-7-

Geralt signaled Kit to stay behind him while he walked carefully, not making a single sound on his naked feet.

There was an old well that he examined first. He dropped a stone into it. A moment passed and the stone broke through the surface of the water with an audible splash. A working well was definitely not a scorpion-friendly environment.

Two of the former village's houses had completely collapsed – as far as he could tell from the charred wood they must have burned out. A third house was empty, every single thing in it had either been taken by its former owners when they had moved away, or picked up by vagabonds and others. There was another house on the outskirts of the village. The roof had partially caved in, and judging from its overgrown state, this had not happened recently. The door hung ajar, its hinges squeaking ever so slightly as it moved in the wind.

Geralt was surprised to find the house not quite so empty. There was a cooking pot on the stove with the spoon still in it. The stove itself was still full of ashes, even though nothing indicated that it had been used recently. Next to it was a thin, worn mattress with a few furs and a thick but tattered cloak. Someone had lived here in recent months or weeks, it was hard to tell.

As he continued to inspect the interior, Geralt suddenly noticed a trap door – it must have been at least partially covered by the collapsed roof at first, but it was obvious that someone had cleared away the debris to open it. Geralt carefully examined the door and finally reached for the rusted pull ring to open it so that he could glance into the basement from a safe distance. The space underneath was the kind of subspace that could be found in many houses in Toussaint. During the summer, people stored their food underground to prevent it from spoiling in the heat. The space was not large, it was barely high enough for someone slightly smaller than him to stand upright. Still, someone had bothered to built a few brick steps into the wall – probably to make it easier to lift heavy things up into the living area.

He had already chalked the basement up as unimportant when he heard the characteristic sound of clicking pincers again. Even to his eyes it was hard to tell, but something was lurking down there in the darkness. He stepped back.

"Out," he shouted. "Now!" He shoved Kit out the door while he drew his sword and walked backwards, never taking his eyes off the trapdoor.

Just a moment later, a black leg felt its way up to the surface – quickly followed by seven more.

"Holy shit," Kit said. "Will it never end?"

Geralt agreed silently. It should not have come as a surprise that the subterranean resident turned out to be yet another scorpion – but this one was huge, about the size of a small horse. This was not normal, this was far from normal.

Its tail curled menacingly above its head, and its stinger seemed to follow Geralt's gaze.

The creature hissed at him, snapping at him with its pincers.

"Get away from here," he barked at Kit.

"But…"

"Go, now!"

Kit nodded and scurried away.

The scorpion hissed and reared up when it stalked through the open door. Geralt tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword and was suddenly overcome by a strong sense of deja-vu. But there was no time to process it.

He had expected his opponent to move fast, but somehow it seemed to be rather sluggish.

Only when the scorpion exited the house and entered the light of day, Geralt noticed the many smaller scorpions clinging to it. Their carapaces were still white and even smaller than the smallest one of their previous attackers. They looked like strange white dots on their mother's body.

That was why she moved so slowly – she was probably at the end of her life cycle after having laid thousands of eggs, Geralt realized.

But he was not taking any risks. He set the scorpion and her brood on fire and decapitated her with one smooth stroke of his sword before she could even attempt to try anything.

"How's that for a find?" he called to Kit, who quickly left her hiding place behind a tree.

"Are you hurt? Are you okay?" She asked frantically, examining him.

"I'm fine."

Kit nodded and then looked at the mess in front of her.

"Pretty disgusting." She tilted her head and stared with disgust at the smoldering remains. "But that doesn't help us-" She stopped right in the middle of her sentence, her eyebrows knitted together.

"This is it!" she exclaimed suddenly. "How could I have forgotten!"

"Forgotten what?"

