Chapter Thirty
A Fine Vintage

"Massacred." Houvenaghel said it slowly, pondering over it as he swilled the wine around in the glass he held. "You're certain?"

"Not a man survived, Sir." The messenger, a young man named Bertrand, lowered his head a bit, as if that would hide the shaking of his knees. "Every last one of them, gone."

"The Silver Crows too?" Bertrand nodded. "And Kravenoff?"

"Yes, Mister Houvenaghel. They were destroyed by their targets as well."

Wrapping a large palm around his forehead, Houvenaghel sighed. "This is what happens when I outsource. Did you learn anything else? Like how in the hell they managed to do that?"

He shook his head. "Regretfully, none of us are able to talk to ghosts. But we do know that among the Rats there are two mages, a witcher, and a werewolf."

"I've never heard of any of those causing slaughter on this scale. And how did Matthias and his Silver Crows die? They weren't even supposed to attack Onyx Squadron. What went wrong?"

"No one's sure. But their bodies were found in the woods, riddled with arrows. One member of Onyx Squadron is legendary with a bow."

"He must've had some reason for going off script. But how did a bunch of villagers manage to kill Mikhail Kravenoff?"

"The ones we talked to said it was some sort of elven mage who did it. No one's sure of her name or where she came from, and she wore a mask. She cast a spell and the entire gang literally turned to ice."

"Is that all you were able to learn?"

He nodded.

"Very well then. It seems clear we must approach this problem from a different angle. You are dismissed."

With a deep bow, Bertrand took his leave, and Houvenaghel stared out over the empty fighting arena, wine still swirling in the glass. His hand trembled a bit as he considered the magnitude of what he'd just lost. The Red Razors had been the largest gang in the area, and a great deal of his understandings with the other hanses relied on their support. And now they were dead. Every last one of them.

How had the Rats managed it?

When he'd first heard their name two years ago, he could hardly take them seriously. Even when they raided his caravans, the losses were so small that he barely even considered them a nuisance. By the time he'd gotten around to sending people after them, they had grown into a force to be reckoned with. Enough so that the witcher and sorceress he'd tasked with their destruction had apparently joined them instead.

It was clear at this point that he couldn't just keep throwing bodies at the problem until it went away. He needed to try a different approach.

"Sir," said one of the guards. "There's a man here requesting an audience with you."

Houvenaghel glanced at him sideways. "Tell him I'm not available."

"I did, Sir. He's quite insistent."

He grumbled. "Tell me his name."

"Master Mirror."

The wine glass plummeted from his hands and shattered, staining the wood a deep crimson. Houvenaghel stood up rapidly and scrabbled over to the edge of the private box overlooking the arena, before remembering that he had nothing to fear. Taking a deep breath, he composed himself and stood up straight. "Let him in."

The guard nodded and returned to his post. A minute later, a bald man in a blue and yellow tunic emerged from the door, hands clasped together over his waist, smiling like the devil.

"Gaunter O'Dimm," he snarled, low and menacing. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

He ignored the pleasantries, zeroing in on the wine stain on the floor. "My, my. It appears you've made a mess of things."

Scowling, Houvenaghel adjusted his robe, drawing it tighter against himself. "It's nothing that can't be cleaned."

"Oh, on the contrary," he said. "Once the wine seeps into the wood like that, the stain never really goes away. It's a bit like blood in that regard. It might fade away until it's barely a memory, but you'll never rid yourself of it entirely."

"I'll ask again. What do you want?"

"To congratulate you," he replied, gesturing out with his arms. "On your spectacular failure. How will you recover from this, I wonder?"

"I still have control of the city and its guards," said Houvenaghel. "And I didn't completely rely on the Red Razors to keep the other gangs in line. I've lost very little, all things considered."

"Which means you're safe… for now." He walked closer, moving around the table, before leaning up against the balcony railing opposite of where Houvenaghel stood. "Yet you never know what tomorrow may bring."

He clenched his jaw, and pointed accusingly. "Take care that you do not violate our pact, creature. You know that you may not collect on my debt unless—"

"Unless that damned cousin of yours, Leo Bonhart, ruins you from beyond the grave," Gaunter O'Dimm finished. "I'm well aware."

