When the sky had darkened enough to welcome the first stars, the witchers rode into Mortara. Both wished they could ride on, but had to succumb to their horses' need for rest. They were making good time as it was.
Mortara was a small, boring town, and it seemed like many small towns and villages where nothing ever happens unless there's war burning and clashing around their fences.
The witchers trotted along the nearly empty streets until they reached the tavern. They had to unsaddle and groom the horses since the only hand there was at the stables was snoring away in the corner.
There was no problem with the room - no guests at this time; and every pair of eyes went to the newly arrived men as they proceeded to settle at the furthest table for a promised hot meal.
"Yee them witchas, ainch'ee?"
A frail-looking crone waddled up to them, her cane knocking against the wooden floors. She reached with it, dexterously catching a wooden chair from the nearest table, and yanked it to her. Grunting, she settled with effort, placed her cane between her knees, leaning onto it, and looked between them with amazingly lively, sparkling eyes, too bright to be set in a face so ancient there were only wrinkles making the landscape.
"We are," Geralt confirmed, dragging his spoon around a stew he had certain doubts about.
"Tis wondrous," the old woman said and cackled. "Be ages since I saw yee kind around 'ere. Be a manticore or some filth back in tha day. Yea... Never no filth after it. The witcha be a tall fella, yea, yea. Much handsome. Forget tha name... Much old I be, yee see. Forget thangs. Old age be curse, me gran say. Tha name tho, remind me of tha city, Vizima. Yea, yea. Vizim, tha name be mayhap. Yee know 'im?"
"Vesemir," Geralt surmised, eyeballing his spoonful of stew.
"Yea, yea, tha one!" the crone cackled, stomping her cane in emphasis. "He still round? Me gran say yee live on 'till all filth 's done for. Tis true?"
"We're mortals, just like any other man," Kain said. "We live longer, but not forever."
"Yea, yea," she nodded. "Who want forever, tis too long a time. Too long. I know... He round? Or perish? Gran say yee witchas perish lots."
"He died recently," the Witcher responded, swallowing the lump in his throat, and lowered his spoon back to the bowl to scoop another fill. "In battle."
"Aw, yea, tis nasty thang," the crone shook her head in lament. "Shame. Be such strong fella."
Her eyes were bright and curious as she flicked them between the men once again after a brief mournful pause.
"Whatch'ee doin here? A manticore again? Gran say filth be returnin until tha end of time. Tis true?"
"No manticore that we know about," Geralt sighed, scooping his third spoon he never ate. "Just passing through to Velen."
"Ai, Velen's a filthy place," the crone shared enthusiastically, leaning forth onto her cane. "Much filth happen there, yea. Much witchas be sought after in Velen, yea. Tis one time..."
The witchers exchanged looks and began to eat while the crone rode her tales out. They nodded and listened to what no towner's ear was an eager receptor any longer, and the crone's eyes shone brighter reflecting the memories as she lived through them once again.
Ciri found Geralt and Kain at a table in Mortara inn. She'd focused on Kain's energy and appeared somewhere close by, luckily out of view of the townspeople.
The old woman briefly paused her story and looked up as Ciri approached the witchers, her eyes squinted as if testing whether or not Ciri was someone she knew. She concluded that she didn't and shifted her gaze to the witchers, curious.
"Had you traveled with me you'd be eating fried chicken and baked apples by now," Ciri teased softly, aware that Geralt at the very least was not entirely pleased with his meal.
Kain had almost finished his stew and cracked a knowing smirk at Ciri's remark. Geralt snorted and shoved another spoon into his mouth.
"Yee a witcha wench?" the crone asked, her eyes narrowed suspiciously.
Ciri leaned against Geralt's back, hands resting on his shoulders. She smiled at the older woman. "I'm still in training. Maybe one day, if I work diligently enough."
"Trainin?" the old woman croaked. "Witchas be men, mah gran say. I never see wenches, not in mah long time. Yee freak like them men?"
"Oh, I'm far worse," Ciri replied with a crooked smirk. "Unique, really." She darted a knowing look at Kain. "Almost."
Ciri pushed off Geralt's shoulders and took the only available seat left.
"So, witchers, are you not going to introduce me to your new friend?"
Witchers had nothing to say, but their new acquaintance didn't lose her tongue.
"I'm Nelis," she said, grinning with her gums. "Be havin a chat with them witchas. Rare sight these days, yea, yea. Yee fight monsters here, youth wench? Shame tha beauty wastin."
