The candles had burned down and the sun was streaming in through the window by the time Yennefer's eyes had opened again. She hadn't even realized she'd nodded off. She swept a hand across her eyes, wiping the sleep from them, and stretched, expecting to find the space beside her unattended. Ciri was still there, only her back was to her now and she could no longer see her face.
Strange.
Ciri rarely bothered sleeping in, rising as soon as the sun did so she could partake in her next adventure.
Yennefer eased out from beneath the sheets, gathered together her clothes, and without her usual consideration for a bath, she stepped into them. Another of her bits of routine that had changed almost overnight. Only she made sure to reapply her make-up, to do her hair, and when Ciri was still not awake, to check and make sure she was breathing.
She was.
Last night was pretty exhausting. Could it be she'd worn herself down that much trying to get rid of the bodies and killing them, to begin with?
All possible.
Yennefer left her to wake up on her own and quietly made her way out of the bedroom to check for signs of Geralt or Kain having returned. There was none. Their horses weren't in the stables, either, and Kain's room was still empty.
She closed eyes, reaching out with her magic once more to communicate with Geralt, to try and sense how far from Novigrad he might be. Like the day before, Geralt either hadn't heard her or she hadn't reached him.
With a sigh Yennefer headed inside, intending to help herself to breakfast, grateful that Fringilla wasn't downstairs (or any of the other sorceresses) and that the dining hall was abandoned. At least one portion of it.
"...a dump! The whole damn city is a bloody buggers muddle!"
The door slammed shut behind Zoltan who stopped raging for an instant of seeing Yennefer. As soon as recognition kicked in the next second, he proceeded for the bar counter, angry as a woken ogre.
"Can ye believe it!" he huffed. "They closed the damn market square! Even more, they closin the ploughin city! We're opening and we can't buy shit! Those stupid guards, I tell ye! They know nothin of how to run a city so it doesn't choke itself."
Yennefer turned to regard Zoltan with genuine curiosity as he stormed into the inn behind her, his face red from more than the mead he usually consumed.
"What's wrong with the guards?"
"They closed the city!" he recited, not particularly happy to have to repeat himself. "That fat-pouch Vivaldi been robbed or somethin, and now all Novigrad is rearin up like a damn spooked mare. If Dandelion decides to come back today, he ain't gettin in. Nor is Geralt."
"That's no good—have you caught any wind of who they might suspect it might be? What are the rumours running around?"
"There's plenty rumors but none mean business," he scoffed. "From damn elves to them stupid drowners. Most think it's some rampant mage of magnificent power because no other can beat their ploughin' locks and blocks."
"Unfortunate timing," Yennefer commented, studying the dwarf for a moment, narrowing her eyes to probe at his head, satisfied that he wouldn't have the defence to block her action. "Inconvenient with the Wild Hunt breathing down our necks."
"Aye, that version also sounded from a few," he nodded. "But it's all sodding nonsense for as long as the city gets blocked. No tellin when they find their thieves, but we lose on food supplies. It's a disaster now that we need to open."
Yennefer hadn't had to deal with that much apart from hiding from Radovid. So, she wasn't too sure what she could say. His head also was saying pretty much the same as his mouth. "Maybe it's for the best. This place wasn't exactly packed. Is there anything for breakfast?"
"That's the issue! We got two sodding eggs and a few potatoes!" he exclaimed. "Our supplier Valtis Briggo had to deliver today! And now he ain't gonna enter the city and I ain't-" His scowl loosened somewhat, welcoming an idea. He stared at Yennefer. "Ciri around?"
"She's sleeping," Yennefer said, considering to help him with a portal. She'd have to save the thought. "You'd like her to help you with your supplier?"
"That'd be the thought," he nodded, rubbing his hands, a hint of a smile making its appearance. "The way she blinks from place to place suits perfectly. I'll wait for her to wake, naturally-"
They turned when the door opened letting in three men: two wore armor of the temple guards, another resembled a civilian.
"Carsel!" Zoltan greeted, smiling. "I'd ask what brings ye before the sky darkens but I guess it's the same darn reason the city's closed."
"That is correct," the man nodded, gesturing for the guards to stay as he approached to shake the dwarf's hand. "This case is a total mess."
Zoltan chortled. "Of course Vivaldi makes a mess whenever a bee stings his arse. What happened there really to close the city?"
Carsel threw an uncertain look in Yennefer's direction, then sighed. "I'm not at liberty to discuss it..." His yearning to do so was, however, evident.
"Argh, come on, lad, it's me!" Zoltan slapped a hand to the man's back and coaxed him to the bar counter. "Every soul will have a dozen stories by noon, and I got no one to chat with before the night, anyhow. Ye know it. I'm too busy for this nonsense. Do tell. How bad is it?"
"It's bad, my friend, bad," Carsel confided in a hushed tone. "It's..." He trailed off, then looked guilty. "I'm sorry, let's do business first. I'm ordered to bring two of your tenants to questioning. A routine, nothing to worry about."