"It also states you may not use your powers to bring about that circumstance, nor set anyone against me in pursuit of it. If you were behind that massacre, then…"

He grinned. "Rest assured, I always comply with the terms of a contract. I haven't set anyone against you. In fact, it was you who attacked them."

His response died in his throat as he realized he had no counterpoint. Gaunter O'Dimm tapped his fingers together and walked still closer, never losing that smug grin.

"I imagine you'll concoct some story to explain to the other gangs why the fate that befell their brethren shouldn't discourage them from continuing to work with you. I also suspect that the Empire will be glad to learn you've rid them of such a scourge. They may even reward you. Burning the candle at both ends as always, never concerned with what might happen when the wax finally runs out."

"That's not going to happen," he said, injecting more confidence into his voice than he actually felt. "This is one debt on which you'll never collect. I'm a businessman too, you see. I know how to structure my contracts so I come out ahead."

Master Mirror shrugged. "You're hardly the first merchant I've dealt with," he said. "And you couldn't afford any of this bravado when you first met me, begging for scraps of bread in the rain. How quickly you all forget the magnitude of what you owe me. I've given you everything you could ever wish for. But it's never enough for any of you, because in the end the only thing that matters to you… is you."

His smile grew wider. "If you really appreciated everything I've done for you, you'd jump at the chance to repay your debt. Instead I must invoke the emergency clauses, dragging it out of you like wringing blood from a stone. This could all be so much simpler if you'd just accept your fate."

"If our positions were reversed, would you make such a concession?" He pushed off the balcony railing and strode back over to the table, sitting down in his chair. "I promise you, Master Mirror. I will deny you your prize for as long as I live. If you wanted things to be simple, you should have chosen someone else."

"Very well, then." Gaunter O'Dimm walked past him, stopping at the door and sparing one last glance over his shoulder. "I'd hoped we could resolve this like gentlemen. Now you will see what happens when you try to cheat me."

Houvenaghel turned to rebut him, but he was already gone.

"So then," said Mistle looking out over their new campsite, miles away from yesterday's slaughter. "Here we are again."

Tomen had been tied to another tree, still beaten all to hell. She was flanked by Ciri and Syanna, while the rest of the gang stood in a semicircle around them.

"I told you," he said, staring fearfully at them. "I wasn't the one who brought this down on you. I came to warn you of danger, not put myself right in the middle of it!"

"Yet when I found you running through the woods, your bonds had been severed, and you had left before the attack even began," said Syanna. "If I hadn't seen your tracks leading from the tent, I may not have caught up to you at all."

"How did you notice that?" asked Horace. "Seems odd that you'd be up and about when everyone else was asleep."

She turned around and crossed her arms. "Better question: how did he escape on your watch? You were supposed to guard him."

"I was taking a piss," he said. "Figured he wasn't going anywhere. Scouts must have been watching, waiting for an opportunity, because as soon as I got back he was gone."

Tomen opened his mouth to respond, but no words came forth. Mistle narrowed her eyes.

"However this happened, the Red Razors are dead now. He stands to be more useful to us alive."

"How's that?" asked Sheana.

"If we learn who sent him, we can employ the same trick in reverse," said Ciri, walking around the tree in a circle. "Stage an ambush of our own. And I have a fairly good idea who it was."

"Houvenaghel," said Keira. "Everything in this province leads back to him."

He stared at them, utterly perplexed. "What? Houvenaghel? I've never met the man."

"But you've surely had contact with his subordinates," the sorceress replied. "Someone who could have convinced you to help stage such an attack."

"The only man I know who worked for Houvenaghel was Caelan, and I planned on claiming the bounty for him. If I were really interested in ambushing you, why would I come warning you of danger? I learned your location easily enough with some good old fashioned tracking. Why talk to you at all if I was just going to betray you? Why not join the raiding party myself?"

"I'm curious how you tracked a group containing two witchers, a former Scoia'tael soldier, and a sorceress through fresh snow," said Ciri. "All by yourself, even. You must be good at this."

