The smell of burnt flesh wafted around the city walls as they approached. The road to the gates was framed by wooden stakes with charred bodies strapped to them. The sight made Kain sick.
Geralt scowled. "Eternal Fire," he murmured. "With the mages gone, they took to the next best thing – non-humans."
The sight made Ciri ashamed of the human race. And yet, she was grateful it was not her Yennefer up there. Ciri hoped the sorceress had been able to keep herself safe.
Ciri adjusted her hood to conceal her hair better as they rode through the gates of Novigrad.
"Dandelion's Inn?" she asked Geralt.
"Yes. Let's take the shortest road."
Ciri and Geralt rode with Kain following. Some people watched him curiously – no one rode a horse without a saddle or bridle on their memory or habits. Seeing two swords on him, however, calmed some of their curiosity. After all, everybody knew witchers to be freaks. It was merely a matter of how much of a freak could one of them be.
ROSEMARY AND THYME met them with a lively crowd; courtesans strolled among the selection of guests who held glasses of wine and mead and whiskey.
"Dandelion! Get our best wine! We have guests!" Zoltan walked to them, his arms spread as he grinned, laughing heartily.
"Geralt! Ciri!" Dandelion hurried from behind the counter, grinning happily. "I'm so happy to see you both in one piece."
"What were ye up to?" Zoltan asked.
Geralt glanced at Ciri momentarily, as if for reassurance. "We went after Imlerith and the Crones of Velen. Took care of our unfinished business."
Zoltan nodded with a smile of approval. "That's great news. Ye all need rest now. We'll talk later."
"That must be Kain," Dandelion said, eyeballing Gwyncath. A small cunning smile was tugging at the poet's lips as he cast a gander at Ciri. A knowing smile. He offered a hand to Kain, which the latter accepted. "Nice to meet you. I'm their fr—"
"I know who you are," Kain said, releasing his hand. "I've been to many places where your ballads have been played."
"Oh," Dandelion beamed, and squinted inquisitively. "You like poetry?"
"I like the stories," Kain said. "And how you put them to music."
"That works," Dandelion nodded, and looked at Ciri. "I approve, little bird." He tipped her a wink, grinning like a happy idiot.
Ciri gave Dandelion a sharp glare then looked back over her shoulder at Kain. "Don't believe all his tales. Sometimes he fibs, exaggerates."
Dandelion put a hand to his chest as if she had just wounded him deeply. "How very much dare you?"
She grinned and pulled the poet in for an embrace, which he reciprocated without hesitation.
"Have you any news of Yennefer and Triss? Avallac'h?" she asked once they'd parted.
"The elf is upstairs in my finest room. He simply commandeered it. Was in a foul mood when he arrived with Zoltan."
Yes, Ciri imagined he would be.
"As for Lady Yennefer and company, I believe Zoltan has the details of their whereabouts," Dandelion continued. "But first, please make yourselves at home. We have rooms available for you all."
Geralt glanced at Kain who surveyed the room and the courtesans that had noticed him and were giggling with each other, then gave Dandelion a nod.
"That would be very nice."
"Let me show ye to yer room, lassie," Zoltan said, pointing at the stairs.
"What of Avallac'h?" Geralt asked Dandelion. "Did he say anything?"
"He was in a foul mood, it seems," the poet said, rubbing his chin in thought. "All he said to me was 'I wish to know when Gwynblaidd and Zireael arrive', and then he locked himself in the Ruby suite. I don't even know what he eats or drinks there. He never came out in these few days."
"What of the sorceresses?"
"Triss has been here for a while, I just haven't seen her for a day or three… Not sure. I was busy myself, some important performances and all. As for Yennefer, she said she'd meet you at the KATE'S."
Geralt looked surprised. "In that brothel by the canal? You sure?"
"Yes, yes, I am. She said you'll know why when the time comes."
"I see. Looks like I'll have my hands full."
Dandelion smiled with mock sympathy, patting the Witcher's back. "Good luck, mate."
Ciri took Kain's hand in hers and followed Zoltan up the stairs, ignoring the giggling courtesan that were popping out from every corner.
On the second floor, Zoltan opened the last room on the left. It was quite spacious for a rented room and much prettier than the standard. She supposed Dandelion had been the one to decorate it.
