Time of Contempt (The Witcher) (35 page)

‘Ceallach,’ he said. ‘To me.’

The seneschal stopped in front of the emperor at the distance decreed by etiquette and bowed.

‘Closer,’ said Emhyr. ‘Come closer, Ceallach. I shall speak quietly. And what I say is meant for your ears only.’

‘Your Highness.’

‘What else is planned for today?’

‘Receiving accrediting letters and granting a formal exequatur to the envoy of King Esterad of Kovir,’ recited the seneschal rapidly. ‘Appointing viceroys, prefects and
palatines in the new provinces and palatinates. Ratifying the title of Count and appanage of—’

‘We shall grant the envoy his exequatur and receive him in a private audience. Postpone the other matters until tomorrow.’

‘Yes, Your Royal Highness.’

‘Inform the Viscount of Eiddon and Skellen that immediately after the audience with the ambassador they are to report to the library. In secret. You are also to be there. And bring that
celebrated mage of yours, that soothsayer . . . What was his name?’

‘Xarthisius, Your Highness. He lives in a tower outside the city—’

‘Where he lives is of no interest to me. Send for him. He is to be brought to my apartments. Quietly, with a minimum of fuss, clandestinely.’

‘Your Highness . . . Is it wise, for that astrologer—’

‘That is an order, Ceallach.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Before three hours had passed, all of those summoned were present in the imperial library. The summons didn’t surprise Vattier de Rideaux, the Viscount of Eiddon. Vattier was the chief of
military intelligence. Vattier was often summoned by Emhyr; they were at war, after all. Neither did the summons surprise Stefan Skellen – also known as Tawny Owl – who served the
imperator as coroner and as the authority on special services and operations. Nothing ever surprised Tawny Owl.

The third person summoned, however, was astonished to be asked to attend. Particularly since the emperor addressed him first.

‘Master Xarthisius.’

‘Your Imperial Highness.’

‘I must establish the whereabouts of a certain individual. An individual who has either gone missing or is being hidden. Or is perhaps imprisoned. The sorcerers I previously gave this task
to failed me. Will you undertake it?’

‘At what distance is this individual – may this individual be – residing?’

‘If I knew that, I wouldn’t need your witchcraft.’

‘I beg your forgiveness, Your Imperial Highness . . .’ stammered the astrologer. ‘The point is that great distances hinder astromancy, they practically preclude it . . . Hum,
hum . . . And should this individual be under magical protection . . . I can try, but—’

‘Keep it brief, master.’

‘I need time . . . And ingredients for the spells . . . If the alignment of stars is auspicious, then . . . Hum, hum . . . Your Imperial Highness, what you request is an exacting task . .
. I need time—’

Much more of this and Emhyr will order him to be stuck on a spike
, thought Tawny Owl.
If the wizard doesn’t stop jabbering
. . .

‘Master Xarthisius,’ interrupted the imperator surprisingly politely, even gently. ‘You will have everything you need at your disposal. Including time. Within
reason.’

‘I shall do everything in my power,’ declared the astrologer. ‘But I shall only be able to determine the approximate location . . . I mean the region or
radius—’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Astromancy . . .’ stammered Xarthisius. ‘At great distances astromancy only permits approximate localisations . . . Very approximate, with considerable tolerance . . . With
very considerable tolerance. I truly know not whether I will be able—’

‘You will be able, master,’ drawled the imperator and his dark eyes flashed balefully. ‘I am utterly confident in your abilities. And as far as tolerance is concerned, the less
is yours, the greater will be mine.’

Xarthisius cowered.

‘I must know the precise birth date of this individual,’ he mumbled. ‘To the hour; if possible . . . An object which belonged to the individual would also be invaluable . .
.’

‘Hair,’ said Emhyr quietly. ‘Would hair suffice?’

‘Oooh!’ said the astrologer, brightening up. ‘Hair! That would expedite things considerably . . . Ah, and if I could also have faeces or urine . . .’

Emhyr’s eyes narrowed menacingly and the wizard cowered and made a low bow.

‘I humbly apologise, Your Imperial Highness . . .’ he grunted. ‘Please forgive me . . . Of course . . . Indeed, hair will suffice . . . Will absolutely suffice . . . When might
I be given it?’

‘It will be supplied to you today, along with the date and hour of birth. I won’t keep you any longer, master. Return to your tower and start examining the constellations.’

