.XI. Whispers of Silence.
'Down, at the center of it all, we are our worst foe...'
The front side of the troop began to run, as soon as the beast burst out of the sand.
As for Gerd, he fell from quite a height, between two dunes, rolling to the bottom of them, while the digger went under the sand again. The witcher had lost conscience from the impact with the sand, laying, half buried.
When he regain consciousness, it was close to sunset, grunting as he dug himself out of the sand. Gladly, he had his swords on his back, but, he lost his knife, crossbow, armor, horse and the people who knew how to navigate the damned desert. So, he was on his own, as always.
As soon as he revised his plan and the left belongings, he climbed the dunes, hard to do, when you climb something that moves under you, well that is sand, one big middle finger to the witcher. Anyway, when he eventually reached the top of the dune, he saw more of those like him, that fell victim to the sand worm. The only difference was the those he noticed were dead or half dead. It seemed that the middle of the group was attacked as well. That meant that Galodo, could be dead or alive and managed to escape the zerrikanians, but the second part was a bit hard to believe. There was no sign of the rest of the group, as they probably advanced or split to cover more ground if Galodo escaped their grasp. No markers to the east or in any other direction.
Gerd slid down the dune where he previously saw a saddle poking out of the sand, on which he hoped to find some supplies, water at least.
The saddle had in one pocket a water canteen half full, one that Gerd took, as in the current situation water was essential and he also found some dried meat. As he advanced east, he kept collecting, from cloth to more water and food, to a few knives and even a bow and a few arrows.
'What ?!', reacted the older man, quite astonished of what the young boy just spoke of. Turning his head toward him, pushing his eyeglasses up with his index finger.
'The pouch of coins...lost...I have.'.
'Where ? When ? How ?!'.
'Near the fish market, a bird took it-'.
'A bird...'.
'Yes.'.
'A bird ?'.
The younger man nodded his head quickly.
'Bird ?', repeated the old man, giving the young man a long, metal like stare.
'Yes, a bird, haven't you heard me ?'.
The old fart, held back on his pride and then responded, calmly. Looking back at his book he had placed on the table, moved his eyeglasses down near the tip of his nose, continuing what he was previously doing.
'No, just doubtful.', he said, glancing over the pages of the book he held now in his left hand.
'You have me as a liar ?'.
'No, but you did it, just now. So, I assume the bird stealing the pouch of coins I gave you must be a lie too...'.
'It isn't.'.
'Listen, I've been in this house for more than three decades. And not once ! Not even once, have I been robbed by a fuckin' bird.', replied the older one, looking back at his assistant.
'But-'.
'No buts ! What will the master of this house say if she learns of your incompetence ? Do you think she'll believe your excuse about a bird that's stealing coin pouches ?', the old butler paused for a bit, looking at his help, who's face indicated a 'maybe she will', 'No, she won't !', replied angrily the old man, standing up from his bergère.
'Now I have to fix what you so stupidly messed up, young man, you should be ashamed of yourself. If you needed coins to buy something for yourself, you should've asked me for it. Not steal from the one that puts bread on our table !'.
'But...'.
'Young man ! I advise you to not say one more word, for I will strike you. What you just did is a terrible act of selfishness. That coin was not yours to spend. If the master learns of this we could be thrown in the street or worse, be hanged by the neck until death. Only, because of you.', said the butler pointing his index finger towards the young man. after that, he arranged his hair, of which he had only a bit, and took a straight pose.
'I, will go back to the market to buy the fish. While I'm away, you will clean the house. I want to find everything spotless upon my return, understood ?'.
'Yes, sir.'.
'Good. I will be back in approximatively one hour.', continued the older one, after which he grabbed his cane and hat, heading towards the door.
The butler opened the door only to see a cat-eyed tall man. With a scar on his nose bridge and one above his left eye, with his face covered by a thick beard, and surrounded by long brown oily hair. Wearing armor, that was covered by a black rugged cloak and who was carrying two swords on his back. With one hand lifted, ready to knock.
'Can I help you, sir ?', asked the butler with a tone that indicate a somewhat surprise, peppered with disgust.
'Yes, I'm looking for the master of this house, Claire Siggmariggen.'.
'She is not home at this moment. May I, ask why ?'.
'One of her associates mentioned that she had a contract for me.'.
'As I said previously, she is not home at this moment. Could you come back later ?'.
'I could. Although, you could also tell me where she is at this moment ?'.
'I, don't know for sure. As I don't know everything she does, it seems...', responded the butler, looking away at the end of the sentence.
'What does she do ? Now honestly, you an obvious versed house servant, doesn't know where his master is at ? Do you think I'm that easily fooled ?'.
'Sir, I can notice from your...Rugged aspect that you are a vagabond, and I'm not going to let you stain the reputation that my master had so hardly build-'.
'I told you one of her associates sent me here, for she has a contract-'.
