Free Time of Contempt (The Witcher) by Andrzej Sapkowski Page A

jar,’ Ciri realised. ‘What was in it?’
    ‘Glamarye. An elixir. Or rather a cream for special occasions. Ciri, must you ride into every puddle in the road?’
    ‘I’m trying to clean my horse’s fetlocks.’
    ‘It hasn’t rained for a month. That’s slops and horse piss, not water.’
    ‘Aha . . . Tell me, why did you use that elixir? Did it matter so much to you to—’
    ‘This is Gors Velen,’ interrupted Yennefer. ‘A city that owes much of its prosperity to sorcerers and enchantresses. Actually, if I’m honest, chiefly to enchantresses.
You saw for yourself how enchantresses are treated here. And I had no desire to introduce myself or prove who I am. I preferred to make it obvious at first glance. We turn left after that red
house. We’ll walk, Ciri. Slow your horse down or you’ll trample a child.’
    ‘But why did we come
here
then?’
    ‘I just told you.’
    Ciri snorted, thinking hard, then pursed her lips and dug her heels hard into her horse. Her mare skittered, almost colliding with a passing horse and cart. The carter got up from his seat,
ready to unleash a stream of professional abuse at her, but on seeing Yennefer sat down quickly and began a thorough analysis of the state of his clogs.
    ‘Try to bolt like that once more,’ enunciated Yennefer, ‘and we’ll get cross. You’re behaving like an adolescent goat. You’re embarrassing me.’
    ‘I figured it out. You want to put me in some school or orphanage, don’t you? I don’t want to go!’
    ‘Be quiet. People are staring.’
    ‘They’re staring at you, not at me! I don’t want to go to school! You promised me you’d always be with me, and now you’re planning to leave me all by myself! I
don’t want to be alone!’
    ‘You won’t be alone. There are plenty of girls your age at the school. You’ll have lots of friends.’
    ‘I don’t want any friends. I want to be with you and . . . I thought we’d—’
    Yennefer suddenly turned to face her.
    ‘What did you think?’
    ‘I thought we were going to see Geralt,’ said Ciri, tossing her head provocatively. ‘I know perfectly well what you’ve been thinking about the entire journey. And why you
were sighing at night—’
    ‘Enough,’ hissed the enchantress, and the sight of her glaring eyes made Ciri bury her face in her horse’s mane. ‘You’ve overstepped the mark. May I remind you that
the moment when you could defy me has passed for ever? You only have yourself to blame and now you have to be obedient. You’ll do as I say. Understood?’
    Ciri nodded.
    ‘Whatever I say will be the best for you. Always. Which is why you will obey me and carry out my instructions. Is that clear? Rein in your horse. We’re here.’
    ‘That’s the school?’ grunted Ciri, looking up at the magnificent facade of a building. ‘Is that—?’
    ‘Not another word. Dismount. And mind your manners. This isn’t the school. It’s in Aretuza, not in Gors Velen. This is a bank.’
    ‘Why do we need a bank?’
    ‘Think about it. And dismount, as I said. Not in a puddle! Leave your horse; that’s the servant’s job. Take off your gloves. You don’t go into a bank wearing riding
gloves. Look at me, Ciri. Straighten your beret. And your collar. Stand up straight. And if you don’t know what to do with your hands then don’t do anything with them!’
    Ciri sighed.
    The servants who poured out of the entrance and assisted them – falling over each other as they bowed – were dwarves. Ciri looked at them with interest. Although they were all short,
sturdy and bearded, in no way did they resemble her companion Yarpen Zigrin or his ‘lads’. These servants looked grey: identically uniformed and unremarkable. They were subservient,
too, which could never be said about Yarpen and his lads.
    They went inside. The magic elixir was still working, so Yennefer’s appearance immediately caused a great commotion. More dwarves bustled and bowed, and there were further obsequious