Blood Of Elves by Andrzej Sapkowsk

quietly. ‘That’s enough. You’ve achieved what you wanted. And maybe even more.’
    ‘The devil take it,’ cursed Coen. ‘We’ve turned out to be right idiots, there’s no two ways about it, eh, Vesemir, and you-
    ‘Silence,’ growled the old witcher. ‘Not a word.’
    It was Eskel’s behaviour which was most unlikely; he got up, approached the enchantress, bent down low, took her hand and kissed it respectfully. She swiftly withdrew her hand. Not so as to demonstrate her anger and annoyance but to break the pleasant, piercing vibration triggered by the witcher’s touch. Eskel emanated powerfully. More powerfully than Geralt.
    ‘Triss,’ he said, rubbing the hideous scar on his cheek with embarrassment, ‘help us. We ask you. Help us, Triss.’
    The enchantress looked him in the eye and pursed her lips. ‘With what? What am I to help you with, Eskel?’
    Eskel rubbed his cheek again, looked at Geralt. The white-haired witcher bowed his head, hiding his eyes behind his hand. Vesemir cleared his throat loudly.
    At that moment, the door creaked open and Ciri entered the hall. Vesemir’s hawking changed into something like a wheeze, a loud indrawn breath. Lambert opened his mouth. Triss suppressed a laugh.
    Ciri, her hair cut and styled, was walking towards them with tiny steps, carefully holding up a dark-blue dress – shortened and adjusted, and still showing the signs of having been carried in a saddle-bag. Another present from the enchantress gleamed around the girl’s neck – a little black viper made of lacquered leather with a ruby eye and gold clasp.
    Ciri stopped in front of Vesemir. Not quite knowing what to do with her hands, she planted her thumbs behind her belt.
    ‘I cannot train today,’ she recited in the utter silence, slowly and emphatically, ‘for I am … I am . . .’
    She looked at the enchantress. Triss winked at her, smirking like a rascal well pleased with his mischief, and moved her lips to prompt the memorised lines.
    ‘Indisposed!’ ended Ciri loudly and proudly, turning her nose up almost to the ceiling.
    Vesemir hawked again. But Eskel, dear Eskel, kept his head and once more behaved as was fitting.
    ‘Of course,’ he said casually, smiling. ‘We understand and clearly
    we will postpone your exercises until your indisposition has passed. We will also cut the theory short and, if you feel unwell, we will put it aside for the time being, too. If you need any medication or—’
    ‘I’ll take care of that,’ Triss cut in just as casually.
    ‘Aha . . .’ Only now did Ciri blush a little – she looked at the old witcher. ‘Uncle Vesemir, I’ve asked Triss . . . that is, Miss Merigold, to . . . that is . . . Well, to stay here with us. For longer. For a long time. But Triss said you have to agree forsooth. Uncle Vesemir! Say yes!’
    ‘I agree . . .’ Vesemir wheezed out. ‘Of course, I agree . . .’
    ‘We are very happy.’ Only now did Geralt take his hand from his forehead. ‘We are extremely pleased, Triss.’
    The enchantress nodded slightly towards him and innocently fluttered her eyelashes, winding a chestnut lock around her finger. Geralt’s face seemed almost graven from stone.
    ‘You behaved very properly and politely, Ciri,’ he said, ‘offering Miss Merigold our ongoing hospitality in Kaer Morhen. I am proud of you.’
    Ciri reddened and smiled broadly. The enchantress gave her the next pre-arranged sign.
    ‘And now,’ said the girl, turning her nose up even higher, ‘I will leave you alone because you no doubt wish to talk over various important matters with Triss. Miss Merigold. Uncle Vesemir, gentlemen … I bid you goodbye. For the time being.’
    She curtseyed gracefully then left the hall, walking up the stairs slowly and with dignity.
    ‘Bloody hell.’ Lambert broke the silence. ‘To think I didn’t believe that she really is a princess.’
    ‘Have you understood, you idiots?’ Vesemir cast his eye around. ‘If she puts a dress on