"The morning you woke up with no memory? Eskel came to get me – I had fallen asleep in the atelier because of the," she waived her arms around her waist, "sparkle dress. He woke me up and we went to see you. And right outside the walls of Corvo Bianco there was this – I mean not this, but another one of its kind – its head on a stake. None of us knew who had put it there, we assumed it was you because you do that sometimes. But someone must have removed it – like always – seriously, stop doing that, you're scaring the children! But someone disposed of it and I just forgot about it." Kit was talking so fast that her sentences began to sound like one very long word. She waived her arms excitedly. "You were here the night before you lost your memory. So whatever happened to you, it probably happened here, because you killed its… I don't know, creepy crawly cousin or whatever!"

"Mate, more likely."

"Whatever. But we know now that you were here that night." In all her excitement, her cheeks had begun to flush. It made for a pretty contrast to her big blue eyes, Geralt thought. The way her mood changed from fear to excitement was something else.

Geralt nodded.

"I had a feeling I had seen this thing before."

"Huh." She thought for a moment. "Is the house safe?" She nodded at the building with the half-caved in roof.

"Probably should check the basement for other tenants."

They both went back inside. Geralt turned a tree branch into a torch before he went down the stairs. He found some smaller scorpions and unceremoniously squashed them. But there was more, something else. Or rather someone else.

"A body," he called up to Kit.

Kit joined him.

"Not from here," she declared after a quick look at the body.

"How do you know?" There was no way to tell from its features – the body had been rotting for some time, maybe a few weeks, maybe months. It had mummified rather than decomposed, the remaining skin was grey and flaky.

"There is this fabric merchant – he comes to Toussaint exactly once a year. I recognize the patterns. Guess where he comes from?"

Geralt looked at the person's clothes. From the shine of it, much of it was silk with embellishments from fine gold threat. The overall scheme was rather colorful, even if the fabric was torn and dirty, and not very suitable for the current climate.

He shrugged.

"Zerrikania?"

"That's what I think," Kit confirmed his suspicion.

"Someone came here all the way from Zerrikana with a bunch of scorpions. Why?"

Kit shrugged.

"I suppose they would have survived winter in the basement, don't you think? And then they got hungry and ate him."

Geralt shook his head.

"No, look closely. Not one bite was taken out of him." As far as Geralt could tell, there were no scratches or other claw marks on the body. Maybe mice had managed to nibble a bit, but he thought it unlikely. Surely any mouse that got in here would have been eaten by the growing scorpion population. He assumed that the scorpions had been breeding in here for months.

Still, things did not make much sense.

"Hold this," he said as he handed the torch to Kit. He started to pat down the body, but found nothing in its pockets.

"Wonder why the scorpions didn't eat him."

They returned to the surface. Kit looked around, searching for clues. But there were few places where anything could have been hidden at all.

She examined the stove. With a creaking sound she opened the grate behind which the ashes had piled up. She used the now extinguished torch to dig through them. Finally, she pulled out a few pieces of paper.

"Burned something. But there's not much left." She picked up bits and pieces of charred paper that were not completely blackened, but they could not make sense from the few snippets they managed to recover.

Geralt lifted up the mattress and the furs with no result. Only when he grabbed the worn cloak, a notebook fell out.

"Look what we got here." He picked it up from the floor and flipped through the pages. The first few pages were unreadable; some liquid had been spilled on them. Once he reached some pages that had remained intact, he recognized the tight, neat handwriting of a woman.

Geralt read some excerpts aloud:

"… I cannot undo what happened. They all hate me for it, but It was an accident and I'm sorry for it. I don't want to leave. I have spent the best years of my life here. The worst part is: I thought people liked me, but even though they all agree it was an accident, they don't talk to me anymore.

The truth is: They liked my husband and merely tolerated me. And now that he's gone and it's my fault, they act like I don't exist. I wish they would just give me another chance, maybe learn to like me for myself."

"Last night I had a dream. They had all but forgotten about me and greeted me as they would any stranger, and eventually we became friendly and things returned to the way they used to be.

What wouldn't I give for a new beginning?"

"The most interesting thing happened today. Some mages from the south came through our town. I quickly found myself in their company – they didn't know me, after all, so they had no reason to dislike and avoid me like the others did.

