There was a sight of magic, a direct path that showed Yennefer where she needed to go, how far and that beckoned to her like an internal voice set to lure her into the dark.
Geralt had activated the device.
She wove a hand through the air, portal opening, and stepped through. She appeared an instant later in front of Margarita. Geralt was nowhere in sight, and for a time, Yennefer was alarmed.
Where was he?
"He's gone in search of a key," Margarita explained in a relieved tone.
Her emerald dress was torn, her blonde hair matted with dirt and face littered with a series of bruises and cuts.
"Are you all right?"
"Better than Triss."
Margarita speared a look across the way to the opposite cell to indicate to what she was referring. There lay a crumpled Triss, natural red hair caked, speckled with black and her face half covered in blood.
"Triss!" Yennefer scrambled up to the cage door and shakily tried to open it, to rouse her. "Triss! Wake up!"
"It's useless," Margarita stated from behind her. "I've been trying for days!"
Days? Did that mean she was dead?
Yennefer swallowed thickly.
When Geralt returned with the key and his boots almost soaked in blood, Yennefer was kneeling next to Triss's cage. He stuck the key in and turned – it went with effort like some old and rusty mechanism, but eventually budged and clanged the lock open.
He pulled the door and let Yennefer slip in while he hovered behind her.
"How is she?" he asked.
Triss's right eye was swollen shut, her left bruised black, her neck red with marks as if she'd been choked, nails were missing from her hand and her mouth was covered in blood. She was looking right at Yennefer —seeing through her — but from the cuts on her mouth Yen could tell she couldn't speak and that moving was limited.
The black-haired sorceress knelt down beside her and brushed the hair away from her forehead where it had stuck.
She hardly responded.
"Hurt. I need to get her out of here."
"Leave me," Margarita said. "Just save her."
Geralt cast a glance at her, then leaned over Yennefer and Triss. The latter was hard to look at.
"Can you come back for Margarita? Hardly it's a good idea to lead her out on her feet the way I will be escaping."
Yennefer's head shot up at Margarita's insistence that they leave her.
That wasn't going to happen.
"Yes, but I doubt I'll be able to manage a third trip."
Despite what he'd decided Yennefer wanted him to know she had thought about it, that she wasn't inclined to leaving him behind for thrills.
"As soon as Triss and I are through the portal, count to ten and reactivate the device."
"All right," he nodded, stepping back to make space for them.
He approached Margarita when they disappeared, kneeling at her cell.
"Think you're going to be fine?"
She nodded, a bitter smile creased her mouth. "Even if it doesn't feel so now, I intend to be fine. Thank you, Geralt. I didn't believe in salvation. Not after they brought Triss in."
He scowled. "It was stupid coming here alone. She made that decision on her own. I wish I was there when she got that idea."
She smiled sadly. "She said as much. That you wouldn't approve."
"Do you know where others might be? Philippa?"
"I don't know much, witcher. Things have probably changed drastically since I've been stuck here. But once I'm out of here and we regroup, we shall find those we need to find."
He nodded. "Fair."
"I heard you found Cirilla," she added. "I congratulate you."
"Thanks."
He got up and activated Yennefer's amulet once again, hoping she'd had enough time.
There wasn't time to deposit Triss on the bed, moving her from one stone floor to that of wood at the Spearhead inn. She tensed and her eyes had closed, but that was the only acknowledgment she'd given Yennefer that they moved.
"You're safe here. I'll be back shortly."
Yennefer crouched beside her, holding a hand to her nose to make sure she was still breathing and then carefully extended a hand to summon another portal as soon as she felt that now familiar pull.
A second later, Yennefer appeared in the prison again beside Geralt.
"Are you going to be able to safely get out?"
"Don't worry about me," he said, leading Margarita out of her cell. He hooked her arm around Yennefer and stepped away. "Take care of them. Meet you at Dandelion's as soon as possible. Ciri's waiting."
Yennefer grabbed a firm hold of Margarita's waist to keep her upright, nodded and then zapped them from the confines of the prison. Instead of returning to Spearhead, she carried her straight to Dandelion's.
When the portal closed, Geralt went around the room once again to see if there was anything useful to see or pick up, then left through the sewers back the same way he had come here. Except he didn't go for the well - it was too noticeable. He found another passage through the sewers that led outside the city. It was unfortunate that Yennefer had used a portal - which left his Roach out of the equation.
Geralt washed the best he could in the river behind the town walls, then hired a boat. One of the fishermen agreed to take him to Novigrad for a price he usually took for slaying a griffin or ekimmara, no less.
Geralt didn't argue. He had no better options.
When he arrived to Novigrad, wet and stinking, the moon was already out and shining from the sky.
Dandelion made a quick work of dashing to the kitchen and arranged them two plates of fried venison and baked potatoes served with ale for Ciri and tea for Kain.
Geralt walked in when they had almost finished their meals. He looked disheveled and tired, his armor stunk of sewers and monster blood, a few fresh scratches adorned his hands and neck.
