Blood of Elves

by Andrzej Sapkowski

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “She’s not your rival, Yennefer.”

  For a moment they measured each other with their eyes, the enchantress and the priestess, and Ciri felt the air quiver, a strange, terrible force between them growing in strength. This lasted no more than a fraction of a second after which the force disappeared and Yennefer burst out laughing, lightheartedly and sweetly.

  “I forgot,” she said. “Always on his side, aren’t you, Nenneke? Always worrying about him. Like the mother he never had.”

  “And you’re always against him,” smiled the priestess. “Bestowing him with strong feelings, as usual. And defending yourself as hard as you can not to call the feelings by their rightful name.”

  Once again, Ciri felt fury rise up somewhere in the pit of her stomach, and her temples throbbed with spite and rebellion. She remembered how many times and under what circumstances she had heard that name. Yennefer. A name which caused unease, a name which was the symbol of some sinister secret. She guessed what that secret was.

  They’re talking quite openly in front of me, without any restraint, she thought, feeling her hands start to shake with anger once more. They’re not bothered about me at all. Ignoring me completely. As if I were a child. They’re talking about Geralt in front of me, in my presence, but they can’t because I… I am…

  Who?

  “You, on the other hand, Nenneke,” retorted the magician, “are amusing yourself, as usual, analysing other people’s emotions, and on top of that interpreting them to suit yourself!”

  “And putting my nose into other people’s business?”

  “I didn’t want to say that.” Yennefer tossed her black locks, which gleamed and writhed like snakes. “Thank you for doing so for me. And now let us change the subject, please, because the one we were discussing is exceptionally silly – disgraceful in front of our young pupil. And as for being understanding, as you ask… I will be. But kind-hearted – with that, there might be a problem because, after all, it is widely thought I don’t possess any such organ. But we’ll manage somehow. Isn’t that right, Surprise?”

  She smiled at Ciri and, despite herself, despite her anger and annoyance, Ciri had to respond with a smile. Because the enchantress’s smile was unexpectedly pleasant, friendly and sincere. And very, very beautiful.

  She listened to Yennefer’s speech with her back ostentatiously turned, pretending to bestow her full attention on the bumble bee buzzing in the flower of one of the hollyhocks growing by the temple wall.

  “No one asked me about it,” she mumbled.

  “What didn’t anybody ask you about?”

  Ciri turned in a half-pirouette and furiously whacked the hollyhock with her fist. The bumble bee flew away, buzzing angrily and ominously.

  “No one asked me whether I wanted you to teach me!”

  Yennefer rested her fists on her hips; her eyes flashed.

  “What a coincidence,” she hissed. “Imagine that – no one asked me whether I wanted to teach you either. Besides, wanting has got nothing to do with it. I don’t apprentice just anybody and you, despite appearances, might still turn out to be a nobody. I was asked to check how things stand with you. To examine what is inside you and how that could endanger you. And I, though not unreluctantly, agreed.”

  “But I haven’t agreed yet!”

  The magician raised her arm and moved her hand. Ciri experienced a throbbing in her temples and a buzzing in her ears, as if she were swallowing but much louder. She felt drowsy, and an overpowering weakness, tiredness stiffened her neck and softened her knees.

  Yennefer lowered her hand and the sensation instantly passed.

  “Listen to me carefully, Surprise,” she said. “I can easily cast a spell on you, hypnotise you, or put you in a trance. I can paralyse you, force you to drink an elixir, strip you naked, lay you out on the table and examine you for hours, taking breaks for meals while you lie there, looking at the ceiling, unable to move even your eyeballs. That is what I would do with just any snotty kid. I do not want to do that to you because one can see, at first glance, that you are an intelligent and proud girl, that you have character. I don’t want to put you or myself to shame. Not in front of Geralt. Because he is the one who asked me to take care of your abilities. To help you deal with them.”

