‘There is no help,’ the girl sitting next to the piles of logs with a bandaged arm spoke in a loud and metallic voice. ‘There is no help. Only blood. And a baptism of fire. The fire purifies. But also kills.’
Regis firmly grabbed the stunned Zoltan by the arm, and with a gesture ordered him to silence. Geralt, who knew about hypnotic trances, was silent and did not move.
‘He who spills blood, and he who drank blood,’ said the girl, without raising her head, ‘will pay with blood. Three days will pass and one will die in the second, and then something will die in each. After a bit both will die, little by little… And when at last they collide with iron shoes and dry her tears, then what is left will die. Die, even that which never dies.’
‘Speak,’ Regis said quietly and gently. ‘Tell us what you see.’
‘Mist. A tower in the mist. This is the Tower of Swallows… On a lake, which is covered in ice.’
‘What else do you see?’
‘Mist.’
‘What do you feel?’
‘Pain…’
Regis did not have time to ask the next question. The girl shook her head and screamed wildly. When she raised her eyes there was indeed nothing in them but mist.
* * *
Zoltan, Geralt remembered, still running his fingers over the blade covered in runes, after this event acquired a new respect for Regis, he abandoned the familiar tone with which he used to address the surgeon. Under the request of Regis, they did not say a word about the strange event to the rest. The Witcher was not greatly affected by the event. He had seen similar trances and sometimes it was said that the talk of the hypnotized was not prophetic, but a simple repetition of one’s thoughts and subconscious suggestions of the hypnotist. Admittedly, in this case it was not hypnosis, but the vampire’s spell, and Geralt wondered what the girl would have drawn out of Regis’s mind had the trance lasted longer.
* * *
For half a day they walked along with the dwarves and their protégés. Zoltan Chivay then stopped walking and took the Witcher aside.
‘We must separate,’ he said. ‘We have already made our decision, Geralt. To the north is Mahakam, the valley leads directly to the mountains. Enough adventure. We are returning to our own. Beneath Mount Carbon.’
‘I understand.’
‘I’m glad that you understand. I wish you luck, you and your company. A strange company, I dare to observe.’
‘They want to help me,’ the Witcher said quietly. ‘It is something new for me. So I have decided not to investigate their motives.’
‘Wise,’ Zoltan said as he removed from his back Sihil in its sheath, wrapped in goatskin. ‘Here, take it. Before our paths separate.’
‘Zoltan…’
‘Don’t talk, just take it. We will spend the war in the mountains seeing nothing but iron. But it would be nice to at times, over a beer, to mention that a Mahakam forged Sihil is wielded in good hands and for a good cause. There is no disgrace. And when you find the ones who wronged your Ciri, give them one for Caleb Stratton. And remember Zoltan Chivay and the dwarven forges.’
‘You can be assured,’ Geralt took the sword and buckled it across his back. ‘You can be assured that I well remember. In this lousy world, Zoltan, goodness, honesty and integrity are very memorable.’
‘You’re right,’ the dwarf squinted his eyes. ‘Therefore I will not forget you or the exiles from the clearing, or when Regis pulled the horseshoe from the fire. When it comes to reciprocity in this regard…’
He paused, coughed, cleared his throat and spat.
‘Geralt, we robbed a merchant in Dillingen. A wealthy man who had gained a fortune in the market. When he loaded his wagon with gold and jewels and left the city, we struck against him. He defended his assets like a lion and called for help, so we hit him on the head with a club a few times until he was calm and quiet. Remember the chest we were carrying in the wagon that we buried alongside the river? Indeed that was the stolen wealth. A thief’s loot, on which we planned to build our futures.’
‘Why are you telling me this Zoltan?’
‘Because to you, I have the feeling, appearances are not deceiving if played for too long. What you took to be good and noble proved to be vile and dishonest under a pretty normal mask. It is easy to deceive, witcher, because you do not ask for motives. But I will not deceive you. And do not look to the women and children; do not take the dwarf that stands before you to be honest and noble. Before you is a thief, a criminal and perhaps a murderer. Because I do not rule out the merchant we left in a ditch by the side of the road in Dillingen.’