"There are some clothes in the wardrobe," Zoltan said, gesturing to the giant oak closet. "We thought ye might need a change when ye returned from yer adventures."
He winked and turned to face Kain. "What about ye, kitten lad? Are ye stayin' or goin' out to the woods?"
"I'd love to go to the woods," he admitted, "but I don't think I'll do that. Too many guards that would be taking notice."
"Right ye are," Zoltan said. "And our beds are better. Come, I'll give ye a room next to Geralt's."
Ciri gave a small smile as Zoltan led Kain away and stepped into her own assigned room, taking a moment to examine the clothing in the wardrobe. There were at least one set of trousers and a few shirts that would work to her advantage, which was a relief. She was aching to get out of her own crone-infested armor so to have it cleaned.
She changed, adjusted her weapons, then made her way back downstairs to see whether Geralt was going to meet up with Yen at once. She was purposely avoiding Avallac'h.
"Here's the change of clothes for ye, too," Zoltan said waving a hand to the dresser in Kain's room. "Some shirts, nothing fancy, but all nice to have for a fighter. I'll get ye some hot water for a bath when you ready - just say the word."
"Thank you," Kain said, surveying the room, then turned to him. "I'll probably check with Geralt first."
"As ye wish," the dwarf spread his arms in a shrug. "But I'd say all of ye need to rest first."
He left, and Kain strolled around the room, familiarizing himself with it.
Ciri found Geralt downstairs sharing a drink with Dandelion at the bar counter.
"Are you going to meet with Yennefer?" she asked, resting an elbow on the nearest horizontal surface.
"Not before you have a drink!" Dandelion exclaimed, producing a clean glass and pouring her some kind of amber liquid. Glasses were rare. Ciri wondered how he had been able to afford such a luxury.
"I have to talk to Avallac'h first, I would guess," Geralt said, sipping his liquor. "Dandelion says he insisted. Must be something worth hearing out. And you're supposed to be resting, remember?"
"I am resting," she said, spreading her arms in a see-how-relaxed-I-am gesture.
She looked at Dandelion, lifting her glass to her lips.
"Did he say what he wanted?"
Dandelion pulled a deadpan face and drawled, "Let me know when Gwynblaidd and Zireael arrive, I shall see them immediately."
Ciri's lips twitched in a small, amused smile. "That is him, alright."
"I'll take care of it," Geralt said, finishing his drink. "After Yennefer."
"Is she close by?"
"At Crippled Kate's," Geralt said.
She frowned. "The brothel? What on earth would she be doing there?"
"I believe she wants me to find out in person." Geralt shrugged, smiling.
Dandelion chuckled into his brandy.
"Well, try to bring her back here with you," Ciri said. "I should like to see her."
"I'll be sure to do what I can," he promised. "I guess I have to be going. It's quite a walk to Kate's."
He pushed his empty glass to Dandelion with a thanks and got up to head out.
Ciri took Geralt's place when he got up, eyeing the crowded room.
"I see business has picked up."
Dandelion nodded wisely. "People seek comforts in these troubled times. And there has been a lot of trouble in these streets lately."
She thought about the charred corpses they had seen upon entering the city, shuddered and had another sip of her drink.
"But enough of the sad news," Dandelion slapped his palm against the counter and reached for the bottle to refill their glasses. He shot Ciri a cunning look while pouring her a drink. "Tell me about the boy. Zoltan isn't the best story-teller when it comes to fine matters of the heart and soul."
"I think he prefers Kain to boy," she said with a slight smile. "We met on Skellige. He is of the druids and Brokilon. Child of nature and all that. He has agreed to help us fight The Hunt."
"Oh! Child of nature! Raw passion with white hair and two swords! Some fresh blood to pour into the ears of people bleeding for more melodious feelings they would never encounter in their own mediocre lives." Dandelion grinned, his eyes sparkled. "Zoltan said he has a griffin. Is that so?"
She blinked, unable to quite process the brief excited rant the poet had gone off on. "Um, yes. Well, he doesn't own him but they are certainly close. They keep each other company."
"Amazing!" Dandelion exclaimed. "What about you two? How did you meet? I want details."
She squinted suspiciously at him. "I am not going to give you material for new ballads, Dandelion."
Dandelion looked hurt. "No! How could you think so low of me, Ciri? How could I have earned that?"