After a few bottles, I learned of their peculiar mission: The owner of some mines in a faraway place (they wouldn't tell me where, but all signs point to Mahakam) had commissioned them to create something special for him: The ultimate protection against intruders. They brought a cage full of scorpions with them. The animals were bread with magic – their sting is not poisonous, but will imbibe a person with a spell: If anyone unauthorized were to try and enter the mines and was stung, they would lose all interest, forget why they even came there in the first place and leave promptly. What a stroke of genius! The creatures are small, hard to notice, and the intruders wouldn't even know what happened to them. There would be no corpses to draw any attention, nor would they be interested in telling anyone what had happened, thus preventing others from learning of that particular mine and leading them there.

Now, what if I could breed them too? Send them into their houses at night and make them forget the past few years, what I did and why they despise me. And comes morning I will enter the town and act as if I had never been here before.

Finally, I have hope again.

One of the mages seems especially friendly. I will invite him tonight and see if enough alcohol will help me to get a mating pair of those scorpions."

"My research is going splendidly. Abeba has given birth to yet a new generation a few weeks ago. I accidentally got stung and couldn't remember the past week for half a day. I'm confident that if I tweak the magic and breed them right, I can get my spell to where I want it to be. I should also wear gloves. If anything happens and I forget myself, even if only for a little while, the others might notice what I'm trying to do. This cannot happen under any circumstances. Perhaps it would be wise to relocate for the time being and only return once I'm finished.

I think I will begin to breed new generations independently of Abeba and her mate Manak – the charm has now manifested itself in my breeding pair to such an extent that it seems all of their offspring carry enough magic to have the strongest of them mate."

At this point about half a book's worth of pages had been torn out. Geralt ran a gloved finger over the remains of the missing pages before he continued reading.

"I miss the dessert, I miss Zerrikania. This time, I'm living all alone in this abandoned village where no one ever comes close. It is lonely, but I know what I'm doing it for. And last time I was found out too quickly, so solitude is my best friend.

I tested my progress once again on an elderly man half a day's ride from here. So far, no one has been alarmed by any old person suddenly becoming confused or forgetful. My latest subject seemed to have forgotten nine or ten months. That is not enough. So much time has passed. It will take almost four years for the people back home to forget what happened.

Abeba and Manak continue to grow with the help of my magic. If I am ever discovered, they will protect me. They are more loyal than dogs."

"The new generations are getting stronger, we are almost there. I was stung again while handling my latest test subject. I seem to be partially immune to the stings. While they do affect me, the consequences aren't anywhere as drastic as they are for other people. I assume it's because I've been stung a lot over the years. There are many gaps in my memory though. If it weren't for my notes, I wouldn't know how far I have come. The last two years are particularly patchy. But I cannot give up now."

"It seems that my memory is getting worse all the time. Maybe I'm not as immune as I thought? I keep forgetting to close the trapdoor. The young ones tried to escape – I caught them just in time, but kept getting stung a lot because I forgot where I had put the gloves. It's getting harder and harder to keep everything under control. Abeba and Manak are not doing well. They are old and it is too cold for them outside so they have to spend all their time downstairs. I can tell they don't like it. They have also started mating again which will deplete their life force even faster. I worry about them."

The entries became shorter and more incoherent. Sometimes there were only single words or fragments of a sentence.

"I still remember my husband, but don't know if I ever really loved him. I think I never did. Never shed a tear for him, even though he died because of my clumsiness. They all adored him, though."

"Maybe it is I who should forget - not them."

"That was the last entry," Geralt noticed. He handed the notebook to Kit. Her gaze darted from page to page.

"So our culprit is a zerrikanian mage who happened to run into a group of other mages who gave her a pair of magical scorpions that she wanted to imbue with a spell that would make anyone who was stung forget a certain period of time. She experimented in hiding for fear of being found out and in the end chose to settle here. I bet she relocated many times before she ended up here." Kit tipped her index finger to her lips as she lost herself in her thoughts. "Do you think she simply forgot herself in the end?"

