The theatre, brewery and granary he owned were insured, naturally. The problem was that the insurance company was also owned by Houvenaghel. Nothing, not even a tax swindle, could have made good even a fraction of the losses.

‘Where to now?’ asked Geralt, looking at the column of smoke, a smudged streak discolouring the sky glowing pink in the dawn. ‘Who do you still have to pay back, Ciri?’

She glanced at him and he immediately regretted his question. He suddenly desired to hug her, dreamed of embracing her, cuddling her, stroking her hair. Protecting her. Never allowing her to be alone again. To encounter evil. To encounter anything that would make her desire revenge.

Yennefer remained silent. Yennefer had spent a lot of time silent lately.

‘Now,’ Ciri said calmly, ‘we’re going to ride to a settlement called Unicorn. The name comes from a straw unicorn: the poor, ridiculous, miserable effigy that looks after the village. I want the residents to have, as a souvenir of what happened, a… Well, if not a more valuable, then at least a more tasteful totem. I’m counting on your help, Yennefer, for without magic…’

‘I know, Ciri. And after that?’

‘The swamps of Pereplut. I hope I can find my way… To a cottage amidst the swamps. We’ll find the remains of a man in a cottage. I want those remains to be buried in a decent grave.’

Geralt still said nothing. And didn’t lower his gaze.

‘After that,’ Ciri continued, holding his stare without the slightest difficulty, ‘we’ll stop by the settlement of Dun Dare. The inn there was probably burned down, and the innkeeper may have been murdered. Because of me. Hatred and vengeance blinded me. I shall try somehow to make it up to his family.’

‘There’s no way of doing that,’ he said, still looking.

‘I know,’ she replied at once, hard, almost angrily. ‘But I shall stand before them in humility. I shall remember the expression in their eyes. I hope the memory of those eyes will stop me making a similar mistake. Do you understand that, Geralt?’

‘He understands, Ciri,’ said Yennefer. ‘Both of us, believe us, understand you very well, daughter. Let’s go.’

The horses bore them like the wind. Like a magical gale. Alarmed by the three riders flashing by, a traveller on the road raised his head. A merchant on a cart with his wares, a villain fleeing from the law, and a wandering settler driven by politicians from the land he had settled, having believed other politicians, all raised their heads. A vagabond, a deserter and a pilgrim with a staff raised their heads. They raised their heads, amazed, alarmed. Uncertain of what they had seen.