Thank you omniGamer101 for all your help with edits!
Thank you Pineappleapproves for the picture of Arek and Micah!
Thank you to all my readers! If you like the story, please leave a review.
Lambert and Arek weren't the only new arrivals that day. As Micah came into the dining hall, she heard a loud whooshing roar that reminded her of the rift that had sucked her out of her own world and deposited her in this one. Then she saw it, glowing black and purple and blue, it erupted right in the dining hall, making candles flicker and blowing papers off the table.
"Aaaaand that would be Yen," said Triss coming up behind her.
"Fuck me sideways. What the hell is SHE doing here?" Lambert muttered at her other side as the raven tressed woman regally strolled out of the portal.
Micah's brows came down over her eyes in irritation and she hissed at him, "Would you kiss your contractee's mothers with that mouth?"
The young witcher grinned evilly and said, "I'll kiss you with it doll face, whadaya say?"
"I say I should have cast igni instead of aard." She gave him a droll look and walked away with her back straight, taking shelter beside her Manticore as Lambert chuckled softly.
Triss looked on in interest and said, "Not much hope for you with her, Lambert. Pretty sure she's got eyes only for Arek." The lean Wolf just shrugged and grinned.
"Mmmm, Lambert." Purred the beautiful, ebon locked sorceress in an obsidian gown that matched her hair. She had adroitly glided to them with an enigmatic smile, "Be a good boy and fetch me a cup of wine, please."
Triss made eye contact with him and shook her head ever so slightly, warning Lambert to keep his mouth shut. Yennefer of Vengerberg was known to have a fiery temper and this was not a good time or place to stir it up. The witcher balled up a fist and stalked off.
"Well, Triss," said the other sorceress tightly, "You look quite cozy here. But then, you've never been a stranger to Kaer Morhen, have you."
"These witchers have been my friends for many years, Yen. I'm here because I told Geralt I would help him, help Ciri with the Wild Hunt."
"Mmhmm." The ebon sorceress hummed to herself, then murmured in a deceptively soft voice."Just so you know you don't need to help yourself to Geralt's bed, any more, my dear friend." Yennefer's voice was cultured, moderated and full of venomous warning that was not lost on the flame haired woman. The message was as unambiguous as it could be. Their longstanding rivalry concerning the famed White Wolf was over.
"Yen," Triss sighed. "you don't need to cut up nasty to me. He … he told me in Novigrad. The only reason we had anything at all is because he couldn't remember you. I'm moving on with my life and you have no reason to sharpen your claws at my expense."
"Well then, It's good we've had this little chat." Yennefer's Cheshire smile hid fangs. "Good friends shouldn't ever fight over a man, after all. It's not like they aren't scattered about the ground like mayapples." The dark-haired sorceress looked about at the current male population of the castle, noticing the big witcher next to a mousy woman. Nodding at the unlikely couple, Yennefer tapped her chin. "So, tell me who these new additions to our merry band are."
Triss pushed a strand of hair back from her face, looking idly where Yennefer was staring. "The dark haired witcher with white streaking his temples and beard is Arek of Malleore, a witcher of the Manticore school. He's a friend of Vesemir's. His companion is a healer from down near Vizima. Her name is Micah Van Waller. That's all I really know about either of them. She showed up with Eskel two days ago and he rode into Kaer Morhen this morning. I only got here last night."
Growing bored, Yennefer turned back to the redheaded woman. "To answer your unspoken question, Triss. Geralt is riding, making his way here from an audience with the Emperor in Vizima. He is bringing …. A surprising individual with him and we will have a mystery to untangle when he arrives. They should be here within the next week." Yennefer let out a long-suffering sigh. "If I know Geralt, he won't stop for anything and will push himself too hard. At least his mare, Roach, has some sense." Yennefer tossed her head regally, then said, "Introduce me to this new witcher and his mousy little shadow."
Triss did the honors as Eskel and Lambert joined the group. Yennefer found it amusing that the two witchers felt it necessary to protect the mouse from her while Arek stood at the girl's back gripping her shoulders. Did they think she was going to scratch the mouse's eyes out? True, this new witcher was every bit as fascinating as her own, but he was no Geralt of Rivia, so she kept her comments mostly polite.
