Andrzej Sapkowski - [Witcher 04]

by Baptism of Fire (fan translation) (epub)

  ‘Your dreams,’ she said finally, ‘it is because of your dreams, right? Almost every night you wake up screaming. What you experienced is coming back to you in your dreams. I know it.’

  Ciri did not answer.

  ‘You have never told me about yourself,’ Mistle again broke the silence. ‘About what happened to you. Neither have you told me where you came from. Or even if you have loved ones…’

  Ciri quickly moved her hand to her neck, but this time it was only a ladybug.

  ‘I had a family,’ she said dully, without looking at her companion. ‘That is, I thought I had one… Those who would find me, even here, at the end of the world if they wanted… Or if they lived. Oh what are you doing, Mistle? Do I have to tell you about myself?’

  ‘You don’t have to.’

  ‘That’s good. Because it is probably just a game to you. Like everything else between us.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Mistle turned her head, ‘why you don’t leave, if things with me are so bad.’

  ‘I don’t want to be alone.’

  ‘Is that all?’

  ‘That’s a lot.’

  Mistle bit her lip. But before she could say anything, they heard a whistle. Both of them jumped up, shook the needles from their clothes and ran to the horses.

  ‘Let the fun begin.’ Mistle said jumping into the saddle and drawing her sword. ‘For some time now you have enjoyed this more than the others, Falka. Don’t think that I haven’t noticed.’

  Ciri angrily struck the horse with her heels. They galloped down the slope of the ravine in fits and starts, listening to the wild shouts of the rest of the Rats, coming out of the woods from the other side of the road. The jaws of the trap closed.

  * * *

  The private audience was over. Vattier de Rideaux, Viscount of Eiddon, head of military intelligence for Emhyr var Emreis, left the library, bowing to the Queen of the Valley of Flowers in a way that was shorter than protocol required. The bow was at the same time, extremely cautious and measured – the imperial spy did not take his eyes off of the two ocelots who were laying at the feet of the lady of the elves. The cats blue eyes seemed sluggish and sleepy, but Vattier knew they were not pets, but vigilant guardians, ready to turn quickly into a bloody pulp anyone who dared approach the Queen at a distance that was not allowed under protocol.

  Francesca Findabair called Enid an Gleanna, Daisy of the Valley, waited until the door closed behind Vattier and stroked her cats.

  ‘Already, Ida.’ she said.

  Ida Emean aep Sivney, the elven sorceress, a free Aen Seidhe from the Blue Mountains, hidden during the audience by a spell of invisibility, appeared in the corner of the room, adjusting her mahogany hair. The ocelots responded by only slightly opening their eyes a little wider. Like all cats, they could see the invisible, their senses could not be easily fooled by magic.

  ‘The parade of spies is starting to annoy me.’ Francesca said with a sneer, moving to a more comfortable position in her ebony chair. ‘Henselt of Kaedwen recently sent me a “consul”, Dijkstra came to Dol Blathanna on a “trade mission”. And now Vattier de Rideaux head of imperial intelligence himself! Oh, and previously Stefan Skellen prowled around here, the Grand Imperial Nobody. But I did not grant him a hearing. I am the Queen and Skellen is nothing. Although he has a position, he is nobody.

  ‘Stefan Skellen,’ Ida Emean said slowly, ‘was also here to see us, where he had more luck. He spoke with Filavandrel and Vanadain.’

  ‘And just like Vattier to me, he asked about Vilgefortz, Yennefer, Rience and Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach?’

  ‘Among other things. You would be amazed, but what interested him was the original version of the prophecy of Ithlinne Aegli aep Aevenien, especially the passages that speak of Aen Hen Ichaer, The Elder Blood. He was also interested in Tor Lara, the Tower of Gulls, and the legendary portal that once connected the Tower of Gulls to Tor Zireael, the Swallow’s Tower. How typical it is for humans, Enid. To expect that we would immediately, on command, explain the mysteries and secrets that we ourselves have tried to unravel for centuries.’

  Francesca raised her hand and examined her rings.

  ‘Interesting,’ she said, ‘and Philippa knows about the strange hobbies of Vattier and Skellen? And Emhyr var Emreis, whom they both serve.’

