1)andilion clenched his teeth with anger and despair.

'Well?' Rience made a sign to the reeking man. 'Where is the witcher hiding? What is the place called?'

The poet remained silent. The rope tightened, twisting his hands painfully, and his feet left the ground. Dandilion let out a howl, brief and broken because Rience's wizardly ring immediately gagged him.

'Higher, higher.' Rience rested his hands on his hips. 'You know, Dandilion, I could use magic to sound out your mind, but it's exhausting. Besides, I like seeing people's eyes pop out of their sockets from pain. And you're going to tell me anyway.'

Dandilion knew he would. The rope secured to his ankles grew taut, the bucket of lime scraped along the ground.

'Sir,' said the first ruffian suddenly, covering the lantern with his cloak and peering through the gap in the pigsty door, 'someone's coming. A lass, I think.'

'You know what to do,' Rience hissed. 'Put the lantern out.'

The reeking man released the rope and Dandilion tumbled inertly to the ground, falling in such a way that he could see the man with the lantern standing at the door and the reeking man, a long knife in his hand, lying in wait on the other side. Light broke in from the bawdy-house through gaps in the planks, and the poet heard the singing and hubbub.

The door to the pigsty creaked open revealing a short figure wrapped in a cloak and wearing a round, tightly fitting cap. After a moment's hesitation, the woman crossed the threshold. The

reeking man threw himself at her, slashing forcefully with his knife, and tumbled to his knees as the knife met with no resistance, passing through the figure's throat as though through a cloud of smoke. Because the figure really was a cloud of smoke – one which was already starting to disperse. But before it completely vanished another figure burst into the pigsty, indistinct, dark and nimble as a weasel. Dandilion saw it throw a cloak at the lantern man, jump over the reeking one, saw something glisten in its hand, and heard the reeking man wheeze and choke savagely. The lantern man disentangled himself from the cloak, jumped, took a swing with his knife. A fiery lightning bolt shot from the dark figure with a hiss, slapped over the tough's face and chest with a crack and spread over him like flaming oil. The ruffian screamed piercingly and the grim reek of burning meat filled the pigsty.

Then Rience attacked. The spell he cast illuminated the darkness with a bluish flash in which Dandilion saw a slender woman wearing man's clothes gesticulating strangely with both hands. He only glimpsed her for a second before the blue glow disappeared with a bang and a blinding flash. Rience fell back with a roar of fury and collapsed onto the wooden pigsty walls, breaking them with a crash. The woman dressed in man's clothing leapt after him, a stiletto flashing in her hand. The pigsty filled with brightness again – this time golden – beaming from a bright oval which suddenly appeared in the air. Dandilion saw Rience spring up from the dusty floor, leap into the oval and immediately disappear. The oval dimmed but, before it went out entirely, the woman ran up to it shouting incomprehensively, stretching out her hand. Something crackled and rustled and the dying oval boiled with roaring flames for a moment. A muffled sound, as if coming from a great distance, reached Dandilion's ears – a sound very much like a scream of pain. The oval went out completely and darkness engulfed the pigsty again. The poet felt the power which gagged him disappear.

'Help!' he howled. 'Help!'

'Stop yelling, Dandilion,' said the woman, kneeling next to him and slicing through the knots with Rience's stiletto.

'Yennefer? Is that you?'

'Surely you're not going to say you don't remember how I look. And I'm sure my voice is not unfamiliar to your musical ear. Can you get up? They didn't break any bones, did they?'

Dandilion stood with difficulty, groaned and stretched his aching shoulders.

'What's with them?' He indicated the bodies lying on the ground.

'We'll check.' The enchantress snicked the stiletto shut. 'One of them should still be alive. I've a few questions for him.'

'This one,' the troubadour stood over the reeking man, 'probably still lives.'

'I doubt it,' said Yennefer indifferently. 'I severed his windpipe and carotid artery. There might still be a little murmur in him but not for long.'

Dandilion shuddered.

'You slashed his throat?'

'If, out of inborn caution, I hadn't sent an illusion in first, I would be the one lying there now. Let's look at the other one… Bloody hell. Such a sturdy fellow and he still couldn't take it. Pity, pity '

'He's dead, too?'

'He couldn't take the shock. Hmm… I fried him a little too haul… See, even his teeth are charred- What's the matter with you, Dandilion? Are you going to be sick?'

'I am,' the poet replied indistinctly, bending over and leaning his forehead against the pigsty wall.

'That's everything?' The enchantress put her tumbler down and reached for the skewer of roast chickens. 'You haven't lied about anything? Haven't forgotten anything?'

'Nothing. Apart from "thank you". Thank you, Yennefer.' She looked him in the eyes and nodded her head lightly, making her glistening, black curls writhe and cascade down to her shoulders. She slipped the roast chicken onto a trencher and began dividing it skilfully, She used a knife and fork. Dandilion had only known one person, up until then, who could eat a chicken with a knife and fork as skilfully. Now he knew how, and from whom, Geralt had learnt the knack. Well, he thought, no wonder. After all, he did live with her for a year in Vengerberg and before he left her, she had instilled a number of strange things into him. He pulled the other chicken from the skewer and, without a second thought, ripped off a thigh and began eating it, pointedly holding it with both hands.

'How did you know?' he asked. 'How did you arrive with help on time?'

'I was beneath Bleobheris during your performance.'

'I didn't see you.'

'I didn't want to be seen. Then I followed you into town. I waited here, in the tavern – it wasn't fitting, after all, for me to follow you in to that haven of dubious delight and certain gonorrhoea. But I eventually became impatient and was wandering around the yard when I thought I heard voices coming from the pigsty. I sharpened my hearing and it turned out it wasn't, as I'd first thought, some sodomite but you. Hey, innkeeper! More wine, if you please!'

'At your command, honoured lady! Quick as a flash!'

'The same as before, please, but this time without the water. I can only tolerate water in a bath, in wine I find it quite loathsome.'

'At your service, at your service!'

Yennefer pushed her plate aside. There was still enough meat on the chicken, Dandilion noticed, to feed the innkeeper and his family for breakfast. A knife and fork were certainly elegant and refined, but they weren't very effective.

'Thank you,' he repeated, 'for rescuing me. That cursed Rience wouldn't have spared my life. He'd have squeezed everything from me and then butchered me like a sheep.'

'Yes, I think he would.' She poured herself and the bard some wine then raised her tumbler. 'So let's drink to your rescue and health, Dandilion.'

And to yours, Yennefer,' he toasted her in return. 'To health for which – as of today – I shall pray whenever the occasion arises. I'm indebted to you, beautiful lady, and I shall repay the debt in my songs. I shall explode the myth which claims wizards are insensitive to the pain of others, that they are rarely eager to help poor, unfortunate, unfamiliar mortals.'

'What to do.' She smiled, half-shutting her beautiful violet eyes. 'The myth has some justification; it did not spring from nowhere. But you're not a stranger, Dandilion. I know you and like you.'