(A/N: Not gonna lie. It's been a tough couple of weeks while writing this. So please be gentle.

Warning. More spoilers for Skelligan plotline of Witcher 3)

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“Absolutely out of the question.” Lord Voorhis raged. “How can you possibly think of going off on a jaunt across the islands of Skellige at a time like this.” It wasn't really a question.

“At a time like what?” I asked innocently. But Lord Voorhis was in full flow, directing a stream of invective and more than a little bit of spittle at the Empress who was packing her saddle bags.

“At a time when the Empire is in crisis,” he went on.

“Pfft.” The Empress was jamming a spare shirt into a bag. “The Empire is always in crisis of one form or another.”

“That's not the point and you know it. There is a supernatural phenomenon approaching the islands that brings with it a powerful cold that is known to freeze trees to the extent that they shatter explosively and you propose to go across the islands when that is on it's way.”

“Sound's like fun to me.” The Empress was counting the pairs of socks that she was planning on taking. She had them laid out on the floor and was ticking off pairs on her fingers.

“That's not to say that there might be assassins out there who will want to take advantage of the fact that the Empress is travelling over land without an escort....”

“You are still not doing anything other than making this sound like a lot of fun.” The Empress told him while ramming the bundled socks into her saddlebags followed by the much more carefully folded shirts.

“What about bandits then?” Lord Voorhis demanded. “Are their bandits?” He spun on Queen Cerys who was also in the room and joined me in struggling to contain my amusement at the sheer amount of outrage that was on display out of Lord Voorhis.

“There are bandits.” The Queen agreed. “No matter how hard we try, we just can't completely gouge the remains of Clan Drummond out from their holes. At the end of the day, they know those bits of island better than we do and can always find some cave or crevice to hide in that we didn't know about.”

Quick note. The clan chief of Clan Drummond was a man called Madman Lugos. His son and one of the contenders for the throne of Skellige was killed at an event called “The Bloody Feast” where a number of revellers in attendance were poisoned with a magical brew that turned them into berzerking bears. He blamed Clan An Craite for these events as they transpire in the An Craite feasting hall under An Craite hospitality. Despite the fact that it was later proven that this was all a plot to discredit the An Craite clan and to denounce the forerunners for the throne in the personages of Hjallmar and Cerys, Madman Lugos refused to accept Cery's ascension to the throne and rose in rebellion.

Events transpired but in the end, things didn't really go well for him. A piece delegation led by Druid Ermion and The White Wolf of Lyria was attacked and in defending themselves, Madman Lugos was killed. The eventual heir to clan Drummond was not to clever, or too warlike and quickly lost what remained of his territory to the remaining clans, but there remains loyalists around who keep the flame of rebellion alive.

This mostly takes the form of raiding merchant's caravans and pirating shipping as they still have access to a couple of longships. As with all of those events that Lord Geralt is involved in, I can recommend Professor Dandelion's works on the subject if you would like to know more. Or “On the rise of Queen Cerys of Skellige and her forcing Skellige into the modern world.” By the acclaimed Imperial scholar, Bernhard Gunther.

I personally found that last work a little negative towards Skelligan culture before the rise of Queen Cerys but, despite his bias towards Queen Cerys, who it is suggested that he had a crush on, his recounting of the facts are largely accurate according to the people that were there at the time.

“And monsters.” Lord Voorhis was relentless. “Begging her majesties pardon,” he bowed to Queen Cerys who nodded a response. “But there are ice giants, Endregas, Trolls, Werewolves and all kinds of things out there.”

“You forget who my travelling companions will be.” The Empress responded having decided that the contents of her travelling bags could be better arranged and as such was implementing her new system. “I have a Witcher, the foremost expert of Oxenfurt university on monsters...”

“Not technically true according to the faculty.” I put in although it seemed that my contribution to this conversation was neither wanted, nor listened to.

“And you also forget that I was trained at Kaer Morhen on the subject of monsters. Also, I can literally teleport.” The Empress told him. “The danger is just a little spice of excitement.” She grinned at him but I'm not sure that the grin got exactly the response that she was hoping for.

“Majesty,” he warned in a dire tone of voice.

“Look, where's my secretary?”

“Here your majesty?” The Secretary was doing his trick of being invisible in a crowd, in the corner of the room.

“What's the next thing we have on the itinerary?”

“Nothing your majesty. It has been cleared until we leave the islands for Novigrad. You declared that you wanted to stay for the ceremony of the Skeleton Ship, and it is now impossible for petitioners to reach Skellige. This is because all of the captains that would be able to make the crossing are already here in their own long boats or are not willing to do anything of the kind. All you have are strategy meetings.”

“Which are to discuss things that we have already decided on our next course of action.” The Empress continued turning away from her secretary. “All we would be doing is going over old ground. Over and over and over and over and over again.”

The Secretary had winked at me. As it turned out he had also been extremely happy with the idea that his Empress needed a holiday and had “arranged” matters so that she could go off to enjoy herself.

“

Lord Voorhis,” The Empress had finally decided on the proper arrangement of her belongings and luggage.

“Imperial Majesty.”

“What did the Emperor, my Father, do for fun?”

“He hunted.” Lord Voorhis responded. “He planned elaborate tortures and executions for enemies that had insulted him or his loved ones. He also actually rather enjoyed poetry, dancing and chamber music.”

“When was the last time I got to go on a hunt? Or read a book or listen to some music?”

Lord Voorhis said nothing.

“I am escorted by the best of the best, the danger is relatively minimal. The seas are choppy so the Skeleton Ship is some distance away still. The worst that is going to happen is that I get cold and wet.”

Lord Voorhis nodded unhappily, finally allowing himself to be persuaded. “I will have Madame Yennefer prepare you a properly vile concoction for when you return in order to dispel any cold that you might have picked up.” He told her sourly.

She walked over to him and hugged him fiercely. “I love you for your concern Lord Voorhis, but I promise you that I will be fine.”

The Empress finally got her saddlebags settled as best she could before she turned to her armour which she started to put on with the help of a bemused looking maid.

“Besides, it's not as if precautions aren't being taken. Are they Lord Frederick?” She raised an eyebrow at me.

“I'll let Kerrass explain.” I deferred to the Witcher.

“Lord Frederick is always in contact with the lady Ariadne of the Lodge of Sorceresses. At the express orders of myself, rather than the Empress, Lord Frederick will contact the Lady Ariadne, Countess of Angral and the Empress will be teleported away from harm and into the waiting arms of the ritual circle that Lady Yennefer has arranged to be set up in the bowels of Kaer Trolde. The Empress will obey my orders on the road without hesitation otherwise she will be rendered unconscious, by me, and returned to the castle immediately.”

“You and whose army?” The Empress wondered with a smile.

Kerrass grinned nastily. “Your Imperial Majesty may be assuming that she has seen me at my best. While also assuming that she is at her peak of training and fitness. Combat is a perishable skill after all. Also, I will win because I'm crafty.”

“ooooohhhhh Goody.” The Empress danced from one foot to the other. “This is going to be so much fun.”

“The Empress will also be doing her fair share of camp work.” Kerrass informed her without pause, “and would be wise to avail herself of an extra blanket. I suspect that it is colder out there than she thinks it is.”

“The last thing I need is another mother.” The Empress did some twists and stretches to settle the armour about herself before picking up her sword that she slung on her back.

“I still want it registered that this is a bad idea.” Lord Voorhis warned.

“So noted.” The Empress told him. “But it's happening now.” She checked the position of her sword before nodding, slung her saddlebags over her shoulder and walked past us.

Our little procession went through some of the corridors of the keep until we came through the great hall of Kaer Trolde. The noise as we appeared was deafening. Warriors, and guards hammered spears on the ground, clattered sword on shield, clapped hands and slapped chests. They were chanting a name that I did not recognise.

“What's that they're saying?” I asked the Imperial Secretary who I found I was walking next to.

“They call her the Swallow.” He answered with a grin. “It's one of her many names, given to her by and Elf I understand and the Skelligans like it.”

“Of course they do.”

We came into the courtyard where the three horses were waiting in all of their gear. One of the things Kerrass had been arranging while I was having my axe stolen was to have the Empress' horse brought out and properly equipped. The Empress spent a bit of time securing her goods on the back of her horse. My gear was already on my horse so I sat back and watched.

“Did I play my part well Lord Frederick?” Lord Voorhis had pushed through the crowd to my side.

“In all honesty Lord Voorhis, I would have thought you didn't want her to go.” I will admit to having been surprised at his abrupt change of heart.

“I don't, but you are right. She does need a break.”

