Without a word she sat down at the table and rested her chin on her hands.
‘Well, come on, let's get started,’ she said, ‘This lengthy, dramatic silence is too banal for me. Let's get on with it. Get off the bed and stop gazing at the ceiling looking all offended. The situation is already quite silly and there's no reason to make it even sillier. Get up, I say.’
He got up willingly and, without hesitation, sat down astride the chair opposite her. She didn't look away from him, as might be expected.
‘As I said, let's fix this and fix it quickly. To avoid making the situation even more uncomfortable, I will quickly answer a few questions without you having to ask them. Yes, it's true that in choosing to ride with you to Aedd Gynvael, I knew that I was going to see Istredd and knew that, having met up with him, I would sleep with him. I didn't realise that it would become public knowledge and that you would end up bragging to each other about it. I now know how you feel, and for that I'm sorry. But no, I do not feel guilty.’
He was silent.
Yennefer shook her head, her black, shimmering curls cascaded onto her shoulders.
‘Geralt, say something.’
‘He…’ Geralt cleared his throat. ‘He calls you Yenna.’
‘Yes,’ she looked away. ‘And I call him Val. That's his name. Istredd is a nickname. I have know him for years, Geralt. He is very dear to me. Don't look at me like that. You are also very dear to me. And therein lies the whole problem.’
‘Are you thinking about accepting his proposal?’
‘Just so you know, I'm thinking about it. As I told you, we've known each other for years. Since… many years. We share interests, goals and ambitions. We understand each other without words. He can support me, and who knows, there may come a day when I need support. And above all… he… he loves me. I think.’
‘I won't stand in your way, Yen.’
Her head jerked up and her violet eyes shone with pale fire.
‘In my way? Don't you understand anything, you idiot? If you were in my way, just a hindrance, I could be rid of you in the blink of an eye; teleport you to the end of Cape Bremervoor or create a tornado to transport to the country of Hanna. With a little effort, I could turn you into a piece of quartz and put you in my garden, in the flowerbed with the peonies. I could brain-wash you so that you'd forget who I am and what my name is. This would be the ideal solution, because then I could simply say: 'It was fun, bye.' I could walk away quietly, just like you did when you ran away from my house in Vengerberg.’
‘Don't shout, Yen, there's no need to be so aggressive. And don't bring up Vengerberg again, we agreed not to talk about it anymore. I'm not angry with you, Yen, and I'm not blaming you. I know that you can't be held to common mores. And it hurts… it kills me, the thought that I'll lose… this cellular memory. Atavistic remnants of feeling in a mutant devoid of emotion…’
‘I can't stand it when you talk like that!’ she burst out. ‘I hate it when you use that word. Never use it in my presence again. Never!’
‘Does it change facts? In the end, I'm still a mutant.’
‘It's not a fact. Do not say that word in my presence.’
The black kestrel, standing on the deer's horns, flapped its wings and scratched with its claws. Geralt looked at the bird, at its yellow, unmoving eyes. Yennefer again rested her chin on her hands.
‘Yen.’
‘I'm listening, Geralt.’
‘You promised to answer my questions. Questions that I don't even need to ask. There is one very important one. One that I've never asked. The one I'm afraid to ask. Answer it.’
‘I cannot, Geralt,’ she said, firmly.
‘I don't believe you, Yen. I know you too well.’
‘You can never truly know a sorceress.’
‘Answer my question, Yen.’
‘The answer is: I don't know. But what kind of answer is that?’
Silence. The murmur of the hubbub from the street died down.
The fiery glow of the setting sun pierced the slits of the shutters and cast slanting rays of light across the room.
‘Aedd Gynvael,’ muttered the witcher. ‘A shard of ice… I felt it. I knew this city… was my enemy. Malignant.’
‘Aedd Gynvael,’ she repeated slowly. ‘The sleigh of the elven queen. Why, Geralt?’
‘I'm following you, Yen, because the reins of my sleigh became entangled with the runners of yours. And the blizzard rages around me. And the frost. And the cold.’
