The Time of Contempt

by Andrzej Sapkowski

  ‘Does Philippa Eilhart know what you intend?’

  ‘She does not know. She does not even know that I know that the girl is in Loxia. My dear Phil lifts her head up high, but King Vizimir still gives the orders in Redanian. I will fulfil Vizimir’s orders, the machinations of sorcerers give a shit. Cirilla will be out on the Waterfall and will set sail for Novigrad and then on to Tretogor. She will be safe. Do you believe me?’

  The Witcher leaned over one of the heads of the chimeras and drank water from the monstrous maw.

  ‘Do you believe me?’ Dijkstra repeated, coming over to him.

  Geralt straightened up, wiped his mouth with his hand and punched him straight in the jaw. The spy staggered, but did not fall. The nearest Redanian soldier leaped and tried to grab the Witcher, but he grabbed air instead, and immediately sat down, spitting blood and teeth. Then they all rushed at him. It created a crowded clutter of confusion and this is precisely what the Witcher wanted.

  One Redanian had his face smashed into a stone chimera; the gushing water was immediately stained red. The second was punched in the windpipe, he double over as if he’d been hit in the genitals. A third was beaten in the eye with an elbow, and fell back groaning. Dijkstra grabbed the witcher in a bear hug, but Geralt hit him hard in the shin with his heel. The spy howled and comically hopped around on one leg.

  Another soldier tried to hit the Witcher with a swordstaff, but it just whistled through the air. Geralt grabbed him by the elbow with one hand, the other by the wrist and spun him, knocking him to the ground into two others who were trying to rise. The soldier he was holding was strong and was not releasing the sword staff. Geralt tightened his grip and broke his hand with a snap.

  Dijkstra, still limping on one leg, made for a triton with the intentions of nailing the Witcher to the wall between its three points. Geralt reached down and grabbed the swordstaff with both hands and applied a principle known to scholars as leverage. The spy, saw before his eyes the joints of the brick wall, as he was launched into the air but it was too late to avoid the blow to the crotch from the head of the chimera.

  Geralt used the swordstaff to take down another of the soldiers, he then thrust the sword at the ground and with a blow from his boot broke it, shortening the shaft. He tested the blade, first by hitting Dijkstra in the back who was sitting astride the chimera’s head, then by silencing the cries of the soldier with the broken hand. The seams had long ago been ripped on his doublet and the Witcher felt much better.

  The last of the soldiers who were still standing attacked with a triton, thinking that its length gave him an advantage. Geralt hit him in the face and the soldier collapsed into a pot of agaves. Another Redanian, with extraordinary stubbornness, grabbed the Witcher’s thigh and bit him painfully. The Witcher with a furious kick robbed the man of any possibility of biting.

  Running up the stairs, gasping was Dandelion. When he saw what was happening he turned white as paper.

  ‘Geralt!’ he shouted after a moment. ‘Ciri has disappeared! She’s gone!’

  ‘I was expecting this.’ The Witcher hit one of the Redanians that did not want to stay down. ‘But be thankful you did not wait, Dandelion. I told you yesterday that if something happened you were immediately to come to Aretuza. Did you bring me my sword?

  ‘Both!’

  ‘That sword is Ciri’s, you idiot.’ Geralt hit the soldier who was stirring in the agaves.

  ‘I don’t know anything about swords,’ hissed the poet. ‘By the gods, stop hitting them! Don’t you see the eagle of Redania? These are King Vizimir’s people! This is treason and rebellion, you could go to the dungeon…’

  ‘To the gallows.’ Said Dijkstra, drawing his dagger and approaching at a stagger. ‘You are both going to the gallows…’

  He could not say any more as he fell to all fours, felled by a blow to the side of the head by the shaft of the swordstaff.

  ‘Breaking on the wheel,’ Dandelion said grimly. ‘Proceeded by being poked with hot tongs…’

  The Witcher kicked the spy in the ribs. Dijkstra fell onto his side like a slaughtered elk.

  ‘Dismemberment.’ Said the poet.

  ‘Stop it, Dandelion. Give me both swords. And get out of get quickly. Escape from the island. Run away as far as you can!’

  ‘And you?’

  ‘I’m going back to the top. I have to save Ciri… And Yennefer. Dijkstra, lie quietly and leave the dagger alone!’

  ‘You will not get away with this,’ the spy gasped. ‘I will bring my… I will follow you…’

  ‘No, you will go.’