"Two of my-" Zoltan scowled. "Who might that be?"
"Lady Yennefer of Vengerberg and her ward." Carsel looked at the mage, bowing his head in a curt greeting. "They've been at Vivaldi's the other day."
Zoltan glanced between the man and the mage. "I see. But what is it for? Obviously they didn't do it."
"It's certainly to be determined." He peered at Yennefer, and couldn't hide a gleam of adoration in his eye. "I'm Carsel Vidus of the secret service. Would you be so kind, Lady Yennefer, as to come with us? It wouldn't take more than an hour. Just a routine, but plenty important for the investigation." He turned to the dwarf, "Fetch the young lady for me, if you please. I wouldn't like to send the guards to your rooms."
"Ah, sure, sure," Zoltan nodded, casting a quick gander at Yennefer as he headed for the stairs. "I shall be a moment."
He stopped at the door and sighed a long one, rubbing his neck.
"Oh hell..." he muttered. "Like there's not enough problems already."
He knocked.
"Ciri? Ye decent?"
Ciri was already awake and half-dressed when she heard the knock on the door.
"Partially," she called out, shaking out her shirt to put it on. "Am I late for breakfast?"
"No... err... There's..." He winced. "Something happened in the city. Vivaldi's bank been robbed or somethin. The secret service wants to ask ye some questions about yer visit yesterday. Yennefer and ye, lassie."
Ciri stilled for a moment, then rushed to put the rest of her clothing on. She opened the door while trying to tame her hair in a braid, eyeing Zoltan with mild curiosity. "Are we in trouble?"
He gave her an uncertain look, his bushy eyebrow rasing. "There a reason to think so?"
"I don't know," she whispered, frowning as she finished with her hair. "I did not even know there was a secret service. Are you certain this is about a bank robbery? They're not... they're not part of the witch hunt, are they?"
"No, no witch hunt as it was - not unless that fat ass Dijkstra forgets his promises, which I wouldn't put past him." Zoltan rubbed his neck again, studying her with both repentance and doubt. "Ye sure there's nothin there with that bank and ye two? If there's somethin, ye better tell me, lassie."
"We visited there yesterday morning. Yennefer had an errand." Ciri shrugged and threw a glance at the stairs. "I suppose that is why they want to see us?"
She squeezed Zoltan's shoulder and headed downstairs, moving to join Yennefer at her side.
"Argh, sod those darn banks and their crap," Zoltan muttered, following the girl down.
"Ah, young lady!" the secret service man beamed. "Carsel Vidus, secret service," he bowed. "Do not worry yourselves, it's a mere routine check with all clients from the day before. We shan't take more than an hour. Would you, please, come with the respectable guards here, ladies? I appreciate the cooperation greatly."
"Are the guards necessary?" Zoltan folded his arms. "Truly, Carsel. It reeks of an arrest."
"Of course not! It's a formal necessity. I apologize for it."
"Worry not, Zoltan," Yennefer interjected with her usual practiced air, moving to reach for Ciri's shoulder, encouraging her to fall in line with the guard so they could ready to leave. "We don't mind going in for questioning, it is after all a logical formality in such endeavors. The longer we argue what it looks like, the more time we waste preventing them from finding the offenders they're looking for."
Ciri said nothing, only offered Carsel Vidus and the guards a gentle smile, then followed them outside.
Carsel bowed, smiling, expressing gratitude for their agreeing, then followed Zoltan to the bar where the dwarf had poured him a shot of almond liquor.
"So, how bad is it?" he asked, pushing the shot over the counter.
Carsel downed it, grunted in pleasure, and told him.
"Ye gods and little fishes..." Zoltan whispered, paling slightly. And poured the man and himself another shot.
Outside and once they'd cleared the designated safety around the inn, it was as if Novigrad had disintegrated into a worrisome disorder. Yennefer had hardly seen the same from the people days after the Wild Hunt had made their demands and so many had been forced to leave.
Were they beginning to come back because of the time it was taking them to return, or did they think life could just go back to normal and that there wasn't a war brewing on the horizon?
Looks of contempt and curiosity met them as they followed behind one of the guards, another picking up the rear to sandwich them between the two men. Neither of the guards had spoken to either woman, stoic and determined to complete the mission. But there were more of them, a lot more of the guards than she'd have thought, ushering people to stay indoors, forcing them to stay confined.
She thought to the letter she had tucked under her mattress. She hadn't gotten rid of it yet. She'd meant to read it properly and then store it somewhere safe – but she hadn't gotten around to it. What if they started searching her room? Would they go that far? No, she couldn't let the thought manifest or her inner turmoil reflect on her face or even an inkling of concern she might have.
"They couldn't have come with horses?" Yennefer asked, casting a look at Ciri to regard her agreement or where her mind space might be.
"Would be harder for them to parade us around," Ciri muttered in reply before raising her voice. "Where are you taking us exactly?"