  “He asked you? Why? He never said anything to me! He never asked me—”

  “You keep going back to that,” cut in the magician. “No one asked for your opinion, no one took the trouble to check what you want or don’t want. Could you have given cause for someone to consider you a contrary, stubborn, snotty kid, whom it is not worth asking questions like that? But I’m going to take the risk and am going to ask something no one has ever asked you. Will you allow yourself to be examined?”

  “And what will it involve? What are these tests? And why…”

  “I have already explained. If you haven’t understood, that’s too bad. I have no intention of polishing your perception or working on your intelligence. I can examine a sensible girl just as well as a stupid one.”

  “I’m not stupid! And I understood everything!”

  “All the better.”

  “But I’m not cut out to be a magician! I haven’t got any abilities! I’m never going to be a magician nor want to be one! I’m destined for Geralt… I’m destined to be a witcher! I’ve only come here for a short period! I’m going back to Kaer Morhen soon…”

  “You are persistently staring at my neckline,” said Yennefer icily, narrowing her violet eyes a little. “Do you see anything unusual there or is it just plain jealousy?”

  “That star…” muttered Ciri. “What’s it made of? Those stones move and shine so strangely…”

  “They pulsate,” smiled the magician. “They are active diamonds, sunken in obsidian. Do you want to see them close up? Touch them?”

  “Yes… No!” Ciri backed away and angrily tossed her head, trying to dispel the faint scent of lilac and gooseberries emanating from Yennefer. “I don’t. Why should I? I’m not interested! Not a bit! I’m a witcher! I haven’t got any magical abilities! I’m not cut out to be a magician, surely that’s clear because I’m… And anyway…”

  The magician sat on the stone bench under the wall and concentrated on examining her fingernails.

  “…and anyway,” concluded Ciri, “I’ve got to think about it.”

  “Come here. Sit next to me.”

  She obeyed.

  “I’ve got to have time to think about it,” she said hesitantly.

  “Quite right.” Yennefer nodded, still gazing at her nails. “It is a serious matter. It needs to be thought over.”

  Both said nothing for a while. The novices strolling through the park glanced at them with curiosity, whispered, giggled.

  “Well?”

  “Well what?”

  “Have you thought about it?”

  Ciri leaped to her feet, snorted and stamped.

  “I… I…” she panted, unable to catch her breath from anger. “Are you making fun of me? I need time! I need to think about it! For longer! For a whole day… And night!”

  Yennefer looked her in the eyes and Ciri shrivelled under the gaze.

  “The saying goes,” said the magician slowly, “that the night brings solutions. But in your case, Surprise, the only thing night can bring is yet another nightmare. You will wake up again, screaming and in pain, drenched in sweat. You will be frightened again, frightened of what you saw, frightened of what you won’t be able to remember. And there will be no more sleep that night. There will be fear. Until dawn.”

  The girl shuddered, lowered her head.

  “Surprise.” Yennefer’s voice changed imperceptibly. “Trust me.”

  The enchantress’s shoulder was warm. The black velvet of her dress asked to be touched. The scent of lilac and gooseberries intoxicated delightfully. Her embrace calmed and soothed, relaxed, tempered excitement, stilled anger and rebellion.

  “You
’ll submit to the tests, Surprise.”

  “I will,” she answered, understanding that she did not really have to reply. Because it was not a question.

  “I don’t understand anything any more,” said Ciri. “First you say I’ve got abilities because I’ve got those dreams. But you want to do tests and check… So how is it? Do I have abilities or don’t I?”

  “That question will be answered by the tests.”

  “Tests, tests.” She pulled a face. “I haven’t got any abilities, I tell you. I’d know if I had them, wouldn’t I? Well, but… If, by some sheer chance, I had abilities, what then?”

  “There are two possibilities,” the magician informed her with indifference as she opened the window. “Your abilities will either have to be extinguished or you will have to learn how to control them. If you are gifted and want to, I can try to instil in you some elementary knowledge of magic.”

  “What does ‘elementary’ mean?”

  “Basic.”

  They were alone in the large chamber next to the library in an unoccupied side wing of the building, which Nenneke had allocated to the lady magician. Ciri knew that this chamber was used by guests. She knew that Geralt, whenever he visited the Temple, stayed right here.