  ‘I will go. I have fifty men on the deck of Waterfall…’

  ‘Is there a barber among any of them?’

  ‘Why?’

  Geralt went behind the spy, bent down, grabbed him by the foot, and twisted it sharply with great force. It cracked. Dijkstra screamed and fainted. Dandelion groaned as if it had been his own joint.

  ‘What you do to me after this,’ murmured the Witcher. ‘I don’t give a shit.’

  * * *

  At Aretuza it was quiet. In the ballroom only a few remained, not having the strength to make noise. Geralt avoided the room, not wanting to be seen.

  Not without some effort he found the room where he had slept with Yennefer. The halls of the palace were a labyrinth, and all look alike.

  The rag doll was watching him with its little button eyes.

  He sat on the bed, and clutched his head in his hands. On the floor there was no blood. But hanging on the back of a chair was a black dress. Yennefer had changed. Into male attire, the uniform of the conspirators? Or dragged away in her underwear. In demeterium chains.

  * * *

  At a bay window sat the healer, Marti Sodergren. She lifted her head when she heard his footsteps. Her cheeks were wet with tears.

  ‘Hen Gedymdeith is dead.’ She said, her voice cracking. ‘Heart attack. I could not do anything… Why did they call me so late? Sabrina struck me. I was struck in the face. Why? What has happened here?’

  ‘Have you seen Yennefer?’

  ‘No, I’ve not seen her. Leave me alone. I want to be alone.’

  ‘Show me the shortest way to Garstang. Please.’

  * * *

  Aretuza consisted of three overgrown terraces, above the slope of the mountain was steep and inaccessible. On the slope stood Garstang. The foundation of the palace was a dark boulder, homogeneous, smooth, close to the rocks. Only the top floor gleamed with marble and stained glass windows, the sun shone golden on the gilded dome plates.

  The paved road leading to Garstang and beyond, to the top, twisted around the mountain like a snake. There was, however, another way, a shortcut, stairs that connected the terraces, and just under Garstang they disappeared into a dark tunnel. Marti Sodergren pointed out to the Witcher just those stairs.

  Beyond the tunnel was a bridge crossing an abyss. After the bridge the stairs climbed sharply upwards, twisting and disappearing behind a bend. The Witcher quickened his pace.

  The balustrade of the staircase was decorated with statues of fauns and nymphs. The statues produced the impression of being alive. They moved. The Witcher’s medallion began to strongly vibrate.

  He rubbed his eyes. The apparent movement of the statues were that they changed appearance. The smooth stone was transformed into a porous and shapeless mass, eaten by salt and wind. They immediately returned to normal.

  He knew what it meant. The illusion that masked Thanedd swayed, was falling apart. The bridge was also partly illusion. Through the leaky camouflage loomed a cliff and a waterfall crashing loudly against its background.

  There were no dark tiles to indicate a safe path. He crossed the bridge slowly, watching every step, cursing in his mind the wasted time. When he found himself across the abyss, he heard the footsteps of a man running.

  He recognised him immediately. From above, down the stair case, came running Dorregaray, the sorcerer in service to King Ethain of Cidaris. He recalled t
he words of Philippa Eilhart. All sorcerers representing neutral kings had been invited as observers to Garstang. But the way Dorregaray was peeling down the stairs suggested that the invitation had been withdrawn suddenly.

  ‘Dorregaray!’

  ‘Geralt?’ Gasped the sorcerer. ‘What are you doing here? Do not just stand there, run away! Quickly, down the stairs, to Aretuza.!’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Betrayal.’

  ‘What?’

  Dorregaray suddenly shuddered and coughed in a strange way, and immediately bent over and fell, directly into the Witcher. Before Geralt could grab him, he saw the shaft of an arrow with gray feathers sticking from his back. He staggered with the sorcerer in his arms and it saved his life, because a second identical arrow, instead of going through his throat, slammed into the stone and the ironically smiling face of a Faun, ripping of the nose and part of the cheek. The witcher let go of Dorregaray and ducked behind the balustrade of the stairs. The sorcerer fell on top of him.