“Lady Yennefer persuaded you did she?”

“Lady Yennefer can be particularly persuasive when she wants to be.”

“What did she do?”

Lord Voorhis said nothing. He wasn't happy and I didn't want to tease him any further.

“Bring her back to us Lord Frederick.” He told me. He was frightened and that did more to keep me honest that any number of threats or promises of dire consequences if the Empress came back hurt or worse.

But it was my turn to take part in the ceremony now. I went up, climbed up onto my horse, stowing my spear at it's place slightly behind and to the right of the saddle. I did the proper checks quickly and automatically, which was when the final blessings were done by a priestess of Freyja who tapped our heads and the heads of our horses with a sprig of mistletoe that had been dipped in mead. Then we mounted up before being handed the horn of departure.

The largest, most ancient and most ornamental drinking horn that I have ever seen. A little over half filled with a strong, fortified alcoholic drink. Probably based on mead originally but I didn't push my consumption in order to find out. I only took a small sip and even that meant that I narrowly avoided choking. I drank, The Empress drank and Kerrass drank. The Queen Cerys, Hjallmar and Lord Voorhis was pushed forward until he could take a drink. I had wondered if Lady Yennefer would be involved but it seemed as though she was better off being somewhere else.

Then Kerrass turned his horse and we left, the cheering crowds parted before us, the Empress next, waving to the Skelligans, greeting many of them by name with a smile, a wave and a shout while I brought up the rear.

It was a good, energising feeling to it all and the Empress' laughter more than made up for the light drizzle of rain that was coming up and over the mountains.

Now I know, I know, you want the dirt on what it's like to travel with the Empress. You want one of two extremes. The first being that you want to hear that she is a nightmare to travel with.

You want me to tell you that she was an absolute spoiled Princess, that she demanded to be served the best food, that we had to take care of her horse and gear. That we had to lay out her blankets and properly shelter her from the elements. That she refused to sit a watch...

Of course we set a watch. We had the Empress with us.

That she refused to sit a watch and expected her breakfast to be ready for her in the morning. When we weren't camping and staying in local inns, that she expected to be sleeping on the best bed in the house, that there was a bed warmer (A metal pan full of embers to heat the bed, not a young person before you go leaping to conclusions), a bath and someone to help her undress and get dressed in the morning.

She was, and did, none of those things.

Nor was she the perfect travelling partner. Doing things without complaining, responding with a joke and a smile, following instructions where required and sitting the worst watches of the night. Which is the middle watch.

The worst watch is the middle watch. Remember this.

That she treated everyone with respect and ease and that we glided through the countryside without problems in the same way that a knife would move through butter.

She did none of these things either.

She was a pretty good travel companion though. The problems came, if we're being honest with ourselves, from Kerrass and myself. We have been used to travelling as a pair for so long that the addition of an extra person was actually a a bit of an interference. Our normal camp arrangements were now needing adjustments. Food for two people that could easily fit inside my cooking pots was suddenly awkward and I would always end up making either too much food or far too little.

Yes, I still did all of the cooking. As I've mentioned before, Kerrass can just about cook a steak to a reasonably high standard and the Empress is one of those really strange people that views food as fuel. That's not to say that she doesn't appreciate a good meal when it's put in front of her but she would have been just as happy biting into a raw onion, some over cooked meat and some stale bread as she would have been to eat the finest gourmet meals that all the cooks in the land would have fallen over themselves to prepare for her table.

She claims that this is because she spent too much time on the run and just eating whatever was available at the time. That when you're starving, any food tastes good and she's never quite got out of the habit of that attitude. This is not made any better by the fact that her lunches are often served while she's standing up and moving between appointments and negotiations.

Although she did come out with an amusing anecdote about what happens when she spills something down one of her extremely elegant gowns at a state function. Something to do with salt apparently.

But as I say, it was actually Kerrass and I that were struggling with the extra person in our group more than anything. The Empress was more than used to taking care of herself but what that meant was that we needed to really work at it to divide the chores. When travelling like this, the Empress wanted to take care of her own horse, set out her own blankets and bed rolls. She wanted to make her own things to eat and was always surprised when she discovered one of the two of us already performing these chores. It took time to get used to.

One thing that did work was the training. Even by her own admission, the Empress was rusty. She did say that it had been a long time since she had last found the time to do any proper training in order to keep herself in proper shape. Not really since the other Witchers had left after her coronation. Apparently it just started getting awkward, finding real swords-masters that could match the skills that she was used to, or finding swordsmen that would actually dare to strike out against the Empress was also tricky and that there's only so much you can do with drills.

So that was something that she was grateful for and Kerrass took full advantage of. It was not a small thing though, being told to attack the leader of the continent. Accidents happen in training and it's a difficult thing to overcome when you think that if you slip or lose your grip then you could seriously damage the most important person currently alive. But we soon got the hang of it.

Kerrass out did himself in that regard, coming up with new drills and training that the three of us could do. It meant that we could have a three way fight where we each fought against each other. The danger coming from what happened when you attacked one person because then, the other person could take advantage of your overextending yourself and get a strike in. It was an interesting situation. We also did some drills of two people versus one person and rotated who the one person was.

Kerrass pushed the Empress hard. I was a little bit stiff myself having spent far too long in bed after the sea voyage. Although we had seen the Empress training over in Kaer Trolde, it became clear that she hadn't really been training. She had been practising which is different.

Training suggests the drive to improve and get better. Practise is working on an existing skill. I might have got those words the wrong way round but it seems right to me.

I will admit to being a little stiff in the morning of the first day but it was no more or less than I would normally feel after a little too much time off from doing any proper training. Just the price you pay for spending a few too many days and hours in bed.

The Empress suffered that first morning after a proper training session. She had enjoyed the training even though Kerrass had forbidden her from using her teleporting trick. She had asked why and he told her that it was a crutch. That over dependence on it was something that would get her killed. For some reason this caught her off guard and she needed a moment or two to recover her composure.

“Why is dangerous?” She asked later while we were sat round the camp fire, passing a skin of mead between us slowly.

“It's the same thing as when a spirit transports itself.” Kerrass told her. “Everyone knows that you can do it now so more and more people know the counter to it.”

“The Counter?”

“Freddie?”

I had been pretending not to listen while I was stirring the pot of food. “Mmm?”

“How do you counter the Empress' teleporting trick?”

I sighed. It's never nice to be put on the spot. It was still a little tricky to think of the Empress as Ciri, despite her plain clothes and the fact that she had been swearing at me in frustration a little earlier. She had really struggled with the fact that she couldn't land a blow on me when I was only concentrating on defense.

As I say, even by her own standards. She was very rusty. Not that I could land a strike on her, but even so.

“Well, she's either teleporting away to escape, or she's teleporting behind me to get a free strike. She even does it with the same kind of green flash that Spirits have. So I would drop into a roll the instant I saw that green flash.”

And yes Your Imperial Majesty if you're reading. Yes, I have just given your trick away in order to stop you using it all the time. Start coming up with new tricks.

Heh.

Oh, she's gonna make me suffer for that one.

Of course that meant that I had to demonstrate the following evening which left me with even more bruises.

But that first morning, the Empress issued her first complaint with a surprising amount of bile and abuse at the amount of stiffness that she felt in her bones.

But the Empress? She was just another travelling companion during those first few days on the way to visit the druids. We spent some time on the road, talking about Francesca. It was hard but I think it did us both some good. No, I'm not going to tell you what it was we talked about.

We came down the tunnel that takes you back into the town of Kaer Trolde to pick up the last of the supplies. Mostly the food and the fresh water as well as a couple of other bits. Normally, Kerrass told me, he would be fairly confident that we would be able to live off the land but during the time of the Skeleton Ship, that was far from guaranteed. So we did have another pack pony that was laden down with supplies that Kerrass had bought earlier. The preparation was well done in advance though and the mule was waiting for us next to the gate despite the extra delay that we had gone through with waiting for the Empress to pack.

Packing the Empress' gear was the one thing that we had not been able to do for her in advance. We were still being cheered on by the soldiers but now the people of Kaer Trolde were getting in on the act. It was very easy to forget, when she was wearing those ultra formal gowns in the safety of the keep, that The Empress had been coming to Skellige for many years before she ascended to the throne of the Golden Sun. So she was greeting many of the people that she saw by name. Old men and women that had taught her to skate on ice. Others that had taught her to sail the small sailing boats that the Skelligans love so much and still more that had taught her how to fish.

