The first rays of sunshine reflected onto her face from the glass window at the side of the bed, causing her to wake with dawn first light. Her hand shielded her eyes as she grunted displeased and turned to the other side of the bed despite knowing she would find no one there. She left the door unlocked on purpose, hoping that Geralt would find his way up once the festivities ended, but judging from her night of bad dreams, he had not and she was hoping he didn't fall asleep under a table.
She got out of bed and changed into more appropriate attire before going downstairs to retrieve her most likely passed out witcher.
The building was quiet as she descended the creaking stairs. After the infernal noise she had slept through, she expected to see an image of sheer devastation in the tavern below. Instead, she was greeted by an utterly empty room aside from Selise, who was sweeping the floor.
"Morning, ma'am," she lifted her head and greeted her, looking both tired and bored.
"Morning. Where is everyone?"
"Master Zoltan went to fetch some more vodka and wine to restock after last night and Master Dandelion is at the Vilmerius Hospital, like every morning since the attack on Lady Priscilla."
"I didn't know he had someone in the hospital." She looked around the room again for any sign of Geralt. "What about everyone else? I mean Geralt."
"The witcher? He and that tall lass left sometime during the night. Snuck out without us noticing, Master Dandelion was beside himself when he found out. Kept going on and on about how ungrateful some people are, ruined his mood to sing and thank the gods that sent most of the other patrons home as well. Made life a little easier for me and the rest of the staff."
"He left?" she asked in a small voice.
"Mhm, he left without a word of gratitude to anyone."
Criss chased away the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach and went outside to check on the horses. As expected, Roach was gone, along with one of the mares they took from the bandits the previous day. Perhaps they had some errand to run and they would return soon. Surely, they wouldn't have left for good. Not without leaving word with their friends. So, with that reassuring thought in mind, she sat at one of the long, empty tables and waited patiently for a familiar face to appear in the doorway. Any familiar face.
Not having a watch on her wrist or a phone in her pocket made it hard for her to know for sure how long had passed. Her only measurements of time were the slow changes in shadow length and her own stomach's hunger pangs. She hadn't eaten a thing since before they set out and she now felt she could devour whatever food was set in front of her. Sadly, the cook wasn't in yet and once Selise finished her work, she was left alone.
To keep her mind off her hunger, she did what she always did when left with no occupation for too long: she sunk deep into her thoughts and turned practical. A list of priorities formed in her mind, or possible priorities, since things might change drastically once Geralt returned.
First of all, she needed to find a bank or a jeweller to exchange some of the precious stones stowed away in her bag. She needed common currency, and then she had to find a tailor. The small travelling bag had only allowed her to pack a few shirts, a spare pair of trousers, and some small clothes. It was needless to take more since she would need to replace them with other items that blended better into the scenery. The only things she didn't need to worry about were her undergarments since no one but Geralt would see them. She smiled, thinking of the face he made each time he saw her wear those particular pieces. They were well worth the space they occupied, just like the small bottle of perfume she tucked into a pocket of the bag.
She also needed to see to the horse Geralt wrangled for her. It needed to be fed and groomed properly, not to mention its tack looked a little too worn out. Perhaps she would get some saddlebags while she was at it. Who knew when they would need to ride out to some other city or village. It was better to be prepared for anything.
Her eyes moved over the tavern again and her thoughts drifted to the rooms above. They all stood to be improved upon and if she ended up staying here for longer, she wanted to make an offer to Dandelion to help him properly refurbish the old building. Perhaps she could find a way to get running water to them. They already had the building connected to the sewer system and had an indoor privy, but it wouldn't hurt if they also had an easier means of bathing rather than having to carry buckets upon buckets of water up the stairs.
The door flung open, dragging her out of her thoughts. She looked up, hoping to see Geralt, but instead, it was Zoltan, carrying two demijohns.
"Morning!" he hollered from across the room and walked up to her. "Trust we didn't keep you up too late last night."
Not being in the mood to shout, she waited for him to approach before answering.
"No, I was tired and I'm not even sure when I fell asleep. Selise told me Geralt left with Ciri. Any idea when they'll be back?"
The dwarf looked uncomfortable, and his eyes darted across the room to the main entrance. He cleared his throat and began coughing profusely.
"Um, my apologies. I need to get some air and carry liquor and wine to the basement. We can talk more when I'm done. Maybe Dandelion will return by then..." he muttered the last part.
"Let me help you unload your wares." She stood up, eager to make herself useful and keep busy. "We can talk while we work."
"Oh, no, that's no job for a lass! You wait right here while I..."
"Nonsense! If I continue to sit on this bench, either my ass will take its shape or leave an imprint of it behind. I like neither option, so I shall accompany you."
"Dandelion was right. You are a stubborn one." He headed towards the door with her in tow.
