W.C. Fields: Chapter 11, Old 'Friends'
"I am free of all prejudice. I hate everyone equally."
Philippa flew through an open window and into the bedroom, gliding straight over to the bed. Materializing in a puff of smoke she sat on the bed, leant over Yennefer and muttered a quick incantation. Her hands glowed faintly with warm white light as she moved them over her body while searching for any visible injuries. Seeing none, she drew her attention to their surroundings and remained alert. With his head start, the Witcher would surely have gotten here first, yet there was no sign of him. That meant that either he had been too late to catch Istredd, that the Mage was yet to arrive, or that he had been apprehended in time.
It didn't take long for the spell to reassure Philippa that the former of those possibilities was improbable. The woman lying on the bed was most definitely Yennefer, not an illusion or polymorph, and she was unharmed. Well, besides the fact she was dead, of course. The Sorceress sighed softly.
Philippa looked once more at Yennefer, hesitated, then left the room in silence.
Carefully she slipped out of the house, thankful that no one noticed her because of the fracas going on in the courtyard. She flew out of the back of the house and circled around until she was between the vineyards and the main building. Disappearing behind one of the houses she transformed back into her natural form. She took a moment to compose herself and then made her way up the cobblestone.
Whereas the courtyard had, until then, been bustling with people going this way and that, it was now the stage upon which a small crowd had gathered. But, as she neared this group, the term 'lynch mob' becoming increasingly more appropriate, she could smell blood.
She stopped just short of the group and folded her arms. "What's this?" she jeered, making a gesture towards the crowd as she moved closer. "Have we decided to turn on each other so soon? A shame, truly. I was just beginning to think that Triss might actually prove me wrong, but I suppose some things are destined to never change."
Part of the gathering, which had fallen into hushed whispers, parted to allow her through. Mostly, they were faces she didn't recognise and Philippa was pleased to see that they were looking at her with an indication of fear in their eyes. It was good to know even in this unholy sunny part of the word, her charm still worked. As she neared the heart of the argument, she saw him.
"Istredd," spat Philippa, as though the name let a foul taste in her mouth.
He narrowed his eyes. "Philippa," he replied. His words weighted with equal bitterness as he held his head up.
The Sorceress took one look at his dishevelled visage and chuckled. "It's good to see you looking so…well. I presume the Witcher gave you the welcome you deserved." She smiled spitefully at him. "Where did you find him?" she asked, addressing Geralt.
She saw his fists shuddering by his sides. "In the bedroom," he replied without looking at her.
Philippa felt disgusted and glowered at the lecherous Mage. "Perhaps I was wrong to assume that his intrusion had been justly disciplined. I must ask, Witcher, why he is thus still standing," she drawled. Someone behind her sighed deeply.
"Because we need him."
Philippa snapped her head back round so fiercely that her ponytails whipped her cheeks. She managed to comport herself calmly while speaking. "I'm finding it hard to believe a single word in that sentence, Geralt."
"That makes two of us," huffed Ciri. She was standing with her hands on her hips, the spitting image of Yennefer whenever the Sorceress was unsatisfied with something. Both women rounded their eyes on the Witcher.
Geralt rubbed his eyes wearily, revealing the blood stains on his hands. "Please, Ciri," he begged turning towards the girl. "If there was another choice, I'd take it. I don't want him here, but that doesn't matter. Not anymore. He can help, Ciri, that's what's important." There was an awkward silence. "You…You don't think that I really want him here…Do you?"
"No, no of course not Geralt," she answered quickly, casting her eyes to the floor. "I'm just afraid that he'll do more harm than good."
"Because he will," stated Philippa, "he cannot be trusted." She took several unhurried and deliberate steps towards Istredd, never breaking eye contact.
"Leave it, Philippa," he warned under his breath, leaning forwards slightly.
"Before you make any decisions, Witcher, there is something you should know about this venomous. Little. Snake," she said provokingly, enjoying the sight of Istredd's increasingly apprehensive face. "Something about that night on Thanedd…"
One of the perks of being headmistress was that she had eyes and ears all over Aretuza. She was confident that Istredd was still in his room despite the death sentence Yennefer had hung above his head. Philippa needed to know why.
As she neared his door she reduced her pace and was cautious about the sound of her high heels tapping against the stone. Warily, she inched closer and pressed her back up against the cold stone wall. She spoke an incantation and felt the ward activate. She acted quickly.
From inside the room she heard what sounded like faint swearing, the volume of which increased dramatically as she flung open the door. With elegance and precision, she cast her attack and the Mage was hurled against the wall, hitting the stones with a thud. Istredd was kept from sagging to the floor by Philippa's magic which roughly held him up by the collar.
With glee, the Sorceress watched Istredd struggle knowing that his efforts would be futile. "A new addition to the school," she commented, pointing with a crimson, glossy fingernail to the runes pulsing with faded luminescence. "Do you like them, Istredd? With one simple spell either Rita or I can erect the dormant ward in any room or building on Thanedd. It completely suppresses any magic that isn't our own." She laughed nastily at the Magician as he thrashed around wildly and continued muttering spells and insults. "You've grown not only lascivious but imprudent as well; too long living alone, I presume."
"What is the meaning of this!" he fumed, a vein in his neck throbbing violently.
Philippa tutted stridently, gently shaking her head and wagging her finger in his blustering face. "Don't play me for a simpleton, Istredd, I will not be beguiled so easily. You've spent far too long living amongst the peasants and nobility in that quaint and dull little town of yours - or perhaps it was a measly village, it's so easy to forget - that you've overlooked the fact that you are amongst your superiors here."
"Forgive me," said Istredd sardonically, flashing his teeth, "I shall rephrase my question to suit my most honourable company. What the fuck is the meaning of this, you Sorceress whore?"
