After Kerrass' words, silence descended on the room. I think even Ermion himself was shocked, he was certainly staring at Lennox with his eyes wide and his mouth gaping. Not a lot but enough so that I could see his teeth.

Ciri was surprised herself. She had that frown that she gets when she's thinking furiously. A frown copied, almost entirely from the facial expressions of Madame Yennefer where her brows draw together and a small dimple forms between them. Her eyes were darting this way and that way in the manner of someone making plans and weighing consequences.

Me? I was surprised as well. Mostly though? I was disappointed. I had been looking forward to a bit of a holiday. In the same way that the Empress herself had I suppose. The hunt for whatever had happened with my sister had been an ongoing thing for a while without notable success. We had been hunting and chasing down leads since she disappeared. That, and the horror in the north with the cult of the first born, meant that I was tired. Without planning on it, or even realising that that was what I was thinking, I had thought that there was a small holiday coming. We would have come out to the druids, got the information and then gone back to Kaer Trolde so that I could make some new friends, learn about Skelligan society and generally spend some time recharging batteries. I was hoping that Ariadne could come out and join us so that we could spend some time together.

And now I was dealing with the disappointment that there were going to be more rings of fire for us to jump through before the we could actually find anything out.

Kerrass? Kerrass was becoming a Witcher again.

I should explain that. Kerrass had relaxed as well. Kerrass is a social chameleon in that he can fit into any circumstances. He is just as at home while attending a ball involving the most upper crust of the higher echelons of society, as he is sleeping beneath a hedge by the side of the road. If you paid me money though, I still couldn't tell you which of the two that he prefers.

Since his triumph on the hill at the climax of the Cult of the First Born. He had relaxed, almost imperceptibly. He was that little bit more genial, more emotional. He laughed a little bit louder, smiled a little bit wider and frowned a little bit deeper. I'm not sure you would notice it if you didn't know him well. Now he looked a little bit closer to the reserved human rather than the emotionless automaton that he sometimes pretends to be. It was as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders in some way. I have no idea what that weight was or what had lifted it. But it had been lifted and he seemed immeasurably better for it.

He still put his Witcher face on occasionally. Whenever there was a hunt going on or at the time with the Unicorn. But more and more often, he had been taking part in the world, getting drunk, enjoying food, flirting with women, that kind of thing. But now he was a Witcher again.

As I sit here writing it, I make it sound like it was something to be sad about but that isn't the case. He just seemed to draw himself up a little bit, sit a little stiffer, turned slightly so that he could face the entrance to the room, his eyes narrowed a little and the signs of constant thinking returned to his face. To my eyes, he actually looked a little better for it. As though he was more the Witcher of old. The energy and the drive had got back to him.

That's not to say that he had lacked for anything. As I say, it was as though and absence that I hadn't thought about before, or hadn't noticed, had gone away. As though a void had been filled.

He sat and thought for a moment.

“I need to confer with my companions.” He told Lord Ermion who nodded a response. “You,” Kerrass pointed at Lennox, “Wait there. I have questions that need answering.”

“What?” The confidence that the younger and more junior druid had gained in giving us our mission had vanished. “Why? I have told you what I want and now you go off and deal with the ship. That's how this works isn't it?”

“Not even close.” Kerrass told him. That was another thing that had changed. His voice was different, harsher, colder. The music had left it somehow. “You have just hired a Witcher. Our payment is that you will tell us what you know about the magic that Freddie has described to you. But you don't get to question my methods or dictate how I set about doing my job. Perhaps Lord Ermion might enlighten you a little more about why he doesn't like us very much.”

“You have sewn a crop my friend.” Ermion told him. “And now you must reap what you have sewn. I too have questions. Master Witcher? If you turn left out of the door and continue to the end of the corridor, the door at the end will lead you back into the open air where you can converse without listeners. My... colleague and I will still be here when you return.”

Kerrass nodded. “Come along Freddie... Ciri,”

Ciri stood up but I was nailed to my chair. I don't know why but I didn't want to move. Kerrass hauled me to my feet by virtue of grabbing my elbow and steering me out the door.

No sooner had the door closed behind us before we heard Ermion's voice through it.

He seemed like a terrible old man in his anger.

We followed the corridor along as we had been instructed and opening the door we came out into a clearing in the woods. There was a small herb patch nearby in carefully maintained squares of Earth. Another younger druid grinned at us as we emerged from beneath the hill. As far as we could tell, he was digging up the plants and carefully putting them in small earthen ware pots. Presumably so that they could be taken in doors and protected from the coming elemental storms.

Kerrass subsided a little. It really is like he puts on a mask, or some kind of suit of armour when he shifts into his “Witcher” frame of mind.

“Fuck me.” He muttered to no-one in particular.

I was pacing, just moving backwards and forwards in no particular direction. I know this because Ciri came over and put her hand on my shoulder. “You ok?”

I shook my head, trying to clear it more than anything else but Ciri didn't take that as well as she might have done. “Freddie?”

“I'm alright. I'm alright. I'm just..... I just want to find my sister. Why does this seem to be so hard?”

“I know.”

Getting hugged by an Empress is still something that I can't quite get used to. She took me over to where Kerrass was standing, stroking his chin in thought.”

“Can it be done?” The Empress said. “The Skeleton ship is a thing of legend in these parts and all along the coast so can it be done?”

“Mm?” Kerrass' head jerked over as his brain caught up with what his ears had heard. “Oh yes. It can be done. In all honesty, I'm surprised that it hasn't been done before.”

He smiled a little.

“Freddie and I lifted one of the biggest curses that the southern part of the continent has ever seen. A curse that people have been saying for years, cannot be lifted but we did it. Sometimes, all it takes is a new perspective or a fresh way of thinking.”

It was Kerrass' turn to clap me on the shoulder. “Freddie here taught me that.”

But then he sighed and the smile left his eyes. “The question here is not whether or not it can be done. But whether or not it should be done.”

I felt myself stirring. I was feeling disconnected. A feeling that is, unfortunately, more and more common to me. Something that I am getting used to. I have since been told that it's not entirely healthy for me to feel this way but then again, what am I going to do about it.

“I'm sorry Freddie.” Kerrass told me with a shrug. “But this feels political to me. It almost feels too big and too complex an issue for the response of “Point a Witcher at it and let them get on with it” to be acceptable. If that was the case then why hasn't it been done yet?”

“But can it be done?” The Empress wanted to know.

“Pretty sure it can.” Kerrass mused. “There are a lot of questions involved and there would need to be a plan but... as I say... this stinks of politics and I have too many questions. Why hasn't it been done before? Why now? Why is this man asking for it above all others? I can all too easily imagine a situation where, we destroy, dismiss or whatever the Skeleton Ship and then the rest of the islands of Skellige go up in arms over it. The Ship is an important part of Skellige culture after all. It's their ceremony of remembrance, part of their cultural rituals in the same way that the South is supposed to be up at dawn to greet the sun and to watch it set in order to show gratitude for it bothering to turn up.

“There's something else going on here and I don't like the uncertainty.” He finished, going back to his staring into space.

I took a deep breath and tried to force myself to let go of the anger, pain and disappointment of another setback in my search.

It was not easy.