  “Are you going to want to teach me?” She sat on the bed and skimmed her hand over the damask eiderdown. “Are you going to want to take me away from here? I’m never going to leave with you!”

  “So I’ll leave alone,” said Yennefer coldly, untying the straps of her saddle-bags. “And I assure you, I’m not going to miss you. I did tell you that I’ll educate you only if you decide you want to. And I can do so here, on the spot.”

  “How long are you going to edu— Teach me for?”

  “As long as you want.” The magician leaned over, opened the chest of drawers, pulled out an old leather bag, a belt, two boots trimmed with fur and a clay demi-john in a wicker basket. Ciri heard her curse under her breath while smiling, and saw her hide the finds back in the drawers. She guessed whose they were. Who had left them there.

  “What does that mean, as long as I want?” she asked. “If I get bored or don’t like the work—”

  “We’ll put an end to it. It’s enough that you tell me. Or show me.”

  “Show you? How?”

  “Should we decide on educating you, I will demand absolute obedience. I repeat: absolute. If, on the other hand, you get tired of it, it will suffice for you to disobey. Then the lessons will instantly cease. Is that clear?”

  Ciri nodded and cast a fleeting glance of her green eyes at the magician.

  “Secondly,” continued Yennefer, unpacking her saddle-bags, “I will demand absolute sincerity. You will not be allowed to hide anything from me. Anything. So if you feel you have had enough, it will suffice for you to lie, pretend, feign or close in on yourself. If I ask you something and you do not answer sincerely, that will also indicate an instant end to our lessons. Have you understood?”

  “Yes,” muttered Ciri. “And that… sincerity… Does that work both ways? Will I be able to… ask you questions?”

  Yennefer looked at her and her lips twisted strangely.

  “Of course,” she answered after a while. “That goes without saying. That will be the basis of the learning and protection I aim to give you. Sincerity works both ways. You are to ask me questions. At any time. And I will answer. Sincerely.”

  “Any question?”

  “Any question.”

  “As of now?”

  “Yes. As of now.”

  “What is there between you and Geralt, Lady Yennefer?”

  Ciri almost fainted, horrified at her own impertinence, chilled by the silence which followed the question.

  The enchantress slowly approached her, placed her hands on her shoulders, looked her in the eyes from up close – and deeply.

  “Longing,” she answered gravely. “Regret. Hope. And fear. Yes, I don’t think I have omitted anything. Well, now we can get on with the tests, you little green-eyed viper. We will see if you’re cut out for this. Although after your question I would be very surprised if it turned out you aren’t. Let’s go, my ugly one.”

  Ciri bridled.

  “Why do you call me that?”

  Yennefer smiled with the corners of her lips.

  “I promised to be sincere.”

  Ciri, annoyed, pulled herself up straight and wriggled in her hard chair which, after many hours of sitting, hurt her backside.

  “Nothing’s going to come of it!” she snarled, wiping her charcoal-smeared fingers on the table. “After all this, nothing… Nothing works out for me! I’m not cut out to be a magician! I knew that right from the start but you didn’t want to listen to me! You didn’t pay any attention!”

  Yennefer raised her eyebrows.

  “I didn’t want to listen to you, you say? That’s interesting. I usually devote my attention to every sentence uttered in my presence and note it in my memory. The one condition being that there be at least a little sense in the sentence.”

  “You’re always mocking me.” Ciri grated her teeth. “And I just wanted to tell you… Well, about these abilities. You see in Kaer Morhen, in the mountains… I couldn’t form a single witcher Sign. Not one!”

  “I know.”

  “You know?”

  “I know. But that doesn’t mean anything.”

  “How’s that? Well… But that’s not all!”

  “I’m listening in suspense.”

  “I’m not cut out for it. Can’t you understand that? I’m… I’m too young.”

  “I was younger than you when I started.”

  “But I’m sure you weren’t…”

  “What do you mean, girl? Stop stuttering! At least one full sentence, please.”