"To the headquarters," one of the guards said. "Please, be quiet and follow us."
"Since when does walking entail neither of us being allowed to talk? That sounds less like a helpful questioning from one of Vimme's longstanding patrons or the court of law and more like we're under arrest. Is that the case?"
"We're not at liberty to discuss this, m'lady," the guard said. "It's the secret service business. Our job is to accompany you to questioning."
"If that is truly the case, like any other free member of society, you wouldn't be trying to silence our voices in response to a harmless question."
"This is a serious matter," the other one grumbled. "We're following our orders."
They led the women through the closed market square that looked oddly abandoned with all its stands empty. Temple guards and secret service agents were everywhere. A small group stood with Vimme Vivaldi who was explaining something and flailing his arms. He looked ruffled and agitated. He didn't notice the procession as it passed up the road and past his bank.
Ciri didn't speak, but she couldn't help the smallest of smiles. Despite the severity of the situation, she was amused.
If they only knew.
The guards continued to lead them through the city of Novigrad and it eventually became clear they were headed for the Temple Isle. Once more, visions of The Eternal Fire priests and hunters flashed through Ciri's mind and she lost some of the amusement felt earlier.
The whole city seemed to be in an uproar, but unlike when The Hunt had visited, people weren't hiding inside their houses and huts. They were gathered outside in clusters, gossip and theories being exchanged with glee and excitement.
Ciri supposed it had been a long time since Vivaldi's Bank had last been broken into. It was worth talking about.
Yennefer reached for Ciri's hand as if to seek comfort, using their physical connection to project a thought into her head.
'They're going to ask a lot of questions. We need to get our story straight to make sure we're both on the same level of thinking.'
Ciri dared a look at Yennefer when their hands interlocked, shooting her a small reassuring smile before focusing on the path ahead again. She assumed the sorceress was worried Ciri would give something incriminating away. That they might get caught.
But Yennefer needn't worry. Ciri would never let them hurt her.
Ciri hadn't responded to her thought message, aggravating her somewhat until Yennefer remembered the reason for it: Ciri's bracelets.
With everything they were presently dealing with she'd forgotten all about it. As well as canceling out the Wild Hunt, they'd keep her from being able to send such a clear communication, too.
Yennefer released her hand so she could sway in closer, hugging Ciri against her side. She lowered her voice to a whisper, her lips still reflecting a smile.
"After dealing with the bank yesterday, we headed straight to Rosemary and Thyme, spent some time reading on the porch to take our mind off of things, and then went to be spending the remainder of our night in our room. Don't deviate or add anything that's not necessary. Keep answers short. Did anyone else see you at the inn last night besides me? Did you talk to Zoltan? Fringilla?"
Ciri subtly shook her head. There had only been Yennefer.
"Don't worry. They have nothing on us."
"I know we've covered our bases, it's that we have to make sure our stories are cohesive."
"Proceed here, ladies," the guard was pointing to a neat building in the corner of the Electors' Square. A group of guards stood at the entrance chatting.
Ciri nodded in acknowledgment and moved where the guard had gestured, assuming Yennefer would be hot on her heels. She watched the group of guards curiously, flashed a small smile once one of them caught her eye, and proceeded inside.
The headquarters appeared to be the opposite of the streets buzzing with action and angst. The corridors were mainly empty and quiet. Eventually, the women were brought to a waiting room and separated - the sorceress was asked to proceed to another room while Ciri was asked to wait in a comfortable chair.
Yennefer exchanged a look with Ciri as they were split. She was still worried about her because of the day before and the aloofness she'd shown to what she'd done. Ciri's head wasn't in the right place.
When the enchantress entered the room, there were two people waiting for her. One she recognized, the other she didn't much care for. She could only imagine the crowns Vimme had thrown around to achieve this particular council.
Inside she was met by Dijkstra and a man she didn't know. He was middle-aged and quite a contrasting figure to Sigismund: where Sigi was huge and broad, the man looked even gaunter than he was.
"Lady Yennefer of Vengerberg, I presume?" The man smiled, it was a smile that promised nothing cozy.
"That is her," Dijkstra confirmed unnecessarily, standing at the window, his hands behind his back.
"Pleasure to make your acquaintance," the gaunt man sneered at Yennefer, ignoring the spy. "It's been brought to my attention you've been to Vivaldi bank the other day. Could you specify the time of day and the reasons for your visit?"
"The reason for my visit is a personal one of no consequence to any outsiders, unless somehow wanting to see to the state of my accounts had become a crime?" Yennefer asked, unshaken by the man's stature or what could be seen as intimidating airs. "However, with regard to the time, I believe Ciri and I stumbled into the bank around noon. I spoke to Vimme Vivaldi directly, I'm sure he can verify the exact time."
"That he could, of course," the man nodded, the smile never slipping off his thin lips. "But that is not of concern here, for we're talking with you, Lady Yennefer."
He leaned back in his high-back chair, stapling his long fingers before his chest, eyeballing her with avid interest.