Not for the first time, I was astonished by her capacity for remembering everyone's names and the history that she shared with all of these people as she passed on by. Waving, smiling and laughing as she went. People talk about a weight being lifted off the shoulders of someone but it's very rare that you actually manage to actually see it happen in someone else. I was witnessing it now. She seemed.... She seemed free. To the point where I was honestly worried that she might be reluctant to come back down to the ground again afterwards.

It wasn't a serious worry. I was pretty sure that her sense of duty would carry her through, but I would be lying if I said that it wasn't a thought that crouched at the back of my mind.

We were let out of the gates outside of Kaer Trolde by the guards who saluted us as we went with stamping feet and clashing their axes on the rims of their shields.

And then we were out in the countryside. I thought it odd at first that there weren't people out here as well, people lining the road but when I commented on this, I was informed that the departure on a quest is a sacred thing. We had departed now and we needed to be left to travel on our quest. Left to our own devices.

What else can I say about travelling with the Empress during those first few days. It was not a surprise to me that she went through the entire gamut of emotions. When we first left the gates of Kaer Trolde she was exuberant, laughing and whooping about how she felt as though a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She didn't care about the wind or the weather, looking up into the sky and letting the water wash over her face. She looked like a woman freed from all cares and all problems. She even took her hood down so that she could, in her words, hear the wind in her ears and feel the rain on her head.

She was full of little memories about the place. The road from Kaer Trolde passes through a fairly narrow gorge and she would point out different rocks and tell childhood stories about them. About how Hjallmar had dared her to jump off this boulder or that stone and she had ripped her clothing meaning that Jarl Crach an Craite would be furious but kind of amused but that Grandmother Calanthe would set her ears ringing.

She laughed at the memories and I noticed that she never backed down from a challenge in any of the stories. All she needed to be told was that she wouldn't do something, couldn't do something or was too scared to do something and then she would ensure that she did the thing. If she couldn't do something through sheer physical capability then she would go away and work at the problem by either waiting to grow, getting stronger or finding a way around the obstacle. Then she would do the thing again and triumph. Even if that meant some kind of injury or illness.

Normally her partner in crime was Hjallmar as she seemed to get on better with him at the time. Cerys was younger than the pair of them and as a result, the two weren't that close while they were both growing up.

She came to a vertical cliff face and stopped her horse, staring up at it. I was bringing up the rear so I stopped with her while she gazed up at the dark stone. Without warning, her eyes were filled with tears.

“Uncle Crach taught me to climb here.” She said, not to me I think, or to Kerrass who had come back to see what the delay was. “Grandmother was furious with him but it was one of the few times that Crach stood up to her. “It's important that she learn,” he told her. “It will help her master her fears while at the same time, teaching her that there are some things that simply cannot be conquered.” Grandmother was unhappy and said so, at length for quite a long time but she subsided eventually. Crach thought of it in the same way that he thought of learning to swim, or ride, or sail. He was less convinced about learning to read and write but he came round on that as well. It's just one of those skills that you need in life so you should learn it when you can.”

She lapsed into silence. I couldn't tell whether there were tears on her face due to the rain.

“Did it work?” Kerrass asked.

“Sorry, what?” She wiped her face,

“Did learning to climb teach you to respect the mountain and that sooner or later, there are some things that you cannot overcome?”

She laughed and then her good mood was back. “No.” She answered. “No it didn't. It did teach me to respect the mountain but it also taught me that anything can be achieved with proper preparation, the right tools and the right circumstances. A lesson that was reinforced in Kaer Morhen as a matter of fact.”

“Yes, but Witchers also teach that there are some things that should be walked away from.” I put in.

“They do. Yet I notice how often they ignore those rules.” Ciri, because she was being Ciri now rather than the Empress, grinned. “For instance, a Witcher sat on a horse, not a million miles away from me now, should never have gone into the woods of Amber's crossing. Nor should he have challenged a Dragon.”

She turned her horse away and we started riding again.

“If Father had stayed with his sacred neutrality, I would, quite literally, not be here. I would probably be dead in a ditch somewhere. Which is also proof, at least to me, that all the things about Witchers being emotionless killing machines is utter nonsense.”

“There is a time and a place for rules.” Kerrass agreed. “But also, a time and a place for rules to be broken. And every man, and every Witcher, must decide for themselves when that needs to happen.”

“I'll drink to that,” Ciri responded. “Or I would if I had anything to drink.”

I groaned as Kerrass shook his head and Tutted. “Majesty.” I exclaimed. “I thought you were an experienced traveller of the roads of the Continent. One of the first rules that Kerrass taught me.”

Kerrass was reaching into one of his saddlebags and produced a large dark glass bottle. “Never travel without something to keep you warm.”

He uncorked it, took a swig and passed it back to the laughing Empress.

Time passed like that really. She would point out places that sparked particular memories for her. Some memories were old. Very old such as memories of her mother who she could remember nothing about other than the colour of her hair and the smell of her perfume. She had not been able to find that same scent anywhere even though she looked on a regular basis.

She remembered riding with King Eist of Clan Tuirseach and his brother King Bran. She remembered being taught to swim in that lake and about how the family had gone out for a picnic over in that small meadow. Some of her other memories were more recent though but they were the memories that she wasn't as comfortable talking about and a shadow came over her face when she reached for them.

We stopped early as it was plain to see, even to me, that things were getting on top of the Empress a little bit. I suppose it was a bit like some form of battlefield reaction. She had been pushing forward and pushing forward for so long that she was beginning to wind down. A little bit of Kerrass' strong apple brandy, the open road and being assailed by the bittersweet memories of a relatively happy childhood overlaid with more recent traumas and the reminders of grief. Now that she was not having to force herself to be the Empress she was winding down. What my sister would describe as “un-spooling” and it was leaving her feeling raw and naked before the onslaught of thoughts that were occurring to her.

There's often nothing to do on the road, other than to chat with the person riding next to you and so you have to come up with way, not to distract yourself, but ways to pass the time. Kerrass and I have almost perfected the art of talking about nothing at all. We can do it for hours and hours at a time, never repeating ourselves and just going through the motions. When one or other of us is in need of silence and solitude in order to think about things, the other finds ways to amuse themselves. If the road is wide, and relatively easy I have been known to get a book out and read.

After a while, or after a bit of practise, you get to a kind of strange meditative trance where the miles will just pass under the hooves of your horse. In wilder areas, you have to be more aware, scanning the undergrowth for waiting bandit ambushes and monsters lying in wait. But on those roads that are more well maintained and patrolled by the local lords or the garrisons, then the monotony of just putting one foot or hoof in front of the other can leave you feeling quite alone in a crowd.

Which, in turn, leaves you alone with your own thoughts.

That can sometimes be tricky. Especially if you have just come from a period of high stress or high action. For an example, the journey during the aftermath of Amber's crossing is extreme but it does illustrate how it can affect a person.

And it was affecting the Empress now. The fact that she hadn't taken a break, really, since her coronation if not before, was showing. She was twitching and starting. She actually tried to go back to Kaer Trolde on two occasions with the mistaken belief that she had forgotten something or that there were duties that needed performing. We repeated her own words back to her about how her secretary had things in hand and about how she had been looking forward to this and life on the open road.

But in the end, it was just decided that we needed to stop and find somewhere to camp.

Not as easy as it sounds given the weather conditions but Kerrass found somewhere with the help of Ciri who knew the land in the local area and led us to a small hollow in a group of trees. It looked like the kind of outpost that was regularly maintained by someone, as there was a stack of firewood under an oilskin, a small ring of stones over some charred earth for a fire pit and Ciri was able to show us where to get fresh water.

She was really struggling at this point and although she insisted on caring for her own horse, which we hoped might calm her down, she was getting pretty useless until we ordered her to go lie down and get some sleep.

Tellingly she fell asleep almost straight away as Kerrass and I did some basic camp chores. I started cooking while Kerrass did some minor repairs on some of his armour, he got his mobile alchemy kit out and set some potions to brew, that kind of thing.

The Empress woke suddenly and abruptly after a couple of hours, full of nervous energy which was when Kerrass declared that it was time to see just how badly the Empress had allowed her skills to decay after several months on the throne.

It turned out to be that she was worse than she thought it was but not as bad as Kerrass had feared. I could just about parry all her strikes when we were paired up if I really worked at it but she would punish me if I had the temerity to mount any kind of attack. That was about where she was.

She felt better for the exercise though and we took shelter back in our little hollow as the night started to fall and the wind started to howl.

The food needed a bit longer. I've started to become really possessive of my camp cooking skills. I would never work in a castle Kitchen or in any of the inns or taverns, but I like to think that I can cook a decent meal off a camp fire now and for it to be better than the ingredients that I'm given.