"In fairness, he is," said Stephanos. "And if I may vouch for the man, he's not the sort to pull a scheme like this."

"Then how the fuck did they find us?" Mistle shouted, whirling around. "Sheana and Faloanthír were supposed to be on watch around the time they attacked. What happened?"

"It's because we were that they didn't slash all our throats in our sleep," said Sheana. "But it all happened so fast, and there were dozens of them. They came in from all directions. I've no idea how that large of a force managed to sneak up on us in the middle of the night."

"And where were you two?" asked the elf. "You didn't show up until after the brawl had begun."

"That's not important." She turned back towards Tomen. "From now on, we double the guard around him. Don't let him out of your sight. Syanna, I know you don't like doing grunt work, but…"

"Oh, don't worry," she said, crossing her arms and stepping closer. "It would be my pleasure."

"Sheana, you help her." She grumbled. "The rest of you, make sure we have a secure perimeter. That means traps, alarms, patrols, that sort of thing."

"Why don't we just kill him?" asked Lambert. "It'd be a lot easier than keeping two guards on him."

Mistle shrugged. "Like I said, he could still be useful."

"And if it's security you're worried about, I have spells that I can cast," said Keira. "Honestly I'd have done it earlier if you felt the need for it. If anyone gets within a hundred yards of the campsite, I'll know about it."

"Not a bad idea."

"I promise you, I wasn't responsible for this," said Tomen. "But that won't be the end of it. Whoever sent them, if they found you once they'll do it again. And again, and again, until you're dead. You should be focusing on the real danger here."

"Yes, this Onyx Squadron of yours," said Ciri. "Yet it wasn't them who attacked us. And whoever was behind it has learned what we're capable of. I don't think they'll be quite so reckless the next time. Which means you should tell us the rest of what you know. Right now."

"I've told you everything," he said. "You have to believe me."

"No we don't." Her pupils flared and started to glow bright green. "You're hiding something still. I can sense it. And we have plenty of time to figure out what it is."

He said nothing in response, recoiling away from the intensity of her glare.

"Untie him," said Mistle. "Take him back to camp and keep a close eye on him. We'll get him to talk." She leaned in closer. "One way or another."

Once the prisoner had been taken back to camp and securely locked up, Lambert and Keira set to work securing the perimeter. They walked in a wide circle around the camp, with Keira focusing on setting her alarm spell while Lambert set traps of a more physical nature. When that was complete, they found a quiet spot in the woods to talk.

"I don't like this," he said bluntly, crossing his arms and staring at the camp. "I've gotten involved in some pretty shady things to protect Ciri, but this just might take the cake."

Keira shrugged. "We'll not convince her to abandon these folk. And they're not so bad. I got a new protégé out of the deal."

"Whereas all I've got to work with is what passes for swordplay these days," he replied. "Gotta admit, though: they held their own. We might just be able to pull this off."

"That's the spirit," she said, patting him on the cheek as she walked around him in a circle. "I've been trying to come up with a plan for how to distribute the cure, once we've gotten rid of the only man with the infrastructure to reliably do so. The only answer I can come up with is to let the Empire know it's there."

"You still care about that?"

"It's a monumental accomplishment," said Keira. "A cure for the Catriona, a disease that's ravaged the world for more than five years. That's the sort of legacy I'd like to leave behind. I don't care about getting paid for it; I've got enough money stored away to last me five of my lifetimes. But it's one good thing that I was able to achieve after years of making bad decisions. I can't just give up on it."

"That's assuming he wasn't just blowing smoke up your ass. For all we know he didn't even make the stuff."

"I may not be in it for the money, but any businessman who's achieved what he has doesn't just pass up this sort of opportunity. Besides, I checked before our meeting with him. It's all in a warehouse on the outskirts of the city. All I ask is that we leave that off our list of things to burn."

He shrugged. "Fair enough." Scanning the forest, he narrowed his eyes and frowned. "Let's head back."

"So where is it you come from?" Viola asked as she and the elven sage travelled along the road, with only the horses they'd stolen from Kravenoff's gang to keep them company. "Most elves I know of live in the North, near the Blue Mountains. The Emperor gave them that territory as a reward for helping out in the war."

