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Contents ( 57)
  2. Sword of Destiny
  3. THE BOUNDS OF REASON
  4. I
  5. II
  6. III
  7. IV
  8. V
  9. VI
  10. VII
  11. VIII
  12. A SHARD OF ICE
  13. I
  14. II
  15. III
  16. IV
  17. V
  18. VI
  19. VII
  20. VIII
  21. IX
  22. ETERNAL FLAME
  23. I
  24. II
  25. III
  26. IV
  27. A LITTLE SACRIFICE
  28. I
  29. II
  30. III
  31. IV
  32. V
  33. VI
  34. VII
  35. VIII
  36. IX
  37. X
  38. THE SWORD OF DESTINY
  39. I
  40. II
  41. III
  42. IV
  43. V
  44. VI
  45. VII
  46. VIII
  47. SOMETHING MORE
  48. I
  49. II
  50. III
  51. IV
  52. V
  53. VI
  54. VII
  55. VIII
  56. IX

‘Eithné, you admitted yourself that Venzlav is not a fool or a fanatic. You know, I am certain, that he is a just and peace-loving king. The blood shed here pains and troubles him…’

‘If he stays away from Brokilon not a single drop of blood shall be shed.’

‘You well know…’ Geralt raised his head.’ You well know it is not thus. People have been killed in Burnt Stump, in Eight-Mile, in the Owl Hills. People have been killed in Brugge and on the left bank of the Ribbon. Beyond Brokilon.’

‘The places you have mentioned,’ the dryad responded calmly, ‘are Brokilon. I do not recognise human maps or borders.’

‘But the forest was cleared there a hundred summers ago!’

‘What is a hundred summers to Brokilon? Or a hundred winters?’

Geralt fell silent.

The dryad put down the comb and stroked Ciri’s mousy hair.

‘Agree to Venzlav’s proposal, Eithné.’

The dryad looked at him coldly.

‘How shall we profit by that? We, the children of Brokilon?’

‘With the chance of survival. No, Eithné, do not interrupt. I know what you would say. I understand your pride in Brokilon’s sovereignty. Nonetheless, the world is changing. Something is ending. Whether you like it or not, man’s dominion over this world is a fact. Only those who assimilate with humans will survive. The rest will perish. Eithné, there are forests where dryads, rusalkas and elves live peacefully, having come to agreement with humans. We are so close to each other, after all. Men can be the fathers of your children. What will you gain through this war you are waging? The potential fathers of your children are perishing from your arrows. And what is the result? How many of Brokilon’s dryads are pure-blood? How many of them are abducted human girls you have modified? You even have to make use of Frexinet, because you have no choice. I seem to see few tiny dryads, Eithné. I see only her; a little human girl, terrified, dulled by narcotics, paralysed by fear—’

‘I’m not afraid at all!’ Ciri suddenly cried, assuming her little devil face for a moment. ‘And I’m not parrotised! So you’d better watch your step! Nothing can happen to me here. Be sure! I’m not afraid. My grandmamma says that dryads aren’t evil, and my grandmamma is the wisest woman in the world! My grandmamma… My grandmamma says there should be more forests like this one…’

She fell silent and lowered her head. Eithné laughed.

‘A Child of the Elder Blood,’ she said. ‘Yes, Geralt. There are still being born Children of the Elder Blood, of whom the prophesies speak. And you tell me that something is ending… You worry whether we shall survive—’

‘The scamp was supposed to marry Kistrin of Verden,’ Geralt interrupted. ‘It’s a pity it will not be. Kistrin will one day succeed Ervyll, and were he influenced by a wife with such views, perhaps he would cease raids on Brokilon?’

‘I don’t want that Kistrin!’ the little girl screamed shrilly, and something flashed in her green eyes. ‘Kistrin can go and find some gorgeous, stupid material! I’m not material! I won’t be a princess!’