"Is the state of your accounts the only thing you were concerned about the day of your visit and - as follows - the only subject of your conversation with Master Vivaldi?"
"No, it wasn't the only thing we spoke of, I had other questions about banking. As I'm sure Master Vivaldi would have shared with you, if of any importance at all," Yennefer stated.
"I would be much obliged if you refrain from telling me what anyone else we don't have in this room would say," the man asked politely, smiling on, ignoring a loud snort coming from Sigi who was observing in ironic silence. "This matter is solely between you and me at this very moment. So I ask you, Lady Yennefer: what questions did you have for Master Vivaldi? Do tell."
"Am I being arrested?" Yennefer countered, ignoring both the snort and the man's attempt to push on a subject she was inclined to share in present company.
"Oh, not at all!" the man said, highly amused by the question. "Unless you attempt to mislead the investigation or refuse to answer our questions. I'm sure you have no such intent, correct? So let us get it over with. I assure you any personal matter you're shy to mention stays in this room and never leaves it. Please, do tell us what you have asked Master Vivaldi?"
Yennefer smiled back, expelling a soft sound of disbelief that echoed Dijkstra's snort. "Then I am within my right to keep my personal business to myself, am I not?" Yennefer challenged coolly, her tight smile still in place. "I'm sure that if it were to be of interest to your investigation, then Master Vivaldi would have told you the cause for my visit and there would be no need for me to repeat it. Am I correct or is it that you're trying to attest his story?"
"It should be of no concern to you what we're trying t-"
"Argh, sod it, Yennefer!" flared Dijkstra. "Just tell the man your business or wear shackles. I never took you for a stupid woman, don't disappoint me. Answer the damn questions."
"Please," added the man, still smiling with serene pleasantry. "You're making it longer than necessary."
Yennefer's gaze averted to Dijkstra at his outburst, her smile dimmed only marginally before returning to the inquisitor. She wasn't afraid of either of them or the idea of being shackled.
"I've already told you the reason for my visit to the bank. I had questions relating to my account and a question of peculiar merit for Master Vivaldi about another banking matter. As I said, I'm sure he can clarify that fact. I make your gracious apology if that isn't sufficient enough answer to do your job and solve Vivaldi's mystery, but it is all I am willing to give for the time until you formally arrest me."
"Then we'll sodding formally arrest you," Dijkstra uttered, scowling like he'd bit into something sour.
The gaunt man kept smiling as if Sigi wasn't there. "The only thing you need to tell us is what other questions besides the account matter you had for the master banker," he explained as if to a particularly dimwitted child. "And upon doing so, you may go. Please, Lady Yennefer, none of us needs any complications for this already difficult matter. We all are going to have a very long day. Let us go through this quick, if you please."
"I already told you the question was of a personal matter, one you could easily source without my assistance as I have nothing to hide from Master Vivaldi," Yennefer argued.
Was what she had to say that important that the entire premise of their search relied on her alone? They clearly suspected her but had no concrete proof. If they did, they wouldn't have walked her here with the possibility of making an escape and they'd have used a lot of force.
They did neither.
"I'm afraid there is not much else I can do for you, lords. However, I do wish you the best with your investigation, I know how tiresome research can be. If there's nothing else—"
Yennefer glanced within the direction of the door.
The gaunt man clucked his tongue, a ghost of lament stroked through his face, briefly coloring his smile sad.
"Unfortunately, it's not that simple due to your resistance, my lady," he said, leaning forward to his desk and reaching for the seal. He pressed it shortly on an ink-soaked sponge and stapled the paper lying before him. He folded it dexterously and cleared his throat.
The door opened, and an agent walked in to take the paper from him.
"Effective immediately," the gaunt man said.
"Yes, m'lord."
The agent removed himself, and the man turned back to Yennefer with the same polite smile. "I'm very sorry for the inconvenience, but I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to linger in our... waiting chambers. They're not very comfortable, but there is nothing more I can do until this matter gets resolved. Unless you change your mind and voice that personal matter you mentioned." He raised his eyebrows expectantly.
"That's all right," Dijkstra interrupted. "She made her choice. Put this on and come with me, Yennefer." He held out a pair of dimeritium shackles to her. "Your hands."
The gaunt man didn't look as remorseful as he was pretending to be and nor was she going to surrender to it. With Dijkstra knowing what Yennefer might have found about the Djinn – came Philippa to worry about, too – and the rest of the Lodge, and, as of this moment, aside from Ciri and her close few, she didn't trust anyone else.
She strode over to Dijkstra and raised her arms to allow him to put the shackles on her.
"I assume Ciri won't be getting the same treatment?"
Sigi gave her a grim look of someone deeply done with the situation. "Let's go," he said, leading her out of the room.
A guard accompanied them to what seemed like a basement dungeon with cells and two guards. Dijkstra let her into one of the cells - the only other occupied one held a sleeping drunk snoring loudly.
