But yes, they can use the Power if they want to, sometimes no worse than we sorceresses. It is still a mystery how they do it. No preparation, no training, no studies... Only prayer and meditation. Divination? A kind of self-hypnosis? That's what Tissaia de Vries claimed... They unconsciously enter a trance and gain energy and the ability to manipulate it, much like we do with our spells. They convert that energy and see this as a gift and the grace of God. That belief gives them strength.
Why are we sorceresses never successful in the same way?
Should I try it? Make use of the atmosphere and the aura of this place? I might even be put in a trance... I needed only to look at that diamond... the Brisingamen... To concentrate on how brilliantly it would play its part in my megascope...
Brisingamen... It sparkles like the morning star, there in the dark, the smoke of incense and smoky candles...
‘Yennefer.’
She lifted her head suddenly.
It was dark in the temple. It smelled strongly of smoke.
‘Did I fall asleep? Forgive me...’
‘There is nothing to forgive. Come with me.’
Outside, the sky flashed with flickering lights that were changing like a kaleidoscope. Northern Lights? Yennefer rubbed her eyes in surprise. Aurora Borealis? In August?
‘How much will you sacrifice Yennefer?’
‘What?’
‘Are you willing to sacrifice yourself? Your priceless magic?’
‘Sigrdrifa,’ she said angrily. ‘Do not try these hackneyed tricks with me. I'm ninety-four years old. But please, do not treat that as a confession. I trust you just to let you know that you cannot treat me like a child.’
‘You have not answered my question.’
‘And I will not. Because I do not agree with this mysticism. I fell asleep at your service. I got bored. Because I do not believe in your goddess.’
Sigrdrifa turned around, and Yennefer involuntarily took a very deep breath.
‘Your disbelief is not too flattering for me’, said the woman, whose eyes were full of liquid gold. ‘But does your disbelief do anything?’
The only action Yennefer could take was to exhale.
‘A time will come,’ said the golden-eyed woman, ‘when no one, absolutely no one except children will believe in witches. I say this to be deliberately malicious. As revenge. Let's go.’
‘No...’ Yennefer was finally able to break through the passive inhalation and exhalation. ‘No! I will not go anywhere. Enough! This is an enchantment or hypnosis. An illusion! A trance! I have trained defense mechanisms... I can let everything be scattered with only a saying, oh yes! Damn...’
The golden-eyed woman approached. The diamond on her necklace flared like the morning star.
‘Your language gradually ceases to serve mutual understanding,’ she said. ‘It is art for art's sake, all the more incomprehensible, the deeper and wiser you try to be. Really, you would do better to say nothing but ‘ah-ah’ and ‘gu-gu’. Come on.’
‘It's an illusion, a trance... I will not go anywhere!’
‘I will not force you. That would be shameful. You're an intelligent, proud girl. Have character.’
A plain. A sea of grass. Heath. A rock that rises from the heather like the back of a lurking predator.
‘You have asked for my jewel, Yennefer. I cannot give it to you, not without making sure of certain things beforehand. I want to see what's inside you. That's why I brought you here, to this place, which has been a place of knowledge and power from time immemorial. Your priceless magic is supposed to be everywhere. All you have to do is reach out for it. Are you afraid to stretch for it?’
Yennefer could not bring any sound out of her constricted throat.
‘The power to change the world cannot be named,’ said the woman, ‘Yet you recognize chaos, art, and science? Curses, blessings, and progress? But coincidentally not faith? Love? Sacrifice?
Are you listening? The rooster Kambi crows. The wave hits the shore, the bow wave of Naglfar. Hemdall will sound his horn on the rainbow Bifrost for those who would face the enemy. It is the white cold, the storm winds, and blowing snow... The ground shakes from the violent movements of the snake...
The wolf swallows the sun. The moon is black. There is only cold and darkness. Hatred, revenge, and blood...
Whose side will you choose, Yennefer? Will you be at the eastern or the western edge of Bifrost? Will you be with Hemdall or against him?
The rooster Kambi crows.
