For the next few hours and until it was pitch black outside, Yennefer hadn't moved, content to quietly lie beside Ciri, lighting the candles to chase away the shadows with a mere flick of her wrist when it was time. She'd never been a fan of the dark.
"Ciri?" Yennefer murmured gently, trying to rouse her.
Ciri stirred, blinked to get the sleep out of her eyes, and slowly sat up. "Is it time?" Judging by the darkness outside, it seemed to be.
"It's dark," Yennefer added to make it clearer. "How are you feeling? Does it still hurt?"
If Yennefer had succeeded with her healing, the pain should have diminished and become no more than a hum. By morning, should Ciri not further agitate the wound, it would hopefully be healed entirely.
"It's fine," Ciri said after taking a few seconds to decide.
She pushed herself out of the bed and went in search of her trousers.
"Are we going by foot or horse?"
"Foot," Yennefer said and stretched to limber up and work the kinks of stress from her neck and shoulders. "Can you take us straight to the balcony?"
Yennefer could do it herself, but her portals would act as a bright beacon in the night before they even got there and alert the guards.
"I should be able to," Ciri said, pulling on her trousers and boots. "But it might be best to approach the bank on foot, just so we can make sure no one is actually watching."
Yennefer nodded her agreement, pulling on her cloak, as black as the rest of her attire, confident that it would easily drag her into the shadows around the city.
"Might be easier if you check to see that there aren't any soldiers we might have missed around the bank once we get there."
"I will," Ciri assured.
They made their way through Novigrad as stealthily as possible, avoiding the most crowded streets and keeping their heads down whenever they did run into someone.
Twenty minutes later, they were across the street from Vivaldi Bank. It looked dark and closed from the outside, but as Yennefer and Ciri already knew, the place was guarded. Indoors as well as out.
"Two at the front doors as expected," Ciri murmured when she returned to Yennefer after a brief scouting-round. "No one else outside. One would have to be a skilled climber to reach the balconies and I assume they have some sort of alarm system in place in case of intruders."
"Possibly," Yennefer responded, her gaze fixed on the double-storey building ahead. Gratefully, the guards were easier to spot as some were carrying torches to see where they were going and making themselves visible. She also assumed that there were others out there who weren't.
"I won't know about the magic until I get closer."
Yennefer extended a hand toward Ciri for her to take so she could do her jump.
A second later, they were stood on the balcony furthest from the main entrance. They both stilled, waiting, listening for any signs the guards may have caught sight of Ciri's green flare.
When nothing happened, Ciri relaxed ever so slightly and stood back to watch the double doors leading to a study inside. She tried to feel for magic but wasn't sure if what she did feel came from the establishment itself or Yennefer beside her.
"What do you see?"
There was minimal light inside, echoing off the wall as one of the guards inside passed the hall. Yennefer pressed a hand to the surface of the door and let her magic extend beyond the barrier to touch the inside, to caress along the walls.
"Nothing," Yennefer said after a moment's deliberation. "It seems Vimme has resorted to using more magic blocks."
In the past, she knew it hadn't been that way, that it was as she'd said, but she assumed that with the threat of the Wild Hunt and people needing money to get as far away from Novigrad or together as a bribe, the dwarven banker was taking extra precaution. That didn't mean she couldn't work it from the outside.
She focused on the door, on the lock bridged between the interior and the outside, and heard it snap open. Yennefer waited a beat to make sure they hadn't alerted the guard inside, and then carefully opened it so they could squeeze in.
Ciri let Yennefer go first, and carefully closed the door behind them. It wouldn't do for someone on the street to notice it open and alert the authorities.
The study was richly decorated, befitting of the master of a bank. Probably where Vivaldi did most of his private business. But the ledger they needed to consult was downstairs. At least, it had been during their daytime visit.
"Are you certain he doesn't lock the ledger away come night?" Ciri whispered. "Does he trust his guards with such delicate information?"
"I'm not sure of anything when it comes to banking," Yennefer answered in a whisper. She moved toward the desk, letting her hands slide along the wood so she could attempt to open the doors or find some secret panel locked away in the wood for the really special treasures. "I suppose we should have spent more than an hour actually observing Vimme and his actions." However, it was too late for that. They were already inside and they could only hunt now. She found a set of what felt like keys, quills, and parchments, but she could see nothing in the dark.