They were silent for a long time, looking to the distant mountains covered in clouds to the north.
‘Goodbye, Zoltan, ‘Geralt said finally. ‘It may be that the forces of whose existence I am slowly ceasing to doubt will still allow us to meet again. I wish it is so. I would like to introduce you to Ciri, and she would wish to meet you. But even if I do not succeed, know that I will not forget you. Farewell, dwarf.’
‘Can I give you a hand? A thief and a bandit?’
‘Without hesitation. Because I am no longer as easily fooled as I used to be. While I don’t question motives, I am slowly learning the art of looking beneath the masks.’
* * *
Geralt waved Sihil across the path of a passing moth.
After parting with Zoltan and his group, the Witcher recalled, we found a group of peasants wandering in the woods. Some fled at the sight of us, but Milva stopped a few, threatening them with her bow. The peasants, as it turned out, were, until recently, Nilfgaardian prisoners. They were being used to cut down cedars for the emperor, until a few days ago, when a detachment attached the guards and released them. Now they were returning to their homes. Dandelion tried to determine who were these liberators and began a tenacious investigating,
* * *
‘The soldiers were in the White Queen’s service and fought against the Black ones! They said they are fighting behind the enemy like gorillas.’
‘Like what?’
‘Well, like I said. Like gorillas.’
‘Gorillas, damn it,’ Dandelion frowned and waved his hand. ‘Oh, people, people… I’m asking, what emblems were they were carrying?’
A peasant took a stick and scratched the shape of a rhombus into the dirt.
‘A diamond,’ said Dandelion versed in heraldry. ‘Not the Temerian lily, but the diamond. The emblem of Rivia. Interesting. For Rivia is a good two hundred miles away. Not to mention the fact that the armies of Rivia and Lyria were destroyed during the battles of Aldersburg and Dol Angra, and their country is now occupied by Nilfgaard… I do not understand!’
‘That’s normal,’ the Witcher cut him off. ‘Enough talk. It is time to go.’
* * *
‘Ha!’ cried the Poet, who had been thinking about the information the he extracted from the peasants the whole time. ‘I messed up! Not gorillas but guerrillas! Guerrillas! Behind enemy lines, you see?’
‘We realize,’ Cahir nodded. ‘In short, in this area is Nordling guerrilla units. Some of the branches probably formed from the remnant of the armies of Lyria and Rivia, broken in mid-July at Aldersberg. I heard of the battle when I was captured by the Squirrels.’
‘This is good news,’ Dandelion said, proud that he had managed to decipher the riddle of the gorillas. ‘Even if the peasants got the emblems wrong, we are not dealing with the army of Temeria. And I do not think the news has reached the Queen of Rivia about two spies that not long ago enigmatically escaped the gallows of Marshal Vissegerd. If we stumble upon these guerrillas, we will have a chance to talk to them.’
‘We can count on that,’ Geralt said. ‘But to be honest, I would prefer to avoid them altogether.’
‘But these people are your countrymen, Witcher,’ Regis said. ‘After all they call you, Geralt of Rivia.’
‘A mistake,’ he said in a cold voice. ‘I call myself that. The name gives my clients more confidence.’
> ‘I understand,’ the vampire smiled. ‘But why did you choose Rivia?’
‘I picked a stick, marked with different sounding names. This method was suggested to me by my teacher. He did not like the first few. Then I insisted on taking the name Geralt Roger Eric du Haute-Bellegarde. Vesemir considered this to be ridiculous, pretentious and stupid. It seems that he was right.’
Dandelion snorted loudly, and meaningfully, looking at both the vampire and the Nilfgaardian.
‘The many parts of my name,’ Regis said, looking slightly offended, ‘are my real name. And they are consistent with vampire tradition.’
‘Mine also,’ Cahir hastened to explain. ‘Mawr is the name of my mother and my grandfather’s name was Dyffryn. There is nothing ridiculous about it poet. And you yourself, out of curiosity, what is your name? Because Dandelion is an obvious pseudonym.’