Make up your mind Yennefer. Make your choice. For one once gave you life so that you could make your choice at the right moment.
Light or dark?’
‘Good and evil, light and dark, order and chaos? These are just symbols, but in reality there is no such polarity! Light and darkness are in each, a little of this and a little of that. This conversation is pointless. Pointless. I'm not going to convert to mysticism. For you or for the wolf that devours the sun, Sigrdrifa. For me, this is an eclipse. And so it should remain.’
‘Remain? How?’
She felt the earth slip away under her feet, felt the monstrous force twist her arms and break the joints in her shoulders and elbows, felt the vortex as the Strappado-Torture stretched. She screamed in pain, writhing, opening her eyes. No, this was no dream. This could be no dream. She was on a tree, hanging crucified on the branches of a huge ash tree. Above her, high up, a hawk circled, and on the ground in the darkness she heard a hissing snake, the rustle of her rubbing against other joints.
Something moved beside her. Next to her arm was a stretched and anguished squirrel.
‘Are you ready now?’ Asked the squirrel. ‘Are you willing to sacrifice? What are you willing to sacrifice?’
‘I have nothing!’ The pain blinded and paralyzed her. ‘And even if I had anything I do not believe in the meaning of such sacrifice! I do not want to suffer for millions! I do not want to suffer at all! For anybody!’
‘No one wants to suffer. But that is the fate of each. And some suffer more. Not necessarily of their own volition. It's not about to enduring the suffering. It's about how you endure it.’
Jana! Janchen!
Take this hunchbacked monster away from me! I do not want to see it!
This is your daughter, just like mine.
Really? The children I have fathered are normal.
How dare you insinuate... to...
There were sorceresses in your elven family. You aborted your first pregnancy. It follows that your elf blood and womb are spoiled, woman. Why do you bring this monster into the world?
This unfortunate child... This was the will of the gods! This is your daughter, just like mine! What should I do? Strangle her? Tie off the umbilical cord? What do want from me? To go into the forest and leave her there? What do you want from me, by the gods?
Dad! Mama!
Go away, you monster.
How dare you? How dare you to hit the child? Stop? Where are you going? Where? To her, yes? To her!
Indeed, woman. I am a man, I can appease my desire where I want, when I want. This is my birthright. And you make me sick. You and the fruit of your correspondingly degenerate belly . Do not wait for dinner. I will not come back tonight.
Mama...
Why are you crying?
Why did you hit me and push me away? I was good...
Mama! Dear Mama!
‘Are you able to forgive?’
‘I have long since forgiven.’
‘After you avenged only too well.’
‘Yes.’
‘Are you sorry?’
‘No.’
Pain, terrible pain that ate away her hands and fingers.
‘Yes, I'm guilty! Did you hear that? Confession and repentance? Did you hear how Yennefer of Vengerberg repented and humbled herself? No, I do not do this favor for you. I confess my sins and I expect the punishment. But I will not beg you for mercy!’
The pain reached the limits of what can a person could endure.
/>
‘You reminded me of the betrayed, the duped, the exploited, you reminded me of he who died by his own hand, by my hand... The fact that I once laid hands on myself? I obviously had reasons! And I have no regrets! And even if I could turn back time... I have no regrets.’
The hawk perched on her shoulder. The Tower of the Swallow. The Tower of the Swallow. Hasten to the Tower of the Swallow. Daughter.
***
The rooster Kambi crows.
Ciri on a black mare, her gray hair blowing in the gallop. Blood flows and gushes from her face, a bright, vivid red. The black mare rises like a bird glides smoothly over the beams of the arch. Ciri sways in the saddle, but does not fall...
Ciri in the middle of the night, amidst a wilderness of rock and sand, with raised hands, from her hands shoots out a glowing sphere... A unicorn, pawing in the gravel with his hoof... Many unicorns... Fire... Fire...
Geralt on a bridge. In a fight. In a fire. The flames reflected on his sword blade.
Fringilla Vigo, her green eyes wide open with lust, her dark, close-cropped head on an open book, on the frontispiece... You can see a fragment of the title: Reflections on the Inevitable Death of...
