Chapter Eleven
All Roads Lead to Perdition

"Isn't this fascinating?" Gaunter O'Dimm stepped over the threshold, walking past Ciri and the unconscious Marlene de Trastamara. "I would claim surprise, but I think we're all past that. At the very least I'm impressed by how close you are to the mark. Even if that distance is still measured in lightyears."

Triss finished standing. "You mean I'm right?"

"Now, now." He waved his finger back and forth. "That would be telling. Still, I must find a proper way to reward your diligence. You managed to dig up more about me in one sleepless night than Shakeslock did in the last five years of his life. I guess Oxenfurt's standards aren't what they used to be."

He was standing in the center of the main room now, with all eyes on him. Geralt had moved over to help Ciri move Marlene into the bedroom and set her down, while Yennefer and Triss stared hard at Gaunter O'Dimm, who smiled serenely and waited for them to finish.

"Well then, what shall I do with you, Triss Merigold? Do you remember the charred mess you were reduced to after Sodden Hill? It took an awful lot of magic to make you presentable again. Magic that could easily be undone."

Triss inhaled sharply but made no other reaction, save for her eyes widening a hair.

"And speaking of appearances changed with magic, it would be incredibly simple to turn Yennefer here back into the hunchback whose family couldn't wait to get rid of her, who had to endure unimaginable pain so people could stand to look at her in the daylight. I wonder if Geralt would still love you?"

Lightning flashed inside Yennefer's violet eyes, but she stood there and said nothing as he continued.

"And Geralt. You're such a dear old friend it almost pains me to do this. You were altered through mutagens instead of magic, but in the grand scheme of things, they're not altogether different. I wonder how well your body would handle a mutation reversal at your age. Are you curious as well?"

"Enough with the threats," Geralt snapped. "I get it. You want us to back off. But you're also someone who makes deals. I've got one for you."

Steepling his fingers, Gaunter O'Dimm smiled darkly. "Really? I'm listening."

"We each want information from a different source," the Witcher explained. "And I know you're not going to tell us. So how about this: we each go on our way to seek the knowledge we're looking for. You can put one obstacle in each of our paths, but they have to be possible to overcome. If we do, then you let us gain the knowledge, pass it on to Ciri, and don't bother us any further. If we fail, then you get to follow through on everything you just said."

"Interesting. To truly make this a pact, all parties must agree." He looked to Yennefer and Triss. "What do you say?"

"It doesn't sound like we have any other option," said Triss. "Fine. I agree."

"I do as well," said Yennefer.

"I don't!" Ciri shouted. "You're mad making a deal with him!"

"While this is ultimately about you, your permission is not required," Gaunter O'Dimm explained. "They've all made this decision of their own free will, out of some sense of devotion towards you. You should be honored to have a family so loyal."

"You don't get to threaten people and call it free will when they offer up an alternative!"

Geralt placed a hand on his shoulder. "Ciri. This is our decision. We're doing this to help you, and we don't have any other options. You know what he can do."

"You beat Vilgefortz," she insisted, sniffling roughly as she fought back tears. "You can beat him too."

"I know. But this is the only way to do that. Trust me, like I'm trusting you."

She closed her eyes and sniffled. "Alright."

"Well then." By this time Gaunter O'Dimm had produced a contract from his satchel and placed it on the table. "Everything's been drafted. All that remains is three signatures. In blood, of course."

"Me first," said Geralt. Pulling out a small dagger, he made a small cut across his forearm, dipping the quill that O'Dimm provided into the wound before signing his name on the contract.

"Excellent. To make things interesting, I'll tell you what to expect." Weaving his fingers together, he looked straight into his eyes. "Geralt. You must walk down a path you swore never to travel, and humble another who reaches beyond her station. Then you will find the echoes of that which came before."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Figure it out. I can't do everything for you."

Geralt grunted and stepped aside, and Yennefer pricked herself with the dagger, then signed her name in blood.

"Yennefer. You must confront an old ally and sacrifice yourself to prevent a war. Look for the flower that blooms after midnight."

She nodded wordlessly, fixing him with a gaze that would utterly annihilate the defenses of anyone human, but did not affect his calm smile in the slightest. Finally, Triss stepped up to the contract and signed her name.