'Excuse me, but I find that hard to believe. My master wouldn't spend a mere second in a room with someone such as yourself. So, no !', continued the butler, trying to walk passed the door jamb, but, was stopped by Gerd.
'Fine. I will come back later. However, if you tell me again that she is not home. I will, and be sure of it, cut if needed, through you and any one that stands in my way to get to see her. Got it ?'.
The butler gulped some spit down his throat, then adopted his straight pose, walked out the door, which he closed with a key, that he so evidently showed to the witcher. Then walked down the stairs in front of the house and down the street, murmuring something. 'Imbecile...Mutant...Not a mere sign of respect nor manners...'.
The vagabond, turned and walked away from the door, on the opposite direction the butler did. Heading toward a tavern up the same street. But as he passed an intersection of two streets, a woman's voice called his name.
'Excuse me. Gerd, the witcher ?'.
He turned back and looked at the woman that spoke his name. She was his employer, Claire Siggmariggen. Who, according to the messenger, had work for him, one with a rather generous reward.
'Yes.', responded the witcher.
'Claire Siggmariggen, pleased to meet you.', she said with a slight bow of her head.
'Same.'.
'I must apologize, for I forgot that you'd visit this morning, I had a couple of errands to take care of. Anyhow, I'm glad I caught you here. Come, we'll talk the details at my house. I suppose you've been there already ?'.
'As a matter of fact, I was. But, I have been send back where I came from by your butler.'.
'Vincentius. He's very strict of who he let's inside the house.'.
'I've noticed.'.
The recent widow, Claire Siggmariggen, was quite a true example of a high-born-noble-woman, given by her looks, gestures, linguistics, even the way she walked. She was an intelligent woman, she knew what and how, when and where. She was like a book, awaiting to be read. Wearing a long black dress, very elegant, with certain golden ornamentations around her shoulders and neck, they were continued down on her waist and the sides of the dress. Which perfectly reflected her status and personality, it combined well with her long blonde hair. Which slid down her shoulders and back.
'He's been rather overprotective since my husband's death.'.
'If I heard right, you need no such protection.'.
'You heard right. We have a lot of common friends, it seems.', responded the noble woman, smiling.
'I'd say so.'.
Soon they've reached the house. The woman walked up the stairs and opened the door, then Gerd followed her inside.
'Please, come in. Mortdecai, we have a guest, prepare some aperitifs and bring a bottle of wine. I will be back shortly, my servant will show you to the next room. Mortdecai...'.
'Yes mam. Sir, this way.'.
'Good.', responded the madam, master of the house.
Gerd followed the young servant through a room, with a great table, decorated with paintings and trophies from antlers to tusks of boars and elephants from Zangvebar, then he kept following him to a smaller chamber.
He sat down on a armchair at a small table, while the young servant brought the aperitifs.
While the lady of the house, went upstairs to leave a few of the things she was holding in her right hand.
Several minutes later, she joined the witcher and sat across the table. The young servant brought a bottle of wine and placed it on the table then he stepped back and adopted a straight position, with his left arm behind his back.
'Mortdecai, leave us.', said Claire, pouring herself a glass of wine.
'Yes mam.'.
'Please, help yourself. The wine is exquisite.'.
'I rather have us talk about the job I'm to do for you.'.
'Right...', she said, after which she placed the glass of wine on the table.
'I need you for this job because I heard you are a good tracker, bounty-hunter, and have many other qualities that make you the best choice. Also due the high praises you received from our mutual friend, Erik.'.
'As you know my late husband, Hector, died few weeks ago. Yet, I have reasons to believe his death was not natural. Unlike all the doctors on this side of the Pontar claim it to be, a normal death due his feeble heart conditions. A week ago, I hired a mage from Temeria to examine his body and she found traces of poison in his system. That only confirmed the theories I had, that someone wanted my husband dead. And I strongly believe that the men or women responsible for this may try to murder me as well.'.
'Any suspects ?'.
'Many. Several of them, I might call friends, but, that won't cloud my judgement. Here.', Claire slid one piece of paper in front of the witcher. 'A list with all the names of those I suspect. I want you to find the ones responsible and take care of them.'.
'Good. But, are there chances I could speak with the mage ?'.
'Yes, she's still in Novigrad, resides in a building near the eastern gate, owned by me, at the second floor. Her name is Keira Metz.'.
'Alright. I think it's time I was on my way...', said Gerd, standing up.
'Wait, here.', responded the lady, handing the witcher a key. 'You clearly need a bath, a good bed and a good rest. Do that, before you start your investigation. It is in the same building Keira is, third floor, second door.'.
'Thanks.'.
'You could, if it pleases you, to stay a bit more...I would enjoy the company, I so rarely have someone to talk to nowadays. Have a drink or something to eat.'.
'I really-'.