"Geralt, finally!" Dandelion rushed to him, then grimaced and cast a shifty glance around the room. "Oh no, mate, you need to change and have a bath right away. We can't have it here at night when the most of our guests come around. Let's go. Now. And you'll tell me everything."
The bard pulled him away toward the stairs.
"Wait!" Ciri called, jumping to her feet and following the two. "What happened, Geralt? Where have you been?"
Geralt didn't stop walking the stairs since Dandelion was following him and pushing him up so the Witcher didn't linger any longer where people could see and smell him.
"I met up with Yennefer," Geralt responded to Ciri's questions when they stepped into the corridor on the way to his room, "and we had to rescue Triss and Margarita. Yennefer is with them now. I told her to come here as soon as she could, so she will."
"Rescue Triss?" she asked, following them up the stairs unmindful of the smell. "What happened to Triss?"
Geralt walked into his room followed by Dandelion and Ciri, and shrugged off the swords harness, then began to unbuckle the armor.
"She infiltrated the prison where the witch hunters kept Margarita and some others – as a prisoner. She was in a dire condition when we got there. Yennefer is helping her."
"Gods," Dandelion scoffed, concerned. "Why would she do that… All she had to do was wait for you to arrive. I told her that. I'm sure Yennefer told her that."
"No one we know ever listens to reason, Dandelion," Geralt said, shooting a passing but pointed glance Ciri's way as he shrugged off his leather jerkin. "At least she survived until we got there. It might be yet all right."
Ciri felt sick at the thought of Triss being tortured, in the way she imagined the redhead had been. Bloodied and broken. Like Yennefer in the hands of Vilgelfortz.
"Are you alright?" she asked eventually "Are you hurt?"
"No, nothing serious," Geralt said, discarding his jerkin on the floor; Dandelion stepped away from it, a small wince passed through his face.
"I'll have this cleaned," he said, heading for the door. "And you need that bath. I'll be a moment."
Geralt nodded, and he left. The Witcher looked Ciri up and down.
"You don't look all that rested. What have you been up to while I was gone?"
"People keep saying that." Ciri touched her face, trying to check for sudden malformations. "I'm fine. Kain and I went to see a few people in and out of town to thank them for the help they gave me when I was last here.
"We were planning to go out and see Priscilla perform next but we can stay here instead. If Yennefer is coming…"
"Thing is, I don't know when she's coming," he said, spreading his arms. "I don't know if she is coming tonight despite my asking. I don't know where she is or how Triss is doing."
"I know she's coming," a voice replied from the doorway. They turned to see Margarita. She looked better than Geralt recalled from the prison some hours ago, but her face still carried the seal of exhaustion. "She brought me here, but not Triss. I believe they shall come here later. When Triss is able to move."
The sorceress cast a sharp, gauging eye over Ciri, and smiled.
"Nice to see you well, darling. We shall all talk when we all get our proper rest." She looked at Geralt. "Where can I ask for a bath?"
"That'd be Dandelion," he said. "He's downstairs."
She smiled. "I'm afraid I will require assistance – a messenger. For I barely feel it's wise to show my face while I'm not fully capable in the sense of my magic. Ciri, will you help me? Pass along my wish? Be a dear."
Margarita had never been the one Ciri hated most of the Lodge members. The few encounters they had in the past, she had been perfectly pleasant.
If only it wasn't for the pesky plot to possess Ciri and her future child.
She could not muster a smile for the sorceress, even now when she was wounded and vulnerable.
"Yes. I will do you that favor," Ciri said, making it perfectly clear she was not signing up for anything else.
She cast a concerned look at Geralt, then left, heading down the stairs to find Dandelion. He rushed to arrange the bath at once. It felt as though he was a tad nervous in the presence of sorceresses.
Ciri took her seat next to Kain again and picked at her food.
"Triss got herself captured apparently," she told him somberly. "She is in bad shape."
Kain gave her a confused look. "It's where Yennefer is? With her?"
"She brought her to another inn. I was under the impression they had been staying here, but I suppose not."
It figured. Geralt wouldn't be alone otherwise.
"It's unfortunate," he added in the afterthought, and finished his tea. "Is Geralt all right?"
Ciri took a tentative bite of her meal, nodding. "He says he is. Moves fine. I expect there are scratches and bruises hidden by his clothing, however. There usually is."
"Rare witchers come unscathed from the fights with anything bigger than a lone nekker. It's the norm. If he says he's fine, he is."
"I suppose."
She ate in silence a while, absentmindedly watching the other patrons.
"Remember the sleeping tonic Mousesack gave me? The one to protect my mind from invasions in the night?" Ciri took a sip of mead and swallowed. "I used what was left last night."
"Think your dreams are going to be back without it?"
"I think Eredin will. And considering what I did last time he entered my dreams… I am worried."
"What are the options? Sail to Skellige for more potion or wait for Yennefer and refuse to sleep while we do?"