Geralt's eyes reflected in the eyes of Fringilla.
An abyss. Smoke. A flight of stairs that leads down. A flight of stairs that you have to take. Something ends. Tedd Deireádh comes, the time of the end...
Darkness. Moisture. Intensely cold stone walls. The coldness of the iron on the wrists, the ankles. The pain that pulsates in tortured hands, tears at bruised fingers...
Ciri holds her hand. A long, dark corridor, stone columns, statues perhaps... Darkness. A whisper as quiet as the whisper of the wind.
Doors. An infinite number of doors with huge, heavy wings open silently in front of them. And in the end, in the impenetrable darkness, a door that does not open automatically. You may not open it.
If you are afraid, turn back.
That door mustn’t be opened. You know that.
I do.
But you're still leading me there. If you are afraid, turn back. You still have time to turn back. It's still not too late.
And you?
For me it is too late.
The rooster Kambi crows.
Tedd Deireádh has come.
The Aurora Borealis.
Light.
‘Yennefer. Wake up.’
She threw up her head. She looked at her hands. She had both. Salvation.
‘Sigrdrifa? I fell asleep...’
‘Come’
‘Where?’ She whispered. ‘Where to this time?’
‘What? I do not understand. You have to see. Something has happened... Something strange. None of us knows why or how this can be explained. But I can guess. The grace... You may have fallen to the grace of the goddess, Yennefer.’
‘What are you talking about, Sigrdrifa?’
‘Look.’
She looked up. And sighed loudly.
Brisingamen, the sacred jewel of Modron Freya no longer hung on the neck of the goddess. It lay at her feet.
‘Do I hear you right?’ Crach an Craite asked again. ‘You are going to establish your magical workshop on Hindarsfjall? The priestesses gave the sacred diamond to you? You can use it in your infernal machine?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, well, Yennefer, have you converted then? What happened there on the island?’
‘It doesn't matter. I'm returning to the temple, and that's final.’
‘And the financial resources for which you have asked? Will they still be needed?’
‘Probably, yes.’
‘Seneschal Guthlaf will fulfill your every relevant arrangement. But, Yennefer, give these orders quickly. Hurry. I have received new messages.’
‘Damn, I was afraid of that. Do they know where I am?’
‘No, they do not know yet. But I have been warned that you could show up on the Skellige Islands and was told to jail you immediately if you do. I am also supposed to take war prisoners and extort information from them, any crumb of information that concerns you. Or your stay in Nilfgaard and the provinces. Yennefer, hurry. If they track you down and find you here in Skellige, I would find myself in somewhat of a difficult situation.’
‘I am doing everything in my power to hurry. Also, to make sure that you will not be compromised. Do not worry.’
Crach bared his teeth. ‘I said, ‘somewhat’. I'm not afraid of them. Neither the kings nor the magicians. They cannot hurt me, because they need me. And the assistance I have provided to you has been committed under my oath of allegiance. Yes, yes, you heard right. Formally, I’m still a vassal of the crown of Cintra. Cirilla and has a formal claim to that crown. As the representative of Cirilla, as her only guardian, you have a formal right to order me and to demand obedience and service.’
‘Casuistic quibble.’
‘Sure.’ He laughed. ‘I myself will call it such loudly, if after all it turns out that Emhyr var Emreis has forced the girl to marry him. Even if Ciri is ruled out by any legal maneuverings of the throne and someone else takes her place, such as that idiot Vissegerd. Then I will immediately renounce my oath of obedience and fealty.’
‘What if’ – Yennefer narrowed her eyes -’it turns out that despite everything Ciri is dead?’
‘She's alive,’ said Crach firmly. ‘I know she is safe.’
‘How?’
‘You would not believe me.’
‘Try me.’
