Andrzej Sapkowski - [Witcher 05]

by The Tower of the Swallow (fan translation) (epub)

  ‘It hurts,’ Vilgefortz fixed both his living eye the dead crystal eye on her. ‘Certainly, it hurts. Locations Yennefer. Do not block yourself. Do not play the heroine. You know that you cannot stand it. The result of the resistance can be distressing, it can lead to a cerebral haemorrhage, you could get a double-sided paralysis, or enter a vegetable state for the rest of your life. Locations!’

  She clenched her jaw until her teeth began to crack.

  ‘Well, Yennefer’ the magician said gently. ‘At least out of curiosity! You must be curious about how your student is coping. Perhaps she faces a threat? Maybe she is in trouble? You know how many people want Ciri's death. Locations. If I know where the girl is, I'll get it there. She will be safe… no one will find her here. No one.’

  His voice was velvety and warm.

  ‘Locations Yennefer. Locations. I beg you. I give you my word: I will only take from Ciri what I need. And then I'll give you both your freedom. I swear it.’

  Yennefer gritted her teeth even more. A trail of blood flowed over her chin.

  Vilgefortz abruptly stood up and waved his hand. ‘Rience!’

  Yennefer felt a device being attached to her hands and fingers.

  ‘Sometimes,’ said Vilgefortz bent over her, ‘there are stubborn situations in which magic, potions, and narcotics simply cannot substitute, good old, classic pain. Do not make me do so. Locations.’

  ‘Go to hell, Vilgefortz!’

  ‘Pull the screws, Rience. Slowly.’

  * * *

  Vilgefortz looked at the unconscious body being dragged across the floor towards the stairs that led into the dungeon. Then he looked up at Rience and Schirru.

  ‘There is always a risk,’ he said, ‘that one of you falls into the hands of my enemies and is interrogated. I would like to believe that you would be as strong minded as her under the screws. Yes, I would like to believe that. But I do not.’

  Rience and Schirru remained silent. Vilgefortz turned again to the megascope, where an image appeared on the screen, produced by the giant crystal.

  ‘That's all she located,’ he said, pointing at the screen. ‘I wanted Cirilla and she has given me the witcher. She did not have the empathic matrix of the girl, but when she became weak she gave me Geralt's. I would not have believed she had such deep feelings for him… Well, I am satisfied with what we have initially learned. The witcher, Cahir aep Ceallach, the poet Dandelion, and a woman? Hmmm… Who will take this job? The final solution to the witcher question?’

  * * *

  It was assigned to Schirru, Rience recalled as he shifted himself in the stirrups to gain a moments relief from his aching, saddle-sore buttocks. Schirru volunteered to kill the witcher. He knew the area where Yennefer had detected Geralt and his company – he had friends or relatives there. I, however, Vilgefortz sent to the negotiation with Vattier de Rideaux, and then to track down Skellen and Bonhart…

  And I was a fool then, happy because I was sure I had fallen to the far easier and more enjoyable task. And one that I could finish quickly, easily, and with pleasure…

  * * *

  ‘If the farmers did not lie’ – Stefan Skellen stood in his stirrups – ‘then the lake is behind that hill there, in a valley.’

  ‘That's where the tracks lead’, confirmed Boreas Mun.

  ‘Why are we still here?’ Rience rubbed his cold, rigid ear. ‘Spur the horses on, and let’s go!’

  ‘Not so fast,’ Bonhart held him back. ‘We scout ahead. Including the valley. We do not know on which side of the lake she's riding on. If we take the wrong side, it can suddenly turn out that the lake separates us from her.’

  ‘Too true.’ Boreas agreed with him.

  ‘The lake is frozen over.’

  ‘The ice may be too weak for horses. Bonhart is right, we have to divide our forces.’

  Skellen quickly gave the commands. The first group, a total of seven horses, led by Bonhart, Rience, and Ola Harsheim, galloped along the eastern shore and soon disappeared into the black forest.

  ‘Good,’ said the Owl. ‘Let’s go, Silifant.’

  He immediately noticed that something was wrong.

  He turned his horse, drove it forward with a whip, and rode up to Joanna Selborne. Kenna’s mount stepped back, but her face was like stone.

  ‘It's useless, Lord Coroner,’ she said hoarsely. ‘We tried to ride with you. We are turning around. We have had enough.’

  ‘We?’ cried Dacre Silifant. ‘Who is ‘we’? What is this, a mutiny?’

