Author's Note - This story is a sequel to "The Last Manticore" If you haven't read it yet, please do. As this story progresses, you will understand some things a little better.
Thank you Spike368 for allowing Kerrass to cameo in this story. He's a wonderfully complex witcher and I am enjoying his style greatly.
Thank you The Joeker for edits. They are much appreciated!
As always - please leave a review and let me know how you enjoyed the chapter!
August 30th, 1272
Novigrad was a fine city, boasting a population that the last census claimed to top thirty thousand men, women, children and assorted others. Kerrass walked his horse through the streets, uneasily noting the burned bodies tied to charred stakes at regular intervals along the main thoroughfare. The acrid odor of cooked human and humanoid flesh clogged out all other smells in a sickly-sweet fog that played amongst the breeze that blew in from harborside. The lean Cat witcher hadn't been to the Redanian Free City since last Yule, when Novigrad had been a much less grim and noisome place. The beginning of September was early to settle into his customary wintering hole, but a contract had led him here and Kerrass figured he might as well drop in to see Karadin and his family while he was in the neighborhood, even if he did decide to ferret out a few more jobs before the snows started.
After leaving his horse at a livery stable not far from the merchant district, the lean Cat strolled to Hierarch Square, intent on hitting up the open air market to find suitable gifts to please Jad's two youngsters. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but he liked it when they called him Uncle Kerr, so he always went out of his way to find baubles and toys that might please them when he was in town. The rangy witcher's sense of unease climbed a notch as he moved along with the steady flow of sullen city dwellers into the area. Four prominent pyres were being prepared with fresh wood, directed by a witch hunter that boasted a fresh and ugly wound stitched down his cheek. Someone had sliced his face open with the precision of a master swordsman.
Against his better judgment, Kerrass tucked himself into the burgeoning crowd gathering around to watch who would be set alight today. He didn't have to wait long to find out. The rhythmic sound of marching feet filled the air as witch hunters streamed in from the North of the square, dragging a jail cart filled with the four unfortunate souls. Seldom in his life had Kerrass employed as much self-discipline as he did in the instant he recognized two senior servants of Jad's household and the young boys that were imprisoned with them. The butler, an old, rheumy man was whipped across the face as he stumbled out of the paddy wagon, then roughly dragged up to the right middle stake and tied securely. Next came his wife, the cook, who looked like she had been ravaged recently. After them came one of the pot boys alongside a young lad who cared for Karadin's horses. The witch hunter with the stitched face stood tall atop a large box, unrolling a scroll and reading the charges in a loud, commanding voice that had the crowd settling into anticipatory silence.
"Be it hereby known, upon the authority of Hiarch Cyril Englebert Hemmelfart, that the following four individuals were found colluding with foul spirits, cavorting with demons and engaging in unnatural congress during orgies with the witcher Jad Karadin and his wife, blaspheming the flame in the most unholy of ways." Hisses and cat calls issued from the mob, vibrating with hatred at the words.
"Is' not true!" Screamed the cook, sobbing out of a bloodied mouth. "We's good, honest folk!"
"Shaddup ye foul witch!" Screamed someone from the crowd, throwing a stone which bounced off the battered woman's shoulder.
The man with the parchment bellowed like a bull. "Shut it you lot! Silence!" The witch hunters ranged around the pyres shifted, drew their weapons, pushing against the crowd with deadly menace. The rabble subsided into a low roar of mutters.
"Be it known that as a consequence of their foul deeds, these four have been sentenced to the cleansing power of the flame. Should they be innocent of all charges, they will pass through the fire unscathed!" With his final proclamation, the witch hunter jumped from the box and brandished a flaming torch handed off by one of his lackeys, making a show of striding between the middle pyres and lighting them. He then backed away and handed the torch off to another subordinate.
Kerrass edged out of the cheering mob with the screams of the four servants ringing through his head. It was an effort to maintain his casual, loose jointed gait as he moved quickly toward the Karadin's townhouse. The estate was a hive of activity as men moved in and out, removing furnishings, clothing and art as a scribe made note of every possession. The witcher didn't stop, just kept his head down and observed the goings on as he walked by. Turning the corner into an alleyway, he grasped the edge of a wall and bent double. Jad, Letitia, the little ones; where were they? Kerrass took deep, cleansing breaths, tamping down on the urge to vomit while he pressed his face into the rough stones. Slight, scraping footfalls shuffling through city grit, warned him in time to pull himself together as a waif skittered around the corner, running toward him.
He didn't recognize her as part of Karadin's household, but the little girl rushed right up to him and pushed a piece of folded paper at his belly before dashing away down the alley. He inspected the missive, written on common, low quality parchment. A graphite stub had been used to scrawl a message for him.
'Ask for Tattie at the Passiflora' was all it said.