"See if the guard has moved."
Ciri moved quietly to the door leading out to the second-floor hallway. She opened it cautiously and peered outside. There was a dim light coming from downstairs but no one seemed to currently be too close to Ciri and Yennefer's location.
"I'm just sayin', my cousin works in the city dungeons and he sees far more action in a week than we do in an entire year."
Ciri leaned forward, close to almost touching the banister in front of her. From where she was stood, she could see down onto the entrance hall of the bank, as well as the two guards who were positioned inside to watch it.
Both wore identical armor and their helmets concealed whether they were fair or dark. But their voices carried easily.
"And you think that's a good thing?" the one who had not spoken before uttered, staring at his companion through the semi-darkness.
The first one shrugged. "No one robs banks anymore. Not in the big cities. Too risky. Makes our job bloody borin'. And obsolete."
"I'd hardly call us obsolete," the second guard huffed, clearly taking offence at that statement. "Stop that!" he continued when the other used his sword to lean on like a cane. "You'll scuff the floors! And that'll come out of our earnings!"
Ciri pushed away from the two bickering and headed back to Yennefer.
"Still downstairs. Ignorant and preoccupied with other matters."
"Keep a close eye on the hallway. I'll try and find a candle."
Yennefer had attempted her magic, but the blocks were fully set in place, and, unless she knew where to find them, it was useless to try and fight against it. They varied in sizes and could be disguised as anything. The best she could hope for was candles and something with which to light them. Vimme, thankfully, did have to attend to night-work at times and the candles weren't too hard to find. She remembered them from the first time he'd led her into his office many years ago to help her open an account, and nothing had changed about where they were. Only the opulent candleholder they were attached to was useless. She snatched one of the candles free and looked for the matches to light it.
She hadn't needed to light anything in this manner in near on a decade.
She glanced in Ciri's direction, returned to the desk and crouched, lighting the candle behind the desk. A second later there was a flame and she was able to dig through the drawers, being careful not to mess it up too much or throw anything around. The ledger wasn't there.
"It must be on the podium. Or in the safe."
"Both downstairs," Ciri noted, moving away from the doorway.
She took a look at Yennefer, swept an errant lock of hair off the sorceress' shoulder, and experimentally cupped her breasts to make them more prominent. "Can you take out the guards with your... charms?"
Yennefer double-checked the desk, blew out the light, and, once it had cooled, slipped it into her coat pocket along with the matches. She was going to need it again. She moved to join Ciri at the door.
"I could, but it doesn't prevent them from seeing my face and I've no magic I can use in here to prevent them from remembering. I was hoping to avoid force. A distraction would suffice."
"Avoid force?" Ciri pondered. That hadn't been her thinking. She shot a glance towards the perch overlooking the first floor. "I suppose I can go make some ruckus in one of the other rooms. But you will have to be quick."
Yennefer frowned slightly, jotting the lack of understanding with regard to avoidance of the fact that Ciri was a lot like Geralt. They both expected to fight.
"What if they corner you in a room?" Not that she couldn't magically bounce out of it. "Let's take a minute to think about this clearly. Can you use your magic here?"
Ciri looked back into the study, and a moment later, she appeared there.
"Seems like," she whispered, returning to Yennefer's side again.
"Great," Yennefer said. The fact that one of them was able to move was a real help. "Then you'll distract the guards with a bit of noise and in the process, if you're able, lock them in the room. Or at least some of them. I know you've been practicing different branches of your magic with Avallac'h and Kain. Do you think you'd be able to do that? Lock a door? Or apply a barrier while I try and look into the ledger?"
"Of course I can," Ciri surmised. "Remain in the shadows until the coast is clear."
Truthfully, Ciri had no idea how to magically barricade a door. But she did know how keys worked.
She made her way down the hall until she found what appeared to be a storage room, filled with archived scrolls and pieces of parchment. Removing the key from the door inside, she held it in her palm and ran for the nearest cupboard, crashing into it with her shoulder taking the brunt, forcing it over onto its side with a thundering crack.
Grinning with mischief and mirth, the girl waited and listened for the suddenly alert voices coming from downstairs.
Yennefer waited as ordered, cringing when she heard the loud bang from somewhere below and the rush of curses as the guards downstairs started shouting amongst themselves.
