"What the hell?" was all Geralt got out before Criss was kneeling next to the figure, dragging the covers with her.
A potent smell of roasted meat and charred fabric wafted up from the unconscious visitor. Geralt crinkled his nose in disgust at the memory of Radovid's pyres and helped her turn him over.
"Avallac'h?" he asked once the hood of the cloak fell back and the elf's pointed ears and braids were in plain view. Not much else was recognizable, his skin was a furious red and covered with blisters.
For a moment his eyes flickered open and he managed a whispered "Help" through cracked lips, then he was out of it again. His breathing and heart were barely audible.
Within an instant, the shutters of the windows violently closed, same as the door left ajar and the curtains drew themselves together. The blinding light that followed forced his eyes shut. He couldn't see a thing, but he heard the blood-curdling scream the elf let out. He fell silent in seconds and Geralt reckoned she had put him to sleep lest he wake the whole building.
The whole process took so long, that by the time the light dimmed down, frantic steps had reached the door and after a series of loud knocks, a key twisted in the lock. He was wiping his eyes in a futile attempt to rid himself of the dark spots that lingered in his vision, but he knew the impatient intruder by voice. Dandelion.
"Are you..." Dandelion broke off, and Geralt strained to see what had become of the elf. Slowly his sight cleared enough for him to see Criss, crouching over Avallac'h, her palms on his temples with her thumbs over the bridge of this nose. The elf's face was restored, but his skin was still flushed. The light coming from her had dimmed but hadn't died down completely so he pushed a stunned Dandelion out of the way and closed the door behind him so no unwitting traveller would see the scene.
"Wha..." Dandelion mumbled once Geralt's shove dragged him from his dazed state. He looked from the elf to Criss, to Geralt, uncomprehending. "I thought I heard..."
"You did. It was Avallac'h," Geralt replied, his eyes fixed on the elf's face and his ears pricked to catch any stray sound. The erratic drum of his heartbeat was increasing fast. Too fast. Criss's brows knitted together and the magic that worked through her intensified in response. Dandelion gasped, his eyes fixed on her until the light retreated and she released the elf's temples. A faint grunt came from Avallac'h.
"Two steps forward, one step back," she muttered, wiping her brow and pulling her hair back from her face. "Geralt, can you..." she began, but stopped once she lifted her eyes and became aware that they weren't alone. "Can you help me get him to his room?" she asked, looking from one man to the other.
Dandelion muttered something unintelligible and Geralt shoved him again. "Help or get out of my way."
He moved to the side and Geralt grabbed a clean pair of trousers and a shirt while she gathered herself off the floor.
"You mind?" she asked, twirling a finger at Dandelion in a bid for privacy while they changed. The bard promptly turned to face the door, recovering his wits in the process.
"What exactly happened?" he asked with his usual curiosity and a hint of amusement. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say he stumbled onto you two doing the deed, had a shock and collapsed."
"Hah hah, very funny," Geralt replied dryly. "You're hysterical, as usual."
"I'm sure there's a very serious explanation for all this but, what's life without a bit of fun? And you must admit it's not every day that one finds a passed out elf sage on the floor next to two of his friends, almost naked and covered in love marks."
That last remark would have made Geralt flush if he were physically capable of it, reminding him of the bites he had left on her breasts and the ones that riddled his neck and shoulders.
"You can turn around now," Criss said as she finished dressing.
Dandelion turned and his eyes dropped to her cleavage for a brief moment.
"Stop staring, you asshole," Geralt chided, already shifting the unconscious elf into a sitting position and preparing to brace his weight against his side. With a dramatic sigh, Dandelion grabbed Avallac'h's other side and heaved him up.
"When you're here, there's never a dull moment in this place, that much I'll say," he grunted as they carried the elf up two flights of stairs.
Dandelion proffered his link of keys, pointing to one that had a red bead encrusted in the wroth metal. Criss took it from him and opened the door to the Ruby suite.
"I thought he'd have more room here, but I didn't count on him being a slob," she said, working to remove the piles of manuscripts and books that lay on the bed. "Last time I was here, this place was in much better shape."
Avallac'h faintly stirred between them just as they laid him over the covers.
"It feels like my insides are on fire," he moaned as he clutched his head with both hands.
"Not surprising considering your organs were boiled inside your body when you collapsed in our doorway," Criss replied while arranging a pillow behind his head. "Don't rub your eyes or you might cause more damage," she said, prying his hands away from his head, looking peeved.
