‘Nilfgaardian historians have written about it.’ Sabrina Glevissig interrupted with distinct irony. ‘As Lady Assire and Lady Vigo have undoubtedly read. Shorten it, Francesca. Skip to Riannon and the triplets of Houtborg.’
‘All right. Riannon, the daughter of Lara Dorren who was raised by Cerro the now wife of Goidemar the king of Temeria, was accidently captured by the rebel Falka and imprisoned in the castle of Houtborg. At the time of her capture she was pregnant. The castle defended itself long after the suppression of the rebellion and the loss of Falka, but Goidemar finally took it by storm and freed his wife. Along with her came three children, two girls and a boy. Riannon had gone mad. Goidemar, full of rage, subjected the other prisoners to torture and from the snippets of testimony hear through their howls, he arranged a clear picture of the events.’
‘Falka, who took after the beauty of her elven grandmother rather than her mother, generously bestowed her charms to all the nobles, knights, captains and sergeants, ensuring their loyalty and fidelity. Finally she became pregnant and gave birth to a child, just at the same time that Riannon, imprisoned in Houtborg, gave birth to twins. Falka ordered to give her baby to Riannon. She reportedly said that only queens were worthy of the honor of being a wet-nurse to her bastards, and the same fate awaited all the crowned females of her new order that she, Falka, would build after her victory.’
‘The problem was nobody, including Riannon, knew which of the three children, was Falka’s. It was alleged with a high degree of probability that it was one of the girls, apparently because Riannon gave birth to a boy and a girl. Again, supposedly, despite the boastful declaration of Falka’s her child was being nursed by an ordinary peasant wet nurse. Riannon when finally cured of her madness remembered almost nothing. Yes, giving birth. Yes, at sometime they brought triplets to her bed to show her. But nothing more.’
‘At that time wizards were summoned to examine the three of them and determine who was who. Goidemar was so furious that once they had discovered Falka’s bastard he had intentions of killing it publicly. We could not let this happen. After suppressing the uprising unspeakable savagery had been committed against the captured rebels, it was time to make it end. The execution of a child less than two years old, can you imagine? It was then that the legend arose! It was already beginning to circulate, a rumor that Falka was born as a result of the curse of Lara Dorren, which was of course, nonsense: Falka was born before Lara had ever meet Cregennan. But nobody wanted to count the years. Pamphlets and nonsense documents had been written and published in secret, even at the Academy in Oxenfurt. But I’ll go back to the tests that Goidemar asked us…’
‘Us?’ Yennefer raised her head. ‘Who is us?’
‘Tissaia de Vries, Augusta Wagner, Leticia Charbonneau and Hen Gedymdeith,’ Francesca said calmly. ‘Additionally, I joined this group. I was a young sorceress, but a pure blood elf. And my father… my biological father, for I was given up… He was a Knower. I knew about the gene of the Elder Blood.’
‘And this gene was found in Riannon, when you examined her and the king before you examined the children.’ Síle de Tansarville said. ‘And in two of the children which allowed you to reveal the gene lacking in Falka’s bastard. How did you save the child from the wrath of the king?’
‘Very simply,’ the elf smiled. ‘We pretended we did not know. We told the king that the case was not easy, we were still investigating, but that such investigations take time… A lot of time. Goidemar, deep down, had a good and noble heart, he calmed down quickly and didn’t urge us and soon the triplets had grown and ran about the palace, giving rise to joy to the royal couple and the whole court. Amavet, Fiona and Adela were alike as three sparrows. They were watched closely, constantly arising suspicions. Fiona poured the contents of a pot out of a window straight onto the head of a Constable, he called out that she was the evil bastard and so lost his office. Sometime later, Amavet smeared the stairs with grease and a lady of the court slipped in it, yelling something about cursed blood and was forced to say goodbye to the court. The low born were greeted with the whip and ostracized, so everyone soon learned to hold their tongue. Even a baron from a very old family, who Adela shot in the ass with a bow, was limited to…’
‘We will not expand on the antics of the children,’ Philippa Eilhart cut in. ‘When did you finally tell Goidemar the truth?’
‘He was never told. He did not ask for it and that suited us.’