"Experience," she said with a knowing smile. "I have heard all the ballads about Yennefer and Geralt."
Dandelion squinted with cunning inquiry, "Are you so defensive because there are things between you two already that ballads are made of?"
Ciri pursed her lips, a pink tint to her cheeks. "Of course not. We have only known each other for less than two weeks." She took another sip of her drink and playfully tossed a napkin his way. "And you? Have you any new conquests? Who was it you talked about last I was here? Priscilla?"
Dandelion winced, waving a dismissive hand. "Priscilla, yes. All is good and great between us, but it's old news. Favor my eager, hungry mind with your breath of new, Ciri." His eyes sparkled again as they searched her. "You like him? How did you meet? Did you find him in Skelligan wild forests or caves?"
"We have become friendly," she said, because Kain had said so in his own words. So that was at least one definition she could be certain of. "We first met in the mountains of Skellige. Or rather, I ran into his griffin while he was feeding. It was… an unfortunate situation.
"And later… we continued to meet again and again under the strangest circumstances. After you lot went back here, we stayed together for a few days."
"Oooh, that's exciting!" Dandelion admired, refilling their glasses. "What circumstances? There was some magic? Fate? Destiny that brought you together?"
She could not help but laugh. "Gods, Dandelion, you are practically salivating," she teased, taking a sip. "I don't know what brought us together. But I did dream of him before we ever met. I thought that might be a sign of… something."
Dandelion watched her with eager fascination, ignoring her jibes. "Oh, it certainly means something! You are not just any ordinary girl, Ciri. Your dreams must mean a lot of things.
"What about him, though? He saw you in his dreams?"
She shook her head, trying hard to keep the disappointment out of her expression. "No. Not that I know of. But he knew who I was." She gave Dandelion a look. "Because of your ballads."
Dandelion grinned his most angelic grin and spread his arms in mute apology he didn't really mean.
"People reach out for beauty of magical poetry, it's only natural. He likes you, and my ballads helped. You have no idea how many young people dream of meeting the famous Lion Cub of Cintra. You're a dream of many."
Ciri grimaced because she failed to think of that in any positive context. She downed her glass instead of responding to that and fixed him with her gaze again. "How do you know he likes me?"
Dandelion composed a shocked expression. "How can anyone not like you! It's impossible. Positively impossible."
She snorted. "You would be amazed. Besides, I am not really her anymore, am I? Another took my place."
"It's not about her or anyone else but you - you, the Ciri, a girl brought up by witchers and the famous Geralt of Rivia. You, Ciri, are an amazing girl. He absolutely cannot not like you. It's inevitable. You just don't want to see it. Sometimes you can be as frustrating as your Geralt."
She feigned outrage. "That is a deeply hurtful claim, Dandelion!"
"It's true!" he argued with fake vehemence. "You two can't see what's best for you at times! Thank the gods for my ballads. They can show the way, for they come directly from heavens."
He grinned and drank.
"How are things with him and Yennefer?"
"He doesn't really talk about her much," she said, leaning in a little to lower her voice. "He doesn't remember her, Dandelion. Not much beyond these past few weeks, anyway. He doesn't even truly comprehend she has been a part of my life as well."
Dandelion looked pained, shook his head slowly. "So unfortunate. She better find a way to rectify it. They are meant for each other."
"If anyone can, it's her. Though I doubt she has had much time to think on it lately. The elves intent on ending our world takes priority." And Ciri felt a little guilty about that. She reached forward and took Dandelion's hand, smiling. "Tell me of something that has happened here since I've been away. Something good."
He smiled meekly. "Our life here is a routine. We have performances, we have guests every night and then prepare for the next night during the day. We did nothing else while you were away."
"And will you gift us with a performance tonight? Some music, perhaps?"
"We didn't have anything big planned for tonight. Zoltan thought you would be back and busy. We didn't need any extra attention on this place."
She pouted, flashing him her best attempt at doe-eyes. "Not even a song or two? I have been without music for weeks…"
Dandelion rolled his eyes. "I see how it is, young lady. When I beg for a fresh story, you insult me by calling a blabbermouth, but when you want music, I have to comply."
"I gave you a story," she said, grinning. "The beginning of one anyway. But it is always fun to watch how red Geralt's face gets when you make his tale the center of your performance."
