‘I knew you wouldn’t forget what I did, that you would take your revenge,’ muttered Triss. ‘I accept that, because I was indeed to blame. But I have to tell you one thing, Yennefer. Don’t count too much on my swooning. He knows how to forgive.’

‘For what was done to him, indeed.’ Yennefer squinted her eyes. ‘But he’ll never forgive you for what was done to Ciri. And to me.’

‘Maybe,’ Triss swallowed. ‘Maybe he won’t. Particularly if you do your utmost to stop him. But he definitely won’t bully me. He won’t stoop to that.’

Yennefer swiped her horse with her whip. The horse whinnied, jumped and cavorted so suddenly that the sorceress swayed in the saddle.

‘That’s enough of this discussion!’ she snapped. ‘A little more humility, you arrogant slut! He’s my man, mine and only mine! Do you understand? You’re to stop talking about him, you’re to stop thinking about him, you’re to stop delighting in his noble character… Right away, at once! Oh, I feel like grabbing you by that ginger mop of hair—’

‘Just you try!’ yelled Triss. ‘Just try, you bitch, and I’ll scratch your eyes out! I—’

They fell silent, seeing Ciri hurtling towards them in a cloud of dust. They knew right away that something was afoot. And saw at once what it was. Before Ciri even reached them.

Tongues of flame suddenly shot up over the thatched roofs of the now nearby suburbs and over the tiles and chimneys of the city, and smoke belched in billows. Screaming, like the distant buzzing of annoying flies, like the droning of angry bumblebees, reached the sorceresses’ ears. The screaming grew, it increased, counterpointed by single high-pitched cries.

‘What the bloody hell is going on there?’ Yennefer stood up in the stirrups. ‘A raid? A fire?’

‘Geralt…’ Ciri suddenly groaned, becoming as white as vellum. ‘Geralt!’

‘Ciri? What’s the matter with you?’

Ciri raised her hand, and the sorceresses saw blood dribbling over it. Along the life-line.

‘The circle has closed,’ said the girl, closing her eyes. ‘A thorn from Shaerrawedd pricked me, and the snake Ouroboros has sunk its teeth into its own tail. I’m coming, Geralt! I’m coming to you! I won’t leave you alone!’

Before either of the sorceresses had time to protest, the girl had turned Kelpie around and galloped off at once.

They had enough presence of mind to immediately urge their own horses into a gallop. But their steeds were no match for Kelpie.

‘What is it?’ screamed Yennefer, gulping the wind. ‘What’s happening?’

‘But you know!’ sobbed Triss, galloping beside her. ‘Fly, Yennefer!’

Before they had dashed among the shacks of the suburbs, before they were passed by the first fugitives fleeing the town, Yennefer already had a clear enough picture of the situation to know that what was happening in Rivia wasn’t a fire, or a raid by enemy troops, but a pogrom. She also knew what Ciri had felt, where–and to whom–she was rushing so quickly. She also knew she couldn’t catch up with her. There was no chance. Kelpie had simply jumped over the panicked people crushed together into a crowd knocking off several hats and caps with her hooves. She and Triss had had to rein in their steeds so abruptly they almost tumbled over their horses’ heads.