[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
was really something. I don't know if she was a Source or not, but no one suspected she had
any power at all until, save by a hair's breadth, she almost reduced the royal castle of Cintra to
ashes.'
'We should assume, therefore,' said Eskel, lighting the candles in yet another candle-stick,
'that Ciri could, indeed, be genetically burdened.'
'Not only could,' said Vesemir, 'she is so burdened. On the one hand Lambert is right. Ciri is
not capable of forming Signs. On the other . . . We have all seen . . .'
He fell silent and looked at Ciri who, with a joyful squeal, acknowledged that she had the
upper hand in the game. Triss spied a small smile on Coen's face and was sure he had allowed
her to win.
'Precisely,' she sneered. 'You have all seen. What have you seen? Under what circumstances
did you see it? Don't you think, boys, that the time has come for more truthful confessions?
Hell, I repeat, I will keep your secret. You have my word.'
Lambert glanced at Geralt; Geralt nodded in assent. The younger witcher stood and took a
large rectangular crystal carafe and a smaller phial from a high shelf. He poured the contents
of the
phial into the carafe, shook it several times and poured the transparent liquid into the chalices
on the table.
'Have a drink with us, Triss.'
'Is the truth so terrible,' she mocked, 'that we can't talk about it soberly? Do I have to get
drunk in order to hear it?'
'Don't be such a know-all. Take a sip. You will find it easier to understand.'
'What is it?'
'White Seagull.'
What?'
'A mild remedy,' Eskel smiled, 'for pleasant dreams.'
'Damn it! A witcher hallucinogenic? That's why your eyes shine like that in the evenings!'
'White Seagull is very gentle. It's Black Seagull that is hallucinogenic'
'If there's magic in this liquid I'm not allowed to take it!'
'Exclusively natural ingredients,' Geralt reassured her but he looked, she noticed,
disconcerted. He was clearly afraid she would question them about the elixir's ingredients.
'And diluted with a great deal of water. We would not offer you anything that could harm
you.'
The sparkling liquid, with its strange taste, struck her throat with its chill and then dispersed
warmth throughout her body. The magician ran her tongue over her gums and palate. She was
unable to recognise any of the ingredients.
'You gave Ciri some of this . . . Seagull to drink,' she surmised. And then '
'It was an accident,' Geralt interrupted quickly. 'That first evening, just after we arrived . . .
she was thirsty, and the Seagull stood on the table. Before we had time to react, she had drunk
it all in one go. And fallen into a trance.'
We had such a fright,' Vesemir admitted, and sighed. 'Oh, that we did, child. More than we
could take.'
'She started speaking with another voice,' the magician stated calmly, looking at the witchers'
eyes gleaming in the candlelight. 'She started talking about events and matters of which she
could
have no knowledge. She started ... to prophesy. Right? What did she say?'
'Rubbish,' said Lambert dryly. 'Senseless drivel.'
'Then I have no doubt' - she looked straight at him - 'that you understood each other perfectly
well. Drivel is your speciality -and I am further convinced of it every time you open your
mouth. Do me a great favour and don't open it for a while, all right?'
'This once,' said Eskel gravely, rubbing the scar across his cheek, 'Lambert is right, Triss.
After drinking Seagull Ciri really was incomprehensible. That first time it was gibberish. Only
after '
He broke off. Triss shook her head.
'It was only the second time that she started talking sense,' she guessed. 'So there was a second
time, too. Also after she drank a drug because of your carelessness?'
'Triss.' Geralt raised his head. 'This is not the time for your childish spitefulness. It doesn't
amuse us. It worries and upsets us. Yes, there was a second time, too, and a third. Ciri fell,
quite by accident, during an exercise. She lost consciousness. When she regained it, she had
fallen into another trance. And once again she spoke nonsense. Again it was not her voice.
And again it was incomprehensible. But I have heard similar voices before, heard a similar
way of speaking. It's how those poor, sick, demented women known as oracles speak. You see
what I'm thinking?'
'Clearly. That was the second time, get to the third.'
Geralt wiped his brow, suddenly beaded with sweat, on his forearm. 'Ciri often wakes up at
night,' he continued. 'Shouting. She has been through a lot. She does not want to talk about it
but it is clear that she saw things no child should see in Cintra and Angren. I even fear that . . .
that someone harmed her. It comes back to her in dreams. Usually she is easy to reassure and
she falls asleep without any problem . . . But once, after waking . . . she was in a trance again.
She again spoke with someone else's, unpleasant, menacing voice. She spoke clearly and
made sense. She prophesied. Foresaw the future. And what she foretold . . .'