Geralt thought of the body underneath them.

"She doesn't seem to have died from any external cause. Maybe she simply forgot to eat or drink."

Kit nodded.

"Considering that your interaction made you forget 20 years in one night, getting a dose of her own magic repeatedly over the years could have made her forget just about everything. Maybe she didn't even notice.

Geralt shrugged.

"Suppose I'm lucky that it isn't me down there."

Kit shook her head.

"Right. For a moment I actually forgot why we came here. But of course, this is what must have happened to you. You came here looking for signs of the noon wraith and met the creepy crawlies instead."

"20 years though. Either she improved the spell very quickly or I was stung by more than one scorpion and the effect added up. Wonder what she'd think if she knew she greatly surpassed her target of just a few years."

"If she hadn't already, I think she would have given up. I don't really understand what happened to her, but I know that she was lonely and desperate."

"Feeling bad for her, huh?"

"Kind of. Being attached to certain people – I get that."

"So you think what she did was right?"

Kit shook her head.

"Of course not. Just… desperate. But now that I think about it, having the option of forgetting what life with you is like, if something ever happened to you, might be something that I'd choose. Because I cannot imagine that anything could compare to the life that we had."

Had, past tense. So she did not think that things would return to normal.

Kit turned away from him, holding onto her upper arms as if she was hugging herself.

"Would you also want to forget if all you could have is that current version of me?"

"What? No, of course not."

"Because any version of me is sufficient?" He did not want to be like this, to disregard her grief for selfish reasons. But he wanted to be the one she wanted. Just as he was. He had never been particularly wanted by anyone, but somehow this other version of him had won her over. He wanted to know what it felt like to be loved, to be adored.

She looked at him guiltily.

"I'm really sorry I said that. You are more than enough. I just hope that one day you'll look at me the way you used to. Other than that," she began and took of his boots, "you really aren't any different." She held out the boots to him.

"I want to live this life. With you," Geralt said as he reached for his shoes. "But I can only do that if you really, truly want me here, if I'm enough and not just a consolation prize."

Kit's eyes widened as she stared at him incredulously. Then she dropped his boots and cupped his face, looking him right into the eyes

"No version of you could ever be a consolation prize. Ever. I mean that."

She looked so sincere that Geralt found it difficult to doubt her. He dropped his boots to the floor and put his hands on her hips.

"I'm open to making new memories. We could start right away. Leave for a little adventure," he suggested.

She smiled as she ran her thumbs over his cheek and looked him into the eyes, before she got on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck. She held him tightly, unwilling to let him go. And Geralt decided that this would suffice to start over.

"I'd love that. But first we should go home." She stepped away from him and held out her hand, waiting for him to take it.

"Not very spontaneous, are we?" he teased as he took her hand.

"Do you remember that first night when I asked you to pretend that everything was alright so that no one could take advantage of the situation?"

He nodded.

"I lied. No one would ever dare. I only asked you to act normal so the others wouldn't notice. You have so many people working for you, so many people depending on you. I didn't want them to worry." He knew so little about her but that was something that made a lot of sense.

"And you didn't tell me because?"

"I wasn't sure if that kind of responsibility would drive you away before we could even try to find out what happened."

Geralt said nothing. He did not like to be lied to – but his actions had proven without a doubt that Kit's worries were absolutely justified. He would not be comfortable with her knowing him so well for a while, but resolved not to let it get to him. Instead, he decided to take a little risk: He was not entirely sure just how accurate the thought was that had just come to his mind. But he wanted to give her a little something, a little hope.

"We should bury her." Geralt nodded towards the house that still hosted a corpse in its basement. "And burn the book, so no one gets any ideas from it," he suggested. "And after that we'll go to the Cockatrice Inn, get you some of your favorite fried potatoes."

"That sounds nice," Kit smiled. Then, when she truly realized what he had just said, her expression changed. "Wait, how do you know that?"