"Did you hear that?! Where did that come from?"
"I'm sure everyone in Novigrad heard that!"
There was a distant rustling and the distinct sound of boots as the guards rushed to check out the noise. Yennefer waited a few minutes, making sure no one had decided to charge upstairs, and then slowly headed for the stairs, picking up the pace when she didn't and wasn't able to see anyone. Unlike the upper floor, these held more light, candles placed in strategic corners to make it easier for the guards to see who'd come in at the doors or windows they deemed vulnerable.
She cursed the magic blocks, her cloak gathered about her legs so she wouldn't trip as she descended the stairs at a near crab crawl.
She could still see the guards, hear their snarls of frustration as they tried to push their way into the room, threatening to cut down anyone or anything inside.
Ciri waited, her grin spreading as the guards pounded on the door until it rattled in its frame.
Then she jumped, leaving the room behind to fall in line next to Yennefer downstairs. "Need to hurry," she urged. "They won't stay up there forever."
Yennefer gasped softly at Ciri's sudden appearance, cursing herself inwardly. She'd have killed for a warning.
The enchantress surged forward, straightening as she appeared at the podium, preparing to remove the ledger from the surface so she could look at it on the floor. A quick feel around and inspection told her that the book had been secured. No wonder Vimme felt comfortable leaving it there and why the guards had stuck close to its side instead of moving it elsewhere.
"I need light," she demanded, gesturing to one of the candles already burning. "Quickly."
Ciri obliged the sorceress, grasping the nearest candelabra and holding it close to illuminate the podium. While Yennefer's attention was on the book, Ciri's remained on their surroundings. She could still hear the two guards struggling upstairs, but had no idea if there were more of them lurking nearby. In the dark, the bank seemed an ominous place indeed.
"Have they secured it with magic?"
"Chains and a lock," Yennefer answered once she'd returned with the light. She knew Ciri could take her sword to it and that they could pry it off, but putting it back would be the hard part and the integrity of the book was also at risk. She hopefully didn't need to search it that long for the answers. The code itself seemed pretty straightforward. Some she'd even recognized from past tabs she'd received from the back for her goods.
She slid a hand into her cloak for the one containing Amos's details, comparing them to every bout of numbers as she went along the lists until eventually coming upon his mention on page twelve.
There was another series of numbers beside that on the tab with only a small measure of detail.
Letters.
She made a point of memorizing the numbers.
"We need to find the room they store the treasures in."
She snapped the book shut gently, being careful not to disrupt the chain that ran through it, dropping to the ground when she heard the approach of the returning guards. There wasn't time for her to get anywhere she wouldn't be seen.
"How do you think the bookcase fell over?"
"Why did we even have to clean it up?"
"Think it was the wind?"
"Who fuckin' cares! You know Master Vimme would have a seizure if we left it in a mess!"
"Could you tell if anything was stolen?"
At the sound of the approaching guards, Ciri grasped Yennefer's arm and teleported. They appeared in a dark and damp hallway a second later.
"Basement," Ciri whispered, trying to not bounce her voice off the stone walls. "I assumed there was one. Got lucky."
The candle had gone out during the jump, and Ciri focused her powers to light it again. It was nowhere near as quick or graceful as Yennefer or Kain would have managed, but she got the job done.
"None of the rooms upstairs seemed to hold much of value. Means it's either on the main floor or down here."
"Didn't know you could teleport into places unseen before," Yennefer stated in a grateful whisper. She hadn't been ready for that confrontation. She only hoped that was no trace of them having been close to the book or that the guards wouldn't notice the candleholder that was missing.
Yennefer removed the candle from her pocket, using the one Ciri had lit to light her own, carrying it across the expanse of the modified basement. Along the walls were rows of box-shaped drawers with numbers on them. She owned one herself, so she knew what it looked like.
She recalled the code from the book, scanning them desperately until eventually, she found the one she was looking for in the middle of the shelf. This time there was no lock, and getting inside was a simple as opening the drawer. They had a lot of confidence in their security.
Inside the drawer was a letter.
She removed it and blew out her candle, returning to Ciri's side to use the light she'd been holding so she could attempt to read it. There was nothing about the book. Just a name and an address.