Micah had taken an immediate dislike to the showy woman as soon as she had seen her glance contemptuously her way. She didn't really know much about sorceresses or using magic at all, it wasn't her thing. But she had heard that those who practiced the arcane were very often not at all what they seemed to be. They used magic and potions to give themselves the appearance of eternal youth and they were never, ever ugly, or even less than ravishing, if they had any say in the matter. Yennefer reminded the little doctor of nothing so much as the cheer captain when she had been in high school. That girl had been positively malignant in her jealousy toward anyone who dared to even look at her football captain boyfriend, or indeed any of the boys on the football team, whom she considered her rightful court. Micah found herself wishing she was in something other than leathers and braids, then viciously tamped down on that impulse. She was an adult and had no need to be ashamed of her accomplishments or her life. Arek wouldn't be alive if not for her healing skills, and it was due to her research that witchers existed in the first place. She straightened up and looked the sorceress in the eyes as she greeted the woman. Vesemir called the boys away to help him put on dinner as the women talked.
"So, what is it you do, Miss Van Waller?" Purred Yennefer when the witchers were busy in the kitchen. Her tone was deceptively civil.
"I have a doctorate in medicine from Oxenfurt University. I've spent the last several years of my life helping the people of Velen survive the wars. And you?" Micah kept her face pleasantly bland and swirled the wine in her cup. She decided now was not the time to trumpet her doctorates in Genetics and Biochemistry, her groundbreaking research into chimeras and chromosomal exchange using bone marrow stem cells, the seventy-two published and independently validated research papers she had authored or co-authored that had led to the government tapping HER as a required talent in their think tank. It was definitely not the time to boast about her processes that successfully created mutations which enhanced the natural attributes of the organisms they were applied to. Oh, but she wanted to. She wanted to smear all that in the face of this too beautiful woman who was striving to make her feel small and unimportant.
With effort, Micah got hold of herself and gave Yennefer a genuine smile as the woman replied coolly, "Nothing you would understand, I am sure. The vagaries of Magic, you know."
"Of course. Here's to vagaries," toasted Micah, and the three women drank.
The men came out with a platter of roasted boar and root vegetables. Eskel made a jape that at least it had been Vesemir cooking tonight and not Lambert, or they would all have starved. They sat around the table discussing the world outside the walls of Kaer Morhen, listening to stories of hunts and the acquisition of trophies and new scars. Micah caught both Triss and Yennefer rolling their eyes and had to laugh to herself. It didn't matter where they were, men were men. They never changed in their need for accolades and the approbation of their peers.
Triss indicated the girls should leave the boys to their chest thumping and retire to the evening hall. She wanted to get Micah away on her own anyway, the girl seemed different, but she couldn't get her hands around what it was. The three left as Eskel launched into a story about a fiend and being covered in what smelled like the urine of a female fiend in heat. The uproarious laughter of the men and their very ribald comments floated up the stairs after the women.
"Ugh!" Triss laughed as Yennefer made a rollicking fire appear in the empty grate.
"That was a good idea, Triss." Said Yennefer on a husky laugh. "Get us out of there before they got into full swing about their battle stories."
"Indeed. Men in general, and witchers in particular, like to relive their hunts," said Triss.
Micah sat quietly and listened as the two sorceresses caught up, discussing the flight of the Novigradi mages to Kovir, and what Geralt and Yennefer had uncovered in Skellige. They talked about Ciri, the child surprise, and wondered where she could possibly be and if the wild hunt had caught up to her. They discussed the Church of the Eternal Fire, how Menge was dead, but with the caliber of people in the Church's police arm, there would soon be someone even worse. They spoke of the severe persecution that was sure to arise against non-humans and both grew quiet as they thought of friends who still dwelt in the city.
"What do you think of all this, Micah?" asked Triss.
"What do I think? Hmm." The small woman thought back over world history. The history of her own world. Wars, pogroms, movements, purges … nothing ever changed.
"I think people suck. That's what I think. You could remove all the mages, herbalists, healers, charlatans, dwarves, elves, what have you, and it wouldn't change. There are some people, who, when they get into power, go to great lengths to consolidate that power and to name their boogiemen." Her eyes were bitter as she remembered the boogiemen she had been creating augmented humans to combat. "Those who are subjected to their rule don't think to brightly on the real cause of their misery and go right along with what they are told. There is always going to be a Caleb Menge, or a King Radovid. Men like the Emperor of Nilfgaard will always rise up and they will sweep aside places like Velen and Temeria and Cintra like gnats in their quest to rule. Until the people themselves rise up and demand better, embrace knowledge, put away their hidebound traditions that keep them living in the filth of their own sewage, nothing will change."