"I just don't like being idle." She matched the length of his steps and walked alongside him. "Now, tell me what happened last night."
"There's nothing to tell..."
"Nothing?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Er, maybe it'll be better if you just waited fer Dandelion to talk to. He's better at this than I am."
"Why do I get the impression you're dancing around something?"
He grabbed another two demijohns of wine from the cart that lay waiting for him in front of the entrance. She followed suit and took the next two out of the cart and carried them inside.
"Put those down! If Geralt catches wind of this, he'll have my hide!"
"Don't worry, I won't say a word to him. Now please tell me what happened last night."
Zoltan scratched his head, looking around for anything to get him to divert the conversation to another topic. But one glance at her resolute face was enough to make him sigh, resigned. He spoke while unloading the cart bottle by bottle.
"Fine. We were having a gran' ol' time after you left, no offence. Geralt and Ciri made up and hugged once a few mugs of ale had been drunk. Dandelion was singin' his little heart out while Geralt rolled his eyes. You know how he is. He hates having someone sing his praise and more than that, he hates being the centre of attention. Either way, he had to begrudgingly accept the cheers from the crowd as they acclaimed him as the true protector of the city, and slayer of the Sermon Killer. And mind you, it's praise well deserved, had it not been for him, that blood-sucking mad killer would still be runnin' around guttin' people and leavin' them to rot in the streets..."
"Zoltan," she said, warning him to stay on topic.
"Fine, fine! There's no pullin' the wool over yer eyes, I see. As I said, we were drinking and making merry, Ciri and I danced a spirited jig. I tell you, that lass is quick on her feet!" She threw him a glance to warn him not to go off on a tangent again. "Anyway, ale and vodka were flowing aplenty, we were all getting tipsy, Geralt included. All I remember is seeing him and Ciri exchange some hushed words and slaps on the back. I thought nothing of it, imagined they were drunkenly making amends. Dandelion started singin' that one song that always makes me hop about and I forgot all about them. Came back to the table and they were gone. At first, I thought they must be answering the call of nature after so much ale. You know it travels fast... Ahem... Anyway, eventually, when I saw they weren't coming back, I noticed Geralt's bag was gone and when I went outside, the horses were gone as well... That's all I know."
"So he really told none of you where he was going?"
"Not a word. But you shouldn't feel too bad. You're not the first he has done this to. Left Yennefer without a word, with only some flowers by the bed and that was that. Triss complained he did the same, only he left her in charge of a little boy to boot, no flowers for her. Well, I guess no flowers for you either."
The ground under her feet felt soft for a moment as his words sank in. Could he be right? she wondered for a moment, but she shook her head in disbelief. No, the Geralt she knew would never do something that cowardly.
"I see. So you think he ran from me? And Dandelion shares your opinion?"
Zoltan looked sheepishly at her and scratched his nape.
"Mhm, you needn't say more. I can read it plain enough on your face. Given the circumstances, I'd appreciate it if you could point me toward the nearest bank or jeweller, whichever has a better chance of offering a fair price for some precious stones."
"Err, I'd say Vimme would be the best choice, meaning the Vivaldi bank in Hierarch Square. Turn right then cross the bridge, take the second left, keep going straight ahead, at the next fork in the road take left again and you'll get there. Bank's the big building on the other side of the square, marked with giant golden signs."
"Thank you, Zoltan, both for your honesty and the information about the bank." With that, she twisted on her heels and went to collect a few of the stones from her bag before setting out to exchange them for crowns.
The walk to Hierarch Square was short, at least to her mind. She was too busy thinking of what she had to do next now that Geralt was away for an undetermined period of time. She stubbornly refused to believe that he had simply left, there just had to be another explanation. And while she waited for that explanation to reveal itself, the best way she could spend her time was to try to make some headway regarding Ciri's purpose. Beyond her fight with Eredin and the Hunt, Ciri was born to this world for a reason and Criss doubted any of the others had uncovered even half of it. But even for her to learn more, she'd likely need to take some trips to Idris. Although, going through the local lore first was worth a shot. For all she knew, there could be some ancient wisdom hidden amidst myths.
By the foul smell of rotting flesh and thick smoke, she knew she had arrived at her destination. The remains of previous offenders hadn't been cleared out, and it was no wonder. All executions were habitually performed in front of an audience for better effect. It was the same everywhere no matter the world and no matter the reason, sometimes it was about witches, sometimes it was about simple treason or other crimes. All leaders wished for their wrath to feel palpable and act as a deterrent to future misbehaviour.