Ciri looked her up and down. "Did you make the best of yours?"
The crone cackled, hunching over her cane. "Yea, I be tha wench of many a dream. Long gone tha days, yea. No miss whatcha no get back, mah gran say."
"Or what you never really had," Ciri mused, momentarily caught in her own thoughts. She snapped out of it and looked to Geralt. "Staying here for the night?"
"Yes," Geralt nodded, battling his next spoonful. "Horses need their rest. I guess it's not amiss on our side, either."
"Yea, nothin good like sleep," the old Nelis said. "Not when yee old tho. More time wastin b'fore yee grave."
"Yes, you look like you're getting close," Ciri commented absentmindedly, gaze still fixed on Geralt. "Just wanted to make sure you're safe. Like you would me."
A quick baffled look bounced between the two witchers, but Nelis seemed unoffended.
"Yea, wench, I be gettin close for long. Grave no want me tho. Them people I know be in graves now, and I be livin an' livin. Life be doin its own thang, mah gran say."
"Is that why you sought these two out?" Ciri gestured to the witchers. "Trouble clings to these two like lusty women."
Geralt chocked on his stew and coughed, staring at his ward. "Ciri..."
"Ney, jus' chat for good old day," Nelis said, sneering obliviously. "Be tellin' stories. Best time be spend with them stories, mah gran say."
"Stories are lovely. I used to love them when I was a child," Ciri mused, then stood, her attention on the witchers again. "I suppose I will check in on you again tomorrow unless you somehow reach your destination before the sun sets."
"Long way to Velen, yea," the crone said. "Be risin with tha sun to ride there."
"We shall make it a night, then," Kain said, rising.
"Yea, I be goin," Nelis agreed, and propped her knotted hands on her cane forcing her frail body off the chair. Something creaked in her joints, but then she peered up at them three with her bright eyes, too vivacious for her age. "Be seein yee witchas, and yee wench. Keep tha filth away."
She started toward the door, her cane knock-knocking on the floor.
Geralt pushed the unfinished stew away. "I guess I shall make it a night," he said, and looked a question between the two.
"I'll come soon," Kain reacted.
Ciri trailed the old woman with her gaze as well, the palms of her hands tingling.
Then something she'd said resurfaced. "Velen? You told her you were going there? Why?"
The Witcher shrugged dismissively. "Said the first name in the area to just answer her question. She wanted to know if we came for a monster here."
"We said we were just coming through," Kain added.
"So your destination is still Novigrad?" She looked from one to the other, a smidgen of suspicion to her gaze.
"Of course," they both answered, and Geralt added, "No other business until we settle our own plans. You know this."
"Mhmm," Ciri hemmed. She wasn't entirely convinced, but dropped the subject. "Have you purchased a room for the night?"
"I'm going there right now," Geralt said. "No bath for now, but I guess I'll have one in Novigrad soon enough. Everything all right in there?"
Ciri shrugged. "The sorceresses are whining. Avallac'h is sulking. Zoltan is all by himself. Dandelion is entertaining the grieving ladies of Oxenfurt."
Geralt chuckled softly at the last piece of news - which wasn't new - and felt a little homesick for the times when he and Dandelion were traveling together with no worries about any Wild Hunt.
"And Yen?" he asked.
"Keeping busy," Ciri replied cryptically. He could figure out what that meant for himself. "Everyone is missing you. So you'd best hurry back."
"It only depends on our horses." He smiled, pulling her to him for a kiss on her forehead, then turned towards the stairs. "I'll start the night and hope I sleep soon." He shot Kain a gander, adding, "Don't be long," and went.
Ciri smiled crookedly at Kain. "Does he monitor your bedtime now?"
"No, it's about traveling together," he said stepping outside the tavern for some fresh air. "Both need to be equally rested." He peered at her with wily interest. "How's your bedtime while no one watches you?"
"I wouldn't know," Ciri said, slyly pressing herself against him outside of the tavern. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she looked up at his beautiful face. "Someone always seems to be watching."
He frowned, wavering between confusion and suspicions. "What does that mean? Eredin is visiting your dreams again?"
She shook her head. "No. Not for a while now. Even without the potions. I'm not worried about him coming there anymore."
She let her hands subtly roam Kain's chest, pausing every now and then to inspect the details of his armor. "I just mean it's rare that I am alone."
