Epilogue

      PROLOGUE

      A wise man, whose name unfortunately has been forgotten, said that the journey of a thousand leagues begins with a single step.

      My journey started well over a month ago, and nobody knows when it will end – not a single person. Perhaps it is only the sublime stars on the canvas of the night sky that know – those stars which I wholeheartedly love. But even if they do know, they will hardly reveal it.

      I left my family, my home… and my heart tells me that this time, I’ll be gone for a long time, perhaps forever.

      Great Asters! What nonsense, indeed… I keep telling myself. I am no longer that same impressionable girl who admired the wide and many-faced world. The world that carries the name Elinor. Now I am a teacher and mentor to such girls. But for some reason (it might be that my hunch is awakening, a hunch that has never lied to me; or that old childhood dreams never died, but only subsided), I believe that my journey will not just be long, but great. And… yes, I’ll write it. It will end at the Edge of the World.

      Oh, sandy depths! At last, I admitted it to myself…

      Well, it is likely that in half a century, this diary will be read by my grandchildren who will smile to themselves, although not in the open – for it is indecent – about the erstwhile dream of their grandmother, who at the time will be quietly rocking in her chair, trying to embroider patterns on their robes with a large needle in her shaking hands.

      What am I talking about? As though I don’t regret wasting neither ink, nor paper, nor my time! It is better to get to the point!

      Today turned out to be a day off. The owner of the caravan is unwell – he probably overate again in the heat. Therefore, everyone – merchants, warriors, and my students – are spending the day under the shelter of the tents, set up in a small oasis.

      There are a few trees here, but there is a stream and a rocky ridge, so the heat is not felt, and the break is truly enjoyable. It is strange that no one has built an outpost next to the oasis with a camel yard and teahouse yet.

      As though we are not following the main tract!

      But according to an astronomer’s calculations (a real astronomer!), in a couple of weeks we will reach our final destination.

      I will finally contemplate the Valley of the Ancestors – the heart of Elinor!

      The Valley of the Ancestors or, as many say, the Valley, is where life began. It was from the Valley of the Ancestors that the new people of the Third Race dispersed throughout the lands of Elinor and settled there. It was then that a man named Tosho, who became emperor and subsequently acquired immortality, led likeminded people to the north; it was then that the Valley’s migrants went into the deep forests where they met the Ved tribe and founded the Vedich nation; it was then that the father-founder of our glorious Djunitian people, the great Marawie, led people into the endless desert.

      And now the people of the desert are returning to the Valley. It is like a time rotation.

      Emperor Tosho founded the Itoshinian nation, from which came two more races, the Ulutau and the Tuasmatus. The Taurs evolved from the Vedichs, and the Guawars evolved from the Djunits. Only the carefree Chekatta remained in the prairies near the Valley of the Ancestors.

      The Valley itself and its Great Cities of Dalaal, Konolwar, Eavette, and Mata-Mata were fragrant with life in the heart of the Elinor, at the crossroads of trade routes, at the junction of customs and cultures of people who had become so different from each other, so unique. Though the Valley had always been a separate state, it would nonetheless welcome any visitors from distant lands. Every inhabitant of the Valley now associated him/herself with some nation, still primarily remaining a resident of the Valley, a sort of representative of the Ninth nation, a collective image of all the people of Elinor.

      Perhaps this is the essence of existence? Parents raise their children, care for them, protect them… but they eventually lose their power, become senile, and then the grown-up and established children must take care of their parents.

      Similarly, the Valley gave birth to and brought up eight nations. But at a certain point, it died. The Valley had become deserted. And now the children of the Valley, the representatives of the eight nations, have hit the road to resurrect their mother – to fill her with life. Our caravan is heading north to bring to the Great Cities the necessity – people. Many caravans took off several months ahead of us and many will follow.

      From distant lands, from the remaining seven nations, other envoys head to the Valley. Soon, I will meet again the Taurs, Guawars, Itoshins, and Mechanicum, who I haven’t seen for a long time. I look forward to getting to know the Ulutau and Chekatta, who I have never seen in my life, and so much more! And the Vedichs! The Vedichs themselves! The people who can shape-shift into the beasts of the forest! However, none of the venerable scientists have confirmed this, and those sources that even the most distinguished historians have relied upon seem quite dubious. But that’s how the legends go, and I myself am not sure if I’m inclined to believe them or not.

      Here I write about what I am waiting for, what will happen in the future. I write