  Skellen leaned over the saddle and spat on the frozen ground. Behind Kenna were Andres Vierny and Til Echrade, the bright-haired elf.

  ‘Lady Selborne,’ the Owl snapped. ‘It's not the point that you are ruining a promising career and ignoring the opportunity of a lifetime. The point is that you will be handed over to the hangman. Along with these fools who have listened to you.’

  ‘A man destined to hang can never drown,’ Kenna replied philosophically. ‘But you should not threaten us with the hangman, Lord Coroner. Because you do not know who is closer to the scaffold, you or us.’

  ‘You think so?’ The Owl’s eyes flashed. ‘This is the cunning conclusion you came to by overhearing someone’s smart thoughts? I’d thought you were wiser. But you're just a foolish woman. With me, you always win. Against me, you lose forever! Just remember that. And if you think I’m done for, realize I will still have an opportunity to send you to the scaffold. Do you all hear me? I'll have them tear the flesh from your bones with red-hot hooks!’

  ‘One dies only once, Lord Coroner,’ said Til Echrade gently. ‘You've chosen your path, we are choosing ours. Either way is risky and uncertain. And you do not know what fate has determined for either.’

  ‘You will not force us’ – Kenna held her head proudly – ‘to chase the girl like dogs, Lord Skellen. And we will not end up killed like dogs, as Neratin Ceka was. Oh, enough talk. We are turning around! Boreas! Come with us.’

  ‘No.’ Boreas shook his head and pulled his fur cap over his forehead. ‘Farewell, I wish you no harm. But I'll stay. I serve. I have sworn.’

  ‘Who?’ Kenna frowned. ‘The Emperor or the Owl? Or the magician who speaks out of the box?’

  ‘I am a soldier. I serve.’

  ‘Wait,’ cried Duffi Kriel, who rode out behind Dacre Silifant’s back. ‘I'm coming with you. I have also had enough of this! Last night I dreamed of my own death. I do not want to die for this lousy and suspicious cause!’

  ‘Traitors,’ yelled Dacre, red as a radish. It looked as if he might start spraying blood from his face. ‘Treacherous, miserable dogs!’

  ‘Quiet.’ The Owl was still glaring at Kenna. His eyes were as repulsive as those of the bird for which he was nicknamed. ‘They have chosen their path, you heard them. There is nothing to do but shout and waste spit. But we'll meet one of these days. I promise you.’

  ‘Maybe even on the same scaffold,’ Kenna said without irony. ‘Because you, Skellen, will not be executed with the noble-born princes, but with us – the mob. But you are right, there's no use wasting spit. We ride. Good luck, Boreas. Take care, Mr. Silifant.’

  Dacre spat over his horse's head.

  * * *

  ‘And that is everything I have to say’ – Joanna Selborne raised her head proudly and stroked a dark lock of hair from her forehead – ‘I have nothing to add, High Tribunal.’

  The chairman of the tribunal looked down on her from above. With his almost-gray eyes. His expression was inscrutable.

  Oh, what the heck, thought Kenna, I'll try. We only die once, all or nothing. I'm not going to rot in the citadel, waiting for death. The Owl spoke to the wind, which could take revenge even from the beyond the grave…

  What the heck! Maybe they won’t notice it. All or nothing!

  She put her hand to her nose, as if to wipe something away. She looked into the chairman of the tribunal's almost-gray eyes.

  ‘Guard!’ Said the chairman of the tribunal. ‘Pleas
e return to the witness Selborne to…’

  He paused, then coughed. Suddenly sweat stood out on his forehead.

  ‘…to the law office,’ he concluded and violently pulled air through his nose. ‘Have the relevant documents issued. And release her. The witness Selborne is no longer required by the court.’

  Kenna secretly wiped away a drop of blood that ran from her nose. She smiled and thanked her magic with a slight bow.

  * * *

  ‘They deserted?’ Bonhart repeated incredulously. ‘They just deserted? Simply rode away? Skellen? You allowed this?’

  ‘If they blow the whistle on us…’ began Rience, but the Owl stopped him immediately. ‘They will not, because they love their own heads! After Kriel joined them, I had only Dacre and Mun, and they were four…’

  ‘Four,’ said Bonhart maliciously ‘is not so much. After we catch up with the girl, I’ll ride for them. And the ravens will feed on them. In the name of certain principles.’