'Oh. Nonsense ! You're my guest, I can't let you wonder the streets of Novigrad with an empty belly. Please, stay for lunch. Come, follow me to the dining chamber.'. Gerd did as his host insisted and followed her to the big room he entered first on his way to the one he was in previously.
'Mortdecai. Bring us some food.'.
'Yes mam.', answered the young man from the next room.
They both sat down on the far end of the table, the closest side to the kitchen. Lady Claire sat at the end of the table, and the witcher on her left side.
'I've heard you've looked for a ship that will go to Skellige, after you finish the job I have for you.'.
'I am.'.
'For what reason ? I have plenty of other stuff you could take care of. Here in Novigrad.'.
'Visit some old friends.'.
'I guess they'll be very happy to see you.'.
'Those still alive, yes.'.
'I feel some nostalgia in your voice.'.
'I guess, there have been some years since the last time I've been there.'.
'Hmm. I know the feeling so well, you see, I was born and raised in Kovir. I came to Novigrad after I married my husband, Hector, and since then I haven't been back home...I miss it dearly. Of course my parents and sister would visit. But, that still doesn't make this feel like home. No matter how much I change it in order to make it look and feel like home. In truth, it still isn't.'.
'At least it is something...'.
The lady showed a smile regarding the witcher's recent words.
'It seems like we could have a good and long talk, doesn't it ?'.
'It does seems so.'.
The two shared some stories. As both had some mutual friends, connections in the underworld, things that provided some very interesting tales. Between a noble-born-woman and a monster slayer, a vagabond, a witcher.
'When is the next ship leaving for the isles ?'.
'In several weeks from now. The routes to the Islands have been reduced due the presence of some pirate ships in the area.'.
'Well, that means you have some time to explore the city of Novigrad and it's vast outskirts...'.
'Yes, plenty.', responded Gerd, smiling.
'Oh. Thank you, Mortdecai.'.
The young man arranged the food on the table, the silverware, he placed the careful cut slices of bread and opened a bottle of wine, while the two were chatting.
The guest and the host, began to eat the delicious lunch served by the young servant.
Not long after, the old butler returned home with the fish he bought from the market. Hanged his cane and hat, and walked towards the kitchen. That's when he noticed that half of the chores he gave the young Mortdecai were left unfinished, so he walked to the dining chamber from where he heard the sound of silverware hitting on the porcelain plates. And from where he surprisingly heard the laughs of his master and of another, a male. He took his usual straight back position and entered the room.
'Mam, sir...', he then looked around for his help, Mortdecai, and as soon as he saw him, he indicated with his left hand's index finger, pointing so aggressively to the floor, to move his bottom there as quick as possible.
'Yes-'.
'What is he doing in the house !?', he angrily whispered, between his teeth.
'The lady let him in.'.
'Wha- Why ?'.
'From what I deduced so far, she has some work for him.'.
The butler puffed, gathering his left hand fingers into a fist, and moved his forearm behind his back. Then walked past them as they were eating, to the kitchen with his fish in the right hand.
...
'Lady Claire, thank you for your hospitality.'.
'No need to thank me. You're an interesting guest to have.'.
The witcher got up from the table, and followed by his host, headed towards the door.
'So long.'.
'I'll see you soon.', replied watching as Gerd stepped down the stairs in front of the house.
He then advanced on to the side of the street, heading to the other side of the city. He was eager to get a very much deserved bath and a good night's rest, after which he planned to visit the mage, to ask her about the poison she'd found in Hector's corpse.
Soon, he reached the building he was to stay in during the time he searches for the one that committed the deed. On his way to the third floor he looked for the room Keira was in, just to know. As he approached the door he started to have a bad feeling. Thus, when he was only steps away from the room he heard some noises of glass breaking and tables rolling. He immediately grabbed the door knob and pushed the door open, with one hand and the other on the grip of his steel sword.
The room seemed pretty trashed, draperies pulled down, a broken table, books all over the floor, a vase that held a hand of flowers, more exactly tulips and daisies, shattered. Shards from the glasses of wine laying broken on the floor, few tankards here and there. From all that he assumed something did happen. But, as Gerd advanced further inside the mage's flat, he noticed a few drops of blood near a door jamb leading to another room, one of the door's hinges was broken. The blood was fresh, the only thing he hoped for was for it to not be Keira's. He heard a sound of a something, big, hitting the wall, a deep bang, on the wall on the right side from the door.
Gerd kicked through the broken door, sword in hand, ready to slice the intruder. But, it was no need for such intervention from the witcher, as the mage held a long knife in both hands, with which she had stabbed the attacker, who was leaning on the floor with his back against the wall, bleeding from his upper abdomen.
Keira, left the grip of the blade from her hands as she was still looking at her attacker, then she addressed the witcher.
'Who're you ? And what do you want ?', she asked, having her hands on her hips, still looking at the man that tried to kill her, then moved her eyes off the dying man and looked at the one that entered through the door in such a hurry, 'Don't answer, I already know.'.