Note: This wasn't supposed to be two parts but I simply can't find the time and concentration to work on that entire thing. I sincerely hope I can upload part two within a week because if I don't, I'll have to do it some time after my holidays (middle of August - because there is no way that I'm going to lug my notebook around when hiking in the mountains).
But I really need to finally install that flooring - because I'm an adult (technically) and I guess that's where my priorities should lie.
As always, she had been fashionably late. Her gaze wandered over the crowd of smartly dressed people who tried to stand out from one another but only achieved the opposite.
There were many, so many guests, and yet, she noticed him immediately. The familiar silver hair practically shone against the sea of brightly colored, expensive gowns and tunics, even now that it was dark and the lanterns and the crescent moon were the only sources of light.
She had been aware that he would be here – not here specifically but here in the area. She had not, however, expected to find him so close to the palace at an event this grand and dull. And yet, there was Geralt of Rivia, dressed in formal attire. While not a common occurrence, none of that was unusual.
She knew him well, maybe better than he knew himself. Therefore, even after having observed him for mere minutes, she realized that some profound change must have taken place since she last saw him. She could not quite put her finger on what it was so she started to dissect the situation: Firstly, the stoic witcher was not pulling a face as he stood there in clothing that, she was sure, he just itched to rip off. Secondly, he was making small talk. Inconceivably, he smiled while doing it. It was a pleasant smile even and not the tortured grin that he had often sported before. And thirdly, there was the woman. She looked rather bland, save for her dress whose airiness would not quite conform to the style that everybody else was wearing. Her skirt seemed to have been made of different layers of colored strips of fabric that moved hypnotizingly with every movement, with every breeze, giving it the illusion of a burning flame as the layers of yellow and orange and red intermingled.
But more interesting than that was the way Geralt let this strange woman fuss about him, continuously touching him. Quite unlike him, she thought. He smiled, he made conversation with everybody around him. It appeared he had lost the reclusiveness that had once surrounded him. How had that happened, she wondered?
But most of all – why did she even care? Yennefer of Vengerberg was a proud woman. Surely, she was not bemoaning the fact that she was not part of that group. Yennefer in fact disliked this public display of affection, it was unbecoming, undignified. And, even more relevant, hadn't she and the witcher proven to be perfectly incompatible?
If there was one thing to be said for certain then it was that whatever had changed Geralt of Rivia was none of her business.
She took a sip of her wine.
Reason. Always guided by reason. When she had accepted the Duchess' offer she had been aware that there was a miniscule chance she would run into him. An infinitesimal chance. She had not actually thought it possible. As a vintner Geralt was surely busy either rolling in the mud, picking grapes, fixing equipment or whatever one did when one became a vintner. Or he was busy rolling in the mud, picking herbs and such, fixing equipment and all the things one did when one was a witcher.
She watched as the woman in the curious dress left Geralt's side.
Yennefer had not seen or heard from Geralt ever since they had separated. How long ago had that been? 10, 15 years maybe? The only news she had received about him were either rumors or things that Ciri casually mentioned whenever she had visited her daughter.
She had never asked though. After decades of trying and failing, a clean cut had seemed to be the most feasible option.
Seeing that changed person now, she briefly wondered if she had made a mistake. The thought was fleeting however. She did not want him back, no. These feelings were gone, a distant past.
The woman, formerly at Geralt's side, had come up to the terrace that Yennefer found herself on. She grabbed a canapé and ate it leaning against the balustrade. She smiled as she watched the crowd.
Despite her blandness, she looked rather sweet, innocent even, Yennefer thought. Would it not be fair to give her a well-meant warning?
The sorceress was not entirely sure why exactly she decided to approach the stranger. After all, this was none of her business. But maybe it was because she had mellowed in recent years, that a small voice inside her head demanded from her to inform the other woman – warn her about what was to come. Warn her that she should not throw away years of her life like Yennefer once had, trying to make things work when it should have been obvious that they never would.
Or maybe she just wanted to spite Geralt a little. Who knew?
The woman did not seem to take notice as Yennefer approached, she was too busy watching the people, watching him.
"He is not going to stay, you know?" Yennefer said to get her attention.
At first the woman did not respond, only after a long moment did she turn around to face the sorceress.
