The Time of Contempt

by Andrzej Sapkowski

  ‘My hero…’ the apricot lady regained consciousness and threw her arms around squire’s neck. ‘My saviour! My beloved!’

  ‘Fabio,’ murmured Ciri, seeing town guards making their way through the crown. ‘Help me up and take me away from here. Fast!’

  ‘Poor children…’ a fat townswoman nodded at them when they were sneaking away from the commotion. ‘You sure were lucky. If not for the brave warrior your mothers would cry their eyes out after you!’

  ‘Find out whom the youth is working for!’ yelled craftsman in a leather coat, ‘He deserves to be knighted for this deed!’

  ‘And the monster-catcher to the pillow! He deserved a good whipping! Bringing such a beast to a town, among the people…’

  ‘Water, quick! The lady has lost consciousness again!’

  ‘My poor Princess!’ wailed the merchantress leaning above whatever was left of the dog. ‘My poor baby! Peopleee! Catch his girl, this rogue who annoyed the dragon! Where is she? Capture her! It’s not the monster-catchers fault, but hers!’

  The guards, helped by many volunteers, began combing the crowd. Ciri managed to get over her dizziness.

  ‘Fabio,’ she whispered, ‘We need to split up. We’ll meet in the same alley we arrived here from. Go. And if someone stops you and asks about me, feign ignorance.’

  ‘But… Ciri…’

  ‘Go!’

  She squeezed Yennefer’s amulet and activated the spell. The spell worked immediately and just on time. The guards, who were already making way in the crowd towards her, stopped confused.

  ‘The Hell?’ moaned one, looking directly at the place Ciri stood. ‘Where she at? I’ve just seen her ‘round here!’

  ‘Over there! Over there!’ yelled the other one, painting at the opposite direction.

  Ciri turned around and walked away, still a bit dizzy from the rush of adrenaline and activation of the amulet. The amulet worked exactly the way it was supposed to – nobody could see her. Nobody at all. As a result, before getting out of the crowd, she was shoved countless times, kicked and stepped on. She missed by a heartbeat a crate thrown down from a wagon. She was almost stabbed with a pitchfork. Spells, it seemed, had a bad side as well as a good side – and just as many values as flaws.

  The amulet didn’t operate for long. Ciri didn’t have enough power to control it and prolong its work. Fortunately, the spell stopped working at the right moment – just as she stepped out of the rabble and saw Fabio waiting for her.

  ‘Oh, dear!’ sighed the boy, ‘Oh dear, Ciri. You’re here. I was so worried…’

  ‘You were worried for nothing. Let’s go back. The noon has passed already, we must make haste.’

  ‘You sure dealt with that monster well.’ The boy gazed at her with respect. ‘You were moving so fast! Where did you learn to move like that?’

  ‘Like what? The wyvern was killed by the squire.’

  ‘Not true. I saw it myself…’

  ‘You saw nothing! Please, Fabio, don’t tell anybody about it. Not one soul. And definitely not lady Yennefer. Oh, she would scold me so hard if only she knew…’

  She was quiet for a while.

  ‘These people there,’ she nodded at the square, ‘were right. I was the one who provoked the wyvern… it’s all because of me…’

  ‘It’s not your fault,’ disagreed Fabio. ‘The cage was rotten and badly-built. It could burst at any moment: an hour from now, tomorrow, the day after… It’s better that it happened then, because you could save…’

  ‘The squire saved!’ yelled Ciri, ‘The squire did! Get it into your thick skull! I swear if you let the word out I’ll change you into… into something terrible! I know magic! I will magic you into…’

  ‘Oi!’ exclaimed a voice from behind their backs, ‘Enough of this!’

  One of the women following them had dark, evenly combed hair, sparkling eyes and thin lips. She wore a short, violet silk coat trimmed with dormice fur.

  ‘Why aren’t you in school, student?’ she asked coldly, glaring at Ciri.

  ‘Wait, Tissaia,’ said the other woman, younger, tall and blond, in a green dress with a considerable neckline. ‘I don’t recognize her. I don’t think she’s…’

  ‘She is.’ Cut the dark-haired one. ‘I’m certain that she’s one of your girls, Rita. You can’t possibly know them all. She must be one of those who sneaked out through Loxia during the chaos when the students changed quarters. And now we shall wait for her explanation. Well, student?’