‘I cannot reveal my true name,’ said the bard mysteriously, looking proudly down his nose. ‘It is too well known and famous.’
‘And mine,’ Milva suddenly joined in the conversation, after being grim and silent, ‘made me sick in the guts when I was named so I shortened it to: Maria, Mariquilla or Marieta. Well when on hears my name, they think they are free to slap my ass…’
* * *
It was growing dark. The cranes had flown away, their trumpeting cries faded into the distance. The breeze blowing from the hills was silent. The witcher put Sihil back into its sheath.
It was this morning. This morning. And at noon the problems began.
We could have known before, he thought. But who of us except Regis, knows these things? Yes, we all knew that Milva vomited at dawn. But sometimes we ate things that had all of our guts churning. Dandelion also vomited once or twice, and once Cahir got diarrhoea, and was terrified that he had caught dysentery. The fact that the girl now and again jumped from her saddle and ran off to the bushes, I took for a bladder infection…
How could I have been so stupid?
Regis, it seems, guessed the truth. But he remained silent. He stayed silent until he could no longer remain silent. When we stopped to camp in an abandoned shack, Milva took him into the forest, talking with him for a long time and often loudly. The vampire came out of the forest alone. Boiled some water and mixed some herbs, then suddenly called us all to the hut. He began bluntly, with his professor’s voice.
* * *
‘I appeal to all,’ said Regis. ‘We are a team, and so we assume mutual responsibility. Nothing changes the fact that among us there is one who bears the highest responsibility. Directly, so to speak.’
‘Express yourself more clearly, damn it!’ snapped Dandelion. ‘Team, responsibility…What is wrong with Milva? What is this disease?’
‘This is not a disease,’ Cahir said quietly.
‘At least not in the strict sense of the word,’ confirmed Regis. ‘The girl is pregnant.’
Cahir nodded as a sign that he had guessed. Dandelion was dumbfounded. Geralt bit his lip.
‘In which month?’
‘She refused, fairly impolitely, to give me a date, including the date of her last menstrual cycle. But I know this. This will be the tenth week.’
‘So forget your pathetic appeal to direct the responsibility,’ Geralt said grimly, ‘at any of us. If you had any doubts in this respect, this dispels them. But you had a right to speak of collective responsibility. She is now with us. Suddenly we all have to assume the role of husbands and fathers. We listen in suspense to what the doctor has to say.’
‘A good, regular diet,’ Regis began enumerating. ‘No stress. Healthy sleep. And soon she will need to stop riding a horse.’
Everyone was silent for a long time.
‘We understand,’ Dandelion said finally. ‘We have a problem, gentlemen, husbands and fathers.’
‘More than you think,’ said the vampire. ‘Or less. Everything depends on your point of view.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Well, you should,’ murmured Cahir.
‘She demanded,’ Regis said, ‘that I prepare her a strong and effective… medication. She considers this to be the remedy to her problem. She is determined.’
‘Did you give it to her?’
Regis smiled.
‘Without the agreement of the other fathers?’
‘The medicine that she is asking for,’ Cahir said quietly, ‘is not a miracle cure. I have three sisters; I know what I’m talking about. She seems to think that she will drink the decoction and the next day will continue to ride with us on our journey. This is not so. It will be at least ten days before she can even dream about sitting on a horse. Before you give her the medicine, Regis, you have to tell her. And you can only give her the medicine when we can find her a bed. A clean bed.’
‘I understand,’ Regis nodded. ‘One vote in favour. And you, Geralt?’
‘What about me?’
‘My lords,’ the vampire fixed them with his dark eyes. ‘Do not pretend you do not understand.’
‘In Nilfgaard,’ Cahir said, blushing and lowering his head, ‘such matters are determined solely by the woman. Nobody has the right to influence her decision. Regis said that Milva is determined to take the… medicine. Therefore I think of this fact as accomplished. And the consequences of this fact. But I am a foreigner and not familiar with… I should not have spoken at all. Forgive me.’