"Pardon?" she asked, eyebrows knitted in confusion as she quickly glanced Yennefer over from top to bottom.
The sorceress nodded towards the terrace beneath them where Geralt was chatting still with a couple.
"Geralt. He is going to leave eventually. He is not made to stay put. He'll get bored or annoyed and then leave. I thought you should know that."
The other woman said nothing, just stared at her, furrowed brows indicating that she had difficulties understanding.
Yennefer continued: "If you are lucky, you will find a note on your pillow. Do yourself a favor, save yourself the heartbreak and just leave him instead."
The stranger shook her head. She opened her mouth to speak but apparently thought better of it as she closed it again. She turned her gaze back to Geralt, hands resting on the balustrade, fingers tapping against the carved stone.
Suddenly, she straightened up and faced the sorceress again, confusion replaced by skepticism.
"May I ask who you are that you feel like passing this kind of judgement?" she finally inquired, arms crossed defiantly in front of her chest.
"If you must."
"If you accuse my husband," she emphasized the word, "of leaving me, you better give me a good reason to believe you."
At the sound of the word Yennefer flinched ever so slightly.
"He is married?" Yennefer could not keep the incredulity out of her voice entirely. She had heard rumors about Geralt getting himself a wife but naturally, she had assumed these rumors to be as baseless as the ones about his demise that, so far very reliably, had always turned out to be untrue.
"One becomes a husband once one marries, that's generally how that works – unless I missed something and it has become some sort of honorary title."
Yennefer went quiet.
"May I ask how long you've been married?" The composure Yennefer usually prided herself on and that she demanded of others was at risk of simply disintegrating out of sheer curiosity and… something else. Hurt?
"You are asking an awful lot of questions considering you have yet to tell me who you are."
Yennefer smiled. At least she was not stupid.
"Yennefer of Vengerberg. I have known your husband for half a century. And I know him well."
The woman seemed to freeze for an instant and some sort of recognition appeared in her gaze. She hesitated before she answered: "That makes sense of course."
The look on her face had changed and was nothing short of contempt, a provocative shimmer flashed in her blue eyes. But suddenly her entire stance softened and she lowered her gaze. Her voice became gentle. "I have no doubt you used to know him, Yennefer. But people change. He did." She paused, examining the sorceress. There was something in the way she looked at her. Something the sorceress could not quite place. "And for your sake and what I know about you, I hope you did too." She pushed herself away from the balustrade. "I'd appreciate it if you could find it within yourself to stop bad-mouthing the kindest person I have ever met. He does not deserve whatever it is you are trying to do here."
And with that she left.
Pity, Yennefer realized. The woman was pitying her.
It rarely ever happened that someone managed to surprise the seasoned sorceress but surprised she was indeed.
As she watched the woman return to Geralt's side, she replayed the conversation in her head. And then she observed. She did not appear to be telling Geralt about her encounter as he at no point turned around to look for her. She only saw how he reached for her hand, kissed it and did not let go of it. He had never behaved like this with her.
Because I asked him not to, she reminded herself. For a brief moment she wondered if her wish to not show his affection for her in public had been misguided. Maybe there was something that she had missed because of her insistence on composure.
But then again, it did not matter, not really.
"That was fast," Geralt remarked as Kit returned to him. He grabbed her hand and placed a kiss on its back.
"Nothing much interesting to see tonight," she shrugged.
Geralt wondered about her sudden return. She usually enjoyed watching the people in their elaborate dresses and would spend at least an hour scrutinizing everybody she could see. He found it rather odd that she would return so quickly. But maybe the dress that the Marchioness de Renhart had been wearing, a poufy something with real, already wilting flowers sewn into it, had been the highlight of the day and nothing could compare to it. Apparently, a famous singer from Kit's world had at one point worn a dress made from uncooked meat. It would probably take a lot to surprise her.
Either way, he did not get to spend time with his wife for long. A young maid came running up to them, out of breath by the time she reached them.
"Lady Kit, please, you need to come, the dress won't fit!" There was fear in the maid's eyes.
"I swear we fitted her for the dress just a few days ago, her pregnancy can't possibly have advanced that quickly."