  There were two archers, and both had hats with squirrel tails. One was at the top of the stairs, staining his bow; the second was drawing his sword from its sheath and ran down the stairs, skipping several steps at a time. Geralt freed himself from Dorregaray and sprang up, while he drawing his sword. An arrow sang, the witcher stopped its singing by bouncing it off the tip of his sword quickly. The second elf was already closing, but seeing the arrow reflected by the sword, hesitated for a moment. But only for a moment. He threw himself at the witcher, his sword made the air moan with the swiftness of his cut. Geralt quickly sidestepped, so the blade of the elf slipped by his sword. The elf lost his balance, the witcher spun smoothly and delivered a blow to the side of his neck, just under the ear. Only once. It was enough.

  The archer on the top of the stairs again tightened his bow but had no time to release the string. Geralt saw a flash, the elf cried out, threw up his hands and fell down, hitting the steps. The back of his jacket was on fire.

  Running down the stairs was another sorcerer. At the sight of the witcher he stopped, raising his hands. Geralt wasted no time explaining, he fell flat on the ground, and the hiss of fiery lightning flew over him, smashing the Faun statue into fine dust.

  ‘Stop,’ he yelled. ‘It’s me, the witcher!’

  ‘Damn it,’ the sorcerer panted, approaching. Geralt could not remember meeting him at the banquet. ‘I had mistaken you for one of those rogue elves… What about Dorregaray? Alive?’

  ‘I think so…’

  ‘Quick, to the other side of the bridge!

  He gladly dragged Dorregaray, because in his haste he did not pay attention to the shaking and fading illusion. Nobody chased them, but despite this, the sorcerer raised his hand, shouted a spell and sent a lightning bolt to destroy the bridge.

  ‘That should stop them.’ He said.

  The witcher wiped the blood flowing from Dorregaray’s mouth.

  ‘He has a punctured lung. Can you help him?’

  ‘I can,’ Marti Sodergren said with effort, climbing the stairs from Aretuza. ‘What’s going on, Carduin? Who shot him?’

  ‘The Scoia’tael.’ The sorcerer wiped his forehead with his sleeve. ‘The is fighting in Garstang. Fucking gangs, each worse than the other Philippa by night put people in chains, along with Vilgefortz and Francesca Findabair, so Francesca introduced Squirrels to the island! And Tissaia de Vries… Damn, they have messed this up!’

  ‘Speak clearly, Carduin!’

  ‘I will not waste time chattering! I’m going to Loxia, there I’m immediately transporting to Kovir. And those there, in Garstang, can kill each other! It does not matter! We are at war! All this mess was engineered by Philippa to allow the kings to declare war on Nilfgaard! Meve of Lyria and Demavend of Aedirn provoked Nilfgaard! Do you understand that?’

  ‘No,’ said Geralt. ‘I do not want to understand. Where is Yennefer?’

  ‘Stop it!’ screamed Marti Sodergren, bent over Dorregaray. ‘Help me! Hold him! I cannot pull out the arrow!’

  They helped her. Dorregaray groaned and shuddered, the stairs where also shaking. Geralt initially thought it was the magic of Marti’s healing spells. But it was Garstang. Suddenly the stained glass windows exploded, flickering in the windows of the palace was fire and smoke.

  ‘The battle continues.’ Carduin clenched his teeth. ‘They hard going hard, spell after spell…’

  ‘Spells? In Garstang? But there is the magic blocking aura!’

  ‘It is Tissaia’s doing. She suddenly decided on which side to stand. She has removed the block, dissipating the aura and neutralizing the demeterium. Then everyone jumped at each other’s throats! Vilgefortz and Terranova on one side, and Philippa and Sabrina on the other… The columns broke and the roof collapsed… And Francesca opened the entrance to the basement and then, there were these elven devils… We shouted that we were just neutral but Vilgefortz laughed. Before we could build a shield, Drithelm received an eye through the eye, then covered him like a hedgehog… I did not stay to await the development of the issue. Marti, do you have much left to do? We have to get out of here!’

  ‘Dorregaray will not be able to walk.’ The healer wiped her bloody hands on her white ball gown. ‘Teleport us Carduin.’

  ‘Here? Are you crazy. Tor Lara is too close. Portal Lara produces emanations that affect all teleportation. No one can teleport from here!’

  ‘He cannot walk! I have to stay with him…’

  ‘Then stay!’ Carduin stood. ‘And have fun! I like living! I’m returning to Kovir! Kovir is neutral!’

  ‘Wonderful.’ The witcher spat, looking at the sorcerer who disappeared into the tunnel. ‘Camaraderie and solidarity! But I cannot stay with you, Marti. I have to go to Garstang. Your brother has destroyed this bridge. Is there another way?’

