The Time of Contempt

by Andrzej Sapkowski

  The greenhaired was silent for a while and looked away.

  ‘I did not either,’ she said and disappeared into the undergrowth.

  The witcher returned after about an hour. He led two saddled horses - Pegas and a brown mare. On the mare were bloodstains.

  ‘That is an elven horse eh? Of those who came through the river?’

  ‘Yes’ confirmed Geralt. His face was motionless and his voice was alien. ‘That is an elven mare. I will take her. Once I have the opportunity, I will trade her for a horse, that knows how to carry a wounded man, and if the wounded falls, stays with him. They did not teach that to this mare.’

  ‘Are we leaving?’

  ‘You are leaving,’ the witcher handed Dandelion his reins. ‘Farewell, Dandelion. The dryads will accompany you two miles upstream and there you can go, and not fall into the hands of the Brugge mercanaries, that still could be waiting on the other shore.’

  ‘And you? Will you stay here?’

  ‘No, I wont.’

  ‘You learned something? From the Squirells? Something about Ciri?’

  ‘Good luck, Dandelion.’

  ‘Geralt! Listen…’

  ‘What should I listen to?’ shouted the witcher and his voice broke. ‘I cant… I cant just leave her to her destiny. She is alone… She must not be alone, Dandelion! You cannot understand that. No one understands but I know… If she is alone, the same thing will happen as before… What once happened to me… You dont understand…’

  ‘I understand. Thats why Im going with you.’

  ‘Are you insane? Do you know where Im heading?’

  ‘I know Geralt, I… I didnt tell you everything, I… I feel guilty. I didnt do anything, I did not know what to do… But now I know. I will go with you. Im your friend. I did not tell you… about Ciri, about the gossip I heard. I met friends from Kovir, that heard with their own ears the messages, that came from Nilfgaard,,, I figure that those messages may have reached the Squirells. That you already know everything from the elves that came through the Ribbon. But allow… that it will be me… that tell you everything…’

  The witcher stood with his head and clueless hands hanging.

  ‘Jump on your horse,’ he finally said with a resignated voice. ‘You will tell me on the way.’

  * * *

  That morning, an unusual excitement reigned over castle Loc Grim, the summer residence of the Emperor. Even more unusual because all excitement and impatience surely did not belong to the customs of the Nilfgaardian nobility and all expressions of impatience and excitement were regarded as inmature. Similar behaviour was regarded as punishable by the Nilfgaardian aristocracy, that even the inmature youth was ahshamed of it, and for them, excitement and inmature feelings were natural and excusable.

  That morning on Loc Grim, no youth was present, they had no place here. The great throne room was filled by serious and stern magnates, squires and knights, all dressed in ceremonial court black, like one man, refreshed only by white collars and cuffs. The men were accompanied by equally serious and stern ladies, whom customs allowed to decorate their black dresses with jewelry. All showed dignity, seriousnes and strictness. But in truth, they were incredibly excited.

  ‘They say she is ugly. Thin and ugly.’

  ‘But it is supposed to be royal blood.’

  ‘From a illegitimate annexion.

  ‘Nothing like that. She is no bastard.’

  ‘Will she sit on the throne then?’

  ‘The Emperor will decide…’

  ‘Aw hell, look at Ardal aep Dahy and Prince de Wett… How they are looking… As if they drank vinegar…’

  ‘Silence, Graf… Are you suprised? If something from the gossip is true, then Emhyr will give the squares to an ancient lineage. He will humiliate them…’

  ‘Gossip will remain gossip, it will not be confirmed. The Emperor will not marry that bastard! He cannot do that…’

  ‘Emhyr can do anything. Careful with your words baron, be careful what you say. There have been people who said that the Emperor cannot do this or that. They end up on executed.’

  ‘I heard he already signed the decree, where he assessed the allowance. Three hundred talents of annual rent. Consider that.’

  ‘And the title of Infanta. Did any of you see her?’

  ‘Immediately after arriving she was entrusted to Countess Liddertal. Her house is guarded now.’

  ‘The Countess probably got the order to teach that brat some manners. A new Infanta is said to behave like the child of cows.’

