, out of the hiding place called Fellowship Way, to those places where I am needed most, whatever the personal price.
Yes, I see the world clearly, with all its soiled corners, with all of its cairns for buried heroes.
There is work yet to be done.
— Jilseponie Wyndon
Chapter 30
Nothing but sickness and death,' Belster O'Comely said with disgust, waving his hands and his bar rag about dramatically. He wasn't playing to any grand audience, though, for he and Pony were the only two in Fellowship Way at this early hour. 'What's in yer head, then?' Pony looked at him, her face masked in the perfect expression of calm. 'It is my place now,' she replied.
'Yer place?' Belster echoed. 'Didn't ye spend all yer breath in pullin' me up here? '
'And I did need to come up here,' Pony tried to explain, though she knew that the journey she had walked to get to this point was something quite beyond her pragmatic friend. 'And we have carved a good life out of Dundalis.'
'Then why leave?' Belster asked simply.
'I am needed in the south,' Pony said, for about the tenth time that morning.
Belster put on a contemplative expression and pose. 'So-just so I'm sortin' it out right-ye're wanting to come north when all the world's bright in the south, and now ye're wantin' to go south, when the darkness of the plague has swallowed the whole of it? ' The portly man shook his head and snorted. 'Chasin' darkness, are ye, girl?'
Pony started to reply, but stopped, realizing that she had little to say against that interpretation other actions. From Bolster's point of view, from the point of view of anyone who had not walked her recent spiritual path, it seemed that she was doing exactly that-chasing misery and darkness.
'Ye're goin' to get yerself sick and dead, is all,' Belster finished, and he wiped the rag hard across the bar.
Pony grabbed his arm and stared up at him, forcing him to look her directly in the eye. 'I might do just that,' she said in all seriousness. 'And I might go down there and do no good at all for anybody. But-can you not understand? — I have to try. I have been given this gift with the gemstones, a gift that the Abellican brothers claim is a direct calling from God. Am I to deny that? Am I to huddle with the hoarded gemstones while people around me suffer and die? '
'That's what them monks do,' Belster reminded.
'And they are wrong,' Pony insisted.
'The gemstones won't fix the rosy plague,' Bolster said. 'Ye did try, with Colleen and with others when ye were in Palmaris. Have ye forgotten that already? '
'I will never forget,' Pony grimly replied.
'Then why're ye pretendin' that ye don't know better?' Belster demanded. 'Ye fought the plague and it beat ye. Ye fought it again and it beat ye again-and ye're not the first to wage this battle. Them monks, they know the truth of it, and they admit the truth of it, and that's why they stay behind their walls.'
'No!' Pony interrupted. 'They hide because they are afraid.'
'Because they're smart.'
'Afraid,' Pony said again, firmly. 'They hide because they have found no answer and fear the consequences of trying. If Avelyn thought along those same lines, would he have ever gone to Mount Aida after the demon dactyl? If Nightbird thought along those same lines, would he have joined me in my fight against Markwart? '
Belster started to respond, but Pony knew what was coming and cut him short. 'Yes, they are both dead,' she said before he could. 'But think of what might have happened if they had not tried, if they had not gone against their fears and won a battle that none believed they possibly could.'
Belster gave a great sigh of surrender.
The door to Fellowship Way banged open then, for the first time that morning, and a young man, Harley Oleman, crashed in, obviously agitated.
'It's here! It's here!' he cried. 'The rosy plague's found us!'
Pony looked at Belster.
'Jonno Drinks,' Harley Oleman explained. 'Jonno Drinks' got the rings!'
'Ye wanted yer fight,' Belster said quietly to Pony. 'Seems like it found ye here.'
Pony dropped her hand into her gem pouch and produced the deep gray hematite, the soul stone, holding it up before Belster. 'A fight that I am more than ready to wage,' she said determinedly. She headed for the door, motioning for Harley Oleman to follow her.
'He should be put right out,' Harley started to say, turning to plead with Belster as he did, for it was perfectly obvious that Pony wouldn't be seeing things quite that way.
Pony knew Jonno Drinks, though not well, but even if she didn't know him at all, it wouldn't have been hard for her to figure out which cottage belonged to him. A crowd had gathered outside the small shack, many cursing and demanding that the man walk out of the house and out of their town.
They quieted considerably when Pony came through their ranks, casting stern glances at each and every one. 'Compassion is salvation,' she reminded them. 'Woe to you if you get the plague and die, but all the more woe to you if that happens after you have shown such cruelty to your fellows.'
And after the woman they held up as a great hero put them in their place, Pony stunned them even more by striding right up to Jonno Drinks' door, and after a sharp rap to let the sick man know she was coming, right into the house.
