At dusk, the Phantom Troupe passed back through the cursed mist and returned to Vergen.
With two bottles of hangover remedy tucked into her belt, Angoulême raced cheerfully toward The Cauldron. After a long and grueling negotiation, she had secured permission to eat dinner there and have a couple of drinks with her friends afterward. The conditions were that she could not get drunk and had to be home before midnight.
Victor, meanwhile, had nothing weighing on his mind and strolled leisurely along the stone-paved avenue.
Without warning, he heard the music of a lute, followed by soft, lively laughter that sounded like flowing water and the excited cheers of children.
The sounds came from a colorful stall that looked as though it had been taken from a storybook. Its sign read, "Miracles, amulets, and fishing bait for sale. Haircuts also available."
Victor stopped at a comfortable distance and listened to the stallholder plucking the strings of her lute. A headscarf covered all but a single lock of brown hair, and she wore high-collared, long-sleeved clothing. Nothing about her resembled a sorceress, save for the five-pointed star hanging from her belt, which hinted at her identity as a spellcaster.
As the sky gradually darkened, the children scattered noisily. Only then did she notice Victor watching her.
Setting down the instrument, the stallholder hooked one little finger around the ornament.
"Sir, has my five-pointed star stirred your curiosity?"
"It certainly has. Would you mind if I came closer for a look?" Victor asked with a smile as he approached the stall.
She was probably a young sorceress. Judging a spellcaster's age from appearance was almost entirely unreliable, but her lively eyes overflowed with youthful energy, and she still possessed enough childlike spirit to play with children.
"Then we should introduce ourselves first." She lifted her skirt and curtsied. "Good evening. I'm Felicia Cori. You must be Victor of Kaer Trolde. Why do you look so surprised? I heard about you while I was still at school. It cannot be denied that, since you first appeared three years ago, you've accomplished one remarkable deed after another. And right now, you're the only witcher in Vergen."
"Your information is remarkably current. I only arrived yesterday."
"A dragon slayer who saved the Dragonslayer, and a witcher besides, you're hardly an unknown figure."
Felicia's Temerian accent and perfectly measured flattery quickly won Victor's favor.
"Did you study at Aretuza?"
"Yes... I'm preparing to complete my practicum in elixirs and superstitions. That's why I'm here."
"Could your supervising instructor be Philippa Eilhart? She is certainly no ordinary woman. Is there anything I can do to help?"
"Help from the legendary hero Dovahkiin? How exciting!" The sorceress smiled radiantly. "I would be endlessly grateful. The locals simply refuse to buy magical goods, and I need to sell enough merchandise to pass my examination."
"An elixirs and superstitions practicum?" Victor could not suppress a quiet chuckle.
As its name suggested, the entire purpose of the course was to teach students how to bamboozle commoners, so the effectiveness of the goods being sold was not difficult to imagine.
"I think I'll pass on the amulets... Perhaps I could buy some alchemical materials instead. Oh, you cut hair as well?"
Realizing that he knew the trade, Felicia grinned mischievously.
"Yes, hairdressing is a personal interest of mine. Your haircut is excellent, but the edges are uneven. It must have been some time since you last had it trimmed. Perhaps you would be willing to purchase several of my 'extremely powerful amulets,' then sit in the chair and accept a complimentary haircut?"
Victor burst into laughter. This energetic young sorceress was utterly endearing, so he purchased quite a few things from Felicia and sat down to enjoy the complimentary haircut.
...
Some time later, Victor returned to his home in the upper district, humming a lively tune. In the dim light, the witcher noticed two people standing outside his door.
Their scents immediately revealed their identities. The presence of one was perfectly ordinary, while the other was highly unusual. The ordinary visitor was Iorveth. The unusual one was Saskia the Dragonslayer.
Victor also smelled pressed haggis.
A brief explanation was necessary regarding this supposedly exquisite delicacy. Chopped offal was mixed with spices, stuffed into a pig's stomach, and pressed flat between two thin wooden boards until it resembled a bellows. It was then steamed and served.
This traditional Aedirnian food was one of the few local customs that Victor's stomach had never managed to accept. Iorveth ought to have known that.
After he took a few more steps and they could see one another clearly, the woman was indeed Saskia. Smiling brightly, she raised the pressed haggis in her hand.
"Vic, you don't mind if I call you that, do you? I came over to chat, and I brought something delicious!"
Behind her, Iorveth stood with his arms crossed, wearing an expression of unrestrained delight at Victor's misfortune.
...
The most powerful warlord in Vergen and the rebel army's idealized leader had come to visit. How could he possibly shut the door in her face?
Victor invited both visitors inside, went to the kitchen to prepare several dishes, then returned carrying two bottles of Lafite.