  ‘What is so strange about that? She is from the north, from the barbaric Cintra…’

  ‘The more are the gossip about Emhyrs wedding more unlikely. No, no, that is completely impossible. The Emperor will marry de Wetts youngest daughter, as was established. He will not marry that self proclaimed princess!’

  ‘It is about time he marries someone at all. For the dynasty… It is about time Nilfgaard gets a crown prince…’

  ‘Then let him marry. Of course not with that barbaric tomboy!’

  ‘Quieter, not so loud! I assure you, dear gentlemen, that will not happen. What goal would such a marriage further?’

  ‘Politics, Comtesse. We are at war. Such a marriage would have politcal but also strategical importance… The dynasty, from which the Infant comes from, has legal titles and recognized feudal rights for the lands around the Lower Yarra. If she becomes the wife of the Emperor… Ha that would be a move! Look there at ambassador Esterad, how they whisper…’

  ‘I hope that your eccentric theory is not serious, prince? Or did you advise Emhyr to do that?’

  ‘It is my business, what I mean seriously and what not. As for the Emperors decision, you would do best if you would not question it. You and everyone else.’

  ‘So he already decided?’

  ‘I do not judge.

  ‘Then you are wrong.’

  ‘What do you mean, lady?’

  ‘Emhyr banished Baroness Tarnhann from the court. He ordered her to return to her husband.’

  ‘He drove out Dervla Tryffin Broine? Impossible! She was his favorite for three years…’

  ‘I repeat, he sent her away from the court.’

  ‘That is true. I heard that, Dervla Goldhair caused a horrible scene. Four guards had to forcibly push her into the carriage…’

  ‘Her husband will be happy…’

  ‘I doubt it.

  ‘By the Great Sun! Emhyr rejected Dervla? Kicked her out because of that foundling? Because of that barbarian from the North?’

  ‘Quieter! Quieter, curse you…’

  ‘Who is behind it? What side?’

  ‘Quieter, please. They are watching us…’

  ‘That small bitch… I mean infant… is said to be ugly. Once the Emperor sees her…’

  ‘You mean, he has not seen her yet?’

  ‘He did not have time. He came from Darn Ruach an hour ago.’

  ‘Emhyr never chose an ugly one. Aine Dermott… Clara aep Gwydolyn Gor…Dervla Tryffin Broine… All beauties…’

  ‘Perhaps that savage will grow pretty…’

  ‘Once she bathes? I heard the nobility of the North does not do that often….’

  ‘Careful with your words. You may be talking about the future Emperors wife…’

  ‘She is still a child. She is not older than fourteen.’

  ‘It would obviously be a political marriage… A pure formality…’

  ‘If that was the truth, then Dervla Goldhair would remain in the court. The Cintran waif, politically and formally on the throne at Emhyrs side… And in the evenings, Emhyr would give her the crown jewels to play with and he would dissapear into Dervla’s room… At least until she gets old enough to give him an heir.’

  ‘Hmm… you may be right. So what is the name of this…. infant?’

  ‘Xerella or something like that.’

  ‘No, no. It is… Zirilla. Yes, Zirilla.’

  ‘A barbaric name!’

 
‘Quieter, damn it!’

  ‘Keep the seriousness. You are acting like some fools.’

  ‘You dare! I might consider those words an insult!’

  ‘If you want satisfaction, paladin, you know where you will find me!’

  ‘Silence. The Emperor…’

  The herold did not have to do much: a single tap of the pole on the floor was enough for the heads of the nobility and knighthood to bow down like crops on a windy day. Such silence grew in the throne room, that the herold did not even have to raise his voice:

  ‘Emhyr var Emreis, Deithwen Addan yn Carp aep Morvudd!’

  The White Flame Dancing on the Grave-Mounds of Enemies entered the room. With his usual lively walk, his right hand energeticaly waving his right hand, he walked the Wall of nobility. The Emperor‘s black dress did not differ from others, though it lacked the laced collars and cuffs. His black hair, never artificially curled, was held by a thin gold band, on his neck, the imperial chain gleamed.

  Emhyr walked on the podium and casually sat down on the throne, put his elbow on the armrest and put his hand under his chin. He did not swing his leg on the other armrest, which meant, that the ceremony is still in effect. None of the bowed heads rose even an inch.

