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 something terribly clever… Jarre reads various learned books and knows it all, but I think…”
“It interests me, what you think, Ciri.”
“In Cintra… That time… Lady Yennefer, my grandmother was much cleverer than Jarre. King Eist was clever, too. He sailed the seas, saw everything, even a narwhal and sea serpent, and I bet he also saw many an analogy. And so what? Suddenly they appeared, the Nilfgaardians…”
Ciri raised her head and her voice stuck in her throat. Yennefer put her arms around her and hugged her tightly.
“Unfortunately,” she said quietly, “unfortunately, you’re right, my ugly one. If the ability to make use of experience and draw conclusions decided, we would have forgotten what war is a long time ago. But those whose goal is war have never been held back, nor will be, by experience or analogy.”
“So… It’s true, after all. There is going to be a war. Is that why we have to leave?”
“Let’s not talk about it. Let’s not worry too soon.”
Ciri sniffed.
“I’ve already seen a war,” she whispered. “I don’t want to see another. Never. I don’t want to be alone again. I don’t want to be frightened. I don’t want to lose everything again, like that time. I don’t want to lose Geralt… or you, Lady Yennefer. I don’t want to lose you. I want to stay with you. And him. Always.”
“You will.” The magician’s voice trembled a little. “And I’m going to be with you, Ciri. Always. I promise you.”
***
“How long are you going to edu— Teach me for?”
“As long as you want.” The magician leaned over, opened the 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, “I 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.”
