‘It's bright enough, you're simply going blind in your old age,’ Ciri said with careless cruelty of youth. ‘Give it to me, I'll read it myself. Where should I start?’
‘Here’ He pointed his bony finger. ‘Read it aloud.’
* * *
‘This Buyvid wrote strangely. Assengard was probably something like a palace if I'm not mistaken. But what is this country: Hundredlakes? I've never heard of it before. And what is Trifolium?’
‘Clover. And I'll tell you of the Hundredlakes of Assengard after you've finished reading.’
* * *
‘And no sooner had the elf Avallac'h spoken these words, than a little black bird flew quickly out from under the waters of the lake, in whose depths it had found refuge throughout the entire winter. The swallow, as learned men know well, does not fly away in autumn and return in the spring like the other birds, but gathers its small claws into large clusters and sinks to the bottom of the water, so that it survives there the entire winter period until spring comes and they fly out of the water. Because of this, the swallow is not only a symbol of spring and hope, but also an example of immaculate purity, because it never lands on the ground and has no contact with earthly dirt and filth.
But let us return to our lake: The circling bird must have fancied us, because he scattered the mist with his little wings and a wondrous, magical tower emerged unexpectedly out of the mist. We all sighed as one in amazement, because this tower, whose foundation was woven from mist and fog, was crowned at the top by a sparkling glow, like a magical aurora borealis. Verily, the tower had to be built with powerful magical arts, for it was incomprehensible to human intellect.
The elf Avallac'h was aware of our admiration and said, ‘That is Tor Zireael, the Tower of the Swallow. This is the Crossroads of the Worlds and the Gates of Time. Rejoice, men, that your eyes have seen this sight, because not all can see it and not at all times.’
When asked, however, if we could approach and behold the magnificent tower from nearer, Avallac'h laughed. ‘Tor Zireael,’ he said, ‘is a but a dream for you, you do not touch a dream. And that is good,’ he added, ‘because the tower serves only the knowledgeable and chosen few, for the Gate of Time is the door to hope and rebirth. But for the common people it is the gateway to nightmares.’ He had hardly uttered these words when the fog rose up again and our eyes failed to behold that magical sight…’
* * *
‘The landscape of Hundredlakes’, Vysogota said, ‘is now Mil Trachta. It is very broad, sliced through by the Yelena River, which cuts through lakes in the northern part of Metinna, near the border of Nazair and Mag Turga. Buyvid Backhuysen writes that they travelled south to the lake from Assengard… Today Assengard is no more, only its ruins remain and the closest town is Neunreuth. Buyvid counted sixteen leagues from Assengard. Many different lengths of measurement were used then, but if we use the most common, we can deduce that sixteen of their leagues is about fifty of our miles. We are in Pereplut, about three hundred and fifty miles to the south of Assengard. In other words Ciri, you are only separated from the Tower of the Swallow by three hundred miles, give or take. On your Kelpie it would likely only take you six weeks to get there. In the spring, of course. Not now, because frost is possible in a day or two.’
‘Assengard, from what I've read,’ Ciri murmured, pulling her nose thoughtfully, ‘is only ruins of the past now. And I have seen the ruins of the elven city of Shaerrawedd in Kaedwen with my own eyes. I've been there. People have looted and taken everything, leaving only the bare stones behind. I bet that only the stones of your Tower of the Swallow remain, and only the larger ones at that – the smaller ones have surely been stolen. If there was a portal there…’
‘Tor Zireael was magical. It was not visible to all. And portals are never to be seen.’
‘True,’ she admitted, and became thoughtful. ‘The portal on Thanedd was certainly not visible. It appeared suddenly on a bare wall… incidentally, just in time, because the magician who was pursuing me was closing in… I could hear him… and then, as if on command, the portal appeared.’
‘I'm sure,’ Vysogota said quietly, ‘if you went to Tor Zireael, the portal there would reveal itself to you as well. Even if it were in ruins, surrounded by bare stones, I'm sure you could find and activate it. And it would, I'm sure, obey your command. Because Ciri, I think you are the chosen one.’
