The Witcher

BLOOD OF ELVES VI

'And now,' said the girl, turning her nose up even higher, 'I will leave you alone because you no doubt wish to talk over various important matters with Triss. Miss Merigold. Uncle Vesemir, gentlemen ... I bid you goodbye. For the time being.'

She curtseyed gracefully then left the hall, walking up the stairs slowly and with dignity.

'b****y hell.' Lambert broke the silence. 'To think I didn't believe that she really is a princess.'

'Have you understood, you idiots?' Vesemir cast his eye around. 'If she puts a dress on in the morning I don't want to see any exercises . . . Understood?'

Eskel and Coen bestowed a look which was entirely devoid of respect on the old man.

Lambert snorted loudly. Geralt stared at the enchantress and the enchantress smiled back.

'Thank you,' he said. 'Thank you, Triss.'

'Conditions?' Eskel was clearly worried. 'But we've already promised to ease Ciri's training, Triss. What other conditions do you want to impose?'

'Well, maybe "conditions" isn't a very nice phrase. So let us call it advice. I will give you three pieces of advice, and you are going to abide by each of them. If, of course, you really want me to stay and help you bring up the little one.'

'We're listening,' said Geralt. 'Go on, Triss.'

'Above all,' she began, smiling maliciously, 'Ciri's menu is to be more varied. And the secret mushrooms and mysterious greens in particular have to be limited.'

Geralt and Coen controlled their expressions wonderfully, Lambert and Eskel a little less so, Vesemir not at all. But then, she thought, looking at his comically embarrassed expression, in his days the world was a better place. Duplicity was a character flaw to he ashamed of.

Sincerity did not bring shame.

'Fewer infusions of your mystery-shrouded herbs,' she continued, trying not to giggle, 'and more milk. You have goats here. Milking is no great art. You'll see, Lambert, you'll learn how to do it in no time.'

'Triss,' started Geralt, 'listen—'

'No, you listen. You haven't subjected Ciri to violent mutations, haven't touched her hormones, haven't tried any elixirs or Grasses on her. And that's to be praised. That was sensible, responsible and humane. You haven't harmed her with any of your poisons -all the more so you must not cripple her now.'

'What are you talking about?'

'The mushrooms whose secrets you guard so carefully,' she explained, 'do, indeed, keep the girl wonderfully fit and strengthen her muscles. The herbs guarantee an ideal metabolic rate and hasten her development. All this taken together and helped along by gruelling training causes certain changes in her build, in her adipose tissue. She's a woman, and as you haven't crippled her hormonal system, do not cripple her physically now. She might hold it against you later if you so ruthlessly deprive her of her womanly . . . attributes. Do you understand what I'm saying?'

'And how,' muttered Lambert, brazenly eyeing Triss's breasts which strained against the fabric of her dress. Eskel cleared his throat and looked daggers at the young witcher.

'At the moment,' Geralt asked slowly, also gliding his eyes over this and that, 'you haven't noticed anything irreversible in her, I hope?'

'No.' She smiled. 'Fortunately, not. She is developing healthily and normally and is built like a young dryad - it's a pleasure to look at her. But I ask you to be moderate in using your accelerants.'

'We will,' promised Vesemir. 'Thank you for the warning, child. What else? You said three . . . pieces of advice.'

'Indeed. This is the second: Ciri must not be allowed to grow wild. She has to have contact with the world. With her peers. She has to be decently educated and prepared for a normal life. Let her wave her sword about for the time being. You won't turn her into a witcher without mutation anyway, but having a witcher's training won't harm her. Times are hard and dangerous; she'll be able to defend herself when necessary. Like an elf. But you must not bury her alive here, in the middle of nowhere. She has to enter normal life.'

'Her normal life went up in flames along with Cintra,' murmured Geralt, 'but regarding this, Triss, as usual you're right. We've already thought about it. In spring I'm going to take her to the Temple school. To Nenneke. To Ellander.'

'That's a very good idea and a wise decision. Nenneke is an exceptional woman and Goddess Melitele's sanctuary an exceptional place. Safe, sure, and it guarantees an appropriate education for the girl. Does Ciri know yet?'

'She does. She kicked up a fuss for a few days but finally accepted the idea. Now she is even looking forward to spring with impatience, excited by the prospect of an expedition to Temeria. She's interested in the world.'

'So was I at her age.' Triss smiled. 'And that comparison brings us dangerously close to the third piece of advice. The most important piece. And you already know what it is. Don't pull silly faces. I'm a magician, have you forgotten? I don't know how long it took you to recognise Ciri's magical abilities. It took me less than half an hour. After that I knew who, or rather what, the girl is.'

'And what is she?'

'A Source.'

'That's impossible!'

'It's possible. Certain even. Ciri is a Source and has mediumistic powers. What is more, these powers are very, very worrying. And you, my dear witchers, are perfectly well aware of this.

You've noticed these powers and they have worried you too. That is the one and only reason you brought me here to Kaer Morhen? Am I right? The one and only reason?'

'Yes,' Vesemir confirmed after a moment's silence.

Triss breathed an imperceptible sigh of relief. For a moment, she was afraid that Geralt would be the one to confirm it.

The first snow fell the following day, fine snowflakes initially, but soon turning into a blizzard. It fell throughout the night and, in the early morning, the walls of Kaer Morhen were drowned beneath a snowdrift. There could be no question of running the Killer, especially since Ciri was still not feeling very well. Triss suspected that the witchers' accelerants might be the cause of the girl's menstrual problems. She could not be sure, however, knowing practically nothing about the drugs, and Ciri was, beyond doubt, the only girl in the world to whom they had been administered. She did not share her suspicions with the witchers. She did not want to worry or annoy them and preferred to apply her own methods. She gave Ciri elixirs to drink, tied a string of active jaspers around her waist, under her dress, and forbade her to exert herself in any way, especially by chasing around wildly hunting rats with a sword.

Ciri was bored. She roamed the castle sleepily and finally, for lack of any other amusement, joined Coen who was cleaning the stable, grooming the horses and repairing a harness.

Geralt to the enchantress's rage disappeared somewhere and appeared only towards evening, bearing a dead goat. Triss helped him skin his prey. Although she sincerely detested the smell of meat and blood, she wanted to be near the witcher. Near him. As near as possible. A cold, determined resolution was growing in her. She did not want to sleep alone any longer.

'Triss!' yelled Ciri suddenly, running down the stairs, stamping. 'Can I sleep with you tonight? Triss, please, please say yes! Please, Triss!'

The snow fell and fell. It brightened up only with the arrival of Midinvaerne, the Day of the Winter Equinox.

On the third day all the children died save one, a male barely ten. Hitherto agitated by a sudden madness, he fell all at once into deep stupor. His eyes took on a glassy gaze; incessantly with his hands did he clutch at clothing, or brandish them in the air as if desirous of catching a quill. His breathing grew loud and hoarse; sweat cold, clammy and malodorous appeared on his skin. Then was he once more given elixir through the vein and the seizure it did return. This time a nose-bleed did ensue, coughing turned to vomiting, after which the male weakened entirely and became inert.

For two days more did symptoms not subside. The child's skin, hitherto drenched in sweat, grew dry and hot, the pulse ceased to be full and firm — albeit remaining of average strength, slow rather than fast. No more did he wake, nor did he scream.

Finally, came the seventh day. The male awoke and opened his eyes, and his eyes were as those of a viper . . .

Carla Demetia Crest, The Trial of Grasses and other secret Witcher practices, seen with my own eyes, manuscript exclusively accessible to the Chapter of Wizards