Maybe it would make more sense once she'd paid a visit to the other banks?
"This is starting to look like one of Geralt's search missions."
"That bad, eh?" Ciri asked, looking over Yennefer's shoulder.
"About to get worse," a male voice rang out from the darkness.
Ciri saw the outline of a guard standing by the bottom of the stairs, the light from the main floor illuminating his silhouette as well as the crossbow he had trained on Yennefer.
"Lads, they're down here!" he called to his comrades in arms, triggering the sound of approaching footsteps above them.
Ciri was in the progress of pulling her sword, but the guard clicked his tongue and shook his head.
"Wouldn't do that, lass, lest you want your mistress dead." He gestured to Yennefer with his crossbow anew, yet kept his gaze on the girl with the sword. "Drop it."
Ciri did, her eyes wide and guileless. All for show, of course. Her insides were vibrating with excitement and the sensation of power rising to the surface of her skin.
"Go home," Yennefer said, barely looking at Ciri. There was nothing either of them could do and if any one of them had the power to talk themselves out of what would happen next – it was Yennefer.
"Don't you ploughin' move!" the guard snarled, swinging his crossbow in Ciri's direction, letting it teeter back in Yennefer's direction as if he expected she'd attack.
"Go now," Yennefer repeated with determination, a demand she expected the girl to argue against but hoped she wouldn't.
"Did you not hear me, Bitch?! I said don't move!"
The noise from upstairs was beginning to increase and the guards he'd summoned were on their way. It wouldn't be long.
Ciri paid Yennefer's commands no heed. In fact, for a moment she forgot about Yennefer altogether.
As Ciri heard footsteps rush down the stairs, she dropped the lit candle, briefly engulfing them all in darkness. Her opposite hand had gone to the dagger in her belt and when the other two guards descended into the cellar with swords and torches, they found said dagger protruding from their colleague's forehead.
Ciri smiled to herself at the look of astonishment on the men's features. Then she was on them, quick as a flash of lightning, her hands clutched to either man's face. She pushed into them all the rage she could part with, all of the fire that burned so brightly inside her, and they cried out as their skin scorched and blistered beneath her touch.
Ciri screamed, too, but for an entirely different reason: pure euphoria.
Swords and torches fell to the floor but the men still fought, swinging their arms around wildly. One would have caught Ciri in the temple had she not been so quick to pirouette out of the way, just as Geralt had taught her back at Kaer Morhen.
A trill of laughter escaped her as the howling men swung for her again, blindly searching for their assailant now their eyelids appeared to have melted shut. It was a game. A game that allowed Ciri to show off her graceful evasion maneuvers.
In the back of her mind, her thoughts went to Yennefer again and Ciri imagined the sorceress to be impressed. Proud. She hoped so.
But the game came to a quick conclusion once the burns spread, first rendering the guards unable to move, and later, live.
Silence ensued.
Yennefer couldn't see much of what was going on once Ciri attacked as the men's torches had gone out, instead, she could hear the commotion, could hear gasps of shock and pain and wasn't aware it was over until Ciri started talking, the distinct smell of burning flesh heavy in the air. What haunted Yennefer most was the sounds of joy amongst the chaos she'd heard coming from Ciri. An outburst similar to the flash of her fight against some of the Wild Hunts men at the bog. The sorceress was riddled with disgust and everything that she'd never felt toward her daughter before, but, more importantly, concern. Something was wrong, something was really wrong.
Ciri eyed the smoking corpses on the floor with mild curiosity, then moved to retrieve her weapons.
"Should we hide them?"
"Yes," Yennefer answered, snatching up one of the torches, using the matches she'd pocketed to light it so she could see the damage. There were guards outside. If they left them in the bank – let them stink up the place – Vimme would know something had happened, and once he realized what was missing from his storage, he would come looking for her first. If he was smart. And he was. She had to think and yet she was having trouble pushing past what she'd heard and could now see.
But eventually, she did. She had to.
"Can you take them out to the ocean?"
"Sure," Ciri replied, slipping her sword back into its scabbard before approaching the two human charcoals.
She paused, looking back over her shoulder at Yennefer. "But perhaps I should take you back to the inn first." She didn't like the thought of leaving Yennefer defenseless and without her magic. No matter how brief.