* * *
‘Your hair, Triss, is like fire in the candlelight. And your eyes are like Lapis Lazuli. Your lips are like coral…’
‘Stop it, Crach. Are you drunk or what? Pour me some wine. And talk.’
‘About what?’
‘Don't be stupid! Of how Yennefer decided to go to the Sedna-Depth.’
* * *
‘How do you progress? Talk, Yennefer.’
‘First you will answer me one question: Who are those two women I meet every time I come to you? The ones that look at me every time with looks that are usually reserved for a piece of cat shit lying on the sofa? Who are they?’
‘Are you after their formal legal status or fact?’
‘The latter.’
‘They are my wives.’
‘I understand. Perhaps you should explain to them, when the opportunity arises, that the past is the past and was not written into the register.’
‘I have. But women are women. Never mind. Tell me, Yennefer. I'm interested in the progress of your work.’
The sorceress bit her lips. ‘Unfortunately, the progress is minimal. And time is running out.’
‘It is running out.’ He nodded. ‘And always brings new sensations. I have received news from the continent that will interest you. It comes from Corps of Vissegerd. Hopefully you know who Vissegerd is?’
‘A general from Cintra?’
‘A marshal. More precisely, chamberlain. He leads a part of the Temerian Army consisting of Cinterein emigrants and volunteers. There are more than enough volunteers from the islands to give pass messages first-hand.’
‘And what are they?’
‘You came here to Skellige on the nineteenth day of August, two days after full moon. On the same day, i.e. on the nineteenth, the Corps of Vissegerd, in the course of fighting on the River Ina, took in a group of refugees, among them Geralt and a troubadour that is known to him…’
‘Dandelion?’
‘Exactly. Vissegerd accused both of espionage, placed them under arrest, and wanted to put them to death, but the two prisoners escaped and rushed towards the Nilfgaardians that Vissegerd had alleged they were plotting with.’
‘Nonsense.’
‘I think so too. But I'm feeling that the witcher, contrary to what you think, is perhaps pursuing some cunning plan. That he is going to save Ciri from the Nilfgaardian creeps…’
‘Ciri is not in Nilfgaard. And Geralt does not pursue any plan. Planning is not one of his strong points. Never mind. What is important is that it is the twenty-sixth day of September and I still know too little. Not enough to do something… Unless…’
She trailed off, looking out the window, and played with the black velvet ribbon attached to the star of obsidian.
‘Unless?’
‘Instead of me laughing at Geralt, I could try his method.’
‘I do not understand.’
‘I could try to sacrifice myself. Sacrifice will pay off, yes, show good character… And it is in the shape of the grace of a goddess. She loves and appreciates those who sacrifice and suffer for a cause.’
He frowned. ‘I still do not understand. But I don't like what you are saying, Yennefer.’
‘I know. Me neither. But I've already gone too far… Perhaps the lion should hear the lamb’s complaint…’
* * *
‘I was afraid of that,’ whispered Triss. ‘That’s exactly what I was afraid of.’
‘I mean, I understood it at that time.’ Crach an Craite’s jaw muscles began to tense. ‘Yennefer knew that someone had eavesdropped on the conversations she had
through her infernal machine. Or that one of the interlocutors was treacherously telling…’
‘Or both.’
‘She knew it.’ Crach gritted his teeth. ‘But she still continued what she started. Perhaps because she needed a decoy? Using herself as the bait? Did she pretend to know more than she did to provoke the enemy? And so she went to the Sedna-Depth…’
‘As a challenge. As a provocation. She was taking a terrible risk, Crach.’
‘I know. She did not want any of us to run the risk… only volunteers. So she asked for two dragon boats…’
* * *
‘I have the two ships you asked for. The ‘Alcyone’ and the ‘Tamara’. And the crew. The ‘Alcyone' is captained by Guthlaf, son of Sven, because he asked for the honour. You must have impressed him Yennefer.
The ‘Tamara’ will be captained by Asa Thjazi, a captain in whom I have absolute confidence. Oh, I almost forgot. My son will be on the crew of ‘Tamara’, Hjalmar-SplitLip.’
‘Your son? How old is he?’
‘Nineteen.’
‘You started early.’