"What you gave me was a tease of a taste!" Dandelion complained. "I need to know more, and your only excuse is that you haven't rested yet. Priscilla is performing tonight at the Kingfisher Inn. If you promise to rest, you can go there and enjoy some great music."
"It is a deal." She threw back the rest of her drink and stood. "I shall do as told at once, 'uncle' Dandelion."
The pet-name said with affectionate teasing before she bounded for the stairs to get to her room.
Dandelion winced at the nickname that he thought made him sound old, and waved a hand as she walked away.
"Children," he murmured and lilted out his drink.
Ciri ran upstairs, nearly knocking over two courtesans in the process and stopped outside Kain's room, knocking twice. "Kain, you in there?"
She knew he was. The question was just to let him know it was her.
Kain waved a hand, making the door open without approaching it.
"Where else can I be."
"In the arms of a pretty courtesan?" she teased, stepping inside and leaning against the doorway. "Will you come with me to the Kingfisher Inn tonight for a performance? Spend an hour or two doing something that is not, well, battle related?"
He gave her a slightly confused look. "For as long as I don't have to be the performer."
She smirked. "What? No hidden talents that could count as entertainment?"
"Fighting skills," he shrugged. "That doesn't work at the inns, however."
"No pristine singing voice or folk dancing?" she teased. "Let us settle for being the audience tonight then. Dandelion's girl, Priscilla, is supposed to play. I hear she is very talented."
"If you insist," he sighed, sitting down in the chair at the window. He wasn't sure whether he could nap or was too thrown out of his habits to attempt that.
She arched an eyebrow at that notable sigh. "It was just an offer, Kain. I don't insist. It is fine if you would rather stay here and rest."
A quick, meek sneer twitched his mouth. "I'd rather be in the woods, but that's out of the question - thus I'm out of the 'rather' options." He paused, regarding her. "Forgive me for upsetting you earlier. It wasn't my intention."
A dull kind of disappointment squeezed her heart, but she refused to let it show, instead focusing on his next words.
"You didn't. I upset myself." All her fault after all. "I will see you later."
She left his room and closed the door behind her before entering her own, laying down atop her made bed with both hands resting on her stomach, eyes on the ceiling. This counted as rest, did it not?
Given the trouble she'd stirred by alerting Radovids men and the new laws he'd implemented to tighten the lookout for magic users navigating around Novigrad became a chore.
Yennefer also blamed on Triss since she hadn't told Yen her plans beforehand and put everything they were trying to work for at risk. It would only be a matter of time before she appeared on one of those stakes and Yennefer suspected that, like with Margarita, she was being saved for last to be made an example of. What better way than to destroy the final members of The Lodge? However, it also didn't change the fact that students, one after the other, were being burnt alive daily and that Radovid was treating the torture like entertainment.
Yennefer had attended each and everyone one. There was to be another this afternoon. The problem was she didn't know how many more girls were left and if she could uselessly standby, anymore.
Thankfully, for the time being, Yennefer didn't have to as more information had been brought to her, a titbit from another of the soldiers she'd approached and mind-boggled.
She knew that doing so again had been even risker, a reminder to Radovid that whomever was out there was still around (should the soldier be discovered), that it would inevitably wound his pride and cause him to do something drastic, but what other choice had there been?
Only this time the information had been good.
Someone named Deireadh had escaped and knew what was going on inside. Yennefer had found out who and sent him a message, beseeched that he meet her in private at CRIPPLED KATE and had even offered to get him out of Novigrad safely. He'd taken over a day and a half to get back to her, but eventually his messenger appeared, handed her the note, and disappeared without waiting.
The sorceress knew that it was useless following him, that if he was as smart as he appeared—and he was given his escape plan—that it wouldn't get her anywhere.
She waited for him now (as well as Geralt who she sensed had arrived), situated in the far back of the busy establishment, watching as men came and went, trying to ascertain which one she was looking for and hopeful he wouldn't be spooked before he arrived.
Geralt jogged most of the way to CRIPPLED KATE'S, then caught his breath a second before walking in.
He spotted the girl he knew inside; she was dancing in the corner closest to where Yennefer sat alone at a table. The sorceress was wearing her black velvet cloak with a deep hood, but her mouth and chin were unmistakable for those who knew her.
