The private audience was over. Vattier de Rideaux, Viscount of Eiddon, head of Imperator Emhyr var Emreis’s military intelligence, left the library, bowing to the Queen of the Valley of Flowers even more politely than courtly protocol demanded. At the same time his bow was very cautious, and his movements deliberate and guarded; the imperial spy’s eyes never left the two ocelots stretched out at the feet of the elven queen. The golden-eyed cats looked languorous and drowsy, but Vattier knew they weren’t cuddly mascots but vigilant guards, ever ready to reduce anyone to a bloody pulp if they tried to come closer to the queen than protocol decreed.
Francesca Findabair, also called Enid an Gleanna, the Daisy of the Valleys, waited until the door was closed behind Vattier, and stroked the ocelots.
‘Very well, Ida,’ she said.
Ida Emean aep Sivney, elven sorceress, one of the free Aen Seidhe from the Blue Mountains, during the audience shrouded by an invisibility spell, materialised in a corner of the library, and smoothed down her dress and vermilion-red hair. The ocelots only reacted with a slight widening of their eyes. Like all cats, they could see what was invisible and could not be deceived by a simple spell.
‘This parade of spies is beginning to annoy me,’ Francesca said with a sneer, finding a more comfortable position on the ebony chair. ‘Henselt of Kaedwen sent me a “consul” not long ago. Dijkstra dispatched a “trade mission” to Dol Blathanna. And now the arch-spy Vattier de Rideaux himself! Oh, and some time ago Stephan Skellen, the Grand Imperial Nobody, was creeping around too. But I didn’t give him an audience. I’m the queen and Skellen’s a nobody. He may hold a position, but he’s a nobody nonetheless.’
‘Stephan Skellen,’ Ida Emean said slowly, ‘visited us too, and was more fortunate. He spoke with Filavandrel and Vanadain.’
‘And like Vattier with me, did he enquire about Vilgefortz, Yennefer, Rience and Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach?’
‘Among other things. It may surprise you, but he was more interested in the original version of Ithlinne Aegli aep Aevenien’s prophecy, particularly the parts about Aen Hen Ichaer, the Elder Blood. He was also curious about Tor Lara, the Tower of Gulls, and the legendary portal which once connected the Tower of Gulls to Tor Zireael, the Tower of Swallows. How typical of humans, Enid. To expect that, at a single nod, we shall unravel enigmas and mysteries for them which we have been endeavouring to solve for centuries.’
Francesca raised her hand and examined the rings adorning it.
‘I wonder,’ she said, ‘whether Philippa knows about the strange preoccupation of Skellen and Vattier. And of Emhyr var Emreis, whom they both serve.’
‘It would be risky to assume she doesn’t,’ Ida Emean replied, looking keenly at the queen, ‘and to withhold what we know from Philippa and the entire lodge at the council in Montecalvo. It wouldn’t show us in a very favourable light . . . And we want the lodge to come into being. We want to be trusted – we, elven sorceresses – and not to be suspected of playing a double game.’
‘But we are playing a double game, Ida. And playing with fire: with the White Flame of Nilfgaard . . .’
‘Fire burns,’ Ida Emean said, raising her heavily made-up eyes at the queen, ‘but it also purifies. It must be passed through. Risks have to be taken, Enid. The lodge ought to exist, ought to begin functioning. At full strength. Twelve sorceresses, including the one mentioned in the prophecy. Even if it is a game, let us rely on trust.’
‘And if it’s an entrapment?’
‘You know the individuals involved better than I do.’
Enid an Gleanna thought for a while.
‘Sheala de Tancarville,’ she finally said, ‘is a secretive recluse, without any loyalties. Triss Merigold and Keira Metz were loyal but they are now both emigrants, since King Foltest drove all the mages from Temeria. Margarita Laux-Antille cares for her school and nothing besides. Of course, at this moment the last three are heavily under Philippa’s sway, and Philippa is an enigma. Sabrina Glevissig will not give up the political influence she has in Kaedwen, but will not betray the lodge either. She is too attracted by the power it can give her.’
‘And what about Assire var Anahid? And the other Nilfgaardian, whom we shall meet in Montecalvo?’
‘I know little about them.’ Francesca smiled faintly. ‘But once I see them I shall know more. As soon as I see how they are dressed.’