The Empress sat, staring into the flames hugging her legs to her chest.

“What's it like?” I asked her.

“Hmm?”

“The Skeleton Ship?”

Kerrass was checking the results of his earlier alchemical work before stowing the various bottles in his pouches and boxes but I noticed his Witcher eyes reflecting in the firelight as his interest perked up.

She sighed and rubbed her head, shaking herself loose from whatever train of thought that she had been in before.

“What's it like.” She said almost to herself. “It's like nothing you've ever seen before.”

She stared into the fires for a long while, long enough that I thought that this was all that I was going to get. I looked over at Kerrass but he pointed me back at the Empress.

“When I first saw the Naglfar, the ship that the Wild Hunt travels on when it's travelling by sea?” She glanced up at me.

I nodded to show that I understood.

“When I saw that ship for the first time, with those armoured warriors on the deck, the hounds of ice bounding towards me, I remember feeling relief that it wasn't the Skeleton Ship. Just one of those strange little feelings that you get before you're about to leap into combat.”

There was a pause as she considered what to say next.

“What can I say that you haven't already heard?

“It's big. Bigger than any ship that currently sails the seas around the continent. Black as well. It looks as though it's caked with a strange black liquid as, if you're really close to the ship as it passes, you can see the black droplets in it where the liquid has dried.

“It's both terrifying and incredibly sad. I remember thinking of it like this huge old hound that has lost it's way. Like those stories that you used to get as a child. About the heroic wolfhound that has lost it's way. So it travels around looking for a way home and in doing so it helps families and little boys...”

She grinned, “Never little girls though,”

Kerrass and I laughed.

“But then, at the end of the story, the dog runs off into the trees, or grass in it's determination to get home and the parent of the child has to come and console the child that the dog just needs to get home.”

She smiled at the thought.

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“That's what the Ghost Ship reminds me of. This lost, angry and hurt animal that doesn't know what it wants to do with itself. It doesn't know what it's doing and it comes here and dances around in a fury until it calms down again before turning for home.”

She stared into the fire for a bit longer and I thought I saw her wiping a tear from her face at one point when she thought we weren't looking.

“People talk a lot of bullshit about it as well I think.” She said suddenly into the silence. “They talk about how the lines between reality and imagination are blurred when the ship comes. Some others claim that the ship is that which ferried the dead into the next world but I don't believe that either. It is very real. You can see the physical effect it has on the world as it passes. The cracking ice and things that are left bobbing in the bay for days to come before it all finally melts.”

She laughed. “Uncle Crach once claimed that the bird that accompanies it, flying high in the skyhad shit on him once but I never quite believed it. He would always make up these little stories in order to make us all smile or laugh or shiver in fear.”

There was another pause then.

“The one thing that I will say for sure though, is that it is a time for tears and sadness. You cannot help it when the Skeleton Ship sails by. If you're still here when it passes through the harbour, you should make an effort to come and see it. As I said before, the last time I saw it was after my mother died. I remember feeling as though she was stood next to me, as though a small amount of her perfume had been blown towards me in a gust from another world that touched no other. It's odd, but I miss her. Even though I barely remember her now but I would like to talk to her. I would like to know what she thought about everything. Even though, on balance, I am probably older than she was when she died.

“But I have lost so many people since then and I want to see if they will be there when the Skeleton Ship passes. They say that the dead are much closer to us when the ship passes. I don't believe if for a moment but I kind of hope that it's true. Is that odd?”

“Not that odd.” Kerrass told her but she seemed to ignore him.

“I have lost so many people since.... well....since everything really.”

We spent the rest of the evening in silence. Much more subdued than I was expecting. A little sad and a little maudlin. Kerrass and I had already agreed that a watch would be set. We normally wouldn't bother but with the Empress in the camp, it felt as though we should take some extra precautions.

Ciri slept late and neither Kerrass nor I were inclined to wake her up. She had the look of a woman who had needed some proper rest, some proper sleep and we wanted to give that to her if we possibly could. I made porridge for breakfast and we just waited for her to wake up.

She was a bit better the rest of that day and that night we paid a local shepherd to stay in one of his barns due to the fact that the rain was more than a little... I wanna say torrential. Little more than an outbuilding that was used for storage but it kept us dry. We were perched on bits of wood and made a small fire to cook the food that Kerrass bought off the Shepherds wife who was astonished that the Empress was sleeping in her husband's barn.

She tried to insist that the Empress stay in the house and that she and her husband would be more than happy to stay in the barn themselves but Ciri insisted that she would not put these people out of their own beds. That she was happy to stay in the barn, eventually inventing something about a secret diplomatic mission which meant that it was vital that she stay incognito.

I was a little surprised. The people around Ard Skellig know who Ciri is and know what she looks like. As we rode, they would call out to her by name and wave. Ciri, being who she is, would wave back and greet the person, often by name followed by a question as to how the person's spouse was or how the fishing was faring. Followed by a bout of mutual dismay at the coming of the Skeleton Ship and how it was going to affect everyone.

I did ask her why she didn't try and disguise herself. Hair dye is relatively cheap and at the end of the day, I was confident in Lady Yennefer's ability to cast some kind of illusion over her daughter in order to conceal her true identity but Ciri had shaken her head.

“For some reason, hair dye doesn't work with my hair. It just runs out in the rain, or if I go near steam, or remotely damp air really.” She said it with a grin. “Believe me, life would have been a lot easier over the years if that wasn't the case. Also there's the matter of my scar. It announces who I am to the world, but if I wasn't scarred then I might attract attention of a different, less savoury sort.”

Her face darkened. “It has happened before after all.”

Just as quickly, her expression cleared. “But some of these people have known me since I was a baby. I was forced by circumstances to avoid them last time I was travelling through Skellige. Just one more little luxury that I don't want to deny myself.”

Which was fair enough.

We stopped off at a tavern for some lunch that day in a village that I didn't catch the name of. Lunch was carved from a roast big that was cooking over the open fire in the middle of the room. I was handed some bread and a large man with the largest fucking cleaver that I've ever seen cut a truly ridiculous amount of meat off the thing and dumped it on my plate. I would have walked away before he also gave me a small pot of apple sauce and asked me if I wanted stuffing.

“I beg your pardon?” One of those reflex moments where if I could bring the words back into my mouth and swallow them then I would do so. I sounded like such a posh, stuck up idiot that I honestly wanted to batter myself.

“Stuffing.” He told me as if that explained everything. “Sage and Onion. Do you want it?”

“Ummm, yes please.” A large spoonful of the stuff was also dumped on my plate so that I had to juggle the large mug of ale that I had also been handed with the plate so that I could carry it all back to the table where Kerrass and Cir were laughing at me.

“I do like the Skellige isles.” Kerrass commented. “They know how to do food properly.”

Ciri mumbled something that sounded like agreement as she mopped up the meat juices that were running down her chin.

During the rest of that outbound journey, we didn't see anything that anyone had been worried about. No bandits or marauders. No monsters of any stripe. All we saw was...

Ciri put it best. I suppose that you can't really hang around with professor Dandelion too much before you start picking up the odd poetic turn of phrase. She described it as “People partying against the end of the world.” Since Queen Cerys' reforms, there was less food shortages. With the enforced rationing as well as shipping companies like my families business helping to bring much needed supplies into the islands to help provide for the losses incurred during the time of the Skeleton Ship, there was less need for caution. There was still people that could be seen slaughtering livestock, packing hay against the walls of their houses. Hammering extra boards over windows and making sure that all of the cracks in the thatch, or the stonework, were properly blocked in order to keep the cold out and the warmth in.

But there wasn't as much fear as I had imagined there to be given the stories that we had listened to when we had first arrived.

After that first days melancholy, the Empress became more of an upbeat personality and started to enjoy the journey more. She had ensured that she was on holiday until “this business with the druids was concluded”. A very nebulous and indistinct term that had a lot of room for different interpretations. Ciri laughed when I pointed that out and shrugged before leading us off on one of the many little diversions that she insisted on. So that she could see places in a new light that she hadn't seen since she was a child, or since she was last here. A time of her life that she didn't really want to talk about. But she would take us to a place and insist that we buy a beer from this place or that place. That we buy a sausage from this butcher or that butcher.

She had a weakness for this fruit bread that they sold in the local areas that was a little too sickly sweet for my taste, but she loved it and bought it from every baker that she could find.

Kerrass took it all in his stride.

But despite the delays that the Empress forced on us, we eventually came to the headquarters of the druids.