He didn't move and hid his uneasiness behind a small smile. "Isn't it what you wanted while on the run? You've recovered your family and friends. Should be a blessing to not be alone anymore."
"Who said I was complaining?" she asked softly, tilting her head back slightly to look at him from behind thick lashes. "Of course, it makes it harder to find moments like these."
"Moments when you're not alone yet again?" he jibed.
"Moments when you and I don't have an audience," she corrected, resting her hands on his chest.
"Do we have secrets from your family?"
"No. But there are certain things I'd like to do to you that's not in front of Geralt."
Kain didn't like the insinuation, but kept an inscrutable mien and silence, studying her.
Ciri leaned in, gently brushing her lips over his, searching for some kind of response that he was secretly as hungry for this as she was.
His chest tightened in longing and regret. "I gave you a no, remember?" he whispered. It was physically painful to say it.
"Because you think you'll hurt me. Not because you don't want me," she whispered in return.
He swallowed. "I don't want to hurt you."
She pulled back ever so slightly so she could meet his eyes. "And what if you don't? What if you make me happy? What if I make you happy? Is it not worth at least exploring? Just to see?"
Kain sighed, his eyes closing. Maybe if he didn't see hers so close... "I don't know if it's wise to try anything while the Hunt seeks to get us both," he ventured.
"Why?" she whispered, watching him. "There might not be a later."
He took a deep breath and peered at her, firmer. "There will be if we're smart and careful enough. But I don't want to keep you suspended, Ciri. I told you no to free you. Don't wait for me."
She pushed away from him, but smiled a little. "What choice do I have when you're the one I want?"
"Forgive me," he said quietly, feeling the weight of every letter. "I can't."
She tried to swallow down the bitter disappointment, the humiliation and heartache of rejection. And she found she could. For a very brief time. Long enough to get out of his sight.
"I should go," she said softly. "Take care of my father on the road. I will see you tomorrow."
A faint nod was all he could manage, and when she was gone, he leaned heavily against the wall of the tavern, his hand clutching at his chest. Tears stung the back of his eyes, but he took a few long breaths and kept them in. They washed over his aching heart like salty waves on an open wound as he walked back to their room.
Ciri stalked off to the edge of town and ran towards the treeline up ahead. Blood was rushing in her ears, her heart pounding, and the tears that fought to escape finally freed themselves once she was engulfed in the dark forest.
She should have known. She shouldn't have pushed. She could have lived with the uncertainty a little while longer.
With her back to a thick tree trunk, Ciri sank to the ground, trying to compose herself and the emotions that raged through her body. They felt stronger than usual; overwhelming. And she struggled to rein them in.
As she cried silently, a rustling of a nearby shrub caught her attention. She stilled, more out of curiosity than fear, and watched as a grey rabbit emerged a few seconds later, its nose to the ground in search of food.
The rabbit looked so sweet, so fluffy. Ciri imagined how soft its pelt would feel beneath her fingertips. How its blood would stain her pale skin. How it would shriek if she put her hands around its neck.
She stared. The rabbit's nose twitched as it watched her cautiously through the darkness. And it did indeed scream when Ciri suddenly reached out with her magic to crush the little body, like Kain had just crushed her heart.
The death was almost instant, but the pleasure of the kill remained for far longer. Until Ciri was able to brush herself off and travel back to Novigrad.
Geralt was quiet for a while, his brow furrowed; a deep line creasing the bridge of his nose as if carved in by a dagger. He was studying Kain who sat against the wall where he slid down. "How did she take it?"
"Her face went cold, she stepped away. She wouldn't show me how she took it. But I know how it felt."
"Dammit," Geralt breathed, running a hand through his hair. "Maybe you shouldn't have cut her hope while we know she's vulnerable."
Kain looked at him, pained and disbelieving. "And then what? The further in, the more painful. Her heart would not just break but shatter. And we don't know what would happen then. She can overcome this and get stronger."
"And what if it makes her more unstable? More reckless? Or suicidal? Have you thought about that?"
"Of course I have!" Kain's eyes blazed, but it was rather fear than anger fueling it, Geralt noted. "Do you remember the Bald Mountain? Things she does for people she loves? I don't want her to burn the worlds down to protect or avenge me."
"But she will, anyway!"
"If it cools down in her through this pain, maybe she won't."