With that, she came to Geralt's side, and Dandelion was quick to follow.
"He may look well on the outside, but what's inside is another matter."
Geralt shot the ailing elf a glance over her shoulder and heard the telltale signs of concealed pain – erratic breathing and pulse, sweating, the occasional grimace and teeth grinding.
His eyes returned to her. "What can I do to help?" he asked.
"Not much, unfortunately. But someone should tell Ciri about this."
"I'll go see if she's back," Dandelion offered.
Once they were alone with Avallac'h, she pulled off his boots and unclasped his cloak before laying a hand over his forehead. His skin burned, radiating from within, so she sat on the bed and cast another spell to dissipate some of the heat.
"How did you manage to bring yourself back in this condition? And where did you go?" she asked when she was done with the spell. "By how you're burning up, I'd say you visited hell itself."
He struggled to focus on her face, his pale aquamarine eyes were bloodshot and irritated, flickering open from time to time.
"I... miscalculated slightly," he grunted. After a strained pause and a grimace he continued. "Ended up on top of a volcano."
"And brought back all its heat with you in the process," she huffed while casting the spell again.
Avallac'h let out what must have been a chuckle but sounded more like a hoarse rattle. "I presume it's an aftereffect from portalling while boiling inside a magic shield."
"Whatever it is, you'll have to wade it out," she said matter-of-factly. "It would help you to get some rest and catch your strength. I'll keep watch over you."
The elf fell unconscious quickly, exhausted by the pain and effort of dragging himself back to the safety of the inn. A little while later, the door opened behind Geralt and Dandelion came in shaking his head.
"She's not back yet. I've left word with the staff to send her up as soon as she arrives," he whispered, trying not to wake the elf.
"Thank you, Dandelion," she replied.
She expected him to leave, but he pulled up a chair and sat beside her and Geralt.
"Your patrons must be waiting for your next ballad. There's no need for you to stand guard with us," she said.
"Oh, I'm not going anywhere. This might be part of my next composition. The fraught prologue to the epic battle between ancient wraiths that plague the nights and the mighty empress and her magical allies," he said, gesturing dramatically with every word.
"I hate to burst your bubble, but his wounds aren't a result of an epic battle. Just a bit of magic gone wrong," Geralt replied.
"Bah," Dandelion waved him off. "One has to see the opportunity in the situation and make the best of it."
"You mean lie about it," Geralt countered.
"Such a harsh word! Embellish is more suitable. Instead of magic gone wrong, this will be the wounds taken by the brave elven scout caught on the wrong foot in a daring attempt to gather information."
Criss chuckled and glanced at Avallac'h who had fallen into a deep sleep.
"If I were you, I'd not repeat that when he's awake. He may be ill now, but the sage won't take it well if he hears you reduced him to an elven scout." She repeated the spell as the elf had begun to shiver in his sleep.
"Perhaps I'll find a more flattering description if he leaves my beloved Ruby Suite in good condition." His eyes swept over the mess. Papers and books scattered everywhere, a platter of half-eaten food that was growing its own fauna, dirty tankards, spilt vials of potion that stained the carpet. "But by the looks of it, the room will need a thorough scrubbing and an exorcism by the time he vacates it."
Geralt huffed a laugh. "He's no worse than a certain bard I know when he's enthralled with his newest composition... or conquest. Remember that time at the Alchemy in Oxenfurt? The innkeeper had a fit and threw us out when he saw what you did to the room. To this day, I still can't drink there because of it."
Dandelion shrugged. "Art demands sacrifice. One cannot be expected to tend to menial tasks like cleaning up when the muse beckons."
"Uh-huh... Muse," Geralt scoffed. "You mean those blonde twins you brought back from the tavern?"
"I'll have you know that my best work was written while inspired by the charms of fair maidens."
"Those twins might have been fair. Maidens they were not."
Criss chuckled a small laugh at the turn their conversation took, then cast another spell as they debated the virtues and morals of Dandelion's past acquaintances. Although the bard seemed subdued now, the witcher hadn't forgotten his colourful past or the trouble he often landed them in.
The night passed quickly while listening to Geralt and Dandelion exchanging tales of their past shenanigans and soon the first rays of dawn painted the room a pleasant golden-orange hue. The bard left to get some rest and promised to send someone up with breakfast. In the ensuing silence, Criss rested her head over her hands on the edge of the bed and drifted into sleep.