Philippa scoffed. "You truly are a most charming man, Istredd. It's clear to see why dear Yennefer," she saw his eyes narrow, "has run straight back into your expectant arms, after all this time you've spent waiting and longing for her." She took a step back and watched the Mage's face contort with such vehemence he seemed unable to articulate his rage. "Oh, but I think I'm mistaken. That's not what happened is it, Istredd? Yennefer didn't want to run away with you, did she? She didn't choose you over the Witcher-"
"Don't you dare," interrupted the Sorcerer, eyes popping madly, "use that vile word in my presence. You sicken me with the mention of that most unnatural and wicked, abomination. I-"
Philippa flicked her wrist and at once the room went silent. Istredd opened and closed his mouth, but no more words passed his lips. Though his deportment was more than enough to convey his animosity.
Philippa straightened a ruffle in her skirt. "I grow tired of your banal insults, Istredd. As I was saying; Yennefer has abandoned you, left you for another. For the Witcher, no less…And that is precisely why you're still here."
The sounds of Istredd struggling against her magic followed Philippa as she gradually stepped away from him and towards the open trunk he had been huddled over before her arrival. There were items strewn all over the floor, dispersed amongst pieces of glass from the shattered mirror which had hung on the wall and various pieces of wood and battered draws. Stooping over, Philippa peered inside the mostly empty trunk and found what she was looking for. She bent over and pulled out a large knapsack.
She brought it into Istredd's view. "I'm curious to see," she said, fiddling with the buckle which was keeping the bag closed, "why you intend to leave Thanedd with less than you came with. Why is it, Istredd, that rather than packing your trunks, you have decided to leave this place with only a backpack." She didn't wait for an answer, unbuckling the flap
nimbly with one hand. "Well, let's see, shall we?" She opened the flap.
The Mage's pupils dilated as Philippa plunged her hand inside. After taking a brisk look and rummage, she walked over to the bed and emptied the bag's contents onto it. Perching on the edge of the mattress, she spread the objects out over the quilt and examined them closely, one by one. What she saw made her face screw up with disgust.
"I'm finding it hard to determine what's worse. Thinking that this is what you had planned for your reunion if things went well, or if this was your back-up plan for when things turned sour." Firmly clutching something in both hands she stormed up to him. She threw the two items at his feet. A long heap of rope and a thick black piece of cloth. "That gag is just Yennefer's colour, don't you think, Istredd?"
He glared at her. "Ropes, a gag, knock-out potions," she listed disdainfully, leaning over him, "money, notes on invisibility spells and two talismans with concealment and illusionary charms of very high magic. You've stocked up well Istredd. I daresay your plan to kidnap Yenna, 'your beloved', would have gone off without a hitch. But unfortunately for you, it won't." Without breaking eye contact, Philippa flicked her wrist and the villain's supplies began to smoke.
"Stop! Stop!" he bellowed as the spell which had held his tongue was lifted. "Don't do this Philippa! Do you know what you are condemning Yenna to? Stop this now, and I might yet save her from that, thing; from the life he has imprisoned her in!" She did not reply. "Please, Philippa, please stop. I beg you."
Philippa watched as Istredd tried to fight the invisible hand pinning him to the wall. It still smelt of lilac and gooseberries. "Could you possibly be any more hypocritical if you tried?" she asked rhetorically. When the Sorcerer aimed a hysterical punch at her, she didn't even flinch. The blow was well off its mark. "Have you truly fallen so low, Istredd – fist-fighting?"
Ignoring the man's abuses, she watched with content as Istredd's heinous belongings were reduced to ash. With another incantation, even that vanished. However, Philippa knew that his victim was far from safe and that wasn't good enough for her. She needed to see this through.
Istredd stopped struggling, his posture deflated. "No…No…Yenna, please forgive me. I have failed you…I'm sorry…" he murmured, staring at the small string of smoke which was all that remained of his tools
Philippa watched him closely, saw his shoulders slump as he mourned. Somehow, she felt even more revolted.
"Time to pack something else, Istredd," said Philippa. She lobbed the now-empty leather knapsack at his feet. "It's time for you to leave, alone."
She released him. He landed ungainly, falling to his hands and knees. His well-groomed hair fell from his shoulders as he bowed his head to the floor, hiding his face from her. Philippa could hear him taking deep, shaky breaths.
When he raised his head, he was once again seething. "You will pay for this, Philippa Eilhart," he growled quietly, rising to his feet, spittle flying from his clenched jaw. "I will not let your interference go unpunished. Like that freak, you too will know pain. I will avenge Yenna's suffering. You will pay for preventing me from saving her this night, you will pay for the harm you have inadvertently sentenced her to."
Her hands shook by an infinitesimal degree. "Then I look forward to seeing you again, Istredd. Have a safe journey." She spun on her heels and glided over to the door. "Oh, and Istredd," she added, half turning towards him, painted hands dripping the door frame, "I'll be watching - you can be sure of that. If you don't leave or if you go anywhere near Yenna…I'll know. If you're still anywhere in Gors Velen by dawn, I'll kill you personally." She looked away.
"Why?" She stopped just short of the threshold but didn't turn around. Istredd continued coldly. "Why stop me, Phillipa? Since when did you give a damn about what happened to her?"
She slammed the door behind her.
Suzanne Collins - The Hunger Games: Chapter 12, Trusting in Monsters
"For there to be betrayal, there would have to have been trust first."
Hello! Hope you enjoyed this Philippa POV, there will be more next week. I wonder…Does anyone hate Istredd even more now? I hope so.
Get ready for some more unexpected guests next week and the week after that…Don't look forward to it…Chapter 13 is not going to be a nice one, just to warn you.
Please comment, like, share, etc. I really want to know what people think and if you are enjoying my story ? Until next week!