Zoltan waved her over as soon as she entered the tavern. He had received the papers that offered passage into the city, and now she was free to leave and return whenever she wanted.
"This one's the real deal. Checked it myself. Should have no problems getting in or out with this one," he assured her, tapping it against the table.
She lifted the paper into the light and studied it. It had no trademark signs to prove its authenticity, nothing but plain paper with a wax sigil on it. Easy enough to fake if she ever needed a new one. She thanked him and offered once again to pay. He declined, as she knew he would, but it was the decent thing for her to at least offer.
Just as soon as she replenished her coin supply, she could go to the tailor and commission a few garments to better blend in. After the costly trip to the herbalist, her purse was shamefully light. She dug out a few more gems from her bag and headed for Vivaldi's bank once again. The dwarf was as helpful and discreet as last time, and soon she was back at the inn with a full purse.
A foul smell greeted her arrival, and she scrunched up her nose in disgust.
"What's that horrid stench?" she asked, fighting the urge to gag.
"Yennefer," Zoltan replied from behind a crate.
"Yennefer?" She peered over the crate and saw him rummaging for something. After diving to the bottom of the box, he pulled out some herbs and placed them in a brazier. The smoke they gave out was fragrant and drowned out the foul smell in the establishment.
"Yes. The mighty sorceress herself came in here, huffing and puffing, all a mess and smelling worse than a drowner. She made a beeline for Geralt's... Oh, shite!" he said with wide eyes.
"What?" she asked with a quirked eyebrow.
"Um, there's a good chance she's in your room right now. The inn's full, so she asked for Geralt's room and Dandelion gave her a key. Your key."
"Thanks for letting me know. I'll go up and talk to her. I needed to anyway." She sighed and made straight for her room upstairs.
She found Yennefer lounging in her tub, hot steam rising from the water, smelling of lilac and gooseberries. Thankfully, there was no trace of the foul odour from downstairs. Yennefer threw a glance over her shoulder as soon as the door opened.
"Sorry, didn't expect to find you bathing. I'll come back once you're done." Criss made to leave.
"Stay," Yennefer stopped her. "I'll be done shortly. Besides, I believe this is your room. I asked that daft bard for the key to Geralt's room, but I should have known he'd find a way to mess up even such a simple request."
"He didn't mess up. This is Geralt's room as well as mine."
Yennefer hummed and twisted in the tub to face Criss with an amused look.
"Can't say I'm surprised. He really is incorrigible." She exhaled loudly and rolled her eyes. "Geralt, I mean. He never could keep it in his pants. It's just like him to be near death and still find a way to worm under some woman's skirt."
"I hope this won't be a cause for discord between us," Criss said, weary of another ill-reception.
"Why would it be?"
"Ciri took it rather badly, and I wasn't sure how you'd feel about it, even if Geralt assured me in no uncertain terms that your relationship was over."
"My dear, if I had a problem with every woman who had him in her bed, I'd be at odds with half the continent, all working girls in the city and most of my friends." Her lips twisted in a wry smile. "We are truly over, and it's something I thank the gods for each day." She extended a long leg out of the water and ran the sudsy washcloth over it. "Trying to keep that man faithful is like trying to put perfume on a zeugel to make it smell better. A futile attempt destined for failure." Her eyes moved for the briefest second to Criss. "But I wish you the best of luck with him."
"Thanks," she said, unable to bite back her sarcasm.
"Anything else you need or do you just like to watch me bathe?" Yennefer teased with a smirk.
Criss laughed. "I almost want to tell you it's the latter just to see what you'd do. Besides, I wanted to leave. You're the one who asked me to stay, so maybe you're the one who enjoys the audience."
"So it's the former. Tell me, what can I help you with?"
"Geralt said there are anti-magic wards surrounding Novigrad and Oxenfurt. Something about portals not working and magic triggering an alarm. He said you'd be the person to ask about their capabilities."
"Mmm, yes. They're the reason I'm now bathing." She continued to run the washcloth over the rest of her body while she explained. "Radovid has taken a page from Emhyr and snatched himself a few mages. Not the best, but willing to put aside their morals and betray their kin. They put up these so-called wards – an embarrassment, really. All they manage to stop are portals and illusions. As for the rest, it's all working as it should. With the number of magical amulets and trinkets common folks possess, it would be useless to set up an alarm system for minor spells. It would just go off every ten minutes or so."