Triss raised her cup, saying "Here, here."
Yennefer looked at the mousy girl again and saw that, maybe, she wasn't quite as insignificant a person as she had first thought. She, too, raised her cup in toast.
The three days that followed were filled with the witchers working out in the practice yard in the mornings, admired by Micah and the two sorceresses. They especially enjoyed it when the men doffed their shirts to work out.
Arek drilled her on the signs, impressed that her igni had improved so much. She struggled with axii and was finally able to get a mouse to stay completely still and sit on her hand, though yrden just wouldn't come. Vesemir encouraged her to keep trying. He had seen many a young witcher struggle just as she did. Both of the older witchers had questioned her closely about how she felt when the power drew through her body and expressed itself in the sign. It tired her, of course, but it seemed to her that the more she practiced, the longer she could hold them and the more powerfully she could express them. This, too, was consistent with young witchers, though they had always gone through the trial of the grasses before they learned signs.
Yennefer and Triss took her aside and tried working with her on real magic, but it really was beyond her. She had no sense of gathering power from the environment. It all came from her own strength, or from the standing stone in the basement of the keep. She could sense nothing in the various places around the castle that the two claimed to be sources for the power. The sorceresses were baffled at how she could manage signs. They cast spells to see if she detected as magic, they used charms, they even had her drinking potions that would allow them to detect latent talent. But there wasn't even the slightest dribble of power from the girl. They were completely stumped.
"Can they do it?" asked Micah on the third day, "Can the witchers do more than cast signs?"
Triss and Yennefer looked at each other, then Yen spoke. "I once tried to teach Geralt to form an actual fireball. Theoretically, he should have been able to. It's just a stronger form of Igni after all. But he was never able to do it, even though he emanates strongly. I always just thought he didn't WANT to do it."
"What if," said Micah suddenly, "what if the ability to channel this power - being adept - what if it's genetic, intrinsic instead of extrinsic? And what if being receptive to the mutations is part of the same gene, but expressed differently, and the two traits cannot be co-expressed in the same individual. Some sort of split dominance, or a double recessive trait. So, you either have the ability to become Adept or … or you would be receptive to mutations. Able to make signs- but not having the full expression of the gene so you couldn't be a mage. Yet the partial expression makes you more receptive to the mutagenic adaptations." She tapped her lips with a forefinger. "It's a marker. A sign in the chromosomal road map. It might actually work." She started to pace with her hands clasped behind her back, her brow furrowing in thought. "Different expressions based on what form of the gene was inherited, but you didn't know how to check and see if someone actually had the gene, which expresses itself through less than thirty percent of the male population so your mortality rates were dismally high. And you never tried to use augments on females because the ones who HAD the gene almost always expressed the full function and were Adepts. Y linked recessive cross dominance in men, but X linked autosomal recessive in women. Women who did not express as adepts but had the gene were too few to successfully be found and mutated. What is the incidence? One in a hundred? A thousand? Quod Erat Demonstrandum no female witchers, ever! Expression for Adept-ability is far greater and found in more people than the expression that lends itself to the mutations. But it's not a common gene and it's not an uncomplicated one. Something so finely controlled as sensing quantum strings and which to pull would not be basic. Though it could well be elegantly simple."
She had lost herself in the possibilities, postulations coming quickly to the consternation of the two women who were struggling to keep up with the stream of thought. The witchers had abandoned their sword practice and gathered around to listen to her as well.
"Hm. Being able to track the genes means it should be possible to augment both sexes who had the correct copy and the right expression of the gene, or genes. It could be more than one. Breeding population right there. And the genes themselves tell us WHO is most likely to take the augs. How did I not see this before? I need a lab! And I need tissue samples! And I need a quantum physicist." She stood for a moment and looked up, gazing at the faces staring at her in sheer confusion.
"What the fuck is she talking about?" Lambert asked Arek.
"I really don't know. Still haven't figured it out." The big Manticore replied.
"She do that often? Talk to herself?"
"No, but I've heard those words before. Physicist, chromosome, quantum strings. Damned if I know what they mean," muttered Arek.
Micah turned away from them abruptly and stalked back to the castle, there was a book she had seen in the library and she wanted to check something in it before she lost her train of thought. And she needed to write it down!
Yennefer took a deep breath and said to Triss, "Well, she's quite a bit more than I made her out to be. The question is, just exactly what IS she?"