  The Emperor loudly cleared his throat. The guests let out a breath and stood upright. The herold tapped the floor a second time.

  ‘Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Princess of Cintra, Princess of Brugge and duchess of Sodden, heiress of Inis Ard Skellig and Inis An Skellig, protector of Attre and Abb Yarra!’

  All eyes turned to the doors, where a tall, dignous Stella Congreve, comtesse of Liddertal stood. Next to the comtesse, stood the holder of all the previously listen magistral titles. Blond, pale, skinny, slightly stooped, dresses in a long lightblue dress in which she obviously felt uneasy.

  ‘Emhyr Deithwen straightened up in his throne, the guests immediately bowed down. Stella Congreve inconspicuously pushed the blonde girl forward and both walked through the hall of bowing nobles, the representatives of Nilfgaards best families. The girl walked stiff and uncertain. She tried to copy the comtesse.

  Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon stumbled.

  Ugly and skinny, thought the comtesse on the way to the throne. Clumsy and even not very smart. But I will make a lady out of her. I will make a Princess out of her, just like Emhyr ordered.

  The White Flame of Nilfgaard watched her from the height of his throne. Like usual, his eyes were slightly narrowed and on his lips, a hint of a snide smile was playing.

  The Princess of Cintra stumbled a second time. The Emperor leaned back and touched his cheek with a finger. He was smiling. Stella Congreve was close enough to judge that smile. She froze with fear. Something is not right, she realized, terrified. Something is not right. By the Great Sun, heads will fall…

  She retained presence of mind, bowed down, and forced the girl to do the same.

  Emhyr var Emreis did not stand up from his throne. But he slightly nodded his head. The guests held their breath.

  ‘Princess,’ said the Emperor. The girl cringed. Emhyr did not look at her, but he fixedly observed the nobility assembled in the hall.

  ‘Princess,’ he repeated his salutation. ‘I am happy to be able to greet you in my home and my land. I assure you, with my imperial word, that the day is near, when all your titles, that rightly belong to you, and all lands, that you are entitled to inherit, will be returned to you. The usurpers, who seized your lands, have declared me war. They attacked the Imperium, under the excuse of guarding the rights of your lineage. Let the world know, that you came to me, not them, with a plea of help. Let the world know, that here, in my lands, you are greeted with acceptance and honor, belonging to your status, while you were a mere exile in the lands of my enemies. Let the world know, that in my lands, you are safe, while my enemies not only denied you your crown, but even sought your life.’

  The Emperors look stopped at the ambassadors of Esterad Thyssen, king of Kovir and on the ambassador of Nedamir, ruler of the Hengfors League.

  ‘Let the world know, including the kings, that hesitated on which side is law and justice. I declare, in front of the world, that assistance will be provided, yours and my enemies will be defeated. In Cintra, in Sodden and Brugge, in Attra, on the islands of Skellig and in the delta of the Yarra, peace will rule again, and you will sit down on the throne to the delight of your epasants and all justice loving people.’

  The girl in the lightblue dress, bowed her head even lower.

  ‘Until that time comes,’ continued Emhyr, ‘you will be treated in my land with due respect and seriousness from me and my people. And, because in your kingdom, the flames of war are still burning, as proof of my respect and friendship of Nilfgaard, I grant you the title of Infanta of Rowan and Ymlac, Lady of the castle Darn Rowan, to which you will go now, to await to coming of a calmer, happier time.’

  Stella Congreve controlled herself perfectly, she did not allow even a shadow of astonishment to cross her face. He wont leave her with him, she thought, he is sending her to Darn Rowan, to the end of the world, where he wont ever come. It is obvious, that he will not court the girl and he wont even think of marriage. It looks like, he does not even want to see her. Why did he get rid of Dervla then? What is he hiding?

  She recovered, quickly grabbed the infants arm. The audience ended. As they were leaving the room, the guests were bowed, but the Emperor did not watch them anymore.

  Once they left, Emhyr var Emreis threw his leg over the armrest of the throne.

  ‘Caellach,’ he said. ‘To me.’

  The Seneschal stopped in the distance, that the ceremonial allowed and bowed down.