Ida Emean lowered her painted eyelids, but refrained from asking a question.
‘This leaves us with the jade statuette,’ she said a moment later. ‘The still dubious and enigmatic jade figurine mentioned in the Ithlinnespeath, Ithlinne’s Prophecy. I now deem it’s time to allow her to express herself. And to tell her what she may expect. Shall I help you with the decompression?’
‘No, I shall do it myself. You are familiar with reactions to unpacking. The fewer the witnesses, the less painful a blow it will be to her pride.’
Francesca Findabair checked one more time that the entire courtyard was thoroughly isolated from the rest of the palace by a protective field, which hid it from view and muffled its sounds. She lit three black candles planted in candlesticks equipped with parabolic mirrors. The candlesticks stood at points marked out by a circular mosaic pavement depicting the eight signs of Vicca, the elven zodiac, on the symbols indicating Belleteyn, Lammas and Yule. Inside the zodiac circle, the mosaic formed another, smaller circle, dotted with magic symbols and enclosing a pentagram. Francesca placed small, iron tripods on three symbols of the smaller circle, and then on each of them she carefully mounted three crystals. The cut of the crystals’ bases corresponded to the form of the tripods’ tops, which meant their placement could be nothing other than precise, but even so Francesca checked everything several times. She didn’t want to leave anything to chance.
A fountain was trickling nearby, the water gushing from a marble jug held by a marble naiad. It fell into the pool in four streams and made the water lilies, between which goldfish darted, quiver.
Francesca opened a jewellery case, removed a small, waxy jade figurine from it, and placed it precisely at the centre of the pentagram. She withdrew, glanced once again at the grimoire lying on a table, took a deep breath, raised her hands and chanted a spell.
The candles burst into bright flame, the crystals’ facets lit up and sparkled with streaks of light. Those streaks of light shot towards the figurine, which immediately changed colour from green to gold, and a moment later became transparent. The air shimmered with magical energy, which struck against the protective field. Sparks flew from one of the candles, shadows played on the floor, the mosaic came alive and the shapes in it transformed. Francesca did not lower her hands or interrupt the incantation.
The statuette grew at lightning speed, pulsating and throbbing, its structure and shape changing like a cloud of smoke crawling across the floor. The light shining from the crystals pierced the air; movement and congealing matter appeared in the streams of light. A moment later a human body suddenly manifested in the centre of the magical circles. It was the figure of a black-haired woman, lying inertly on the floor.
The candles bloomed with ribbons of smoke and the crystals went out. Francesca lowered her arms, relaxed her fingers and wiped the sweat from her forehead.
The black-haired woman on the floor curled up in a ball and began to scream.
‘What is your name?’ Francesca asked in a breathy voice.
The woman convulsed and howled, both hands clutching her belly.
‘What is your name?’
‘Ye . . . Yennef . . . Yennefeerrr!!! Aaaaaagh . . .’
The elf sighed with relief. The woman continued to squirm and howl, banging her fists against the floor and retching. Francesca waited patiently. And calmly. The woman – a moment earlier a jade figurine – was suffering, that was obvious. And normal. But her mind was undamaged.
‘Well, Yennefer,’ she said after a long pause, interrupting the groans. ‘That ought to do, oughtn’t it?’
Yennefe
r raised herself onto her hands and knees with obvious effort, wiped her nose with her wrist and looked around vacantly. Her gaze flitted over Francesca, as though the she-elf wasn’t even in the courtyard, then came to rest – and brightened – at the sight of the fountain gushing water. Having crawled up to it with immense difficulty, Yennefer hauled herself over the lip and flopped into the pool with a splash. She choked, began to splutter, cough and spit, until finally, parting the water lilies, she waded to the marble naiad and sat down, leaning back against the pedestal of the statue. The water came up to her breasts.
‘Francesca . . .’ she mumbled, touching the obsidian star hanging from her neck and looking at the she-elf with a slightly clearer gaze. ‘It’s you . . .’
‘It’s me. What do you recall?’
‘You packed me up . . . Hell’s teeth, you packed me up, didn’t you!’
‘I packed you up and then unpacked you. What do you recall?’
‘Garstang . . . Elves. Ciri. You. And the fifty tons suddenly landing on my head . . . Now I know what it was. Artefact compression . . .’
‘Your memory’s working. Good.’