Geralt appeared through the door and despite his niceties with one of the girls gyrating in the corner of the room, Yennefer felt certain areas of her body pulsate. You'd think that with the amount of times they'd fallen into bed together that she'd be over that continued shock of need.
He spared a short smile for the girl who recognized him, and settled across the table from the sorceress.
"Glad to see you in one piece," he greeted, smiling. "Where's Triss? She wasn't at the inn. Dandelion said he hadn't seen her in days."
"And you," she mused, returning the smile.
Unlike other times when their eyes locked and she could sense he knew what she was feeling, this time, he'd gone straight into the business portion of the meeting, crushing anything else.
"She's with Radovid. Seems she got it in her head that she could try to get information from him and handed herself over."
Geralt stared at her in stupefied shock. "She did what?! How could you let her?"
"It's not as if she left me any choice," she retorted. "Besides – that's why you're here."
She twisted so to get closer to him.
"I found someone who escaped the prison they're being held in. We're supposed to meet him here."
"He better come soon," he said. "We have to save Triss. How long has she been there?"
"She's been gone since before I got here. From what I learned she's only been in his custody two days. Three possibly. She hasn't tried to reach out to you?"
"No! I thought you two had it covered here while we were dealing with our part of the problems."
Yennefer would have thought she'd dropped him a message, tried to get him to ride to her rescue or something of a similar nature. "I had it covered. Triss had other ideas."
Yennefer glanced at the entrance when the door swung open, permitting another man. After a moment and with keen determination he'd approached the dancing girl Geralt had been smiling at. Not her guy.
Geralt wasn't satisfied with her answers. "Why wouldn't you work together? I was under the impression you would do it together. How could she decide to go for this madness… She's not one for the suicide."
"You know that when it comes to the Lodge she doesn't think as clearly as she usually would. From what I can surmise, she probably thought this was her only way in to help Margarita."
"To get captured and tortured along with her? I don't believe she would think that a good idea."
"I don't believe the thought she had a choice."
"She did have a choice," he argued. "She could have done it differently. She could've waited for me as we have agreed."
"But she didn't and other than rescue her there isn't much else we can do about it. You'll have to talk to her about it when you actually have her in your eye line."
"I'll be sure to do that."
Geralt turned away from her to survey the room. His eyes slid over the girl again; she sent him a wink. He tried to remember her name, but his mind was blank, filled with worry about Triss.
"Are you sure that man is coming? What if he changed his mind?"
"He said he'd be here."
Of course that didn't mean that he would show up and Yennefer couldn't be certain of what he looked like. What if he'd seen her? Them? And hightailed it out of the place. Geralt could be intimidating to those that didn't know him – and most of those that did.
"We'll give him a few more minutes."
As if on cue, the door opened again, permitting a trio of men, none looking surly or like they'd been imprisoned for very many months.
Where the hell was he?
"How's Ciri?"
"She's fine," Geralt estimated. "Relieved to have seen Imlerith die. They killed two Crones out of three - the last one managed to escape." He paused. "She asked to bring you - she wants to talk to you."
"Wait, what— Imlerith is dead? How did you— who's they?" There was a lot that she had missed and a lot they'd done without her, it seemed. "I'm missing something big."
Geralt sighed and told her about Ciri's idea and how they executed it, how Imlerith was indeed at the Sabbath, and how Ciri and Kain took on the Crones.
She listened with batted breath. She couldn't believe they'd gone that far, that they'd made the attack without her and that they'd succeeded – she was grateful for the latter.
"Everyone's well? No one hurt?"
"Yes, we managed." He studied her a moment. "You're mad we went without you?"
She smiled to let him know that the news pleased her, that she felt better for what she thought was also risky. Not that they weren't capable of taking care of themselves. "No."
That was truthful.
"I guess I'm mad that you didn't tell me."
"It was Ciri's decision. She wanted to keep it a secret."
And she didn't trust Yennefer with it? The sorceress nodded, drawing back slightly, eyeing the prostitute that kept glancing over here, as if the fact that he was with Yennefer wasn't enough to deter her attention.
"You know her?"
He nodded. "I helped her once, not too long ago. Some drunken group were scaring away customers. She was outside asking for help, and I happened in the area, on my way somewhere. I was searching for Whoreson and any clues for his whereabouts."