Geralt scoffed, then pondered. "You might be overestimating Avallac'h's power and plans. He can't control either of you."
"You didn't see him, Geralt. He had no doubt in his eyes that he would win either way. The stronger Ciri's feelings are, the closer she gets to where he could manipulate her. He knows how and he has his powers to calculate and orchestrate things. Even if we forget about him - there's Eredin. There's the Lodge."
Geralt fell heavily back onto his bed, rubbing his forehead. "I kept telling her to live her life and keep her heart open despite the Hunt. And what, it's a pile of horseshit now when we keep pushing her to the opposite? She's had enough of broken hopes, Kain. Why adding more until she breaks? I can't lose her again. I just can't." He bolted up again, staring at his brother almost pleadingly. "I can't, do you understand?"
Kain responded with a repentant look. "Love is not always the best solution for saving someone, Geralt. It's a blade with two sharp edges."
"A shard of ice," Geralt mused quietly, staring at the ceiling until the candle stub burned out.
Yennefer dressed after waking up alone and went in search of Ciri. She could hear a small buzz of activity in the Inn but none of the faces in the dining room below had belonged to Ciri. Was she still here? Had she got up to much trouble the night before? Yennefer was suddenly worried. She closed her eyes, using her magic to probe for the distinct energy that surrounded her daughter. She expelled a sound of relief when she was convinced Ciri was upstairs in one of the rooms. Kain's room. She walked back up the stairs and knocked gently on the door once she approached it.
"Ciri?" Yennefer called softly, pushing open the door as soon as she felt she'd given enough of a warning.
"You can come in," Ciri said, darting a glance towards the opening door while lacing up her boots. She hadn't slept much and hoped it didn't show.
"Did you get enough sleep last night?"
"Like a baby," Ciri replied and felt like that wasn't too much of a lie. Infants were notoriously bad sleepers. "And you? Feeling rested?"
"I am. I pushed it a bit too hard yesterday. You sure you want to join me at the bank today? Might be a bit of a tedious task. No ice swimming will be necessary."
"Of course. We're a team, right?" Ciri smiled and stood.
"We are," Yennefer agreed, twisting around to face the door. "Mind if we skip breakfast?"
"Not at all." Ciri wasn't hungry anyway. She felt sick. "So, what's the plan?" she asked, following Yennefer outside.
Yennefer went for their room to collect the lockbox from where they'd hidden it the night before, and then the stables, instructing the stableman to set up a horse for them.
"The plan is to see if they'll be willing to let us peek at what Amos gave them, with what little of his banking tabs we managed to find. He has been dead awhile so… it might be that they know."
Ciri nodded thoughtfully. "And if they don't let us? I assume you won't take no for an answer?"
"Do you think I should?" Yennefer asked.
The stableman returned minutes later, guiding a brown and white horse, saddled and at the ready. He handed the reins over to Yennefer, the horse snorting softly, making sounds of what she knew to be fear, tugging at the cord in her hand when it saw or thought of approaching Ciri.
"Calm," Yennefer murmured as soothingly as she could, jerking on the animal's reins, her violet eyes narrowing on it until it stilled and allowed her to draw it forward. She waited a beat and then hoisted herself onto its back, waiting on Ciri to tend to her own horse.
Ciri eyed the animal with narrowed eyes. All the horses seemed wary of her these days. Even her own mare.
But not enough to deny her a ride.
"Do you ever take no for an answer?" She climbed atop Kelpie and set off down the road.
"No," Yennefer replied, letting her heels tap against the flanks of her horse, her hand sneaking into her pocket and coming out with a small round casket made of whale bone. Women liked to keep facial cream or eye shadow in such. The enchantress opened the box, dipped her finger and applied a few dabs of cream to her cheekbones and forehead. She hid the casket and pulled on her hood as they headed through the main portion of the city for the bank located in the middle. Appreciatively it wasn't as busy as it might have been had the Wild Hunt not been such a prominent threat only a week ago. Outside guards stood in their usual positions at the ready to defend their Master's borrowed treasures. Once they cast a glance her way, however, they couldn't stop staring.
Yennefer secured her reins to one of the posts outside the large double-storey building, waiting on Ciri to do the same and then headed inside. There was no one else waiting to be served and she doubted there would be for quite some time. A threat of death was likely to neutralize any business.
She dropped the hood and the dwarven scribes working behind their desks stared away, silly smiles claiming their faces. A dozen of them jumped off their seats, offering their services and asking to show her to the bank owner. She nodded at one of them, and he beamed as if blessed by a goddess.