  ‘Closer,’ ordered Emhyr. ‘Come closer, Caellach. I will speak silently. What I say now, is only for your ears.’

  ‘Your majesty…’

  ‘What is still planned for today?’

  ‘The takeover of delegating documents and the granting of the formal exequatur to the ambassador of king Nedamir of Kovir,’ said the Seneschal quickly. ‘The naming of governors, prefects and paladins. The confirmation or earldom and the relevent time allowance to…’

  ‘We will give the exequatur to the ambassador and I will accept him on a private audience. The other things, tommorow.’

  ‘As you order, your Majesty.’

  ‘Tell vicecount Eiddon and Skellen, that immediatelly after the audience, I await them in the library. For a confidential meeting. You will also be there. And you wil bring your famous mage, that farseer.. What is his name?’

  ‘Xarthisius, Majesty. He lives in the tower near the city…’

  ‘Im not interested in where he lives. Bring him to my rooms. Silently, secretly.’

  ‘Your Majesty… is it smart to have that astrologer…’

  ‘I gave an order Caellach.’

  ‘Yes, your Majesty.’

  Before even three hours passed, all who were summoned assembled in the imperial library. The invitation did not suprise Vattier de Rideaux, vicecount of Eiddon. Vattier was the leader of military intelligence and Emhyr called him quite often – after all, Nilfgaard was at war. The invitation did not surprise Stefan Skellen, called Kalous, either. The Emperor granted him the function of coroner – the expert on special and strange missions. Because of that, Kalous was never surprised by anything.

  The third guest, however was increadibly surprised and also terrified of the invitation. Even more so, because the Emperor turned to him first:

  ‘Master Xarthisius…’

  ‘Your Imperial Majesty…’

  ‘I have to discover the location of a certain person. A person, that disappeared or is hiding. Perhaps that person is imprisoned. All mages, to whom I gave this task, failed. You will take care of it.’

  ‘How far is this… How far may this person be?’

  ‘If I knew that, I would not need you.’

  ‘I beg for pardon, Imperial Majesty…’ choked the astrologer. ‘The problem is, that great distances make astromancy
very difficult and virtually excludes… Ehm, ehm… And if that person is under magical protection… I can try, but…’

  ‘To the point, master.’

  ‘I need time… Preparations… If the conjuction of the stars will be favorable… Ehm, ehm… Your Imperial Majesty demands a uneasy task. I need time…’

  Just a moment more, and Emhyr will have him impaled on a tree, thought Kalous. If that sorcerer wont stop bumbling…

  ‘Master Xarthisius,’ said the Emperor unexpectedly calmly, and kindly. ‘You will get everything you need. Including time. Within reasonable limits of course.’

  ‘I will do what is in my powers,’ assured the astrologer. ‘but I will only be able to pinpoint a approximate localization.. That means an area or radius….’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Asromancy…’ choked Xarthisius. Astromancy allows on great distances only a approximate area… With a great tolerance… Very great. I dont know if I will be able…’

  ‘You will be able, master,’ said the Emperor and his dark eyes flashed ominously. ‘Your abilities have my full confidence. And about the tolerance: the smaller yours, the bigger mine will be.’

  Xarthisius cringed.

  ‘I will need the exact date of birth of that person,’ he said. ‘If possible also the hour. Something that belongs to that person would also help immensely.’

  ‘Hair,’ said Emhyr silently. ‘Can it be hair?’

  ‘Ach!’ rejoiced the astrologer. ‘Hair! That will significantly help… If only I had urine or excrements…’

  He looked into Emhyrs eyes and shut his mouth and fell on his knees.

  ‘I humbly ask your Imperial Majesty for forgiveness…’ he choked. ‘Please… Of course hair will be enough, Enough… Where will I find them?’

  ‘They will be delivered to you today, with the date and hour of birth. Master, I dont intend to distract you more. Return to your tower and begin observing the constelations.’

  ‘May the Great Sun watch over Your Imperial…’

  ‘Good, good. You are dismissed.’

  Now it is our turn, thought Kalous. What awaits us?

  ‘If any of you,’ said the Emperor slowly ‘tells even a word of what will be said here, will be parted in four. Vattier!’