the ruins of the village.
Matya retrieved the leather pouch with the doll from its hiding place in her wagon and tied it to her belt. She sat for a time on the wagon's bench, alone with her thoughts, then finally made her way back to Ciri's cottage. Like all the others, this building was in ruins. The roof was gone, and two of the walls had fallen into a jumble of broken stone.
Trevarre had risen and was in the process of adjusting the straps of his ornate armor. He looked up in surprise.
'Matya. I did not hear you open the door.'
Matya bit her tongue to keep from telling him there WAS no door.
'Have you seen Ciri this morning?' he asked. He ran a hand through his lank brown hair.
'I saw her out in the village,' Matya said, afraid to say more.
'Is something wrong, Matya?' Trevarre asked her, frowning.
Matya's hand crept to the leather purse. She could have everything she had ever wanted, if she just gave Trevarre the doll. He would take it. She knew he would. As unlikely as Trevarre looked on the outside, the heart that beat in his chest was a knight's, true and pure. He would break the enchantment, and Ciri would be free. She had sworn her oath by Nuitari — a vow no sorcerer could break. Matya would be rich beyond her dreams. It would be the greatest bargain Matya had ever struck.
Her hand reached into the pouch, brushing the smooth porcelain. 'I wanted to tell you…' She swallowed and started over. 'I just wanted to tell you, Trevarre.. '
'Go on,' he said in his resonant voice, his pale eyes regarding her seriously.
Matya saw kindness in his gaze, and, for one brief moment, she almost imagined she saw something more — admiration, affection.
Matya sighed. She could not do it. How could she live with herself, knowing it was she who had silenced Trevarre's noble voice forever? She could strike a bargain for anything — anything but another's life. Belek had been right. There were some bargains that weren't worth making.
'There IS something wrong,' Matya blurted. 'Something terribly wrong.' She told Trevarre of her conversation with Ciri. 'You see, we must leave — now!'
The knight shook his head.
'She is evil!' Matya protested.
'I cannot believe it, Matya.'
'What?' she said in shock. Although Ciri had warned her, Matya still was shocked. She had given up the greatest bargain of her life, and now he claimed that he didn't believe her? 'But what reason would I have to lie to you, Trevarre? Has her loveliness made a slave of you already?' Her voice was bitter.
He held up a hand. 'I did not say that I do not believe you, Matya. I said that I cannot. I cannot believe evil of another without proof.' He sighed and paced about the ruined cottage, which to his eyes still looked warm and hospitable. 'How can I explain it to you, Matya? It has to do with the Measure I swore to uphold. Ciri sent out a plea for help, and I have answered it. Yes, she is lovely, but that is hardly the reason I cannot heed your warnings, Matya. She has shown me nothing but courtesy. To leave without aiding her would be a grave dishonor. And you know — '
'Yes, I know,' Matya said harshly. ' 'Your honor is your life.' But what if she tried to harm you?'
'That would be different. Then I would know she is evil. But she has not. Nothing has changed. I will help her break the enchantment that keeps her here in this village if it is at all in my power to do so.'
Trevarre fastened his sword belt about his waist and walked to the door of the ruined cottage. Before he stepped outside, he laid a gentle hand upon Matya's arm. 'I doubt that it matters to you,' he said hesitantly in his clear voice, 'but, to my eyes, you are every bit as lovely.'
Before Matya could so much as open her mouth in surprise, Trevarre was gone.
Matya stood in silence for a long moment, then muttered angrily under her breath, 'The Solamnic Knights aren't fools. They're idiots!' She stamped out of the open doorway after Trevarre.
Ciri was waiting for her.
'Do you have an answer for me, Matya?' Ciri asked in her lilting voice.
Trevarre stood before the enchantress, the wind blowing his cloak out behind him. He would not raise a hand against her, Matya knew. What happened next was going to have to be up to her.
'The answer is no, Ciri,' Matya said calmly. 'I won't accept your bargain.'
Ciri's eyes flashed, and the wind caught her dark hair, flinging it wildly about her head. Anger touched her lovely face. Trevarre, startled, fell back before her fury.
'That is a foolish decision, Matya,' Ciri said, all pretext of sweetness gone from her voice. 'I will find another who will break the enchantment for me. I'll have the doll back! You both will die!'
The enchantress spread her arms wide, and the wind whipped about. Dry dust stung Matya's face. Trevarre looked around, shock on his face. The illusion had vanished. The evil-looking ruins were laid bare and undisguised.
Ciri spoke several strange, guttural words. Instantly the swirling wind was filled with dead tree limbs and dry, brown leaves. As Matya watched, the broken branches and leaves began to clump together, growing denser, taking shape.
'Trevarre, look out!' Matya cried out in terror.
The dead, brittle branches and dumps of rotting leaves had taken the shape of a man. The tree creature was huge, towering over the knight. It reached out a bark-covered arm that ended in splintery claws. Its gigantic maw displayed row upon row of jagged, thorny teeth.
Trevarre drew his sword, barely in time to block the creature's swing. Branches and splinters flew in all directions, but the knight stumbled beneath the blow. His face blanched with pain; his wounded leg buckled beneath him. He was too weak to fight such a monster, Matya realized. One more blow and he would fall. Ciri watched the battle with a look of cruel pleasure on her face. The tree monster roared again, drawing back its arm for another bone-crushing blow.
Matya drew the doll from the leather pouch and stared at it. She hesitated for a moment, but the sight of Trevarre — standing before the monster, his face grim and unafraid — steeled her resolve. Regretfully, she bade her dreams of wealth farewell… and hurled the doll at the altar.
Too late Ciri saw Matya's intent. The enchantress shrieked in rage and reached out to catch the doll. Her fingers closed on thin air.
The figurine struck the altar and shattered into a thousand pale shards — dirty, broken bones. The wind died as suddenly as it had started. The tree monster shuddered and collapsed into a pile of inanimate wood and leaves. Trevarre stumbled backward, leaning on his sword to keep from falling. His face was ashen, his breathing hard.
'What have you done?' Ciri shrieked, her sapphire-blue eyes wide with astonishment and horror.
'I've given you what you wanted,' Matya cried. 'You're free now, Ciri. Just let Trevarre go. That's all I ask.'
Ciri shook her head, but her lips moved wordlessly now. She took a few steps toward Matya, each one slower than the last. Her movements had become strangely halting, as if she were walking through water, not air. The enchantress reached out a hand, but whether the gesture was one of fury or supplication, Matya did not know. Suddenly, Ciri shuddered and stood motionless. For a moment, the figure of the enchantress stood there among the ruins, as pale and perfect as a porcelain doll. Her eyes glimmered like clear, soulless gems.
Then, even as Matya watched, a fine crack traced its way across the smooth surface of Ciri's lovely face. More cracks spread from it, snaking their way across Ciri's cheeks, her throat, her arms. As if she had been fashioned of porcelain herself, Ciri crumbled into a mound of countless fragments, a heap of yellowed bones — all that was left of the enchantress.
The doves were singing their evening song when the gaudily painted wagon bounced past the fallen remains of the gigantic statues and turned eastward down the road, heading toward the town of Garnet. Matya and Trevarre had traveled in silence most of the way from the ruined village of Tambor. The knight, still recovering from his wounds, had slept the better part of the day. Matya was content to occupy herself with her thoughts.