The Skelligan circle of Druids is the largest circle of Druids in the “North”. There might be bigger conclaves in the Greater Nilfgaardian empire but something makes me doubt that quite a lot as in Skellige they could avoid the crackdowns of other religions, avoiding the Eternal Fire, the Everlasting Sun, And the lightening bolts of Kreve. They're situated round a large hill with a series of standing stones around the place. On top of the hill is a large tree that serves as both the druidic seat of power and the focus of all of their magics and rites. But it is also this place that is used when new Kings, or Queens, of Skellige are crowned. It is supposed to be a neutral place where no violence can happen but I wonder.

I thought it looked quite homely really. There are several other small houses that are disguised as small hills with little doors that go inside. There is supposed to be a warren of tunnels underneath the hills which is where the Druids really live and gossip and work.

It was odd. I had always imagined the Druids to be these terrible and terrifying old men but when we first came upon them. Riding up the path that Ciri had led us to, unerringly and without pause, we were first greeted by a pair of men in robes who were smoking from long clay pipes. Both of them had shaved their heads in the form of tonsures, another thing that the Church of the Eternal Flame and monks everywhere had taken from the druids. The difference was that the Druid's tonsure was a little bit further towards the front of their skulls.

They were relatively young men, much younger than I thought they would be. Despite the weather they seemed to wear relatively thin robes with small sickles at their waist as well as various pouches and bags and they pointed us further up the hill where we found a much older druid taking a group of small children out into the undergrowth where he was making them giggle by pulling funny faces and telling them stories about the strange affairs of badgers.

We came to the doorway into the side of the hill that we had been directed, to which was open and we were forced to duck as we went in. The closest thing I could think of was that it looked like some kind of inn or tavern.

To say that it existed inside a hill underneath the roots of this ancient tree makes it sound stuffy and close. With a smoky atmosphere and strange sights and sounds. You're probably imagining having to duck your head and avoid obstacles, I know that I was but this actually wasn't the case.

Instead of feeling close and stuffy, it instead felt cosy. It felt like home. I don't know by what tricks of nature, science or magic this was managed but there was a good flow of air that smelt like a spring morning rather than the late summer, early autumn that we were supposed to be in. Or the deepening cold that was supposed to herald the arrival of the Skeleton ship. As well as the fire that was in the middle of the room there was also benches and work desks along the walls. At the back of the room there was a large area of shelving where I could see the outline of bowls, pots and sacks put there carefully and neatly. There was smoke, there was no denying that but it had a sweet and gentle smell to it. Not just the fire in the middle of the room which was largely smokeless, but also from the pipes of the many druids that were sat around the edges of the room. It almost seemed to be a hobby, as to who could blow the biggest and most impressive smoke rings, or who could generate the largest cloud of sweet smelling tobacco smoke.

Truth be told it was making me feel a little light headed.

I was also taken aback by the food. Younger men were moving between the older men and handing out a fishy stew along with hunks of meat. There were plenty of vegetables and breads as well but I had always imagined the druids to be vegetarians. Again, I have no idea why.

It seemed like quite a relaxed kind of place. If it wasn't for some of the younger students working with the herbs or grinding things down in clay bowls, I would have assumed that it was the kind of place that people retired to.

And they all, without exception, hated Kerrass on sight.

The aura of menace was palpable and was focused on Kerrass in the same way that a child will focus on their toy. Or when you walk into a tavern in a countryside area and all the locals turn on you with unfriendly eyes and scepticism. And that's what it reminded me of.

For his part, Kerrass ignored it. But I remembered it to be strange that the druids didn't seem to care about me. It was Kerrass that they despised and only him but I was diverted from whatever thought process that I was on by a squeal and a shout from the Empress.

“Uncle Mousesack.” She shouted and bounded through the room, hurdling the fire and pushing past two startled looking old man that she flashed a look of apology back at before almost leaping into the arms of the chief druid Ermion who hugged her back with a smile. He looked up, seemed to notice Kerrass and I for the first time, before waving us forward.

“Ah, young Swallow.” The old man began, his voice a little higher but also a little raspier than I was expecting. “You seem better than the last time I saw you.”

“That's not saying a great deal though, let's be honest.”

“True,” he commented before shuffling her round so he could keep an arm round the grinning Empress and offering me his hand. “And you are Lord Frederick von Coulthard.”

“I am that, Lord Ermion.” I said, bowing. “I'm sorry that we didn't get a chance to talk back in Kaer Trolde.”

The old man smiled. “I think, it would not be unfair to say that we both had other things on our mind at the time,” he had a way of speaking that reminded me of my father and Grandfather before him. He was drawing out the syllables of the words so what might have been a relatively short sentence actually seemed to turn into a long speech. It was the speech of a man who knew that he was the most important man there and that everyone would be forced to listen to him. It was the voice of a man who knew that he had the time.

“I understand that I have you to thank in order to prevent the young Swallow here from making a foolish mistake.”

“I think that would be an exaggeration sir.” I told him. “She prevented herself. I can make no decisions for her majesty that she could not make for herself.”

“Nevertheless.”

Then he sighed and took a deep breath, as though steeling himself to do something unpleasant. “And you must be Witcher Kerrass of the Feline school.”

“I am. An honour, Lord Ermion.” The two men faced each other for a moment before the Druid shook his head.

“Forgive us Master Kerrass. Witchers and Druids do not mix easily.” He raised his voice a little and I guessed that he was taking this opportunity to teach a couple of lessons to the people nearby. “But the task of killing unnatural or magically born monsters is a vital one, even if we do not always agree on what constitutes a monster.”

Kerrass bowed.

“Well then,” Ermion lowered his voice again. “You are a Witcher and Witchers never come knocking unless they want something. Nearly always something that they know I would disagree with so lets go somewhere more private so that these people don't get worried at the sounds of my shouting at you. Come this way.”

He finally managed to extract himself from Ciri's embrace and led us to the back of the room. Past the shelves full of plants, sacks and whatever else that the druids might have wanted. Then he led us through a door and into another strange room that had a glass roof.

I swear that this is true. A glass roof through which daylight came. It was warm and muggy in that room, helped by a small fountain in the middle of the room.

“You like our green house?” Ermion asked me.

“Oh is that what it is.” I commented, trying to sound knowledgable. Kerrass laughed at me.

“Do not be fooled Lord Ermion.” Kerrass told him. “He has no idea what you're talking about.”

Ermion seemed surprised by Kerrass' display of humour but then turned back to me as we moved through.

“Some plants, if not all plants, are not really at home in the climate of the Skelligan isles. Many herbs need warmer, damper air and still more need to be protected from the harsh light of the sun. They live here. Still fed by the sun but also kept warm and damp. There are samples of herbs in this room that only exist in a handful of other places in the continent.”

I am paraphrasing that. He did give a couple of examples but after finding out how expensive some of these herbs are to buy, I had visions of people turning up in those places that still grow them and have the facilities to grow them properly and raiding them for the expensive herbs.

There were a couple more young men working in the “green house”, stripped to the waist they glistened with a combination of sweat from the heat and the fine mist of water that was in the air. They were good looking men too, if the Empresses gaze was anything to go by.

We moved through some more plants and were led through another door and into a corridor where there were more doors opening off on either side. Lord Ermion picked one, opened it while gesturing for the Empress to precede him and followed her in. Leaving the door open for Kerrass and myself to follow.

The room we were in turned out to be an office. Not entirely unlie any other kind of office that you see in the university, or my sister's study, or the offices that I use when I'm back at Castle Coulthard. There was a desk, a work-bench, a hearth in which a small fire was burning and several shelves with books and scrolls stacked neatly. The only thing missing was the conference table.

There was also a sizeable drinks table with various bottles of different coloured glass.

“So then,” Ermion sat down behind the desk, giving off a little sigh of contentment at being lowered into the cushions. “What can I do for you Witcher? It must be something that I'm not going to like if you took the precaution of bringing the Empress with you. It's a good ploy and I I'm glad to see that she is doing much better. But I warn you that I am not so easily swayed.”

“Actually, Hierophant,” Kerrass was smiling slightly as he used Lord Ermion's proper title. “It is not myself that has come to ask you for help.”

“Really?” The two men had become locked into a contest of wills. I do not know who started it but it was a fierce contest. Nor did I know the motives behind it starting. “How strange. Witchers always want things. What do you want, Witcher Kerrass?”

Have you ever been to see professional Gwent players plying their trade? The real formidable guys who make their living out of it. When they sit down opposite each other and lock eyes and wills? It was like that, watching Lord Ermion and Kerrass interact.

