The Trouble With Clerics
Epilogue. Melisante's Story
The Great School of Magic, Glantri City.
Melisante Erewan walked again in the secret passages beneath the Great School of Magic, sometimes known as the Wizard Warrens. She was headed toward a certain hidden underground library. Though she was gazing into her palm-sized crystal ball, looking out after protective enchantments, dangerous traps, and even monsters guarding the area, her mind was thinking back on the disconcerting conversation that had brought her here on this assignment.
Beatriz Dominatore of the Paparazzi Glantri had asked to meet with her privately. Melisante already knew what the matter would be about, and attempted to preempt Beatriz.
“I would like you, Melisante, to get to the bottom of the matter with these clerics.”
“I was planning to go to Morlay-Malinbois to investigate the werebear clerics that Prince Malachie is harboring. There’s also the matter of the Church of Saimpt Joan in Fenswick, and my divinations reveal that the Alphatian cult of Palartarkan has survived the Great Meteor crash, even if the Principality of Blackhill did not.”
“No, Melisante,” Beatriz said adamantly, “The trouble with the clerics and the Alexander Day Massacre began with what they call La Milagro de Los Amantes. The question is: Why did the Immortal Valerias choose the party of Princess Carnelia de Belcadiz to manifest herself?”
Melisante knew what the assignment would entail and wanted no part in this.
“Why not Felicidad?” Melisante asked, knowing it was a vain attempt to pass the duty to the Liaison to Belcadiz.
“I do not trust Felicidad,” Beatriz said plainly. “I trust that you will provide the Paparazzi the proper information it needs.”
Trust—and the Paparazzi. A laughable thought, thought Melisante.
She now stood in front of an old oak door. It had no design to the naked eye, but Melisante knew what she was looking for. With a simple spell she recited, there emerged an emblem on the door glowing like fine silver: a delicate woman’s hand its palm facing up. She recognized it, for she had the same symbol magically tattooed on her shoulder just off the sleeve.
It was the symbol of the Secret Craft of Witchcraft, of which Princesa Carnelia de Belcadiz was the High Mistress.
Melisante cautiously opened the door to the secret library and searched the shelves and books, which despite being unvisited and unused for a long time, were magically kept free of dust and decay.
The final words of Beatriz Dominatore rang in Melisante’s memory.
“The Immortals do not act out of random chance. There must be some connection between Valerias and the Princess of Belcadiz.”
And of course there was a connection, Melisante thought. In fact, the connection would be found there in that book before her that she finally found: La Historia Arcana de Las Brujas y La Hichería de Belcadiz, “The Arcane History of Witches and Witchcraft in Belcadiz.”
Melisante checked for wards and magic on the tome. Confident that there were none, she opened the book and began perusing.
The book talked about the Belcadiz elves and their mysterious origins. A hostile world of extreme and chaotic environments. A harsh deity of nature and fertility who shared with her mortal followers a magical craft for survival. An Old Religion of ancient past, ancient even to the long-lived elves. A clan of distressed elves on a cosmic journey. A savage new world of nomadic men, goblinoid hordes, and lesser forest elves. Suspicion, betrayal, murder, religious persecution. And finally, a clandestine matriarchy of wise, empowered elven, passing their secret traditions from mother to daughter.
As Melisante read the tome, she wondered just how much she could reveal to Beatriz without betraying her own loyalties to the Witches.
The End