‘May the Great Sun keep you ever in its care, Your Imperial—’

‘Yes, yes. You may withdraw.’

Now for us
, thought Tawny Owl.
I wonder what’s in store for us
.

‘Should anyone,’ said the imperator slowly, ‘breathe a word of what is about to be said, they will be quartered. Vattier!’

‘Yes, Your Highness.’

‘How did that . . .
princess
. . . end up here? Who was involved?’

‘She came from the stronghold in Nastrog,’ said the chief of intelligence. ‘She was escorted here by guardsmen commanded by . . .’

‘That’s not what I bloody mean! How did that girl end up in Nastrog, in Verden? Who had her brought to the stronghold? Who is currently the commandant there? Is it the man who sent
the report? Godyvron something?’

‘Godyvron Pitcairn,’ said Vattier de Rideaux quickly, ‘was of course informed about Rience and Count Cahir aep Ceallach’s mission. Three days after the events on the Isle
of Thanedd, two people showed up in Nastrog. To be precise: one human and the other a half-blood elf. It was they who, citing the names Rience and Count Cahir, handed the princess over to
Godyvron.’

‘Aha,’ said the imperator, smiling, and Tawny Owl felt a shiver running down his back. ‘Vilgefortz vouched he would capture Cirilla on Thanedd. Rience assured me of the same.
Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach received clear orders in this matter. And so, three days after the scandal on the island, Cirilla is brought to Nastrog on the River Yarra; not by Vilgefortz, nor
Rience, nor Cahir, but by a human and a half-elf. Did it not occur to Godyvron to arrest them?’

‘No. Shall he be punished for it, Your Highness?’

‘No.’

Tawny Owl swallowed. Emhyr was silent, rubbing his forehead, and the huge diamond in his ring shone like a star. A moment later, the imperator looked up.

‘Vattier.’

‘Your Highness?’

‘Mobilise all your subordinates. Order them to arrest Rience and Count Cahir. I presume the two of them are residing in territories as yet unoccupied by our forces. You will use
Scoia’tael or Queen Enid’s elves to achieve that end. Take the two captives to Darn Ruach and subject them to torture.’

‘What information is required, Your Highness?’ said Vattier de Rideaux, narrowing his eyes and pretending not notice the paleness on the face of Seneschal Ceallach.

‘None. Later, when they’re softened up a little, I shall ask them personally. Skellen!’

‘Yes, sire.’

‘That old fool Xarthisius; if that jabbering copromancer manages to determine what I’ve ordered him to, then you will organise a search for a certain individual in the area he
indicates. You will receive a description. It’s possible that the astrologer will indicate a region under our control, and then you will mobilise everyone responsible for that region. The
entire civilian and military apparatus. It is a matter of the highest priority. Is that understood?’

‘Yes, sire. May I . . . ?’

‘No, you may not. Sit down and listen, Tawny Owl. Xarthisius will probably not come up with anything. The individual I have ordered him to search for is probably in foreign territory and
under magical protection. I’d give my head that the individual I’m looking for is in the same place as our good friend, the sorcerer Vilgefortz of Roggeveen, who has mysteriously
vanished. That is also why, Skellen, you will assemble and prepare a special unit, which you will personally command. Use the best men you have. They are to be ready for everything . . . and not
superstitious. I mean not afraid of magic.’

Tawny Owl raised his eyebrows.

‘Your unit,’ concluded Emhyr, ‘will be charged with attacking and capturing the hideout of Vilgefortz, former good friend and ally that he was, the whereabouts of which is
currently unknown to me, and which is probably quite well camouflaged and defended.’

‘Yes, sire,’ said Tawny Owl emotionlessly. ‘I presume that the individual being sought, whom they will probably find there, is not to be harmed.’

‘You presume correctly.’

‘What about Vilgefortz?’

‘He can be . . .’ The emperor smiled cruelly. ‘In his case he
ought
to be harmed, once and for all. Terminally harmed. This also applies to any other sorcerers you
happen to find in his hideout. Without exception.’

‘Yes, sire. Who is responsible for finding Vilgefortz’s hideout?’

‘You are, Tawny Owl.’

Stefan Skellen and Vattier de Rideaux exchanged glances. Emhyr leaned back in his chair.

‘Is everything clear? If so . . . What is it, Ceallach?’