Geralt watched as her eyelids fell shut under the heavy burden of sleep deprivation. Stubborn as she was, she would work herself into the ground if left to her own devices and this was the main reason he had kept watch alongside her. He had bantered with Dandelion but always had one eye on her, constantly assessing the toll her magic took. Whenever he thought she was overtaxing herself, he would distract her with a story to keep her from using her magic too often. These were the thoughts that were running through his mind when he noticed Avallac'h's eyes on him.
"You needn't have kept vigil over me," the elf said.
"I didn't. I kept it over her," Geralt replied, looking at her sleeping form.
"You worry for her?" he asked, following the witcher's gaze.
"That is what one does when one cares," Geralt answered patiently. "Don't you worry for Ciri?"
Avallac'h looked at him thoughtfully.
"I worry, but for entirely different reasons. One can't help but worry when the girl could drown worlds in darkness or set them aflame."
"Ciri will do neither. You need to stop treating her like a bomb about to go off."
"She might if she can't find a balance point inside her." His eyes turned to Criss. "Even this one sits on a fine edge. Who's to say that one wrong push might do? For her... for any of us."
"Hmm, and people call me grim. You're even more cynical than I."
"After seeing my own kind succumb and bargain, it is difficult to keep faith in anyone's unwavering resolution to one side."
"Eredin?"
Avallac'h shook his head. "No, I expected no more from him. He has forever been driven by his ambition. It was Caranthir I was surprised with. He had been my best apprentice before his rise in the Red Riders. Driven, patient, level-headed and talented. I was sure he'd be the next great elven sage of his generation. I never foresaw his fall."
"Perhaps he grew impatient," Geralt said.
"Perhaps. Whatever his motives, he now plays puppet to dark masters just like Imlerith." After a moment of heavy silence, he continued. "Ciri told me of your battle. She didn't understand the significance of what she witnessed, but I know better. And I surmise you do too."
Geralt nodded, keeping silent.
"When Auberon died, I had my suspicions, but I never had a way to confirm them. The thought of such an alliance was unthinkable for the offshoots of those who had the Gate in their keeping. It was our folly to think we could be incorruptible. Mine for not seeing it prior." Avallac'h shook his head and continued. "The more time passes, the more followers they'll gather, the harder it will be for us to succeed. We are but a handful and dreadfully underprepared for our foes."
"We'll have help," Geralt replied and tilted his head to the sleeping healer. "Allies of our own."
A light knock on the door interrupted him. Two maids came in, carrying platters of food. They set them down on the desk and took away the spoilt remains of previous meals. Despite their best attempts at being quiet, Criss stirred and woke as soon as they came into the room. She yawned and rubbed her eyes before turning to the elf.
"Have the symptoms returned?"
He shook his head.
"Good. Then it's safe to say you're out of the woods." She looked at Geralt who had come to stand at her side. "I thought you were bound to leave at first light."
"Plans have changed. Philippa can wait a few more hours."
"Geralt," she chided. "It's not just her, you know. If you don't show up, Roche might get suspicious. Their whole plan will fall apart without you."
He sighed and squeezed her shoulder. "I won't leave before we've had breakfast and I see you go back to your room."
She smiled and shook her head, knowing he meant he wouldn't leave before he made sure she ate and took care of herself.
"Alright, then we shouldn't let the tea get cold. Let's bring the trays over and the three of us can break our fast together."
As they were mid-meal, the door swung open and Ciri rushed into the room. She crossed the distance to the bed in a few long strides and flung herself around the elf's neck. He nearly choked on his food and awkwardly patted her back.
"Thank the gods you're well!" she said, then abruptly turned to Criss. "He is well, isn't he?"
She nodded with her mouth full, struggling to chew faster so she could speak. Geralt beat her to it.
"He's fine now, but it was a long night for all of us," he said with a furtive look to Criss.
"I see," Ciri said wringing her hands with downcast eyes. "I'm sorry I wasn't here."
"Zireael, you couldn't have prevented this," Avallac'h said, guessing her expression stemmed from guilt.
"And there wasn't anything you could have done to help," Geralt added, feeling sorry for how his daughter always took all these burdens on herself.
"Maybe I could have if I spent more time honing my magic instead of having fun." She paced the room with three pairs of eyes on her. "You're all out there risking yourselves while I dither and waste time. I should be gathering knowledge, learning spells, fighting..."
"Ciri, there are limits to what one can do alone," Geralt said. "There is knowledge and there is wisdom. The former is useless without the latter. And letting friends help and lend their strengths to your cause is proof of wisdom."