While cooking, he had considered several possible reasons for the Dragonslayer's sudden visit. The most likely explanation was that Iorveth had sold him out.
Sure enough, after several drinks supposedly offered in gratitude, the Virgin of Aedirn came straight to the point.
"Vic, is it true that you said there's no need to rush the lifting of the cursed mist?"
Victor shot a contemptuous sideways glance at Iorveth for selling out a friend for a pretty face, then answered solemnly.
"Lady..."
"Just call me Saskia."
Her bright eyes remained fixed on him. There was a faint pressure in her gaze, the presence of someone accustomed to command, or perhaps the illusion that she was reading his mind.
"Well... Saskia," Victor said calmly after weighing the advantages and disadvantages. "Witchers are not experts on the effects of large-scale curses. That is Lady Eilhart's field of expertise. I was merely sharing a private opinion with Iorveth..."
The Dragonslayer waved one hand with heroic confidence.
"I understand. I simply want to hear you explain it again. Would you?"
She really was a difficult woman to refuse.
Why do I feel like doing whatever she asks? Have I fallen in love with her!?
Suppressing the question, the witcher offered the most conservative conclusion he could reach and sincerely explained it to Saskia.
"The cursed mist would need at least two months to spread far enough to engulf Vergen... because... therefore... and the reason I say that is..."
The Virgin of Aedirn spent a short while listening to the young man's explanation. At first, she seemed deep in thought. Then she smiled, raised her cup, and never mentioned the matter again.
Once the sensitive subject had been set aside, Victor had to admit that she was a wonderful conversational partner. She possessed more than outward beauty. She was also learned, broad-minded, and nothing like the daughter of an Aedirnian farmer.
Even more surprisingly, they shared a mutual friend. Saskia knew Aryan La Valette, the young lord of La Valette Castle, and strongly agreed with his views on equality.
Those views had originally been shared with the baron by Victor.
Their conversation flowed as freely as the wine. The Dragonslayer's capacity for alcohol was astonishing, while the witcher's tolerance was frankly unfair. Iorveth, who had been drinking with them, soon collapsed.
Saskia and Victor continued drinking and talking until Angoulême came home at midnight, at which point Saskia finally departed.
The only other event worth mentioning was that, at the Virgin of Aedirn's enthusiastic recommendation, the young man tried the pressed haggis.
It actually did not taste bad.
...
The next morning, after completing his run, Victor visited Philippa's residence again. No one responded, so he opened the door and went inside.
The ringing of a blacksmith's hammer sounded loudly from nearby, but the room itself was silent. Faint magical fluctuations drifted through the air, resembling the soundproofing ward he had sensed the previous day.
Driven by an expectation that could not be spoken aloud, he decided to peek into the inner room.
It was purely academic observation. He only intended to take a quick look.
Unfortunately, there was no erotic spectacle to observe today. Only the apprentice Cynthia sat alone at a desk, diligently studying. Victor's attention had been entirely consumed by the fierce battle the day before, so only now did he notice the well-stocked bookshelves standing nearby.
Since there was no embarrassing scene before him, the witcher passed through the soundproofing ward. Perhaps he triggered some mechanism, because the blonde, blue-eyed apprentice immediately spun around.
"Ah! Mr. Victor Corion. If you're here to see Lady Eilhart, there was an issue requiring discussion in the council chamber this morning. It will be some time before she returns."
"Thank you, Miss Cynthia. Also, I behaved rudely yesterday. I... regret the intrusion."
Today, the apprentice wore only a thin white shirt. Every curve, shadow, and darker patch beneath the cloth was unable to escape Victor's enhanced vision.
She flirtatiously swept back her blonde hair.
"You needn't concern yourself. Yes, Lady Eilhart is a mentor with very diverse demands, but she is also incredibly charming. I enjoy what she does.
"You should understand that she is the very best. Aside from that old elven sorceress Findabair, no one can compare to her. You must have seen the way she casts spells. Every movement is so light and elegant, entirely unlike that old crone de Tansarville."
Victor maintained an open-minded attitude regarding the methods through which mentor and apprentice sharpened each other's skills. The last name she mentioned, however, caught his attention.
"You know Síle as well?"
"I have watched her cast spells. I have seen every great sorceress at work. Síle's style is masculine, precise, rational, and exceptionally calm. But it lacks elegance and softness."
The apprentice's arrogant evaluation left Victor somewhat surprised.
"Is that your own judgment, or are you merely repeating Philippa's words?"
"We share the same opinion. As for Triss Merigold, the woman you are searching for, she possesses talent, but she lacks resolve, courage, and the cold, stubborn ruthlessness that no true sorceress can do without."