"No," Yennefer countered, struggling to wrap her head around the carnage and the smell — that smell. "We've to make a couple of changes to the scene. Take them, I'll take care of the things here."
"Alright," Ciri complied, though a little reluctantly. She would have to make the journey at least twice if she was to transport the third guard as well. She only had two hands.
Ciri had blinked away, and for the few minutes she was gone Yennefer could allow herself a second to wonder what she'd witnessed – what had happened…
She'd never been more terrified.
She lit her candle, if only to get a better look at the guard with the crossbow, her eyes fixated on the dagger buried in his skull.
He hadn't had a chance.
She removed it from his head with some force and then pocketed the weapon, returning to the drawers she'd overlooked before, opening them all randomly, taking anything inside to either toss it on the floor or gather it together in her cloak so she could be rid of it later all across Novigrad. She wanted to make it seem as if the fact that the three guards were gone was no more than a coincidence tied to some opportunistic thievery. She'd even gone so far as to remove her own gold stored there.
When Ciri returned a few minutes later, she was sopping wet. She'd disposed of the guards somewhere far off the coast of Novigrad. If they were not picked apart by sirens or drowners, it would be a while before anyone found them.
She squeezed the excess water from her hair. Her powers, though grand, had not spared her from the ocean. As far as Ciri knew, levitating was not one of her talents.
"Yennefer?" she whispered, squinting through the darkness for any sign of the sorceress.
The mage had been in the middle of stacking some stuff into her cloak, along with the letters. The rest decorated the floor.
"I'm here," she responded, her candle having burned down a bit, struggling to shed real light amongst the shadows that came from her movement. "Are you able to make another leap?"
She knew that Ciri could get tired from what she did (like any witch or witcher) but she wasn't aware of the extent of her teleportation powers and how often she could do it before her body decided it was enough.
"If you can—take this," Yennefer instructed, clutching the cloak together as if it were some handy bag, holding it out toward her to take. It was heavy. "And come back for me."
Ciri took the cloak, surprised by its hefty weight. She slung it over her shoulder, groaning softly. "I'll take you as well unless there's a reason to linger?"
She held her free hand out to Yennefer.
There was no cause to linger. Yennefer had set the stage and she was sure that the conclusion would be enough to drive the banker in the projected direction.
"I didn't want to overwhelm you," Yennefer retorted and reached out to take her hand.
"I'll be alright. We're not going far."
An utterance that was proven a moment later when the two arrived in Geralt's room.
Ciri relinquished her hold on Yennefer's makeshift sack and immediately started to peel off her wet clothes.
"Will you light a fire?" she asked the sorceress, teeth chattering from the cold that had set in.
Yennefer said nothing else in response, directing that power that had been silenced at the bank directly at the fireplace. Flames sprang to life with such ferocity that she did a double-take. Yennefer hadn't lost control of her casting since her days of training as a sorceress and even then she'd never allowed it to escape her.
"Sorry," she muttered dimming the flames so that the wood stacked there could take control of the blaze. "Where did you take them? How far out?"
Ciri had blinked and staggered back in surprise at the vicious roar of the fire. She allowed herself a moment to make certain her eyebrows had not been singed off, then continued undressing.
"Far. Where the sirens rule and only the maddest of men will dare travel."
She could travel that far back and forth and not even look remotely tired? Yennefer studied her in the light provided by the fireplace, her gaze shifting to the jewels she'd stolen. They'd have to get rid of it. She could even give it to some random beggar. There were people out there in need. The likelihood that they'd get themselves killed though was great.
The only positive to come from their mission was the fact that they got a letter – a clue – to where the next portion of the book might be.
She'd have to check the following banks herself.
"I wonder how Geralt and Kain are faring on the road back to Novigrad."
Ciri shrugged and settled by the fire to warm up.
Despite the reassurance she had given Kain yesterday she would check on them, now she was reluctant. "I don't know. Do you think I should go there?"
"To check on them?" Yennefer asked, thinking it over. What more could go wrong tonight? She was being negative. "They wanted alone time, might be best we wait until morning for them to arrive."
Yennefer slipped the letter safely under her mattress, collected together the ends of the cloak filled with belongings that Ciri had carried back, and summoned a portal.
"I'll be back in a bit."