"And she never rewarded you?" Yennefer asked, arching an eyebrow, smirking lightly at his heroics.
He raised an eyebrow, smiling. "Witchers don't work for free, everybody knows that. Even courtesans."
The smirk twisted into that of a smile, widening marginally.
She hadn't minded that he slept around in the past. But even that had limitations when it came to the other people in her life and the faces she was supposed to see regularly.
She wondered how long ago this particular exchange had happened, where in his newfound story did it fit and how'd it go?
Yennefer was in the middle of thinking it over when the door swung open again, this time tentatively, as though whoever had entered was unsure of what they were doing and was checking for something. He slipped further in, his eyes scanning the crowd of leering faces, brushing off the first woman to approach him until his eyes landed on Yennefer.
Their gazes connected and then his stare fell on Geralt.
He didn't think twice, he backtracked, rushing for the door as though being chased by drowners.
"That's him!"
Geralt barely managed to catch a glimpse of the man before the door swung closed. He rushed after him.
Geralt was out of the brothel after him before she was, but she was close behind them, weaving through the people in their way, being careful not to hit anyone or to knock free her cloak.
All they needed was her face and tell-tale eyes to alert a hunter.
The man wasn't the swiftest of sprinters, and soon enough Geralt's Aard knocked him off his feet. When they got to him, he was out of his mind from fear.
"No! No! Please, don't take me! Don't take me!"
Geralt looked at Yennefer, trusting she would have something to calm him with.
"Calm down, Deireadh!" she commanded. "You're drawing attention! We're not taking you back!"
He seemed to struggle and with her other hand she gestured for Geralt to let him go, to allow him his freedom so that for a time he could try and wrap his head around whatever had scared him.
"You need to calm down," Geralt said, furtively casting Axii on him. "All we need is to talk."
He nodded groggily and followed them back to the brothel with no more struggle. They sat back down in the shadowed corner. Yennefer set him between them like a petulant child she couldn't trust to behave.
Deireadh hadn't argued, either.
"All I want to know is how you got out of the prison, so that we can get in."
"Are you mad?" he spat, cheeks flush, his hands fisted. If it wasn't for Geralt's Axii's keeping him relaxed Yennefer could only assume that he'd have jumped out of chair again and fled.
"Possibly."
He stared at her, his eyes finally meeting her violet ones. "I get you in, you get me out?"
"That was the promise."
He appeared to mull it over and then nodded. "I need mead."
She rolled her eyes. "No. Time is of the essence and you've already wasted valuable time forcing us to chase you."
"I was scared. It seems that Novigrad has gained more eyes and even more treachery."
She didn't care for his excuses. "Get on with it."
Deireadh cast a glance at Geralt, and Yennefer could tell he was looking for a sympathetic ear, someone to understand his need for mead and the fact that he'd been frightened. "You're a Witcher."
Yennefer fought the urge to roll her eyes again, smiling as patiently as she could. He turned back to her, reading the thin line he'd broached and then started talking. He'd explained his proficiency with herbs, that he'd recognized by some twist of fate a specific set of mushrooms that grew in his cell and that with a combination of belladonna he'd been able to fake his death, that the Witchhunters disposed of his 'body' in the corpse pit and that he was able to make his escape through the sewers.
That was the key, then. The sewers.
The sorceress glanced across the table at Geralt. "Will we be able to go in through there?"
Deireadh hesitated, deeply in thought and then nodded.
"You're sure?"
She couldn't find any deception in his tone and his actual thoughts didn't hold it, either.
When it was clear the man wouldn't give anything else, Geralt put a handful of coins on the table in front of him.
"Get yourself some mead and whatever else you might need here," he said. "We're grateful for your help."
Deireadh's hands came up, pushing the lot of coins back in Geralts direction. "I don't need your gratitude. What I need is to get out of Novigrad. As far away as I can." He turned back to look at Yennefer.
"I promised to get you there. I will."
A look of indignation swept across his face and she could tell he wanted to yell or cry out about sorceresses being the vilest of creatures or some other kind of curse.
"It's only fair that I make sure the exchange is worthwhile."
"You tricked me!" he hissed, fixing her with a contemptuous look.
"Not at all." She stood gracefully, pulling her cloak tighter around herself. "Meet me here in a day. Same time."