Geralt shrugged and faintly remembered Anna Henrietta's first pregnancy. He would have assumed that by now the Duchess must have had amassed enough dresses for every stage of her pregnancy but surely, he was wrong. He always was.
Kit was about to turn away from him, then hesitated and put her hands on his chest.
"Don't turn around but an old friend of yours has joined the party."
"Old friend?"
"Yennefer. She's on one of the terraces further up."
Geralt went quiet, lifted a hand to rest it on the back of her head, fingers combing through the wavy, soft hair.
"What does she want?" he finally asked as he studied Kit's face, trying to figure out how she felt about the situation. Yennefer was a difficult topic.
Kit shrugged.
"I don't know. Seeding hate? Maybe we'll find out… I just thought you might want to know. But I want no part in this." And with that she let go of him and returned to the waiting maid.
"And off we go!" Kit announced, her voice much perkier compared to a moment ago, as she put her arm around Annie's shoulders.
"Should we not walk faster?" the maid suggested.
"Oh Annie, you've got so much to learn still…" was the last thing Geralt heard before their voices were droned out by the crowd.
The temptation to look around and search for those violet eyes was strong. He had not heard from Yennefer in years. The few letters he had sent had remained unanswered. After that he had refrained from contacting her or asking friends about her. And then he had simply forgotten. The work at Corvo Bianco, those first, hard years had required his full attention. And even after, when things had started to run smoothly, he had found other things to occupy himself with until that former life of his had receded more and more into the shadows of his memory. Finally, the arrival of Kit had turned his life upside down and ever since he had been so content that he hardly ever found his thoughts wandering into the past.
He remembered the early days, the anxiousness he had seen on his wife's face whenever Yennefer was mentioned. Triss and Keira had done a lot for her in terms of making her less afraid of sorceresses in general but it had taken time, years even, before Kit had accepted that, despite all songs and poems, Geralt would never leave her side. Not for Yennefer, not for anyone. He suspected that if this little run-in had occurred five years ago, Kit would have looked for the next stone to crawl beneath and hide.
He wondered what the two women had talked about.
Geralt moved towards a wine stand to take a cup and emptied it in one draught. When he let his eyes wander, curiosity now stronger, he could not make out Yennefer's presence anywhere. For a moment he considered that Kit might have been mistaken or that someone had played a trick on her. But then he smelled it. A soft breeze carried the familiar fragrance of lilac and gooseberries towards him. For a moment he thought it must have been a fluke, his brain playing a trick on him. But then he turned around and saw her.
He set the empty cup aside, waited for what he considered an appropriate amount of time and then slowly walked towards her. Yennefer always wanted to be approached, she would never do so herself.
"Yennefer." He nodded at her, not quite sure how to act.
"You look good," she answered, her gaze travelling over his figure from head to toe and back.
"So do you." In fact, he thought, she had not changed one bit. She looked exactly like she used to, from her flawless skin, to her raven hair and those scrutinizing violet eyes. Black skirt, white blouse, obsidian star – very much the Yennefer he knew indeed.
"It has been a while, witcher, has it not?" she replied.
"At least a decade if I'm not mistaken."
"You are not," she agreed. "Congratulations by the way."
He raised an eyebrow. "On what?"
"I just met your wife. She is lovely. The way she defends you and your honor… What more can a man ask?"
"She does what she thinks is right," he answered, observing the cold shimmer in the sorceress' eyes.
"My, my, don't feel so attacked. I have merely come to deliver my belated wishes for your wellbeing and your marriage as I was not invited to the wedding."
"Hm." He gritted his teeth. He had no idea why he even bothered to defend his actions. "You never replied to any of the letters I sent you. Forgive me for thinking you had no interest in my life anymore." He was surprised by the sharpness in his voice.
"Oh Geralt, you know me." Her tone was jovial all of a sudden. "I was busy. And seeing how you are doing now, it seems a clean separation was the best course, don't you agree?"
"Don't regret it," he said before you could stop himself. A flicker of pain seemed to cross Yennefer's features for the briefest moment. He rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the tension that had built up.
"How are you doing anyway?" he asked in an effort to sound less on edge.
How could things possibly be this tense, he wondered. After all the time they had spent together it felt like he was trying to make small talk to a stranger.
She stepped closer.