  ‘What?’ Ciri frowned.

  The woman pursed her thin lips and evened the cuffs of her gloves.

  ‘Where did you steal that amulet from? Or perhaps someone had given it to you?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Don’t test my patience, student. Tell us your name, class and name of your preceptress. Now!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Are you playing dumb, student? Your name! What is your name?’

  Ciri clenched her teeth and her eyes shot green flames at them.

  ‘Anna Ingeborga Klopstock’ she hissed tactlessly.

  The woman raised her hand and Ciri immediately understood the seriousness of her mistake. Yennefer had demonstrated to her paralysing spells only once, tired with her long whining. The feeling had been considerably unpleasant. It was the same now.

  Fabio cried terrified and leaped towards her but the other woman, the blond one, caught him by the collar and forced him to stay in place. The boy jerked his arm but the woman had an iron grip. Ciri couldn’t move. The dark-haired one bent down and glared at her.

  ‘I am not in favour of corporal punishment,’ she drawled her words coldly, evening her cuffs yet again, ‘But I will ensure that you’re whipped, student. Not for misbehaviour, not for the theft or elopement. Not even for wearing illicit clothes, walking out with a boy and telling him about things you were forbidden from discussing. No, you will be whipped for being unable to recognize an Archmistress.’

  ‘No!’ yelled Fabio. ‘Don’t hurt her, Ma’am! I am a clerk at Molnar Giancardi’s bank and this lady is…’

  ‘Shut up!’ yelled Ciri. ‘Shut….’ The gagging spell was casted quickly and brutally. She could taste blood in her mouth.

  ‘Well?’ the blond woman urged Fabio.

  ‘Speak. Who is this haughty little miss?’

  * * *

  Margarita Laux-Antille emerged from the pool with a splash.. Ciri could not stop herself from taking a peek. She saw Yennefer in the nude many times and she didn't think anyone could have a more beautiful figure. She was wrong. At the sight of a naked Margarita Laux-Antille even marble statues of goddesses and nymphs would sob with jealousy.

  The Sorceress grabbed the bucket of cold water and poured it on her breasts, while swearing obscenely and shaking it off.

  ‘Hey, girl,’ she nodded at Ciri, ‘be so good and pass me a towel. Come on, stop pouting.’

  Ciri hissed quietly, still offended. When Fabio let out who Ciri was, the sorceresses dragged her through half of the city, exposing her to public mockery. In Giancardi's bank the whole incident was immediately explained. The Sorceresses apologized to Yennefer, explaining their behaviour. The misunderstanding was caused by the disciples of Arethusa, who were temporarily transferred to Loxia as the school facilities were turned into rooms for the guests and participants of the convent.. Some adepts took advantage of the chaos during the move and fled from Thanedd to the city. Alarmed by the activation of Ciri’s amulet, Margarita Laux-Antille and Tissaia de Vries mistook her for one.

  The sorcerers’ apologized to Yennefer, but none of them thought of apologizing to Ciri. Yennefer was looking at her while listening to the apology, and Ciri felt like her ears were burning. And the most unfortunate one was Fabio - Molnar Giancardi scolded him so harshly that the boy had tears in his eyes. Ciri felt sorry for him, but she was also proud of him - Fabio kept his word and he revealed nothing about the wyvern.

  Yennefer, as it turned out, knew Tissaia and Margarita. The So
rceresses had invited them to the Silver Heron, the best and most expensive inn in Gors Velen where Tissaia had stayed upon arrival, avoiding, for reasons known only to her, approaching the island. Margarita Laux-Antille, who was the Principal of Arethusa, had accepted the invitation of the older Sorceress and for a time shared a room with her. The inn was real luxury. They were in the basement baths, which Margarita and Tissaia had rented for their exclusive use, paying for it an unimaginable amount. Yennefer and Ciri of course, were encouraged to use the restrooms and as a result they had all soaked alternately in the pool and had spent a few hours sweating in the sauna, as well as non-stop chatting.

  Ciri gave the towel to the Sorceress. Margarita patted her gently on the cheek. Ciri snorted and jumped and splashed into the pool of scented rosemary water.

  ‘Floats like a little leaf’, smiled Margarita as she lay down next to Yennefer on a wooden couch. ‘And she is as well formed as a nymph. You’re giving her to me, Yenna?’