  Marti Sodergren sniffed. Then lifted her head and nodded.

  * * *

  He was near the walls of Garstang when Keira Metz fell on his head.

  The path indicated by the healer led through a hanging gardens of linked serpentine stairs. The stairs were thickly overgrown with ivy and honeysuckle, vegetation made it difficult to climb, but provided cover. He worked his way unnoticed to the same wall of the palace. While seeking entry, Keira fell on him, both collapsed into a blackthorn bush.

  ‘I’ve broken a tooth,’ The sorceress said sadly, lisping slightly. She was dishevelled, dirty, covered in plaster and soot and on her cheek was a large hematoma.

  ‘I think I broke my leg,’ she said, spitting blood. ‘ Is that you, witcher? I fell on you? How come?’

  ‘I wonder, too.’

  ‘Terranova kicked me out the window.’

  ‘Can you get up?’

  ‘No, I cannot.’

  ‘I want to get inside. Unnoticed. Which way?’

  ‘Are all witchers,’ Keira spat again, she moaned, trying to get up on her elbows. ‘crazy? The fighting continues in Garstang! It is so hot that even the stucco on the walls is melting! Are you looking for trouble?’

  ‘No, I’m searching for Yennefer.’

  ‘Ha!’ Keira ceased her effort and lay on her back. ‘I would like it if someone loved me so much. Take my hand.’

  ‘Maybe another time. Now I have to hurry.’

  ‘Take my hand, I say! I will show you the way into Garstang. I need to get this bastard Terranova. Well, what are you waiting for? You could not find the entrance, and if you did, you’d be finished off by the bastard elves… I cannot walk, but I’m still able to cast a few spells. If someone gets in our way, they’ll regret it.’

  She screamed when he lifted her.

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Never mind,’ she surrounded his shoulders with her arm. ‘It is this leg. You still smell like her perfume, you know? No, not that way. Turn around and go uphill. It is the second entry, on the side of Tor Lara. Maybe there are no elves… Auuu! Careful, dammit!’

  ‘Sorry. How did the Scoia’tael get here?’

  ‘They
were in the basement. Thanedd is empty as a shell, below there is a great cavern, you can reach it by boat, if one knows the way. Someone had betrayed us…. Auuu! Careful! Don’t shake me!’

  ‘Sorry. So the Squirrels came by sea? When?’

  ‘The gods know when. Maybe today, maybe a week ago? We were preparing for Vilgefortz and Vilgefortz for us. Vilgefortz, Francesca, Terranova and Fercart… We messed up badly. Philippa thought that they wanted to start a seizure of power in the Chapter, to exert influence over the kings… And then they were going to kill us during the conference… Geralt, I cannot stand it… Leg… Put me down for a moment. Auuuu!’

  ‘Keira it is an open fracture. Blood is running down the leg.’

  ‘Shut up and listen. Because it is about your Yennefer. We went to Garstang, to the Chamber. It has a magical lock, but the lock does not work on demeterium, we felt safe. Discussions began. Tissaia and the neutrals shouted at us, we yelled at them. And Vilgefortz remained silent and smiled…’

  * * *

  ‘I repeat, Vilgefortz is a traitor! He has partnered with Emhyr of Nilfgaard, pulled into a conspiracy! He broke the law, betrayed us and the kings…’

  ‘Slowly Philippa. I know that the grace that surrounds you from Vizimir, means more to you than the solidarity of the Brotherhood. The same applies to you Sabrina, You play the same role in Kaedwen. Keira Metz and Triss Merigold represent the interests of Foltest of Temeria, Radcliffe is an active tool of Demavend of Aedirn…’

  ‘What does this have to do with it, Tissaia?’

  ‘The interests of kings do not necessarily coincide with ours. I know perfectly well what was going on. The kings began the extermination of the elves, and other non-humans. Maybe you, Philippa, you thing it is right. Maybe you, Radcliffe, you think it appropriate to assist Demavend’s troops in a raid on Scoia’tael. But I am against it. And no wonder Enid Findabair is against you. But that still does not imply treason. Do not interrupt me! I know exactly what your kings planned, I know you want to start a war. Actions that could lead to the avoidance of war may constitute treason in the eyes of your Vizimir, but not mine. If you judge Vilgefortz and Francesca, also judge me!’