Blood Of Elves (38 page)

chest of drawers, pulled out an old leather bag, a belt, two boots trimmed with fur and a clay demi-john in a wicker basket. Ciri heard her curse under her breath while smiling, and saw her hide the finds back in the drawers. She guessed whose they were. Who had left them there.

‘What does that mean, as long as I want?’ she asked. ‘If I get bored or don’t like the work—’

‘We’ll put an end to it. It’s enough that you tell me. Or show me.’

‘Show you? How?’

‘Should we decide on educating you, I will demand absolute obedience. I repeat: absolute. If, on the other hand, you get tired of it, it will suffice for you to disobey. Then the lessons will instantly cease. Is that clear?’

Ciri nodded and cast a fleeting glance of her green eyes at the magician.

‘Secondly,’ continued Yennefer, unpacking her saddle-bags, ‘1 will demand absolute sincerity. You will not be allowed to hide anything from me. Anything. So if you feel you have had enough, it will suffice for you to lie, pretend, feign or close in on yourself. If I ask you something and you do not answer sincerely, that will also indicate an instant end to our lessons. Have you understood?’

‘Yes,’ muttered Ciri. ‘And that . . . sincerity . . . Does that work both ways? Will I be able to . . . ask you questions?’

Yennefer looked at her and her lips twisted strangely.

‘Of course,’ she answered after a while. ‘That goes without saying. That will be the basis of the learning and protection I aim to give you. Sincerity works both ways. You are to ask me questions. At any time. And I will answer. Sincerely.’

‘Any question?’

‘Any question.’

‘As of now?’

‘Yes. As of now.’

‘What is there between you and Geralt, Lady Yennefer?’

Ciri almost fainted, horrified at her own impertinence, chilled by the silence which followed the question.

The enchantress slowly approached her, placed her hands on her shoulders, looked her in the eyes from up close – and deeply.

‘Longing,’ she answered gravely. ‘Regret. Hope. And fear. Yes, I don’t think I have omitted anything. Well, now we can get on with the tests, you little green-eyed viper. We will see if you’re cut out for this. Although after your question I would be very surprised if it turned out you aren’t. Let’s go, my ugly one.’

Ciri bridled.

‘Why do you call me that?’

Yennefer smiled with the corners of her lips.

‘I promised to be sincere.’

Ciri, annoyed, pulled herself up straight and wriggled in her hard chair which, after many hours of sitting, hurt her backside.

‘Nothing’s going to come of it!’ she snarled, wiping her charcoal-smeared fingers on the table. ‘After all this, nothing . . . Nothing works out for me! I’m not cut out to be a magician! I knew that right from the start but you didn’t want to listen to me! You didn’t pay any attention!’

Yennefer raised her eyebrows.

‘I didn’t want to listen to you, you say? That’s interesting. I usually devote my attention to every sentence uttered in my presence and note it in my memory. The one condition being that there be at least a little sense in the sentence.’

‘You’re always mocking me.’ Ciri grated her teeth. ‘And I just wanted to tell you . . . Well, about these abilities. You see in Kaer Morhen, in the mountains … I couldn’t form a single witcher Sign. Not one!’

‘I know.’

You know?’

‘I know. But that doesn’t mean anything.’

‘How’s that? Well . . . But that’s not all!’

‘I’m listening in suspense.’

‘I’m not cut out for it. Can’t you understand that? I’m . . . I’m too young.’

‘I was younger than you when I started.’

‘But I’m sure you weren’t . . .’

‘What do you mean, girl? Stop stuttering! At least one full sentence, please.’

‘Because . . .’ Ciri lowered her head and blushed. ‘Because Iola, Myrrha, Eurneid and Katye — when we were having dinner — laughed at me and said that witchcraft doesn’t have access to me and that I’m not going to perform any magic because . . . Because I’m … a virgin, that means—’

‘I know what it means, believe it or not,’ interrupted the magician. ‘No doubt you’ll see this as another spiteful piece of mockery but I hate to tell you that you are talking a lot of rubbish. Let us get back to the test.’

‘I’m a virgin!’ repeated Ciri aggressively. ‘Why the tests? Virgins can’t do magic!’

‘I can’t see a solution,’ Yennefer leaned back in her chair. ‘So go out and lose your virginity if it gets in your way so much, But be quick about it if you please.’

‘Are you making fun of me?’

