‘And is that the end of the story?’ Galahad asked a moment later.

‘Not at all,’ protested Ciri, rubbing one foot against the other, wiping off the dried sand that had stuck to her toes and the sole of her foot. ‘Would you like the story to end like that? Like hell! I wouldn’t!’

‘So what happened then?’

‘Nothing special,’ she snorted. ‘They got married.’

‘Tell me.’

‘Aaah, what is there to tell? There was a great big wedding. They all came: Dandelion, Mother Nenneke, Iola and Eurneid, Yarpen Zigrin, Vesemir, Eskel… Coën, Milva, Angoulême… And my Mistle… And I was there, I drank mead and wine. And they, I mean Geralt and Yennefer, had their own house afterwards and were happy, very, very happy. Like in a fairy tale. Do you understand?’

‘Why are you weeping like that, O Lady of the Lake?’

‘I’m not weeping at all. My eyes are watering from the wind. And that’s that!’

They were silent for a long time, and looked as the red-hot glowing ball of the sun touched the mountain peaks.

‘Indeed—’ Galahad finally interrupted the silence ‘—it was a very strange story, oh, very strange. Truly, Miss Ciri, the world you came from is incredible.’

Ciri sniffed loudly.

‘Yeees,’ continued Galahad, clearing his throat several times, feeling a little uncomfortable by her silence. ‘But astounding adventures also occur here, in our world. Let’s take, for instance, what happened to Sir Gawain and the Green Knight… Or to my uncle, Sir Bors, and Sir Tristan… Just consider, Lady Ciri, Sir Bors and Sir Tristan set off one day for the West, towards Tintagel. The road led them through forests untamed and perilous. They rode and rode, and looked, and there stood a white hind, and beside it a lady, dressed in black. Truly a blacker black you couldn’t even see in nightmares. And that comely lady, so comely you couldn’t see a comelier one in the whole world, well, apart from Queen Guinevere… That lady standing by the hind saw the knights, beckoned and spake thus to them…’

‘Galahad.’

‘Yes?’

‘Be quiet.’

He coughed, cleared his throat and fell silent. They were both silent, looking at the sun. They were silent for a long time.

‘Lady of the Lake?’

‘I’ve asked you not to call me that.’

‘Lady Ciri?’

‘Yes.’

‘Ride with me to Camelot, O Lady Ciri. King Arthur, you’ll see, will show you honour and respect… While I… I shall always love you and revere you—’

‘Get up from your knee, at once! Or maybe not. If you’re there, rub my feet. They’re really frozen. Thank you. You’re sweet. I said my feet! My feet finish at the ankles!’

‘Lady Ciri?’

‘I haven’t gone anywhere.’

‘The day is drawing to a close…’