Vivaldi was behind his desk in his office, working on his books. His eyes widened, narrowing as recognition dawned on his features.
"Lady Yennefer of Vengerberg!" he greeted, cracking a wide grin.
"Vimme Vivaldi," she returned, applying her most charming of smiles. The dwarf grinned even wider, fussing around her pulling a chair. He barely noticed Ciri, and she had to pull a chair for herself.
"Come to check on your interest-bearing accounts?" he cooed, his eyes sparkling. "I have some letters for you, my lady. Came from our Vengerberg bank, for they believed you were here."
Yennefer had one account for each of the cities she regularly visited, using it to make sure that her bases were covered when it came to the inn and other travel expenses.
Ciri was fascinated with the way every male member of the bank staff suddenly seemed to have lost their wit. They were looking at Yennefer as though she was the sun after thirty days of darkness.
She'd seen it before. It had in fact happened during another bank-visit in Gors Velen when Ciri was a child. But it continued to amaze her.
Ciri kept her mouth shut, for Yennefer seemed to know what she was doing, and Ciri did not. She could wield a sword better than most men but when it came to trickery and subterfuge, Ciri had a lot to learn.
Vimme got to his feet, vanished for a minute, and when he returned, he was holding a series of letters. She already knew what most of them contained. Updates of the state of her business in Vengerberg.
He set them down on the desk in front of her, smiling slightly, expecting her to peel through them and to offer up any instructions should he made any changes to her account.
Yennefer drew them toward her but made no move to open them. She set the lockbox down in front of her and extended one of the surviving pieces of paper that held the details for whatever Amos var Ypsis had decided to store there toward the dwarf.
Vimme read the details, gray brows as big as caterpillars knitted together lightly.
"If memory serves this account belongs to someone who is rumored to be deceased. How did you come upon it?"
"Luck," Yennefer retorted, her smile still in place, refusing too detailed an explanation. "Does it matter? Finders keepers."
Vimme grinned and laughed softly, striding away from the counter to check his ledgers perched on their usual place on a podium out of public eye. A single guard stood beside it, his gaze focused on Yennefer like a bloodhound, his sword glinting as if it had never been used in combat. Another two guards were in the far back of the bank closer to the safe that stored the treasures, their features equally hard, and their gazes slicing across the room to fix on her face.
While Yennefer waited, she busied herself with looking over the letters.
The guards' intense stares didn't escape Ciri's notice. They were watching the sorceress as if she was a threat - which she was if she wanted to be.
It didn't matter, of course. None of them would ever get close enough to Yennefer to do any harm. Ciri would see to that. Her palms were already tingling...
"Anything interesting?" Ciri asked softly in regards to Yennefer's letters. Who was even writing her? Most of her family and friends were here in Novigrad, as far as Ciri wad concerned.
"Indeed. It's an update on the profit earned at my boutique in Vengerberg." Yennefer hadn't been around to deal with her actual business for months. She handed Ciri one of the letters to read.
When Vimme approached again, he was holding the slip of paper and another document. He set them both down in front of her.
"As you know, rumors of someone's death are occasionally incorrect and as an additional measure have forced our banks to change procedures. Without this slip, you cannot collect. However, since you do have the tab needed to make the claim, with it also comes the tax and storage fees."
Yennefer had expected that.
The Vivaldi family wouldn't be in the position they were in, with banks in multiple cities, if not for the active way they protected their reserves. She also knew that if an account wasn't tended to in fifteen years or payments were backdated or missed, that they would take it upon themselves to claim whatever they were stowing in order to make up for the money owed.
"It says here… you expect me to sign for almost nine thousand crowns," Yennefer added, a nail grazing the space beneath the inked amounts. "Is that an error?"
Vimme smiled, shook his head and proceeded to break down the amount for her. Some of the total belonged to tax, other to security, another to extra insurance and another the usual daily rate. He'd even shown her the reduction given.
"What is it?" Yennefer asked, trying to come to terms with the amount in her head and the probable nothing she could be paying for.
"I couldn't tell you," Vimme replied, remorseful, his smile ever professional and friendly.
"But you're sure you have it?"
Vimme's features softened as he nodded, desperate to satisfy her.