  “Because…” Ciri lowered her head and blushed. “Because Iola, Myrrha, Eurneid and Katye – when we were having dinner – laughed at me and said that witchcraft doesn’t have access to me and that I’m not going to perform any magic because… Because I’m… a virgin, that means—”

  “I know what it means, believe it or not,” interrupted the magician. “No doubt you’ll see this as another spiteful piece of mockery but I hate to tell you that you are talking a lot of rubbish. Let us get back to the test.”

  “I’m a virgin!” repeated Ciri aggressively. “Why the tests? Virgins can’t do magic!”

  “I can’t see a solution,” Yennefer leaned back in her chair. “So go out and lose your virginity if it gets in your way so much. But be quick about it if you please.”

  “Are you making fun of me?”

  “You’ve noticed?” The magician smiled faintly. “Congratulations. You’ve passed the preliminary test in perspicacity. And now for the real test. Concentrate, please. Look: there are four pine trees in this picture. Each one has a different number of branches. Draw a fifth to fit in with the other four and to fit in this space here.”

  “Pine trees are silly,” decreed Ciri, sticking out her tongue and drawing a slightly crooked tree with her charcoal. “And boring! I can’t understand what pine trees have to do with magic? What? Lady Yennefer! You promised to answer my questions!”

  “Unfortunately,” sighed the magician, picking up the sheet of paper and critically appraising the drawing, “I think I’m going to regret that promise. What do pine trees have in common with magic? Nothing. But you’ve drawn it correctly, and on time. In truth, excellent for a virgin.”

  “Are you laughing at me?”

  “No. I rarely laugh. I really need to have a good reason to laugh. Concentrate on the next page, Surprise. There are rows of stars, circles, crosses and triangles drawn on it, a different number of each shape in each row. Think and answer: how many stars should there be in the last row?”

  “Stars are silly!”

  “How many?”

  “Three!”

  Yennefer did not say anything for a long time. She stared at a detail on the carved wardrobe door known only to her. The mischievous s
mile on Ciri’s lips started slowly to disappear until finally it disappeared altogether, without a trace.

  “No doubt you were curious to learn,” said the magician very slowly, not ceasing to admire the wardrobe, “what would happen if you gave me a senseless and stupid reply. You thought perhaps that I might not notice because I am not in the least interested in your answers? You thought wrongly. You believed, perhaps, that I would simply accept that you are stupid? You were wrong. But if you are bored of being tested and wanted, for a change, to test me… Well, that has clearly worked, hasn’t it? Either way, this test is concluded. Return the paper.”

  “I’m sorry, Lady Yennefer.” The girl lowered her head. “There should, of course, be… one star there. I’m very sorry. Please don’t be angry with me.”

  “Look at me, Ciri.”

  The girl raised her eyes, astonished. Because for the first time the magician had called her by her name.

  “Ciri,” said Yennefer. “Know that, despite appearances, I get angry just as rarely as I laugh. You haven’t made me angry. But in apologising you have proved I wasn’t wrong about you. And now take the next sheet of paper. As you can see there are five houses on it. Draw the sixth…”

  “Again? I really can’t understand why—”

  “…the sixth house.” The lady magician’s voice changed dangerously and her eyes flashed with a violet glow. “Here, in this space. Don’t make me repeat myself, please.”

  After apples, pine trees, stars, fishes and houses, came the turn of labyrinths through which she had to quickly find a path, wavy lines, blots which looked like squashed cockroaches, and mosaics which made her go cross-eyed and set her head spinning. Then there was a shining ball on a piece of string at which she had to stare for a long time. Staring at it was as dull as dish-water and Ciri kept falling asleep. Yennefer, surprisingly, did not care even though a few days earlier she had scolded her grimly for napping over one of the cockroach blots.

  Poring over the tests had made her neck and back ache and day by day they grew more painful. She missed movement and fresh air and, obliged to be sincere, she immediately told Yennefer. The magician took it easily, as if she had been expecting this for a long time.