She stopped her pacing and turned to face them. "So you're saying I should do nothing?"
"No, I'm saying you have to let others do what you can't."
"But apparently that's everything," she huffed. She rubbed her forehead and sighed. "You two should get some rest. I'll be here and if anything happens, I'll call you," she said.
After doing away with the rest of their breakfast, they both returned to their room. With a little convincing, Geralt managed to sway her to get a few hours' rest before going off to meet Dijkstra. He strapped on his armour and weapons while she undressed and got into bed.
"You were unusually silent in there," he remarked as she settled between the pillows. "I was expecting you to say something about the virtues of patience. Share something of your experience. After all, your path and Ciri's are not so different."
"Under different circumstances, I might have, but she's barely gotten over the fact that I'm shagging her father. Imparting wisdom and unsolicited advice might make it seem like I'm trying to... mother her. And in any case, you were doing a great job. There was no need for me to step on your feet."
"Next time feel free to step on any toes you like. I doubt she'll take it as bad as you think."
She gave him a look that conveyed her doubts and changed the subject.
"Will you be going straight to the king when you return?" she asked.
"Mhm, I reckon so," he said, fastening the last buckles of his satchel. "It might be a day or two before I return. I don't know if I'll be able to send word ahead, but I assume Philippa will find a way to let the Lodge know."
He sat on the side of the bed and leaned in to kiss her. Her lips moved against his in mellow delight until he parted them to deepen the kiss. If the moment could have stretched on forever, he wouldn't have minded, but time treaded on with disregard for his wants. He pulled away, turning the kiss into a series of nips on her lips.
"If we had more time, I'd give you more than a kiss goodbye," he said.
"Save it for your return," she purred next to his lips before kissing him again.
"I'll miss you," he said, resting his forehead against hers.
"You'd better," she replied with a grin and caressed his cheek. "Now, off you go, witcher, before I decide to tie you to the bed and keep you here," she said leaning back.
"Tie me to the bed? That's a new one," he laughed, standing up. "Alright, you wanton, I'll be on my way. Take care of yourself while I'm gone."
She just smiled and nestled under the covers with a sleepy gaze.
It was nearing mid-day when Geralt left Novigrad, heading east after making a stop at the Kingfisher in Hierarch's Square. That particular inn was the preferred watering hole for the king's men, hence why Geralt rarely visited it. On this day he made a deliberate exception. If his mere presence wasn't enough, he dropped a few lines to the barkeep about going on a rare bird hunt before buying supplies for the road and setting off.
By the time he reached the city gates, he already had a tail, just as he intended. His next stop was the Seven Cats Inn. He set Roach to a trot and within the hour he was next to the inn's noticeboard.
He rifled through the various notices until he found one that stirred his interest. After ripping it from the board, he went inside the tavern. A few minutes later, his tail followed him in. Geralt saw him out of the corner of his eye, but pretended to be oblivious and continued his conversation with the innkeeper.
"This notice says there's been a disturbance in the area south of here. Something of a magical nature that ruined the nearby crops, and possibly killed some farm animals. Know anything about it?"
"Aye, it's been going on for the last few days. Didn't think nothin' of it till' Bertha disappeared, then no one wanted to go to those parts."
"Bertha? Is she one of the villagers?"
"Hah! Bertha? She's our prize cow. Was." She shook her head.
"And no one tried to retrieve her?"
"Aye, they did. Didn't get further than the bridge when lightning came down from the clear skies above. Nearly offed Herbert. Singed him pretty good. None dared after that."
"They didn't see what caused the lighting?"
"Klaus said he saw a figure, but wouldn't speak of it for fear of summonin' it. He's the one who posted that notice hoping a witcher would pass by and see it."
"Well, then he's in luck. A witcher did see it," Geralt said, tugging on his medallion chain. "Mind telling me where I could find this Klaus?"
She pointed him to a hut a close way from the inn, easily recognizable by the straw puppet in the front yard. Geralt supposed it was meant to represent a cow, but whoever made it didn't have much skill and it could as well have been a dog or a horse.
He knocked on the cottage door and a grizzled old man answered.
"Looking for Klaus," Geralt said, lifting the ripped notice. "I'm here about his notice. Heard he saw something across the bridge."
The man prompted him to wait and disappeared inside. In his stead, a middle-aged brawny man appeared.
"You a witcher?" he asked.
"Yeah. You're Klaus?"
"Aye, come in. Pa' doesn't like strangers, but we can't speak in the yard. Not about this."