"Triss. You must find your way home from a place where there is no escape, within the serpent that swallows its own tail. You must choose between the bird or the cage."

Nodding, she stepped back, and he rolled up the contract, placing it in his satchel.

"I must say, this turned out to be far more interesting than I anticipated. I'll be seeing all of you very soon."

With that, he stepped out the door, and disappeared.

They stood there, pondering what this meant for them going forward. None of them spoke, until Yennefer summed it up in two short words.

"Well, shit."

Luxury villas in Beauclair were seldom inhabited by people who lived there all year. Most of Toussaint's permanent residents either stayed in vineyards or castles out in the countryside, and the nobility lived in or around the palace. The rest of the Hauteville district was largely commercial, with shops carrying the latest fashions and luxury goods.

Most of the housing in this area was owned by people whose stays in Toussaint were typically measured in days, such as foreign dignitaries or high level imperial figures. The servants knew them better than their owners, who rarely graced them with their presence due to how often they moved around.

Such was the case with the villa through which the Baroness Maria Louisa La Valette currently paced, nursing a bottle of Fiorano. She held the glass close to her face with her right hand and swung the bottle back and forth with the other, walking aimlessly through the empty chambers entirely unmolested by the various servants.

She had started drinking a couple hours earlier and was currently halfway through the bottle. There was nothing else to do, considering the man who owned this villa was out on business. Again.

Phantom flames fanned the sides of her face as Philippa Eilhart's mocking visage appeared inside her mind. That Redanian whore had brought nothing but ruin through her schemes, and the thought of what she was asking Morvran to do filled her with indescribable rage.

She wasn't stupid. She had some idea what the sorceress intended, if not her exact plans. It involved treason of some sort, and while she was reasonably certain that Morvran would be too clever to go along with it, the nagging doubts in her mind had grown fat on the wine with which she intended to drown them. Now she could not think of anything else.

Boots clacked against the lavishly expensive tile as one of the guards approached. She turned to him, swilling the wine glass around in a circle.

"Madame, there is a woman at the door requesting to see you."

The glass went still. "Me? Not General Voorhis?"

"She asked for you by name."

"Who is it, then?"

"Edna var Attre, Madame."

Maria narrowed her eyes. She had of course seen what happened last night. Morvran's eyes had been glued to the duel, and she would confess to being intrigued herself. She certainly had not expected things to end the way they did. The question was what Edna var Attre could want with her.

"Send her in."

The guard nodded and turned, walking back the way he came. A minute later, the young Edna entered the chamber, and the Baroness moved forward to embrace her, setting the bottle down on a nearby table.

"Edna! My deepest sympathies. It was simply awful what happened to Rosa."

"Thank you," she replied. "The doctors say she'll survive, but…"

She nodded solemnly. "It's a shame. She was such a promising young fencer."

"Everyone keeps saying that. But she's more than just her hobbies."

"Of course, darling. My apologies." She gently gripped Edna's shoulder and gestured her towards two chairs set up next to the table where she had placed the Fiorano. "Has your father been made aware?"

"He has. He'll be here in a few days."

"That's good to hear. What can I do for you?"

Edna was silent for several moments, clasping her hands together above her waist and staring pensively at the floor. "It's more a question of what I can do for you."

"What do you mean?"

"I've been told from a reliable source," the other woman explained, still staring straight ahead, "that you have information regarding Philippa Eilhart. Information that could be damning if delivered into the right hands."

The wine glass froze in place right before she was about to take another sip. She set it down, staring hard at the young woman. "Who told you that?"

"It's not important. What matters is we both have reason to get back at Philippa Eilhart. You have information, and as the daughter of an ambassador, I have a direct line of communication to the Emperor. That seems like the ideal foundation for a shared endeavor."

The Baroness squinted. "Let's say I do have information. Let's even say it's credible. How do I trust you?"

"My sister is lying in that hospital bed because of Philippa's interest in her opponent from last night," Edna revealed. "The ashen-haired girl they call Falka. Apparently that's not even her real name."

"So because the Duchess forbade you from striking back at her, you want to take a shot at Philippa Eilhart." A sly smile blossomed across her features. "I can work with that."

Edna displayed a similar smile. "Wonderful."