‘You’ve noticed?’ The magician smiled faintly. ‘Congratulations. You’ve passed the preliminary test in perspicacity. And now for the real test. Concentrate, please. Look: there are four pine trees in this picture. Each one has a different number of branches. Draw a fifth to fit in with the other four and to fit in this space here.’

‘Pine trees are silly,’ decreed Ciri, sticking out her tongue and drawing a slightly crooked tree with her charcoal. And boring! I can’t understand what pine trees have to do with magic? What? Lady Yennefer! You promised to answer my questions!’

‘Unfortunately,’ sighed the magician, picking up the sheet of paper and critically appraising the drawing, ‘I think I’m going to regret that promise. What do pine trees have in common with magic? Nothing. But you’ve drawn it correctly, and on time. In truth, excellent for a virgin.’

Are you laughing at me?’

No. I rarely laugh. I really need to have a good reason to laugh. Concentrate on the next page, Surprise. There are rows of stars, circles, crosses and triangles drawn on it, a different number of

each shape in each row. Think and answer: how many stars should there be in the last row?’

‘Stars are silly!’

‘How many?’

‘Three!’

Yennefer did not say anything for a long time. She stared at a detail on the carved wardrobe door known only to her. The mischievous smile on Ciri’s lips started slowly to disappear until finally it disappeared altogether, without a trace.

‘No doubt you were curious to learn,’ said the magician very slowly, not ceasing to admire the wardrobe, ‘what would happen if you gave me a senseless and stupid reply. You thought perhaps that I might not notice because I am not in the least interested in your answers? You thought wrongly. You believed, perhaps, that I would simply accept that you are stupid? You were wrong. But if you are bored of being tested and wanted, for a change, to test me . . . Well, that has clearly worked, hasn’t it? Either way, this test is concluded. Return the paper.’

‘I’m sorry, Lady Yennefer.’ The girl lowered her head. ‘There should, of course, be . . . one star there. I’m very sorry. Please don’t be angry with me.’

‘Look at me, Ciri.’

The girl raised her eyes, astonished. Because for the first time the magician had called her by her name.

‘Ciri,’ said Yennefer. ‘Know that, despite appearances, I get angry just as rarely as I laugh. You haven’t made me angry. But in apologising you have proved I wasn’t wrong about you. And now take the next sheet of paper. As you can see there are five houses on it. Draw the sixth . . .’

‘Again? I really can’t understand why—’

‘. . . the sixth house.’ The lady magician’s voice changed dangerously and her eyes flashed with a violet glow. ‘Here, in this space. Don’t make me repeat myself, please.’

After apples, pine trees, stars, fishes and houses, came the turn of labyrinths through which she had to quickly find a path, wavy

lines, blots which looked like squashed cockroaches, and mosaics which made her go cross-eyed and set her head spinning. Then there was a shining ball on a piece of string at which she had to stare for a long time. Staring at it was as dull as dish-water and Ciri kept falling asleep. Yennefer, surprisingly, did not care even though a few days earlier she had scolded her grimly for napping over one of the cockroach blots.

Pouring over the tests had made her neck and back ache and day by day they grew more painful. She missed movement and fresh air and, obliged to be sincere, she immediately told Yennefer. The magician took it easily, as if she had been expecting this for a long time.

For the next two days they both ran through the park, jumped over ditches and fences under the amused or pitying eyes of the priestesses and novices. They exercised and practised their balance walking along the top of the wall which encircled the orchard and farm buildings. Unlike the training in Kaer Morhen, though, the exercises with Yennefer were always accompanied by theory. The magician taught Ciri how to breathe, guiding the movement of her chest and diaphragm with strong pressure frorn her hand. She explained the rules of movement, how muscles and bones work, and demonstrated how to rest, release tension and relax.

During one such session of relaxation, stretched out on the grass and gazing at the sky, Ciri asked a question which was bothering her. ‘Lady Yennefer? When are we finally going to finish the tests?’

‘Do they bore you so much?’

‘No . . . But I’d like to know whether I’m cut out to be a magician.’

‘You are.’

‘You know that already?’

‘I knew from the start. Few people can detect the activity of my star. Very few. You noticed it straight away.’

‘And the tests?’

‘Concluded. I already know what I wanted to about you.’

‘But some of the tasks . . . They didn’t work out very well. You

said yourself that . . . Are you really sure? You’re not mistaken? You’re sure I have the ability?’

‘I’m sure.’