Gerald followed the man in and took a seat across from him, accepting the ale offered to him.
"So the innkeeper says you won't speak of what you saw to anyone but a witcher."
"You'd understand if you were from around here. People talk. They ridicule. I don't want to be known as crazy Klaus."
Geralt quirked an eyebrow, expecting the man to spin his tale. As he spoke, his fright was genuine enough.
"Sometimes the cattle wander off in search of grazing when the village kids who are supposed to herd them are off playing. So I and a few others went to find Bertha, but none saw anything except the lightning. We were just over the bridge, heading for the fields south when it came down from above. At first, we thought it a fluke, but then it almost hit Herbert. All of us ducked for cover, but I stuck out my head to see where the damned bolts came from. And, out of nowhere, a statue appeared in the tall grass."
"A statue? Like a normal one, or..."
"No, not a normal one! Who heard of a statue appearing out of nowhere? And not only that..." He paused shaking his head. "Ugh, not even a witcher's gonna believe this."
"Trust me, I've seen my share of the unusual and impossible. Whatever you saw, there's a chance I've encountered it before."
"Well... The statue... It wasn't normal-looking. It was... fat and horned, with little stone wings that flapped. And one moment it was there, the next it disappeared into thin air right in front of my eyes."
"Sounds like a gargoyle."
"So I'm not crazy?"
"Not at all. And I can rid the area of it." Geralt drained the last of his ale and stood. "Mind showing me where you saw the creature?"
The man shook at the mere idea. "I'll take you to the end of the bridge, but I'll go no further. Seeing that thing once was enough for me."
With that said, the man led the way. At the end of the wooden bridge, he hid behind a pillar. "It was that way, beyond the fence," he stammered, pointing ahead.
Geralt nodded and went on alone. A few yards away, scorched marks littered the ground. He drew his sword and advanced carefully, looking for any signs of movement. Nothing but the wind stirred the tall grass and for a moment he thought he could reach the nearby fenced-in field without challenge.
He was wrong.
One false step and he triggered a magical trap. The first bolt of lightning he caught on the edge of his sword, the current ran all the way through the blade to the pommel, heating the metal to a glow. The sword held on to the magic, but vibrated with it until the rattle reached his bones. Unable to control the surge, he redirected it into a nearby tree, setting it ablaze.
A great bellowing laugh came from the field and then another bolt came down. This time he cast Quen, but the force of it shattered it in an instance and he was flung back. Luckily, the distance he was pushed to was out of range of the trap and the third bolt landed harmlessly on the dirt path.
Geralt got up and circled around, hoping that he could evade the trigger.
Again, he was wrong.
More lightning came down, connecting with the ground around him, stopping his advance. The same laugh rippled through the air as a bolt hit mere inches from his feet. There was no way to push forward.
In his frustration, the witcher caught the next bolt on his blade, this time working more purposefully to control the magic. He scoured the field for a sign of whoever was laughing at his efforts and when he heard a rustle in the weeds, he released the energy in that direction. The result was no more than another fire while the laughter sounded from a different direction.
Another bolt, another Quen sign, and Geralt was back at square one, unable to push through. To his annoyance, the creature cackled at his retreat.
Klaus waited for him with a nonplussed expression.
"It's a gargoyle and a magic trap. And since gargoyles don't lay such traps and don't tend to roam the fields, I'm sure this one is guarding something... or someone. What lays beyond this path besides grazing fields for cattle?"
"Nothing much, just a cabin. Deserted as far as anyone knows."
"I doubt it's deserted now. I have to find a way around," Geralt said.
"There's a path leading east from Tretogor Gate that reaches the other end of this bridge, but we've no idea if it's safe."
"I'll scout it out, but I need to leave my horse here. Don't want to risk her in case there's another trap on the other side."
"Aye, I'll keep her in my stables until you return."
Geralt left Roach in his care and set out, knowing that once he'd be out of earshot, the man would head to the inn and babble all the witcher told him. Soon the king's man would know that Geralt had found evidence of a mage's lair. Hopefully, that would lend enough credibility to his claim of having found Philippa.
On foot, it took a few more hours until Geralt reached Tretogor Gate. He spent some time politely asking questions in the nearby settlement and to his relief, there had been no rumours of magical disturbances or malevolent creatures. Dancing through another round of lightning wasn't something he was keen on.
He followed the path going east, ready to draw his sword at any time, watching each shadow with interest. Nothing barred his path and soon the outline of the wooden bridge was in sight.