"Please Geralt, enough with the nonsense." With a quick movement of her head, she threw her hair back. A still familiar motion, Geralt noticed. "I do just how I have always done. But you are a real vintner now - I haven't quite decided whether or not I find that more shocking than the fact that you settled down. It seems so unlike you."
He shrugged. "Is it? Never had a choice before - until I was given one."
She nodded. "That is indeed a good point. And yet I wonder, why are you here? You never liked these festivities."
"Could ask you the same," he replied.
"If you must know: A confidante of the Duchess has fertility issues and I will resolve that problem."
Geralt nodded. It was still all about children, he thought.
"My wife is the Duchess' seamstress. She needs to be here, and therefore I do too."
"She must be quite something if she can bring you to wear the appropriate attire for these events. Something you liked to deny me," she reminded him, the tone of her voice aloof.
"It's simple: She denies me nothing, I don't deny her anything." Geralt tried to hold the bitterness out of his voice as he remembered all the times he practically had to beg for her affection or for him to show her some. All the cheating when he was committing to her. But I caused this, he reminded himself. It was my wish that bound us. He sighed.
"I love her. I'll go wherever she goes. That's it. She's not like you, she doesn't have your powers. She needs me."
His confession seemed to placate Yennefer. Appealing to her vanity never seemed to lose its charm, he realized.
"I see. A mere mortal then?" Her expression seemed to soften ever so slightly as Geralt nodded in confirmation.
"Allow me one question: You will likely outlive her if something doesn't kill you before your time. Surely you have considered that your genetics will keep you alive much longer than her?"
He nodded. The thought had passed him by repeatedly but he had paid it no mind. It had taken a long while for him to truly believe that she wanted to stay with him until the end.
"I'm sure something will get me long before she dies." This was only part of the truth. With her healing abilities Geralt was sure that Kit had quite a while to live still, likely beyond the span of the average human. Though, how much he did not know. The fact that she had been raised in a world where medical knowledge and treatments were abundant probably had not hurt either and had allowed her to take care of herself in ways the people here could not. She looked much younger than she was, he had often thought. She was 40 now but she had never looked older than a woman in her mid-20s to him. People who did not know them had frequently mistaken her for his daughter even, something she had always chalked up to her proper use of sunscreen in her former life.
And all of that was despite the fact that apparently he himself had started to look younger - at least if the frequent comments of others were to be believed.
He had never talked to Kit about his suspicions. Things were just perfect at the moment and he had no intentions of ruining their peace with talks about mortality.
Yennefer chuckled. "I have never known you to be an optimist."
He shrugged and briefly looked up at the cloudless sky. "Had you asked me 10 years ago if I thought that this would be my life, I would have laughed." He looked at her. "I'm happy and I hope you are too. I'm sorry for all the pain my wish caused."
Yennefer lowered her gaze. "You needn't worry about me. And don't fear either, I do not harbor any ill wishes. After all, not everything was bad."
The tension between them noticeably lifted.
"Is there a chance that, in the future, I might receive an answer to my letters then?" he asked cautiously.
Yennefer chuckled again but this time it seemed genuine. "That depends on whether or not you can forgive me for trying to warn your wife of you and encouraging her to leave you."
"You did what?"
Yennefer never managed to explain the confusion she had caused earlier on as Kit suddenly reappeared next to them.
"It's insane. She actually has gained so much that we had to change to a dress that was not supposed to be used until next month," Kit groaned. "I'll have to prepare some extra dresses now," she complained as she hugged Geralt's arm and intertwined her hand with his.
It was then that Geralt realized that something was wrong. The hairs in his neck bristled and it took him several moments to figure out why that was. But when he did, dread washed over him so forcefully that he felt like he was drowning in it.
He forced himself to pull Kit into a hug, looked at Yennefer and mouthed: read my thoughts. Then, as if nothing was wrong, he continued: "Sure you will manage. You always do," and placed a kiss on top of Kit's head but looked straight at Yennefer.
Yennefer was taken aback - she would not even have needed Geralt's non-vocal command, his thoughts were practically screaming at her.
This is not my wife. I don't know who or what this is but it's not her.
Yennefer tried to make sense of his thoughts. The woman in his arms looked just like the one she had met a little while ago.
"Kit, this is Yennefer," Geralt continued in order to maintain the illusion of normalcy.