"One seems more foolish than the other," she said with a small smile. "Maybe… Maybe he has given up? If unable to make the connection for so long… perhaps he has stopped trying?"
Or was that simply hopeful thinking?
Kain smiled a little, peering at her. "Is he the type to give up on anything he deems important?"
"No," she admitted. "I suppose I will stay up, after all."
"You need your sleep, you know that. What good will you be without it?"
"What good will I be in Eredin's clutches?" she countered, taking another bite of her meal.
Kain raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. "He can get you through a dream? Not unless you use your power to go to him."
"That is what I mean, yes. I can stay awake until I see Yennefer. Hopefully she will be here tomorrow." Ciri prayed she would. And not just for the sake of her sleep. Ciri missed her.
"If you still want to see Priscilla's performance, we shall tend to that first. And if Yennefer's not back by the time we are, I'll stay with you."
Ciri smiled, appreciative. "Thank you."
She finished her meal and, having made sure he had eaten his, as well, stood.
"Shall we?"
"I hope you know the way," he said, following her to the door. He glanced back to see if Dandelion was around, but the bard hadn't returned from the rooms upstairs yet.
"Of course."
After dropping Margarita off at Dandelions, Yennefer returned to Triss at Spearhead. She was still on the floor. Yennefer plucked a pillow off the bed, slipped it beneath her head, and made a point of wiping the blood from her face, removing her once emerald clothing from her body now stained red with blood and dirt to give her subtle wash. In the past she'd have resisted, claimed some kind of pride, but she didn't have the energy and she could do no more than curl her hands into loose fists.
"What were you thinking," Yennefer murmured studying the dark bruises that scattered her abdomen. No spot on her porcelain skin had been left untouched and from what Yen saw of her hands, they'd removed eight out of her ten nails.
Yennefer was careful not to hurt her.
When the black-haired sorceress had her as clean as she could possible get, she sat down beside her, legs crossed, one of her broken hands rested in Yen's own, serving to pass of her energy to Triss in attempt to aid in repairing her body quicker. Triss was allergic to the supernatural additives so poultice and healing potions were out of the question.
"Sleep," Yennefer instructed once she was done and had sufficiently expelled all the energy she could spare, covering Triss with a blanket from the bed, resisting the urge to move her when Yen knew how sore she was and unsure she'd even be able to do it without help.
Triss had suffered enough and her body would need some time to pull itself together.
Triss didn't argue and before long, her pain had dragged her into a restless slumber.
It did not take them long to get to the Kingfisher Inn. It was quite packed. More so than Dandelion's, which was no surprise, truly. This was Novigrad's best according to most. It was large and spacious with balconies overlooking the stage from the second floor and with plenty of tables to choose from on the first.
Ciri bought them both a cup of tea and they found available seats just in time for Priscilla, a beautiful blonde girl in colorful garb, to enter the stage. She picked up a lute, tuned it, and slowly began playing.
The melody was very familiar. One of Dandelion's infamous ballads about Geralt and Yennefer. It would have made Ciri snicker if not for the tragic irony that was currently happening.
You flee my dream come the morning.
Your scent – berries tart, lilac sweet.
To dream of raven locks entwisted, stormy.
Of violet eyes, glistening as you weep.
Ciri cradled her cup of tea between both hands and watched the stage with an almost childlike fascination, one shoulder resting against Kain's.
Kain had seen Dandelion perform, and he always gathered quite the crowds. This girl, despite her obvious youth, didn't fare any lower in the numbers of those eager to see her. The inn was packed, people's eyes were locked on her, some glistened with tears as she sang. A few couples hiding along the walls in the shadows were kissing, unable to withstand the mood.
He hadn't heard that particular ballad before, nor did it hold the same kind of signature Dandelion's ballads gave off. It made Kain think they might've written it together.
In any case, it was a great work, a great success. People couldn't stop clapping when she finished.
Ciri glanced around at all the weeping and cuddling couples. "More, um, sad than I had expected," she confessed.
"It's sad because it needs to touch people," he said, and sipped his tea. "Happy stories are not as popular. But it doesn't mean their true story is as sad. It's not finished yet."
"I hope not. Even though Geralt can't remember most of it at the moment."
"She's still in his life. It means it's not over yet."
"Always the optimist," Ciri smiled and sipped her tea, falling silent when Priscilla started playing again. A jauntier tune this time.
Kain didn't consider himself an optimist, but didn't argue.
The other ballad didn't have the same effect: people began to chat and pay attention to their drinks and meals.
"Apparently, Priscilla and Dandelion put on plays as well," Ciri told Kain in a hushed voice so to not disturb the performance. "Rumors are, the former managed to make Geralt participate in one." Something that amused her greatly.
Kain hemmed with mild amusement. "Sounds rather doubtful - about Geralt's participation."
"I would give anything to have seen it. It would have given me blackmail intel for years and years," she laughed. "I believe it was a romantic role as well. The things he will do for his friends."