"So you had to enter the city through the sewers, judging by the smell?"
Yennefer's nose crinkled. "Unfortunately. And last night's downpour did me no favours. Between the muck I had to wade through and the drowners crawling through the underground passages, it made for a... shitty arrival into the city."
Criss snorted good-naturedly and Yennefer replied with a wry smile. She shared Geralt's love of questionable puns and that simple fact endeared the sorceress to her.
"Thank you. At least now I know what to avoid while I do my best to help Ciri."
Yennefer glanced at her, then stood from the tub, unabashedly naked. Her shapely body was a marvel to look at and Criss deemed she was showing it off purposefully, to gauge her reaction. Perhaps she was trying to rattle her or see if there was any jealousy. And since the display was purposeful, Criss looked her over from head to toe, without trying to disguise her curiosity. Sparkling drops of water slid off her ivory skin like shimmering diamonds, caressing her curves in their path, gliding over her pale nipples, down her taut stomach, towards the apex of her thighs.
Criss smiled, just as shameless. "Next time you ask me, I'll tell you I simply like to watch you bathe."
Yennefer chuckled, amused by her answer, and waved her hand; the window opened, and the bathwater floated out and onto an unsuspecting victim's head, judging by the curses shouted from below. She picked up one of the towels from the bed and wrapped herself in it before rummaging inside her bag for a clean change of clothes.
"Any idea when Geralt will be back?" she asked while getting dressed.
"No, unfortunately. He left with Ciri in a hurry and no one knows where they went or for how long. Avallac'h is still steaming."
"And you're not?" Yennefer asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Me? No. I'm not happy about it, but I'm not angry either. They'll be back when they've accomplished what they set out to do. Until then, I'm sure there's plenty to be done right here."
"Indeed, there is. Trying to reconvene the Lodge is a difficult feat. I've finally found the whereabouts of Margarita Laux-Antille, one of the Lodge sorceresses, and a good friend of mine. Soon I'll be able to get to her. I just need to track someone down first."
"Anything I can help with?"
"No. Not unless you know how to find your way inside Deireadh, the Oxenfurt prison."
Yennefer glanced at her, and Criss shook her head. "Figured as much, but it didn't hurt to ask." She was now fully dressed in black and white travelling clothes with a short black hooded cloak covering her shoulders.
"I'm off to find lodgings and a certain someone to help me reach Margarita."
"I can't aid you with your friend, but I might be able to help with the first part. You can sleep here if you want. All the inns in the city are overflowing with customers and it's doubtful you'll find a room anywhere for the next few days at least."
"Thank you for the offer, but I'm sure I'll be able to find accommodations."
"Suit yourself, but if by chance you don't, know that the offer still stands. Provided Geralt doesn't return meanwhile."
Yennefer picked up her bag, strode past her and out the door. Criss closed the window, took her city pass and left as well, stopping on the way out to ask Dandelion for indications to Elihal's shop. As it turned out, it was only a short walk away from the inn.
The shop wasn't much to look at from the outside, and if she hadn't known it was there, she might have missed it altogether. The only hint of its existence was a mannequin outside the door, dressed in an elaborate doublet with fine embroidery. She inspected the work and found it of the utmost quality, much better than she had expected, given the primitive state of this world.
As she entered the shop, she was met by a surprising image: an elf dressed up in what looked like a chicken suit. She suppressed a snort of laughter, but not without difficulty. Dandelion had told her that Elihal was a bit of an eccentric and ahead of the times with his love for both male and female attire, but he never mentioned animal costumes.
"Didn't you see the sign? The shop is closed today." He looked at her critically and none too friendly.
"I must have missed it. I was mesmerized by that beautiful doublet you have out front. Truly gorgeous craftsmanship, it's stunningly beautiful."
The elf's face softened under the weight of the compliment to his work.
"You need something mended?" he asked, waving his hand. "Since you're here already, I might as well see to your order," he said, rolling his eyes.