"Oh, you!" answered Kit, visibly not amused.
Yennefer cleared her throat, not quite sure how to handle the situation.
"I owe you an apology."
We need to get out of here - with her. I can't threaten whoever this is in public, people will be thinking I'm attacking my wife, Geralt thought.
My, what a loud thinker he could be, Yennefer noted to herself. Apparently, it made quite the difference if you were spending time in someone's head with their explicit permission.
"That's one way to put it," Kit mumbled, her arms crossed, unaware of the conversation that was running in parallel.
Yennefer ignored her rude tone as she suggested: "Why don't we go somewhere quieter to talk? It is unseemly to have these private conversations in public."
Kit just shrugged. Geralt grabbed her hand and led them away from the party into a deserted corner of the sprawling gardens.
When they were out of earshot Yennefer asked: "How did you know? I cannot sense anything."
"Sense what?" Kit wondered.
Faster than she or Yennefer could comprehend, Geralt had drawn a silver dagger from his boot - he always carried one when he was without his swords.
Kit wailed when he held the flat side of the blade to her throat.
"Geralt, what are you doing? I don't understand!"
There was fear in her eyes and it nearly broke him. She had never been afraid of him but that look on her face was his worst nightmare. So many times he had dreamed, feared that she would suddenly see in him what others saw – a mutated monster. This was his nightmare, it had become reality.
It's not her, he reminded himself. She's not afraid of you. She never would be.
"I don't understand either," Yennefer added calmly. "How could you tell that this one was a doppler?"
After the silver of the blade had made contact with the skin of the being that pretended to be Kit, its skin had started to change: smooth, rosy pale skin slowly morphed into something doughy, the color indistinct in the dim moonlight.
Geralt grabbed the now squirming doppler tighter, whose begging and pleading voice moved further and further away from the way Kit sounded.
"She has a special ability that the doppler failed to replicate." He looked at Yennefer, the writhing creature still held in an iron grasp.
"That is impossible. Dopplers have been known to be able to replicate anything – from looks, to thoughts, to behavior. You must be mistaken."
"This is a special case. She's been given powers by… some higher entity. You can always tell just by touching her."
"What powers would that be? I sensed no magic. You even told me she was not a sorceress."
"She's not. She channels energy from another world. It feels different to every person but it is always there. She has a limited degree of control over it and shutting it off takes a lot of effort and concentration, so she never does it."
"Is it an immediate reaction?" Yennefer asked, now entirely the curious sorceress again.
Geralt nodded. "I noticed when she… it took my hand."
"Please, please, let go of me, I can explain," the doppler cried. The contact with the silver had begun to affect the skin in its face which slowly reverted back to its original form. One of Kit's blue eyes started to turn yellow.
"Yennefer?"
The sorceress nodded. The moment he let go of the creature, flying ropes appeared from the fingertips of the sorceress' hands and wrapped themselves around the doppler like hungry snakes.
"Please, please," the creature begged again, tears streaming down its borrowed face.
It had taken on Kit's voice again and sounded so pitiful that it nearly broke Geralt's heart. Dopplers were kindhearted creatures and the witcher took no joy in hurting this one, especially since its interpretation of his beloved Kit was perfect and unfortunately all too convincing.
If this doppler is here, it means Kit is not. She is likely in danger, I need to find her. He repeated the thought over and over again, trying to not get drawn in by the doppler's very convincing performance.
He gathered himself.
"Where is my wife?" he snarled, surprised that he managed to make his voice sound so menacing.
The creature shook. "He needs her help. He won't harm her, I promise."
"Who are you talking about?" Yennefer, who had no particular attachment to the usually friendly nature of dopplers nor to Kit, raised the creature from the ground with a flick of her wrist and turned it upside down.
The doppler wailed again. "Antony Desroubins!" it cried.
Yennefer looked at Geralt.
"Are you familiar with that name?"
"Never heard of him." Geralt directed his gaze back at the doppler: "Where is he? Where can I find her?"
"Please, don't… He's… Please…," the doppler begged. "Don't hurt him. He's not right, he's…"
"I don't care what he is. I care about my wife and her whereabouts!" he barked. "Where is she?"
The doppler stopped fighting the ropes.