“So...” It took me another breath. “So what do we do?”

“I think....” Kerrass mused. “I think that we work on getting the ship dealt with.” I saw that Ciri was nodding. “I think we put together our methods and come up with a plan as to what we want to do. Then we get Queen Cerys as well as whoever she wants to weigh in on the subject, into a room and put our plan to them. Then, I think we let them make their choice as to what they want us to do.”

He was looking into my eyes as he said this.

“Certain parts of Skelligan society get rich on the back of The Skeleton Ship and they are not alone. Those merchants that supply the ceremony as well as all the other folk that enjoy it are similar. If we just get rid of the thing without proper consultation, I think that we would not survive the experience.”

“Because of politics?” I could see Ciri agreeing with Kerrass.

“Because of Politics. It would certainly explain why no Witcher has ever tried to deal with the matter before. There have been several Witchers who have spent significant amounts of time on the islands as well so I refuse to believe that this question hasn't come up in the past.”

There was something in my chest that was shrivelling up and dying and it turned out that I was not so successful in swallowing my emotions as all that. “So we're going to do nothing?”

“Not nothing Freddie? Nor is it hopeless. There's even a significant possibility that if we put the fact that we're deliberately not upsetting years of tradition to the Queen and Ermion, that they will agree with us and compel the information to be released to us. You know, in gratitude for us not being utter idiots and destroying the natural order of things. In the mean time we will investigate and see what we can come up with.”

“I sense a “but” coming.” I told him.

“But.” He smiled sadly. “Not gonna lie Freddie, it it wasn't for Francesca. I would put this question behind me as being political and just ride off.”

“But you're tempted to tell him to go fuck himself right?” I had to ask it.

“More than a little Freddie more than a little.”

I kicked the ground. I knew that this made me look like a child throwing a tantrum and I found that I didn't really care that much.

“So where do we start?” Ciri asked.

“With what?”

“With hunting this thing?”

“We?” Kerrass asked her with a slight smile. “As I say, this runs the risk of being extremely political and can the Empress of Nilfgaard really be involved in dealing with something like that?”

“I said that I would be involved until this matter is resolved. So I am involved, whether you want me to be or not. And even if I'm not actually involved with the “kill” so to speak, which probably will be too dangerous for me to be involved...” She grinned at the thought. “I mean seriously, Voorhis might have kittens at the thought of me being involved on an actual hunt...”

Kerrass chuckled at the thought.

“Well, if you can continue working with us then that's a boon. You will be able to help smooth things over with the political end of things. Far better than anyone else for that matter.”

“So how do we go about this then?” I asked. “How do we set about hunting something that has been haunting the Skelligan isles for decades, if not centuries?”

“I think that that, in and of itself, is a clue. Not least to just how political this entire situation might be.”

“What do you mean?” Ciri asked.

“This is not a complicated case.” Kerrass told her. “Nothing even remotely close to the complexity of the curse surrounding Sleeping Beauty as was.”

“Kerrass, you're being mysterious again.” I accused, “cut it out.”

“Freddie, the only reason that you yourself haven't figured it out yet is due to how hung up you are on the matter of your sister, and the problems regarding the Empress before it.

“Look,” he went on. “You're thinking about the Skeleton Ship in terms of it being a ship. A ship, plus a crew from elsewhere right?”

“I mean, how else are you supposed to look at it?” Ciri asked.

“So what's cursed?” He asked her. “The ship, or the crew?”

“I don't... I,” She tailed off in confusion.

“And there it is,” he told her. “That's the nub of this matter. If it was the ship that was cursed, why doesn't it manifest as some kind of normal ghost ship, the islands and the sea in general are replete with stories of different ghost ships. Why is it even here? If it's the crew that are cursed, then which individual is cursed and again, why are they here? Why did they bring the ship with them?”

“Kerrass, I'm not following.” I told him.

“The ship isn't a ghost or a spirit,” he told me, “it's a ship. We know that, people can climb aboard and throw things at it. It shatters the ice that it moves through, we know that. So it isn't a ghost ship, it is a cursed ship. Are you with me so far?”

“Yes.”

“But the crew, are ghostly.” Ciri said. “They do act like spirits.”

“Yes they do. So, I would guess that they were the crew of the ship that were aboard when they ship got cursed. They have since died out because they had the misfortune of being aboard the ship when it was cursed. So what we need to do is to lift the curse so that it can go on it's way.”

“But how do we do that?”

“That's the easy part. It's the what and where that are tricky.”

“Kerrass,” I warned.

“What does it remind you of?”

“What does what?..” Ciri began.

“The Skeleton ship. What does it remind you of?”

Ciri and I looked at each other and I was, at least a little, pleased to see my own confusion echoed in her eyes.

“It's a ship Kerrass.” I said.

“Yes, but what else. How does it behave?”

I stared at him.

“It's a ship Kerrass.” I repeated.

“Yes but look at it's behaviour. It arrives. It sails around the islands, seemingly at random before homing in on one area. Kaer Trolde. Why? Also, notice the cold. The cold starts off as this, all encompassing thing. An oppressive element that literally freezes the ocean and so that any unprotected creature that goes near it freezes so quickly that it shatters.

“Yet later, when the ship sails through Kaer Trolde, the cold is manageable. Still freezing but that's the cold that's left over from... the beginning of the ship's passage. But you can watch it, you can stand next to it. It is no longer as terrifying.”

He was looking from one of us to the other.

“Also consider the effect it has on the populace. When the ship first arrives, it's a primal terror. A thing of dread and fear. Yes, that fear is a practical fear that causes people to take certain steps to protect themselves from the cold but at the same time, it's a ship. There are no stories of it attacking anyone, it defends itself but it has never attacked anyone, so why the fear. Why the visceral reaction of the people to it's presence?

“And what's it doing? Why does it sail around the islands at random before coming back to the docks at Kaer Trolde. Why does it do that?”

“For resupply.” Ciri answered. I can't speak for her, but I felt like a stupid student before an increasingly frustrated teacher.

“Precisely. When does a ship resupply?”

“Before it sails off somewhere.”

“Yes. So what is it doing in Skellige? Is it even of this world?”

“It's not like any ship that I've ever seen.” Ciri said. “And I would watch the ships coming in to dock in Cintra harbour.

“The appearance isn't that important.” Kerrass told us. “It could have taken on a different appearance , or even transformed when the curse was put on it. That is one of the things that needs identifying is to whether or not that is what the ship is. We do need to spend some time seeing if we can identify the ship.”

“That sounds tedious,” Ciri commented.

That moment happened. I've talked about this moment before. The moment where the clouds opened and a beam of light shines through. You see the candle in the darkness. The flame of the guiding shrine on the hill and you know that you are nearly there.

The answer hovered in front of my eyes, I just needed to reach out and grab it.”

“Oh,” I said, suddenly feeling really stupid. “It's looking for something.”

Kerrass' eyes glittered.

“Shall I tell you what it reminds me of?” He asked us both but carried on without waiting for an answer. “It reminds me of an angry old man coming in to a house to look for something. He goes stomping around the house, shouting and yelling and scaring everyone including his wife, his children, his grand children. He accuses other people that are there of hiding the thing that he is looking for, maybe his favourite pipe or his hat or something. Then he realises that he has searched everywhere and that he still can't find it, maybe it was lost and his son has bought him a new pipe. Or the original pipe was broken and as a result, the old pipe cannot possibly be found as the separate broken pieces were chucked in the midden months, if not years ago.

