"Well…" Yennefer sighed, addressing the pacing Ciri. "He's stable for now at least." She pulled the wooden door to one of the many guest bedrooms' closed softly behind her. It latched with a soft click. A troubled expression played on Yennefer's face. Geralt's injuries weren't healing as fast as they should, especially considering the witcher's healing potion she could still smell on his breath.

He had been lucky, or unlucky as seemed more evident at the moment. Amid the mangled mess of his shoulder Yennefer had detected traces of some sort of magic or unrecognizable elixir. Regardless of what the substance was, it had slowed Geralt's heart, granting him the precious time needed for Ciri to bring him to safety before he completely bled out.

The wound on his hand would heal. Geralt was fortunate to have not hit anything vital, but there remained worrisome black marks that followed the lines of his veins up to his elbow. These were what currently plagued Yennefer's thoughts. For the moment the markings didn't appear to be spreading and the sleeping spell she cast over the witcher would ensure this while she was away tending to other matters. At least until his annoyingly magic-resistant constitution worked through the spell. Regardless, it wasn't a matter that she was willing to bring up with Ciri, at least until she was more sure of what was going on. Ciri had enough to worry about as it was, and Yennefer would hate to add something that could end up being trivial to that list. Her first priority would be to consult someone from the Lodge of Sorceresses on the recent turn of events.

"Yennefer…" Ciri's voice called the sorceress from her thoughts. Her vivid green eyes searched Yennefer's face for reassurance but found none.

"He'll be alright. Geralt's recovered from worse scrapes." Yennefer forced with a smile.

Ciri remained unconvinced. She looked past Yennefer, past the closed door, seeing only Geralt and the broken state she had found him in.

"Ciri." She stroked Ciri's cheek tenderly, "He will make it through this." Yennefer found herself somehow speaking with a conviction that even surprised herself, and it took a few seconds before she could say anything more. "There's a few things I need to look over, and I'm sure there are more important things that you should be occupying your time with." From the puppy-eyed expression on Ciri's face it was apparent that Ciri was sure there couldn't be anything more worthy demanding her attention. Yennefer's face softened. Before being an empress, the young woman was still Ciri, and Ciri couldn't sit idly by. "I was going to set up a portal later to retrieve his things and possibly investigate what caused him to get like this in the first place, but if you…"

Ciri's face lit up. "I'll do it. I can't just sit here. Please let me do it Yennefer. Please."

"As advisor to the Empress, first and foremost I would…" Traces of a genuine smile touched the corner of Yennefer's lips, as once more Ciri pleaded with puppy eyes. "… have no clue as to her current whereabouts."

For the first time in a long while, a smile crept to Ciri's face. She hugged the sorceress, whispering thanks in Yennefer's ear before vanishing once more in a blue light.

Yennefer was suddenly alone. With quick steps, she turned on her heel and retreated back to her tower where she could hopefully get some answers.

XxxxX

It was Keira Metz whom Yennefer finally contacted via her recalibrated megascope.

The blue image of the blond sorceress flickered into focus between the three metal stands supporting fine crystals and glass lenses in bronze plates. "Yennefer, to what do I owe this surprise?" The younger sorceress purred. From her appearance, Yennefer surmised that Keira had been doing much better for herself than when they had last met that fateful day at Kaer Morhen. Her outfit for one, had been upgraded from dire rags to something more fetching, though the garment was cut far too low for Yennefer's taste – the neckline reaching nearly to Keira's navel.

"I require your insight with a particular matter."

Keira tapped the side of her head, a playful look in her dark eyes. "This wouldn't have anything to do with your witcher, would it?"

"How…" A flush rose to Yennefer's otherwise unperturbed face.

Keira chuckled. "I am hardly your first choice. If it didn't involve Geralt, Triss would have been the first person you turned to for a consult."

Less than amused, Yennefer continued. "Yes… well… regardless, I still require your help." She waved her hand. The image of the markings she saw on Geralt's arm flickered to life between them.

Keira's brow furrowed, but before she could reply there was a loud thump behind her. "Keira, you in here?" Yennefer recognized the metallic voice of the reckless young witcher. The sound of footsteps neared.

"I'm predisposed at the moment." Keira answered back, not taking her eyes off of the picture before her.

"Nonsense. Tell them to call back." Lambert's face came into view as he grabbed the woman from behind. His leather wrapped hands eagerly groped up her body as he leaned in to nuzzle Keira's neck. His short-kept beard tickled her soft skin as his chapped lips traced up her throat. Keira nearly let out a soft moan.

"One does not simply tell Lady Yennefer of Vengerberg to call back just because you have a sudden urge." Keira said with a coy smile on her face, managing just barely to keep her own dignity intact.

Lambert's eager hands lurched to a halt at the mention of Yennefer's name. His hands retreated from under Keira's blouse and rested awkwardly at his side. "… could have warned me ahead of time." He mumbled. Lambert may not like the raven-haired sorceress, but he did hold an amount of respect for her. Lambert stepped back and the dark-leather-clad witcher disappeared from view.

Keira returned her full attention to the projected image. "Do you know what caused it?"

"If I had that information I wouldn't be asking for help."

Time passed as Keira analyzed the image before her. Lambert fading in and out of view, was obviously pacing in the background. Despite his naturally light step, Yennefer couldn't help noticing the rhythmic tapping of his boots against the wood flooring.

More than once Keira asked to see other views and even the wound on Geralt's hand. Each time Yennefer obliged. "I agree that you have every right to be concerned, but without knowing the source I can't help you." Keira finally said.

"I was afraid of as much…" Yennefer supported the side of her head with delicate fingers. Her arm supported on her waist clad in black velvet.

Tired of the sorceresses' ponderings, Lambert finally looked away from the floor and froze instantly. "Who's arm is that?" His attention focused solely on the image. A look of fear and concern affixed to his rough but handsome features. Both Keira and Yennefer turned to him, neither one breaking the fallen silence. "Who's arm is that!?" Lambert barked with a sharpness only a witcher's voice could manage.

"Geralt's." Breathed Keira.

"Shit." Lambert resumed his pacing, his idle hands now making quick strokes through his short auburn hair. His next words made Yennefer's heart lurch to a stop. "I haven't seen anything like that since the Trails of the Grasses…"