"I'll show you where he lives. I'll show you…"
Yennefer looked at Geralt who nodded and then let their prisoner drop to the ground carefully.
"I'll free you now. But if you attempt to run, I guarantee it is the last thing you will ever do," Yennefer warned. The doppler nodded not daring to make a sound.
As the ropes that had bound the creature dissolved into smoke, it carefully sat itself up.
"Will you voluntarily tell us what is going on or do we have to make you talk?"
The doppler nodded with Kit's sad face. Geralt could hardly bear it.
"I owed him a favor. He asked me to impersonate her. I had never met her before, I have no qualms with her." The doppler sniffed. "I was to impersonate her so you wouldn't notice her disappearance immediately. He needs her help."
"And why would he not just have asked for it? Making dresses is hardly a matter of life and death," Yennefer interrupted, arms folded in front of her chest, glaring coldly.
Geralt silently thanked Yennefer for leading the interrogation. An usual feeling had taken possession of him that prevented him from focusing. Neither his genetics nor his training would allow him to fear for his life – panic to him had been just a word, nothing more. But it was not his life that he was fearing for and all of a sudden panic was evolving into something more than a theoretical concept.
The doppler looked up to Yennefer, timidly. "It's not about a dress. He needed the help of a sorceress who is a skilled healer. And he thinks she can help him."
"A sorceress?" Yennefer glanced at Geralt. "Didn't you just tell me that she is just a human?"
Geralt nodded. "She is. The powers she can channel that I told you about? She can use them to heal."
He breathed in anticipation of what he was going to do. It went against all of his instincts but maybe it was better if Yennefer was fully informed of the situation. He thought about the first time she had consciously healed him after a fight, how her fingers lightly caressed the injured areas, how a wonderful warmth spread through him whenever she did it. How complicated things were back then – and how easy at the same time. For a moment his thoughts wandered to her world, how they had sat on the couch to watch TV, his first ride in a car and the strange stores and buildings she had shown him. I'd live in her world forever if I could just get her back, he thought before pulling himself back to reality. He had shown much more to Yennefer than he had intended but it did not matter.
She looked at him puzzled. It would probably take her a moment to really grasp that Kit was not only in possession of an odd skill but that she came from somewhere far away in space and time.
"Not sure how this man would know of her powers. None of the people here should know about it." Geralt hissed. He who knew about the true nature of the people in this world had always seen the danger, had always urged her to be careful. What had gone wrong?
"But it appears they do anyway." Yennefer turned to look at the pitiful creature again who was crouching on the floor, shaking, not daring to look up. "Do you know anything about this?"
The doppler froze when it was addressed. "No… I don't know anything. I just did as I was told. He said nobody would be harmed."
"Still, why not simply ask for help?"
The impostor shrugged. "He is an odd man, currently not open to suggestions. You'll see." The creature looked at Geralt. "But I understand to some degree. Sorceresses after all are not known to help people in need. Maybe that's why he thought he had to force her."
Geralt growled. Partially because he was annoyed and reaching the end of his patience. But also because he found the thought that Kit would not immediately offer her help when asked fairly insulting on her behalf.
"Let's go. We need to find her."
The shaken doppler struggled to get up onto its feet.
"Where to?" Yennefer asked.
"Lebioda's Gate," the doppler answered after short consideration. "I don't know where exactly he lives but it must be somewhere around there."
"Yennefer, can you manage on your own for a while? I'd rather not face this man without a sword."
"I am not quite sure at which point I have agreed to help-"
"Yennefer…"
She rolled her eyes and blew a strand of hair out of her face. "Fine," she finally agreed. "For old time's sake." But mostly, she thought to herself, to learn more about that strange woman. Despite her initial blandness, she did seem to be an interesting subject. Whether or not she could be of use to the sorceress Yennefer would have to wait to find out.
"Thank you." Geralt turned to leave. "Go ahead, I'll find you."
When Geralt had left, Yennefer turned to the doppler.
"Just to be clear, I do not like to repeat myself but I will now: If you try to run away from me, it'll be the last thing you've ever done. I might not get you, but he-" she nodded in the direction that Geralt had run off to, "will."
"I meant no harm, I swear it."
"The way to hell is paved with good intentions. Now walk and we shall have a conversation about what transpired here."