Scowling at the words, the lean witcher struggled briefly with the idea of tracking down the child who had given him the note or following its instruction. He crushed the note in his fist and strode away toward the famous brothel, somehow thinking any investigation by him in this neighborhood would bring down the witch hunters on innocent people.
Kerrass had regained his equilibrium by the time he entered the scented portal of the three story bordello, allowing a khole eyed woman to pass him a glass of wine as she trailed practiced fingers across his shoulders.
"Mmmmmm another witcher. We've been so fortunate this summer to have many of your kind on our doorstep." Her grin was sultry, full of carnal promise as her soft, delicate hands grazed the exposed skin at his throat. She would have, under better circumstances, snared his eager attention.
"I'm here to see Tattie." He murmured, keeping his eyes hooded as he looked down into the whore's upturned face. "Don't suppose you can arrange for me to have her in a private room, hmm?"
The girl's eyes turned hard even as her mouth formed a bitter mou. Then like smoke, her expression shifted and once again became seductive. "She does the laundry!" Her laughter tinkled like breaking glass around him. "What do you want with a washer girl when you can have me? I assure you, Stacia can satisfy your needs, even those you didn't know you had." Those delicate hands wound around his neck and she plastered herself to him, nuzzling in to lick his throat, eliciting an intense response of pure male lust. He wasn't here for sex, but Kerrass wouldn't let on and played the game consummately.
"My sweet lady Stacia, I want a private room and Tattie." He gently caressed her chin between his thumb and forefinger, dropping the timber of his voice an octave and purred down at her, "I promise if you can deliver that, you can have me for the rest of the night when she's done." He shifted subtly, grinding his hips into her as his glittering gaze raked over her body, coming to rest on the doxy's exposed cleavage, then wandering back up to capture her pretty blue eyes. His grin was feral as he added in a rumble of earthy promise, "There's plenty of me to go around."
Stacia licked her lips and nodded, slipping from his grasp and beckoning him to follow her up the stairs, bidding him enter the room she unlocked as she went in search of the laundress. Kerrass stood at the window overlooking the back of the brothel's property, his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face. The door opened behind him and he turned to see a fresh faced lass nervously enter the room, swearing when he recognized Tolly and Greta Karadin's nursemaid, Teensie Marple.
"What the hell are you doing here?" He barked, glaring at her as his hand balled into a fist at his side.
"Oh, Master Kerrass! I'm so glad it's you!" The girl hurtled into him and the witcher's hands came up to catch her shoulders, patting her back awkwardly as sobs wracked her slender body.
"Tell me what happened." He asked, modulating his voice into a more comforting timber, sitting beside her on the side of the bed as she fought to get herself under control.
Tearfully, the girl told him of the witch hunters battering down the door in the middle of the night a week ago, of Master Jad and Mistress Leticia being lead away in dimiterium manacles. The mistress' mother had been left to attend the children.
"T'is only been two days since the master returned to us," the girl gulped, "looking haunted and empty, beaten so raw there wasn't a patch of skin anywhere on him that wasn't bloody or bruised. His eyes were terrible and he told us Mistress Letty was dead." She wept again, unable to continue her story for a moment. "She were so kind to us and those witch hunters killed her!"
The witcher did his best to comfort the distraught girl. Information. He needed information. "Where did Karadin, Master Jad, go? Where are the children and their grandmother?"
"I, I don't know. But he gave me this and told me to give it to you should I ever see you." Teensie pulled a marked coin from her pocket, pressing it in his hand. She shuddered as she continued her story. "He took the bairns and the grand dame off with him and told me to gather the other servants and hide. Said he would take the children somewhere safe. Wasn't more than an hour after they left that the witch hunters broke into the house and took Cookie and old Shuburt and two of the boys. I ran here. Madam is a friend of my mother so she took me in right away. I had my friend at the neighbor's keep an eye out for you or any of the Master's friends to bring them here."
The wiry man stood and started to pace. Scratching his beard and thinking. He had missed his brother Cat by two days, and now Jad had disappeared. Kerrass felt frustrated and angry that he hadn't been available when Karadin's family had needed him. Jad and the children could be tracked, though that was not an easy enterprise. Witchers were notoriously hard to trace when they didn't want to be found.
"Master witcher," the girl breathed fearfully, hopefully. "We need your help. Those of us who got away. We have to get out of the city, out of Redania. All of us are on the wanted list by the Church. They'll burn us on a pyre!" Her eyes were wild and panicked. "We don't have much and we know you don't give charity, but we'll pay you. Six of us are ready to leave if you'll take us south to Nazaire. Decided it's far enough to start over and not ever be recognized by them who would kill us here." She peered up at him hopefully.