‘The warmth in you would melt the shard of ice with which I struck you,’ she murmured. ‘So the spell would vanish and you would see me as I really am.’
‘Lash your white horses, Yen, and make them fly north to where the thaw never comes. So that the ice will never melt. I want to us to soon be together in your castle of ice.’
‘The castle doesn't exist.’ Yennefer's lips trembled and twisted. ‘It is a symbol. And we drive ourselves towards an unobtainable dream. Because I, the Queen of the Elves, l long for warmth. That is my secret. So every year I take my sleigh out to the city, into the swirling snow, and every year someone, struck by my spell, tangles the reins of his sleigh with the runners of mine. Every year. Every year, someone new. Never ending. Because while the warmth I desire destroys the spell, it also destroys the magic and the charm. My chosen one, once star-struck by ice, suddenly becomes an ordinary nobody. And I, icy spell thawing before their eyes, become no better than the others… mere mortals.’
‘And from that pristine whiteness, spring emerges,’ he said ‘And Aedd Gynvael appears, an ugly city with a beautiful name. Aedd Gynvael and its pile of trash, a huge stinking heap of garbage that I have to enter because I'm paid to do so, because I was created to deal with the filth that fills others with fear and disgust. I have been deprived of the ability to feel, so I was not able to feel the horror of that disgusting squalor, so I would not retreat nor flee before it, full of dread. Yes, I have been deprived of emotion. But not completely. Whoever did it, botched the job.’
He fell silent. The black kestrel rustled its feathers, opening and closing its wings.
‘Geralt.’
‘I'm listening.’
‘Now you will answer my question. The question that I've never asked. That which I was afraid to ask… I'm also not going to ask it today, but please answer it. Because… because I really wish to hear your reply. It's the one thing, the one word you have never said. Say it, Geralt. Please.’
‘I cannot.’
‘Why is that?’
‘Don't you know?’ He smiled sadly. ‘My answer would be just a word. A word that doesn't express feelings, a word that doesn't express emotions, because I am devoid of them. A word that would only be a sound, like the sound a cold and empty skull makes when it's struck.’
She looked at him in silence. Her eyes, wide open, took on a deep violet colour.
‘No, Geralt,’ she said. ‘That's not true. Or only partly true. You are not deprived of feelings. Now I see. Now I know that…’
She fell silent.
‘Stop, Yen. You've already decided. Do not lie. I know you. I see it in your eyes.’
She looked away. He knew.
‘Yen,’ he whispered.
‘Give me your hand,’ she said.
She took his hand in hers; he immediately felt a tingling and the throbbing of blood in the veins of his forearm. Yennefer whispered a spell in a calm, measured voice, but he saw drops of sweat appear on her pale forehead from the effort and her pupils dilate with the pain.
Releasing his arm, she stretched out her hands and raised them in a gesture of gentle caress - stroking an invisible shape, slowly, up and down. Between her fingers, the air began to grow more dense and opaque, curling and wavering like smoke.
He was gazing in awe. The magic of creation, seen as the pinnacle of magician's achievements, had always fascinated him, much more than illusion and magical transformation. Yes, Istredd was right, he thought, in comparison with such magic, my
Signs look ridiculous.
Between Yennefer's hands that trembled with the effort, slowly materialised the form of a coal-black bird. The sorceress' fingers gently caressed the slightly ruffled feathers, flat head and curved beak. Yet another movement, hypnotic, fluid and delicate, and the black kestrel, lowering its head, croaked loudly. Its twin, still sitting motionlessly in the corner, responded with a squawk.
‘Two kestrels,’ Geralt said quietly. ‘Two black kestrels, created via magic. I guess you need both.’
‘You guess correctly,’ she said with difficulty. ‘I need both. I was wrong to think that one would suffice. I was very wrong, Geralt… which irritates me being the proud Queen of Winter, convinced of her own omnipotence. There are some things… you cannot obtain, even through magic. And some gifts you can't accept unless you are able to give something in return… something equally valuable. Otherwise, such a gift will slip through your fingers, like a shard of ice melting in a closed fist. There will remain only regret, a sense of loss and guilt…’
‘Yen…’
‘I am a sorceress, Geralt. The power I possess over matter is a gift. A gift I reciprocate. I paid for it… with everything I had. There's nothing left.’
