Chapter 48: THE SORCERESS RETURNS
"The unusual bard." Yennefer dismounted with practiced grace, boots finding stone without a stumble. "Still impossible to categorize, I see."
"Still curious, I see." I offered my most charming smile—the one I'd used on nobles and innkeepers and everyone in between. "Welcome to Kaer Morhen."
"Welcome." Her eyes swept the ancient walls, the crumbling battlements, the fortress that had kept Witcher secrets for centuries. "I never thought I'd see inside these walls."
"Neither did we." Geralt stepped forward, and for a moment, something passed between them—old pain, old longing, the complicated remnants of a wish made years ago. "Thank you for coming."
"You said Ciri needs me. I came." She turned her attention to the girl standing beside me, expression shifting to something more serious. "Princess Cirilla. I've heard a great deal about you."
Ciri stood straight, trying to project confidence despite her nervousness. "Lady Yennefer."
"Just Yennefer. I've never been much for titles." She approached, studying Ciri with an intensity that made my own examinations seem casual. "May I?"
A hand extended, not quite touching Ciri's face. Magic gathered—I felt it as pressure against my senses, chaos energy preparing to probe.
Ciri looked at Geralt, who nodded. "She needs to understand what we're dealing with."
The examination took only seconds. Yennefer's expression grew increasingly serious, violet eyes darkening as she processed what she found.
"Elder Blood." Her voice was flat. "Stronger than I expected. Stronger than—" She stopped. "Who's been teaching her to suppress surges?"
"No one's been teaching her." I stepped forward. "I've been managing them with music."
Those violet eyes fixed on me with renewed interest. "Show me."
We demonstrated in the training yard.
Ciri moved through exercises while I played—the light version of Calming Melody that we'd developed over weeks of practice. When a surge built, she channeled it into movement. When the energy became too strong, I adjusted my playing, smoothing the edges of her power.
It wasn't elegant. But it worked.
Yennefer watched not Ciri but me, cataloguing every detail of my performance. The way my fingers moved on the strings. The precise moments when my song intersected with Ciri's power. The mechanism of whatever I was doing.
"Fascinating," she murmured when we finished. "You're not using chaos. You're not using Elder magic. Yet somehow you're interfacing with her power—dampening it, directing it." She moved closer, that predatory curiosity I remembered from Rinde sharp in her eyes. "What are you, bard? I've spent years thinking about our meeting, and I still have no answer."
"I'm Jackier. A bard with unusual abilities."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the truth."
"Partial truth." She circled me like a merchant examining goods. "Your power has no source I can identify. No connection to the chaos that underlies all magic. It's as if you operate on entirely different principles."
"Maybe I do."
"That shouldn't be possible."
"And yet here I am."
Her perfume reached me—lilac and gooseberries, exactly as I remembered. It took conscious effort not to inhale deeply.
Focus. This is an investigation, not a reunion.
"I'll train Ciri." Yennefer turned to Geralt, but her attention remained partly on me. "Her power is too dangerous to leave uncontrolled. But I have conditions."
"Name them."
"Full access to study the bard's abilities." She gestured toward me. "Whatever he is, I want to understand it. His techniques are clearly effective—I need to know why."
Geralt looked uncomfortable. "Jackier?"
I'd known this was coming. Had prepared for it since the message went out.
"Study away." I spread my hands in mock surrender. "Just don't vivisect me."
Yennefer's smile was sharp and satisfied. "No promises."
Dinner that evening was... complicated.
Vesemir presided at the head of the table, watching Yennefer with the wariness of a man who'd seen too many mages cause problems. The other Witchers—Eskel and Lambert—maintained cautious politeness. Geralt sat beside Yennefer, their silence speaking volumes about history neither was ready to address.
Ciri sat between Geralt and me, watching the adults navigate currents she didn't fully understand.
I passed the wine.
Yennefer's hand brushed mine as she took the bottle. Electric. Deliberate.
"Thank you."
"Of course."
We held eye contact a beat too long. Geralt noticed. Ciri noticed. Everyone noticed.
This is going to be complicated.
"Tomorrow," Yennefer said, addressing the table but looking at me. "We begin. Ciri's training in the morning. My examination of the bard in the afternoon." She sipped her wine. "I expect full cooperation."
"You'll have it." I kept my voice steady despite the hammering of my heart. "I'm curious what you'll find."
"So am I."
Vesemir cleared his throat. "The fortress operates on schedules. Training begins at dawn. Meals at standard times. Lady Yennefer, your quarters have been prepared in the east tower."
"Acceptable." She set down her cup. "Though I may need access to the library for research. And private space for magical work."
"Discuss it with Geralt. He'll arrange what's needed."
The meal continued. Food was eaten, though I barely tasted it. Conversations happened, though I contributed little.
Yennefer's presence filled the hall like her perfume—unavoidable, intoxicating, dangerous.
She's here to help Ciri, I reminded myself. Everything else is secondary.
Even the way her violet eyes keep finding mine across the table.
Even the questions she'll ask that I can't fully answer.
Even the complicated feelings that haven't faded despite years of distance.
After dinner, Ciri hugged me goodnight—our routine, maintained even with company.
"She's intense," Ciri whispered. "The sorceress."
"Very."
"But she'll help?"
"She will. She's the best there is."
Ciri pulled back, looking at me with twelve-year-old perception that sometimes saw too much. "You like her."
"I—"
"It's okay. She seems to like you too." A ghost of a smile. "Even if she's also a little scary."
Out of the mouths of children.
"Get some sleep. Tomorrow's going to be demanding."
She went to bed. I retreated to my quarters, but sleep didn't come.
Instead, I sat by my window, watching stars wheel over the mountains, wondering how much truth I could afford to give Yennefer.
How much truth any of us could afford to give anyone.
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