Victor remembered the last time he had seen Cynthia in the carriage, wearing a sweet, harmless smile, and raised an eyebrow.
"Your opinions are fascinating... Perhaps you would be willing to spare some time and evaluate a few more?"
She ran her tongue along her upper lip.
"Keira Metz and Margarita Laux-Antille are both complacent, relying entirely on their natural talent to sustain them. The former is a hedonist and a libertine, while the latter cares for nothing except her school, Aretuza. Both lost their passion for magic long ago.
"Then there is Francesca Findabair. No one knows the true limits of that old elven woman's abilities... but she is undoubtedly immensely powerful."
Victor disliked the tone she used when criticizing Keira, but his expression remained unchanged.
"Philippa appears to possess none of those weaknesses... but I imagine that, in your eyes, she must have some flaw."
"Of course. Ambition. Infinite and boundless, burning inside her like the Korath Desert."
Even with the soundproofing ward ensuring that nothing could escape, she truly dared to criticize her own mentor. Was their relationship really that secure?
A possibility flashed through Victor's mind. Perhaps this apprentice was close to completing her education, which was why she felt free to speak without restraint.
"Purely out of curiosity, how long does a mage's training take these days?"
"Witcher, I assure you that you cannot afford to spend that much time. Besides, you possess no talent. Gifted children begin manifesting phenomena associated with Chaos at a very early age, after which magical academies discover and recruit them."
"That doesn't matter. I have a few respectable spells of my own."
"You mean witcher Signs?" Cynthia covered her mouth and giggled. "Philippa can conjure an illusion of a garden filled with flowers and fruit trees, inhabited by young elves who spend the entire day making joyous love. And the illusion is complete. The flowers possess fragrance, while the fruit and elven women are all wet and succulent..."
There was no doubt that she looked down upon witcher Signs. Compared with the fully sensory illusions created by sorceresses, Signs were nothing more than parlor tricks.
"The next time she conjures such a garden, you absolutely must inform me. I would be delighted to come and observe it. For academic discussion and professional curiosity, of course."
Her eyes traveled over Victor's powerful physique, and her smile was both innocent and suggestive.
"Certainly. However, I doubt Philippa is currently in the mood to conjure complicated illusions. She has focused every thought on Saskia."
"This conversation has been extremely educational."
"Pay it no mind. Think about it, witcher. Think about it when you have time."
Her smile seemed to conceal a deeper meaning.
...
Victor left the soundproofing ward and returned to the sitting room to meditate. Eventually, he heard the door open.
Philippa Eilhart had returned from the meeting.
The witcher carefully studied her expression. The sorceress appeared to be in a good mood, which meant Saskia probably had not told her about Victor undermining her plans.
Victor took out the bandana and handed it to her.
"This is one of Triss's personal belongings."
"You discovered something that belonged to her, but not the woman herself?" Philippa asked, accepting it with a sharp look in her eyes.
"Triss appeared at the quarry. Letho forced her to teleport, and that was where they landed."
"Wait. Why would the kingslayer do that? There are safer ways to travel."
"Two of Letho's accomplices, probably the same men who must answer for Demavend's death, were hiding among the Scoia'tael. When the kingslayer attempted to eliminate Iorveth in Flotsam, the Scoia'tael leader ordered the entire unit destroyed. Letho needed to reach them before the elven messengers did. At the time, he was trapped in Flotsam Forest with enemies closing in from every direction. Teleportation was his only option."
None of this information needed to be hidden. It could be acquired through numerous channels, and Victor currently needed Philippa's help, so the witcher adopted an attitude of complete openness.
"Hmm... I suspect Triss intended to teleport to me, but missed her target and arrived in the narrow ravine instead. What happened after that?"
"Letho left her wounded in the ravine, then went to meet the elves. Together with his accomplices, he massacred the entire unit. They should currently be somewhere on the far side of the mist. Triss, however, unexpectedly fell under the local trolls'... protection..."
"The trolls'... protection? You didn't rescue her? I refuse to believe that any rock troll could withstand Dovahkiin's blade!"
Victor spread his hands and smiled bitterly in response to Philippa's questioning.
"Unfortunately, she fled from the trolls' protection. The traces she left behind show that she is somewhere in this region."
"I can assure you that she is not in Vergen..."
"She must be somewhere nearby. Lady Eilhart, please. I hope to rely upon your magic to locate her using this bandana."
"Do not be anxious, witcher. I care more about her safety than you do. I'll work as quickly as possible, but it will take some time."
"I have enough patience to wait."
Victor took his leave without mentioning his conversation with Cynthia.
After all, an outsider should not sow discord between those who were close. They were intimate mentor and apprentice, while he was merely a neutral witcher.
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