‘But which of the children was the bastard of Falka? Did you know?’
‘Of course, Adela.’
‘Not Fiona?’
‘No, Adela. She died of the plague. Devil’s bastard, cursed blood, demonic daughter of Falka, during an outbreak, despite the protests of the king, was helping the priests in the hospital and saved the sick children of the castle, when she contracted it and died. She was seventeen. A year later her brother Amavet became entangled in an affair with the Countess Anna Kameny and was murdered by thugs hired by the Count. That same year, Riannon died, desperate and overwhelmed by the death of her children whom she loved. It was then that Goidemar called us again. The last of the three triplets, Princess Fiona had caught the interest of Coram, king of Cintra. He wanted a wife for his son, also called Coram, but knew of the rumors and would not marry his son if possible to Falka’s bastard. We assured them with our authority that Fiona was the legitimate daughter of the royal family. I do not know if they believed us, however, they young prince found her to his tastes and the daughter of Riannon, ancestor of Ciri, became the queen on Cintra.’
‘Bringing to the famous dynasty of Coram the gene that were following.’
‘Fiona,’ Enid an Gleanna said calmly, ‘was not a carrier of the Elder Blood gene. Which we have called the Lara gene.’
‘How is that?’
‘The carrier of the Lara gene was Amavet and our experiment continued. Because Anna Kameny, whose husband had killed her lover, still in mourning gave birth to twins. A boy and a girl. The father was undoubtedly Amavet, because the girl was a carrier of the gene. She was named Muriel.’
‘Muriel, the Rogue Beauty?’ Síle de Tansarville was amazed.
‘That was much later.’ Francesca smiled. ‘To begin with it was Muriel the Fair. Actually, she was a cute and sweet child. When she was fourteen there was talk about her as Muriel Velvet Eyes. More than one man had drowned in those eyes. Eventually she married Robert Earl of Garramone.’
‘And the boy?’
‘Crispin. He was not a carrier so we were not interested in him. I believe he died in a war, he only had weapons and fighting on his mind.’
‘Wait.’ Sabrina said with a rapid motion of her hair. ‘Muriel the Rogue Beauty’s daughter was Adalia called the Fay…’
‘That’s right.’ confirmed Francesca. ‘An interesting person, Adalia. A strong Source, perfect material for a sorceress. Unfortunately she did not want to be a sorceress. She preferred to be a queen.’
‘And the gene?’ asked Assire var Anahid. ‘She carried it?’
‘Interesting enough, no.’
‘So I thought.’ Assire nodded. ‘The Lara gene can only be transmitted continuously through the female line. If the carrier is male, the gene is lost after the second or third generation.’
‘But then activates again.’ Philippa Eilhart said. ‘Adalia, who was lacking the gene, was at the end of the day the mother of Calanthe and Calanthe was the grandmother of Ciri who is a carrier of the Lara gene.’
‘The first since Riannon.’ Síle de Tansarville spoke suddenly. ‘You made a mistake, Francesca. There are two genes. One, the right one, was latent and you overlooked it in Fiona, deceived by the clear and strong gene in Amavet. But the one in Amavet was not the gene, but the activator. Lady Assire is right. The activator is transferred through the male line and in the case of Adalia, manifested so little that you didn’t see it. Adalia was the first daughter of the Rogue, the following children almost certainly had no trace of the activator. The latent gene in
Fiona was probably in her male descendants up to the third generation. But it has not disappeared and I know why.’
‘Bloody hell.’ Yennefer hissed through her teeth.
‘I’m lost,’ said Sabrina Glevissig, ‘in the jungle of all this genetic genealogy.’
Francesca drew a platter of fruit closer to her, stretched out her hand and muttered a spell.