For a moment Yennefer wondered why she was taking part in this entire ordeal but quickly came to realize that the situation felt just so refreshingly… familiar.
"For old time's sake," she muttered and realized that she actually meant it.
No guard bothered them as they left the palace grounds and crossed the bridge to the city. It was late at night and Yennefer was not surprised to find the streets empty. This was, after all, not Novigrad, not an important capital but idyllic Beauclair, the city of fairytales. And fairytales did not happen at night.
An empty cart, loaded with sacks that smelled like they contained rotting garbage, was the only sign of civilization they encountered for a while.
"Who is the man you work for?" Yennefer asked after a while.
"I don't work for him, I'm just…"
"Call it what you like. Who is this man?"
"Antony Desroubin came here with his wife about a year ago. He's a blacksmith, a good one I've heard."
"And whenever he is bored he abducts people?" Yennefer snorted.
The doppler shook its head.
"I've met him a few times at the market. I have a small stand where I sell butter and milk. He came by every week, seemed sweet and gentle. Early on there was an incident – some man, some drunk I had never met before, claimed I had sold him bad milk. He berated me, people watched while he shouted at me, destroyed my booth. And nobody did anything to stop him. Except Antony. I barely knew him at this point but he made sure the man ran off." The doppler paused. "He must be around 50, his hair is starting to grey but other than that you wouldn't notice. His back is still straight and his arms are strong…"
"Good looking man then?"
The doppler nodded, a faint blush, hardly visible, spread over its face.
"He came by every day after that to make sure everything was fine. He was very caring and attentive. But after a while he… I noticed that something was different. At first, he just seemed sad. And then… broken. He looked broken. He used to look like he could lift a cart full of milk jugs. And now he's frail, looks like even a straw could break his back."
The doppler paused again. The sound of their boots on the cobblestone reverberated in the alley. Only a few people were still roaming the streets, most of them guards.
"I don't see how any of that would lead to him trying to steal the wife of a witcher," Yennefer prompted her prisoner.
"He's not right in the head anymore," the doppler finally continued. "I don't know what happened but for a few months now, whenever I saw him there seemed to be less of him. He seemed to shrink right in front of my eyes and acted weirder and weirder whenever he came by. Talking to himself, something like that. In the end he didn't even react when I talked to him, he seemed completely out of it. And then… He didn't come by anymore. That is until recently. He begged for my help and I couldn't deny him, he was so pitiful." The doppler breathed audibly. "He asked me to impersonate the Lady Kit. He didn't tell me why, said the less I knew the better. So I agreed. I felt like I owed him. He said he only needed her for a short while and I didn't think anything bad would come out of it."
"How did he know you were a doppler in the first place? Is it not vital to keep this a secret?"
The doppler nodded.
"It is. Whenever my day at the market was over, I would hide somewhere and change into someone else so nobody would ever follow me home. When I sell my milk, I take the shape of a young woman who I saw die a few years ago in a town far away. But when I go home I change into an unassuming old man. Nobody cares about old men. Ever since I was little, I have been told to cover my traces as best as I can. But Antony saw me, quite early on. I didn't know it but back then but he was trying to make sure I would get home safely. I thought I was done for when he discovered my secret but he promised he'd never tell. He seems to have held his word." The doppler sighed. "Do you understand now why I had to help him?"
Yennefer bit her tongue to hold back a few choice words that came to mind. Instead she summarized: "We are dealing with a crazy blacksmith who had something happen to him, though what we do not know. And now he is rather insane and has apparently lost all interest in life as he must have realized that kidnapping the wife of a witcher is a quick way to end one's existence."
The doppler only shrugged.
"He is not a bad person, quite the opposite. I'm certain there is a good reason for why he acts this way. Or maybe there is not because he really is crazy. Either way, please don't hurt him."
"That is not for me to decide. But I suggest you start worrying about your own wellbeing."
The doppler shook its head. "I don't care about me, just…"
Yennefer raised an eyebrow in surprise.
"You are in love with him," she concluded.
The doppler stared at the ground, nodding hesitantly.