"You just have to be a bone in everyone's throat, don't you," he sneered gruesomely, his voice hushed. "That's all right by me. But if I find out it's your shit, nothing saves your perky arse. Not your sodding witcher, nor your freaky brat. Now," he peered at her with his penetrating azure eyes, "tell me why the fuck you wrecked them all? What kind of buggery did you aim to put me in when I barely cleaned out your elven mess in Oxenfurt? You testing my last damn nerve, huh?!"
Despite the look on Dijkstra's face and the fact that he was breathing on her, she scarcely flinched. She'd dealt with more powerful men. "This might not come as a surprise to you, Dijkstra, given what I said in your man's office, but I have no idea what you're trying to accuse me of. I haven't done anything."
"He's not exactly my man," Sigi drawled. "Don't play coy with me, I know your kind too well. Did you find what you were looking for? I won't believe you pulled this whole charade for a couple of ploughing trinkets."
"I love trinkets," Yennefer countered. "Especially the sparkly kind. You think our magic ingredients are paid for out of the skies or through generosity? It's a business. You know that I've been practising for years. Many years. It doesn't mean that I've gone and done whatever you think I have with Vivaldi. The fact that I went to visit him is a coincidence. How many other patrons did he have that day? I wonder are you visiting them with the same amount of bitter distaste in your eyes."
Dijkstra studied her with disbelief and contempt. "What about Giancardi? Checking your accounts, as well? Or sniffing out security settings?"
"Giancardi?" Yennefer repeated, laughing softly as if she was sure she'd hadn't heard him correctly. "What does that have to do with anything? Is this about some outstanding loan payment I didn't make or that I've been to slow with my feeds? You're going to have to clear things up for me. I haven't been to Gors Velen in months."
"Stop playing with me, witch," Sigi hissed. "I meant their bank here in Novigrad, you damn well know it."
"Of all the things I want to do to you at present, Dijkstra, playing is not one of them," Yennefer retorted, the amusement fading from her face. She sensed a cold trickle of dread inside her spine. She made an effort to keep her face in check and met Sigi's stare straight-on despite feeling sick with foreboding. "I haven't done anything. I've hardly even been in Novigrad. And there's a reason for that. If you don't recall, we're still anticipating a battle. What could I possibly gain from dragging attention away from that?"
"Hell if I know!" he boomed. "You were supposed to enlighten me on that. Don't make me involve Phil - we both know you two can't work well together without blowing half the land away. What did you do at Giancardi's bank and why?"
"There's nothing to work on," Yennefer said. "If you decide to involve Philippa, what will come from it, will be exactly what you predict. And for what? Because you're that desperate to blame me or because you're hoping to win points with her? Do you even have cause aside from the fact that I was there to do my banking yesterday?"
Dijkstra looked bored, but his bulging cheeks betrayed he was about to lose his shaky patience. "So you confirm you went to Giancardi's?"
"No," Yennefer countered. He was beginning to confuse her. Why did he keep bringing that one up? What did that mean, exactly? She felt scared to find out, it was a guttural feeling of some inexorable calamity. "Are you trying to say that there were more banks robbed than just Vivaldi's?"
He rolled his eyes. "Have you been drinking some potions heavy on your head or is it the old age that makes you slow? Yes, all four banks were broken into last night. And I didn't tell you they were robbed. Is this a confession, then?"
Yennefer huffed a sigh that was supposed to express utter annoyance but was meant, in fact, to hide her misgiving. "No, it's far from a confession. It doesn't take a genius to figure it out, Dijkstra. I saw Vimme Vivaldi outside of the bank looking like his head was minutes from exploding off his shoulders the way he was talking to someone. And since he isn't dead, it's very easy to see you don't have me here, picking my brains because you believe I murdered him. Let's also not forget you mentioned my greed a couple times. My love of trinkets. Two plus two," Yennefer didn't pause long enough in her point for him to interject. "If it is as you say and four banks were robbed last night, just how do you think I was able to conjure up that many portals in one night, take on that many guards, and not die? Again, what would I gain from that?"
"Take out guards," he repeated, his face sourer than before. "Didn't tell you that, either. Look, if you're up to some stupid monkey business and gallows - be my fucking guest. I'll make an example of you no one will ever forget. But what I really don't need is a war with your sodding witcher and your youth. So much so I'd rather aid you. Just give me a hand here. What the hell did you need from the ploughing banks? And how the fuck did you trick the security?"
"It's an assumption," Yennefer added with an air of weary irritation. "How else would the thieves get the goods out?" He clearly had his mind up that she'd done it. If there weren't shackles biting into her wrists she'd feel complimented he thought her that accomplished, but instead she felt sick with dismay before she could fathom who might have done it.
Maybe it was all a mad coincidence.
"I've told you a million times I haven't done anything. All I did was check on my accounts with Vimme. That was it. I couldn't possibly be in four different places at once."
"Hardly it happened at once, and you've a perfect accomplice in that little Cintran freak of yours. Pray they don't find anything in your chambers, or you're done."