"I need a few items. Dresses, corsets, and a couple of other garments. Dandelion said you cater to women as well as men."
"You're a friend of Dandelion? Why didn't you open with that? Wait here just a moment. I need to get out of this ridiculous getup first." He moved into the adjoining room and continued to speak to her through the open door. "This odd fellow came through, a feather collector, he called himself. Asked for this unusual... costume. He paid well and I never judge, so I took his order. Said the feathers were harpy, and some witcher got them for him. This might be the most unusual garment I've ever made, and it piqued my interest enough to try it on."
"You don't have to explain. Where I come from, we don't judge others' business. To each their own."
He came back dressed in normal garb, carrying swatches of materials.
"This is the selection of fabrics I currently have available. War has made trade difficult and we must all make do until it's over."
They looked together through the materials and she chose dark coloured fabrics, more resilient to the dirt and grime present everywhere. She commissioned a few unpretentious dresses for daily use, another pair of trousers and a singular elegant gown. She wasn't even sure she'd ever need it, but it would have been a waste not to take advantage of Elihal's skill. A few of the items she needed were available for purchase, with minimal adjustments required - shirts mostly, and two corsets. The rest would take a week to complete, provided she came back in a few days for a final fitting.
By the time she left the shop with her purchases, the day was drawing to an end, the sunlight rapidly dwindling, bringing the evening chill with it. She drew the cloak closer to her body and hastened towards the looming gate. Time to test Zoltan's pass, she thought. The guards at the gate gave the papers a minimal glance, and her a more apprehensive look. She had taken some of Vivaldi's advice and adopted a less cheerful demeanour and braided her hair in an unpretentious style she had frequently seen worn around the city, but she refused to forgo using makeup completely. Perhaps it was a silly way to show her disdain for this world's wretched order. Or perhaps it was simply a vain habit to put it on each day. It didn't matter because in the end the guards allowed her passage into the city and she breathed out in relief.
She headed for the inn, thinking of some way to pass the time until sleep found her. Even if daylight was fading, her biological clock wasn't at all in tune with her environment, and sleep would elude her for many more hours.
The Chameleon was once again bustling with patrons, eating, drinking, dancing, and making merry. Dandelion was perched on his stool playing his lute. She waved a hand at him discreetly and he nodded back, not breaking his song. Zoltan was nowhere to be seen.
Some drunken customers who were having trouble standing upright almost knocked over Selise on her way to a table. Fortunately, she wasn't hurt, but the tray of drinks she was carrying was unsalvageable.
"Rowdy crowd tonight," Criss commented whilst picking up a stein that had rolled to her feet and handing it to Selise.
"No more than usual." She shrugged. "You get used to it after a while. Tonight's just a bit more difficult with one of the girls out sick. Not enough of us to get their drinks fast enough."
"Need help?"
Selise frowned as if the question was one of a philosophical nature instead of a simple yes or no one.
"If you need help, I have nothing else better to do," she further explained.
"I'd have to ask Zoltan..."
"I'll deal with Zoltan later. Just let me know what I can do to help now."
"You can tend the bar while I serve these customers."
Criss unbuckled her cloak and stashed it in one of the cupboards, then stationed herself behind the bar and began taking orders. Half the items the customers requested, she had never heard of before. Strange drinks like Mahakaman mead, Rivian kriek, Everluce and others with names equally foreign to her. Tending the bar was not a simple task, and she had to employ minor guidance spells to point her in the right direction for each order. Otherwise, she would have been stuck for hours rifling through bottles, trying to read each label in search of the right one. Even so, the clients kept piling on and it was a constant rush from one to the next, sometimes to the cellar or the pantry for special orders. The upside of all the running around was that she didn't have time to think about anything else or listen to another rendition of Geralt's heroic deeds. Occasionally, a lyric or two would catch her ear, but not enough to tug at her heartstrings.
Many hours later, the patrons dwindled, either going up to their rooms or to their respective homes, and Selise came to relieve her. She placed a stack of coins in front of her and Criss looked at it, confused.
"Part of tonight's tips. It's a team effort, so we all take a share."
"Thanks, but I didn't do it for the coin. I needed to keep my mind busy."