“So then he subsides. Maybe he sits down to have a nap or to have something to eat. Maybe he even has a smoke from his new pipe, the one that he secretly, just doesn't like. But then he forgets that the old pipe is lost and gets up. He goes back to stamping around the place, shouting and yelling about finding his old pipe, the one with the proper, long stem.”

Kerrass looked from one of us to the other.

“I think that the ship comes from, either, a faraway place or another world. Or that it is now so warped by the magic that it uses to travel that it is unrecognisable. I think it came to Skellige for some reason, some magical reason and in doing so, something was lost. But that thing that was lost was so vital to it that it's loss could not be borne.

“Maybe it was thing that the ship was carrying. Maybe it was the cargo or the passengers or the prisoners that it was transporting from one place to another. Maybe it was a treaty or a message or something, food for a dying nation or village. But that thing was lost as it sailed through Skellige and the, to it, alien waters. And because of that loss, the people on the shore, the people expecting the passengers, cargo, message, whatever it was... They cursed the ship until it could recover what it was that was lost. So now...?”

He shook his head.

“So now it searches. As I say, I think there are two possibilities after that. I think it either returns to where it came from in order to recharge it's....whatever, magic probably before it can come back here and mount another search. It's that, or there are many such places where it could have lost whatever it is that it's looking for and it rotates through them all.”

“So it goes... “home” for want of a better word,” Ciri was thinking aloud. “In order to recharge and then, when it can mount another expedition to come back here, it does so.”

“Yes. That's my theory.”

“I can see it.” I told him.

“So can I,” Ciri agreed.

“Which is why I think that this is political.” Kerrass told us both. “I had the outline of that theory after listening to the story the first time. After the second and third time, I was just formulating a plan out of professional.... whatever, just entertaining myself in thinking how I would set about lifting the curse. But if I can come up with that while not really trying, then any Witcher or magic user worth their salt who would be hired to lift the curse would see the same thing that I saw.”

“So you think,” I began... “You think that we need to find the thing that was lost and give it back in order to lift the curse?”

“I do. That's the tricky part. We have to figure out what the “thing” is first.”

“So how do we set about doing that?” Ciri asked with a smile as she echoed her earlier words.

“Well...” Kerrass began. “Much though I don't like it. We need to work on two fronts. The political problem but also the historical problem. The political problem is the questions, why now? Why not before? And if we do do this, will we survive the experience? After that we need to think about the historical aspect of things which means that we need to track the origins of the Skeleton Ship back to it's source. We need to go as far back as we can.”

“Any idea where to look?” I wondered.

“The druids for a start.” Kerrass smiled at me. “There is also that watchtower that keeps being mentioned, off the western points of the islands. I want to go and see that and talk to whoever the guardians of that are. I wouldn't mind betting that the Temple of Freyja might be able to point us in some good directions. But it's the nature of oral traditions that any old fish wife might have the story that we're looking for.”

“So one way or another, we're heading back to Kaer Trolde.” Ciri said. “Although I don't know who we are going to get to sail us around the islands and talk to all these people. Most Captains have grounded their ships now.”

I considered that. “I might know someone who'll be able to help us.”

Ciri's eyebrows rose as the question occurred to her to wonder who I might be thinking of But Kerrass cut that off.

“Good.” He said. “So we'll go back in to talk to this Lennox person. I have several probing questions to ask him, not least of which is why he's trying to get us involved in politics. After that, we'll head back to Kaer Trolde. Then, Ciri if I could ask you to go and talk to whoever you talk to, to find out how people might behave towards us when we're trying to stop this while Freddie speaks to his friend about getting us to the other islands.”

“Not that I'm that afraid of the voyage.” I told him. “But the last one was far from pleasant. Can't we just get Yennefer to gate us over or something. Even Lady Eilhart is in Skellige isn't she?”

“She is, but neither one of them are happy at the thought of gating anyone anywhere.” Ciri responded. “Apparently, the gating process is “squirelly” at the moment.”

“Interesting term.” I told her.

“Blame them not me.”

“Right,” Kerrass told the pair of us. “In we go.”

We went back inside to find that Ermion and Lennox hadn't really moved.

“So,” Kerrass began, this time taking the seat that I had sat in, bringing him closer to Lennox. “Has Lord Ermion told you about what it's like to deal with Witchers?”

I noticed the emphasis on the title. Ermion did as well as he shifted in his seat. Ciri had returned to her former chair and leant back, watching the interaction between Kerrass and Lennox with interest. Lennox didn't answer Kerrass' question. Kerrass frowned.

“Has Lord Ermion told you about what we're like and what it is to hire a Witcher?”

Lennox nodded.

“He told you that, in hiring a Witcher...”

“I haven't hired anyone.” Lennox insisted

Kerrass slammed his hand down onto Ermion's desk. Lennox jumped, so did Ciri and I, even though I was kind of expecting it. I've worked with Kerrass on so many hunts now that I knew what stage of things we were in. This was the stage of a hunt where Kerrass was exerting his will on the “client”. So often, what happens is that the person that is paying the money thinks that they can run roughshod over Kerrass. They think that because they are providing the money then Kerrass will do what they will say, that they get to dictate how Kerrass sets about his work, along with how long it will take, what the damages might be and what will be needed.

Kerrass' response to that is that he is a craftsman. In the same way that you wouldn't tell a Jeweller how to sand and polish a jewel, or tell an architect how to build a house. You tell them the result that you want and then let them get on with it. Anyone who has tried to interfere in the building of something or the production of some piece of artwork will tell you exactly what happens when things go wrong. So he insists on dealing with matters in his own way.

But sometimes he has to exert his authority over someone. He has to show them that, although the client is the one providing the money, that the Witcher is in charge of the hunt.

That was what was happening now. Every word that Kerrass was saying, every movement that he was taking was working towards that specific goal. The goal of reminding the client, in this case Lennox, that Kerrass was in command. So the sudden violent gesture was in order to remind Lennox that being a Witcher means that he was a man of violence. It also serves to focus the client on what is important. Namely Kerrass and the potential violence that that promises.

So yes, I jumped at the sudden motion. Even though I was kind of expecting it, I still jumped.

Ermion didn't move. I'm pretty sure that he knew exactly what Kerrass was doing, why and that he was more than a little bit cross with his subordinate for bringing this down upon them.

“Yes you have.” Kerrass snapped. “You have hired me. You have given me a hunt and you have offered me payment in the form of knowledge that my friends might use to find someone close to them. It is a price that I accept which means that we have a contract between us, you and I. You have hired me and I will do what is in my power to get rid of the Skeleton Ship. And if you back out of your part of the deal then it will not matter where you hide, but I will hunt you down and extract my price from your hide if need be.”

Lennox was sweating and turned to Ermion in appeal. “He's threatening me.”

“Yes he is.” Ermion told him, his voice a carefully controlled mixture of sadness, disappointment and anger although I couldn't tell who he was disappointed with, or angry at. “All actions come with a price and you know that. They asked you for help and in return you wanted a Witcher. That was your price and now they are paying it. You have your Witcher and you must suffer the consequences of it.”