The witcher stopped pacing and looked at the coin the girl had given him more carefully, nodding to himself. "Stay put here. I'll be in touch." With that, he left the brothel, figuring he should have known Karadin was nose deep with the local mob. Heels striking sparks off the cobbles he headed to the bathhouse for answers.
It was close to the Passiflora, set under the curving roadway that led to Temple Island, a cool and inviting edifice that advertised its services for all who had the coin. Kerrass knocked on the solid oak recessed door, flashing the coin when a face appeared at a small, shuttered window in it. The door opened and he stepped inside, passing the coin over as a comely wench led him away down a hallway.
"Master Reuven wishes to see you." Was all she said as she ushered him into a dark paneled office lined, floor to ceiling, with imposing book cases. The door snicked shut, closing in on gloom broken by only a single oil lamp. The room was well cared for, lemon oil evidently being the favored polish used on the wooden surfaces here.
Kerras heard the creak of leather and wood as someone shifted their weight at his approach. The acrid smell of a cheroot flared as that someone lit a puff on the cigar, allowing a thin billow of smoke to drift into the shadows. "Do you know, Novigrad has been the center of a fucking witcher's convention lately? Can't swing a rat without hitting one of you." Complained a grating, irate voice that belonged to the smoking cheroot. "Makes me wonder what's afoot. Makes me damn nervous." The words floated up from behind the tall back of an imposing chair on more drifting smoke. A hand gestured to the right, seemingly at the massive bookcase in front of the someone. "If the damned lot of you weren't so useful, I'd have secured my peace and done for you long ago. Not that you aren't culling your own ranks nicely all on your own. Cats, wolves, even snakes run around what's left of Temeria as if it's a fucking playground, getting themselves killed in the bargain."
The man rose from his seat revealing himself to be large and raw boned. Sigi Rueven was well dressed after the manner of a very wealthy merchant or minor nobility, leaning heavily on an ebony cane that was carved to resemble an owl at the top. He came into the light and glared at Kerrass from slitted eyes and a sour face. "Do you know what I hate even more than witchers randomly causing trouble in my city just being their happy assed selves?"
The witcher narrowed his eyes at the big man and crossed his arms across his chest, his stance subtle and loose, ready to uncoil at the merest flicker of warning. "Don't particularly care what you hate, Reuven. I just want some answers. For starters, where's Jad Karadin?"
The big man laughed, a grating sound reminiscent of boulders being crushed alongside a road. "I hate owing a witcher. I hate being obliged to one so much I have to entertain another in my office as part of discharging that obligation. Sit." The sharp words were not an invitation, though the two shot glasses that appeared on the desk alongside a demijohn of vodka were. Kerrass ground his teeth together, bunching his jaw before taking the seat and accepting a glass from the big man lounging at his ease against a bookshelf.
"What did you owe my brother Cat?" Kerrass threw the jigger of vodka back, enjoying its slow burn down his throat to warm his chest.
A nasty sneer twisted his host's lips. "That's neither here nor there, but he was useful to me. Just like you will be."
"What makes you so sure I'll play your game?" The lean witcher stood and turned to leave.
"You won't find Karadin or the children on your own. You should know witchers are damn hard to find when they don't want to be." Sigi Reuven growled, "But you do this job for me and I'll give you the information you want." Kerrass sank back on the chair and threw back the remainder of his vodka, wanting to curse at the mobster who taunted him.
Reigning in his temper with a tightened fist on his knee, the witcher ground out in a measured voice, "What do you want me to do?"
"It's very simple really. You'll be escorting Letitia Karadin's mother to Vizima. And taking a packet with you to Emperor Emhyr." The big mobster chuckled nastily at the sour look on the witcher's face. "You will wait until you are sent on your way, do what they ask and then when it's time, you will return to me whatever it is they give you."
"Why the delay?" The witcher asked, "Why not just tell me where to find my friend and leave it at that."
"Two reasons. First, nothing is ever free. You want a favor, you have to do a favor for me." The big man's sneer was ugly. "Second, I gave my word to Karadin that I would cover his tracks out of Novigrad and give him a straight run wherever he was going." Reuven refilled his shot glass, holding the demijohn to Kerrass. "No, I DON'T know where that is, so don't ask."
Accepting the jar of hooch, the rangy man scratched at the rough beard under his chin. "What's the point if you don't know where he went?"
Reaching for a drawer in his desk, the mobster pulled out an envelope, holding it so Kerrass could recognize the writing on it's surface. He noted the wax was impressed with Karadin's own seal and that it had not been broken. Reuven pointed the edge of the envelop at the witcher.
"You do what I ask and this will be yours. Shouldn't take you long. It's just a simple delivery and pick up job then you come back here." Reuven laughed the moment he saw the witcher's capitulation. "Have a bath on the house tonight. You get on the road just after midnight." With that, the mobster sat back in his high backed chair, dismissing Kerrass with a wave of his cheroot.