Selise hummed knowingly. "Either way, you've earned these. Did a decent job with the bar."
"If you insist, I'll use them to pay for my dinner."
Criss pocketed the coins with a thankful smile, then snuck into the kitchen to ask the cook for a plate of her daily special. She had barely started on her dinner when Zoltan strutted into the tavern, cursing loudly and vigorously. He walked past everyone, straight to the back of the inn, and dove into the cellar. Apparently, no one minded his behaviour, it stirred no questions, and no one tried to stop him.
"Is this normal for him?" Criss asked Selise, who was nearby.
"Aye. Every so often he plays gwent with the wrong bunch and just as often he comes back lighter of purse."
"Gwent?"
"Dwarven card game. Very popular. You never heard of it?"
Criss shook her head and regretted asking anything at all. She was doing a poor job of fitting in so far. Perhaps she should pull aside Dandelion and get him to teach her more about the customs of this world.
"I don't gamble."
Fortunately, Selise seemed to buy her sorry excuse for her ignorance and shuffled away to clear some tables.
Criss finished her meal and made her way upstairs to her room. Maybe sleep would find her more easily after having worked. She stowed away her purchases and hung up her travelling cloak before making use of the tub. The idea of hauling buckets upon buckets of water up the stairs was unappealing and Yennefer's assurance that nothing except portals and illusions were affected by the wards gave her the confidence to use magic to make her life easier. The spells she used while tending bar had been a small test to make sure no one took heed and no witch hunters appeared. And since the test went successfully unnoticed, she could use her magic to take a proper warm bath.
She opened the window, focused her magic and drew the humidity out of the air, gathering enough water to fill the tub three quarters through. Next, she connected to the intrinsic movement of the particles in the water and sped them up until the friction resulted in heat. Closing the window, she discarded her clothes, grabbed a fragrant bar of soap from her bag and a washcloth, and sank into the warm water. She sighed and leaned back into the tub. Bliss, she thought.
A knock at her door drew her from her stupor and she jumped, making the water slosh around the tub. She must have fallen asleep.
"Just a moment," she replied when the knock repeated itself.
She dried herself quickly, put on a nightdress and a robe and opened the door. In front of the frame stood Yennefer.
"Is your offer still good?" she asked, looking not quite happy.
"Of course. I take it there are no vacancies in Novigrad."
"None!" Yennefer huffed and walked past her into the room. "Not even at the Passiflora!"
"Wow! If you considered a brothel before coming here, I can guess how enthusiastic you were about sharing a room with me. I swear I don't bite."
"You misunderstand. It's not a lack of enthusiasm that made me look for lodgings elsewhere. I simply don't wish to owe anyone favours. As for the Passiflora, it wouldn't be my first choice, but not because I mind the whoring. It's the noise I have a problem with. Too much moaning and groaning and too many lewd thoughts. It's hard to shut it all out and get a good night's sleep."
Criss smirked. No moaning and groaning here. Not until Geralt gets back, she thought.
"At least here it's peaceful. You seem to know how to keep your thoughts to yourself and right now that's something I appreciate," Yennefer continued, dropping her bag next to the bed and looking at the tub.
"I interrupted your bath. Apologies."
"No need. I was done. Besides, I interrupted yours earlier today so we can call it even."
Criss opened the window and with a wave of her hand, the water from the tub turned to steam and wafted out into the cold evening air.
"Interesting spell," Yennefer said with a raised eyebrow. "Your casting gestures are very reminiscent of Ida's and Francesca's. Very Elven-like."
"Did you find your friend? Or the person who can lead you to your friend?" Criss redirected while securing the latch on the window.
"Not quite. I found his watering hole, but he's yet to show up. I'll have to return tomorrow and wait again. But even waiting patiently can be surprisingly tiring."
"Better get some rest then. I'll take the window side of the bed. You can have the other."
Yennefer nodded, and Criss couldn't help a small smile.
"Is there something you find amusing?" Yen asked while undressing.
"No, but it will be amusing to see Geralt's face when I tell him I slept with you," Criss replied after getting into bed.