‘Look who’s talking. Hjalmar has personal reasons to ask to be included in the crew. I could not refuse him.’
‘Personal reasons?’
‘Do you really not know the story?’
‘No. Tell me.’
Crach an Craite emptied his drinking horn and smiled, reflecting on his memoirs.
‘The children of Ard Skellig,’ he began, ‘love ice skating in the winter, they can hardly wait for the first frost to come. They are always the first to walk on the barely frozen lakes, on sheets of ice so thin that they could not support an adult. Of course, the races are the best. Running and gaining momentum like there's no tomorrow, from one shore to another. The boys, however, also organize competitions that are called ‘Salmon Jumps’. The idea is to jump over the crags that rise from the ice like shark’s teeth. Just like a salmon when it jumps up the steps of a waterfall. You look for a suitably long line of stones, take off , and… Ha, I'm jumping around like a snot nosed brat myself…’
Crach an Craite became thoughtful and smiled a little.
‘Naturally,’ he continued, ‘whoever skips the longest series of rocks wins and afterwards flaunts himself like a peacock. At that time, Yennefer, the winner is often bestowed Yours Truly as their humble servant for a day, oho. That is mainly what interested my son, Hjalmar. He leapt over rocks that none of the other boys dared jump. And this led to a highly raised nose – he challenged anyone to try to defeat him. And his challenge was accepted. By Ciri, Pavetta’s daughter from Cintra. She was not even one of the islanders, although she was allowed because she had spent more time here than in Cintra.’
‘Even after Pavetta's accident? I thought Calanthe had forbidden her to stay here?’
‘You know about that?’ He shot her a quick glance. ‘Then you know a lot Yennefer. A lot. Calanthe's anger and bans lasted no longer than six months, and then Ciri once again started to spend summers and winters here… and to skate. She was quick as hell, but that she would compete with the other boys in ‘Salmon Jumps’? And challenge Hjalmar? Inconceivable!’
‘She jumped’, guessed the sorceress.
‘Yes. This small Cinterein could jump like a half-devil. A real lion cub from the blood of the lion. And Hjalmar, in order to not be made a mockery of, had to risk taking a leap over an even longer series of rocks. He risked it. He broke his leg, his arm, four ribs, and smashed his face. The scar will remain with him until death. Hjalmar-SplitLip! And his famous fiancée. Hehe!’
‘Fiancée?’
‘You didn’t know that either? How can you know so much about some things and nothing at all about others? She came to visit him, as he lay recovering from the famous leap. She read to him, talked with him, held hands with him… And if someone entered the room, they both turned as red as radishes. Well, finally Hjalmar told me that they had gotten engaged. I nearly had a stroke. I told the brat I’d arrange an engagement for him, but with a bullwhip! And I was a bit worried because I’d noticed that the lion cub had hot blood. Even when everything went smoothly, she was a daredevil, not to mention a little crazy… Fortunately, Hjalmar was stuck in there for a while, so they couldn’t run off and do anything stupid…’
‘How old were they then?’
‘He was fifteen, she nearly twelve.’
‘Your fears might have been exaggerated a little.’
‘Perhaps. But Calanthe, who I had to tell all of it to, did not take the matter lightly. I know she had wedding plans for Ciri, to join her with young Tancred Thyssen of Kovir or perhaps to the Redanian prince, Radovid, I don’t know exactly. But rumours can hurt marriage plans, even rumours about innocent kissing or semi-innocent kissing… Calanthe immediately brought Ciri back to Cintra. The girl bucked and howled snot and water, but to no avail. The Lioness of Cintra put her foot down. For the following two days, Hjalmar lay with his face to the wall and would answer no one. Once he was healthy again, he tried to steal a skiff and sail off to Cintra alone. He had to be calmed down somewhat by my belt. But then…’
Crach an Craite stopped to think.
‘Then came the summer, and then autumn, and soon enough the power of Nilfgaard rolled forth against Cintra, over the Marnadal-Stairs, over the south wall. Hjalmar found a different opportunity to become a man. He boldly defied the blacks at Marnadal, then in Cintra, and then in Sodden. Even later, when the dragon boats sailed to the Nilfgaardian coast, Hjalmar had a sword in his hand, retaliating for his almost-fiancée, who he thought to be dead at the time. I did not think so, since the phenomena I told you of earlier had not occurred… Well, now that Hjalmar has learned of a possible rescue expedition, he has volunteered.’
