“She was too possessive,” he muttered, turning away his face. “I couldn’t stand it. She treated me like—”

“Stop it,” she said sharply. “Don’t cry on my shoulder. I’m not your mother, and I won’t be your confidante either. I don’t give a shit how she treated you and I care even less how you treated her. And I don’t intend to be a go-between or give these stupid jewels to her. If you want to be a fool, do it without using me as an intermediary.”

“You misunderstand. I’m not thinking of appeasing or bribing her. But I do owe her something, and the treatment she wants to undergo is apparently very costly. I want to help her, that’s all.”

“You’re more of an idiot than I thought.” Nenneke picked up the basket from the ground. “A costly treatment? Help? Geralt, these jewels of yours are, to her, knickknacks not worth spitting on. Do you know how much Yennefer can earn for getting rid of an unwanted pregnancy for a great lady?”

“I do happen to know. And that she earns even more for curing infertility. It’s a shame she can’t help herself in that respect. That’s why she’s seeking help from others—like you.”

“No one can help her; it’s impossible. She’s a sorceress. Like most female magicians, her ovaries are atrophied and it’s irreversible. She’ll never be able to have children.”

“Not all sorceresses are handicapped in this respect. I know something about that, and you do, too.”

Nenneke closed her eyes. “Yes, I do.”

“Something can’t be a rule if there are exceptions to it. And please don’t give me any banal untruths about exceptions proving the rule. Tell me something about exceptions as such.”

“Only one thing,” she said coldly, “can be said about exceptions. They exist. Nothing more. But Yennefer… Well, unfortunately, she isn’t an exception. At least not as regards the handicap we’re talking about. In other respects it’s hard to find a greater exception than her.”

“Sorcerers”—Geralt wasn’t put off by Nenneke’s coldness, or her allusion—“have raised the dead. I know of proven cases. And it seems to me that raising the dead is harder than reversing the atrophy of any organs.”

“You’re mistaken. Because I don’t know of one single, proven, fully successful case of reversing atrophy or regenerating endocrine glands. Geralt, that’s enough. This is beginning to sound like a consultation. You don’t know anything about these things. I do. And if I tell you that Yennefer has paid for certain gifts by losing others, then that’s how it is.”

“If it’s so clear, then I don’t understand why she keeps on trying to—”

“You understand very little,” interrupted the priestess. “Bloody little. Stop worrying about Yennefer’s complaints and think about your own. Your body was also subjected to changes which are irreversible. She surprises you, but what about you? It ought to be clear to you too, that you’re never going to be human, but you still keep trying to be one. Making human mistakes. Mistakes a witcher shouldn’t be making.”