‘I need volunteers’ Yennefer said. ‘Only volunteers. No more than necessary to control a dragon boat for a short time. I do not know how many people this requires, I am not familiar with it. But I ask for not one more man than absolutely necessary on the ‘Alcyone'. And I repeat – only volunteers. What I plan is... very risky. Riskier than a sea-battle.’
‘I understand.’ The old seneschal nodded. ‘And I volunteer first. I, Guthlaf, son of Sven, ask for this honor, my lady.’
Yennefer looked long into his eyes. ‘Good,’ she said. ‘But I am the one who is honored.’
‘I also volunteered,’ said Asa Thjazi. ‘But Guthlaf would not allow it. Someone, he said, must stay behind to command the ‘Tamara’. Finally, fifteen had volunteered. Including Hjalmar, Earl.’
Crach an Craite raised his eyebrows.
‘How many do we need Guthlaf?’ Repeated the sorceress. ‘How many are essential? Please calculate this accurately.’
The steward was silent for a while, calculating.
‘We can get by with eight,’ he said. ‘If it is only for a short time... But we have many volunteers here, so we do not need to be so...’
‘Pick eight of these fifteen,’ she interrupted him sharply. ‘Do it yourself. And tell them that they are to go aboard the ‘Alcyone’. Everyone else will remain on the ‘Tamara’. Oh yes, and I will pick one that remains. Hjalmar!’
‘No, lady! You cannot do this to me! I volunteered and I will stand by your side! I want to...’
‘Shut up! You will stay on the ‘Tamara’! That's an order! One more word and I'll have you tied to the mast!’
‘Continue, Asa.’
‘The sorceress, Guthlaf, and those eight volunteers went aboard the ‘Alcyone' and went to the Depth. We stayed behind in the ‘Tamara' as ordered, but the distance was not too great. However, the weather, which we had hitherto been favorable, suddenly became something devilish. Yes, devilish is the right word for it, because there was an evil force at work, Earl... may you careen me if I lie...’
‘Continue.’
‘Where the ‘Tamara’ was, it was quiet. Although the wind began to act a little mischievous so that clouds moved over the sky until the day was almost as dark as night. But where the ‘Alcyone’ was, all hell broke loose. Pure hell...’
The sails of the ‘Alcyone’ suddenly began to beat so violently that they could be heard from the ‘Tamara’, despite the distance between the two ships. The sky was black and the clouds had clustered together. The sea, which appeared totally calm near the ‘Tamara’, swelled up and threw breakers over the side of the ‘Alcyone’. Suddenly someone cried out, then someone else joined in, and immediately after everyone was shouting.
Under a black cloud with a tapering cone, the ‘Alcyone’ danced on the waves like a cork – turning, whirling, jumping, and diving quickly into the waves with its bow, or sometimes its stern. There were moments when the dragon boat was almost completely hidden from sight. There were moments when the only thing that could be seen was the striped sail.
‘It's magic!’ Someone shouted behind Asa's back. ‘It's the devil's magic!’
The vortex left the ‘Alcyone’ spinning faster and faster. The shields on the dragon boat's sidewalls were torn off from by centrifugal force and whizzed through the air like discuses, shooting to the left and right of the broken rudder.
‘Reef the sails,’ cried Asa Thjazi. ‘Man the helm! We're moving! We need to help!’
But it was too late.
The black sky above the ‘Alcyone’ suddenly exploded with jagged lightning, clasping the ship like the tentacles of a jellyfish. The fantastic shapes of the aggregated clouds twisted into a monstrous funnel. The dragon boat spun around with uncanny speed. The mast broke like a matchstick and the torn sails hovered over the breakers like a giant albatross.
‘Row, men!’
He could barely hear his own roar over the roar of the elements, but they all heard the cry of the people on the ‘Alcyone’. It was such an eerie scream that it made their hair stand on end. Them... ancient mariners, bloody zealots, and sailors who had seen and heard so much.
They let go of the oars, aware of their powerlessness. They were stunned, they even stopped shouting.