  ‘First of all, we must catch the girl,’ the Owl interrupted and drove his gray horse forward with the whip. ‘Boreas! Watch the road!’

  The bell shaped valley was filled with a dense fog, but they knew there would be a lake at the bottom, because this was Mil Trachta, and in the bottom of every valley here was a lake. However, they also knew because the black mare's hoof tracks had not been their only way to catch the girl – Vilgefortz had told them to seek this lake. He had accurately described it to them. And the name it was called.

  Tarn Mira.

  The lake was narrow, no wider than an arrow shot. It formed a slightly curved crescent between high, steep slopes, on which grew a forest of black spruce, beautifully dusted with white snow. It was silent on the slopes, not a sound could be heard. Even the crows were silent, whose ominous croaking had accompanied them for over a dozen days on the road.

  ‘This is the south end,’ stated Bonhart. ‘If the magician has not bungled and confused the thing, the magical tower should be located at the north end. Watch out for her tracks, Boreas! If we lose the trail, the lake could separate us from her!’

  ‘The tracks are clear,’ cried Boreas Mun from below. ‘And fresh! It leads to the lake!’

  ‘Forward.’ Skellen grey horse shied in front of the steep slope, but he forced it under his control.

  ‘Down!’

  They rode down the slope, carefully holding back the snorting horses. They forced their way through the black, barren, icy bushes that blocked the way to the bank.

  Bonhart's brown cautiously stepped onto the ice, crunching the glass-smooth surface broken by protruding reeds. The ice began to crackle under its hooves and long cracks suddenly ran radially apart.

  ‘Get back!’ Bonhart pulled the reins and turned the snorting beast towards the shore. ‘Dismount! The ice is too thin.’

  ‘Only on the bank, near the reeds,’ estimated Dacre Silifant after he hit the ice with his heel. ‘And even here it is one and a half inches thick. It will carry a horse, there is nothing to fear…’

  His words were drowned out by a curse and neighing. Skellen's gray horse slipped and fell on its hind legs, resulting in his legs sliding apart. Skellen swore again and hit the horse with his spurs. This time the curse was accompanied by the sharp cracking of ice bursting. The gray horse began to stamp its front feet as its rear collapsed. It struggled in the hole, breaking more ice and stirring up the bulging dark waters underneath. The Owl jumped out of the saddle and pulled on the reins, but slipped and fell down headlong. He was lucky that he did not fall under the hooves of his own horse. Two Gemmererians helped him to his feet, and Bert Brigden and Ola Harsheim drew the neighing gray horse to the shore.

  ‘Dismount, guys,’ Bonhart repeated, looking into the fog that covered the lake. ‘We do not want to take any risks. We will pursue the girl on foot. She will also have been forced to walk.’

  ‘Too true,’ confirmed Boreas Mun as he pointed to the lake. ‘You can see it.’

  On the shore, where branches hung over, the ice was smooth and semi-transparent, like dark glass bottles. They could see the brown reeds and other water plants beneath. Further out, however, the ice was covered by a thin layer of wet snow. And dark footprints stretched as far as the eye could see in the fog.

  ‘We have her!’ Rience cried eagerly, throwing his reins over a tree. ‘She's not as smart as she looks. She went onto the ice in the middle of the lake. If she would have chosen one of the banks, or the forest, it would have been much more difficult to catch her!’

  ‘In the middle of the lake…’ repeated Bonhart with a thoughtful expression. ‘The centre of the lake is the shortest and easiest path to this magical tower, so Vilgefortz told us. She knows it. Mun? How much advantage does she have?’

  Boreas Mun, who was already on the lake, knelt down by a boot print, bent down low, and looked.

  ‘Half an hour,’ he estimated. ‘No more. It's getting warmer, but the track has not blurred, you can see every nail in the sole.’

  ‘The lake,’ murmured Bonhart, who tried in vain to penetrate the fog with his stare, ‘extends more than five miles to the north. That's what Vilgefortz said. If the girl has a half-hour head start, she is about a mile ahead of us.’

  ‘On smooth ice?’ Mun shook his head. ‘No sir. Half a mile at most.’

  ‘All the better! March!’

  ‘March,’ repeated the Owl. ‘Watch the ice and march forward as quickly as possible!’

  They breathed heavily. The proximity of the victim excited them and filled them with enthusiasm like a narcotic.

  ‘Do not split up!’