‘For what?’ the troubadour said with surprise. ‘Do you think of us as savages, Nilfgaardian? As primitive tribes, adhering to shamanic taboo? It is obvious that only a woman could make such a decision, it is their inherent right! If Milva decides to…’
‘Shut up, Dandelion,’ the Witcher growled. ‘Be so kind as to shut up.’
‘Do you believe otherwise?’ the poet raised his voice. ‘Would you forbid…’
‘Shut up, damn it, because I will not vouch for myself! Regis, I get the feeling you are conducting a poll between us, why? You’re the doctor. The measure which she asks for … Yes, measure because I don’t think the term medicine is suitable here … Only you can prepare the measure and give it to her. And you will do so when asked again. Do not refuse.’
‘The measure has already been prepared,’ Regis held up a small bottle of dark glass. ‘If she asks again, I will not refuse. If she asks again.’
‘So what is this? About our unanimity? The universal consent? What are you waiting for?’
‘You know what this is about,’ said the vampire. ‘You feel exactly as I do. But since you asked, I will answer. Yes, Geralt, that is what I need, and it is not me waiting for something.’
‘Can you speak more clearly?’
‘No, Dandelion,’ said the vampire. ‘I cannot be clearer. Especially since there is no need too. Right, Geralt?’
‘It is true,’ the Witcher dropped his forehead into his hands. ‘Yes, damn it, it’s true. But why are you looking to me? I’ve got to do this? I can’t do it. I can’t. I am not suitable for this role … Not at all, do you understand?’
‘No,’ Dandelion interjected. ‘I do not understand at all. Cahir? Do you understand?’
‘Yes’ he said slowly. ‘I think so.’
‘Aha,’ the troubadour nodded. ‘Aha. Geralt understands, Cahir think he understands. And when I ask for an explanation you first order me to shut up, and then I get told there is no need to understand. Thank you. I’ve spent twenty years in the service of poetry, long enough to know that there are things that one understands immediately, even without words, or they will never understand.’
The vampire smiled.
‘I do not know anyone,’ he said, ‘who could have put it more beautifully.’
* * *
It was completely dark. The witcher stood up.
You only die once, he thought. There is no escape. There is no more waiting. I have to do this and that’s it.
* * *
Milva was sitting alone by a small fire that was kindled in the woods, in a hole left by an uprooted tree, out of the wind and
away from the hut in which the rest of the company was spending the night. She did not move when she heard his footsteps. As if she was expecting him. She shifted to one side making room for him beside her on the tree trunk.
‘So what?’ she said dryly, without waiting for him to say anything. ‘Quite the mess, eh?’
He did not answer.
‘It’s not what you imagined when we set off, eh? When you accepted me into the company? Did you think that you would end up with such a stupid wench? I’ve heard you men talk about me saying that I’m a maiden but I may be useful. She is a healthy, strong, young woman who can pull a bow and sit in a saddle. And it appeared that I was no benefit, but a hindrance. Just a stupid girl with a swollen belly!’
‘Why did you come with me?’ he asked quietly. ‘Why did you not stay in Brokilon? If you knew …’
‘I knew,’ she interrupted quickly. ‘After all, I was among the Dryads, and in a moment they know if a girl is pregnant. They knew sooner than myself… But I did not expect my weakness to catch up with me so soon. I thought there would be an opportunity to drink a decoction or find some herb, and nobody would notice…’
‘It’s not that simple.’
‘I know, the vampire told me. I have waited too long. Now it will not go smoothly…’
‘That’s not what I meant.’
‘The plague!’ she said finally. ‘And to think I had Dandelion in reserve! I noticed that he was keeping up, but he was still weak and not accustomed to trouble, so I watched, and I expected that he would not be able to continue on the way and have to turn back. I thought that if it was really bad, I’d go back with him… And here we are – Dandelion is fine and I…’
He voice broke suddenly. Geralt hugged her. And immediately knew that this was the gesture that she had been waiting for, that she so badly needed. The roughness and hardness of the archer from Brokilon had disappeared, instantly she was a trembling, delicate, softness of a frightened little girl. But it was she who broke the long silence.
Andrzej Sapkowski - [Witcher 04] Page 33