He appeared to contemplate the new adjustment in the deal, his motions sulky as he snatched the coins he'd been meaning to return to Geralt and got to his feet. He stormed past her, heading for the exit, looking even shiftier than when he'd started.
She turned to the Witcher. "Think you'll be able to get us into the sewers?"
"For as long as you know where to go," he nodded. "You do, don't you?"
"I haven't personally been down there, but I've a fair idea."
She didn't wait for him to get to his feet and made her way out of the Brothel.
"Hey, lassie?" Zoltan called, knocking on Ciri's door. "Ye decent? Want a bath? Silly me forgot to ask."
Ciri groaned softly when she had to get to her feet again, opening the door with a pleasant smile.
"No need. I had a bath late last night. I might take advantage of your generosity later, though."
"All right," he said, studying her, then frowned. "Ye all right, lassie? Something wrong? Ye look… dim."
"I'm fine. It has simply been a rough few days. Well, years, really. I suspect it is starting to wear on me."
"Ye sure?" Zoltan looked doubtful. "No one upset ye now?"
She tilted her head at the man before her. "Why do you ask that?"
"The way ye look, lassie," Zoltan said, pondering on the wording. "Ye look… sad. What happened? Ye worry about Geralt? He's gonna be back soon enough."
She shook her head, smiling a little. "Not worrying about him any more than usual. I'm fine, Zoltan. I swear it."
Zoltan didn't look like he believed it, but nodded, nonetheless. "Very well, then… Ye hungry? I'll getcha something to chew on, whatever ye like. Just whistle."
"You spoil me, Zoltan," she called after him affectionately before he closed the door.
She poured herself some of the apple cider and had a sip, moving to lean against the window to watch life outside of the inn. Novigrad was always busy.
Geralt followed the sorceress outside and walked next to her. "How far is it? We have to hurry, for Triss's sake."
She couldn't agree more. She'd been waiting on this information for some time.
They weaved through the streets, fixated on where they needed to be, Geralt diligently following her. There was no need for small talk, either.
What more could they even say to one another?
It was different when they were within each other's thread and space and an opposite effect when they weren't – it also wasn't the time. She had missed him though, she always did.
Once they had a quiet spot, Yennefer waved a hand and swiftly without warning carried them to Oxenfurt.
"The door to the underground should be around here somewhere."
"All right." Geralt looked at the well she brought him to. "Down there, I suppose?" He peered at her ironically. "You want me to dive into that hole, don't you."
"How would I achieve that? On your back? You've to light my way, Geralt. Like you usually do."
For Geralt to achieve that she removed the trinket she stashed beneath the cloak. It was the size of a gold medallion and would offer a large enough splash of energy to show her the way down the tunnels once he managed to stumble upon Margarita and possibly Triss.
If the latter was even kept down there.
"All you had to activate it and it'll signal me."
She briefly showed him how and where he'd have to push on the magical device, and then handed it over.
He didn't know what he 'usually did', but refrained from saying so. He peered down into the well, trying to make anything out in the dark, then sighed.
"Fine. Try to be ready when I find them."
He didn't wait for her to answer as he swung his legs over the rims and jumped down.
He'd missed the part where she said she planned on following him down the well. Guess their miscommunications were a part of their newfound lack of deepening connection.
Yennefer leaned over to observe the darkness, to listen and wait on the sounds of his footfalls.
There was a lot of water, like an underground lake, and thankfully, it was rather clean, though the cave stunk of mold and wet stone and some old forgotten things that better left untouched.
There was no passage in sight, and he had to dive. It took him some time to find a tunnel in the dark to swim through and come out on the other side – in another cave a bit smaller. There was a way to get out of water, however, and continue the path deeper into the catacombs.
For a long while, there was nothing but abandoned caves with occasional drowners. But then he noted columns and walls that indicated something made by sentient beings. Elvish carvings and decorations were rare, but still holding in places untouched by floods or quakes.
"Well, I guess I'm on the right track, then," he murmured, picking his way.
"So how ye doin, lad?" Zoltan inquired, strolling into the room. "Need anythin?"
"No, I don't think so. Thank you."
The dwarf regarded Kain with a frown. "I've been to lassie's just now, and ye know what's funny? That ye two look the same - neither quite happy. What's the matter with ye?"
Kain pondered it a moment and decided there was no point waving him away.