Yennefer suppressed a snort of laughter, but schooled her face and replied dryly. "If that's how you plan to phrase it, then I know exactly how he'll react. He'll get a dirty grin as soon as he hears."
"Ah, I see you're familiar with his 'thinking of sex' face!"
"Who isn't?"
"He's not subtle, but that's part of his charm," Criss replied with a tilt of her head.
"Charm?" Yennefer scoffed, amused, and got into bed next to her.
Criss raised an eyebrow and laughed. "Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. I doubt you would have suffered him for so long if you didn't find him charming. Even a djin spell can only do so much."
Yennefer rolled her eyes. "Fine. I admit. He had a certain appeal. Even too much or too wide of an appeal at times."
"Is there such a thing?"
"When you're in a banquet hall full of sorceresses showing their tits to him, it can be too much."
"You mean cleavage or..." Yen raised an eyebrow in response, and Criss gaped in shock. "Is that a thing here?"
"What? Tits? Or showing them?" Yennefer asked with a laugh.
"Let's compound the two: showing your tits at a banquet."
"It's not frowned upon. And certainly the witcher appreciates the view."
"That last part I don't doubt, but nothing I've seen so far indicates that anyone here would be comfortable in a room full of half-naked women."
"Not ordinary women, sorceresses. We do what we please as a general rule, or at least we used to." Her mirth disappeared, and a shadow of sadness and nostalgia passed over her face. "Radovid saw to it that it ended. And if he wins the war, there will be no place for us to hide on this Continent."
They crossed yet another bridge on their long trek, bringing them just a little closer to their destination. It could have been a more pleasant journey if the weather was on their side, but since they woke that morning, it had been pouring and both Ciri and Geralt were in a sour mood because of it.
Geralt pulled his cloak tighter to his chest and looked in the distance. The silhouette of a keep loomed over the river, behind the thick curtain of rain. Crow's Perch, the Bloody Baron's keep. Or at least it was. Ciri followed his gaze and her train of thought continued his.
"Did I ever tell you about the Baron?" she asked.
"No, but he told me about you."
"Something good I hope."
He snorted. "Depends on how you look at it. It can be good or foolish. Hunting a boar with a sword and fighting a basilisk. Don't know if I should feel proud or scold you."
"Since you haven't started on a lecture yet, can I assume it's the former option?"
He smiled. "It would be a fair assumption. I'd still prefer it if you'd not put yourself in dangerous situations. Or be so trusting with strangers. The Baron was not the most chivalrous of men. He could have easily sold you out had he known exactly who you are."
"Don't be dramatic. He was hardly that bad. Maybe he was a bit of a cur, but he took me in when I needed help." She took a deep breath and glanced at the outline of the keep. "I wonder how he's doing."
"A bit of a cur is mildly putting it. He beat his wife within an inch of her life, made her miscarry, then had me chasing all over Velen and Oxenfurt to retrieve her and her daughter, telling me they had disappeared when he knew damn well they were fleeing him."
Ciri pursed her lips and frowned. "If he got you running errands for him, then he had you fooled, too."
"Not in the least. I did it for you." She quirked an eyebrow at him, not understanding how any of it was connected to her. "He wouldn't tell me what happened to you unless I helped him first."
"Bastard." Her jaw clenched, and her gaze flitted from the keep to the road ahead.
"Men are selfish, Ciri. More so now when war is being waged."
"I know, I know. I'm just pissed at myself for fretting over the bastard's state of health when I should have been wiser. Use him and move on."
"That's not wisdom. That's bitterness, and I'd hate for you to become bitter and jaded."
She pulled the hood of her cloak over her face and spurred her horse. He let her take the lead, and followed behind, giving her the space she needed. If she wanted to be alone with her thoughts, it was her right.
They drudged on in silence until a crossroads came into sight with a notice hanging over the sign. Ciri was the first to dismount to have a look. By the time he caught up, bandits had sprouted from the nearby coppice and Ciri's blade was already in her hand. Roach nickered under him, restless. He had no time to use gentle words to soothe her nerves. Instead, his fingers traced Axii, and he jumped out of the saddle to join the fight.