She didn't wait on Ciri's response, slipping through the golden door to somewhere safely outside of Novigrad close to the water's edge where she could dispose of the treasures one at a time.
Ciri watched Yennefer disappear, then set her gaze on the roaring fire before her, staring intently at the flames. She was lost in thought for a long time before suddenly getting back on her feet, darting for Yen's bed and slipping her hand under the mattress where she located Amos' letter.
She read it through twice before opening the chest Yennefer kept some of her belongings in, pulling out ink, parchment, and a feathered quill.
The floor was highly uncomfortable as Ciri lay down on her stomach, but she hardly noticed. She was too preoccupied attempting to make her own handwriting seem as similar to the one on Amos' letter as possible.
When she felt she had mastered it – as close as she would get anyway – she began to write on a separate sheet of paper, meticulously copying every word from the letter until they looked close to identical.
Excitement made her heart pound rapidly as Ciri let the ink dry and stepped back into her clothes. They were still damp, but that didn't matter either. Ciri had a mission to complete. And she would have to hurry.
After tidying up and tucking the genuine letter back where she had found it, with the falsified copy secured in her hand, Ciri disappeared.
Yennefer used her magic to pitch each of the items as far into the water as she could. There were jewels, bits of gold (none of her own), and other treasures she didn't care enough about to venture their importance. They all belonged to the sea now and the water had been greedy, absorbing each gift with a splash as they hit the surface and then sunk to the depth below.
She couldn't see how, or where, but she knew it was deep, that most these places were fished and rarely tended to by swimmers. The likelihood that it would be found outright was slim.
She did this for a while, mulling over what had happened at the bank. Before leaving the Temple she had wanted to ride to Novigrad with Ciri for the sake of possibly seeing her kill some necessary monster – to see the effects of what she thought might be controlling her – but what might have happened? Yennefer had never felt more out of place and out of sorts.
She scrubbed her hands against her face, feeling uncharacteristic tears of fear prick at the corners of her eyes, those of which she hadn't experienced since she'd lost Ciri the first time.
Yennefer pressed her hand to the item around her neck, the piece of jewelry that temporarily linked her to Geralt and he'd used to call her to the Bog when they'd first gotten into trouble. She concentrated on contacting him, on using it to sneak into his head.
Would it even work?
'Geralt? Geralt, can you hear me?'
Geralt straightened up, leaning on his shovel, and heaved a weary sigh, looking up at the crescent moon gleaming through the tree canopies.
"What?" Kain asked, continuing to dig. They were in the forest that framed the village; Griffin sat a bit further, busy cleaning his feathers.
"Yennefer," Geralt said. "Wonder how she's doing with Ciri right now."
"Hopefully not setting out on a searching party, since we won't show up for another day."
"Ciri will probably come if they get worried."
"Maybe they have other things to do - Oxenfurt and its recovery."
"Hmm."
Kain dug for another few minutes while Geralt kept standing still, his brow furrowed as he watched the grave deepen.
"Why did they come here?" he muttered to himself.
"Ghouls follow death," Kain said. He stopped, too, and took a deeper breath, flexing his arms holding the shovel's shaft between his knees. "And alghouls prefer a live prey."
"Three in one pack is unusual."
"It is, but stranger things happen. Beasts can behave in funny ways." Kain resumed digging.
"The strange attacks happened after we dealt with the Crones," Geralt mused. "Which was more than a week ago. The cart with that woman and children escaped after the shrine's fall and before the ghouls came. These three survivors sat in the basement for a week at least while the alghouls were working to get to them."
"Lucky they had things to eat in that cellar - they'd be dead otherwise. They're barely alive and sane as it is, thin as twigs."
Geralt didn't respond but turned to look at Kain dig. The latter continued for a few beats, then straightened up staring back at the Witcher.
"The smell," he said. "It should be worse in these warm days. The bodies look fresh."
"Moreover," Geralt added, "they're barely eaten. What took them so long?"
"Hell," Kain winced, stabbing the shovel into the soil and jogging back to the village with Geralt in tow.
Yennefer hadn't expected Geralt to be able to hear her, but she'd tried, for another fifteen minutes until the trembling of her body had disrupted her train of thought and made her stiffen.
She'd begun to cry and she wasn't even sure why.
Was it a matter of fear? Of what could be happening to Ciri? Or because in some strange way she'd once again become the cause of her daughter's destruction?