Yennefer lowered her head and looked between her thighs, over which goldfish were darting.
‘The water in the pool will need changing, Enid,’ she mumbled. ‘I just peed in it.’
‘No matter.’ Francesca smiled. ‘But just see if there’s any blood in the water. Compression has been known to damage the kidneys.’
‘Only the kidneys?’ Yennefer said, taking a cautious breath. ‘I don’t think there’s a single undamaged organ in my body . . . At least that’s how I feel. Hell’s teeth, Enid, I really don’t know what I did to deserve this . . .’
‘Get out of the pool.’
‘No. I like it here.’
‘I know. It’s called dehydration.’
‘Degradation. Depredation! Why did you do it to me?’
‘Get out, Yennefer.’
The sorceress stood up with difficulty, holding onto the marble naiad with both hands. She shook off the water lilies, with a sharp tug tore away her dripping dress and stood naked before the fountain, under the gushing streams. After rinsing herself down and drinking deeply, she stepped out of the pool, sat down on the edge, wrung out her hair and looked around.
‘Where am I?’
‘In Dol Blathanna.’
Yennefer wiped her nose.
‘Do the hostilities on Thanedd continue?’
‘No. They ended a month and a half ago.’
‘I must have wronged you greatly,’ Yennefer said a moment later. ‘I must really have got under your skin, Enid. But you can consider us even. You’ve exacted a full revenge, if a little too sadistic. Couldn’t you have just cut my throat?’
‘Don’t talk nonsense,’ the elf said, making a face. ‘I packed you up and got you out of Garstang to save your life. We’ll come back to that, but a little later. Here, have this towel. And this sheet. You’ll get a new dress after you’ve bathed – in a suitable place, in a tub full of warm water. You’ve done enough damage to my goldfish.’
Ida Emean and Francesca were drinking wine. Yennefer was drinking sugar water and carrot juice. In huge quantities.
‘To sum up,’ she said, after hearing Francesca’s account. ‘Nilfgaard has defeated Lyria, in an alliance with Kaedwen has dismantled Aedirn, burnt down Vengerberg, subjugated Verden, and is crushing Brugge and Sodden at this very moment. Vilgefortz has disappeared without a trace. Tissaia de Vries has committed suicide, and you’ve become queen of the Valley of Flowers. Imperator Emhyr has rewarded you with a crown and sceptre in exchange for my Ciri, whom he was hunting for so long, and whom he now has in his power and is using as he sees fit. You packed me up and have kept me in a box as a jade statuette for a month and a half. And no doubt expect me to thank you for it.’
‘It would be polite,’ Francesca Findabair replied coldly. ‘On Thanedd there was a certain Rience, who had made it a point of honour to submit you to a slow and cruel death, and Vilgefortz offered to expedite it. Rience pursued you all over Garstang. But he didn’t find you, because you were already a jade figurine safe in my cleavage.’
‘And I was that figurine for forty-seven days.’
‘Yes. While I, if asked, could always reply that Yennefer of Vengerberg was not in Dol Blathanna. Because the question referred to Yennefer, not a statuette.’
‘What changed to induce you finally to unpack me?’
‘A great deal changed. I shall explain forthwith.’
‘First explain something else to me: the Witcher was also on Thanedd. Geralt. Remember, I introduced him to you in Aretuza. How is he?’
‘Please remain calm. He’s alive.’
‘I am calm. Tell me, Enid.’
‘In the space of an hour,’ Francesca said, ‘your Witcher did more than some manage in their entire lives. Put succinctly: he broke Dijkstra’s leg, beheaded Artaud Terranova and slew ten Scoia’tael. Oh, I almost forgot: he also aroused Keira Metz’s unhealthy passions.’
‘Dreadful,’ Yennefer said with a grimace. ‘But Keira will have got over it by now, I imagine. I hope she doesn’t hold a grudge against him. The fact that he didn’t fuck her after inflaming her desire certainly resulted from lack of time, not lack of respect. Please put her mind at ease for me.’
‘You’ll have the chance to do that yourself,’ the Daisy of the Valleys said coldly. ‘And quite soon. Let’s go back, though, to the issues about which you are lamely feigning indifference. Your Witcher was so fervid in his defence of Ciri that he acted very rashly. He attacked Vilgefortz. And Vilgefortz gave him a sound thrashing. The fact that he didn’t kill him certainly resulted from lack of time, not lack of effort. Well? Are you still going to pretend you don’t care?’