‘The blood of the queens of Cintra,’ began Crach in a thoughtful tone, ‘is strangely connected with the sea. If a woman of this blood dies, the sea falls into true madness. It is said that Ard Skellig mourns Riannon's daughters. Because the storms are so strong that the west waves permeate the island, waves attacking cracks and caves until they suddenly seep from the rock salt rivulets on the east side. And the whole island shakes. The common people say ‘Ard Skellig sobs. Again someone has died. The blood of Riannon has died. The elder blood’.’
Yennefer was silent.
‘This is no fairy tale,’ continued Crach. ‘I’ve seen it myself, with my own eyes. Three times. After the death of Adalia the Seer, after the death of Calanthe... And after the death Pavetta, the mother of Ciri.’
‘Pavetta’ remarked Yennefer, ‘was killed during a storm, so one can hardly say that...’
‘Pavetta’ interrupted Crach, still thoughtfully, ‘was not killed during a storm. The assault began after her death. The sea, as usual, responded to the death of someone of Cintran blood. I have examined this matter for a sufficiently long time. And I am certain.’
‘How are you so certain?’
‘The ship that carried Pavetta and Duny disappeared over the Sedna-Depth. Theirs was not the first ship to have disappeared there. Surely you know about this.’
‘A fairy tale. Ships suffer disasters, which is a pretty natural thing...’
‘On the Skellige Islands,’ he interrupted sharply and continued, ‘we know enough of ships and seafaring to distinguish between natural and unnatural disasters. Ships go under above the Sedna-Depth unnaturally. And it is no coincidence. This also applies to the ship that Pavetta and Duny were travelling on.
‘I do not want to argue’, the sorceress sighed. ‘What does it even matter? After nearly fifteen years?’
‘For me, it plays a...’ The Earl pressed his lips together. ‘I'll clarify this matter. It is only a matter of time. I know I'll... Declarations will be found. I'm going to find explanations for all the mysteries. Including the time of the massacre of Cintra...’
‘What's that again about a mystery?’
‘When the Nilfgaardians stormed Cintra,’ he murmured as he looked out the window, ‘Calanthe gave orders to secretly evacuate the girl from the city. The city was burning, but already the blacks were everywhere, the chances of breaking out of the siege were negligible. The Queen had been advised of the risk. Her advisors suggested Ciri might formally surrender to the Nilfgaardian army leaders and t
hus save her life and the Cintran line of royalty. In the burning streets, she would inevitably and futilely die at the hands of the mobs of soldiers. But the lioness... Do you know what she is supposed to have said, according to witnesses?’
‘No.’
‘‘Better that the blood of the girl flows on the pavement of Cintra than it be desecrated.’ How would it be desecrated?’
‘Through her marriage to Emperor Emhyr. The infamous Nilfgaardian. Earl, it's late. I start at dawn tomorrow morning... I will keep you informed and up to date on the progress made.’
‘I count on it. Good night, Yenna... Hmmm...’
‘What, Crach?’
‘I was wondering if you would like to, well...hmmm...as lust would have it...’
‘No, Earl. The past is the past and was not written into the register. Good night.’
‘Well, well.’ Crach an Craite glanced at his visitor, his head tilted to one side. ‘Triss Merigold in person. What an exceptionally pretty dress. And the lining... That’s chinchilla is it not? I would ask, what leads you to the Skellige... If I did not already know. But I do know.’
‘Very good.’ Triss smiled seductively, flipping her beautiful auburn hair. ‘Very well, you know, Earl. That saves us the introduction and the introductory statements, so we can immediately get down to business.’
‘For what purpose?’ Crach folded his arms across his chest and measured the sorceress with a cold stare. ‘What statements do you reckon we should we start with? Who do you represent, Triss? In whose name are you here? King Foltest granted you employment as a reward for your services with a curse. But now he has driven you out of Temeria, even though you're guilty of nothing. So I've heard Philippa Eilhart has taken you under her wing. Philippa, who is currently working with Dijkstra and the de facto government of Redania. I see that you are thanking her for her asylum as well as possible. You don’t even hesitate to take on the role of a spy who is to track down her former friend.’
‘You insult me, Earl.’
‘I humbly ask for forgiveness. If I have erred. Was I wrong?’