It was said that a witcher could follow a trail that had been cold for years. So heightened were their senses that they could see blood that had long since dried and washed away. They could hone in on a scent that was days old and mixed in with several others. They could follow tracks that had been swept away by all manner of sand, snow, or other footsteps. As far as most people were concerned, they were the best trackers in the world.

But they weren't the only ones.

The girl's stench had led her here. Though it would be foolish to attack her directly while she bore the mark of the Man of Glass, that didn't preclude getting to her in other, more subtle ways. So Orianna had been retracing the girl's steps all over Beauclair, until finally she arrived in front of a shop that was oddly humble for one located in Hauteville, displaying a wooden sign painted with the word "Tattoo."

She took a deep breath in front of the door, then exhaled slowly. Mistle of Thurn had been here, within the last week. And she had lingered inside long enough for the place to be worth investigating.

"Welcome!" the shopkeep greeted as she stepped through, dressed a great deal more plainly than she had been the previous evening. "How may I assist you?"

Smiling with practiced warmness, Orianna stepped further into the shop, her eyes scanning the various samples on display, exciting her artistic side. No wonder he was able to open a shop in the upper city. The door shut behind her.

"I was thinking we could help each other. Do you know who I am?"

The man squinted, tilting his head to look at her from another angle, before ultimately shaking his head. "I am sorry."

"Nothing to be ashamed of. I don't know your name either."

"Almavera."

"Very nice to meet you, Almavera. My name is Orianna. I host the Mandragora."

Recognition flashed in Almavera's eyes, which started to behold her with greater reverence. "My most humble apologies! Had I known you were coming I would have—"

She raised a hand, and he stopped. "That's quite alright. I'd actually like to keep this visit a secret. If you help me with what I'm looking for, I promise you'll be quite the attraction at my next gathering."

"But of course! What is it you need?"

"I'm interested in someone who came by here within the last week. Tall, blonde, hair shorn on the sides. Bit of an attitude."

Almavera's eyes registered a new emotion, which she had not expected: fear.

"Am I correct in saying she was here?"

He nodded very slowly. "Please," he said. "I don't want any trouble."

"Then start talking. Given the way you're trembling right now, she obviously wasn't an average customer. How do you know her?"

Absentmindedly, Almavera moved over to a stool and sat down, clutching his forehead as he started to sweat. Panic began to overtake his features, and told Orianna more than she would have been able to learn with words. His breathing quickened, and he struggled to say anything.

"Are you alright?"

"I… I…"

Orianna moved closer to him, staring straight into his eyes. His features grew slack, and he relaxed, then looked up at her obediently.

"Feel better?"

He nodded.

"Now tell me about her."

"I thought she was dead," he began. "I met Mistle and her gang more than five years ago, in Ebbing. I was passing through a postal station in my wagon, and they captured me and asked me to pay the toll. I'd already paid protection money to their employer, but they weren't up to date on the new sign. So while they waited for him to arrive, they took the toll out of me in trade."

"You gave them tattoos?"

He nodded. "Mistle asked for a red rose on her inner thigh. The other girl, Falka, asked for the same. That was when Hotspurn showed up."

"Hotspurn?"

"Their employer. He managed all the gangs in the area, worked out the protection rackets and kept them up to date on which merchants to raid and which ones to let pass. I was working on Falka's tattoo the whole time they talked."

Orianna's eyes lit up with interest. "What did they talk about?"

"Business, mostly. Apparently the Rats had failed to do the job they were hired for. He also talked about a Baron's daughter they robbed. The Baron was offering a bounty for Falka to be delivered to him so she could be flayed alive."

"And this same Falka is the one who was at the ball last night?"

He nodded. "They came in the shop about a week ago, like you said. I jumped out of my skin when I found out they were alive."

"Why did you think they were dead?"

"Because of Leo Bonhart."

"Who?"

"Bounty hunter. Operated in Ebbing around the same time. Apparently Nilfgaard hired him to kill the gang, and they rode off to face him right after they were done with me. From what I've heard, he killed them all."

"How reliable were your sources?"

"On their own? Not terribly. But most accounts didn't vary much. Some of the rumors said he left Falka alive and kept her like a slave, but I never knew what to believe. Until they walked in last week I hadn't thought about them in years."