Even at night, Yennefer thought, Beauclair looked pretty. In other cities one would find all sorts of drunks and rotten garbage in the streets, heaps of shit and who knows what else. But the neat cobblestone below their feat was spotless. Save for some leftovers of what must have been some sort of garland, strips of something yellow or red, scattered on the path occasionally, the place was as tidy as you would expect from a city that lived on its reputation of being out of a fairytale. No leaves on the ground, no rats that squeaked out of dark corners. She wondered briefly if Beauclair even qualified as a city when it lacked all the known markers.
After they had walked in silence for a few minutes, the doppler spoke again.
"I've been alone all my life. Tried to fight for myself but no matter what I did, as soon as anyone found out they chased me off or tried to kill me. Any friend or relation I ever had."
Yennefer did not see the tears but she heard the sniffing. She rolled her eyes, annoyed.
"He's the only person who was ever kind to me - for no reason. And he did not stop even after he learned what I was."
"You said he is married?"
The doppler nodded. "I never expected him to reciprocate, never bothered him and his family, never followed him home." Kit's teary eyes looked up to Yennefer. "Just knowing he is well is enough."
"I didn't think that Dopplers were able to fall in love with our kind."
"We do. All the time. But they never love us back. That or it stops once they find out." The doppler sniffed. "It's not that I wouldn't prefer being amongst my own but… There aren't many of us left. Finding one is like finding a needle in a haystack. Blending in is what we do and we'd be foolish to reveal ourselves easily. The few of us there are, are hard to find."
"No family I suppose?"
The creature shook its head.
"Not anymore."
Soon the doppler stopped. The city wall that separated the houses of the living from the eternal resting places of the dead was in sight.
"It must be around here somewhere. I'm afraid I can't be of any further help." There was a tinge of regret in its voice.
Yennefer looked around. There was no indication as to where they had disappeared. Violet eyes examined the nearly spotless streets. Nothing.
"We shall wait for Geralt then," Yennefer decided.
They did not have to wait long. For a man his size, Yennefer thought as she saw him run towards them finally, he was quiet. His eyes looked even more like those of a cat in the half-light of the night as he stepped out of the shadows of the alley they had come through.
For a moment his expression changed, darkened, as he glanced at the doppler who still looked like Kit.
"You found us quickly," the doppler marveled. Geralt merely hummed in response. He had, as Yennefer guessed, simply followed the smell of her perfume. He had managed to find her, back in the day, over bigger distances in much livelier environments.
"It appears we are stuck. This is as far as our friend was able to lead us," Yennefer explained, arms once again crossed in front of her chest.
Impatience, Geralt realized.
The witcher did what Yennefer had done and looked around.
"What's this?" he wondered, walked to the left and picked something up from the ground.
Yennefer shrugged as he held it up.
"I've seen these all over the place. Maybe the leftovers of some sort of decoration? As far as I remember people here busy themselves making up occasions for one festivity or another every other day."
Geralt unraveled what turned out to be a strip of fabric and frowned. He held the strip towards the doppler who immediately stepped back, obviously afraid.
"It's a piece of her dress." Yennefer ran a hand through her curls as the realization struck her when she saw how the strip matched the many similar strips on the skirt of the doppler's dress and those she had frequently seen in the otherwise spotless streets. "She has been leaving a trace by ripping pieces from her skirt." Yennefer nodded appreciatively. "We've been following it the entire time without noticing. Not bad. Not bad at all."
"A smelly trace." Geralt wrinkled his nose in disgust as he sniffed the piece of fabric.
"There," the doppler cried out, pointing at a corner. With his superior eyesight Geralt picked up on it, this one yellow, immediately.
He nodded and the women followed him.
It was not long before the trace of fabric ended but Geralt did not stop. The smell had gotten strong enough for him to identify the building where Kit must have been held. He had passed through this area countless times. An unassuming place on a corner, a heavy wooden door with ornate carvings. Charming, just like it ought to be.
He drew his sword, the sound of metal moving against the leather scabbard calming his nerves, as he put one hand on the door handle. Tightening his grip, he was ready to smash in the door with his shoulder but was surprised to find it unlocked.
"Please," the doppler pleaded again. "Don't hurt him."
"I'll see about that," he spat and went in.
While Yennefer would have preferred to wait outside – after all she had no business with the abducted woman – she sighed once the doppler followed close after Geralt and then went in herself.