“But....” Lennox protested

“And just so we're clear.” There was no doubting who Ermion was angry with now. “If you try to back out of your deal then I will hand you over to him myself. All things must have a balance, all things must have a price. Nothing is free and you will pay the required cost.”

Kerrass leant back in his chair and stared down Lennox. “Now,” he said after a while. “I have questions.”

Lennox licked his lips. “Why? I told you what I wanted, go off and do it.”

Kerrass smiled nastily. Even as Ermion sighed in further disappointment.

“That's not how this works.” Kerrass growled, pinching off every word as though he was tasting what he was saying.

“I don't have to stay here and...” Lennox started to get up and leave.

Sometimes, just sometimes, Kerrass still has the power to surprise me with his physical prowess. He was up and across the room faster than lightening. Grabbing the druid around the throat and spinning him so that Kerrass was behind him, forearm round Lennox's neck. I was still watching. Ermion still didn't move. Still with the expression of sadness and anger on his face. Ciri had moved but was settling back down into her seat.

“First I want you to look at my friend Freddie.” Kerrass hissed into Lennox's ears. “You take a good long look at his face and how stricken he is. You look at him and you remember that he is my friend. He is closer to me in some ways than my brothers are. He has saved my lives more times than he is aware of and he helped return the love of my life to the land of the living. There aren't many things that I wouldn't do for that man and cutting the information out of your hide is not on the list of things that I wouldn't do. That man came here to ask for your help in returning his sister to him. You threw that back in his face and demanded an impossible mission from him. Now...”

Kerrass twisted the unfortunate man round until he could face Ciri.

“See that woman? That woman is called Ciri.”

“I know who she is...”Lennox protested, struggling against the hold but Kerrass was implacable.

“I don't think you do. I don't think you realise the shit storm you have just started. I think you were just in this because you wanted to make a point. I think you wanted to throw it in our faces and keep the information to yourself. Well now you find out what happens when you fuck with people.

“That woman is called Ciri. She was chased across the continent by the Wild Hunt, The Wraiths of Morhogg, the Aen Aelle and she prevailed. She did so with friends to be sure but she prevailed. She is called the Lady of Time and Space. She is also a friend to the Witchers. Which means me. She has travelled with Witchers, trained with Witchers and we love her and are devoted to her beyond the understanding of many people. When she calls, we answer. Why is that important? Because Freddie's sister was beloved by her as well. So she is another person that you have disappointed. That woman has another name sometimes as well. A terrifying name, a name of blood.

“Her name is Falka.”

Ciri shuddered. It was an odd reaction. Somewhere between longing and revulsion and it was echoed in Lennox's reaction. The man knew precisely who Falka was.

Historically, Falka was a Warrior Queen whose reign of blood soaked terror swept across the nations of the North. Although, historically, there is good evidence that she was the defeated side and this is an example of “History is written by the winners,” so modern analysts suggest that her actions might not have been as bad as others have suggested. But they were pretty bleak.

How this applies to Ciri though is that, according to legend, there was a period in her life where she lived as a bandit in the southern parts of Nilfgaard. She was in hiding and so she chose a name for herself in order to work incognito. But during that time she was a terror, tales of her rage, cruelty and skill with a blade swept across the countryside. The name of her alias was Falka and from everything I've heard, she lives up to the name.

“Now finally we come to Lord Ermion.” Kerrass continued relentlessly, twisting the man around. The man who was all but blubbering in terror. “You might be wondering why Lord Ermion has not come to your rescue yet. I might be wondering myself but I think I can guess. In every way that you do not know how Witchers work, he does. He knew what was going to happen if you hired me and if you held the knowledge over my head. He knows what I am capable of and exactly what I will do to you if you hold out on me. He knows about the.... the mess that I could make. For him, if he protects you, apart from anything else.”

Kerrass threw the unfortunate man down into a heap on the ground.

“Now,” He was back to growling. “I am going to ask you a series of questions. These questions will be about the hunt. Failure to answer these questions will result in my deciding that you are in breach of contract. If, for one moment, I think that you are lying to me, I will ensure that you regret it. Do you understand?”

Lennox nodded.

“My methods are my own, and not for you to interfere with. Do you understand that as well?”

Lennox nodded again.

“Very well. Then are you ready for my first question?”

Lennox tried to sit up straight.

“How long has the ship been coming to these islands?”

“A long time.” Lennox stammered out.

“Be. Specific.” Kerrass snarled.

“Why?”

“Because small details can make all the difference in lifting a curse. And that's what we're doing here. I am not stupid, this is a curse that needs lifting and I need to know the details.”

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Lennox held his hands wide. “Centuries.”

Ermion sighed. “If I may, Master Witcher.”

Kerrass nodded, suddenly all grace and gallantry. “Please.”

“I understand your feelings on the matter and I agree that if Lennox had come to me and told me what he intended to do with your questions then I might have warned him about biting off more than he could chew. But maybe I can help him answer these questions?”

Kerrass nodded. His manner changed from the terrifying, hostile... well... monster that faced Lennox to the calm and polite investigator facing Ermion. He stood up and faced Ermion directly as Ermion continued to talk. Sometimes, when a man stands over a seated position, it can illustrate an attitude of trying to exert some kind of control over the person seated. The change in height can have a massive effect but that was not really what was happening here. Instead, it looked like a subordinate standing before a seated superior. A student before a seated master.

“The Skeleton Ship has been coming to Skellige since the clans were founded.” Ermion spoke calmly and collectedly, as if the sudden violence in his office hadn't even happened at all. “As you will, no doubt, know, the ship was boarded by the founder of the An Craite clan as well as many of his brothers and those stories and myths are the earliest records that we have. It has been coming here for centuries, indeed, since men first came to the islands.”

“Is there any reason to suspect that the Skeleton Ship wasn't added to those legends and tales at a later date in order to make them more dramatic?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if the great heroes needed their legend beefing up a bit then the Bard or Skald can simply say that the person boarded the Skeleton Ship and suddenly they are more heroic.”

Ermion sighed. “No, there is no reason to suspect that that hasn't happened in the past.”

“So the truth is, the Ship could have started coming here anywhere from twenty years ago up to a thousand years ago?”

“More like a hundred years ago as that would be more believable.”

“Fine. Has the ship always displayed the same kinds of behaviour?”

“What do you mean?” Ermion asked.

“Has it always been accompanied by the cold for instance?”

“Yes, although the cold is getting worse. There was once a theory that the Skeleton Ship was the Herald of the Eternal Frost and that one day, the ship's coming would spread the cold across the entire world.”

“Cheery thought,” Ciri muttered although I don't think she meant for anyone else to hear it.

“Ok,” Kerrass stood and stared off into space for a moment and then he clasped his hands behind his back as his chin sunk against his chest, eyes moving in thought. The manner was so close to being that of an Imperial official, even Lord Voorhis himself, that I thought even Ciri was startled.

“I don't suppose that there'll be any records of what actually happened when people first interacted with the ship.”

“No.”

“Or a rate at which the ice and cold is expanding?”

Ermion smiled a little sadly and shrugged.