She screamed, magic spilling from her, carving through the trees and across the water with a gust of wind so strong she was sure it had uprooted one or two and set anything not fastened down sailing. When she calmed she'd found herself being able to breathe again. Her chest was not as tight.
Yennefer swiped at the tears on her cheek, making sure she was composed before recalling her portal, picking up her cloak off of the ground before returning to the inn.
The fireplace was still lit when she appeared in the bedroom—in need of another log—which she'd added with a motion of her hand and the bath abandoned. Fear coursed through her and her eyes scanned the room, almost overshooting the bed, half-expecting Ciri to have fled or disappeared.
Only she was in bed, nicely tucked in, a soft smile on her features as if she hadn't a care in the world.
Had Ciri not realized the damage she'd done tonight?
Yennefer silently walked over to her and sat down on the edge of the mattress beside her, a hand coming to rest on Ciri's back, trying to measure her energy and the magic surrounding her.
It had settled.
She lowered the hand, giving Ciri's hip a gentle pat as if to say 'good girl', and then made her way out of the room to head downstairs in search of a little wine.
Downstairs were Zoltan and Fringilla; the latter looked tired and barely able to hold a fork while the dwarf poured her a cup of mead.
"Ah, Yennefer," he greeted. "Where are ye two these days? Ciri all right?"
"She is. She's sleeping," Yennefer answered, forcing herself to smile slightly. She didn't want to alert Zoltan to her concerns with Fringilla around or without consulting with Geralt first. "As you should be," she continued, steering the conversation the woman's way. "How are things in Oxenfurt?"
"Triss is getting better," Fringilla uttered lazily, nodded a thanks to Zoltan for the mead. "The poet decided to stay while she's there. Margarita went to get her - maybe tomorrow. The repairs almost finished. All the fallen buried."
"That's good news. On both accounts," Yennefer answered, going in search of the wine. She didn't expect the dwarf to serve her even if he didn't appear to have any problem with it. "Will they be riding back? Accompanying Dandelion?"
"Rita will bring Triss by portal," Fringilla responded. "The poet said he'd like to wait for Geralt to ride back with him. Where is Geralt, by the way?"
"Got some business elsewhere," Zoltan put in from behind the bar counter. "Some contract and whatnot."
"While we're still wary of possible attacks," Fringilla added with a sardonic expression and cut off a piece of potato.
"He had to make sure the bastards didn't hide someplace," the dwarf said, shooting a glance at Yennefer.
"Of course," Vigo reacted with the same ironic twitch of her lips, eyeballing Yennefer while chewing. "What happened to you? You look awful, and I don't recall seeing you in Oxenfurt. Or have you been checking woods, as well?"
"I was there until about four days ago. Until I was summoned away by business," Yennefer lied fluidly. "Were we missed?"
"Triss has been ill for three days now, and it's been all on me and Rita, so you do your calculations." Fringilla gave her a brief cold glance and drank.
Yennefer carried her wine over to the table, smiling coolly.
"Were you expecting me to be at her side – holding her hand – nursing my dear friend back to health?"
"I was expecting you to help with repairs in her stead. Just as you demanded from Philippa and Rita so vehemently. Rita was there. You, however, whisked away for five days with your witcher."
Zoltan made a face and stole to the kitchen, leaving the two alone.
"Is that assumption made out of mere perspective or jealousy?" Yennefer asked, sipping at her wine.
Fringilla snorted a laugh. "Please, Yennefer, the only jealous one seems to be you, however peculiar it might appear. The way you look at Triss and I would be rather funny if it wasn't so sad." She granted the raven-haired mage a mock look of sympathy. "Careful, dear, you're losing your touch every now and then with how little control you have over your face that betrays your inner turmoils."
"I advise you watch what keys you choose to turn tonight," Yennefer said, amusement lacking on her features, her lips set in a thin line. She might not have much control over her emotions as of late, but she had even less control of her magic, feeling it boiling, making her eyes flash in a purplish warning.
She'd considered tossing the wine in her face, choosing instead to sip it, to glance in the direction she'd seen Zoltan run off too as soon as Geralt had been drawn into the conversation.