"If I was willing to pay you a hundred crowns, would I be able to see it?" Yennefer asked in her most flirtatious tone. Vimme's eyes widened softly and then she saw him shake his head.
"I'm afraid not."
The dwarf knew her reputation of duality and it seemed to override the added charms she'd applied. Yennefer brushed it off, letting the smile return to her face although she was exasperated.
"In that case, apologies for wasting your time."
"Not at all, Lady Yennefer," Vimme said, tipping his head courteously. "Can I interest you on the state of your own account?"
She gestured for him to do so. It had been awhile since she tended to her own money affairs.
Ciri eyed the dwarf as he shuffled off again to collect new papers, her voice low. "Can you read his mind? Does he really not know what is in Var Ypsis' vault or is he lying?"
"I already did. He gave me nothing of use. Vimme is a respectable man. He and his family don't work underhandedly and if I pay what is owed on Var Ypsis's taxes – he'd show me. Problem is, I don't know what is in there and I'm not willing to throw thousands of hard-earned crowns away on unusable paper or some magical bauble. What I need is very specific."
"I assume that we are stopping by again later? After closing time?" Ciri whispered so to not attract the attention of the guards.
"Are you suggesting we become thieves, darling daughter?" Yennefer teased.
She reached for Ciri's arm and patted gently as the dwarf returned from his podium, her investment details in hand. Vimme sat down in front of her again, his eyes darting between Yennefer and the sheet of paper he'd written the necessary details on, talking her through what he'd gathered. He was good at his job. One of the main reasons their family was so successful. "Thank you," she said once Yennefer was satisfied with the information shared. "And thank you for the letters."
Vimme nodded courteously, getting to his feet as he saw Yennefer begin to stand, his chair scraping against the floor with an inherent clumsiness she knew was uncharacteristic of his shrewd nature.
"It's been lovely to see you again, Lady Yennefer," Vimme said as he circled his desk, his gaze briefly darting to Ciri before returning to Yennefer so he could take and kiss the back of her hand. "We thank you for your patronage."
Yennefer withdrew her hand, guiding Ciri toward the door, the guards' eyes on them as they walked, Vimme a few steps behind. She glanced back and he stopped as if he realized he had no need to show them the way. She smiled lightly, slid her hood on over her raven curls and headed in search of her horse so they could make their way back to the inn.
"A lot of trouble to go through to get Geralt his memory back," Ciri pointed out when they left their horses in the care of the stableman a little while later. "Do you think it will be worth it?"
"Do you?" Yennefer countered as they made their way from the stable. "Geralt and I have spoken very little about getting his memories back and I'm trying to be patient like he implored I be. However, I guess, I'm taking his questions about what he'd remembered at the temple as a sign of hope. He hasn't said anything new to you about his feelings since our arrival at the temple?"
"What if he doesn't want to remember?" Ciri asked. "What if he is just trying to stall, not give you a definite answer?"
Ciri had been upbeat about their reunion before and now her tone implied that she was anything but, was that because Geralt had, in fact, spoken to her? Yennefer's heart took a sickening dive and her vision blurred. She positioned herself in front of the door like a weak barricade, her gaze fixed on Ciri's face.
"Has he said something to you I should know?"
Ciri shook her head. "No. Nothing."
She gently brushed Yennefer's arm aside so that she could enter the inn.
Yennefer trailed her inside.
"If you're worried you'll end up hurting my feelings, Ciri, I can assure you we're already past that. I'd rather the truth."
Ciri turned to look at the sorceress over her shoulder, pausing. "I'm not lying, Yennefer. Getting Geralt to talk about his feelings is like pulling teeth."
"A sensible interpretation," Yennefer agreed, sweeping her hood off her head gently, smoothing out the curls that had been trapped. "I wonder if Zoltan has kept us a smidgen of breakfast."
"We can make our own if he hasn't. We've got time." Ciri approached the counter. "Dandelion should be back today."
"A lot of time," Yennefer agreed. The sun wasn't bound to set for hours yet. She headed for the kitchen to look at what food stuffs they had to offer. "Zoltan's had word from Dandelion?"
"No, I did. I went to see him last night while you rested." Ciri took a seat, watching the sorceress' search.
"Oh," Yennefer murmured. She found a pan, greased it and with a wave of her hand prepared the fire within the stoves pit so it could start to heat. "Did you check in on Triss as well?"
"No." It hadn't even crossed Ciri's mind, if she was honest with herself. "Yennefer," she began cautiously, "tell me the story of how you and Geralt met. For the very first time."