A smile spread across Orianna's features. The involvement of the Man of Glass now made more sense. "Can you tell me anything else?"

"There was one other thing they talked about. Hotspurn told them that the Emperor of Nilfgaard was set to marry Cirilla, the princess from Cintra. Wouldn't have paid it much mind, except that Falka said it was a lie and stormed out. Never did find out why it mattered so much to her."

That gave her pause. Orianna had of course heard the stories of Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, the displaced Lion Cub of Cintra, who according to official record was restored to her rightful throne after the end of the Second Northern War. Almost immediately after Cintra had risen from the ashes, it fell victim to the initial outbreak of the Catriona plague, which continued to ravage the world years later. Ciri had survived, by most reports, but without visiting she could not be sure.

But this information told a different story.

"Thank you, Almavera," she said, having learned all she could. "What you've told me today is very helpful. I'll be in touch."

"It was my pleasure." He stood and bowed, still under her thrall. When it wore off in a few hours, he would not remember anything other than what she wanted him to. "While I have you here, would you like a tattoo?"

She smiled. "Thank you, but no. I'm not prepared to commit to something like that forever."

"Have you all gone completely insane?" Ciri exclaimed as soon as Gaunter O'Dimm disappeared. "There's no way this will end well for you! You shouldn't have made a deal with him!"

Yennefer stared at her coldly. "Neither should you. But here we are."

"I didn't have a choice! It was make a deal or bleed out!"

"And you think we have it any better?" asked Triss. "You heard what he threatened to do to us."

"There was another way out. You could have just dropped it and let me solve this problem on my own!"

"So we should trust you to deal with him even though you won't extend that courtesy to us? I know you have a problem with people seeing you as someone to be rescued, but that doesn't mean you should just refuse help."

"It's not that," she replied, pacing back and forth in front of the open door. "I didn't want to draw you into this any more than I already had. As long as Mistle and I were the only ones bound to him there was a chance of all of you being safe. But not anymore."

Triss crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head. "You didn't draw us into this. If anyone's to blame, it's me. I'm the one who chose to stay up all night researching him, and I'm the one who brought it to Geralt and Yennefer. I didn't even want to tell you about it until we had solid proof, but things didn't work out that way."

"No," said Geralt. "I'm the one who wanted to keep it from her. You and Yen talked me into it."

Everyone looked to Yennefer, who shrugged. "What? I didn't do anything wrong."

Grumbling, Triss wrapped a palm around her forehead. "None of this even matters anyway. It's done. Now we have to hold up our end of the bargain by doing what we were planning to do in the first place. Do we have any idea what he meant by the hints he gave us?"

"Having to humble someone who reaches beyond their station could describe any number of people I know," said Geralt. "But I doubt he meant any of you."

"And I was planning to visit the Valley of Flowers, so it shouldn't be that hard to find one that blooms after midnight. And Francesca is an old ally." She looked at Triss. "I have no idea what your clue means."

"The Ouroboros," said Ciri. "The serpent that swallows its own tail. The Aen Elle call it the Spiral. It's a closed loop of spacetime that kept the Wild Hunt from visiting more than a handful of worlds. They wanted me to bear a child who would unlock the wider multiverse for them."

"So I have to travel through that?"

"If you want to make your way back from the world of the Aen Elle, then yes. I'm the only one capable of making that journey without a navigator, and I only ended up in the right place and time out of sheer, blind luck. I told you it was a bad idea to make a deal with him."

"It's not impossible to overcome," she said. "I just have to find a navigator. Avallac'h should know the way."

She scoffed. "Good luck getting him to help you. Now that he's free of me he has no reason to be concerned about any of your lives."

"I can handle it." She smiled and cupped Ciri's cheek with her hand. "Trust me."

"I do. But I don't think this is a good idea."

"At this point, all that matters is holding up our end of the deal."

Ciri hesitated for several moments, then calmly took several deep breaths. "Once I send you there, I can't bring you back. You'll need to figure it out for yourself."

"I know." She turned to Yennefer. "Can I borrow your megascope? I need to tell King Tankred I'll be gone longer than I thought."

"Of course. There's a portal in my study that will take you there. Just look for the book titled Advanced Paranormal Entomology."

"The study of supernatural bugs?"

Yennefer shrugged. "Would you have suspected it?"