“What would that tell us?” Ciri asked.

“If there's a steady rate of expansion then we could track it back to it's original contact here.” I suggested.

Kerrass nodded again, his eyes going vacant as he considered things. Weighed up possibilities and paths forward, portraying a calm, collected, ordered mind.

I'm not saying that Kerrass isn't calm, collected or ordered in thought and deed but sometimes he has the devil in him. But then he showed us, or maybe showed me who knows him so well, why he was doing it.

He spun back to Lennox, the violence and rage was back in him now, he picked up one of the chairs, reversed it and slammed it down, forcing Lennox against the wall, cornering him really so that he couldn't move. Lennox's entire gaze was forced to be locked onto Kerrass.

It was about establishing the contrast. The ordered and calm man who had the wit and wisdom to see things through, changing to the unpredictable and violent man of action. Some men weight strength. Warriors and soldiers do it all the time. Some other men weigh intelligence in a potential opponent such as scholars, merchants and courtiers. Kerrass was forcing Lennox to rethink his beliefs. Lennox, and Ermion as well I think.

“Why?” Kerrass snarled the question. “Why must the Skeleton Ship be destroyed? It is a part of Skelligan culture, an important part. Why must it be destroyed?”

I didn't watch Lennox while he answered these questions. Instead, I watched Ermion. I had that instinct again, the one that suggests that I was watching a piece of theatre although I couldn't tell what part I was playing in that play. What I wanted to know was the part that Lord Ermion was playing. Was he a participant? an actor? the writer? or was all of this theatre for him? I knew the answer to none of these questions so I watched him and waited for his reactions to what was happening as Lennox started to stammer something out.

“The Skeleton Ship is... is getting worse.” Lennox stammered. “Ev...Every time it gets closer and closer to freezing the entirety of the islands. Fish and livestock and people are freezing to death and...”

His voice was getting more confident as he went, Ermion grimaced as he spoke, he didn't seem surprised by what was said but it did seem a little bit as though he didn't entirely agree with it. But my sense that I was watching a play increased, the more that Lennox spoke.

Kerrass must have felt the same thing as he slammed his fist into the wall next to Lennox's head. Ermion did wince at that before eyeing the ceiling as a small amount of dust came from the roof over our heads. But then he subsided.

“Don't give me those rehearsed lines.” He bellowed into the unfortunate man's face, I can well imagine the spittle flying as well. “Don't give me those practised and polished debate speeches. Why do you want it destroyed? Why do you insist on it to the point of hiring a Witcher without consulting your superior?”

I didn't see it, but Ciri later told me that Kerrass prodded his victim in the chest to punctuate the questions.

Ermion squirmed a little when Kerrass commented about the lack of consultation with Lennox's superiors.

Silence fell for a moment.

Lennox tried for outraged anger. I'm not sure that it was his best choice.

“How can you ask me that?” He tried. He probably tried to make it sound defiant but instead, it came out as more of a kind of whimper. “How can you, a Witcher, ask me that. Lives are being lost. You might not care about the animals in the fields and the woods, or the fish in the rivers but surely you have to agree that the loss of human life must be stopped? What about the farmers that lose their livelihood? What about the fishermen driven to poverty because the shoals have migrated to warmer water? Or the children that are simply not able to protect themselves against the awful cold. What about them? The cold is getting worse, that's one of those things that we all agree on. What happens if it gets so bad that we can't survive?”

I think he had more before Kerrass cut him off. Ermion was staring at his desk now.

“All of that might be the case, and I might have a bit of sympathy towards some of those sentiments.” He was not quite whispering the words. The low kind of drawling whisper that sounds like the opening of a grave. “if I didn't know that Queen Cerys has instituted massive reforms in making sure that the impact of the Skeleton Ship's coming is lessened. The farmers have put food aside, the fishermen have stowed their vessels. Rationing has been introduced. Sorceresses are working to provide centres of warmth all over the islands. So why do you care so much? Why do you care about this to this extent?”

Ciri tells me that Lennox turned and appealed to Ermion for help, or for some kind of support but Ermion was still staring at his desk.

“Why do you care so much?” Kerrass howled into the man's face.

“Because it killed my father.” Lennox howled. “You don't know what it's like. You have no idea what it is to be that afraid. None of you do. To see something so ancient and terrifying. All of you. Lord Ermion has his magic, The rest of you have weapons, magic, friends and power to keep you safe but none of you know what it's like to be poor and vulnerable and to be left alone.”

“Tell me,” Kerrass demanded. His voice was terrible, aloof and cold. Austere and regal.

“Why?” Lennox wailed. “What's the point? Hunt it, destroy it, dismiss it, lift the curse, why do you need to drag me over the coals? Why are you doing this to me? Why are you being so cruel?”

“Because you took the hope from my friend. Because you waited until a time that you thought you had power over me and then you threw this into our faces as though it was some kind of accomplishment. There is no reason, none, that necessitates the destruction of the Skeleton Ship now rather than at some other time. All of the reasons that you gave, they are true, that's not in any doubt. I don't doubt all of the damage that's done to the animals, the crops and what have you, but humanity is adapting. That's what it does. Queen Cerys has literally made it so that the coming of the Skeleton Ship is a party, not a time for dread. Leaving aside the magical effects, you could be laughing. You could be... So why? Why now?”

“You have no idea what it's like? No idea.” Lennox whimpered. There's always a moment of guilt when you break someone that you've been interrogating. Always a moment where you look at the person that you've spoken to and no matter the reasons that you have for pursuing the information or how the person might be hiding things from you and their motives for doing so. There is always a moment when the tears come and the anger and the recriminations happen.

Then the guilt comes. It's a part of the path of the Witcher but never forget that the truth is essential in this kind of thing. Truth must come or the Witcher is unprepared, and an unprepared Witcher is a dead Witcher.

“Why do you hate it so much? Why now?” Kerrass asked him. He wasn't gentle though. There was still a cold rage in him somewhere that he had banked up against the things that had happened. He was still angry. But he was drawing the story out of Lennox now, slowly, surely and relentlessly.

“I uh...” Lennox scratched his head. “I'm a lot older than I look.”

Ermion didn't react to that and I guessed that this, at least, was part of the story that he already knew.

“I've lived for longer than I had any right to, longer than I should have and longer than I wanted to. I've lived for so long that I no longer remember where I'm from or who I am really. I remember my name though. That I remember.”

He snorted a little and I could no longer keep my eyes from watching the man who was speaking.

“I'm Skelligan though. I remember that much. I come from a fishing village that was on the Northern end of one of the islands. I have no idea which one now although I've looked for that village for decades, maybe even centuries.

“People say that immortality is a blessing but they don't know the horror of that, they don't know the effect that it can produce. Just because, as far as I can tell, I'm immortal does not mean that I cannot feel pain or fear. I can still feel all of those things. I can still drown and lose consciousness. I can still be beaten to the point of death or stabbed or shot with arrows. I have starved to death, frozen to death, felt the flesh melt from my bones in the fires of burning buildings and felt the awful touch of plague as it ravages my body until even the plague itself burns itself out and has nowhere else to go.

“Some people think that that should make me brave, knowing that I will survive any injury but it doesn't. It just makes me more afraid. Knowing what can happen, what will happen. That is terrifying.”

