He merged into the crowd, then quickly sneaked down the backstreets, dodging like a hare chased by hounds. When he reached the coach house he waited a good half hour, hidden in the shadows. Not spotting anything suspicious, he climbed the ladder to the thatch and leaped onto the roof of the house belonging to Wolfgang Amadeus Goatbeard, a brewer he knew. Gripping the moss-covered roof tiles, he finally arrived at the window of the attic he was aiming for. An oil lamp was burning inside the little room. Perched precariously on the guttering, Dandilion knocked on the lead frames. The window was not locked and gave way at the slightest push.

'Geralt! Hey, Geralt!'

'Dandilion? Wait… Don't come in, please…'

'What's that, don't come in? What do you mean, don't come in?' The poet pushed the window. 'You're not alone or what? Are you bedding someone right now?'

Neither receiving nor waiting for an answer he clambered onto the sill, knocking over the apples and onions lying on it.

'Geralt…' he panted and immediately fell silent. Then cursed under his breath, staring at the light green robes of a medical student strewn across the floor. He opened his mouth in astonishment and cursed once more. He could have expected anything. But not this.

'Shani.' He shook his head. 'May the-'

'No comments, thank you very much.' The witcher sat down on the bed. And Shani covered herself, yanking the sheet right up to her upturned nose.

'Well, come in then.' Geralt reached for his trousers. 'Since you're coming by way of the window, this must be important. Because if it isn't I'm going to throw you straight back out through it.'

Dandilion clambered off the sill, knocking down the rest of the onions. He sat down, pulling the high-backed, wooden chair closer with his foot. The witcher gathered Shani's clothes and his own from the floor. He looked abashed and dressed in silence. The medical student, hiding behind him, was struggling with her shirt. The poet watched her insolently, searching in his mind for similes and rhymes for the golden colour of her skin in the light of the oil lamp and the curves of her small breasts.

'What's this about, Dandilion?' The witcher fastened the buckles on his boots. 'Go on.'

'Pack your bags,' he replied dryly. 'Your departure is imminent.'

'How imminent?'

'Exceptionally.'

'Shani…' Geralt cleared his throat. 'Shani told me about the snoops following you. You lost them, I understand?'

'You don't understand anything.'

'Rience?'

'Worse.'

'In that case I really don't understand… Wait. The Redanians? Tretogor? Dijkstra?'

'You've guessed.'

'That's still no reason-'

'It's reason enough,' interrupted Dandilion. 'They're not concerned about Rience any more, Geralt. They're after the girl and Yennefer. Dijkstra wants to know where they are. He's going to force you to disclose it to him. Do you understand now?'

'I do now. And so we're fleeing. Does it have to be through the window?'

'Absolutely. Shani? Will you manage?'

The student of medicine smoothed down her robe.

'It won't be my first window.'

'I was sure of that.' The poet scrutinised her intently, counting on seeing a blush worthy of rhyme and metaphor. He miscalculated. Mirth in her hazel eyes and an impudent smile were all he saw.

A big grey owl glided down to the sill without a sound. Shani cried out quietly. Geralt reached for his sword.

'Don't be silly, Philippa,' said Dandilion.

The owl disappeared and Phillippa Eilhart appeared in its place, squatting awkwardly. The magician immediately jumped into the room, smoothing down her hair and clothes.

'Good evening,' she said coldly. 'Introduce me, Dandilion.'

'Geralt of Rivia. Shani of Medicine. And that owl which so craftily flew in my tracks is no owl. This is Philippa Eilhart from the Council of Wizards, at present in King Vizimir's service and pride of the Tretogor court. It's a shame we've only got one chair in here.'

'It's quite enough.' The enchantress made herself comfortable in the high-backed chair vacated by Dandilion, and cast a smouldering glance over those present, fixing her eyes somewhat longer on Shani. The medical student, to Dandilion's surprise, suddenly blushed.

'In principle, what I've come about is the sole concern of Geralt of Rivia,' Philippa began after a short pause. 'I'm aware, however, that to ask anybody to leave would be tactless, and so…'

'I can leave,' said Shani hesitantly.

'You can't,' muttered Geralt. 'No one can until the situation's made clear. Isn't that so, my lady?'

'Philippa to you,' smiled the enchantress. 'Let's throw formalities aside. And no one has to go – no one's presence bothers me. Astonishes me, at most, but what to do? – life is an endless train of surprises… as one of my friends says… As our mutual friend says, Geralt. You're studying medicine, are you, Shani? What year?'

'Third,' grunted the girl.

'Ah,' Philippa Eilhart was looking not at her but at the witcher, 'seventeen, what a beautiful age. Yennefer would give a lot to be that age again. What do you reckon, Geralt? Because I'll ask her when I get the chance.'

The witcher smiled nastily.

'I've no doubt you will ask. I've no doubt you'll follow the question with a commentary. I've no doubt it'll amuse you no end. Now come to the point, please.'

'Quite right.' The magician nodded, growing serious. 'It's high time. And you haven't got much time. Dandilion has, no doubt, already informed you that Dijkstra has suddenly acquired the wish to see and talk to you to establish the location of a certain girl. Dijkstra has orders from King Vizimir in this matter and so I think he will be very insistent that you reveal this place to him.'

'Of course. Thank you for the warning. Only one thing puzzles me a little. You say Dijkstra received instructions from the king. And you didn't receive any? After all, you hold a prominent seat in Vizimir's council.'

'Indeed.' The magician was not perturbed by the gibe. 'I do. I take my responsibilities seriously, and they consist of warning the king against making mistakes. Sometimes – as in this particular instance – I am not allowed to tell the king outright that he is committing a mistake, or to dissuade him from a hasty action. I simply have to render it impossible for him to make a mistake. You understand what I'm saying?'

The witcher confirmed with a nod. Dandilion wondered whether he really did understand, because he knew that Philippa was lying through her teeth.

'So I see,' said Geralt slowly, proving that he understood perfectly well, 'that the Council of Wizards is also interested in my ward. The wizards wish to find out where my ward is. And they want to get to her before Vizimir or anybody else does. Why, Philippa? What is it about my ward? What makes her so very interesting?'

The magician's eyes narrowed. 'Don't you know?' she hissed. 'Do you know so little about her? I wouldn't like to draw any hasty conclusions but such a lack of knowledge would indicate that your qualifications as her guardian amount to nothing. In truth, I'm surprised that being so unaware and so lacking in information, you decided to look after her. And not only that – you decided to deny the right to look after her to others, others who have both the

qualifications and the right. And, on top of that, you ask why? Careful, Geralt, or your arrogance will be the end of you. Watch out. And guard that child, damn it! Guard that girl as though she's the apple of your eye! And if you can't do so yourself, ask others to!'

For a moment Dandilion thought the witcher was going to mention the role undertaken by Yennefer. He would not be risking anything, and would flatten Philippa's arguments. But Geralt said nothing. The poet guessed why. Philippa knew everything. Philippa was warning him. And the witcher understood her warning.