"I'm not sure what I'm doing here," he confessed. "So many people around, attention, noises, everything that I've been keeping away from for so long. It just feels overwhelming."
"I see," Zoltan sighed and clucked his tongue with a sympathetic mien. "Wish I could help ye, but the only thing I can do is try to make it a bit more bearable. To make ye feel that yer among friends. Cause ye are."
He considered Kain a moment with his arms folded as though judging a new painting on his wall, then gave an inviting gesture.
"Come, lad. Have a drink with us."
"I'd rather not drink," Kain said at his retreating back.
"We've tea, too, ye know. We're not barbarians."
Out of arguments, Kain went downstairs with him.
He led him past the groups of talking people, past the giggling courtesans whose hands glided down the Cat's arms and chest as he walked by and their whispers carried teasing promises to take him to euphoria for free.
Zoltan sat him down at a secluded table that was so smartly put to survey the whole place without drawing any attention. When Zoltan returned to join him, he brought tea, his bread, and Dandelion.
"About time we meet properly," Dandelion said, smiling a charming smile. "You know my ballads - which is quite a lot, since every ballad is as personal as it gets. But I don't know anything at all - aside from curt nonsense this dwarf here has relayed to me between his chiding of our suppliers."
"Ye gods and little fishes, poet," Zoltan grumbled pouring the tea. Dandelion helped himself to Erveluce he had started before Kain came down.
"I thought Ciri would answer questions," Kain said, nodding a thanks to Zoltan.
Dandelion snorted. "That girl takes after her warden too much. At times I wonder if they're secretly related."
"Ye betcha they are," Zoltan laughed. "Through that destiny ye sing about."
"It's thiker than blood, then," Dandelion said grumpily and drank. Then considered Kain. "What about you? I heard you're a witcher like Geralt. How much like him are you?"
Kain had to chuckle, and shrugged. "Judging oneself is the hardest."
"True," Dandelion nodded. "Thus let us do it for you."
"What do you want to know?"
"Everything would be the most honest answer, but I'll attempt modesty and say your story with our Ciri will suffice for tonight."
"Modesty!" Zoltan marveled, laughing.
Kain drank his tea and told them how they met in the woods, then how they bumped into each other at the village. He kept Ciri's adventures with the sirens to himself, thinking it was not his place to tell.
After a bit, Zoltan left to deal with some customers - whom he had promised a few rounds of Gwent - and Dandelion kept asking about Kaer Morhen and the Wild Hunt.
"I get how this city could feel like too much to handle when you get here from some quiet place," Dandelion said, sipping his wine languidly. "But let me - a man with a lot of experience in entertainment and art - tell you something very important: it's all a matter of the right perspective.
"See, right now you're not feeling like enjoying yourself because the change of pace is too rapid and confusing. There are ways to rectify it." He leaned in over the table, his eye twinkling cunningly as he confided: "Nothing helps better than some nice round of relaxation in a beautiful vixen's arms."
Kain gave an amused hem and a slow shake of his head. "I'm afraid I'm not that kind of a witcher."
"Oh," the poet peered at him with a kind of a surprised doubt reserved for failed expectations. He drank, pondering, then had another idea. "There are other ways yet, my friend, and I'll be damned if I don't point you in the right direction." He leaned in again. "I have a lady friend that will make you forget your own name for some long and blissful moments while none of the public house kind of deals would take place. She is so skillful with her hands you will return for more revelations and blesses of pure, innocent pleasure.
"Got to tell you it's a salvation for those unfortunates who have mates to be faithful to."
He watched the boy with growing interest and eerie kind of suspicion.
"Hands," Kain mused. "What does she do, exactly?"
"The most divine massage one could ever experience. You will fly to heavens without the dirt of adultery. Isn't it great?"
"She's an elf?"
"Oh no, as human as any of us. Or…" he regarded Kain doubtfully, "well, most of us. So what do you say?"
Kain was about to decline, but temptation to follow that faint hunch and see if it was founded on anything solid was too strong.
"Where does she live?"
"I'll take you."
"I'll find it if you tell me where to go."
Dandelion smiled good-heartedly. "Very well. She lives in the village right outside of the city walls. People there will point you to her door when you ask of Melika."
"Thank you," Kain finished his tea and got up.
"Tell her I sent you," Dandelion leered. "And have a good time."