The djinn, circling above the roof of Errdil’s tavern, behaved exactly like that bumblebee. He flew up and fell, he sprang up and dived, he buzzed furiously in a circle. Because the djinn, exactly like the bumblebee in Kaer Morhen, was tied down. Twisted threads of blindingly bright light of various colors were tightly wrapped around him and ended at the roof. But the djinn had more options than the bumblebee, which couldn’t knock down surrounding roofs, rip thatches to shreds, destroy chimneys, and shatter towers and garrets. The djinn could. And did.

“It’s destroying the town,” wailed Neville. “That monster’s destroying my town!”

“Hehehe,” laughed the priest. “She’s found her match, it seems! It’s an exceptionally strong djinn! I really don’t know who’s caught whom, the witch him or he the witch! Ha, it’ll end with the djinn grinding her to dust. Very good! Justice will be done!”

“I shit on justice!” yelled the mayor, not caring if there were any voters under the window. “Look what’s happening there, Krepp! Panic, ruin! You didn’t tell me that, you bald idiot! You played the wise guy, gabbled on, but not a word about what’s most important! Why didn’t you tell me that that demon… Witcher! Do something! Do you hear, innocent sorcerer? Do something about that demon! I forgive you all your offences, but—”

“There’s nothing can be done here, Mr. Neville,” snorted Krepp. “You didn’t listen to what I was saying, that’s all. You never listen to me. This, I repeat, is an exceptionally strong djinn. If it wasn’t for that, the sorceress would have hold of him already. Her spell is soon going to weaken, and then the djinn is going to crush her and escape. And we’ll have some peace.”

“And in the meantime, the town will go to ruins?”

“We’ve got to wait,” repeated the priest, “but not idly. Give out the orders, mayor. Tell the people to evacuate the surrounding houses and get ready to extinguish fires. What’s happening there now is nothing compared to the hell that’s going to break loose when the genie has finished with the witch.”

Geralt raised his head, caught Chireadan’s eye and looked away.

“Mr. Krepp,” he suddenly decided, “I need your help. It’s about the portal through which Dandilion appeared here. The portal still links the town hall to—”

“There’s not even a trace of the portal anymore,” the priest said Coldly, pointing to the wall. “Can’t you see?”

“A portal leaves a trace, even when invisible. A spell can stabilize such a trace. I’ll follow it.”

“You must be mad. Even if a passage like that doesn’t tear you to pieces, what do you expect to gain by it? Do you want to find yourself in the middle of a cyclone?”

“I asked if you can cast a spell which could stabilize the trace.”

“Spell?” The priest proudly raised his head. “I’m not a godless sorcerer! I don’t cast spells! My power comes from faith and prayer!”