He peered at her with disbelief, "Where do you hear all that?"
"Dandelion, of course. I don't think he was there to see it himself, but he heard it from Priscilla."
"Poets like to present the truth under their own sauce. So I would not expect their versions to be entirely correct."
"Good. Keep that in mind next time you hear a Lion Cub of Cintra poem," she grumbled, finishing her tea.
He smiled. "Who needs poems when you're right here as you truly are. Truth is always more attractive than decorated stories."
"Really?" Ciri looked at him with pleasant surprise. "I think Dandelion painted me much braver than I was. Though I don't particularly mind that part." She paused, contemplating, then asked: "Did the druids teach you to play an instrument? I always enjoyed their music. It was the drums, I think. So powerful."
"Their drums serve certain purposes rather than music for entertainment. They use rhythms for trances and meditations."
"I know. But one can still enjoy it, yes?"
Kain shrugged, "I guess so."
They hadn't been asleep too long when Triss began to move, rolling onto her back, wincing as she stared up at Yennefer from the floor. Yen sat up and looked down at her.
"How are you feeling?"
"Like I was tortured."
And clearly she had been.
"Why'd you go at it alone?"
"I thought I could convince Radovid to hear me out, to negotiate, to perhaps find out where—"
There was a bout of tears in her voice and Yennefer could tell that she was having a really hard time speaking. The cuts around her mouth were doing her no favors.
"Where's Geralt?"
"He should be on his way back from the Elven ruins."
"Elven ruins?" she asked, moving her mouth minimally.
"Try to sleep, Triss. Let the magic do its job."
Thank you for coming with me," Ciri said, watching him. "I know this is not what you'd prefer but… it is nice. For me it is, anyway."
Kain sighed lightly, observing the room. "I'm not quite sure what I prefer. I used to be before I met you. And then it became a bit more complicated than just knowing things for sure or preferring something over the rest."
Ciri's gaze turned curious. "The thought of me having any kind of such influence is baffling," she admitted. "Though if it means you will spend more time with me, erm, us, and actually enjoy it… I won't be complaining. I like being with you."
He chuckled. "I'm not that fascinating."
"Well, not from your point of view, obviously," she laughed. "But to the rest of us…"
Kain raised an eyebrow, "Us?"
The rest of the people. Geralt, Dandelion, Zoltan, they all ask questions."
Kain didn't ask aloud, but peered at her expectantly.
"What you're like, how you feel about certain things," she elaborated. "And then comes the how do you feel about him and why do you feel so drawn to him? Dandelion mostly wants dirty imaginary details."
Kain chuckled softly. "They're curious because it's new. I'm new, and you are a bit new to them, as well. All of it together creates questions."
"I suppose. They asked me a lot about Avallac'h in the beginning as well, but I think that was mostly because they did not like him."
"Not all of them are bound to like me, either. They won't tell you, though."
"Because I like you?" she questioned. "They had no problem expressing that emotion about Avallac'h. Though I'm starting to believe they were in the right there and me in the wrong."
"Why?"
"You know why. He's become rather more aggressive of late. Crude and even sometimes cruel. I thought he'd changed."
"He feels his control is slipping away, that drives him to be more aggressive. He tries to get his control back."
"His control over me," she pointed out, scoffing at herself. "I did not even truly see that until someone else pointed it out."
"It's not easy to see when you're in the middle of it. It's easier to notice from another perspective."
"Or when the person in question begins to lose his composure."
Ciri looked back over her shoulder when she heard the sounds of arguing over by the entrance. And her gaze stayed locked there. Two men were arguing with the proprietor who seemed unwilling to let them in. Nervous, but unwilling. Whoreson's men.
She turned more fully in her seat, absentmindedly running the tip of her tongue back and forth over the ridge of her teeth as she watched them.
How many of Whoreson's men were at his mansion right now, she wondered? How hard, or how easy, would it be to get inside?
"He used to have your full attention, which changed when you returned to Geralt."
Kain followed her gaze, scanning the scene.
"Someone you know?"
"I know the man they work for," she said, instantly rising to her feet when one of the men threw a punch at the proprietor. She did not have to go over. Several others had already come to the proprietor's aid. "Bastards."
Kain pulled her back down to sit. "Making a scene won't be wise," he reasoned. "You're too noticeable."
"Story of my life," she muttered, allowing him to pull her back down but unable to tear her eyes off the door, her whole body tense like a snake coiled to strike.
"Your appearance is made to be remembered - a perfect royal figure. It works for witchers, too. Their fame makes payment go higher.
"But you're in hiding right now. You shouldn't fight in a public place to make people remember you."
"Then perhaps I should meet up with them someplace more private," she suggested, watching as the two were tossed out on their asses. Though, in truth, it was not they she wanted. It was their boss.
"Is it that necessary? You have your plate full as it is."