  ‘It would be prudent to assume that she does not know.’ Ida Emean looked keenly at the Queen. ‘And to hide it at the meeting in Montecalvo of what we know, both to Philippa and the entire Lodge. It would not throw a good light on us … We want the Lodge to work. We want them to trust us, the elven mages, not suspected us of double play.’

  ‘The thing is, we are conducting a double play, Ida. And we are playing with fire. With the White Flame of Nilfgaard …’

  ‘The fire burns,’ Ida Emean looked the Queen in the eyes, ‘but it also purifies. We must go through it, Enid. This Lodge must exist, must begin to act. With all of its members. Twelve sorceresses and among them one spoken of in prophecy. Even if it is a game, let’s put our trust in it.’

  ‘And if this is provocation?’

  ‘You know better than I the people involved in this.’

  Enid an Gleanna reflected.

  ‘Sile de Tansarville,’ she said at last, ‘is a secretive recluse, she has no political connections. Triss Merigold and Keira Metz have them, but are now both in exile because king Foltest expelled all the sorceresses from Temeria. Margarita Laux-Antille is only interested in her school and nothing else. Of course, at this moment the last three are strongly influenced by Philippa and Philippa is a mystery. Sabrina Glevissig has not surrendered her political influence, which is in Kaedwen, but will not betray the Lodge. She draws power, which she gives to the Lodge.’

  ‘And this Assire var Anahid? And this second Nilfgaardian, who will be announced at Montecalvo?’

  ‘I know little about them,’ Francesca smiled slightly, ‘but as soon as I see them, I will know more. As soon as I see, in what and how they are dressed.’

  Ida Emean’s painted eyes narrowed, but she refrained from asking a question.

  ‘The jade statuette, ‘she said after a moment, ‘the still uncertain and enigmatic figurine of jade that is mentioned in the Ithlinnespeath. Perhaps it is time to let her speak. And tell us what to expect. Shall I assist you with decompression?’

  ‘No, I’ll do it myself. You know how one reacts to decompression. The less witnesses, the less painful a blow to her pride.’

  * * *

  Francesca Findabair checked again to verify that the entire courtyard was tightly isolated from the rest of the palace by the protective field that hid her from view and drowned out the sounds. She lit three black candles and set them in candlesticks fitted with concave mirror reflectors. The candlesticks were placed in certain places in a circle mosaic on the floor containing the seven signs of Vicca, the elven zodiac and symbols representing Belleteyn, Lammas and Yule. Within the zodiac circle mosaic was a second, smaller one, dotted with magical symbols surrounding a pentagram. On the three symbols of the smaller circle, Francesca placed small iron tripods and carefully and cautiously mounted three crystals. The cut crystals fitted exactly into the mold atop the tripods, so the arrangement had to be precise, but still Francesca checked everything several times. She preferred not to risk failure.

  Nearby hissed a fountain, water gushing from the marble jar held by a marble naiad in four streams falling into the pool, setting into motion the leaves of water-lilies, between which goldfish swam.

  Francesca opened the casket, took out a small, jade, soapy to the touch figurine and set it up exactly in the middle of the pentagram. She backed away, looked again at the grimoire lying on the table, took a deep breath, raised her hands and incanted a spell.

  The candles blazed brighter, sparkling light was thrown from the crystal facets. The rays focus on the figurine, which immediately changed colour from green and became gold and after a few moments, transparent. The air was charged with magi
cal energy that beat against the protective barrier. One of the candles threw sparks on the pavement; shadows danced on the floor the mosaic which began to come alive, to change shapes. Francesca did not lower her hands and maintained the casting.

  The figurine rapidly, pulsing and vibrant, changed its structure and shape, like a cloud of smoke. The light emanating from the crystals through the smoke, revealed on the fringes of light, movement and hardening matter. After another moment, in the center of the circle suddenly appeared a human figure. A black-haired woman lying limp on the floor.

  The candles went out in ribbons of smoke, the crystals went dark. Francesca lowered her hands, stretched her fingers and wiped the sweat from her forehead. The dark-haired woman curled up and started screaming.

  ‘What is your name?’ Francesca asked loudly.

  The woman stretched and howled, clutching both of her arms over her lower abdomen.

  ‘What is your name?’