  ‘That is why I brought her here.’

  ‘For a year I take it? She knows the basics?’

  ‘She knows, but let her start like everyone else, from the beginning. It would not do her any harm.’

  ‘Good thinking’, said Tissaia de Vries, who was busy ordering the drinks that, were on the marble table covered with a layer of vapour droplets. ‘Good thinking, Yennefer. It will be easier on the girl if she starts together with the other novices.’

  Ciri emerged from the pool and sat down on the edge of the timbering, twirling her hair and splashing her feet in the water. Yennefer and Margarita chatted idly, occasionally wiping their faces with cold, wet towels.

  Tissaia, modestly wrapped in a sheet, did not join the conversation, giving the feeling of being totally absorbed in bringing order to the table.

  ‘I apologize humbly to the noble ladies!’, Exclaimed a voice from above from the unseen innkeeper. ‘Excuse me for daring to disturb, but… an officer urgently wants to see Madame De Vries! They say that this will suffer no delay!’

  Margarita Laux-Antille chuckled and winked at Yennefer, after which both, as to an order, withdrew the towels from their bosoms and adopted a position convoluted and highly challenging.

  ‘Let the officer enter!’ Cried Margarita, holding back laughter. ‘Go Ahead! We are ready!’

  ‘Like children’, sighed Tissaia de Vries, shaking her head ‘Cover yourself, Ciri.’

  The officer entered, but the trick of the sorceresses completely fizzled out. The officer was not disturbed by the sight before their eyes, didn’t blush, never opened their mouth, nor averted their eyes. Because the officer was a woman. A tall woman, slender, with a thick black braid and a sword at her side.

  ‘Madame,’ said the woman dryly, making a slight bow towards Tissaia de Vries, resulting in a rattle of chain mail. ‘I bring news that your orders have been executed. I request permission to return to the barracks.’

  ‘Granted,’ Tissaia said. ‘Thank you for the escort and for your help. Happy journey.’

  Yennefer sat on the couch, and looked at the insignia on the shoulder of the warrior which had the colours black, yellow and red.

  ‘Do you know who I am?’

  The warrior bowed stiffly, wiped her sweaty face. The bath was hot and she wore chain mail and a leather jacket.

  ‘I’m often in Vengerberg,’ she said. ‘Lady Yennefer. My name is Rayla.’

  ‘Judging by your badge, you serve in the special forces of King Demavend.’

  ‘Yes, Madam.’

  ‘What rank?’

  ‘Captain.’

  ‘Very good,’ laughed Margarita Laux-Antille. ‘I see that the army of Demavend have finally begun to give official patent to soldiers who have ovaries.’

  ‘Can I retire?’ The warrior stood up straight, placing her hand on the hilt of her sword.

  ‘You can.’

  ‘I noticed the hostility in your voice, Yenna’ said Margarita finally. ‘What do you have against the Lady Captain?’

  Yennefer got up and took two cups from the table.

  ‘Have you seen the posts that are along the roadside?’ She asked. ‘You should have seen them; you should have smelled the stench of rotting corpses. These posts are her idea and her work. Her and her subordinates from the Special Forces. Band of sadists!’

  ‘This is war, Yennefer. This Rayla has had to see on more than one occasion her comrades-in-arms who have fallen alive into the hands of the Squirrels. Hung by their wrists in the trees as a targets for arrows. Blinded, castrated with their feet burned in bonfires. The atrocities committed by the Scoia’tael would not shame Falka herself.’

  ‘The methods of the special forces also closely resemble the methods of Falka. However this is not it Rita. I do not pity the fate of the elves. I know what war is. I also know how to win a war. You win with soldiers with conviction and sacrifice defending the country, defending their homes. And not with such as this Rayla, with mercenaries fighting for money, cannot and do not want to sacrifice themselves for anyone. They do not even know what it is to sacrifice. And if they do, they despise it.’

  ‘To the Club, with your sacrifice and contempt. What does it matter to us? Ciri, jump up above and bring us another carafe. Today I want to get drunk.’

  Tissaia De Vries sighed and shook her head. This did not escape the attention of Margarita.

  ‘Fortunately,’ she laughed ‘we are no longer in school, dear teacher. We are free to do what we want.’