Still turning, the ‘Alcyone’ rose slowly over the waves. It rose higher and higher. They saw the keel dripping water, covered with barnacles and seaweed. Then they saw a black shape, a silhouette falling into the waves. Then another. And then a third.
‘They’re jumping,’ cried Asa Thjazi. ‘Row, men, do not fade! Row like there's no tomorrow! We ride to the rescue!’
The ‘Alcyone’ was already a hundred yards above the ocean’s surface, where the water was bubbling as if it were boiling. She still whirled around – a huge, dripping spindle, embraced by fiery flashes of forked lightening and pulled by an invisible force into the aggregated clouds.
Suddenly, a deafening explosion ripped the air. Although she was driven by fifteen pairs of oars, the ‘Tamara’ suddenly jumped up and was flung backwards like a battering ram. Asa Thjazi felt the deck shift beneath his feet. He fell, hitting his temple on the railing.
He could not even stand up, he had to be lifted. He was stunned. He turned and shook his head, stammering incoherently. He heard the shouts of the crew from afar. He stumbled to the side, swaying like a drunk, and clutched the railing.
The wind had died down and the waves had calmed. But the sky was still full of aggregated black clouds.
There was no trace was no trace of the ‘Alcyone’ to be seen.
‘There was no trace to be seen, Earl. Well, bits of the rigging, some scraps... Nothing more.’
Asa Thjazi broke off the story and watched the sun as it sank behind the wooded peaks of Spikeroog. Crach an Craite, lost in thought, did not urge him on.
‘You never know,’ Asa Thjazi continued at last, ‘how many were able to jump off the ‘Alcyone’ before that vicious cloud passed. But no matter how many jumped, no one survived. And although we spared both time and effort, we were only able to recover two bodies. Two bodies that floated in the water. Only two.’
‘The sorceress,’ the Earl said in a changed voice, ‘was not among them?’
‘No.’
Crach an Craite was silent for a long time. The sun disappeared behind Spikeroog.
‘Old Guthlaf, son of Sven, is gone,’ Asa Thjazi continued. ‘Most likely the crabs at the bottom of Sedna-Depth have already gnawed him to the last bone... The sorceress disappeared altogether... Earl, people have started to talk... That it was all their fault. And that the punishment fit the crime...’
‘Fools talk!’
‘She disappeared,’ muttered Asa ‘in the Sedna-Depth. At the same place as Pavetta and Duny... What a coincidence...’
‘That is no coincidence,’ said Crach an Craite firmly. ‘Neither this time nor the time before were coincidences.’
CHAPTER TEN
It is essential that the unfortunate suffer. His pain and humiliation resulting from the laws of nature, which require suffering as well him who his suffering is caused by. This truth must override any remorse in the soul of a tyrant or villain. He does not have to restrain, he must commit boldly all the acts that are born of his imagination, because it is the voice of nature that suggests it to him.
It is the secret inspiration of nature that leads us to evil, then evil is apparently naturally essential.
Donatien Alphonse Francois de Sade
The sound of a door creaking open and then closing woke the youngest of the Scarra sisters from slumber. The eldest of the sisters sat at the table and was busy scraping porridge from the bottom of a tin bowl.
‘How did it go in court, Kenna?’
Joanna Selbourne, call Kenna, said nothing. She sat on the bed, elbows on knees and her forehead in her hands.
The young Scarra yawned, and belched loudly. On the opposite bed, Kohout vaguely muttered something and turned away. He was angry at Kenna, with the sisters and
the whole world.
In ordinary prisons, prisoners were still traditionally divided by gender. The military fortresses were different. The Emperor Fergus var Emreis, in a decree confirming the equal rights of women in the imperial army, ordered that if emancipated, for emancipation, equality should be the same everywhere and in every respect, without exception, or special privileged for any of the sexes. Since that time, in the fortresses and citadels, prisoners served their sentences in coeducational cells.
‘So what?’ the elder Scarra reiterated her earlier question. ‘Will they release you?’
