“Music! Play on! Nothing has happened. Please take no notice of that pitiful incident!”

The witcher was convinced that with every successive journey through the portal, the risk of misfortune was multiplying and he wasn’t mistaken. They hit the target, Errdil’s tavern, but they materialized just under the ceiling. They fell, shattering the stair balustrade and, with a deafening crash, landed on the table. The table had the right not to withstand the blow, and it didn’t.

Yennefer found herself under the table. He was sure she had lost consciousness. He was mistaken.

She punched him in the eye and fired a volley of insults straight at him which would do credit to a dwarven undertaker—and they were renowned for their foul language. The curses were accompanied by furious, chaotic blows dealt blindly, randomly.

Geralt grabbed her by the hands and, to avoid being hit by her forehead, thrust his face into the sorceress’s cleavage which smelled of lilac, gooseberries and oysters.

“Let me go!” she screamed, kicking like a pony. “You idiot! Let go! The fetters are going to break any moment now. I’ve got to strengthen them or the djinn will escape!”

He didn’t answer, although he wanted to. He grasped her even more tightly, trying to pin her down to the floor. Yennefer swore horribly, struggled, and with all her strength, kicked him in the crotch with her knee. Before he could catch his breath, she broke free and screamed an incantation. He felt a terrible force drag him from the ground and hurl him across the hall until, with a violence that near-stunned him, he slammed against a carved two-doored chest of drawers and shattered it completely.

IX

“What’s happening there?!” Dandilion, clinging to the wall, strained his neck, trying to see through the downpour. “Tell me what’s happening there, dammit!”

“They’re fighting!” yelled an urchin, springing away from the tavern window as if he’d burned himself. His tattered friends also escaped, slapping the mud with their bare heels. “The sorcerer and the witch are fighting!”

“Fighting?” Neville was surprised. “They’re fighting, and that shitty demon is ruining my town! Look, he’s knocked another chimney down. And damaged the brick-kiln! Hey, you get over there, quick! Gods, we’re lucky it’s raining or there’d be a fire like nobody’s business!”

“This won’t last much longer,” Krepp said gloomily. “The magical light is weakening, the bonds will break at any moment. Mr. Neville! Order the people to move back! All hell’s going to break loose over there at any minute! There’ll be only splinters left of that house! Mr. Errdil, what are you laughing at? It’s your house. What makes you so amused?”

“I had that wreck insured for a massive sum!”

“Does the policy cover magical and supernatural events?”

“Of course.”

“That’s wise, Mr. Elf. Very wise. Congratulations. Hey, you people, get to some shelter! Don’t get any closer, if you value your lives!”

A deafening crash came from within Errdil’s house, and lightning flashed. The small crowd retreated, hiding behind the pillars.