“What do I want?” Kerrass repeated. “What do I want?” he seemed to think a bit longer. “I want freedom from distractions. Clarityin life and of purpose. To love and be loved without complications. I want certainty and freedom from doubts. Can you give me any of that Hierophant?”

“I might.”

“But in the meantime, I would be greatly appreciative if you could help my friend. He and his family have been sorely tried and if there is anything that you can do to help him then I would appreciate it.”

“Truly, that is all you want?”

Kerrass considered. “In which case, a few samples from your greenhouse. Some of those samples are increasingly tricky to come by.”

Ermion laughed. “Done and done. Much to my astonishment, I find that I like you Master Kerrass. I have heard nothing but bad things about the Feline school and as a druid I tend to dislike Witchers on principle, but you seem cut from a different cloth in some way.”

Kerrass winced. “Everything you have heard about the Feline school is true. Other than the normal lies that everyone tells of course.”

“Of course.”

“But we are men and Witchers nonetheless. It might have been kinder to let some of our members die. But...” Kerrass shrugged.

Ciri had wandered over to the drinks table and was examining bottles, sniffing the contents before pouring a series of drinks.

“Why do you hate Witchers?” I asked. “I have so many questions.”

“You would not be a scholar or an educator if you didn't Lord Frederick.” The druid said with a smile. “But I understand that you do not enjoy being called Freddie.”

I winced, “No more than I suspect that you enjoy being called “Mousesack” Lord Hierophant.” I told him. “But I suspect that that is now outside of my control. I honestly believe that when people are talking about what to put on my tombstone, some people will wonder who “Frederick” von Coulthard is and whether or not I was his brother.”

Ermion smiled. “There is a certain amount of inevitability to it all isn't there. The names and titles that others give us,”

“As you say.” I said, accepting the small cup that Ciri handed round.

“Is now a good time to tell you that I am a fan?” Ermion asked.

“How?” Not my greatest first question but it was the first thing that came to mind. “What? Why?”

Ermion smiled. “In talking about the human condition, you are saying that there are things out there and in here,” he tapped his own head, “that need to be thought about.”

“But I thought that druids aren't allowed to read?” I asked him. “I thought that that was the point, an aural tradition.”

“We're not.” He told me, something glittered in the depths of his eyes.

“But....” I looked at the shelves full of books and scrolls in confusion before my brain almost audibly gave up and I shrugged. “I take it that the books and scrolls have very informative pictures then.” I said faintly.

“And diagrams.” The Druid answered with an absolutely straight face. “Now what can I do for you.... Freddie and where does the Empress fall into the middle of all of this?.”

I took a long drink from the cup which was a slightly weaker version of the more fortified mead that I had drunk before. There was something herbal in there as well that I couldn't recognise. Ermion watched me as I drank from the cup, again with a glint deep in his eyes that I could not fathom.

“Well,” I began slowly, “It's like this. You have read... or had read to you, the accounts of what happened with my sister in Toussaint.”

“I have. I thought the account most intriguing.”

“And have you also read about the events regarding the cult of the first-born which was linked with how my father died?”

“I have not read, but I am aware.”

“Forgive me. In which case, you will be aware that Kerrass and I were informed by a power, that the magic used in order to kidnap my sister was “ancient and alien,”

“So why have you come to me?”

“Uncle,” Ciri warned, “you are being deliberately obstructive. You know perfectly well why we have come here.”

“Not quite. I know why this gentleman is here,” Ermion pointed at me. “But I do not know why he brought a Witcher here and I especially don't know why he brought you here.”

“He did not bring me here,” Ciri set her cup carefully aside. “I came here by myself. I may have been invited but that does not mean anything. I am here because I can be here and because Francesca was dear to me too. I had not realised how important she was to me until she was gone.”

Ermion sat there, absorbing this in silence. Then he turned back to me.

“Why did you come to me?” He said again. “You are marrying a Sorceress, you are collaborating with another one on a work which I find, frankly, a little bit irresponsible...”

“Why?”

“You write about creatures in the world and what it's really like out there. That is sensible. In order to educate people so that they know how to stay out of the way of things like Griffins and Cockatrices. In teaching them what to look for in Nechrophage and Nekker nests. These things are important. But you yourself have remarked that to talk about creatures such as the Jack figure are to draw their attention on to yourself. But you intend to publish a book on the subject. Dangerously irresponsible indeed.”

“And a condition of my release.”

Ermion shook his head. “It would have been better for everyone concerned if you had died there rather than spreading dangerous knowledge on that subject.”

I felt myself stiffen at the rebuke.

“Unkind Uncle.” Ciri admonished. “He could not be human and do other than he did.”

“Not really that unkind.” Of all people it was Kerrass that leapt to the druid's defence. “We are all forgetting that this is druidism, where the lives and existence of the many outweigh the existence of the few. Druids operate on the bigger picture. They have to.”

“Quite right.” Ermion said, his eyes widening a little in what I thought was astonishment. “Are you sure you're a Witcher.”

“I didn't say I agreed with you.” Kerrass told him with a nasty smile.

“Ah,” Ermion answered with a smile of his own before shaking his head. “This is the thing that people don't understand. Even the illustrious Witcher Geralt of Rivia who I like a great deal despite his ridiculous infatuation with a certain raven haired Sorceress that I could mention, fails to understand that singular point. Which is this.”

He skewered Ciri with a glare. “I do not work for you. I do not answer to you.” Then he turned to me. “Nor you. The world is simply not going to revolve around you and that, in the long run, even if you do not find your sister, the mountains and the trees and the rivers will barely notice her passing. They are my concern, not yours.”

“So are you saying that you won't help me?” I asked after a moment, carefully.

Then he laughed. A rich deep noise that I had not expected. “Nothing of the sort. As it happens, as I say, I am a little bit of a fan of yours. You do good work, even if you do follow a Witcher around.”

“Why the hate of Witchers?” I asked, suddenly it seemed an important topic.

“I don't hate Witchers.” He told me. “Nor do any other druids really. But I pity them. They are magical creatures, torn from the natural order of things and that's when they are not the products of destiny themselves, which I understand that you are not Witcher Kerrass?”

“No,” Kerrass responded. “No, I am no “child surprise”. Just a very normal child that the village and my mother could no longer afford to feed.” He held out his cup to Ciri for a refill. Ciri wasn't paying attention though. I got the feeling that she was angry.

“Fortunate for you, but even so, you should have been allowed to starve in that village. That was the natural result of your parents not taking proper precautions and overpopulating their corner of the world. That is how nature works. If too many cubs are produced then the cub dies. Harsh but necessary. Only humans do not do that and it will be our undoing in the end.”

“But you were talking about Witchers?” I prompted.

“I was. It's a problem with being a teacher and an educator. I am always tempted to teach lessons. To throw as many lessons into the ears of my students in the hope that some of those lessons will stick and, just for variety, someone will listen.

“You understand that do you not Freddie. You regularly go off on obscure and esoteric tangents in order to illustrate your points?”

“Yes I do.” I admitted. “Yes I do, but at least in that regard I am endeavouring to illustrate a singular lesson rather than several, or to distract from the point.”

“Ah,” Ermion smiled the smile of Professors everywhere when they realise that they have just had a point scored against them. “Witchers are a subversion of the natural order of things. Whether it is the subversion of the forces of destiny.... Yes, I was very interested in your brothers all to brief lecture on the tapestry of life even though he missed out the descriptions of true beauty that can be found in the chaotic forms of nature.... or whether it is the subversion of normal life and it's processes. Witchers are the taking of normal children and doing horrible, unnatural things to them. It is not a surprise to me that these things are done to them with the help of magic, without which, the experiments and the trials of grasses, dreams and what have you, would fail. Nor is it a surprise to me that these things result in death sixty percent of the time. The Natural order's correcting of the mistake I think.”

“A little harsh.” Kerrass commented. “I might even be offended if I hadn't heard these arguments made before.”

“Indeed, they are the common arguments of Druids and others.” Ermion agreed. “The monster problem was an increasing threat, I will not deny that. Magical intrusion into this world was unwanted and the natural system, of this world, would have found a way to correct it.”

“But it hasn't though has it?”

“What do you mean?” It wasn't until Ermion turned his gaze to me that it became clear that it was me that had said that.

“Well, we are all still here and we are monsters to this world as well.” I told him. “That mankind has survived would suggest that nature has accepted us, otherwise nature could easily have destroyed us all by, I don't know, making it impossible for us to breath. If we are accepted, then so to must be our intelligence and our abilities. We made the Witchers with that knowledge. If nature didn't want that knowledge to be a thing then why did it allow it in the first place?”

