‘No, Yennefer,’ Triss’s voice was very calm. And very cold.

‘They’ll kill us…’

‘No, Yennefer. I shan’t run away. I shan’t hide behind the Lodge’s skirts. And don’t worry, I shan’t faint from fear like I did at Sodden. I shall vanquish it inside me. I’ve already vanquished it!’

A great pile of compost, dung and waste in a recess of moss-covered walls rose up near the exit of the narrow street. It was a magnificent pile. A hill, one could say.

The crowd had finally succeeded in seizing and immobilising the knight and his horse. He was knocked to the ground with a terrible thud and the mob crawled over him like lice, covering him in a moving layer.

After hauling Yennefer up, Triss stood on the top of the pile of garbage and raised her arms in the air. She screamed out a spell; screamed it out with true fury. So piercingly that the crowd fell silent for a split second.

‘They’ll kill us,’ Yennefer spat blood. ‘As sure as anything…’

‘Help me.’ Triss interrupted the incantation for a moment. ‘Help me, Yennefer. We’ll cast Alzur’s Thunder at them.’

And we’ll kill about five of them, thought Yennefer. Then the rest will tear us to pieces. But very well, Triss, as you wish. If you don’t run away, you won’t see me running away.

She joined in the incantation. The two of them screamed.

The crowd stared at them for a second, but quickly came to their senses. Stones whistled around the sorceresses again. A javelin flew just beside Triss’s temple. Triss didn’t even flinch.

It isn’t working at all, thought Yennefer, our spell isn’t working at all. We don’t have a chance of casting anything as complicated as Alzur’s Thunder. Alzur, it is claimed, had a voice like a bell and the diction of an orator. And we’re squeaking and mumbling, mixing up the words and the intonation pattern.

She was ready to interrupt the chant and concentrate the rest of her strength on some other spell, capable either of teleporting them both away, or treating the charging rabble–for a split second at least–to something unpleasant. But it turned out there was no need.

The sky suddenly darkened and clouds teemed above the town. It became devilishly sombre. And there was a cold wind.

‘Oh my,’ Yennefer groaned. ‘I think we’ve stirred something up.’

‘Merigold’s Destructive Hailstorm,’ repeated Nimue. ‘Actually that name is used illegally. The spell was never registered, because no one ever managed to repeat it after Triss Merigold. For mundane reasons. Triss’s mouth was cut and she was speaking indistinctly. Malicious people claim, furthermore, that her tongue was faltering from fear.’