‘But—’

‘Ciri.’ The enchantress looked both amused and impatient. ‘From the moment we lay down in the meadow, I have been talking to you without using my voice. It’s called telepathy, remember that. And as you no doubt noticed, it has not made our talking together any more difficult.’

‘Magic’ – Yennefer, her eyes fixed on the sky above the hills, rested her hands on the pommel of her saddle – ‘is, in some people’s opinion, the embodiment of Chaos. It is a key capable of opening the forbidden door. The door behind which lurk nightmares, fear and unimaginable horrors, behind which enemies hide and wait, destructive powers, the forces of pure Evil capable of annihilating not only the one who opens the door but with them the entire world. And since there is no lack of those who try to open the door, someone, at some point, is going to make a mistake and then the destruction of the world will be forejudged and inevitable. Magic is, therefore, the revenge and the weapon of Chaos. The fact that, following the Conjunction of the Spheres, people have learned to use magic, is the curse and undoing of the world. The undoing of mankind. And that’s how it is, Ciri. Those who believe that magic is Chaos are not mistaken.’

Spurred on by its mistress’s heels, the magician’s black stallion neighed lengthily and slowly made his way into the heather. Ciri hastened her horse, followed in Yennefer’s tracks and caught up with her. The heather reached to their stirrups.

‘Magic,’ Yennefer continued after a while, ‘is, in some people’s opinion, art. Great, elitist art, capable of creating beautiful and extraordinary things. Magic is a talent granted to only a chosen few. Others, deprived of talent, can only look at the results of the artists’ works with admiration and envy, can admire the finished work while feeling that without these creations and without this talent the world would be a poorer place. The fact that, following

the Conjunction of the Spheres, some chosen few discovered talent and magic within themselves, the fact that they found Art within themselves, is the blessing of beauty. And that’s how it is. Those who believe that magic is art are also right.’

On the long bare hill which protruded from the heath like the back of some lurking predator lay an enormous boulder supported by a few smaller stones. The magician guided her horse in its direction without pausing her lecture.

‘There are also those according to whom magic is a science. In order to master it, talent and innate ability alone are not enough. Years of keen study and arduous work are essential; endurance and self-discipline are necessary. Magic acquired like this is knowledge, learning, the limits of which are constantly stretched by enlightened and vigorous minds, by experience, experiments and practice. Magic acquired in such a way is progress. It is the plough, the loom, the watermill, the smelting furnace, the winch and the pulley. It is progress, evolution, change. It is constant movement. Upwards. Towards improvement. Towards the stars. The fact that following the Conjunction of the Spheres we discovered magic will, one day, allow us to reach the stars. Dismount, Ciri.’

Yennefer approached the monolith, placed her palm on the coarse surface of the stone and carefully brushed away the dust and dry leaves.

‘Those who consider magic to be a science,’ she continued, ‘are also right. Remember that, Ciri. And now come here, to me.’

The girl swallowed and came closer. The enchantress put her arm around her.

‘Remember,’ she repeated, ‘magic is Chaos, Art and Science. It is a curse, a blessing and progress. It all depends on who uses magic, how they use it, and to what purpose. And magic is everywhere. All around us. Easily accessible. It is enough to stretch out one’s hand. See? I’m stretching out my hand.’

The cromlech trembled perceptibly. Ciri heard a dull, distant noise and a rumble coming from within the earth. The heather undulated, flattened by the gale which suddenly gusted across the hill. The sky abruptly turned dark, covered with clouds scudding

across it at incredible speed. The girl felt drops of rain on her face. She narrowed her eyes against the flash of lightning which suddenly flared across the horizon. She automatically huddled up to the enchantress, against her black hair smelling of lilac and gooseberries.

‘The earth which we tread. The fire which does not go out within it. The water from which all life is born and without which life is not possible. The air we breathe. It is enough to stretch out one’s hand to master them, to subjugate them. Magic is everywhere. It is in air, in water, in earth and in fire. And it is behind the door which the Conjunction of the Spheres has closed on us. From there, from behind the closed door, magic sometimes extends its hand to us. For us. You know that, don’t you? You have already felt the touch of that magic, the touch of the hand from behind that door. That touch filled you with fear. Such a touch fills everyone with fear. Because there is Chaos and Order, Good and Evil in all of us. But it is possible and necessary to control it. This has to be learnt. And you will learn it, Ciri. That is why I brought you here, to this stone which, from time immemorial, has stood at the crossing of veins of power pulsating with force. Touch it.’