"I'm not from anywhere you would have heard of," said Ya'vanasha. "And I don't belong to the Aen Seidhe elves. I'm one of the Aen Elle, the Alder Folk."

"What's the difference?"

"Thousands of years ago we were the same people," she revealed. "The Aen Undod. Then the Conjunction of the Spheres happened, and my kind went off in search of other worlds. We found one that suited us, and occasionally we visit this one. Or at least we used to."

"Are you stranded here?"

Ya'vanasha shook her head, still staring straight down the path. "Not exactly. I have the means to find my way back, but I have business in this world. There's someone I must find."

"And this someone happens to be Leisl?"

"If what you've told me about her is true, then yes. The Elder Blood belongs to the Aen Elle. It was stolen from us by humans, and that has wrought centuries of madness and misfortune among its descendants. This girl is dangerous, and I seek to bring her under control."

Craning her neck back, Viola stared at the back of her head. "You're more forthcoming than I expected."

"Are you accustomed to dragging the truth out of people?"

"If I have an entire evening and some booze it's usually not so difficult," she admitted. "But elves have a reputation for being secretive. They especially don't trust humans."

"And yet I was the one who proposed the idea of a partnership," she replied. "You should let go of your preconceived notions about the world and the people in it. You'll live longer."

Viola shrugged. "Okay, then. Do you want to set up camp for the night? It'll be dark in a couple hours."

"Darkness isn't a problem for me."

"Well it is for the horses," she said. "And we've been riding them all day. We should let them rest."

The elf was silent for a minute or two. "It's just a little further. I have something I must do, and I must be in a specific spot to do it. We should get there just after nightfall."

"Lead on, then."

As promised, they arrived at some elven ruins just after nightfall. They were remarkably preserved, not that Viola could see much of them even with the tip of Ya'vanasha's staff glowing like a torch. The ruined husks of marble structures towered over them like ancient monoliths, a reminder that this world was much, much older than humanity.

The entire complex radiated outwards from a domed structure in the middle, which had long ago been split by a large crack, which dwarfed both of them by comparison. Viola stared up at it, curiously.

"What is this place?"

"An old communications array," said Ya'vanasha. "Between this world and that of the Aen Elle. On solstices the Aen Seidhe would commune with us, when the veil between worlds was at its thinnest. That's as much as the scholars of this world have been able to figure out, anyway. But it has another function."

"Which is?"

"Come with me and find out."

They traveled deeper into the structure, and soon darkness was all around them, staved off only barely by light from the staff. The floor felt uneven, and she looked down to discover that the entire place was covered in ancient runes.

"Stay close to me."

She obeyed, and a minute later Ya'vanasha stopped, striking her staff against the ground, where it fit perfectly into a small hole. The elf uttered a brief incantation, which echoed and resonated throughout the chamber, as though spoken by more than one person. The runes on her staff began to glow a brilliant white, and the light spread out from that point, illuminating the entire structure. She spun around, admiring it all.

"Holy shit."

"See, the infrastructure of this world runs deeper than most people realize, even the surviving Aen Seidhe," she remarked, her voice continuing to reverberate throughout the space. "This was all built as a way of keeping the worlds connected, even after the Conjunction of the Spheres. With it, one can send a message beyond the veil."

She squinted with one eye closed "So why am I here? You hired me as your guide, but I don't know anything about all this."

"I selected you because you've lain with the girl I seek," said Ya'vanasha, moving her hands in a practiced gesture, causing symbols made of light to dance in a pattern around the glowing staff. "Which makes you a useful component for this divination ritual."

"You're not going to spill my blood all over an altar, are you?"

She laughed. "I'm not a village witch who needs frog tongues or spring water collected under a full moon. I am an elven sage, able to draw the Power from my very surroundings. Your presence here is enough for the spell to work. Just stay where you are, and hold your questions until it's over."

Viola obeyed, watching as Ya'vanasha's hands traced runes in the air which flared and pulsed with a life of their own. The structure surrounding them glowed bright, and she stared around in wonder.

