“A marvellous demonstration of gratitude.” Yennefer snorted. “And rumour has it that it was the sorcerers who got Viraxas crowned. That they organised and financed his return. And helped him to seize power.”

“Rumour knows what it’s talking about. Viraxas will be paying the Chapter generously, and in order to do that he’s raising duty and hopes to confiscate non-humans’ property. The edict affects me personally; no other sorcerer has a house in Kerack. It’s Ildiko Breckl’s revenge. And retribution for the medical help I gave to the local women, which Viraxas’ counsellors consider immoral. The Chapter could put pressure on my behalf, but won’t. They’re not satisfied with the commercial privileges, shares in the shipyard and maritime companies acquired from Viraxas. They’re negotiating further ones and have no inention of weakening their position. Thus—now regarded as persona non grata—I shall have to emigrate to search for pastures new.”

“Which I nonetheless imagine you will do without undue regret. I’d have thought that under the present government, Kerack wouldn’t have a great chance in a competition for the most pleasant place under the sun. You’ll sell this villa and buy another. In the mountains in Lyria, for instance. The Lyrian mountains are fashionable now. Plenty of sorcerers have moved there, because it’s pretty and the taxes are reasonable.”

“I don’t like mountains. I prefer the sea. Never fear, I shall find a safe haven without much difficulty, considering my specialty. Women are everywhere and they all need me. Drink, Yennefer. Your good health.”

“You urge me to drink, but barely moisten your lips yourself. Are you perhaps ill? You don’t look very well.”

Lytta sighed theatrically.

“The last few days have been hard. The palace coup, that dreadful storm, ah… On top of that, morning sickness… I know, it’ll pass after the first trimester. But that’s not for another two months…”

It was possible to discern the buzzing of a wasp circling above an apple in the silence that fell.

“Ha, ha,” said Coral, breaking the silence. “I was joking. Pity you can’t see your face. I took you in! Ha, ha.”

Yennefer looked upwards at the ivy-covered top of the wall. For a long time.

“I took you in,” Lytta continued. “And I’ll bet your imagination was working hard at once. Admit it, you immediately linked my delicate condition with… Don’t make faces, don’t make faces. The news must have reached you, for rumours spread like ripples on the water. But relax, there isn’t a scrap of truth in them. My chances of getting pregnant are no greater than yours, nothing has changed in that regard. And all that linked me to your Witcher was business. Professional matters. Nothing else.”

“Ah.”