"Mm," she hummed in agreement. "Of course, this crime boss, when he is not trying to kill me and Dandelion, and kidnapping our friends to torture them, he likes to cut open defenseless women in his mansion. Or hang them. Drown them. Beat them. Or rape them to death. It does not really sit well with me."
"I understand that. But you can't save everyone. You must choose your battles wisely.
If you absolutely can't leave it be for now, I won't let you go alone."
"Exterminate someone who murders innocent women for fun? I think that is a battle worth fighting any day. I have been on the receiving end of such violence. I would like to return the favor," she said, standing again and heading for the door, assuming Kain would follow. If he had meant what he said, anyway.
Kain sighed and followed, pulling his hood on as he went.
Another hour passed before Triss eventually sat up, staring blankly at the wall ahead.
"Want up onto the mattress?"
Yennefer thought she should rest, but she had her own ideas.
"I need to talk to Geralt."
"We will as soon as you're better."
"I am," she uttered stubbornly, pressing her hands to the floorboards, trying to push to her knees so she could stand. Yennefer moved to help her.
"No, you're not," she said, being careful not to take Triss's hand, but to guide her over to the bed where she could sit down since she was winded. "What all did they do? Was it Radovid?"
"Only at the end."
Yennefer relaxed her hand on Triss's arms and sat down beside her, seeing her tense.
"Are you going to tell me what drove you to do it?"
Yennefer had speculated that it was guilt. Triss shook her head.
"It doesn't matter. Did you get Margarita?"
She didn't remember that part?
"We did."
"Where is she?"
"At Dandelions with the rest."
Yennefer could have taken Triss there, but assumed with everything that had happened and how bad she looked that she'd have appreciated a time to recover so she could be more presentable.
Yen would if it were her.
Triss glanced down at herself. "Where are my clothes?"
"You can borrow something of mine."
The redhead wrinkled her nose with distaste.
The walk to Whoreson's mansion was quite the long one, but they made it there within forty minutes. The outside was crawling with his men, so they couldn't exactly charge inside.
"See any vulnerable windows?" Ciri asked Kain.
"You have to get to those windows first." Kain gestured at the mansion, "The options are to fight through them and alert everyone inside, or use magic."
He surveyed the place once again, pondering.
"There must be a patch of the fence unwatched. We have to find it and get over, and then we'll see."
He pulled her to him by the arm, wrapping his around her waist to pose as a couple. They walked past the guarded gates; the gang members barely spent any extra attention on them and went back to their silly chat. They were already tipsy and getting drunker, passing bottles between themselves. There were five of them guarding the gate, which made an impression about how highly Whoreson treasured his safety at home.
Eventually they found a part of the wall where it was rather quiet behind it. They waited for the pair of city guards to pass, and then Kain leapt lightly up the wall like a cat and crouched on it looking down.
There were a few bushes in the vicinity – good for a momentary disguise, and no guards in the immediate circle. There were a lot, however, scattered around the property, and most were patrolling in groups.
He gestured for Ciri to jump and held out a hand to catch her. He pulled her up to him, and they slipped down on the other side, shifting into the shadows to pick the best route.
"Which house you expect he's in?" he asked, glancing over the buildings. There were several.
"The one in the middle," she whispered, pointing. A few of whoreson's men were lingering outside the front door. "We could knock them out," she suggested. "Stick them in the bushes for safe-keeping?"
"I'll try something else first," he whispered, focusing his attention on the building that seemed to be a shed. He raised a hand slightly, concentrating on one spot on the roof.
Kain wiggled his fingers that felt hot and tingling, and a flare of orange flashed there. The flame began to crackle, and they heard alarmed voices from the patrols that saw it.
The group by the door worried, cautiously stepping away to check what their mates screamed about. When they saw the flame, they couldn't resist running to help put it out. They had a hard time doing it: there was no well around, and the roof wasn't easily accessed.
When the way was free, the duo hurried across the paved path and slipped inside the house.
"Show off," Ciri teased as they shuffled across the yard and into the mansion. The first floor lay empty, so they continued onto the second floor.
There… it was crowded, and they all noticed them as they stepped onto the landing.
They did not raise their weapons. They barely paid the two any more attention. Probably because they assumed the couple had gained entrance from their comrades downstairs.
"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" A familiar voice called from the next room over. Kain and Ciri headed that way.
Whoreson Junior was seated at a table with a pitcher of wine, rubbing his scarred chin and grinning as he looked Ciri up and down. "Didn't think I'd see you here again. Vengeful little thing, aren't you?"
She narrowed her eyes. Her hand reaching for the hilt of her sword. "Shut your mouth before I rip your tongue out. I have come back to finish what I started."
She drew her sword and advanced at him.
Whoreson immediately got to his feet, holding up both hands in defense. "Wait, wait… no, it's me. Dudu."
She hesitated, looking him up and down. "Dudu?"
She didn't seek Kain with her gaze but she still sought his advice, trying to reach for him within her mind. He knew energies. He knew… more than she did.