‘Your Highness . . .’ whined the seneschal, to whom no one had paid any attention up until that moment. ‘I beg you for mercy . . .’

‘There is no mercy for traitors. There is no mercy for those who oppose my will.’

‘Cahir . . . My son . . .’

‘Your son . . .’ said Emhyr, narrowing his eyes. ‘I don’t yet know what your son is guilty of. I would like to hope that he is only guilty of stupidity and ineptitude and
not of treachery. If that is the case he will only be beheaded and not broken on the wheel.’

‘Your Highness! Cahir is not a traitor . . . Cahir could not have—’

‘Enough, Ceallach, not another word. The guilty will be punished. They attempted to deceive me and I will not forgive them for that. Vattier, Skellen, in one hour, report for your signed
instructions, orders and authorisations. You will then set about executing your tasks at once. And one more thing: I trust I do not have to add that the poor girl you saw in the throne room a short
while ago is to remain to everyone Cirilla, Queen of Cintra and Duchess of Rowan. To everyone. I order you to treat it as a state secret and a matter of the gravest national importance.’

All those present looked at the imperator in astonishment. Deithwen Addan yn Carn aep Morvudd smiled faintly.

‘Have you not understood? Instead of the real Cirilla of Cintra I’ve been sent some kind of dolt. Those traitors probably told themselves that I would not recognise her. But I will
know the real Ciri. I would know her at the end of the world and in the darkness of hell.’

The behaviour of the unicorn is greatly mystifying. Although exceptionally timid and fearful of people, if it should chance upon a maiden who has not had carnal relations
with a man it will at once run to her, kneel before her and,without any fear whatsoever, lay its head in her lap. It is said that in the dim and distant past there were maidens who made a veritable
practice of this. They remained unmarried and in abstinence for many years in order to be employed by hunters as a lure for unicorns. It soon transpired, however, that the unicorn only approached
youthful maidens, paying absolutely no attention to older ones. Being a wise creature, the unicorn indubitably knows that remaining too long in the state of maidenhood is suspicious and counter to
the natural order.

Phaysiologus

The heat woke her. It burnt her skin like a torturer’s glowing irons.

She could barely move her head, for something held it fast. She pulled away and howled in pain, feeling the skin over her temple tear and split. She opened her eyes. The boulder on which she had
been resting her head was dark brown from dry, congealed blood. She touched her temple and felt the remains of a hard, cracked scab under her fingers. The scab, which had been stuck to the boulder
and then torn from it when she moved her head, now dripped blood and plasma. Ciri cleared her throat, hawked and spat out sand mixed with thick, sticky saliva. She raised herself on her elbows and
then sat up, looking around.

She was completely surrounded by a greyish-red, stony plain, scored by ravines and faults, with mounds of stones and huge, strangely shaped rocks. High above the plain hung an enormous, golden,
burning sun, turning the entire sky yellow, distorting visibility with its blinding glare and making the air shimmer.

Where am I?

She gingerly touched her gashed, swollen forehead. It hurt. It hurt intensely.
I must have taken quite a tumble
, she thought.
I must have slid a fair way along the ground
. Her
attention turned to her torn clothing and she discovered other sources of pain: in her back, in her shoulder and in her hips. When she hit the ground she had become covered in dust, sharp sand and
grit. It was in her hair, ears, mouth and even her eyes, which were smarting and watering. Her hands and elbows, grazed to the raw flesh, were also stinging.

She slowly and cautiously straightened her legs and groaned once more, for her left knee reacted to movement with an intense, dull ache. She examined it through her undamaged trousers but did
not find any swelling. When she breathed in, she felt a worrying stabbing in her side, and her attempts to bend her trunk almost made her scream, shooting her through with a sharp spasm which she
felt in her lower back.
I’m good and bruised
, she thought.
But I don’t think I’ve broken anything. If I’d broken a bone, it would hurt much more. I’m in one
piece, just a bit knocked about. I’ll be able to get up. So I’ll get up.

Crouching forward awkwardly, making deliberate movements, she very slowly manoeuvred herself into a position which would protect her injured knee. Then she went onto all fours, groaning and
hissing. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, she stood up. Only to fall heavily onto the rock, as the dizziness which blurred her vision instantly took her legs from under her. Sensing a sudden
wave of nausea, she lay down on one side. The searing rock stung like red-hot coals.