She fell silent. The sorceress wiped her brow with a trembling hand.
‘I was wrong,’ she repeated. ‘But I'll fix my mistake. Emotions and feelings…’ she touched the black kestrel's head. The bird ruffled its feathers, opening its mute curved beak. ‘Emotions, whims and lies, fascinations and games. Feelings and the lack thereof… gifts that should not be accepted… lies and truth. What is right? To deny a lie? Or to state a fact? And if the fact is a lie, then what is truth? Who is so full of feelings that it tears them apart and who is a cold and empty shell of a skull? Who? What is right, Geralt? What is the truth?’
‘I don't know, Yen. You tell me.’
‘No,’ she said and lowered her eyes. It was the first time. He had never seen her do this before. Never.
‘No,’ she repeated. ‘I cannot, Geralt. I cannot tell you. It will be this bird, born from the touch of your hand, that will tell you. Bird, what is the truth?’
‘The truth,’ declared the kestrel, ‘is a shard of ice.’
VI
Although it seemed to him that he wandered the alleys aimlessly and with no destination in mind, he suddenly found himself near the south wall, at the excavation, amongst a network of trenches that wound chaotically and exposed parts of the ancient foundations, intersecting at the ruins of a stone wall.
Istredd was there. With rolled up shirt sleeves and tall boots, he shouted something to the servants who were using hoes to dig the wall of a trench striped with layers of different colours of earth, clay and charcoal. On some planks arranged to the side lay blackened bones, broken pieces of pots and other objects; unrecognisable, corroded and covered with rust.
The magician noticed him immediately. After he gave some muttered command to those digging, he jumped out of the trench and walked towards Geralt, wiping his hands on his trousers.
‘What do you want?’ he asked abruptly.
The witcher, standing motionless before him, did not reply. The men, pretending to work, watched them closely, whispering amongst themselves.
‘Hatred shines in your eyes,’ Istredd frowned. ‘What do you want, I ask you? Have you made a decision? Where is Yenna? I hope…’
‘Don't hold out too much hope, Istredd.’
‘Oh,’ said the magician. ‘What's this I hear in your voice? Do I understand you correctly?’
‘What is it that you understand?’
Istredd placed his hands on his hips and glared defiantly at the witcher.
‘Let's not deceive each other,’ he said. ‘You hate me and I hate you, too. You insulted me with what you said about Yennefer… you know what. I insulted you in a similar way. You offend me and I offend you. Let's settle this like men. I see no other solution. That's why you came here, right?’
‘Yes,’ Geralt said, rubbing his forehead. ‘You're right, Istredd. That's why I'm here. Without a doubt.’
‘Perfect. It cannot go on. Only today I learned that, for a few years, Yennefer has been back and forth between us like a rag ball. First she's with me, then she's with you. She'll run away from me to look for you and vice versa. The others that came in between don't count. Only the two of us matter. This can't go on. Out of the two of us, there must be only one.’
‘Yes,’ Geralt said, without removing his hand from his forehead. ‘Yes… you're right.’
‘In our arrogance,’ continued the magician, ‘we thought that Yenna wouldn't hesitate to choose the better of us. As for who was the better, neither of us had any doubt. We came to the point where, like a pair of urchins, we bragged about the regard she has shown us and, like inexperienced boys, we even divulged the nature of that regard and what it meant. I imagine that, like myself, you've been thinking about it and have realised just how wrong we were. Yenna doesn't want to choose between us, even if we were to accept that choice. Well, we'll have to decide for her. I'm not going to share Yenna with anyone, and the fact that you've come here says the same about you. We know this all too well. As long as there are two of us, neither of us can be sure of her feelings. There must be only one. You understand, right?’
‘True.’ the witcher said, barely moving his tense lips. ‘The truth is a shard of ice…’
‘What?’
‘Nothing.’
‘What's wrong with you? Are you sick or drunk? Or maybe full of witcher's herbs?’