The elf continued to recite an incantation, moving around the staff in a circle. The light gleamed ever brighter, and soon she had to cover her eyes to avoid going blind. More voices were added to the chorus, and the ritual began to reach a fever pitch. Just as it became overwhelming, all sound ceased, and the light died. There was a brief pause before a beam of light surged upwards from the ground, shooting off into the night sky. Both of them stared up after it until it disappeared.

"What the hell was that supposed to do?"

Ya'vanasha chuckled. "You'll find out. Come on, then. Let's take shelter for the night."

"So," said Emelie once they had finished setting up camp. "Am I the only one wondering why we're still heading to Claremont after—and I can't be the only one who heard this—the man we're supposed to be seeking aid from sent someone to kill us?"

"Technically they wanted to gang-rape me and drag me in for a reward," said Leisl. "This Houvenaghel might not even be aware that we need his help to set our trap. According to this Matthias fellow, all he really knows is that a few of his men are dead thanks to us."

Amandine shook her head. "General Voorhis promised he would make the local powers aware of our mission, and all of them answer to Houvenaghel."

"She has a point though," said Daxyl. "Their mission wasn't to kill anyone. I suspect those brigands saw a way of killing two birds with one stone and scoring an extra payday. The violence only came about because someone started slinging arrows at them."

Rosalind shrugged. "Was I supposed to just let them take her?"

"Of course not. But there's always more than one solution to a problem."

"Not from where I was standing."

"Enough," said Amandine. "This doesn't change the plan. If anything, it gives us extra leverage. Men like Houvenaghel generally charge a king's ransom for this sort of assistance, especially since our mission is supposed to remain secret from His Imperial Majesty. This will shift the balance back in our favor."

They all nodded in agreement.

"I'm still wondering who this Regis fellow was," said Emelie. "He appeared out of nowhere, you said?"

Leisl nodded. "He said the ravens had been watching me for him, and he was sent by that mysterious woman, Scheherazade."

"Right. Who the hell is she again?"

"All I know is that she saved me from destroying everything around me, including myself. In exchange she and I made a pact. I'm to help her with some grand purpose involving the Elder Blood, though she hasn't deigned to tell me what that is yet."

"I wouldn't worry about it for now," said Rosalind. "But we'll be here to support you when the time comes."

"You might be," replied Emelie. "As for me, it depends on what the task is."

"Why am I not surprised?"

A shrug. "Sorry, I'm just not personally invested in her like you are. But hey, if it involves something exciting, I might do it just for the thrill."

"At any rate, we're only a few days from Claremont," said Amandine. "Let's just stay focused on the task in front of us."

They whiled away the rest of the evening around the fire, talking deep into the night. Leisl kept scanning the trees, looking for ravens. Eventually they retired to their tents, and went to sleep. None of them were watching the sky.

If they had, they might have noticed the ghostly retinue that trailed across the heavens, passing briefly in front of the moon.

"Hey," said Ciri once it was dark, and she and Mistle were alone. "Can I talk to you about something?"

They were standing in a clearing a few dozen yards from the campsite, gazing at the stars. Mistle had been distant since the attack, during the moments when she wasn't busy giving orders or standing around looking authoritative, trying to hide her fear. Ciri knew her too well to be fooled by it.

"What is it?"

"It's been two days since the battle," she said. "And you know I trust you with my life. But Tomen was right. We're going to be facing a lot more fights like that. I need to know that you'll be able to hold it together." She frowned. "I know what it's like to not have control. To feel like you could sunder the whole world if you had the opportunity."

Mistle reared her head back. "Do you now? I know what you went through when you drew from that fire, but that's nothing compared to the thirst I felt. But in the end it didn't consume me. I'm stronger than that. I've always been able to keep my bloodlust on a leash, even before I was brought back as a vampire."

"I know." She grabbed the back of the other woman's head and brought their foreheads together. "It's just I can't help fearing that O'Dimm made you more of a monster than you were before. And that's fine! I'm a monster too. Just promise me you won't lose yourself to it."

"You know I'd never hurt you."

Ciri shook her head, and they separated. "That's not what I'm worried about. I'm not even worried about the rest of the gang, but Mistle… we can't solve all our problems by ripping everything in our way to shreds. That's how we got in this mess to begin with."