Whoever that man was supposed to be, he wasn't it. His energy was strikingly different from everybody else in the room. He wasn't human, not by a long shot, but he very successfully posed as one. His aura was strange, as if it were two different ones overlapping. Two personalities within one body.
"Shapeshifter," Kain whispered, eyeballing him fascinatedly. "A Doppler, aren't you."
The man nodded eagerly and shot his healthy eye to Ciri, looking pleading.
Ciri stared at Whoreson's face.
"What is wrong with you, Dudu?" she hissed, slowly sheathing her sword. "Were there no one other than Whoreson Junior you could impersonate?"
Dudu shrugged. "When we escaped here, I had no idea what to do. I knew it was only a matter of time before they'd find me. Then when Geralt told me Whoreson Junior was dead, but that not many knew, I figured that was my chance."
She eyed him curiously. "So you are a crime boss now?"
"Of course not!" Dudu exclaimed. "All of Whoreson's businesses have turned to the straight and narrow. Entirely legal. Well, for the most part." He looked at Kain. "Who is this?"
"Kain's the name," the Cat said. "I'm a witcher."
Dudu raised his eyebrows, but nodded, a small smirk touching his creased mouth. "Figures. I would expect Geralt, though. He all right?"
"Yes. He doesn't know we are here." Ciri lowered her voice. "You said Whoreson is dead? How? What happened?"
Dudu blinked. "Well, Geralt killed him," he said. "I'm surprised he did not tell you."
She cleared her throat. "Well, we have a lot of catching up to do."
He smiled, looking up at her. "I am relieved you are alive."
She smiled, too. "And I am relieved I did not slit your throat."
"We probably should leave before we blow your cover," Kain said quietly, looking from one to another. "Geralt and Ciri are staying at Rosemary And Thyme. You can visit when you can, and do it safely."
She nodded. "Yes, we should. Please do come visit, Dudu, if you are able."
The doppler smiled again, the smile on the face of a man she loathed.
"Take care of yourself, Ciri."
Ciri stepped out, waited for Kain to follow her, and headed downstairs.
They didn't meet any resistance or alarm from any of Whoreson's men as they walked freely from his property and past the five guards outside the gates. Once again, they didn't spare the two another glance. The moon was in its apex when they returned to the inn.
"Ah, you finally came home!" Dandelion exclaimed, greeting Ciri from behind the counter. He looked positively tired.
"Where's Zoltan?" Kain asked when they approached the bar.
"Still playing," Dandelion jerked his chin at the room; they turned and saw the dwarf at the table with a group of four, two of which were also dwarves. The other two appeared to be halflings. A battery of empty bottles lined up on the floor next to the table legs.
"Don't tell me you were waiting up?" Ciri asked, peering back at Zoltan and his play-partners with mild curiosity.
"He does this every night? How has he managed to hold onto any possessions?"
"No, not every night, of course!" the poet said. "But to be fair, sometimes he wins."
She leaned over the bar counter and patted Dandelion's cheek. "You look tired, Dandy. Want me to watch over the inn while you get some shuteye?"
She tried not to look too impish. She failed.
"Oh no, there's absolutely no need," the poet grinned. "Nothing but my own self is keeping me up. I just like to maintain a level of control while Zoltan holds his game nights. Our establishment is one of the night-time kind, so that means a certain schedule. I'm used to it. It's all right. You go have rest. You all need it." He leaned in, "One of them is here. Triss and Yennefer are still missing, though. Perhaps they come back here tomorrow. In any case, you lot shall be busy when they do. Better prepare. Get some sleep. I believe Geralt is already seeing his tenth dream. At least I hope so - I haven't seen him since I arranged his bath."
"I know," she said, replicating his stance with amusement. "I was the one who asked you for her bath, remember?"
She straightened and made for the stairs. She would not sleep tonight, but no one other than Kain needed to know that.
"If one is here, chances are we get more, and you know I'm not so fond of their lot." He rolled his eyes and rectified, "Except for Yen, of course."
"We need them, Dandelion. I am not fond of them either, you know this. But needs must when the devil rides."
Dandelion merely rolled his eyes again and turned to one of the patrons approaching the bar.
Kain followed Ciri upstairs.
"Which room you sleep in tonight?" he asked. "Yours or mine?"
"I don't sleep," she reminded him. "So whichever room suits you best. Yours, I suppose."
"You are sleeping - that is the point," he argued. "So either room you feel good with shall be picked."
She stared at him. "No. We talked about this. I can't risk it."
He peered at her calmly. "Yes, we talked about this and decided I would make sure you don't zap away."
"No, we decided you would help me stay awake," she argued softly. "Kain, last time I pulled you along with me. I exposed you to Eredin. It is too dangerous."
"There's nothing else left to expose, then. You will be fine. It might not even happen. You have to try to sleep - Dandelion is right, you have busy times ahead."
She frowned. "What about you? You can't stay up guarding me?"