He was about to leave her, then turned.
"Where's your witcher?"
Yennefer's hands balled into fists, smothering the bitterness and need she had to warn him against calling Ciri a freak. Only he'd turned his back on her and was headed out. She let the anger go, knowing that there was little she could do, and pushing him would only serve to further anger Dijkstra.
"Travelling back from the Temple of Melitele. He went to visit Nenneke to make sure she was safe."
Dijkstra scowled. "And that Cat one? They together?"
"They are," she answered, not caring to elaborate. "What about me? Still unconvinced and set to make an example of me?"
"That man you were talking to is the head of secret service," Sigi said. "Had you stated your damn personal matter, you'd walk. But you had to be stubborn and now you'll sit here until they carry out your room's search. You called it on yourself. Sit tight, you'll be visited soon. Depending on their findings, there will be consequences."
Yennefer's insides twisted, the magic wanting to burst free. It had been collared, but it hadn't been silenced to the full extent. She could feel the pain in her fingertips.
"We help you get rid of Radovid and your first plan of action within the administration is to burn another sorceress at the stake before their bodies have even cooled! You're no better than he was."
He towered over her with his nearly seven-feet-tall bulk, his eyes blazing. "You should've thought about it before wreaking havoc in my city! I cannot hide this big a shitpile, Yennefer! You don't even try to help or motivate my aid. I need your damn witcher to sniff around this mess and find the one to get the burn, do you understand? Do you understand how big this is? Banks have security no ordinary mages can breach. It means the criminal should be a big deal - as the crime is. Those guards had families, and we didn't even find bodies aside from a few specks on the floors. People will want this mess to be resolved publicly. And so it has to be. Unless you give me the thief, I shall go with what I have."
"How can you be sure the guards didn't do it? That a fight broke out between them? You think the people of this city are above stealing while they're starving?"
The idea of bringing Geralt into this filled her with as much dread as the idea of them finding out that Ciri had killed those people at Vivaldi's. The Witcher knew nothing of her endeavors to find the book. She wanted to keep it that way until the very last minute.
"What you have is shit all, fucking use your head."
Dijkstra winced as if smelling something foul. "Let us not debate the guards - they're innocent victims of a vicious crime here. Unless you have anything useful to add, I shall see you later. If it's me to see you, that is."
He headed out of the cage, calling the guards to come lock it.
Yennefer, scarcely trusting she wouldn't throw herself at his back, stepped back and turned to face the wall. Her only hope was that Ciri would get out and be able to return to the room to hide the letter more efficiently before the secret service men would be able to do their search.
Before Djikstra pulled Geralt into it.
Ciri was invited in as soon as Yennefer was led away, and the gaunt man stood up greeting her.
"Please, sit, young lady," he smiled charmingly, gesturing for the chair the sorceress had occupied. "We shall do this quick, for as long as you're honest."
Ciri obeyed, casting a quick look around the room. "And Yennefer? Where is she?"
"Oh, she's fine, do not worry, young lady," the man smiled wider, the poster for friendliness. "How shall I call you?"
"My name is Ciri," she said, trying to read that shark-like smile. "And who might you be?"
"I'm secret service, Lady Ciri," he said, inviting her to proceed to the chair with another gesture. "Name's Ebert. Would you please enlighten me on your connection to Lady Yennefer?"
Ciri sat but didn't relax. "Yennefer used to be my tutor when I was a child. We became close. I see her as my mother."
Had Yennefer not explained any of this already?
"I see," he beamed, settling in his chair. "Lovely. Given the nature of her talents, shall I presume you have the same skills upon the said tutoring?"
"I showed some signs of having magical abilities as a child, which is why I was sent to train with Yennefer. But I was unable to complete my education. So I am not a sorceress if that is what you ask."
"I see," he nodded, dimming his smile into something sympathetic. "Have you stayed with her for all the years despite that fact? Or have you parted ways for some periods of time?"
"We got separated years and years ago. We only just reunited a few months ago."
Ciri fell silent for a few seconds, then attempted a cautious smile.
"I was told I was to answer some questions about the bank?"
"Certainly, we'll come to those. But before that, would you be so kind as to clear out a few things for me. In those years of separation, what was your occupancy?"
"None," Ciri answered simply. "After I got separated from Yennefer, I fell into captivity with slave traders. I managed to escape but for a long time - many years - I was forced to run. Hide. This world is not a kind place to a young girl, sir, as I am sure you can imagine."
"Oh, unfortunately, I can imagine plenty on this topic," he gave her a mournful face. "But neither of us would like me to, thus I'll refrain." A smile bloomed over his mouth like a sun peeking from behind a cloud. "I have to ask one thing, however uncomfortable. Have you by any chance participated in any hanza during those unkind years? Um, a band, a gang, anything like that?"