  ‘Ye… Yennef… Yennefer! Aaaaaaaah…’

  The elf sighed with relief. The woman was still writhing, screaming, moaning and banging her fists on the pavement, trying not to vomit. Francesca waited patiently. With confidence. The woman who had been only moments ago been a jade figurine was suffering. It was to be expected. But her brain was not damaged.

  ‘Well, Yennefer,’ Francesca said after a while, interrupting the groans. ‘Enough is enough, right?’

  Yennefer, with evident effort, raised herself onto her hands and knees and wiped her face and eyes with her forearm, she looked around, lost. Her gaze passed over Francesca as if the elf was not even in the yard; she stopped and came to life only at the sight of the water gushing from the fountain. Yennefer crawled with great difficulty and climbed the edge of the fountain and with a slash, plunged into the pond. She choked and started to splutter and cough, eventually she pushed her way through the water-lilies, reaching the base of the marble naiad and sat down, leaning her back against the statue. The water came up to her breasts.

  ‘Francesca…’ she stammered, touching the obsidian star around her neck and looking somewhat more aware. ‘You…’

  ‘What do you remember?’

  ‘Did you compress me…? Damn, did you compress me?’

  ‘I compressed you and decompressed you. What do you remember?’

  ‘Garstang… Elves. Ciri. You. And five hundred weights that suddenly dropped on my head… Now I know what it was. Being compressed into an artifact…’

  ‘Your memory is functioning. That’s good.’

  Yennefer lowered her head and watched the goldfish swimming around her legs.

  ‘Make sure you change the pond water, Enid,’ she murmured, ‘I just urinated.’

  ‘A trifle.’ Francesca smiled. ‘Take note, however, whether you can see blood in the water. Sometimes compression destroys the kidneys.’

  ‘Just the kidneys?’ Yennefer took a cautious breath. ‘I don’t think there is a single healthy organ inside me… At least that’s how I feel. Hell, Enid, What did I do to deserve such treatment…’

  ‘Get out of the water.’

  ‘No, I am comfortable here.’

  ‘I know. Dehydration.’

  ‘Degradation. Deprivation. Why did you do this?’

  ‘Come out, Yennefer.’

  The sorceress stood up with difficulty, leaning both hands on the marble naiad. She shook off the water-lilies with a sudden jerk and stood naked under the falling water. Rinsing and having drunk, she came out of the pool and sat on the edge and began to wring her wet hair.

  ‘Where am I?’

  ‘In Dol Blathanna.’

  Yennefer wiped her nose.

  ‘Is the fight in Thanedd still going on?’

  ‘No. It has finished. A month and a half ago.’

  ‘I must have given you great harm.’ Yennefer said, ‘I must have hurt you good, Enid. But you can consider that our account has been levelled. You have been properly avenged, although this was maybe a little too sadistic. You were not content to cut my throat?’

  ‘Do not talk nonsense.’ The elf pursed her mouth. ‘I compressed you to save your life at Garstang. We will return to this later. Please, take this towel. Here is a sheet. After a bath I will give you a new dress. In the appropriate place, a tub of warm water. You’ve hurt enough of the goldfish.’

  * * *

  Francesca and Ida Emean drank wine. Yennefer drank large amounts of carrot juice.

  ‘Let me summarize,’ she said, after hearing Francesca. ‘Nilfgaard conquered Lyria, destroyed half of Aedirn and Kaedwen, and burned Vengerberg. And right now they occupy Brugge and Sodden, while Verden surrendered without a fight. Vilgefortz has disappeared without a trace. Tissaia de Vries committed suicide. You’ve become Queen of the Valley of the Flowers, The Emperor Emhyr rewarded you with the crown and sceptre in exchange for my Ciri, who he has sought for so long and now has to use as he sees fit. I was compressed and packed in a box for a month and a half as a jade statue. And you expect me to thank you for that.’

  ‘That would be nice.’ Francesca Findabair replied coldly. ‘At Thanedd there was a certain Rience who had made it a point of honour to set himself the task of giving you a slow and cruel death and Vilgefortz promised to make it possible. Rience travelled in search of you throughout Garstang. But he couldn’t find you, because you were already a jade figure hanging around my neck.’

  ‘I was a figurine for forty-seven days.’

  ‘Yes. I, for my part, when asked, could answer truthfully that Yennefer of Vengerberg was not in Dol Blathanna. Since they were asking about Yennefer of Vengerberg and not a figurine.’