She walked by merchant stalls straight across the square where the large, round golden signs announcing the Vivaldi bank were hung in full view. The stench got worse the closer she got. The pyres were being prepared for the next magical wrongdoers and a menacing-looking witch hunter warned onlookers that all folk caught harbouring a mage would burn next to them. A shiver ran down her spine. There had been far too many dead and their fear had already been imprinted into the paving stones. She could feel the death and agony of the ones who had perished there.
Foolish men, sealing their fates through hate, she thought. Blood only draws more blood and plenty had been spilt here. She shook her head. As much as this injustice troubled her, all of this was none of her business. She was not there to topple governments. For the moment, she had to take care to ensure her livelihood and keep her head down.
On the steps of the bank, a richly robed dwarf with a respectable grey beard hanging over his chest was arguing with a merchant over the unpaid instalments the man had. She waited some distance away, trying to give their transaction some privacy, but it was hard not to overhear the conversation when they raised their voices at each other.
"I beg you, Master Vivaldi, offer me succour this time and my business is sure to recover in a matter of weeks..."
"Succour? You want even more money when you have yet to pay what you owe me from last time? The nerve! I shall not lend you a single crown without some guarantee that I shall be repaid and I accept nothing less than a proper deed, not some paper slip you wrote on the spot!"
The merchant grunted displeased and walked off cursing under his breath. She moved out of his way and advanced towards the dwarf with a friendly smile.
"Good day, Master Vivaldi." She bowed her head respectfully. "My name is Christine Thompson and I am in need of your services," she said, trying to mimic the speech patterns she heard from the locals.
"Mhm, good day." The dwarf echoed her bow, but took it down a notch and eyed her curiously. "You're not from around here," he noticed.
"You have a keen eye, sir. Indeed, I've just arrived in the city from Vizima and find myself without coin, thus requiring your services."
"I don't lend money to newcomers I don't know. If that's the service you require, then off you go." His head bobbed, showing the way out of his shop.
"Then it's fortunate that's not what I need. Only a simple exchange of gems for coins will suffice." She pulled out the pouch from within her tunic and jingled the contents. The dwarf still looked at her with weary eyes. "It was Master Zoltan from the Chameleon who recommended your services above anyone else's in the city, but if you're not interested in my business, I can always search for another."
Vimme's eyes brightened at the sound of Zoltan's name. "Why didn't you say so from the start? Please step into my shop so I can inspect the quality stones."
The room he led her to was on the small side, just a functional front office for dealing with customers. She sat down on one of the two chairs provided and removed two sapphires, an emerald and a ruby from the pouch, all of medium size. Vimme took the stones and weighed them on a small balance scale, then inspected the clarity of the stones and the shape of the cut.
"I can give you a hundred crowns for each of these and one fifty for the ruby."
Her eyes darted across the dwarf's face to check if his offer was a real one or one that demanded a haggle to reach a fair price. Fortunately, it was the former, so she quickly accepted. She took the coin purse she was offered in exchange for the stones and made to hang it on her belt.
"You're not really from Vizima, are you?"
"What gave it away?" she asked, smiling.
"No one south of Novigrad would ever think to wear their purse so... ostentatiously. As a matter of fact, none north of Novigrad would either. It's practically an open invitation to thieves."
"Unfortunately, I have no other means to carry it. I shall hang it on my belt and cover it with my cloak. It's a short walk to the Chameleon, and there are plenty of guards in the streets. I doubt even the thieves of Novigrad are bold enough to attack in plain sight."
"I wouldn't put too much stock in the guards if I were you and if complete discretion wasn't a requirement for this job, I'd perhaps ask where you're really from. But it is, so I can't. I can, however, offer a piece of advice... smile less. A smiling face is a rare sight in this city and it will make you more memorable than you care to be given your profession."
"My profession?"
"You're a mage, are you not?" Her eyebrows shot up. How could someone who she had barely met already guess that about her?
"No," she took on an upset look. "Whatever gave you that idea?"
"The way you carry yourself, not a care in the world, the fact that you wear makeup and let your hair down, the fact that you had in your possession flawless precious gems and, finally, the fact that you come from the Chameleon. Had it been only one thing, I might have missed it, but you are too much like a sorceress to not be one."
"This is the third time someone has accused me of that since I've been in the city, and mind you, I've only arrived yesterday, so that's saying something. At least now I know what gave off that impression. Since I don't wish to be burned at the stake, I shall take into consideration your suggestion. Permit me one last smile before setting off in complete gloom." She did exactly as she said, then got up and bowed her head. "It was a pleasure, Master Vivaldi. I hope to do business with you again soon. Until then," she paused to think of an appropriate well-wish but found herself woefully uninspired, "may your profits multiply like rabbits in the spring."
He nodded in response and she left the bank… not smiling. It felt unnatural to her, but whatever gaze fell upon her moved on quicker now that she did not encourage it with her cheerful demeanour. "Such a gloomy world," she thought.