‘I apologize for this fairground show of telekinesis,’ she smiled, and ordered a red apple to rise from the table. ‘But with the help of this levitating fruit it will be easier for me to clarify everything. This red apple is the gene for Lara, the Elder Blood. The green apple represents the latent gene. The pomegranate is a pseudo gene, the activator. Let us begin. This is Riannon, the red apple. Her son, Amavet, the pomegranate. Amavet’s daughter, Muriel the Rogue Beauty and her daughter Adalia are pomegranates also, the last in the decline. And here is the second line with Fiona, Riannon’s daughter as the green apple. Her son, Corbett, king of Cintra, green. The son of Corbett and Elen of Kaedwen, Dagorad, green. Have you notice, in the two successive generations of males descendants only, the gene is lost, it is too weak. But now, there is a connection with the pomegranate and the green apple, Adalia, Princess of Maribor and Dagorad, king of Cintra. And the daughter of these two is Calanthe. A red apple. A resurgent of the strong Lara gene.’
‘The gene from Fiona,’ Margarita Laux-Antille nodded, ‘met with the activator of Amavet’s through marital incest. No one took notice of the kinship? None of the royal heralds and chroniclers paid any attention to the open incest?’
‘It was not so open. Anna Kameny did not broadcast that her twins were bastards, because her husband’s family would have then stripped her and the children of their coat of arms, titles and possessions. Of course various rumors stubbornly hovered around and not only among the commoners. Calanthe, tainted by incest, had to find a husband in far off Ebbing, where the rumors had not arrived.’
‘Add to your Pyramid, two red apples, Enid,’ said Margarita. ‘Now, according to the accurate observation of Lady Assire, the resurrected Lara gene goes smoothly through the female line.’
‘Yes. This is Pavetta, the daughter of Calanthe. And Pavetta’s daughter, Cirilla. The only one at this time who is heiress to the Elder Blood, the Lara gene carrier.’
‘The only one?’ Síle de Tansarville asked sharply. ‘You are very sure of yourself, Enid.’
‘What do you mean?’
Síle rose suddenly, extended her fingers covered with rings in the direction of the fruit platter and levitated the rest of the fruit, destroying and transforming Francesca’s whole scheme into a multi-colored mess.
‘This is what I mean,’ she said coldly, pointed to the chaos of the fruit. ‘For these are the possible genetic combinations. And we know only what we see here. That is, nothing. Your mistake has been avenged, Francesca, by producing an avalanche of mistakes. The gene appeared by chance, after a hundred years, during which events may have occurred, of which we have no knowledge. Events kept secret, hidden, covered up. Children of premarital, extramarital, secret adoption, even swapped. Incest. Crossbreeding, the blood of forgotten ancestors which then revives in later generations. To conclude: a hundred years ago you had the gene in your hand and it escaped you. Mistake, Enid, mistake, mistake! Too much spontaneity, too many accidents. Too little control, too little interference with chance.’
‘We were not,’ Enid an Gleanna, pursed her lips, ‘dealing with rabbits, which can be locked in a cage and their parks chosen for them.’
Fringilla, following the gaze of Triss Merigold, saw Yennefer’s hands clench suddenly the carved arms of her chair.
This is what now unites Yennefer and Francesca, Triss thought feverishly, still avoiding eye contact. The calculation. Because, what they did had something to do with parks and breeding rabbits. Yes, their plans for Ciri and Kovir’s king, although seemingly unlikely, are completely real. They have already done this. They place who they want on the thrones, they create links and dynasties as they wished, as it is more convenient for them. The used charms, potions and aphrodisiacs. The kings and queens enter into foreign marriages, often morganatic, against any plan, intentions and treaties. And then those who want children and should not are administered secret measures to prevent pregnancy. Those who did not want to have children, but it was necessary to do so are instead or the promised cured were given placebos, water with licorice. Hence, all these incredible connections. Calanthe, Pavetta... Ciri. Yennefer was involved in it. And now regrets it. And she is right. Heck, if Geralt finds out about it...
Sphinxes, thought Fringilla Vigo. Sphinxes carved into the arms of the seats. Yes, it should be the sign and emblem of the Lodge. Knowledge, secrecy, silence. They are sphinxes. They can easily reach what they want. It is a piece of cake to them, marry Kovir with Ciri. They have the power. They have the knowledge. They have the means. The diamond necklace on Sabrina Glevissig’s neck is perhaps worth almost as much as the entire balance of payments for the forested and rocky Kaedwen. Easily they can achieve what they plan. But here is one obstacle...