'What? What, Geralt?' [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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was really something. I don't know if she was a Source or not, but no one suspected she had
any power at all until, save by a hair's breadth, she almost reduced the royal castle of Cintra to
ashes.'
'We should assume, therefore,' said Eskel, lighting the candles in yet another candle-stick,
'that Ciri could, indeed, be genetically burdened.'
'Not only could,' said Vesemir, 'she is so burdened. On the one hand Lambert is right. Ciri is
not capable of forming Signs. On the other . . . We have all seen . . .'
He fell silent and looked at Ciri who, with a joyful squeal, acknowledged that she had the
upper hand in the game. Triss spied a small smile on Coen's face and was sure he had allowed
her to win.
'Precisely,' she sneered. 'You have all seen. What have you seen? Under what circumstances
did you see it? Don't you think, boys, that the time has come for more truthful confessions?
Hell, I repeat, I will keep your secret. You have my word.'
Lambert glanced at Geralt; Geralt nodded in assent. The younger witcher stood and took a
large rectangular crystal carafe and a smaller phial from a high shelf. He poured the contents
of the
phial into the carafe, shook it several times and poured the transparent liquid into the chalices
on the table.
'Have a drink with us, Triss.'
'Is the truth so terrible,' she mocked, 'that we can't talk about it soberly? Do I have to get
drunk in order to hear it?'
'Don't be such a know-all. Take a sip. You will find it easier to understand.'
'What is it?'
'White Seagull.'
What?'
'A mild remedy,' Eskel smiled, 'for pleasant dreams.'
'Damn it! A witcher hallucinogenic? That's why your eyes shine like that in the evenings!'
'White Seagull is very gentle. It's Black Seagull that is hallucinogenic'
'If there's magic in this liquid I'm not allowed to take it!'
'Exclusively natural ingredients,' Geralt reassured her but he looked, she noticed,
disconcerted. He was clearly afraid she would question them about the elixir's ingredients.
'And diluted with a great deal of water. We would not offer you anything that could harm
you.'
The sparkling liquid, with its strange taste, struck her throat with its chill and then dispersed
warmth throughout her body. The magician ran her tongue over her gums and palate. She was
unable to recognise any of the ingredients.
'You gave Ciri some of this . . . Seagull to drink,' she surmised. And then '
'It was an accident,' Geralt interrupted quickly. 'That first evening, just after we arrived . . .
she was thirsty, and the Seagull stood on the table. Before we had time to react, she had drunk
it all in one go. And fallen into a trance.'
We had such a fright,' Vesemir admitted, and sighed. 'Oh, that we did, child. More than we
could take.'
'She started speaking with another voice,' the magician stated calmly, looking at the witchers'
eyes gleaming in the candlelight. 'She started talking about events and matters of which she
could
have no knowledge. She started ... to prophesy. Right? What did she say?'
'Rubbish,' said Lambert dryly. 'Senseless drivel.'
'Then I have no doubt' - she looked straight at him - 'that you understood each other perfectly
well. Drivel is your speciality -and I am further convinced of it every time you open your
mouth. Do me a great favour and don't open it for a while, all right?'
'This once,' said Eskel gravely, rubbing the scar across his cheek, 'Lambert is right, Triss.
After drinking Seagull Ciri really was incomprehensible. That first time it was gibberish. Only
after '
He broke off. Triss shook her head.
'It was only the second time that she started talking sense,' she guessed. 'So there was a second
time, too. Also after she drank a drug because of your carelessness?'
'Triss.' Geralt raised his head. 'This is not the time for your childish spitefulness. It doesn't
amuse us. It worries and upsets us. Yes, there was a second time, too, and a third. Ciri fell,
quite by accident, during an exercise. She lost consciousness. When she regained it, she had
fallen into another trance. And once again she spoke nonsense. Again it was not her voice.
And again it was incomprehensible. But I have heard similar voices before, heard a similar
way of speaking. It's how those poor, sick, demented women known as oracles speak. You see
what I'm thinking?'
'Clearly. That was the second time, get to the third.'
Geralt wiped his brow, suddenly beaded with sweat, on his forearm. 'Ciri often wakes up at
night,' he continued. 'Shouting. She has been through a lot. She does not want to talk about it
but it is clear that she saw things no child should see in Cintra and Angren. I even fear that . . .
that someone harmed her. It comes back to her in dreams. Usually she is easy to reassure and
she falls asleep without any problem . . . But once, after waking . . . she was in a trance again.
She again spoke with someone else's, unpleasant, menacing voice. She spoke clearly and
made sense. She prophesied. Foresaw the future. And what she foretold . . .'
'What? What, Geralt?' [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]