"Good point. I'll see you in a bit."

She walked over to Yennefer's study in the back corner of the house, and a few seconds later they heard the telltale thunderclap of a portal opening. Once it closed, Ciri turned to face them.

"I just want to say," she began, "that whether or not you approve of Mistle, I still love her. And that you've got no right to criticize me for bad decisions after the one you just made."

Yennefer said nothing, but moved forward and embraced her, and Ciri's defenses instantly collapsed. They stood there like that for some time, without words to come between them. Any anger or lingering frustration left over from last night evaporated away, and Ciri realized how much she'd missed having a mother. She squeezed her arms more tightly around her and nestled her head in the crook of Yennefer's neck.

"It's not that I don't think you can handle yourself," said the sorceress as she stroked the back of Ciri's hair. "I can't imagine what you see in this girl is all."

"You do realize people wonder what Geralt sees in you? You practically tortured him for years."

"He likes it."

Ciri cackled uncontrollably. Geralt said nothing to contradict her, his only acknowledgment being a smirk and a slight puff of air escaping his nose. Yennefer released her from her grip, and the two of them separated. Ciri tucked a bit of hair back behind her left ear.

"Mistle just hates authority, that's all. She's a completely different person when she's with me."

"Gods, it's like listening to my younger self. Let me give you some free advice, Ciri. Anybody who treats you one way while treating the rest of the world with total contempt isn't someone you should give your heart to. You might think you're special to her, but all I've seen her do so far is take advantage of you."

"Then you haven't seen anything," she insisted. "There's a lot of truth in what you say. But there's a whole other side of her that you refuse to acknowledge. That's why she keeps it hidden."

Yennefer released a deep, exasperated sigh. "I don't think we're ever going to agree on this. But when this whole thing does go down in flames, and believe me, it will… I'll be here for you."

"We both will," said Geralt.

"I know. And thank you. I know you only want to keep me safe. But since when have I ever done exactly what either of you said?"

He chuckled. "She's got a point."

"That she does. Fine. I'll drop it. For now."

"For the record," he said, "I would still love you. Even if he did revert you back to your original form."

"That's appreciated, darling. But it doesn't mean I want that to happen, and I don't intend to fail. You'd better not either."

"Me? Fail to humble somebody? How could that possibly go wrong?"

She stared at him with eyes half-lidded. "Hilarious."

The portal opened again, and Triss walked back into the room. "Well, that's out of the way. I told him I had Lodge business to take care of, which is technically true, and he said to take as long as I need."

"Time is meaningless in the world of the Aen Elle anyway," said Ciri. "Different worlds move at different speeds, so to make your way back you not only have to navigate through space, but time. Get it wrong and you could come back after we've all been dead for centuries."

"I think I'll be fine, Ciri. The contract says the challenge has to be possible to overcome."

"Yes, but vague wording like that is where Gaunter O'Dimm thrives. Something can be technically possible while being so difficult that almost no one can do it. I'm the only one who can make that journey unassisted, and now I can't come with you, not that I wanted to before. All I can do is send you there."

Triss smiled and placed a hand over Ciri's cheek. "That's enough. I can figure out the rest."

"Just don't say I didn't warn you. Are you ready?"

She nodded.

Closing her eyes, Ciri breathed deeply and focused. Several seconds passed before a green glow began to emanate from her body, dancing around like flames while she stood there, unharmed and unbothered by them. Like they belonged to her.

Tracing her hands around in a circle, Ciri carved a portal from thin air, made of that same pale green energy. Her eyes opened and she gestured for Triss to step through. She did so, and then the portal disappeared.

A moment of silence passed between Ciri, Yennefer, and Geralt. Then they all started moving.

"I suppose I should go call Ida," said Yennefer, making her way towards the study.

"I'll check on Marlene," said Geralt, moving towards the bedroom.

Ciri stood there for another moment. After they had left, she looked around the empty room. The space that seemed cozy and inviting for the past week now appeared cavernous and cold, and she had never felt more alone.

"I'll just grab my things, then."

Author's Notes: And we're back, folks. I'm going to move the update schedule to every two weeks. I don't have enough content prepared to sustain weekly updates past this week. If that changes, I'll move things back to the way they were. Thank you for understanding.