‘Thank you for the story, Crach. I feel rejuvenated after listening to it. It made me… forget my worries.’
‘When will you set out, Yennefer?’
‘In the coming days. Possibly even tomorrow. I have one last telecommunication I need to conduct.’
* * *
Crach an Craite’s eyes were like a hawk’s. They drilled deep inside her…
‘By chance, do you happen to know, Triss Merigold, who Yennefer conducted her last call with before she took her infernal machine apart? On the night of the twenty-seventh to the twenty-eighth of August? With whom? And about what?’
Triss shut her eyelashes to hide from his eyes.
* * *
The brilliant beam of light, broken by the diamond, flashed on the surface of the mirror. Yennefer stretched out both hands and began chanting a spell. The blindingly bright light reflected and concentrated into a fog. Soon a picture began to emerge. The image of a room whose walls were covered with colourful tapestries.
A movement at the window. And a troubled voice. ‘Who? Who's there?’
‘I'm here, Triss.’
‘Yennefer! That you? Gods! How did… Where are you?’
‘It does not matter where I am. Do not block the image, because the picture varies. And take away that candle, its blinding.’
‘Right. Of course.’
Although it was late at night, Triss Merigold was wearing neither lingerie nor her work clothes. She wore a dress for going out. As usual, high collared and closed.
‘Can we talk freely?’
‘Of course.’
‘You're alone?’
‘Yes.’
‘You're lying.’
‘Yennefer…’
‘You are deceiving me, brat. I know your face; I know you too well. It’s the same look you had when you started sleeping with Geralt behind my back. Back then you put on the same sheepish, innocent mask that I see on your face now. And it means the same thing now that it meant back then!’
Triss was red. Philippa Eilhart appeared in the window next to her, dressed in a dark blue men’s jerkin. ‘Bravo,’ she said. ‘As usual, quick. As usual, perceptive. As usual, hard to grasp and understand. I am glad to see you in health, Yennefer. I am happy that your
crazy teleportation from Montecalvo did not end in tragedy.’
‘Let's assume that you really are happy.’ Yennefer pouted. ‘Although that is a very bold assumption. But never mind that, who betrayed me?’
Philippa shrugged her shoulders. ‘Does it matter? For four days now you’ve been in contact with traitors. To such as them, venality and treachery are second nature. And to those that you have blackmailed to betrayal. One of them has betrayed you. The normal course of events. Don't tell me you didn't expect it.’
‘Of course I expected it,’ snapped Yennefer. ‘The best proof of that is that I've contacted you. I did not have to.’
‘You did not have to. This means that you have an agenda.’
‘Bravo. As usual, quick. As usual, perceptive. I have contacted you to assure you that the secret of your Lodge is safe with me. I will not tell on you.’
Philippa stared at her from under lowered eyelids. ‘If you believe,’ she said finally, ‘that you've won peace, time, or security with this declaration, then you've miscalculated. Make no mistake about it, Yennefer. When you fled from Montecalvo, you made your decision. You chose to stand on a different side of the barricade. If you are not with the Lodge, you are against the Lodge. Now you're trying to forestall us from finding Ciri, and the motives that guide you are opposed to ours. You act against us. You do not want to allow us to use Ciri for our political purposes. You should know that we will also do everything in our power to make sure that you cannot use the girl for your sentimental purposes.’
‘So its war?’
‘Competition.’ Philippa smiled toxically. ‘Competition only, Yennefer.’
‘Decent and honourable?’
‘You must be joking.’
‘Obviously. Though on at least one specific issue, I would like have an honest and genuine conversation. And incidentally it involves a favour to me.’
‘Speak.’
‘Over the next few days, maybe even tomorrow, events will occur whose consequences I cannot foresee. It may happen that our competition and rivalry suddenly has no meaning. For the simple reason that one of the competitors will not be there anymore.’
Andrzej Sapkowski - [Witcher 05] Page 36