Yennefer had told Ciri that Triss was sick because of something she'd caught from the people she'd been helping, so it was strange that Ciri didn't look in on her to make sure she was healthy.
Was Ciri still that mad because of what Triss had done or attempted to do with Kain?
Yennefer broke four eggs into the pan and walked it over to the oven, sliding it onto the flat surface of stone she could feel had started to radiate enough warmth.
"We met for the first time in Rinde. I'd been staying there for a while, which was most certainly a heaven-sent for Geralt as Dandelion had got himself cursed and would have died had they not found me."
"Because of the djinn?" Ciri asked. She'd heard the story before as a child but wondered if they had kept certain details from her that they might be willing to share now Ciri was grown up.
Yennefer nodded and turned the pan as needed to evenly bake their eggs.
"They'd been fishing and found a container with a mage's seal, by some arguable means the container got broken and chaos ensued."
"And did you know from the first moment you saw him that you wanted him?"
"Sexually, yes. Geralt had an energy and reputation that was exhilarating – a challenge – and I, like most, didn't mind the inkling of a short-term adventure presented by such a handsome brute."
Brute? Ciri was puzzled by that. Geralt had always been so gentle.
"And he felt the same way about you?"
Using a cloth, Yennefer removed the pan from the oven, gesturing with her free hand for Ciri to get plates.
"I would assume so, later that day we coupled for the first time. And then many times thereafter."
Ciri wrinkled her nose. It was automatic and just instinct.
"And then what?" she asked, rising to fetch the plates. "You did not live together from that moment on, right?"
"No… well, yes. It had never been a conscious aim for either of us. We never even spoke of living together at any time in our relationship back then. It just naturally happened. At first, Dandelion had joined us when we left Rinde, but by the third day he'd come to the realization that he was better off on his own and wanted to head home. One brush with death was enough and the troubadour and I had been getting on each other's nerves. Dandelion scarcely even tried to talk Geralt into going with him, and by then, neither of us were inclined to part from the other. There was still so much to explore. To know. And we did that thoroughly. Days turned into weeks, both of us working respective job prepositions as they fell into our laps on the road, until eventually we ended up in Vengerberg."
Yennefer scraped the eggs off onto their plates, setting aside the pan so she could grab them each some freshly made bread cooling beneath a dishtowel.
"Where your parents once lived?" Ciri asked, settling down to start their meal. She'd already found them cups of water. "Had they passed by then?"
"After becoming a mage I never saw my parents again. Nor do I want to, even if by some marvel they happen to still be alive," Yennefer answered and scooped some egg onto her fork.
"I know how you feel." Ciri could do without seeing Emhyr ever again as well. Yet that didn't seem to be an option. "So what is the plan for tonight? How do we get inside the bank? I assume it is protected by magic?"
Yennefer had the decency to look abashed by Ciri's agreement. The subject was a sore one.
She set down her fork and swallowed the food in her mouth, magically checking if Philippa was holed up upstairs eavesdropping on them. She couldn't sense her.
"As far as I'm aware – it isn't protected by magic. Mages can be a costly affair, and we aren't the most trustworthy of individuals, a confliction with bankers who are paranoid by nature and work hard to limit outside influence that could possibly take real control of their assets. Especially the Vivaldis. However, they have magic dampeners in their safes making it impossible to cast spells inside, a bunch of locks, and as you saw, a number of soldiers to take the brunt of any attack, day or night. Our best plan of action would be to go in through the second floor. Once on the balcony, I could make sure my information is correct about their magic and you could take us the rest of the way in. The problem would be the ledger on the first floor as it's protected by at least three guards."
"We can just knock them out," Ciri said absentmindedly, cutting up her egg. "I can take care of that. Or," she added, noticing Yennefer's dubious look, "don't you have some sort of spell that can do that for us?"
"Depends on how many guards Vimme has to secure the bank at night. Could be more. We should be able to figure it out – it's finding the item in question that'll take time. Don't suppose in your travels you happened to learn anything about banking ledgers and the codes they use for their storage?"
"Can't say that I did. I robbed people, not banks," Ciri admitted, shoveling food into her mouth.
"We'll figure it out. It can't be too complex."
That was the hope.
Yennefer finished off her eggs and bread with more grace than Ciri, rising when she was done to tend to their dishes at the back of the kitchen.