Ciri had it well under control, swinging her sword with grace, drawing bloody patterns on the muddy road with the spray from severed arteries. He cut down a bandit, thrusting his sword through his gut before slashing his throat, while she detached another's head from his body. Another approached Ciri's back, and before she could even turn, Geralt already skewered the man and left him to draw his last breath in a puddle of blood.
The witcher covered her back, and they fought as one until their assailants were all dead.
"I could have handled them all, you know," she proudly said.
"Oh, I've no doubt." He smirked and shook his head. "You were always a quick learner and you've become a fine swordsman. I know you can take care of yourself, but when you're with me, you can't ever expect me to just sit by and watch."
She smiled and wiped her blade before sheathing it.
"Come, let's get the horses. It's getting dark, and soon we'll need to find shelter for the night. Maybe this ungodly rain will stop by morning," he said, already going back to retrieve Roach, who was munching on a nearby patch of grass.
She looked up at the sky. "I doubt it. This land is a dreary place and the weather only matches its spirit."
A little further down the road, south of Crow's Perch, they came across a small house. They looked for signs of anyone living there, but the place was deserted and, by the looks of it, it had been sacked already. It still had a door and the hearth could still be used to light a fire, so they made camp inside after leading the horses to a nearby covered enclosure and tending to them.
He broke an old cupboard whose doors were already hanging off their hinges and used the wood to make a fire. The weather was so humid that anything left outside would have been soaked and impossible to light, even using Igni. Soon, a steady fire was burning in the hearth and they had both warmed up.
They fished some jerky, bread and cheese from their supplies and sat down for a meal.
"I wonder where the people living here went," Ciri mused while gazing into the flames.
"Same as the rest of Velen. Either moved or died. It's a dangerous time to be living in such a secluded place. There's safety in numbers, and the Temerians know that."
"Do you always have to be so cynical?" she asked, irritated.
"Just giving you the truth." He frowned, trying to contrive a better story for her. "But it's possible that they moved up North. Maybe they built a new house by a peaceful stream and he fishes while she spins yarn. And they spend their evenings in peace by the fire, listening to the song of crickets outside."
Ciri snorted. "There are no crickets singing this time of year. Certainly not up North. Still, I appreciate the beautiful lie." She sighed, her eyes scouring the floorboards. "I hate this war. Everyone is miserable because of it. I don't see what's the gain, even for the winner. I mean, sure, the kings and the emperor get accolades. But what of the common folk? They're no better off, no matter who wins."
"Since when do rulers care about the common people beyond the taxes they can levy from them?"
She shrugged, eyes still trained on the floor. "Don't know. I just think there has to be a better way to rule than this. Does no ruler ever care?"
He thought for a moment, then realized there was one person he had discounted.
"Queen Saskia did, and the people loved her for it. Elves, humans, and dwarves alike. Even a pair of trolls helped defend Vergen against king Henselt."
"You were there for the battle?" Ciri asked, her eyes alight with interest.
"I was. And we won that day, although I'm not sure how much good that did in the long run. Radovid overtook Kaedwen because of the instability we caused, and Nilfgaard took the rest of Aedrin. What remained of Saskia's forces scattered under the Mahakam mountains last I heard. She might very well be dead."
Ciri bit back her disappointment as best she could. "Wish I could have met her. She might have made for a good queen, judging by what you say."
"Too bad she didn't have the numbers behind her. In this world, many times strength overcomes wisdom." His words brought gloom to her face, so he turned the conversation towards a more hopeful light. "But I'm sure in time we'll move towards better ways of doing things. I've read about other means of ruling and I don't see why we couldn't see some of those applied in the future."
"Where did you read about those?" She looked at him.
It was his turn to shrug. "Not here. On another world."
"Tell me about it."
Now all her focus was on him as he told her about the systems of government he'd read about in Criss's world.
"And were the people happy?" she asked.
"Not all. But when has everyone been happy?"
"So there's no good way to do it."
"There's probably no perfect recipe, but a caring ruler is better than a ruthless one, no?"
He put his hand around her shoulders and tucked her into his side. There were no straightforward answers to the world's problems. There would always be a measure of misery somewhere. It was just a fact of life every child learned in time - if the war didn't snub out their young lives before they've had a chance to grow.
