‘In the light of day…’ he groaned. ‘Tomorrow, in the sunshine, I’ll look into your eyes, Visenna… And I’ll ask you my question. Or perhaps I won’t ask you, because it’s too late. Destiny? Oh, yes, Yen was right. It’s not sufficient to be destined for each other. Something more is needed… But tomorrow I’ll look into your eyes… In the light of the sun…’

‘No,’ she said gently, quietly, velvety, in a voice which gnawed at, racked the layers of memory, memory which no longer existed. Which should never have existed, but had.

‘Yes!’ he protested. ‘Yes. I want to—’

‘No. Now you will fall asleep. And when you awake, you’ll stop wanting. Why should we look at each other in the sunlight? What will it change? Nothing can now be reversed, nothing changed. What’s the purpose of asking me questions, Geralt? Does knowing that I won’t be able to answer give you some kind of perverse pleasure? What will mutual hurt give us? No, we won’t look at each other in the daylight. Go to sleep, Geralt. And just between us, Vesemir did not give you that name. Although it doesn’t change or reverse anything either, I’d like you to know that. Farewell and look after yourself. And don’t try to look for me…’

‘Visenna—’

‘No, Geralt. Now you’ll fall asleep. And I… I was a dream. Farewell.’

‘No! Visenna!’

‘Sleep.’ There was a soft order in her velvety voice, breaking his will, tearing it like cloth. Warmth, suddenly emanating from her hands.

‘Sleep.’

He slept.

VI

‘Are we in Riverdell yet, Yurga?’

‘Have been since yesterday, sir. Soon the River Yaruga and then my homeland. Look, even the horses are walking more jauntily, tossing their heads. They can sense home is near.’

‘Home… Do you live in the city?’

‘No, outside the walls.’

‘Interesting,’ the Witcher said, looking around. ‘There’s almost no trace of war damage. I had heard this land was devastated.’

‘Well,’ Yurga said. ‘One thing we’re not short of is ruins. Take a closer look–on almost every cottage, in every homestead, you can see the white timber of new joinery. And over there on the far bank, just look, it was even worse, everything was burned right down to the ground… Well, war’s war, but life must go on. We endured the greatest turmoil when the Black Forces marched through our land. True enough, it looked then as though they’d turn everything here into a wasteland. Many of those who fled then never returned. But fresh people have settled in their place. Life must go on.’

‘That’s a fact,’ Geralt muttered. ‘Life must go on. It doesn’t matter what happened. Life must go on…’

‘You’re right. Right, there you are, put them on. I’ve mended your britches, patched them up. They’ll be good as new. It’s just like this land, sir. It was rent by war, ploughed up as if by the iron of a harrow, ripped up, bloodied. But now it’ll be good as new. And it will be even more fertile. Even those who rotted in the ground will serve the good and fertilise the soil. Presently it is hard to plough, because the fields are full of bones and ironware, but the earth can cope with iron too.’