  ‘Just do not lose the track…’

  ‘And don't get lost in this damn fog… As white as milk… you can't see more than twenty paces…’

  ‘Toward the pines,’ growled Rience. ‘Faster, faster! As long as there is snow on the ice we can follow her footsteps…’

  ‘The tracks are fresh,’ Boreas Mun began to murmur suddenly. ‘Very fresh… You can see every nail impression… She is directly in front of us… Directly in front of us! Why can we not see her?’

  ‘And why can we not hear her?’’ Wondered Ola Harsheim. ‘Our footsteps resound on the ice, the snow crunches! Why can we not hear her?’

  ‘Because you are prattling’ Rience violently cut him off. ‘Go on, march!’

  Boreas Mun took off his cap and wiped his sweaty brow. ‘She's there in the fog,’’ he said quietly.

  ‘Somewhere in the fog… And we cannot see. We cannot see where she will hit… like before… in Dun Dare… on the night of Saovine…’ With a trembling hand he drew his sword from its sheath.

  The Owl jumped toward him, grabbed him by the shoulders, shook him vigorously. ‘Stop causing a panic, old fool,’ he hissed.

  It was already too late. The horror had infected the others. They also pulled their swords and stood instinctively so that they had a comrade at their backs.

  ‘She is no ghost!’ Rience growled loudly. ‘She's not even a magician! And we have ten men here! It was four at Dun Dare, and they were all drunk!’

  ‘Fan out’ Bonhart said suddenly, ‘form a line to the left and right. And act as a chain! But so that you do not lose sight of each other.’

  ‘You too?’ Scoffed Rience. ‘You have also caught the fear Bonhart? I thought you were for less superstitious.’

  The bounty hunter gave him a look that was colder than ice. ‘Fan out the line,’ he repeated, ignoring the magician. ‘Keep this distance. I'm turning around, to pick up the horses.’

  ‘What?’

  Bonhart once again honoured Rience with no response. Rience cursed, but the Owl laid his hand on his shoulder. ‘Leave him,’ he hissed. ‘Let him go. But let's not waste any time! Form a chain! Bert and Stigward, to the left! Ola, to the right…’

  ‘What for, Skellen?’

  ‘If we all travel in a cluster,’ Boreas Mun murmured, ‘we could break through the ice. Moreover, if we go as a chain, there is less danger that the girl will e
scape to the side somewhere.’

  ‘Side?’ Rience said dismissively. ‘How so? The tracks are clearly visible in front of us. The girl travels straight as an arrow, and if she did try to hit a hook, the track would betray her!’

  ‘Enough talk,’ the Owl cut off the discussion then turned to look back into the fog where Bonhart had disappeared. ‘Forward!’ They went.

  * * *

  ‘It is getting warmer…’ gasped Boreas Mun. ‘The ice is melting from above. It forms a layer of water…’

  ‘The fog is thick…’

  ‘But the tracks are still visible,’ noted Dacre Silifant. ‘Besides, I think the girl is moving slower. She is losing energy.’

  ‘So are we.’ Rience tore his cap from his head and fanned the air.

  ‘Be still.’ Silifant stopped suddenly. ‘Did you hear that? What was that?’

  ‘I heard nothing.’

  ‘I did… a kind of crunching… a crunch on the ice… but not from there.’ Boreas Mun was in the fog where the tracks disappeared. ‘Somehow, from left, from the side…’

  ‘I also heard,’ confirmed the Owl and looked around uneasily. ‘But now it's quiet. Damn, I do not like this. I do not like it!’

  ‘The tracks!’ Rience repeated with bored emphasis. ‘We can still see her tracks! Have you no eyes? She goes straight. Straight! If she turned aside, even half a step, we would see it in the tracks! March, quickly, we almost have her! I guarantee we will see the same…’

  He broke off. Boreas Mun gave a moan that vibrated in his lungs. The Owl cursed.

  Ten paces in front of them, on the limit of visibility of the milk soup of fog they saw the tracks. They disappeared.

  ‘Hell and plague!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Did she fly away, or what?’

  ‘No.’ Boreas Mun shook his head. ‘She's didn't fly away. Worse.’

  Rience swore vulgarly and pointed at the grooves cut in the ice.

  ‘Skates,’ he growled and clenched his fists involuntarily. ‘She had her skates and has put them on… Now she will fly like the wind over the ice… We will not catch her! Where the hell is Bonhart? Without horses we will not catch her!’