‘Justice,’ said Kenna bitterly with her head still in her hands. ‘I’ll be lucky if I’m not hanged. Damn! I testified the whole truth and hid nothing, well, almost nothing. And that bastard started making me look insane, he announced that I was an unreliable person and a criminal element, and in the end accused me of involvement in the conspiracy, which aimed to overthrow…’
‘Overthrow,’ said the older Scarra, pretending to understand her, shook her head. ‘If it is about the overthrow, you’re fucked, Kenna.’
‘As if I didn’t know.’
Scarra the Younger stretched and yawned again, widely and loudly like a leopard and jumped off the top bunk, energetically kicked a stool obstructing her way, and spat on the floor beside the stool. Kohout grunted, but did not dare more.
Kohout was deadly angry with Kenna. But he was afraid of the sisters.
When Kenna was three days ago assigned to this cell, it quickly became apparent that Kohout had his own opinions about the emancipation and equality of women. In the middle of the night he threw a blanket over the top of Kenna’s body with the intention of using the lower part, which surely would have succeeded had it not been for the fact that he had found a psionic. Kenna got into his brain in such a way that Kohout howled like a werewolf and crawled around the cell like he had been bitten by a tarantula. Kenna, out of pure revenge, telepathically forced him to get on all fours and hit his head on the metal door of the cell. When alarmed by the terrible noise, the guards opened the door and gave Kohout a beating, receiving five blows from a club and as many kicks. In summary, Kohout did not get the night of pleasure he was expecting. And he became angry with Kenna. He did not even dare think of revenge, because the next day they were put in a cell with the Scarra sisters. So the fair sex was the majority and to top it off, it soon became clear that the view of the sisters on gender were close to Kohout’s, except the exact opposite when it came to the roles assigned to genders. Scarra the Younger looked with a predatory look into his eyes and utter clear, unmistakable comments, the older sister just laughed and rubbed her hands together happily. The result was that Kohout slept with a wooden stool, which, if necessary he would use to defend his honor. In the case of an actual threat his chances were slim – the two sisters had servers in the regular army and were veterans of many battles. They would not surrender to a stood if they wanted to rape and violate him, even if the man was armed with an axe. Kenna was certain that the sisters were only joking. Well, almost certain.
The Scarra sisters were in jail for having beaten an officer, while in Kohout’s case he was in pending an investigation related to a scam for stealing the spoils of war that was already famous and reaching higher circles.
‘You’re fucked, Kenna,’ the old Scarra repeated. ‘You’re stuck in deep shit. Or rather you have been dipped. Because you don’t realize this is a political game!’
‘Bah!’
Scarra looked at her, not really knowing how to read the monosyllabic statement. Kenna looked away.
I’m not going to tell you that I was silent before the judges, she thought. That I knew what game I was getting entangled in. Neither of when or how I learned.
‘You bit off more than you could swallow,’ the significantly younger Scarra said wisely, who according to Kenna had no idea what was going on here.
‘What happened with the princess of Cintra?’ the older Scarra did not give up. ‘You caught her, right?’
‘Caught. If you can say that… What’s the date today?’
‘Twenty-second of September. Tomorrow is the equinox.’
‘Ha. What a coincidence. Tomorrow it will be exactly one year since those events… a year…’
Kenna lay on the bed, hands clasped behind her neck. The sisters were silent, hoping that this was an introduction to a story.
Not at all, sisters, Kenna thought, looking at the filth written and drawn on the boards of the bunk above her. There will be no story. And not because Kohout would sell me out to the fucking cops or another witness for the crown. I just do not want to talk about it. I don’t want to remember.
What happened a year ago… after Bonhart escaped us in Claremont.