‘No,’ Yennefer said, her grimace no longer expressing scorn. ‘No, Enid. I do care. Some people will soon learn how much. You can take my word for it.’
Francesca was no more concerned by Yennefer’s threat than she had been by her mockery.
‘Triss Merigold teleported what was left of the Witcher to Brokilon,’ she stated. ‘As far as I know, the dryads are still healing him. He is said to be recovering now, but it would be better if he didn’t venture out of the forest. He’s being tracked by Dijkstra’s spies and the military intelligence services of all the kings. So are you, for that matter.’
‘What did I do to deserve such attention? I didn’t break anything of Dijkstra’s . . . Oh, keep quiet and let me guess. I vanished without a trace from Thanedd. No one suspects I ended up in your pocket, shrunken down and packed up. Everybody is convinced I escaped to Nilfgaard with my fellow conspirators. Everybody apart from the real conspirators, naturally, but they won’t be correcting that error. For a war is raging, and disinformation is a weapon whose blade must always be kept sharp. And now, forty-seven days later, comes your moment to use that weapon. My house in Vengerberg is burnt to the ground, and I’m being hunted. There’s nothing left to do but join a Scoia’tael commando. Or join the fight for the elves’ freedom in some other way.’
Yennefer sipped her carrot juice, and stared into the eyes of Ida Emean aep Sivney, who still remained peaceful and silent.
‘Well, Mistress Ida, free lady of the Aen Seidhe from the Blue Mountains, have I correctly guessed what’s in store for me? Why are you so tight-lipped?’
‘Because I, Mistress Yennefer,’ the red-headed she-elf answered, ‘say nothing when I have nothing sensible to say. It’s always better than to make unfounded speculations and disguise one’s anxiety with idle talk. Enid, get to the point. Tell Mistress Yennefer what this is all about.’
‘You have my undivided attention,’ Yennefer said, touching the obsidian star hanging from its velvet ribbon. ‘Speak, Francesca.’
The Daisy of the Valleys rested her chin on her interlocked hands.
‘Today,’ she announced, ‘is the second night of the full moon. In a short while, we shall be teleporting to Montecalvo Castle, the s
eat of Philippa Eilhart. We shall be taking part in a session of an organisation that ought to interest you. After all, you were always of the opinion that magic represents the utmost value, superior to all disputes, conflicts, political choices, personal interests, grudges, sentiments and animosities. It will no doubt gladden you to hear that not long ago the foundations of an institution were laid down. Something like a secret lodge, brought into being exclusively to defend the interests of magic, meant to ensure that magic occupies the place it deserves in the hierarchy of the world. Exercising my privilege to recommend new members to this lodge, I took the liberty of proposing two candidates: Ida Emean aep Sivney and you.’
‘What an unexpected honour,’ Yennefer sneered. ‘From magical oblivion straight to a secret, elite and omnipotent lodge, which stands above personal grudges and resentments. But am I suitable? Will I find sufficient strength of character to rid myself of my grudges against the people who took Ciri from me, cruelly beat a man who is dear to me, and packed—’
‘I am certain,’ the she-elf interrupted, ‘that you will find sufficient strength of character, Yennefer. I know you and know you are not lacking in strength of that kind. Neither are you lacking in ambition, which ought to dispel your doubts about the honour and the advancement which has come your way. If you want, though, I’ll tell you frankly: I’m recommending you to the lodge, because I consider you a person who deserves it and who may render the cause a significant service.’
‘Thank you,’ Yennefer responded, the scornful smirk in no hurry to disappear from her lips. ‘Thank you, Enid. I truly feel the ambition, hubris and self-adoration filling me up. I’m ready to explode at any moment. And that’s before I even begin wondering why you aren’t recommending one more elf from Dol Blathanna or a she-elf from the Blue Mountains instead of me.’
‘You will find out why in Montecalvo,’ Francesca replied coldly.
‘I’d rather find out now.’
‘Tell her,’ Ida Emean muttered.
‘It’s because of Ciri,’ Francesca said after a moment’s thought, raising her inscrutable eyes towards Yennefer. ‘The lodge is interested in her, and no one knows the girl as well as you. You’ll learn the rest when we get there.’
The Saga of the Witcher Page 95
