'I read about it in a book written by Marshal Pelican,' she snorted. 'And in other analogies. Tell me what happened in Dol Angra or whatever it's called. But first, show me where it is.'
'Here. Dol Angra is a wide valley, a route leading from the south to the kingdoms of Lyria and Rivia, to Aedirn, and further to Dol Blathanna and Kaedwen… And through Pontar Valley to us, to Temeria.'
And what happened there?'
'There was fighting. Apparently. I don't know much about it, but that's what they're saying at the castle.'
'If there was fighting,' frowned Ciri, 'there's a war already! So what are you talking about?'
'It's not the first time there's been fighting,' clarified Jarre, but the girl saw that he was less and less sure of himself. 'Incidents at the border are very frequent. But they're insignificant.'
And how come?'
'The forces are balanced. Neither we nor the Nilfgaardians can do anything. And neither of the sides can give their opponent a casus belli-'
'Give what?'
'A reason for war. Understand? That's why the armed incidents in Dol Angra are most certainly fortuitous matters, probably attacks by brigands or skirmishes with smugglers… In no way can they be the work of regular armies, neither ours nor those of Nilfgaard… Because that would be precisely a casus belli…'
'Aha. Jarre, tell me-'
She broke off. She raised her head abruptly, quickly touched her temples with her fingers and frowned.
'I've got to go,' she said. 'Lady Yennefer is calling me.'
'You can hear her?' The boy was intrigued. 'At a distance? How…'
'I've got to go,' she repeated, getting to her feet and brushing the dust off her knees. 'Listen, Jarre. I'm leaving with Lady Yennefer, on some very important matters. I don't know when we'll be back. I warn you they are secret matters which concern only wizards, so don't ask any questions.'
Jarre also stood up. He adjusted his clothing but still did not know what to do with his hands. His eyes glazed over sickeningly.
'Ciri…'
'What?'
'I… I…'
'I don't know what you're talking about,' she said impatiently, glaring at him with her huge, emerald eyes. Nor do you, obviously. I'm off. Take care, Jarre.'
'Goodbye… Ciri. Have a safe journey. I'll… I'll be thinking of you…'
Ciri sighed.
'I'm here, Lady Yennefer!'
She flew into the chamber like a shot from a catapult and the door thumped open, slamming against the wall. She could have broken her legs on the stool standing in her way but Ciri jumped
over it deftly, gracefully executed a half-pirouette feigning the slash of a sword, and joyfully laughed at her successful trick. Despite running briskly, she did not pant but breathed evenly and calmly. She had mastered breath control to perfection.
'I'm here!' she repeated.
'At last. Get undressed, and into the tub. Quick.'
The enchantress did not look round, did not turn away from the table, looked at Ciri in the mirror. Slowly. She combed her damp, black curls which straightened under the pressure of the comb only to spring back a moment later into shiny waves.
The girl unbuckled her boots in a flash, kicked them off, freed herself of her clothes and with a splash landed in the tub. Grabbing the soap, she started to energetically scrub her forearms.
Yennefer sat motionless, staring at the window and toying with her comb. Ciri snorted, spluttered and spat because soap had got into her mouth. She tossed her head wandering whether a spell existed which could make washing possible without water, soap and wasting time.
The magician put the comb aside but, lost in thought, kept gazing through the window at the swarms of ravens and crows croaking horrifically as they flew east. On the table, next to the mirror and an impressive array of bottled cosmetics, lay several letters. Ciri knew that Yennefer had been waiting for them a long time and that the day on which they were to leave the Temple depended on her receiving these letters. In spite of what she had told Jarre, the girl had no idea where and why they were leaving. But in those letters…
Splashing with her left hand so as to mislead, she arranged the fingers of her right in a gesture, concentrated on a formula, fixed her eyes on the letters and sent out an impulse.
'Don't you even dare,' said Yennefer, without turning around.
'I thought…' She cleared her throat. 'I thought one of them might be from Geralt…'
'If it was, I'd have given it to you.' The magician turned in her chair and sat facing her. 'Are you going to be long washing?'
'I've finished.'
'Get up, please.'
Ciri obeyed. Yennefer smiled faintly.
'Yes,' she said, 'you've finished with childhood. You've rounded out where necessary. Lower your hands. I'm not interested in your elbows. Well, well, don't blush, no false shyness. It's your body, the most natural thing in the world. And the fact that you're developing is just as natural. If your fate had turned out differently… If it weren't for the war, you'd have long been the wife of some duke or prince. You realise that, don't you? We've discussed matters concerning your gender often enough and in enough detail for you to know that you're already a woman. Physiologically, that is to say. Surely you've not forgotten what we talked about?'
'No. I haven't.'
When you visit Jarre I hope there aren't any problems with your memory either?'
Ciri lowered her eyes, but only momentarily. Yennefer did not smile.
'Dry yourself and come here,' she said coolly. 'No splashing, please.'
Wrapped in a towel, Ciri sat down on the small chair at the magician's knees. Yennefer brushed the girl's hair, every now and again snipping off a disobedient wisp with a pair of scissors.
'Are you angry with me?' asked the girl reluctantly. 'For, for… going to the tower?'
'No. But Nenneke doesn't like it. You know that.'
'But I haven't… I don't care about Jarre in the least.' Ciri blushed a little. 'I only…'
'Exactly,' muttered the enchantress. 'You only. Don't play the child because you're not one any more, let me remind you. That boy slobbers and stammers at the sight of you. Can't you see that?'
'That's not my fault! What am I supposed to do?'
Yennefer stopped combing Ciri's hair and measured her with a deep, violet gaze.
'Don't toy with him. It's base.'
'But I'm not toying with him! I'm only talking to him!'
'I'd like to believe,' the enchantress said as she snipped her
scissors, cutting yet another wisp of hair which would not allow itself to be styled for anything in the world, 'that during these conversations, you remember what I asked you.'
'I remember, I remember!'
'He's an intelligent and bright boy. One or two inadvertent words could lead him on the right track, to matters he should know nothing about. No one, absolutely no one must find out who you are.'
'I remember,' repeated Ciri. 'I haven't squealed a word to anyone, you can be sure of that. Tell me, is that why we have to leave so suddenly? Are you afraid that someone's going to find out I'm here? Is that why?'
'No. There are other reasons.'
'Is it because… there might be a war? Everybody's talking about another war! Everybody's talking about it, Lady Yennefer.'
'Indeed,' the magician confirmed coolly, snipping her scissors just above Ciri's ear. 'It's a subject which belongs to the so-called interminable category. There's been talk about wars in the past, there is talk now and there always will be. And not without reason there have been wars and there will be wars. Lower your head.'
'Jarre said… that there's not going to be a war with Nilfgaard. He spoke of some sort of analogies… Showed me a map. I don't know what to think myself any more. I don't know what these analogies are, probably