“And so the debate goes.” Ermion said. “Magic and humanity came through to the continent from other places. Also, you are missing an argument there for those people that are pro-magic and pro-Witcher. There is an argument to be made that the Conjunction of spheres which brought magic, monsters and other phenomenon here, is also a natural phenomenon. We know that it has happened before and it proves that this world is only one of so many other worlds. Indeed, there is someone sat, not a million miles away from me now that has been to visit some of those worlds.”

It was not lost on me that both Ermion and Ciri used the same expression.

“So the very fact that people and species and things move from one world to the next, often without their own will, just turn up on different shores. That is a magical effect. In our world, or rather, in this world as it doesn't belong to us. Magic is an alien things but on a universal and multiversal scale. Magic is a thing. So Magic, is actually, the most natural thing of all.”

“Are you not just arguing against your own case there.”

“Of course. How do you think you strengthen your own ideals. You sit down and try to figure out why you are wrong. Sometimes, you may find that your views become reinforced. Other times you may find a hole in your own thinking and might be forced to fill it.

“That second argument is why I don't advise the destruction of Witchers. I don't like Witchers. But I dislike Witchers in the same way that the common man dislikes the executioner that lives on the edge of town. I don't like Witchers because they force the world to conform to whatever shape that they want it to bend to rather than just letting it grow. I don't like Witchers because of the different views on what a monster is and what a monster might be.

“I don't like Witchers because they were forced on us. A group of people decided that they were a good idea and put them together. Learning how to deal with the problem of magical creatures should be something that society has to figure out by itself and, in doing so, grow stronger for it. That is nature.

“We didn't do that. We palmed the problem off onto someone else.”

He looked back at me specifically. During that little speech his gaze had been wandering from one face to the next as he spoke but now he looked at me.

“One of the chapters of your work I especially enjoyed was the part where you wrote about the meeting that you had regarding “Should there be any more Witchers?” I notice that I wasn't invited to take part in that discussion by the way.”

“Of course you weren't.” The Empress said. “You would not have listened to alternatives. Your mind is made up. My job, as Empress, is not to preserve the natural system. My job is to save the lives of my subjects. If I can do so while preserving the natural system then that will be a bonus. I wanted people with open minds who would add, shift and change the debate.”

“A rather brutal assessment of your task.” Ermion commented a little sadly.

“It is a rather brutal job.” Ciri responded. Half with anger and half with regret. There was determination there too but I couldn't quite catch all of it.

Kerrass cleared his throat. “I rather feel that we have got off topic.”

“Yes. So.... What shall we talk about?”

“You were going to tell me whether or not you were going to help us find my sister.”

“Was I?” The impish smile was back in the Druid's face.

“You were,” Ciri said flatly.

“I'm not entirely sure that I was.” He straightened in his chair. “But I do have one last question of my own before I decide whether or not I'm going to help you or not.” Ciri stiffened but Ermion waved her back down.

“Come now, Swallow. You know that these things never come for free. I am a druid, where would I be if I did not insist on proper balance in all things?”

Ciri didn't answer that, but her glare was rather eloquent. But it was Kerrass that spoke.

“You would be a good friend.” He said quietly, “And you would have the gratitude of a grateful Empress.”

“And that would almost be enough,” Ermion agreed. “But the truth is that it is not my information to give, so the most that I have to decide is to whether or not I should send for the man that might be able to answer your questions. Why have you come to me and why not to your Sorceress friends?”

“Oh come on Uncle,” I noticed that Ciri emphasised the title. “You know the answer to that. You've read the books as it is.”

“I have, and I do.” He told her. “But indulge an old man, scholar, why us?”

“Because the magic is supposed to be both ancient and alien. We know, or suspect that the magic is by way of ritual where the characteristics of “Jack” were summoned and tied to a person. In this case an unwilling person who was driven mad.” I sighed. “But the source for that last is by no means certain. We need to know more. We have to know more. Why have I come to you? Because the Sorceress don't know the answer.”

Ermion chuckled. “The Sorceresses don't know everything. That has to sting. Oh, to see Yennefer's or Phillipa's face when they realised that.”

“We were hoping that you might know more.” I went on. “Druids and those people that have learned their magic from alternative places than the halls of Aretuza or Ban Ard. Maybe they know more.”

Ermion thought about this. “We might... But as I say, it is not me that can answer that question. I can point you in the right direction though, indeed I can send for the man that can give you more information right now.”

“Then why don't you....” I began but Kerrass put his hand on my shoulder.

“There is a price though isn't there.” Kerrass told the Druid. “There is always a price for Druids. The balance must be maintained.”

“Too true.” Ermion smiled at him. “I will admit to truly being surprised Master Witcher. Your understanding on such matters is far more than some of those fellows that I have dealt with. Or their Sorceresses.”

He turned back to me. “There must always be a price. There can never be something for nothing, especially when it comes to magic. You have asked why I dislike Witchers but you haven't asked why I dislike Mages of any kind. Especially Sorceresses. Mages demand things, they take their power without thought of giving back, leaving a gulf that needs to be filled from elsewhere. In the same way that I get angry at fishermen that overfish rivers and lakes... I get furious with women who take their power and commit acts against nature that will take years to correct.”

“Only women?” I asked.

“He's thinking of something specific.” Ciri told me. “That last comment wasn't for you. It was directed against me.” She turned back to the druid. “You are always unkind to her Uncle. She was trying to save me.”

Ermion sighed. “And the man I am, loves you as though you were my own daughter.” He responded before straightening. “But the High Druid that I also am, must wonder at the awful damage that she committed in the search. At the loss of life, both during and since that event and the effects that it will have on the island for centuries to come.”

“No-one died Uncle.”

“She told you that. Did she also tell you how badly that might have gone in using the magic that she did. But also, who says that I am talking about human life. What about the animal, plant or insect life that is essential to the eco system of the islands which had already been damaged by the prior explosion. Did she know what the use of the mask did to the surrounding areas? I don't and I had been studying it for years.

“As a High Druid I must wonder whether your life, no matter how dear to me, was worth the cost.”

Ciri took that in silence, her eyes blazing but only a little bit. This felt like an old and often rehearsed conversation as though it's one of those family arguments that gets brought out at special occasions, sometimes to everyone's amusement but sometimes because families need excuses to have a fight.

Eventually though, the two of them staring at each other became unbearable. “I take it that the she you refer to is the Lady Yennefer?” I asked.

Ermion subsided a little. “Yes. There is a woman who could never understand why the world would not simply move aside and do as it was told.” He turned back to Ciri who was looking a little... strained. I recognised the expression. I had seen it in myself after having another blazing row with my Father. “I love you a great deal, little Swallow. I loved you before you were born even and I was devastated, I was heartbroken when I thought that you had been taken from us during the war and my heart was lifted up on high when you turned up alive again. But Fuck me if I will ever see eye to eye with your mother.”

Hearing the old man swear was eye opening. Ciri's mood changed just as quickly. “She is a hard woman to like.” The Empress said. “But at the same time, an easy woman to love. It is always nice to know that there is someone who will tear apart the fabric of existence if she thinks you need her help.”

“Yes,” Ermion agreed. “I can see that it would.” He held his arms wide and whatever tension that there had been in the room vanished as Ciri embraced the old man. “It is good to see you Swallow,” he told her. “I did not enjoy looking at your Empress mask, especially when it started to slip.”

“Just as I don't like arguing with you when you have your druid hat on.” She told him with just the slightest tremble in her voice. “Sometimes, I just want to be held by my old uncle Mousesack.”

Kerrass and I were looking at the ground and exchanging glances. Always awkward when you are caught in these situations where family are reconciling. There were some more whispered words between the two of them but I feel as though those words need to be kept more private.

Eventually though, Ciri released the old man and he turned away so that he could wipe some suspicious dust from his eyes.

“So what will your price be here?” I asked him after taking care to make sure that he had got, whatever it was, out of his eyes. “If everything has to come with a price, what is the price here?”

Ermion smiled. “My price is simple Lord Frederick. Publish that. Publish that the Sorceresses do not know everything.”

Kerrass snorted.

“Uncle,” Ciri was also smiling while also admonishing the older man.

“Done,” I said carefully. “Although, I am going to put it in writing that you forced me to say so.”

Ermion laughed.

“After all,” I said. “You're not the one who has to marry a Sorceress when this is all over.”

“Fair enough.” Ermion was still chuckling. “Then I shall fetch the man you need. Please wait here.”

He rose and left.