‘I'm fine. Something… I have something in my eye. Istredd, there must be only one. Yes, that's why I've come here. Without a doubt.’
‘I knew it,’ said the magician. ‘I knew that you'd come. Anyway, I'll be honest with you. You anticipated my intentions.’
‘A ball of lightning?’ the witcher smiled wanly.
Istredd frowned.
‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘Maybe a ball of lightning. But certainly not in the back. Honourably, face to face. You are a witcher, it evens things out. Well, let's decide where and when.’
Geralt thought about it. And made a decision.
‘The square…’ he indicated with his hand. ‘I passed through it…’
‘I know. There's a well there, called the Green Key.’
‘So, near to the well. Yes. At the well… tomorrow, two hours after sunrise.’
‘Okay. I'll be punctual.’
They stood motionless for a moment, not looking at each other. Finally, the magician muttered something under his breath. He kicked at a block of clay then crushed it with a blow from his heel.
‘Geralt?’
‘What?’
‘Don't you feel stupid?’
‘I feel stupid,’ the witcher admitted reluctantly.
‘I'm relieved,’ muttered Istredd, ‘because I feel like the ultimate idiot. I never imagined that one day I'd have a fight to the death with a witcher over a woman.’
‘I know how you feel Istredd.’
‘Well…’ the magician forced a smile. ‘The fact that this has occurred, that I have decided to do something so completely contrary to my nature, is testament to the fact that… it is necessary.’
‘I know, Istredd.’
‘Of course you also know, whichever of us survives will have to immediately flee to the ends of the earth to hide from Yenna?’
‘I know.’
‘And of course you are aware of the fact that, after her rage has cooled off, you will be able to return to her?’
‘Of course.’
‘Well, that's settled,’ the magician gestured as though he was about the turn away, but after a moment's hesitation he extended his hand. ‘Until tomorrow, Geralt.’
‘Until tomorrow,’ the witcher shook his proffered hand. ‘Until tomorrow, Istredd.’
VII
‘Hey, Witcher!’
Geralt lifted his head from surface of the table, upon which, while lost in his thoughts, he'd drawn fancy c
urlicues in the beer that had spilled.
‘It wasn't easy to find you.’ Alderman Herbolth sat down and pushed aside the jugs and tankards. ‘At the inn they said you had gone to the stables, but at the stables I found only your horse and packs. And now you're here… It's probably the foulest tavern in town. Only the worst rabble comes here. What are you doing here?’
‘Drinking.’
‘I see. I wanted to talk with you. Are you sober?’
‘As an infant.’
‘Glad to hear it.’
‘What do you want, Herbolth? I am, as you can see, busy.’ Geralt smiled at the girl who placed another jug on the table.
‘Rumour has it,’ frowned the alderman, ‘that you and the magician have decided to kill each other.’
‘That's our business. His and mine. Mind your own business.’
‘No, it's not just your business.’ Herbolth disagreed. ‘We need Istredd, we can't afford another magician.’
‘Then go to the temple and pray for his victory.’
‘Do not mock,’ barked the alderman. ‘And don't get clever with me, vagabond. By the gods, if I didn't know that the magician will never forgive me, I'd throw you in the hole, into the very bottom of the dungeons, or have you dragged out of the city walls by horses, or even order The Cicada to gut you like a pig. But unfortunately, Istredd is very enthusiastic about matters of honour and he'd never forgive me. I know that he wouldn't.’
‘That's fantastic.’ The witcher downed another pint and spat out under the table a blade of straw that had fallen into his tankard. ‘I'm getting off lightly. Is that all?’
‘No,’ said Herbolth, drawing from inside his coat a purse stuffed with silver. ‘Here's a hundred marks, witcher, take them and get out of Aedd Gynvael. Get out of here, preferably immediately, in any case before sunrise. I told you that we can't afford another magician and I will not allow him to risk his life in a duel with someone like you, for a reason as stupid as…’
He stopped short, even though the witcher hadn't moved.
Andrzej Sapkowski - [Witcher] Page 12