"I don't have to stay awake to guard you - I have a magic alarm." He tapped a finger on the Cat medallion.
Already her heart was racing, but eventually she nodded. She gestured for his room and they headed inside.
Ciri doubted she would be able to sleep with all the apprehension, but if going through the motions made Kain feel better, she would try.
She started to remove her weapons and coat while Kain closed the door behind them.
He leaned the swords against the wall next to the bed, then began to unbuckle the jerkin.
"I'll have to find an armorer tomorrow. It's hot compared to Skellige."
She looked over. "I am sure there are several competent armorers in the town. Shouldn't be too difficult."
She took a seat on the edge of the bed and began to remove her boots.
He put the jacket on the chair and toed off his boots, recalling how he was going to go for a swim before the night. If not for Whoreson's mansion…
Kain looked a tad uncomfortable. Ciri could see him out of the corner of her eye as she released her hair from its ties. "Everything alright?"
He turned and stilled for a moment taking in her looks with her hair falling freely over her shoulders. She looked different. Captivating.
"Yes. Why?"
"You appeared lost in thought." She swung her legs onto the bed and leaned back against the headboard, testing to see if she could find a state of calm and relaxation that would not send her into an immediate slumber.
"Is that alarming? To be lost in thought?"
He lay down next to her, with his hands beneath his head.
"Not necessarily." She smiled a little, watching him. "I suppose I simply struggle to read you sometimes."
"It's not all that interesting to read me," he smirked. "You'd be bored."
"I doubt that. All that knowledge." She brought two fingers to his forehead, gently pushing his bangs aside. "Must be fascinating in there."
"I don't constantly think about things I know, though. They come up when they're needed. As survival tools."
Ciri smiled, exhaling a small laugh. "I am aware. Still…"
She shifted to lay down beside him, facing him, hands under her cheek. "To me you are fascinating. And familiar, in a sense. We have had a lot of similar experiences in our lives."
A small confused sneer touched his mouth. "And it makes me fascinating? You merely aren't used to me yet, all the fascination comes from novelty."
Her brow furrowed, not in anger but contemplation. "You do that a lot," she said. "Tell me how I feel about you. It worries you that I am attached?"
He pondered. "Maybe. Because it's new to me. I'm not used to it."
"It is new to me, too. Getting attached to someone I was not introduced to as part of Geralt's circle."
"I guess I sort of am his circle - at least at being a witcher. Perhaps even age. I was there when he was young. Thinking about it makes me dizzy. I don't know how it's possible to miss five decades of one's own life."
Ciri thought about that. "Five decades are a lot. But like I told you before, I missed a few days of my life. Jumped straight into the future. Not consciously. It was as though my body sought safety and that was the only way to get it."
"But I'm not you."
(... Elder Blood... my sweet child...)
"Though that Crone appeared to have an opposite opinion," he added in a murmur.
"What do you mean?"
"She called me Elder Blood," he confessed. "When she cut me. I hope she lied."
Ciri propped up on her elbow, staring down at him with wide eyes. "Why would she lie?"
She could not see how the Crone would have anything to gain from such a lie. Other than to frighten him.
"She has her reasons for everything she does, just like any sentient creature out there."
He cast a passing glance over Ciri and saw a thick line of caked blood under her collarbones.
"What happened to you? And when?"
It took her a moment to understand what he was talking about. It didn't seem important.
"It's nothing. Just a scratch," she said impatiently. "Kain, what if she was not lying?"
"Any scratch can get infected or inflamed," he sat up, rubbing his hands. "Let me help before any of your friends notice and make a fuss - because that's why you hide it, don't you."
He didn't want to think about the Crone and the perspective of her sharing the true fact with him.
"I don't hide it. I just don't flaunt it. I am always covered in scratches and bruises." She sat up, as well, sensing his reluctance. "You can't ignore such a statement from a creature that powerful."
"What do you propose I do about it?"
He pulled her shirt collar down a few inches and held his other hand over her wound, focusing his magic. It slowly began to skin over leaving the dried blood behind.
Ciri closed her eyes while he worked because the sensation of his healing magic was intense.
She swallowed. "Be aware of it. Consider the possibility it might not be a lie. And that she might tell others."
Kain released her shirt collar and lay back down.
"I don't care who she tells. Whether it's true or not, it changes nothing in my life. I don't know what to do with that information. I'm just a witcher and a druid. And that's it."
"It changes everything," she said, peering down at him. "If anyone else finds out, you will be hunted. Like I am hunted. Like I have always been hunted."
"I had been hunted before. It doesn't change much."
"It changes everything," she whispered again, slipping off the bed and approaching the window, feeling a little lightheaded. She dreaded the thought of him facing more difficulties, of people seeking him out, trying to use him for their own nefarious purposes. As though his life and body were not his own.
But more than anything, selfishly, she delighted in the possibility she was not alone. That she never truly had been.
"Lie down, you need to sleep."
"I don't think that is going to happen," she said, still reeling, scrubbing a hand across her face.