Kerrass settled back down into a chair as he listened to this tale being told. Ermion didn't twitch and, as I say, I suspect that none of this story was new to him.

“As I say, I was born in a small village on the northern tip of one of the islands of Skellige. I don't know how I know that it was on a Northern Edge but it was. There was a small lighthouse on the rock, Nothing more than a small tower with a bonfire on the top that would let the longships know that there were underwater reefs there.

“We were a fishing community. I'm pretty sure that my mother had died and so my father took my sister and I out on the boat to help him bring in the nets. Our fish was a significant part of the food for the village so we were out at sea an awful lot. But I was bad at it.

“That's the other thing about being immortal. I know what my weaknesses are. I'm a coward.” He started ticking things off his fingers, “And I have no physical talents at all. I can't handle an axe, shoot a bow, mend a net, build a ship, build anything really. Put a hammer in my hand and I smash my own fingers. It's not a pretty sight.” He was trying to make a joke and wilted a little bit further when it became clear that Kerrass wasn't going to laugh.

“But I could sail.” He went on. “Not anymore though. I'm afraid of drowning.”

He sighed.

“But at the time, I could hold a boat steady in the water. I could trim a sail and get a boat going and I could handle a set of oars.

“Looking back, and knowing what I know now, I suspect that our little inlet was getting fished out as our family was having to go further and further out in order to get at the fish. This was a long time ago, I don't know how long as I can't remember but there wasn't any kind of warning like there is now, about the arrival of the ship I mean so it came completely by surprise. The first we knew about it was when my younger sister's breath started to fog in the air. I remember that it was strange to my eyes so I always thought that this must have been somewhere in the hotter months. Somewhere between Late Spring and Early Autumn.

“My sister had the deft and clever fingers that could mend nets easily. I remember her laughter a lot and that she was beloved of the village. But when are little sisters not hated and loved by their elder brothers? The village didn't have too much of an understanding for a boy whose mind was better than his hands so I wasn't as popular.

“The things that were important at the time.”

I lowered my eyes, I found that I couldn't look at him anymore.

“It must have been a long time ago though, because the first thing that we saw was my sister's breath misting. We were so intent on our tasks that we didn't even notice it when the freezing fog came. Not like a fog or a sea mist. This was small, ice crystals forming in the air. As the water vapour that comes off the sea starts to freeze. So cold that the air froze as it entered my lungs and I coughed.”

He paused.

You see this a lot when you're forcing people to remember as well. A moment when they're lost in the memories. There is a trick to it though, that trick being that you have to be able to tell when the person is just putting you off versus when they're actually remembering. Sometimes they are making things up, but sometimes they are genuinely remembering.

There's a trick to it.

Kerrass shifted in his seat, just about to remind the druid to keep talking and it was like the startlement caused the words to start flowing again.

“I, ummm, I heard something. I pointed it out to my father but he was tempted to ignore it. I was far from the favourite child but he was determined that, as the male, I would take over his fishing boat when he was gone. But then my sister came to my rescue and told father that she had heard something too. He asked her what it sounded like and she told him that it sounded like a man calling for help.

“We stilled in the boat. The three of us hardly moving. There is a deadening effect on the water, where sound doesn't seem to travel, where what sound there is is muffled. It can feel as though you're the only person around for miles and you can't tell where you are. No landmarks distinguish themselves. No reference to keep yourself grounded and you might as well have been in another world.

“And people wonder why I'm afraid of being on the water.

“We all stayed still, straining our ears to hear and then we all heard it. So much so that even father heard it through the mist. An odd echo almost, an empty, almost hollow sound. But we heard it.

““Help me,” Someone cried. “For the love of God, help me.” And then we heard the sound of splashing.

“Father wasted no time. There is a code on the water, regardless of whether you are pirates, raiders or anything else. If there is someone in the water then you rescue them. It doesn't matter if they are a hated enemy, you pull them from the water. You might only be pulling them from the water in order to face an execution but you pull them out nevertheless. The three of us reacted automatically as we turned the boat, my sister at the front, keeping lookout for whatever was going on. I stayed at the back, mostly staying out of the way although I did find some work to do. Mostly along the lines of clearing the fish and the netting out of the way as best as I could. Father bent to the oars.

“My sister called out to the person in the water. Calling out to him so that he could know to hold on, that we were coming for him and that if he could just survive a bit longer in the freezing water, then we would be there for him. That we would save him.

“A little further, just a few more oar strokes and we could start to see ripples in the water from where the man was struggling to stay afloat. My father was a strong man. I can admit that now although we hated each other at the time. I hated him for his lack of understanding and he hated me for my lack of interest in anything that he was interested in. But I will say that he reacted well then.

“Our small fishing boat leapt through the water, the wake behind us was considerable. It was the first time that the two of us worked in any kind of tandem as I cleared the space around him, so that we could pull a drowning man aboard. Not something that we had done before but I could reason that, in pulling a man aboard, the boat would tip and threaten to capsize. So I had the weights, the fish and the nets over to one side of the boat. Father noticed what I was doing and nodded his approval. The first, and the last time he would do so.

“The drowning man was not hard to find. The splashing and the waves gave him away and as we got to him Father was able to move the boat so that we came along side him. I got hold of my sister and pulled her to the far side of the boat as Father reached over the side to haul the drowning man out of the ocean.

“The boat did indeed threaten to capsize and tip us all into the water. But whether through luck or my preparation we managed to keep the boat level as the man came aboard.

“I remember that he was thin. Painfully, skeletally thin, eyes sunken in his face, teeth rattling in his mouth. Even if it wasn't for the brutal cold of the water that froze our hands as we worked to get him into the boat, he would be pale and clammy. He had a patchy beard and wore a red, woollen cap, now soaked through as well as a striped vest and pair of trousers. I remember that he was barefoot as well which struck me as being odd. I know now that boots can weigh you down in the water but even so...

“His hands were callused and strong, despite his thinness and he held onto us with a death grip as though he was afraid that we would let him go and he would sink back beneath the water. But we got him aboard and he curled up in the bottom of the boat and I put my cloak over him. It was bitterly cold but I thought that the gesture was important.

“Father took to the oars again and we sped towards the shore, while my sister was trying to tell the man that he was safe now despite the audible chattering of his teeth and the shivering that was so violent that we were honestly worried about him.

“But my father was rowing now, it wouldn't be long before we could get back to the village, next to a warm fire and into the care of the herb-woman.”

Suddenly the story stopped and Lennox grinned, he still had the vacant expression to say that he was still thinking of the past but it was like he came back to himself.

“Of course, now I know that we needed to get him out of his wet clothes and start rubbing the life back into him. That the depths of the boat that were technically below the water line was not the best place to keep him but still.

“My father had the oars now and was rowing for everything he was worth. I had no doubt that we weren't far from the shore, my father had a sense about this kind of thing. He never got lost on the water. Never. It just never happened, nowadays people call that kind of talent “seamanship” but that day, he got lost. He was rowing, rowing desperately, sweat coming off his face.

“Then abruptly, he just shook his head and stopped. “We're caught in something.” He said. “Something else is happening. The water is moving.”