"Why not? It seems to be working so far."

She chuckled. "You're right. Forget I said anything."

"Hey." Mistle grabbed her by the shoulders and held her at arms length. "You're only a monster because I made you one. If I hadn't come along, you'd never have killed that man who tried to pull you off your horse. You'd not have threatened to ravage that baron's daughter. I couldn't see back then what kind of influence I was having on you. But I'm not sorry, because without me you would never have discovered who you really are."

Frowning, Ciri turned away.

"Can you honestly say I didn't save you from a life of boredom? You know where you were headed before we killed those trappers who took you prisoner? Your own father wanted to marry and impregnate you. With my help you found the killer inside you and set it loose. No more heroics, no more pretensions of a normal life. You can't say you're not better off."

"A normal life wouldn't be so bad," she replied, softly. "And you didn't make me a monster. I decided that on my own. All things considered though, there's nowhere I'd rather be right now than here with you."

She grinned. "Glad to hear it."

They embraced, and Ciri stared up at the sky, where she could see a series of specters passing in front of the moon. Her face went pale and she inhaled sharply, slipping out of Mistle's grasp. The other woman glanced at her curiously, then turned her gaze to the sky as well.

"What is that, you suppose?"

"I don't need to suppose," said Ciri. "Damn it all, I thought this would end when we destroyed Eredin."

"Ciri, what are you talking about? What is that?"

"You've never seen the Wild Hunt before? I told you what they did to me, what they wanted of me. I thought after they were defeated they wouldn't come back to this world, but I guess some things never change."

Mistle grabbed her hand. "Do you want to run?"

"No. Setting aside the fact that they'd find me instantly if I used my powers, if they meant to capture me they wouldn't be parading across the sky like that. For now, they don't know where I am. But we shouldn't let our guard down."

"Why are they here, then?"

"According to peasant superstition, the Wild Hunt appears in the sky as an omen, foretelling a great war or tragedy." She scowled. "Usually inflicted by them. If they do find us, I'm not sure we can stop them."

Mistle shrugged. "Like you said, Eredin and his generals are dead. And as far as they're concerned, so are you. They might not be here for you at all."

"Let's hope that's true," she said, unable to take her eyes off the ghostly cavalcade. Eventually, the Wild Hunt faded from sight, and Mistle led her by the hand to their tent, where she lay awake, wondering exactly what sort of misfortune was set to befall them.

The folds of the tent parted, and Horace entered carrying a bottle of wine. Sheana flashed him a brief smile, while Syanna regarded him with a neutral expression. Tomen, arms tied behind his back, looked up briefly to acknowledge him, then went back to staring at the ground.

"Here to relieve you," he informed them. "My turn to stand watch."

Syanna nodded towards his hands. "Then what's the wine for?"

"Oh, this?" He held it up to examine it. "Just something to pass the time. You want some?"

"I'll pass."

He shrugged and set it down on the ground.

"I'll take some," said Sheana. He uncorked it and poured, and she downed it in one large gulp. Syanna glared at her in mild disgust. "What?"

"Did no one teach you how to appreciate wine? You need to let it breathe first." Taking the bottle, she poured it into a glass, swilling it around for a bit. "Like this."

She brought it up to her nose, inhaling briefly, then passed it to the other woman. "Try it now."

Taking another sip, more slowly this time, Sheana reeled briefly before composing herself and nodding vigorously. "That does make a difference."

Horace cracked a smirk. "You know your wines."

"I grew up in Toussaint," she replied. "I've had enough experience with wine to last a lifetime."

"That why you left? Must have some reason for hanging around a bunch of brigands."

She rolled her eyes, but offered no rebuttal.

"She got banished when she was young," said Sheana, guzzling more of the wine, which already seemed to be loosening her tongue. "Ended up becoming the leader of an entire hanse. Then they all got killed by vampires."

He glanced between them. "Any of that true?"

"More or less."

"Must've been rough," he said. "I can see why that would lead someone to a life of banditry. Me, my wife and children got killed by the Black Ones. Took my bow and hunted down the unit that did it, one by one. Then when there was no one left to take revenge on, I got invited to join the Rats. Makes me wonder if that was always how my life was supposed to go."