Between him and the bridge lay a wooden cabin. With sword in hand, he approached under the cover of the last fading rays of the day. Thankfully, there were no traps set for anyone coming from this direction.
He thought it was luck, but he was wrong for the third time that day.
Out of the brush, stood a stony head, crowned with a pair of horns. Then a second and a third. He silently cursed Philippa and her desire to make their ruse believable as the three beasts rushed him.
The battle that ensued was a testament to how perilous elemental creations can be. One moment the witcher was dashing to the side to strike at a gargoyle, only to have to dodge the leap of another monster and duck under the blow of another. It was a mess of stony limbs, horns mingled with a flash of silver, but in the end, the witcher prevailed although he got plenty of bruises for his troubles.
He wiped his sweaty forehead and gripped his left shoulder, pulling it back into its socket after downing a healing potion. Everything hurt as if an avalanche had fallen on his head, but by the next day, he hoped that most of the aches would be gone, leaving behind only yellowing bruises. He cursed Philippa again and checked the door of the cabin for additional traps before going in to investigate.
The interior was sparse and looked much like what you'd expect from a deserted cabin in a field, but the faint trace of ozone still lingered in the air. Someone had worked magic there no more than a day prior. He inspected every item in sight until he hit upon a closed latch half-hidden under a wardrobe. After moving the furniture aside, he lifted the cover with a powerful tug. At least the witch hadn't bothered to lock it.
A ladder led down into a carved out tunnel. The passage was dark and Geralt didn't mean to give himself away in case Philippa had more surprises in store, so he pulled out a flask of Cat instead of a torch. The new citrus tang of the potion put a smile on his face as his pupils widened to their fullest.
In complete silence, he walked the tunnel, until he met the first fork in the road. He scented the air, trying to figure out which direction was the correct one, but there was nothing particular about one path or another. The mess of footsteps didn't help either. From the look of it, the tunnel had been heavily used by the gargoyles. In the end, he chose the left path and followed it on. It turned out to be a dead end with another ladder leading up. He climbed it and pushed open the latch on top only to find himself in the middle of the field adjacent to the bridge. Besides solving the mystery of how Klaus saw the gargoyle appear out of nowhere, this did nothing to help Geralt's quest, so he returned to the underground passage and retraced his steps to the fork in the road, this time choosing the other path.
He wandered through the underground tunnels for what must have been hours. They twisted and winded, climbing, descending and splitting until he was at his wits' end. Most ended with similar ladders, leading into empty fields or groves. If Yen hadn't told him that Philippa had a secret hideout in the area, he would have given up long ago. He was almost out of Cat when he reached a tunnel that ended in a deactivated portal.
He searched around, knowing the activation crystal had to be somewhere close. On the opposite wall, he sensed something amiss so he pulled out the Eye of Nehaleni and waved it over the rocky surface to reveal a hidden niche containing the activation mechanism for the portal. A blast of Aard was enough to power it up.
Cursing once more, he walked through the stone arch and into a laboratory. Philippa was on the other side of an alchemy kit, measuring and pouring mixtures into vials.
"Ah, witcher! Took you long enough," she said. "I expected you hours ago."
"You didn't make it exactly easy for me."
"I didn't want to insult your legendary prowess. If I made it too easy, then Radovid's men or the villagers would have gotten here before you. A few gargoyles and some tunnels couldn't have been much of a challenge for the White Wolf. "
Geralt grumbled under his breath, thinking of the hours wasted on this errand.
"You've always had such a way with words, Philippa. You manage to insult even under the guise of a compliment." He rounded the table to have a closer look at the potions. The colour looked similar to what they had been brewing at the inn. "What's in those vials?" he asked.
"Nothing that concerns you," she replied dryly.
"What does concern me, Philippa? Or should I just leave to see the king immediately?"
"That sounds like a terrific idea, Geralt. Off you go," she waved him off.
"You must be joking!"
"I assure you I am not. There's nothing here for you. You're to go to the king, get him to send his troops and return with them here."
"And then what? Kill them? I may be a witcher, but I can't beat an army on my own."
She clicked her tongue and if she would have had eyes, Geralt swore she would have rolled them at him. "Not on your own. Those lovely gargoyles you fought are only a few of the dozens roaming the tunnels. The rest will decimate the king's forces."
"And me in the process."
"Ugh, honestly Geralt, I expected more from you. They're under an exclusion spell, so they won't attack you. You'll be perfectly safe."