"I'll take the rest of my wine upstairs," Yennefer announced, raising her glass as she began for the stairs. "It's good to hear that Triss is on the mend, give her my best should I not see her myself."
"Unless you run off for another sweet getaway, you shall see her and Rita tomorrow." Fringilla smirked and stabbed another potato with her fork.
Yennefer paid no mind to Fringilla's parting remark as she made her way back into the bedroom. Thankfully Ciri was still there – sound asleep. She set her glass down, stripped her clothes, and then shifted to the other side so she could lay down beside her. Yennefer wasn't tired, not even a little bit, and for a long time, she lay staring at the walls, replaying what she'd heard in the bank over and over until eventually, darkness had sneakily overcome her.
"Still cold inside," Kain concluded, crouched beside the fallen Ealdorman. "So cold and hard that ghouls left most of the innards intact."
"Same here," Geralt confirmed from beside another dead villager. "Barely gnawed on the surface where the frost melted away from the day's sun. They didn't kill these people. Nor did the alghouls. They came after and lingered to get to the three in the cellar."
"The hounds do look similar when they move fast," Kain said, approaching his brother who stood over the corpse he had examined. "People knew no difference."
"Which means the Riders didn't come - merely set the hounds on the village. What for? To pin the crime on Ciri?"
"And avenge the lost informers. The hounds are still around, Geralt. They weren't with the dead Knights."
"We better be quick about it, then," Geralt nodded. "Can't leave them alone for long."
They found a cart in the barn and rolled all the bodies to the forest where Kain deposited them carefully in the grave. They each used their fire, then shoveled the soil over the ashes and bones. They left a huge boulder as a marker and returned to the village. Griffin refused to leave and followed them around like a dog.
They checked on the three survivors: they were asleep, snoring loudly.
"They won't wake up," Geralt estimated, blocking the door from the outside to keep them safe. "Come on."
He picked a Cat potion in his saddlebag, drained it, and winced, holding his hands to his head while the effect kicked in.
They did a thorough sweep of the village and its surrounding area, pinpointing the tracks they had missed when they arrived. They were barely possible to find unless one knew what to look for. The grooves in the soil from the claws, still slightly frosted in their depth, rare patches of cold still clinging to the ground where the hounds released their frosted spikes to impale running people. Geralt cursed himself for not seeing any of it sooner, and Kain's argument on them not knowing what they were looking for did nothing to relieve his conscience. He was a witcher and these people he had failed.
"We might not find them at all," Kain reasoned as they followed the trail into the forest with the excited griffin in tow. "They could've been called back, they could've run off to attack others. They have five days on us."
"We have to try. There were four of them. Every village around is in danger."
"Has been for five days. Whatever could've happened already happened."
Geralt set his jaw and kept following the faded tracks. They were tangled and chaotic and led them in loops and circles; they trudged a few miles around the forest, then headed in the direction of the bog. The sky was twinkling with stars like diamonds spilt over dark velvet, and they didn't notice how it began to lighten. It was still a while before the nights began to get longer.
The witchers would be trudging through the bogs for days to come if not for Griffin. He pricked up his ears, stilling like a bloodhound catching a whiff of a fox, then ran through the marshes, picking his way on grassy knolls lightly as a cat would. The witchers gave chase, less gracefully and cursing on every wrong step. A few drowners and a hag stalled their progress and drained more strength from their aching muscles. When they caught up, they froze next to Griffin, staring.
The hounds were in a clearing, all four of them. They lay on their sides, barely stirring, their heavy breathing huffs had frozen the puddles of water next to their muzzles and rushed out in white smoke clouds.
"What the hell," Geralt muttered, his hand flexing around the sword handle. He didn't recall when he drew it.
"They look dying," Kain stated.
Geralt looked flabbergasted. "What killed them?"
Kain squinted, studying the panting creatures. "Summer," he concluded. "They draw their power from frost. They've been stuck in here for more than five days. The sun and warmth killed them slowly."
Geralt thought it over, then swung his sword, striding for the hounds, and finished the job, hacking off each head with one direct blow.
Griffin croaked softly, tail jerking.
They returned long after dawn, the birds were chirping, the sun was about to rise, and the witchers were about to collapse. Kain and Griffin huddled together at the barn, Geralt picked the company of the horses inside. They had just a couple of hours to rest a little.
Neither could sleep.