'And what's this lake? There aren't any lakes around here.'

'That isn't a lake. It's an ink blot…'

Ah. And here… This is Cintra. Is that right?'

'Yes. South of Transriver and Sodden. This way, here, flows the River Yaruga, flowing into the sea right at Cintra. That country, I don't know if you know, is now dominated by the Nilfgaardians-'

'I do know,' she cut him short, clenching her fist. 'I know very well. And where is this Nilfgaard? I can't see a country like that here. Doesn't it fit on this map of yours, or what? Get me a bigger one!'

'Hmm…' Jarre scratched the wart on his chin. 'I don't have any maps like that… But I do know that Nilfgaard is somewhere further towards the south… There, more or less there. I think.'

'So far?' Ciri was surprised, her eyes fixed on the place on the floor which he indicated. 'They've come all the way from there? And on the way conquered those other countries?'

'Yes, that's true. They conquered Metinna, Maecht, Nazair, Ebbing, all the kingdoms south of the Amell Mountains. Those kingdoms, like Cintra and Upper Sodden, the Nilfgaardians now call the Provinces. But they didn't manage to dominate Lower Sodden, Verden and Brugge. Here, on the Yaruga, the armies of the Four Kingdoms held them back, defeating them in battle-'

'I know, I studied history.' Ciri slapped the map with her open palm. Well, Jarre, tell me about the war. We're kneeling on

political geography. Draw conclusions through analogy and through anything you like. I'm all ears.'

The boy blushed, then started to explain, pointing to the appropriate regions on the map with the tip of a quill.

'At present, the border between us and the South – dominated by Nilfgaard – is demarcated, as you can see, by the Yaruga River. It constitutes an obstacle which is practically insurmountable. It hardly ever freezes over, and during the rainy season it can carry so much water that its bed is almost a mile wide. For a long stretch, here, it flows between precipitous, inaccessible banks, between the rocks of Mahakam…'

'The land of dwarves and gnomes?'

'Yes. And so the Yaruga can only be crossed here, in its lower reaches, in Sodden, and here, in its middle reaches, in the valley of Dol Angra…'

And it was exactly in Dol Angra, that inci- Incident?'

'Wait. I'm just explaining to you that, at the moment, no army could cross the Yaruga River. Both accessible valleys, those along which armies have marched for centuries, are very heavily manned and defended, both by us and by Nilfgaard. Look at the map. Look how many strongholds there are. See, here is Verden, here is Brugge, here the Isles of Skellige…'

'And this, what is this? This huge white mark?'

Jarre moved closer; she felt the warmth of his knee.

'Brokilon Forest,' he said, 'is forbidden territory. The kingdom of forest dryads. Brokilon also defends our flank. The dryads won't let anyone pass. The Nilfgaardians either…'

'Hmm…' Ciri leaned over the map. 'Here is Aedirn… And the town of Vengerberg… Jarre! Stop that immediately!'

The boy abruptly pulled his lips away from her hair and went as red as a beetroot.

'1 do not wish you to do that to me!'

'Ciri, I '

'I came to you with a serious matter, as a wizard to a scholar,' she said icily and with dignity, in a tone of voice which exactly copied that of Yennefer. 'So behave!'

The 'scholar' blushed an even deeper shade and had such a stupid expression on his face that the 'wizard' could barely keep herself from laughing. He leaned over the map once more.

'All this geography of yours,' she continued, 'hasn't led to anything yet. You're telling me about the Yaruga River but the Nilfgaardians have, after all, already crossed to the other side once. What's stopping them now?'

'That time,' hawked Jarre, wiping the sweat which had all of a sudden appeared on his brow, 'they only had Brugge, Sodden and Temeria against them. Now, we're united in an alliance. Like at the battle of Sodden. The Four Kingdoms. Temeria, Redania, Aedirn and Kaedwen…'

'Kaedwen,' said Ciri proudly. 'Yes, I know what that alliance is based on. King Henselt of Kaedwen offers special, secret aid to King Demawend of Aedirn. That aid is transported in barrels. And when King Demawend suspects someone of being a traitor, he puts stones in the barrels. Sets a trap-'

She broke off, recalling that Geralt had forbidden her to mention the events in Kaedwen. Jarre stared at her suspiciously.

'Is that so? And how can you know all that?'

'I read about it in a book written by Marshal Pelican,' she snorted. 'And in other analogies. Tell me what happened in Dol Angra or whatever it's called. But first, show me where it is.'

'Here. Dol Angra is a wide valley, a route leading from the south to the kingdoms of Lyria and Rivia, to Aedirn, and further to Dol Blathanna and Kaedwen… And through Pontar Valley to us, to Temeria.'

And what happened there?'

'There was fighting. Apparently. I don't know much about it, but that's what they're saying at the castle.'

'If there was fighting,' frowned Ciri, 'there's a war already! So what are you talking about?'

'It's not the first time there's been fighting,' clarified Jarre, but the girl saw that he was less and less sure of himself. 'Incidents at the border are very frequent. But they're insignificant.'

And how come?'

'The forces are balanced. Neither we nor the Nilfgaardians can do anything. And neither of the sides can give their opponent a casus belli-'

'Give what?'

'A reason for war. Understand? That's why the armed incidents in Dol Angra are most certainly fortuitous matters, probably attacks by brigands or skirmishes with smugglers… In no way can they be the work of regular armies, neither ours nor those of Nilfgaard… Because that would be precisely a casus belli…'

'Aha. Jarre, tell me-'

She broke off. She raised her head abruptly, quickly touched her temples with her fingers and frowned.

'I've got to go,' she said. 'Lady Yennefer is calling me.'

'You can hear her?' The boy was intrigued. 'At a distance? How…'

'I've got to go,' she repeated, getting to her feet and brushing the dust off her knees. 'Listen, Jarre. I'm leaving with Lady Yennefer, on some very important matters. I don't know when we'll be back. I warn you they are secret matters which concern only wizards, so don't ask any questions.'

Jarre also stood up. He adjusted his clothing but still did not know what to do with his hands. His eyes glazed over sickeningly.

'Ciri…'

'What?'

'I… I…'

'I don't know what you're talking about,' she said impatiently, glaring at him with her huge, emerald eyes. Nor do you, obviously. I'm off. Take care, Jarre.'

'Goodbye… Ciri. Have a safe journey. I'll… I'll be thinking of you…'

Ciri sighed.

'I'm here, Lady Yennefer!'

She flew into the chamber like a shot from a catapult and the door thumped open, slamming against the wall. She could have broken her legs on the stool standing in her way but Ciri jumped

over it deftly, gracefully executed a half-pirouette feigning the slash of a sword, and joyfully laughed at her successful trick. Despite running briskly, she did not pant but breathed evenly and calmly. She had mastered breath control to perfection.

'I'm here!' she repeated.

'At last. Get undressed, and into the tub. Quick.'

The enchantress did not look round, did not turn away from the table, looked at Ciri in the mirror. Slowly. She combed her damp, black curls which straightened under the pressure of the comb only to spring back a moment later into shiny waves.

The girl unbuckled her boots in a flash, kicked them off, freed herself of her clothes and with a splash landed in the tub. Grabbing the soap, she started to energetically scrub her forearms.