Geralt rubbed his forehead, weary and annoyed with Philippa's condescension. If he never had to deal with her again, it would still be too soon. He turned to leave, but remembered one key detail they hadn't discussed.
"One more thing. If I'm supposed to convince the king I've found you... I'll need some sort of proof."
"Here," Philippa said, handing him a ring. "Show him this and he'll believe you."
Geralt took it and turned it between his fingers. It bore the former king's seal. He stashed it into a pocket and left through the portal, not bothering to say any parting words.
The trek back through the tunnels was shorter this time, having memorized the twists and turns already. By the time he left the cabin and headed for Tretogor Gate, the sky was beginning to lighten. He shook his head, dismayed that he had spent the entire night in the cave system below.
He returned to Seven Cats Inn the roundabout way since the lightning trap was still active and retrieved Roach before going to see the king. He assured Klaus that by the end of the next day, the lightning would cease, but warned against venturing in that direction until then.
A little past noon, Criss woke and dressed to see Dijkstra. As usual, he was in his study at the Novigrad bathhouse.
"Welcome," he said, lifting his head from the piles of paperwork in front of him. "Please, take a seat."
"I take it you've learned the reason Bedlam has it out for me?"
"Of course. Truth be told, it wasn't all that difficult to find for one who knows this city well and sees how it's changed in recent months. Such change isn't without consequence."
She quirked an eyebrow. "You're saying I caused this change?"
"Yes. To be more precise, it was your involvement with Von Gratz and the Vilmerius Hospital." He shook his head, seeing her lack of understanding and started again. "I forget, you're a foreigner here. You probably don't even know who Bedlam is and what people call him here."
"I only heard he's a thug," she said dispassionately.
"That's a little reductive, but correct. He's known as The King of Beggars or at least he was known by that title until recently. His beggars have mostly left his service in recent times."
"And that's my fault?"
"Very much so, yes. He offered shelter in the Bits in exchange for service and a cut of their profits. The poor and ill of the city used to be at his beck and call, but since Von Gratz's cures have become so efficient, most of them have sought relief from their ailments. His beggar army is slowly dwindling as the people of the city refuse to give to them, instead telling them to go seek cures." He steepled his fingers under his chin. "So you see why he would be interested in being rid of those who caused him all this trouble."
"Great," she said, rubbing her forehead. "So it's not just me he's after."
"You, Von Gratz, the hospital itself and all its staff. My sources tell me he even asked for the witch hunters' help, stating that the hospital is a haven for mages who wish to stir up trouble for the king."
"And did the hunters believe him?"
"It's not a question of belief. It's more about what's convenient. The king doesn't shy away from burning people at the stake mainly because it's easy to make his subjects believe it's in their best interest. The hospital is a different matter. Magic or no magic, half the city has benefited from its existence and none would look too kindly upon a king or a church who would take such help from them. As much as Radovid would want to raze the place to the ground, he can't. Not by his hand at least."
"So he plans to use Bedlam to keep his hands clean. But wouldn't that turn the city against Bedlam?"
"Not if they thought he was saving them. See, if by chance there was a magical disturbance in the area, something that threatened the safety of the city... Then Bedlam would be viewed as a saviour for quelling the unrest and if the hospital, the good doctor or you happened to be collateral damage, then... You understand."
"Magical disturbance?" she asked, her brows furrowing. "The attack," she said after a moment of thought. "He knows about the Lodge's plan to attack?"
"He knows it's inevitable and he's been preparing for it. He's not half as foolish as people make him out to be, but he is even more paranoid than they know. My source tells me he's been developing some sort of weapon inside the Church. Something his scientists have been working on."
"How do you know all this?" she asked, dismayed. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're the king's man."
Dijkstra laughed. "Oh, I have my sources, but worry not, what I've told you the Lodge already knows. And now that I've told you, I believe my debt is repaid."
She left the meeting with Dijkstra still reeling from the barrage of information and the consequences that flowed from all of it. When their combined forces would attack the king, Bedlam's men would assault the hospital and whatever way she thought of it, she couldn't be in two places at once. Not to mention she had no idea what weapon Radovid now held.
She returned to the inn still trying to work out how she could keep both the hospital safe and keep her promise of helping Geralt and his allies overthrow the king. Her first stop was Yennefer's room. She relayed in short what Dijkstra had told her and point-blank asked what the Lodge's plan was.