Syanna groaned and reached for the bottle. "I'm too sober for this conversation."

She didn't bother filling up a glass, taking a long swig directly from the bottle, wiping off her lips when she was done. Tomen looked between them.

"Do I get any of that?"

All three of them turned to glare, saying nothing. He shrunk back.

"Every one of us has some kind of sob story that explains why we do this," said Syanna. "None of it means a damned thing. People are hard-wired to search for patterns in everything, and we try to justify the decisions we make by claiming it was always meant to be, as if there's a single defining moment that made us who we are. The truth is, we decided this path for ourselves. No matter what happened to us before. There's always a choice."

Raising a finger, Sheana opened her mouth to respond, but only gibberish came out. She looked vaguely dazed, and looked down towards the wine bottle, then at Horace, before falling over, unconscious.

"Well," he said with a curious lack of emotion. "Someone can't handle their alcohol."

Despite her best efforts, Syanna began to wobble as the world around her spun out of control. "What's… in this…?" She held up the bottle, as though it would spring to life and provide her with the answer. It said nothing.

Alarmed, she staggered to her feet, walking past him and bursting out of the tent, only to fall flat on her face in the snow. There was a soft thud, and then silence. Horace unsheathed a knife.

Tomen's eyes widened in fear. "I didn't tell them anything. Just like you wanted."

"Oh, I'm aware." He moved closer, kneeling down beside him. "It's too bad the assault failed, but at least you remembered to keep your mouth shut. I suppose there's always next time."

"Next time? I agreed to do this once, as a favor to an old friend. If lightning strikes twice, who do you think they're gonna blame? You should let me go free. Better yet, we should make our escape together. We can tell Houvenaghel where they are, and make sure we're nowhere near the chaos when it all goes down."

"Well see, that's where our viewpoints diverge," said Horace. "You're an excellent tracker, but this gang has two witchers, a sorceress, and a former Scoia'tael. They'd find us in hours. Make mincemeat of us. I'm not that stupid. Are you?"

"Why did you even approach me in the first place? Why turn against your own comrades like that?"

"That's just it," he said, brandishing the knife back and forth, twirling it in his hands. "They were never really my comrades. Not by any choice of my own, anyway. It was all Gaunter O'Dimm, and that damn wish." He glanced over his shoulder at Syanna's boots. "She does have a point, though. We humans have a bad habit of justifying things to ourselves. That story about my family, for instance. That's how I wish things had gone."

He scowled. "But it's not what really happened."

Tomen stared at him, confused.

"See, I caught my wife in the stables one day with a Sergeant from the Black Infantry," he said. "Once I'd hobbled him with an arrow through the kneecap, she revealed to me the truth: my children weren't actually mine. They were his."

Horace chuckled darkly. "'You're never home,' she told me. 'Always out hunting and carousing with your mates, never spending time with your family.' Well how could I, when that family wasn't mine to begin with? So I gathered the children, locked them all in the stables, and set fire to the whole thing. If they wanted to be a family so bad, let them burn as one."

Staring at him incredulously, Tomen shook his head. "You could have just left them. You didn't have to kill them all."

"And yet I did. It's the same reason I haven't simply gone my separate way with this gang. If all it took was a wish to bind my fate to theirs, then I can't just leave. They must cease to exist. Only then will I be free."

"Well you saw what happened. If a hundred raiders can't bring them down, what hope do you possibly have?"

He shrugged, examining the knife in the soft glow provided by the lantern light. "Very little, I'll admit that. But they've no reason to suspect me. Especially not once you mysteriously vanish."

"So you are letting me go?"

"In a way."

Before he could respond, the knife was already buried in his neck, splashing blood onto Sheana's unconscious form. Tomen gurgled and died, the light draining quickly from his eyes. Horace looked over the scene dispassionately, then scowled.

"Better clean up this mess."

It took ten minutes and some awkward footsteps over Syanna's unconscious body, but he found a suitable spot for the burial. When all was said and done, he returned to his tent, and laid down. He slept perfectly fine.