"Don't make me regret telling you things I'm not supposed to voice."
"I think you were supposed to," she argued, slowly climbing back atop the bed to lay beside him. He did not want to hear it, she knew. He was probably scared. He should be.
Her hand found his atop the covers and she squeezed it gently, closing her eyes.
Kain didn't think so. He wasn't sure what compelled him to let her in on it, and it worried him. Losing self-control around her was the last thing he needed.
Behind her closed eyelids Ciri saw colors. Swirling, sparkling colors. Like a dull illusion of fireworks.
She squeezed Kain's hand a little tighter in her own. She knew she was getting ahead of herself, that her mind was being too eager, but it made sense. If it was true that Kain was of the Elder Blood, and she did not truly know how that could have come to be, then it made all the sense in the world that she had dreamed of him. That she was drawn to him and could feel him. Because he was like her.
It meant Ciri was no longer unique. No longer special. And what a fucking relief that would be.
Her grip on his hand was distracting, a bit more so than all things Master Linnar threw at Kain when he was learning to concentrate at the ages of three and four.
After a short while, Kain felt he could doze off.
Ciri could tell he was settling in to sleep, so she released her hold on his hand, allowing him to get comfortable.
She stayed awake for a long time, too jittery to fall asleep at once.
And when slumber finally claimed her, she descended into the dark where she did not want to be. Eredin was there. Why was he always there?
He watches her, and for the first time since Ciri can remember he is not smiling. His eyes are like two burning coals in the dark. Furious.
"Your Witcher killed my general," he says, voice dangerously soft. "I know it was not you. You are good, little one, but not that good. Not yet. You will be, though. Once I teach you."
She remains where she is, staying as far away from Eredin as possible. "There is nothing I want to learn from you."
Now his smile returns. Predatory. "Oh, but I have many lessons to teach you, little Swallow." He approaches, bracing his arms on either side of her. "Raising your sword against me, against my men… Tsk. Naughty."
She can't move. Why can I not move? She closes her eyes. It is just a dream. Her dream. She has to wake up.
As if he can see into her mind, Eredin's lips hover over her ear. "Your dream, Zireael? What makes you think such a thing? I was impressed by your display back at Kaer Morhen. I cannot wait to see what you will do when I cut your Witcher open."
Her eyes are still closed, fists clenched at her sides. "Wake up. Kain… Kain… Kain, I need you."
Kain started awake to her screams in his head - they sounded so real he thought the whole inn heard them. His medallion was buzzing against his chest, and Ciri's face was creasing in fear. She was asleep.
He put a hand on her forehead and closed his eyes, rousing her with a mental push.
Ciri gasped awake, torn from the darkness of Eredin's presence and into the present, bounding off the bed as though he was still hot on her heels. She could still feel his breath on her ear, on the side of her neck, and shuddered, suddenly very tempted to take advantage of Zoltan's earlier offer of a bath.
"I… Was I blinking?"
"No. It's all right." Kain sat up, watching her. "You're safe. You have been all this time. He can't get you here."
She nodded, breathing a little easier. "Alright, alright…" She leaned back against the wall and momentarily braced her hands on her knees, trying to calm herself and repeat the mantra Kain had instilled in her. "He can't touch me here… He can't touch me…"
Kain studied her with mild concern and sympathy, then beckoned. "Come back here. You're fine. You will remain fine."
She obeyed, because his offer was tempting and felt comforting before she could even get to him.
She pushed away from the wall and settled onto the bed, eventually laying down beside him again. Closer than they had been before and facing him.
"I could try to help you, but you're not an ordinary human, and it might not work on you."
"Help me how?" she asked, instantly hopeful.
"Empowered suggestion, hypnosis, if you will. But you'll have to let me make you believe it."
"Anything," she breathed, looking up at him. "What do you need me to do?"
He hovered over her, touching his fingers gently to her temples, locking his eyes to hers. He felt his power flow readily to her, making his fingertips tingle.
"You've had a long, tiresome day, Ciri. You want to close your eyes and sleep."
Her eyelids seemed heavier, it was a promising sign.
"You will relax into the pillows," he continued in a meditative voice, "let your eyes close, and sleep without any dreams, because you're not alone, you're under protection. You will sleep all night and wake up rested. Now close your eyes... and let yourself sleep."
At first she could not focus on anything other than the fact Kain was leaning over her and that his hands were on her skin.
But the more she tried to relax, the softer his voice seemed to become. Ciri felt pleasantly warm, safe, and satisfied.
She didn't take her eyes off his until the command fell from his lips and her eyelids slid closed.
She slept.
Kain leaned back from her gingerly, trying to not wake her with any accidental movement, but she was truly asleep. Her face was peaceful, beautiful, as though she were a higher being that somehow happened across this inn by one in a million chance.
He lay back down, watching her for a bit, waiting for any changes in her face or in his medallion.
But there was nothing alarming.
And he closed his eyes to drift off, too.