  ‘Even in the presence of a future adept?’ Tissaia asked venomously. ‘When I was Principal of Arethusa…’

  ‘I remember, we remember’ Yennefer cut in with a smile. ‘Although we would like to, we did not forget. Go for the carafe, Ciri.’

  Above, while waiting for the carafe, Ciri witnessed the departure of the warrior and her unit, consisting of four soldiers. With curiosity and admiration she contemplated their appearances, faces, clothes and weapons. Rayla, the captain with the black braid, was in an argument at that moment with the proprietor of the inn.

  ‘I will not wait for the sunrise! And I don’t give a fuck that the door is closed! I want to leave the city immediately! I know that the inn has its own stables and postern gate! I command you to open it!’

  ‘The laws…’

  ‘Bullshit what do I care for laws. I execute the orders of the great teacher de Vries!’

  ‘All right, Captain, do not shout, I will open…’

  The aforementioned gate, as discussed, was a narrow and firmly secured exit leading directly across to the other side of the wall of the city. Before Ciri could take the carafe from the hands of the maid she watched as the postern gate was opened and Rayla and her unit went outside into the night.

  It was thoughtful.

  ‘Well, finally,’ Margarita said happily although whether it was from seeing Ciri or the carafe that she was carrying. Ciri put the carafe on the table, obviously wrong, because Tissaia de Vries immediately move it. In serving, Yennefer destroyed the entire composition on the table and once again Tissaia started sorting it. Ciri imagined with horror Tissaia in the role of teacher.

  Margarita and Yennefer resumed their conversation not forgetting the carafe. Ciri realised that she would soon have to go for another. She sank into her thought while listening to the conversation of the sorceresses.

  ‘No, Yenna’, Margarita shook her head. ‘You are not someone I see on a regular basis. I broke up with Lars. It’s over. Elaine deireadh, as the elves say.’

  ‘Is that why you want to get drunk?’

  ‘Among other things’, confirmed Margarita ‘I am sad, I am not hiding. At the end of the day we’ve been together four years. But I had to break up with him. A stick is not a boat…’

  ‘Especially,’ snorted Tissaia de Vries staring into the golden wine that swayed in her cup ‘given that Lars is married.’

  ‘It is,’ the sorceress shrugged her shoulders ‘irrelevant. All the attractive men of that age that I am interested in are married, I
cannot help it. Lars loved me, and I seemed for a time I also found that I loved him… Ah what can I say. He wanted too much from me. He threatened my freedom and I gag just thinking about monogamy. At the end of the day, I have you as an example, Yenna. Remember that conversation in Vengerberg? When you decided to break with your Witcher? I advised you then that love is not just lying in the street. Yet it was you who were right. Love is love and life is life. Love passes…’

  ‘Do not listen to her Yennefer.’ Tissaia said with an icy voice. ‘She is full of sadness and bitter. Do you know why she is not going to the banquet of Arethusa? Because she is embarrassed to be there alone, without the man with whom she associated with for four years. They envied her. But she lost it because she could not appreciate his love.’

  ‘Wouldn’t it be better to speak of other things?’ Yennefer proposed, apparently unconcerned but her voice had changed somewhat. ‘Ciri, serve us. Damn this carafe is almost empty. Come on, be good and bring us another.’

  ‘Bring two,’ smiled Margarita ‘As a reward you will get a sip and sit down with us, you will no longer have to strain your ears from a distance. Your education starts here, now, from me before you reach Arethusa.’

  ‘Education!’ Tissaia rolled her eyes. ‘Gods!’

  ‘Hush dear teacher.’ Margarita gave a wet slap to her thigh feinting anger. ‘I am now the Principal of the school! You do not get to throw me into the final exams!’

  ‘Well, too bad.’

  ‘Note that from me too. Now would be a private consultation, like Yenna’s and should not tire the adept, she wouldn’t have to clean up the snot of the mourners, nor quarrel with the proud. Ciri, listen and learn. A sorceress always acts. For better or worse, that we’ll see later. But we must act, courageously and grab life by the horns. Believe me, little one, the only regret is having been inactive, indecisive, hesitant. Although sometimes the action and the decision produce grief and sadness, one does not repent of them ever. Look at this lady so serious that is sitting there, gesturing pedantically and ordering everything on hand. This is Tissaia de Vries, great teacher, who educated tens of sorceresses. Teaching them to act. That indecision…’