Aha, thought Triss Merigold, we finally begin to talk about what we started to. The sobering fact that Ciri is in Nilfgaard under Emhyr var Emreis’s power. Far from the plans that are being established here...
‘There is no question,’ said Philippa, ‘that Emhyr has hunted Cirilla for a long time. Everyone thought that it was for a political marriage with Cintra and the seizure of a fief, which is the legal legacy of the girl. But we cannot exclude the possibility that this was not about politics, but the Elder Blood gene, which Emhyr wants to introduce into the imperial line. If Emhyr knows that we want to fulfill the prophecy he may wish for the future Queen of the World to be born in Nilfgaard.’
‘A correction,’ Sabrina Glevissig interjected. ‘This is not what Emhyr wants, but Nilfgaard’s sorcerers. Only they could track down the gene and Emhyr has realized its importance. The present Nilfgaardian ladies here probably want to confirm and clarify their role in the plot.’
‘It amazes me,’ Fringilla said firmly, ‘the tendency of women to find intrigue in distant Nilfgaard, while the indicators suggest looking for conspirators and traitors closer to home.’
‘An observation as straightforward as it is accurate.’ Síle de Tansarville silenced Sabrina with a serious look, who was preparing to respond. ‘All the evidence suggests that the information about the Elder Blood leaked to Nilfgaard was by us, all the conditions show this. Have you forgotten about Vilgefortz, ladies?’
‘I have not.’ Sabrina’s eyes burned for a moment with the fire of hatred. ‘I have not forgotten!’
‘The time will come for him,’ Keira Metz teeth flashed ominously. ‘But for now, this is not about him, but about Ciri and the Elder Blood which is so important to us, who is held by Emhyr var Emreis, Emperor of Nilfgaard.’
‘The Emperor,’ Assire said quietly, looking at Fringilla, ‘has nothing in his hands. The girl being held in Rowan is not a carrier of any extraordinary gene. She is normal to commonplace. Beyond all doubt she is not Cirilla of Cintra. This is not the girl, whom the emperor sought. Those who carry the gene, have it available even in their hair. I examined her hairs and I found something I did not understand. Now I get it.’
‘So Ciri is not in Nilfgaard.’ Yennefer said quietly. ‘She is not there.’
‘She is not there.’ Philippa Eilhart confirmed seriously. ‘Emhyr was cheated, someone slipped him a doppelganger. I heard about this yesterday. However, I am glad Assire’s confession confirms this. It confirms that our Lodge is already operational.’
Yennefer had difficulties in mastering the tremors of her hands and lips. Keep calm she told herself, calm, she repeated, calm, do not expose yourself, an opportunity awaits you. Listen, listen and gather information. Sphinx. Be a Sphinx.
‘This means that the culprit is Vilgefortz.’ Sabrina banged her fist on the table. ‘Not Emhyr but Vilgefortz, trickster, elegant scoundrel. He tric
ked Emhyr and us!’
Yennefer took calming breaths. Assire var Anahid, who clearly felt uncomfortable in her tight dress, had just said something about a young nobleman from Nilfgaard. Yennefer knew who she meant and unconsciously clenched her fists. A black knight with wings on his helmet, the nightmare of Ciri’s ravings…
She felt the eyes of Francesca and Philippa on her. Triss, however, whose gaze she was trying to attract, avoided her eyes. Damn, thought Yennefer, with effort keeping an indifferent expression on her face. What damn snare entangles this girl? Damn, how can I look in the witcher’s eyes…
‘There will therefore be a great opportunity,’ Keira Metz cried excitedly ‘to regain Ciri and also rip the skin from Vilgefortz, then set fire to the floor under the rogue’s ass!’
‘Burning the ground will be preceded by discovering Vilgefortz hideout,’ Síle de Tansarville scoffed, who had never had much sympathy for Yennefer. ‘And so far none have succeeded. Even some of the ladies sitting at this table have spared their invaluable time and talents in the search.’
‘We have already found two of Vilgefortz many hiding places.’ Philippa Eilhart replied coolly. ‘Dijkstra is extensively looking for more and I would not spurn his efforts. Sometimes where magic fails turn to spies and informers for success.’