  ‘What has changed, that you finally decided to decompress me?’

  ‘A lot. I’ll explain.’

  ‘Before you do, I want to know something else. Geralt was at Thanedd. The witcher. Remember I presented him to you in Aretuza. What happened to him?’

  ‘Calm down. He lives.’

  ‘I am calm. Tell me, Enid.’

  ‘Your witcher,’ said Francesca, ‘during only one hour did more than many do throughout their whole lives. In short: He broke Dijkstra’s leg, cut off the head of Artuad Terranova and brutal killed about ten Scoia’tael. Oh, and not forgetting, awakening an unhealthy desire in Keira Metz.’

  ‘Horrible,’ Yennefer exaggeratedly wrinkled her brow. ‘But Keira has since come to her senses, right? She does not hold a grudge, I hope. The fact that, once having awakened her desires was undoubtedly caused by lack of time and not wilful neglect. Reassure her about this on my behalf.’

  ‘You will have the opportunity to do so,’ said the Daisy of the Valley. ‘And soon. But back to the matters for which you are clumsily pretending indifference. Your witcher who was so enthusiastic about the defence of Ciri, acted very foolishly. He threw himself at Vilgefortz. And Vilgefortz destroyed him. That he did not kill him was probably due to a lack of time, not a lack of purpose. So what? Are you still continuing to pretend that this doesn’t concern you?’

  ‘No.’ Yennefer said with a grimace on her lips, ceasing to express derision. ‘No, Enid. It concerns me. Soon a few people will know my shock. I give you my word.’

  In the same way she had been affected by the teasing, Francesca was unmoved by the threats.

  ‘Triss Merigold, teleported the half-dead witcher to Brokilon.’ she said. ‘For all I know, he is still healing with the dryads. He seems to be doing well, but it would be best if he didn’t stick his nose out of the forest. Dijkstra’s intelligence agents are hunting him. They are hunting, you too.’

  ‘And what have I done to deserve such an honour? For I did not break anything of Dijkstra… Oh, do not say anything, let me guess myself. I disappeared from Thanedd without a trace. No one imagined that I landed in your pocket, small and compressed. Everyone is convinced that I escaped to Nilfgaard with my partner conspirators. All except the actual conspirators, of course, but these are not going to correct the error. The war continues, misinformation is a weapon whose blade mu
st always be sharp. And now, after forty-seven days, it is time to use that weapon. My house in Vengerberg has been burned, I am persecuted. There is nothing I can do, but join some Scoia’tael commandos. Or otherwise join the fight for the freedom of the elves.’

  Yennefer took a sip of carrot juice and stared in the eyes of Ida Emean aep Sivney, who was staying quiet and calm.

  ‘Well, Lady Ida? Lady Aen Seidhe of the free Blue Mountains? Is this what is written for me, my divine destiny? Why are you silent like a boulder?’

  ‘I, Lady Yennefer,’ replied the redheaded elf, ‘I am silent when I have nothing meaningful to say. It is always better than to spin unwarranted assumptions and mask anxiety with chatter. Get to the point, Enid. Explain to Lady Yennefer what is going on.’

  ‘I’m all ears.’ Yennefer touched the obsidian star on its velvet ribbon. ‘Speak, Francesca.’

  The Daisy of the Valley placed her chin on her interlaced fingers.

  ‘Today,’ she said, ‘is the second night, since the full moon. In a short while we will teleport to castle Montecalvo, home of Philippa Eilhart. We will take part in a meeting of an organisation, which should interest you. After all, you were always of the opinion that magic is of the highest value, standing above all the divisions, conflicts, political choices, personal interests, resentments and animosity. You will probably enjoy the news; we recently established a framework for such an institution, something like a secret lodge, set up solely to defend the interests of magic, having the task of ensuring that magic will occupy a place in the social hierarchy, where it belongs. I allowed myself to be able to consider two new candidates for this structure, Ida Emean aep Sivney and you.’

  ‘What an unexpected honour and promotion,’ Yennefer sneered. ‘From nonexistence, straight into the secret, elitist, magical lodge. An institution standing above personal resentments and animosity. But am I a suitable candidate? Will I find in myself the strength of character to get rid of the animosity I feel to the people who took my Ciri, or tortured a man who is not indifferent to me, and myself…’