"Ran into several such groups in my time, but no, I was never part of one myself," Ciri lied. She was surprised by how easily the deceit fell from her lips. As though it was the truth. "Why? Do you suspect a hanza robbed Vivaldi's bank?" She tilted her head to the side, emerald eyes wide and guileless.
"There's a lot of suspicions running wild in every investigation, but it's beside the point."
He eyed her with a deceptively warm gaze that swept off her face to her chest. For a split second, no more, but he had what he wanted.
"Have you had any other tuition before Lady Yennefer's? Or after, perhaps?"
"In magic?" Ciri paused. "Triss Merigold attempted to teach me for a bit, but it was decided Yennefer was a better match." She met his gaze head-on, suddenly suspicious. "Are you the leader of the witch hunts?"
He laughed. "Of course not! Nothing of the sort. But what about other kinds of education? Besides the magic?"
"I spent some time with a hermit learning how to tan hides," Ciri admitted. "He was a kind, old man. Nursed me back to health after he found me wounded in the forest."
A slight frown one would take for concern creased his brow. "Who wounded you?"
"A man among a group of thugs. They had taken me captive. Wanted to... planned to do horrible things to me. But I managed to escape with the help of another girl." Ciri touched her fingertips to the scar below her eye. "Not unscathed, obviously."
"Sorry to hear you've been through such trials," he composed a sorrowful mien, his eyes studying her closely. "Is this medallion of yours a mere trinket, then?"
Ciri looked to her chest with a small smile, letting her fingers gently toy with the medallion. "Do you like it?" she asked, eyes alight with warmth. "I know a witcher, you see. The best witcher this world has ever seen. These medallions are special. They alert those who wear them to the presence of monsters. It can be quite useful when traveling."
"Fascinating," he beamed. "Are you a witcher?"
"I wish," Ciri said. "No. He tried to teach me a thing or two, but like with my magical training, it did not work out. Women aren't suited for the profession, apparently."
"Maybe not in the Wolf School," he mused, smiling subtly. "How does it work with you when it only works with a designated witcher? Nor do they give them out like souvenirs. They're relics."
Ciri shrugged gently. "I do not know how it works. I suppose one would have to ask a witcher about that.
"But it was won after a duel with a man who made sport of murdering witchers and taking their medallions as trophies. Geralt kept one as well."
"I see. What relationship are you in with Geralt of Rivia?"
"I was his ward for a while when I was younger. I consider him family."
"Do you share his talents and fighting skills, by chance?"
Ciri looked confused. "His talents?"
"Fighting skills and sensitivity to magic?"
"Comparing my skills to Geralt's would be akin to comparing a newborn foal still learning to stand and a full-grown experienced racehorse," Ciri replied softly. "Like I said, he tried to teach me a few tricks before he realized I had an affinity for magic. Then he sent me to Yennefer."
She paused again, sliding to the edge of her seat.
"Apologies, sir, but I don't understand what this has to do with the robbery?" She frowned. "Were we brought here under false pretenses?"
Ciri honestly could not tell anymore.
"I never mentioned it was a robbery," he remarked, watching her cunningly. His eyes flicked around her figure once again, he tipped his head, smiling. "What a lovely bracelet. Beautiful work, quite unique, I'd say. A custom order, no doubt. May I?" He held out a hand adorned with a stoneless ring.
Ciri didn't indulge him in his request. She did not want him touching her. Something about his smile...It was as cold and empty as Bonhart's eyes had been.
She chose instead to address his earlier statement. "The man who fetched us said you wanted to question everyone who had visited the bank on the day of the robbery."
"It wasn't a robbery," he said, smiling, his hand lowering to the desk. "Why do you wear dimeritium when your so-called mother is a sorceress? It's rather peculiar. As if you're protecting yourself from her."
"Not from her. Myself. People with magic and little training can have accidents. This just suppresses mine, is all."
"So you do have magic," he smiled. "How strong is it?"
"How does one measure such a thing?" Ciri tilted her head to the side again, uncertain. "Why am I here?"
"Because a crime has been committed in a place you've been. Are you familiar with another witcher so often seen with Geralt of Rivia? He goes by the name of Gwyncath of Lyria, or White Cat."
"I am," she admitted when he asked about Kain.
"How close?" he squinted like a cunning fox.
"Familiar? We first met a few months ago. I suppose we are friends."
"Interesting." He smiled. "Have you trained with the same tutors, learned the same magic, anything of sorts?"
Ciri shook her head. "No."
She felt uneasy now. And it had nothing to do with the bank. Or the possibility she might be arrested.
Ebert was asking all the wrong questions. He was showing too much interest in her.
"Why am I here?" she repeated, as calmly as she was able. "I would appreciate the truth this time."
"Oh but, young lady, I haven't deceived you!" He spread his arms momentarily, smiling like friendliness personified. "It might appear strange to a civilian like yourself, but every fact we are gathering is important for a successful investigation. Would you be so kind as to tell us one more thing: where are the two witchers at the moment?"
"They had a contract in Velen. If everything has gone well, they should be on their way back by now."
She tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear. "So, you have asked everyone who has come here today such detailed and personal questions? It is procedure? I have never been interrogated before."
Not by government officials.
"Yes, that is the procedure," he nodded, smiling. His eyes darted to the door as it opened letting Dijkstra in. "Very well, young lady. We are finished here for now. Thank you for your cooperation." He gave her a short bow of his head, his smile never faltering.
"I shall see you out, Ciri," Sigi said. "Come."
Ciri stood immediately, eyeing the newcomer with mild skepticism. Dijkstra.
She didn't hesitate in following him outside into the hallway.
"Where is Yennefer?"
The Regent of Redania didn't respond until they reached another room he practically ushered her in. He turned to her, towering, his face pinched in pained annoyance. "Your damn Yennefer should've known better. She refused to answer and now she has to wait for her quarters to be searched. They've finished by now, we'll know soon enough." He observed her with a mixture of disdain and curiosity. "Your family of freaks is a pain in my arse, Cirilla, and when I got pain in my arse, I deal with the splinter causing it. I don't know what horseshit you've been up to, but this shit stunk up the whole city, do you understand? I can no longer brush it under any rug - no rugs that big. I need someone for the crowd to see. If it's your witch, I won't protect her unless you tell me the hell it's all about."
Ciri tried to ignore the freaks remark, though secretly ached to punch the giant man's nose in.
The topic of Yennefer was more important. "Refused to answer what?"
"What the hell she wanted from Vivaldi, of course!" he all but yelled. "What was in the fucking letter she was denied? What was so important she made such a mess not even your sodding Hunt managed?"
"What letter?" she asked, her brow furrowed.
He made a face as if she began to reek. He thought for a long moment, worked hard on ruling himself down before he spoke again. "As soon as the Witcher gets back, send him to me. He's the only one who can save her hide. Understand me? Now go and don't think of leaving the city. I need no more problems with your clan of troublemakers."
Not the only one, Ciri thought. She didn't voice this aloud.
"Troublemakers? I resent that statement," she mused, then promptly left, all innocence evaporating from her face as she stepped out of the headquarters and onto the streets.
"Ciri!" Zoltan slipped off the chair, leaving his nearly emptied cup of mead on the table as he rushed to the girl. "What the hell happened there? What did you two do?"
"They are detaining Yennefer," Ciri said, releasing a sigh. "I don't quite understand what is going on either. They separated us from the very beginning. Questioned Yennefer first and then me. But none of the questions had anything to do with this bank-thing they are all worried about."
"What did they ask about?" he frowned.
"Me. My life, my relationships, my education." Ciri folded her arms across the chest. "What do you know of this Ebert person?"
"Ebert?" He poured a cup of mead behind the counter and offered it to her. "Ye mean Ebert Graf? The new head of the secret service, after Geralt snuffed that arsehole Menge. They say he's tough. Why? Ye seen him?"
"Yes. He was the inquisitor." Ciri sat at the counter, cradling her mead. "He smiles all the time but he's not happy. It's like a wolf showing its teeth."
She took a sip, her brow furrowed.
"Do you think they will hurt Yennefer?"
"Ye gods and little fishes," Zoltan rubbed his neck, eyeballing the girl with mixed feelings. "Lassie, between ye and me, did she pull ye into some of her shady magic business?"
"Of course not!" Ciri said vehemently. "Why is everyone so quick to suspect Yennefer? It is not as though she is some sort of infamous bank robber!"
"Their banks are so protected it's nothing less than a band of powerful mages or elves - I heard both." Zoltan snorted. "They're ready to drop all shit on elves now because there's nothin better to pin it on."
He drank, shaking his head.
"Worst thing the city's closed. And today we open. It's provisioning day - my food and wine importers won't be let in! It's a catastrophe, Ciri. We got nothin left, even for us."
"We'll live," Ciri said. "I've gone days without food before. We can manage."
She took a sip of her mead. "Djikstra told me to get him Geralt. He said only Geralt can get Yennefer out."
"Geralt comes any hour," Zoltan waved a hand. "But we can't go without provision, this is serious. Only ye can help me. Will ye, lassie? Once we settle this, we'll get yer witch out. Good wine and good food is a key to many politicians' bellies."
"Of course I will help you." Ciri stood. "Though I do not like leaving Yennefer with those men by herself."
"She's Yennefer of Vengerberg!" Zoltan cried. "She'll be fine in no time. Dijkstra ain't that stupid, he knows Geralt will be on his arse with all them teeth if he does anythin." He sucked in a deep breath, focusing. "Look, our food supplier Briggo will be outside the gate now. Ye take us outside to the forest - we can't be seen. I'll get him, then ye get us with them boxes back here, all right?"
"Not a problem," Ciri smiled, holding her hand out to the dwarf and wriggling her fingers playfully. "Prepare yourself."
He frowned looking at her hand with sudden wariness, "For what?" And took it reluctantly.