“It is the wake,” our rescued victim told us. “You're caught in the tow of the water. We have to go. We have to...” He went for the side of the boat. As if to jump aboard so that he could swim away. Swim desperately away. At the time, I remember thinking that he was mad as his thrashing around threatened to capsize us and send us into the water ourselves. He fought us, in lashing out, he struck my sister on the head, punched my father in the gut and threw me aside so that I twisted my hand around as I fell into the depths of my boat, breaking my wrist.

“I still feel it sometimes, in cold weather or when the rain is coming.

“In the end I grabbed something, a hook or something and passed it to my father who clubbed the man unconscious.

“But we were turned around now. So far gone that we had no way of getting back to land now. Father was trying to staunch the blood pouring from my sister's head while she wept with the shock and the pain and the fear. The half-drowned man's fear was contagious and I was babbling at my father about having to get out of there. That we had to move and get home.

“He ignored me, because what else was he going to do? Then we stopped, the words just seemed to die in our mouths and in our throats. It was as though the language was choked out of us. We just sat there, looking at each other and none of us could tell each other what we were feeling. My sister's eyes widened and my father rubbed his hands together and began to tremble. Lord only knows what I looked like as the three of us just stood there and looked out into the mist to see what was going to happen next.

“I don't know what I expected. I suppose I was thinking of some great sea monster. Something with tentacles or the fabled white whale that you sometimes hear about in this part of the world. But it was nothing like that. At first it was a shadow. Just a deepening in the shade of the mist off to our port side.

“But then I realised what it was that I had heard, what I had felt really, the thing that made us stop and stare. It had been a noise. A noise that I hadn't even registered, not really. It was the gentle lap of water against a wooden hull, the creak of a rope stretching and the gentle ripple of wind across the canvas.

“It was the sound of a boat, a ship really.

“It's funny, I've lived for a long time now but I've never quite figured out the point at which a boat turns into a ship. When does that happen?

“But you don't realise just how big a thing is until you see it from water level. It was huge, a gigantic leviathan of a ship coming out of our worst dreams. Black it was, so black that it seemed to suck the light out of the air around us. It wasn't doing much more than drift towards us, but it was the slow, inexorable feeling of a mudslide or an avalanche just beginning, or that moment that you see a boulder beginning to move and you know that there's nothing that you can do to stop it.

“And it was coming straight for us.”

He paused in his narrative. It was a disjointed story, it seemed to dance on the edge of things, just as he seemed to be getting close to a big reveal he seemed to dart away from it just as quickly. It was.... I wanna say that it was bitty. It stopped and started without warning.

Then he moved as the story began again.

“Looking back, we could easily have gotten out of the way. The sheer movement of the water around so huge a ship would have pushed us aside like a leaf moving out of the way of a branch floating down the stream. All Father had to do was to just push us, just a little with the oars but he was frozen in fear, the same as the rest of us.

“But I think we all saw the impact coming. As the ship struck our boat and it simply shattered. I am ashamed to admit that I was frozen with fear. I couldn't move even though I desperately wanted to. I desperately wanted to do anything. Fortunately my father knew what to do and he seized me by the back of the neck and tucked me under his arm as he threw my sister on his back and leapt for....

“A rope as it turned out. I tried to help him. To grab onto the rope myself but I had forgotten my broken wrist as I screamed in agony from the jarring tug at the injury. But all we could do was hang there. I had no idea what we were hanging on to but I felt the warmth of my fathers fur coat and the terrified whimpers of my sister....

“And myself.

“There was a desperately cold, flat surface against my back, it felt as though there were... blobs in the surface. Small bumps but I couldn't.... Then we started to move, the feeling and sound of rope rubbing against wood and a strange burning smell. Strong hands grabbed me and pulled me over a wooden railing which was when I felt wood beneath my fingertips.

“The deck was cold. I remember that, the deck was cold and my hands wanted to stick to it as though it was frozen metal. You know, the way that people always tell you not to stick your tongue out onto metal in the winter in case it gets stuck. That was exactly what it was like. But it was not the only reason I was frozen. The sudden terror of nearly drowning, the splinter of the wood from my families fishing boat, the infectious terror of the drowning man that had seized my heart. All of these things still had a hold over me. I couldn't breathe and I lay there, shaking.

“My sister was next to me and we held each other, tight like we didn't want to let each other go.”

A single tear rolled down his cheek. “Oh how I miss my sister.”

I had to hang my head as I felt the dampness in his eyes find an echo in my own. I was reminded of Francesca coming into my room at night to hug me after I had had a particularly brutal row with father. After we had spent an evening meal screaming at each other and I didn't feel as though I could go to Emma for consolation, let alone my mother, Francesca would occasionally come to hug me fiercely and to tell me that she loved me and that she couldn't understand our father's rage. And on those times when Father's temper was directed against her, a much rarer occurrence, then she would come and weep into my pillow until the emotion had exhausted her beyond the point of sleep.

I missed her so much.

“But then strong hands hauled me to my feet. My father pulling me up to stand next to him. He clapped me on the shoulder and for the first and last time he clapped me on the shoulder “You did well,” he told me. I nearly wept with the released emotion of it as he bent and hugged my sister to himself and her own tears came strong and hard.

“We stood then and turned which was when we turned to see those people that had saved us.

“You will already have heard stories about just how large the ship is but to me, a small.... child really, from a small fishing village. I had seen the mighty longships of our masters in the distance and thought that they had looked large. But they were nothing compared to what was happening here. It was immense, the deck alone was bigger than a good part of our village although in truth, the village was little more than a collection of small huts with only a few families in it.

“Hard wood greeted us, with black metal finishings. Ropes everywhere, more ropes and pulleys than anything I've ever seen on a ship as they come into the harbour in Kaer Trolde. It was also a much clearer deck. There was more room, a large wooden lattice in the middle of it but on most ships that I see, there are barrels and crates and spare sail and all kinds of things, all over the place. This was clear, nothing there.

“But I didn't have much time to take it in as then I saw the crew. They were a lot like the drowning man in appearance, small men mostly, wearing clothes that were far too big for them. They were thin, almost skeletally so. They looked on the verge of death and some, I thought, might even have been over the line into death itself. They stood around looking at us. Other than a pair on the other side of the ship who were hauling the drowning man over the side. He was shivering too as they heaved him onto the deck and he just lay there.

“My father tried to talk to them “Thank you.” He said. “Thank you so much for rescuing my children and I. Masters I thank you... from the bottom... of...” His words tailed off as they all just stood there looking at us, unmoving. Then they looked over our shoulders towards the back of the ship where a pair of figures were walking towards us. I remember thinking that I heard the cry of a bird somewhere, somewhere far above us.

“One was tall and heavily cloaked so that we couldn't see anything of him. He was so tall that he towered over my father who was not a small man, I would put him at well over seven feet tall. He had a sword at his side and carried a scythe which he walked with as though it was some form of a staff, or the way a man might walk with a spear. The hand that held it was skeletal. Literally skeletal. As in, it was the hand of a skeleton.

