Andrzej Sapkowski - Blood of Elves

Smoke. Fire. Frantic galloping, hooves thundering. Flames all around. 'Hold on! Hold on, Lion Cub of Cintra!'

The black horse neighs, rears. 'Hold on!'

The black horse dances. In the slit of the helmet adorned with the wings of a bird of prey shine and burn merciless eyes.

A broad sword, reflecting the glow of the fire, falls with a hiss. Dodge, Ciri! Feign! Pirouette, parry! Dodge! Dodge! Too sloooowwww!

The blow blinds her with its flash, shakes her whole body, the pain paralyses her for a moment, dulls, deadens, and then suddenly explodes with a terrible strength, sinks its cruel, sharp fangs into her cheek, yanks, penetrates right through, radiates into the neck, the shoulders, chest, lungs…

'Ciri!'

She felt the coarse, unpleasant, still coolness of stone on her back and head. She did not remember sitting down. Yennefer was kneeling next to her. Gently, but decisively, she straightened her lingers, pulled her hand away from her cheek. The cheek throbbed, pulsated with pain.

'Mama…' groaned Ciri. 'Mama… How it hurts! Mama…'

The magician touched her face. Her hand was as cold as ice. The pain stopped instantly.

'I saw…' the girl whispered, closing her eyes, 'the things I saw in the dreams… A black knight… Geralt… And also… You… I saw you, Lady Yennefer!'

'I know.'

' I saw you… I saw how-'

'Never more. You will never see that again. You won't dream about it any more. I will give you the force to push those nightmares away. That is why I have brought you here, Ciri – to show you that force. Tomorrow, I am going to start giving it to you.'

Long, arduous days followed, days of intensive study and exhausting work. Yennefer was firm, frequently stern, sometimes masterfully formidable. But she was never boring. Previously, Ciri could barely keep her eyes open in the Temple school and would

sometimes even doze off during a lesson, lulled by the monotonous, gentle voice of Nenneke, Iola the First, Hrosvitha or some other teacher. With Yennefer, it was impossible. And not only because of the timbre of the lady magician's voice and the short, sharply accentuated sentences she used. The most important element was the subject of her studies. The study of magic. Fascinating, exciting and absorbing study.

Ciri spent most of the day with Yennefer. She returned to the dormitory late at night, collapsed into bed like a log and fell asleep immediately. The novices complained that she snored very loudly and tried to wake her. In vain.

Ciri slept deeply.

With no dreams.

'Oh, gods.' Yennefer sighed in resignation and, ruffling her black hair with both hands, lowered her head. 'But it's so simple! If you can't master this move, what will happen with the harder ones?'

Ciri turned away, mumbled something in a raspy voice and massaged her stiff hand. The magician sighed once more.

'Take another look at the etching. See how your fingers should be spread. Pay attention to the explanatory arrows and runes describing how the move should be performed.'

'I've already looked at the drawing a thousand times! I understand the runes! Vort, caelme. Ys, veloe. Away from oneself, slowly. Down, quickly. The hand… like this?'

'And the little finger?'

'It's impossible to position it like that without bending the ring finger at the same time!'

'Give me your hand.'

'Ouuuch!'

'Not so loud, Ciri, otherwise Nenneke will come running again, thinking that I'm skinning you alive or frying you in oil. Don't change the position of your fingers. And now perform the gesture. Turn, turn the wrist! Good. Now shake the hand, relax the fingers. And repeat. No, no! Do you know what you did? If you were to

cast a real spell like that, you'd be wearing your hand in splints for a month! Are your hands made of wood?'

'My hand's trained to hold a sword! That's why!'

'Nonsense. Geralt has been brandishing his sword for his whole life and his fingers are agile and… mmmm… very gentle. Continue, my ugly one, try again. See? It's enough to want to. It's enough to try. Once more. Good. Shake your hand. And once again. Good. Are you tired?'

'A little…'

'Let me massage your hand and arm. Ciri, why aren't you using the ointment I gave you? Your hands are as rough as crocodile skin… But what's this? A mark left by a ring, am I right? Was I imagining it or did I forbid you to wear any jewellery?'

'But I won the ring from Myrrha playing spinning tops! And I only wore it for half a day-'

'That's half a day too long. Don't wear it any more, please.'

'I don't understand, why aren't I allowed-'

'You don't have to understand,' the magician said cutting her short, but there was no anger in her voice. Tm asking you not to wear any ornaments like that. Pin a flower in your hair if you want to. Weave a wreath for your hair. But no metal, no crystals, no stones. It's important, Ciri. When the time comes, I will explain why. For the time being, trust me and do as I ask.'

'You wear your star, earrings and rings! And I'm not allowed? Is that because I'm… a virgin?'

'Ugly one,' Yennefer smiled and stroked her on the head, 'are you still obsessed with that? I have already explained to you that it doesn't matter whether you are or not. Not in the least. Wash your hair tomorrow; it needs it, I see.'

'Lady Yennefer?'

'Yes.'

'May I… As part of the sincerity you promised… May I ask you something?'

'You may. But, by all the gods, not about virginity, please.'

Ciri bit her lip and did not say anything for a long time.

'Too bad,' sighed Yennefer. 'Let it be. Ask away.'

'Because, you see…' Ciri blushed and licked her lips, 'the girls in the dormitory are always gossiping and telling all sorts of stories… About Belleteyn's feast and others like that… And they say I'm a snotty kid, a child because it's time… Lady Yennefer, how does it really work? How can one know that the time has come…'

.'… to go to bed with a man?'

Ciri blushed a deep shade of crimson. She said nothing for a while then raised her eyes and nodded.

'It's easy to tell,' said Yennefer, naturally. 'If you are beginning to think about it then it's a sign the time has come.'

'But I don't want to!'

'It's not compulsory. You don't want to, then you don't.'

'Ah.' Ciri bit her lip again. 'And that… Well… Man… How can you tell it's the right one to…'

'… go to bed with?'

'Mmmh.'

'If you have any choice at all,' the enchantress twisted her lips in a smile, 'but don't have much experience, you first appraise the bed.'

Ciri's emerald eyes turned the shape and size of saucers.

'How's that… The bed?'

'Precisely that. Those who don't have a bed at all, you eliminate on the spot. From those who remain, you eliminate the owners of any dirty or slovenly beds. And when only those who have clean and tidy beds remain, you choose the one you find most attractive. Unfortunately, the method is not a hundred per cent foolproof. You can make a terrible mistake.'

'You're joking?'

'No. I'm not joking, Ciri. As of tomorrow, you are going to sleep here with me. Bring your things. From what I hear, too much time is wasted in the novices' dormitory on gabbling, time which would be better spent resting and sleeping.'

After mastering the basic positions of the hands, the moves and gestures, Ciri began to learn spells and their formulae. The formulae

were easier. Written in Elder Speech, which the girl already knew to perfection, they sank easily into her memory. Nor did she have any problems enunciating the frequently complicated intonations. Yennefer was clearly pleased and, from day to day, was becoming more pleasant and sympathetic. More and more frequently, taking breaks in the studies, both gossiped and joked about any old thing; both even began to amuse themselves by delicately poking fun at Nenneke who often 'visited' their lectures and exercises – bristling and puffed up like a brooding hen – ready to take Ciri under her protective wing, to protect and save her from the magician's imagined severity and the 'inhuman tortures' of her education.