“Is that how it always goes?” I asked Kerrass. “With Druids I mean?”

“Always.” He told me. “No-one ever wants to help you for free. You found that out with the Unicorn remember?”

“I did, and I didn't like it then either.”

We weren't waiting long and I wondered if, whoever it was that Ermion had gone to fetch was already waiting. We hadn't made a secret of the fact that we were coming to speak to the druids of Skellige after all.

The door opened again and Ermion led another, much smaller man into the room that was now getting rather cramped. I shouldn't really have been surprised really but it was the same man that had been with Ermion in Queen Cery's chambers way back when I had first been shown into those quarters to talk to the Empress.

He was a relatively small man, a little overweight with light blue eyes but dark hair. I remember that being a strange combination. He was wearing a large, homespun, oilskin coat that was lined with sheepskin despite the warmth inside the room and he wore a woollen cap that he played with. Periodically he would remember that he was holding it and place it on his head before, a few minutes later, he would take it off again and play with it.

Beyond that, he had a few other tools that I associated with druids. He had a sickle tied to his belt and wore the largest pair of boots that I had seen although he didn't seem particularly comfortable with them as when he wasn't playing with his hat, he was playing with his boots. He would frown at some thing on the boot before either bending down to play with it or shift the boot so that sat better on his feet. If I didn't know better then I would have thought that the boots didn't really fit properly. I knew that that wasn't the problem though because they were old. Heavily scuffed and much used and no boots get like that without much hard toil. He was also clean shaven despite the large sideburns that had grown until they were long and bushy. It seemed an odd style of facial hair for the islands as your average Skelligan likes big beards and long moustaches.

He seemed nervous and other than his accoutrements, he didn't seem like that much of a druid at all. But he walked in and looked at the three of us, bobbed nervously towards the Empress and nodded to me.

“Umm, So.... The Hierarch tells me that you have something to ask me?”

“This is Lennox.” Ermion told us. “And he's our expert on all things other worldly. He's been with us for quite a while now and despite his nervous exterior...” He frowned in a way that you see masters frown at exasperating apprentices, “his knowledge on matters to do with other worlds is vast. He can read, but don't hold that against him too much. He earned the title of druid with a lot of sweat and unpleasantness.”

“That's an unusual name,” I commented as I offered to shake the man's hand. More as something to say rather than anything else.

“It's the only one I have,” he told me before staring at my hand as though he couldn't entirely figure out what it was for.

“As I say,” Ermion said, almost as if he was prompting the other man. “Lennox is our foremost expert in other worlds. He has formed a practise of looking into things and researching what the other realms might look like. Both from observation and from deduction.”

The druid, Lennox, licked his lips as he looked up at Ermion in the attitude of a dog that is surprised that it's master is being nice to it for a change.

“So ummm.” He looked around, I guessed that it was for somewhere to sit so I climbed to my feet and offered him the chair that I was sat on. He looked appalled at the thought and shook his head before spotting a spare piece of floor and sat down, crossing his legs, tugging one foot up and over so that it rested on top of his knee so that he could absently pick at the dirt that was caked inside the tracks on the bottom of the boot. “I've never been consulted by a Witcher before.” He told us with a mixture of fear in his voice as well as a certain amount of excitement. “How does this work?”

“Generally speaking.” Kerrass smiled, I thought he was trying to put the man at his ease. “Especially when I'm dealing with druids it goes like this. I ask for a piece of information or for some form of aid. If the druid offers me the aid then generally there is also some kind of price. But just as often as that, the druid will refuse to help me on the grounds that “such knowledge is not meant to be known” and then I am forced to find another way to get the answers that I seek.”

“I see,” the man licked his lips again.

Now that I was watching carefully there were certain signs that the man had once been on hard times. As I say, he was a large man. Far from fat but he was certainly build like a barrel. He was not slim either but he had the slightly thinner arms and ruddy nose that told that he was a drinker. There were also scars on his face from some kind of disease. His eyes and cheeks had the look of being sunken slightly, his skin seemed to hang that little bit loose on his face as though there had once been a lot more flesh there.

“So, what is it that you wanna know? I've gotta say though. Just because Lord Ermion....”

“Lennox, how many times....”

“Sorry, sorry.” He flinched back from the elder druid, his eyes flickering closed as though he was expecting some kind of blow. It was a short thing. A quick reflex kind of thing that you might miss if you weren't watching closely. I glanced over at Ermion who was looking at his fellow druid with an expression of exasperation, care and gentle concern.

“But just because Lord Ermion says that I am an expert in “otherworldly things”,” He used his fingers to illustrate the quote. In certain academic circles that will get your fingers broken as the person that you are talking to will reach forward, grab the fingers that you are using to “quote” something and bend them backwards until the fingers break. If you are quoting someone then say that you are quoting someone, you don't need to illustrate it with your fingers.

In all honesty, I haven't seen anyone do that for ages for precisely that reason.

“But that doesn't actually mean that I know the piece of information that you are looking for.” He warned. Always interesting when someone starts off a conversation by trying to manage your expectations down a bit. “The field of “otherworldly things” is a big one and not many people have actually spent a great deal of time looking. It's like trying to find the haystack in a nation before you can start looking for the needle.”

“I understand.” Kerrass told him. The poor man jumped and I had to wonder why he was so nervous.

Normally, Druids are the kinds of people that don't give a crap what you think of them and as a result they just say what they think. They know that when they die that their body will feed the ground and as a result, there is very little that you can do to frighten a druid. So it seemed strange that the man would have been nervous.

“But nevertheless, the information is important and we need to ask the questions anyway. If you do not know the answer or cannot point us in the directions of where we need to go to look then we will move on without anger or recrimination.”

Lennox licked his lips again as his eyes darted between us all again before looking back at Ermion.

Who nodded.

“Ask your question.” He told us in a quiet and timid voice.

“It's about the disappearance of his sister.” Kerrass said, pointing at me.

Lennox turned to me, his face expectant.

I told my story. It was clear, early on, that Lennox didn't know my story or hadn't heard of me at all. He felt like the kind of person that gets lost in whatever he's doing so I didn't take too much offence. He listened carefully and asked no questions before we came to the end of things. Where I described what the Unicorn had told me. I still needed to refer to the notes that I had brought with me on that subject as my memory would occasionally try and convince me that I had never met a unicorn.

I told him about the rituals that the Unicorn told me about. About how “Jack” had been invoked and so that his skills and powers could be grafted onto another person. But beyond that, we knew nothing about that kind of magic.

He listened carefully and seemed almost startled when I stopped talking.

“Is that it?” He asked.

“You sound surprised.”

“No, no it's just...” He frowned again in concentration.

Kerrass and I exchanged glances. Ciri shifted in her seat. After a bit more time, Ermion cleared his throat. Lennox didn't respond.

“Can you help us?” I prompted.

“What?” he seemed genuinely startled. “I...uhh....” He looked over at Ermion again before licking his lips. “Errr, I think so.”

“Will you help us?” Ciri asked, leaning forward.

“I uhhh.” Another look over at Ermion who nodded encouragingly. “I get to ask for something in return don't I?”

“Yes, you do.” Ermion told him.

“And it can be anything I want.” Lennox asked him.

“It can, within the rules of the druids of course.”

Lennox nodded, licking his lips a couple of times.

He was sweating.

“And they, I mean, and you will do what I want you to do first before I give you the information.”

“That's normally how it works.” Kerrass seemed resigned.

“Why can't it be the other way round?” Ciri asked.

“You forget, Swallow.” Ermion's voice was stern. “Much though I like this Witcher, have every sympathy for Lord Frederick and my affection for you. I have dealt with Witchers, Sorceresses and nobles from the continent before. Words, oaths and promises are easily broken. The druids have nothing to lose by not giving you what you seek and not helping you. You came to us. Time for a show of good faith on their part I think.”

I looked back at Kerrass who shrugged.

“Name your price.” I said after a while. “And we'll see what we can do.

“Anything I want?” Lennox asked. Licking his lips again. “Anything I want.”

“It's your information,” Ermion told him.

Lennox nodded and took a deep breath before looking at Kerrass.

“I want you to get rid of the Skeleton Ship. Destroy it, dismiss it, whatever but it can never again come to these shores. I want the Skeleton Ship gone.”

I stared at him. He seemed so sure of himself. The first time he had seemed confident since he came into the room. I think even Ermion was surprised.

It was Kerrass who broke the silence.

“You want me to hunt the Skeleton ship?” He asked.

Lennox nodded.

“Nothing is ever easy is it.” Kerrass said with a chuckle.