"You once told me, and I quote: "These are the best damn potatoes I have ever had." He tried not to grin as he watched her slowly realize that he did remember something after all. He had no idea what it was about magic and scorpions and corpses that had triggered this particular memory, but he was glad that it turned out to be a memory and was not a figment of his imagination.

When he saw Kit smile, he decided that this lifehad the potential to be good, to be exceptionally good.

The curtains had not been closed properly and a sliver of light shone right into Geralt's face. He squinted his eyes and rolled to the side, away from the approaching morning. Kit lay halfway on her stomach, her naked backside facing him. She was still sleeping, her back rising and falling with every breath. Geralt watched for a moment and then began to draw a line up and down the curve of her spine. Her skin felt warm and smooth under his fingertips. He scooched further away from the intrusive sunlight that seemed intent on setting his pillow on fire, closer to Kit, giving in to his desire to feel as much of her against his naked body as possible. Careful not to wake her, he slid one arm under her pillow and moved closer to press his body against hers. He draped his free arm around her waist and pushed one leg between hers. He remembered that there had been many mornings like this. And this time it was not a feeling, but a real memory. Many memories, in fact. He smiled at the thought of all those mornings yet to come. It felt strange that he should have ever forgotten this. Even without remembering his entire life, he knew that a morning like this gave him the kind of inner peace that carried him through the day, no matter how difficult it was.

He felt relaxed, his mind drifting back into something akin to sleep. He was vaguely aware that more and more memories were materializing in the back of his mind as he slowly drifted off.

He was not asleep, not yet awake. He noticed the gaps in his memory filling in faster and faster until he was so longer sure if he was still missing anything at all.

Just a few days ago, the mere idea of him enjoying something like this, lying in bed, feeling safe and warm, knowing where his next meal was coming from, had seemed preposterous. Now he could think of nothing better. When Kit woke up, they would stay in bed for a little longer, probably start the day with some lazy morning sex. Breakfast, a bath, catching up on some paperwork now that his memories were starting to come back to him, and then go for a walk along the vines. On his vineyard.

At that moment he was utterly grateful for the life he had. As soon as she woke up he would tell Kit that he remembered, all of it.

Kit began to stir in his arms when he placed some kisses on the nape of her neck. Then something bizarre happened: She flinched violently in his embrace, as if she was having a seizure. Her breathing became hectic and her heart started to pound in her chest so loud that Geralt was certain that even a normal person would have been able to hear it.

He was about to ask her if something was wrong when she slowly turned around and craned her neck to look at him. At the sight of him, her eyes widened in shock, she screamed and all but tried to jump out of his arms.

Before he could even attempt to ask her what was wrong, she had jumped out of the bed. One of her feet got tangled in the bedsheets and she stumbled, hitting her head hard on the edge of closet next to the bed. Blood started to trickle out of a gash on her forehead as she feverishly tried to orient herself and get back up on her feet. But all she managed to do was to trap herself in the corner between bed and wardrobe, the bedsheet still wrapped around her foot.

Geralt was on his feet immediately.

"Kit? What's wrong?" Had she been woken up from a particularly bad nightmare? That would have been unusual, for all he could remember, she had never acted like that, nor was she prone to nightmares. It looked like she was having a real panic attack which was not something he knew she had ever experienced, not like this anyway.

He dropped to his knees beside her but she only flinched, pulling her legs to her chest and hiding her face behind her arms. She shook and cried and then pleaded:

"Please don't hurt me." All the while blood continued to run down her face.

"Hey, calm down. It's alright. Calm down…"

He grabbed her forearms and gently pulled them away from her face.

"Kit, please. What's going on?" Geralt's mind raced, but he could find no explanation for her odd behavior.

Kit looked at him through her tears, her entire body shaking miserably, her teeth chattering, her eyes barely able to focus on his.

"Please don't hurt me," she begged again.

"Don't be silly, I would never hurt you," he said.

And suddenly it dawned on him. No. No no no. Not this, he thought desperately.

"Where am I? Who are you?" she sobbed between hitched breaths, thereby confirming his suspicions and worst fears.