"I know your plan can't be only what you've told Geralt and the rest at the Passiflora. Dijkstra said you've known about Radovid's weapon and I refuse to believe you don't have a counter for it. None of you strikes me as the martyr type."
Yennefer laughed, silvery and good-natured. "No, we don't plan to be martyrs. As much as an elegant statue would pay homage to our deeds, it's better to be alive to receive the acclaim directly. We have a contingency in place."
"Then why not share it with Geralt? With me?"
"It was none of Geralt's business. The less he knows, the more believable he'll be in front of the king. As for you, we took a vote."
"Let me guess, it wasn't in my favour."
"No, it was actually a tie and we decided to share more with you only once Geralt left. So take a seat and listen well, because your life might depend on it if you come with us."
As Yennefer spoke, Criss listened patiently without interrupting. Her brows furrowed at one point, but by the end, she felt like laughing. The sorceresses really were a match for the king in wit and insanity.
"So you see, there isn't much to concern yourself with in regards to Radovid. We have it well in hand."
"Indeed, but that still leaves me with a dilemma regarding the hospital."
"There's nothing I can do about that. We can't spare anyone to help," Yennefer said.
"I figured as much. Guess I'll have to decide where I want to be when the fighting starts."
Still thinking of how to reconcile her duties, she went to check on Avallac'h. She found him still in bed and Ciri lounging in an armchair with her feet up and a tome in her lap.
"I take it you've been feeling well?" she asked from the doorway.
"I am, thank you. I'd be calculating the next portal right now, but Zireael..." He stopped mid-sentence and cleared his throat. "I am taking one day off to recover upon Zireael's insistence."
"That's very well," she said, trying to smile. "Sounds like you'll be fine on your own." She turned to leave, thinking she should go down to the hospital and warn Von Gratz. Perhaps he could close it down for a day or two until the danger passes.
"Hey, wait!" Ciri called out for her. In a moment she was by her side clutching her arm.
Criss looked at her confused. "Is something the matter?"
"Um, actually... I wanted to thank you. Not just for this, for all the rest as well." She paused searching for the proper words. "You and Geralt... I said some shameful things that I'm not proud of. I want you to know that I'm sorry for that and for making him leave you behind. It wasn't my proudest day."
"Don't even worry about it. It's fine. Water under the bridge as they say." She squeezed Ciri's hand to reinforce her words.
"It's not fine," Ciri countered. "And you don't look fine. In fact, you look unhappy."
Criss smiled sadly. "Is it that obvious?" Ciri nodded in response and Criss scratched her nape. "It's nothing to do with you, really. Just some problems I unwittingly created and now I need to solve before people get killed because of me."
"That sounds familiar." Ciri snorted a laugh. "Come in, take a seat and tell me about it. Maybe we can figure something out together."
Criss was sure Yennefer and Geralt wouldn't have wanted Ciri to be a part of the coup against the king, so when she told her story, she left out everything concerning their plans and told her only what was relevant to her problems with Bedlam, ending with her idea to shut down the hospital. Avallac'h listened as attentively as Ciri and in the end, he was the first to speak.
"You cannot tell the doctor to close the hospital. If you do, you risk alerting Bedlam and the king by association."
"But what else am I to do?" she sighed. "I don't want anyone to get hurt because I didn't factor in all the consequences of my actions. I should be there to defend them, but I can't in good conscience abandon Geralt and the rest."
"How about I go and make sure the doctor and his patients are safe?" Ciri suggested. "I could go with a mild injury just to have an excuse to be there... A scraped knee or a cut..."
"I shall accompany you," Avallac'h offered. "Between the two of us, we'll make short work of a band of human thugs."
"You're not serious..." Criss looked from one to the other. "Geralt doesn't want Ciri involved and neither does Yen. And you just barely made it alive after last night."
"Precisely. I am in your debt, and I want to take this opportunity to repay you."
"And Geralt doesn't want me involved with Radovid," Ciri added. "This has nothing to do with the king. I'll just happen to be in the right place at the right time, defending poor, sick people."
Criss pursed her lips and frowned. "I don't know about this. If you get injured..."
"I won't."
"She won't," Avallac'h and Ciri spoke at the same time. "I'll make sure of it."
A/N: Sorry for the delay, but real life has been keeping me busy. Hope the length of the chapter compensates for it :) Hope you enjoyed this more plot-focused chapter. I'll try to update with a new chapter next week, but I won't make any promises. In the meantime, I'd be happy to hear from all you lovely readers... Likes, dislikes, predictions... All comments are welcome!