We arrived there two days too late, she remembered, and the trail had already cooled. Nobody knew where the bounty hunter had gone. No one except the merchant Houvenaghel, I mean. But Houvenaghel would not talk to us or Skellen and would not even let us enter his house and sent a servant that told us he did not have time to grant an audience. The Owl sulked and bridled, but what could I do? It was Ebbing and I had no jurisdiction. And otherwise – on our own – we could not go after Houvenaghel, because he had a private army in Claremont and we could not start a war…
Boreas Mun tracked, Dacre Silifant and Ola Harsheim attempted to bribe, Til Echrade tried elven magic and I perceived thoughts and listened, but this did not amount to much. We learned that Bonhart had left town by the south gate. And that before he left…
In the marketplace near the south gate there was a small shrine. Before leaving Claremont, Bonhart had Falka whipped in front of the shrine. In front of everyone, including the eyes of the priests of the shrine. He shouted that he would show her who was her lord and master. That he could whip her where he wanted, and if he wanted he could beat her to death, because no one would take part in it, no one would help her, neither men nor gods.
Scarra the Younger looked out the window, clinging to the bars. The older ate porridge from her bowl. Kohout retrieved his stood, lay down and covered himself with a blanket.
They heard the bell from the guardhouse and the cries from the sentries on the walls…
Kenna turned to face the wall.
A few days later we met, she thought. Me and Bonhart. Face to face. I looked into his inhuman fish eyes, that were only thinking about one thing – how to beat this girl. And I took one look at his thoughts… Just for a moment. And it was like sticking my head into an open grave…
This happened on the equinox.
And on the eve of the twenty-second of September, I realized that between us was something invisible.
Stefan Skellen, the Imperial Coroner listened without interrupting. But Kenna saw how his face changed.
‘Repeat, Selbourne,’ he drawled. ‘Repeat, I do not believe my ears.’
‘Careful, Mister Coroner,’ she murmured. ‘Pretend anger… As if I came up with a request and you are rejected it. On the surface, that is. I am not mistaken, I’m sure. For at least the last two days circling around us is an invisible spy.’
The Owl had to admit that he was understanding and immediately get his bearings.
‘No, Selbourne, I refuse,’ he said aloud, but avoided exaggerated acting with both his tone and gestures. ‘Discipline applies to all. There are no exceptions. I do not agree!’
‘Hear me out, Mister Coroner,’ said Kenna. She had no such acting talent like the Owl, but in this case the uncertainty and self-consciousness of the applicant worked quite reliably. ‘At least here me out…’
‘Speak, Selbourne! But short and concise!’
‘They have been spying on us for two days,’ she murmured, pretending to humbly explain her reasons. ‘From Claremont. It has secretly been following us, and comes into our camp and moves between people spying.’
‘Listen, fucking spy,’ Skellen did not have to fake the anger or severity in his voice which trembled with rage. ‘How did you find out?’
/> ‘When you were giving orders to Mister Silifant yesterday night before the inn, a cat as she slept on a bench, suddenly hissed, bristled her coat and lay her ears flat. I did not suspect, because there was no one in there… Then I caught something – A strange thought, someone else’s will. When you think, the thoughts are familiar, ordinary, but this strange thought, Mister Coroner, was if someone had shouted loudly… I began to listen attentively, and found him.’
‘Can you always feel him?’
‘Not always. It has some magical protection. I can only feel it at close range, and even then not every time. Therefore, we must keep up appearances, since I don’t know if he is hiding nearby.’
‘Just do not startle him,’ growled the Owl. ‘Just do not startle him. I want him alive, Selbourne. What do you suggest?’
‘We are going to make pancakes.’
‘Pancakes?’
‘Lower your voice, Mister Coroner.’
‘But… Ah, never mind. Agreed. I leave you with a free hand.’
‘Tomorrow we will arrange for us to stay overnight at a village. I’ll take care of the others. And now, mock rebuke me before I go.’
‘I will not rebuke you,’ he winked conspiratorially at her, but then his face became the expression of a strict commander. ‘I am satisfied with you, Lady Selbourne.’
He said Lady. Lady Selbourne. Like an officer. He winked again.
‘No!’ he said, waving his hand, playing his role brilliantly. ‘Request rejected! Be gone!’
‘As you command, Mister Coroner.’
The next day, late in the afternoon, Skellen ordered them to stop in a village on the River Lete. The village was rich, surrounded by a palisade; it was entered by a heavy door revolving on an axis. The village was called Unicorn. And it took the name from a small stone chapel where there was a straw doll representing a unicorn.