“The other figure was a woman. She was shorter, much shorter. I didn't really get the chance to see much of her but she was dressed strangely. Her skin was white, snow white, paper white and she was thin as well although it was the kind of slender that came with a slender frame rather than because of any kind of starvation or illness. She had an unruly mop of long black hair on top of her head but it wasn't matted or braided. She wore a thin black vest despite the cold, black trousers and strange black boots that pointed upwards at the toe. The trousers were held up by a black belt with silver buckles and she wore a silver ankh as a pendant around her neck. She was... She was beautiful and she smiled in a friendly kind of way but there was an implacable feeling about her. As though there was nothing that you could do or say to get round her.

“The two walked in front of us and looked at the three of us, examined us up and down. I remember that the woman winked at my sister.

“The cloaked figure turned to his companion and spoke “Shall we play?” He said. It was strange, I have never heard anything like that voice before or since. The words seemed to move past my ears and go straight to that part of my mind that registers language.

“Why not?” She answered before almost collapsing so that she sat on the deck cross-legged.

“The man knelt, it had a much more regal attitude about it, as though there was something ceremonial happening. From within his robe he produced a set of dice and shook them, they rattled in his hand.

“Then he pointed at my sister and he rolled the dice, the woman swiftly gathered up the small cubes and rolled herself. She sighed a little in disappointment before shrugging apologetically at my sister.

“My sister asked what that meant, or rather she began to ask that question because she got half way through asking it when she simply crumpled.

“She was dead. My little sister, dark haired and dark eyed with a smile that was made for mischeif and her life was just snuffed out. Just like that.

“I gasped as the shock of what was happening struck me between the eyes. I didn't have time to register her death before the bony hand was pointing at Father.”

“The dice rolled and my father turned to me. “Be strong my son,” he told me and although I didn't see what happened with the dice, I didn't need to. It was like watching a puppet's strings being cut as he just seemed to fold in on himself. All life and motion and energy just left him. Just like that.

“I recoiled from him, tumbling backwards until I felt the rail at my back. A crew-member reached over and grabbed me by the shoulder to keep me from tumbling over the edge. I was just Skelligan enough to turn towards the pointed finger as the dice rolled. Just Skelligan enough to see the woman reach for the dice and roll them herself. Just Skelligan enough to hear her crow with triumph as she won the game.

“He is mine,” She laughed at her tall opponent. “Mine and by far the greater prize.”

The tall figure in the robe rose to his feet and bowed before her as she danced a little dance of joy on the deck before rushing over to me and hugging me fiercely with a laugh. “Oh, you and I are going to have so much fun,” she told me.

“Strong hands grabbed me and I had enough time to feel the open air as I fell backwards but nothing could prepare me for the awful cold of the water.”

Lennox laughed abruptly, “They always lose consciousness don't they, the heroes in stories, when something like that happens. When they hit the freezing cold water they lose consciousness? I didn't though. I felt the cold enter me like millions of daggers, like millions of hooks, reaching inside me and tearing at my flesh. Agony doesn't describe it properly. My breath exploded from my lungs with the shock of it and I breathed in with reflex and then the cold was inside me, far more than the panic of realizing that I was drowning and that I couldn't breathe. But it hurt so much.”

He shrugged. “But I didn't die did I. I lost consciousness multiple times but I was always aware that I was drowning, the pressure against my chest, the cold in my throat. I didn't have the strength to struggle. I have no way of knowing how long I was at sea but I was pulled from the water, ironically, by a fisherman who took me back to his village.

“I won't talk to you about the pain of getting the sea water out of my lungs, or the sickness from swallowing so much and the fevers and things. I should have died during my recovery as well as during the actual, you know, drowning part of things.

“I regained my strength but something else had entered me then. An awful fear that I could not get rid of. I had always been a fearful child but now I was frozen with fear all the time. Cowardice some might call it. I didn't dare return to my original village, I didn't know how I would explain to them the loss of my father or my sister and so I didn't.

“I wandered for a while. It didn't take long before I discovered my immortality but I didn't find it the blessing that I thought it would be. I still couldn't manage to be any kind of a Warrior. I had discovered that sometimes, death is the respite from pain and so I couldn't.... I feared the pain. In the intervening years I have been fisherman again although my fear of the water was debilitating. I became a river fisherman, maintaining nets across streams. I have been builder, ship builder, merchant, pedlar, innkeeper at one point although people took advantage of me.

“Then I found a place here and I've been here for a long time.”

It took us a moment to realise that he had stopped talking after which there were some exchanged glances between Ciri and I. Ermion hadn't looked up from his desk in the time that it had taken the story to come out. I don't think that it was new to him at all.

“Why now?” Kerrass asked. “Why not before? There have been Witchers in the islands for years, on and off. Or users of magic. Why now?”

“Because I could never afford a Witcher.” Lennox admitted. “Because most Witchers would listen to the story and walk away. Because you owe me and want something from me. Because you don't have a choice.”

He looked up at us. “I won't deny that I am being an opportunist here. The thing needs to go. Not just for my vengeance but for all the other reasons as well. It harms the islands. It does. It kills people, animals and the natural order of things. Soon it will start to effect the continent as well if it hasn't already. The weather changes alone will have an effect on this years harvests on the continent. It must be dismissed, destroyed... whatever and it needs to happen this time. So yes, I'm holding it over you but do not think that it does not need to be done.”

Kerrass nodded and frowned in thought for a while, staring into space.

We waited, Lennox fidgeted, but in the end, Kerrass nodded. “Get out.” He told Lennox. “Get out, but be aware that I might have more questions for you. Be aware of that and know that if you leave, or if you try and distract me then I will hunt you down as surely as if you tried to go back on your word.”

Lennox nodded and fled.

There was a long pause as I listened to the pulse of blood in my ears.

“What a load of horse shite.” Kerrass said to no-one in particular.

“You don't believe him?” Ermion asked quietly.

Kerrass seemed startled, as though he hadn't really meant to speak aloud.

“I think there is truth in there.” He mused. “But I couldn't tell you where that truth is.”

“That was the same story he told me when I first asked him about his obsession with the Skeleton Ship.”

“That's it.” Kerrass came to his feet and started pacing around. “That's what it felt like. It felt like a story that had been told countless times. Told and repeated, not just aloud but to himself as well. So many times until even he believed it. There is not a single word in that tale that he just told us, not one, that could not be inferred and extrapolated from what the Skalds said in the hall at Kaer Trolde. Not one word.”

“I didn't think he was lying,” Ciri told the room although, again, I got more of the impression that she was just thinking aloud. “And I listen to liars all day, every day. He certainly believed what he was saying.”

“Yes but that doesn't make it true.” Kerrass replied turning back to Ermion. “There wasn't a single part of that story that couldn't be assembled from other tellings of the Skeleton Ship. Not a single part of it.”

“That doesn't make it untrue.” Ermion countered.

“But, did you see the way he was tugging on Freddie's heart strings? All that shit about loving his sister and about how she was the bright light in his family unit. About how his father was an angry man who he, Lennox, did not get along with. He was saying that stuff to get Freddie on his side. To put Freddie in his shoes. So that he would identify with him. I was wrong earlier, those words were made up today, for this telling of the story.”

“That still doesn't make it untrue.” Ermion said. “I am angry with Lennox, he has usurped his authority and decided to hire a Witcher. I agree with you that that is what he has done. He has hired you which is against our order of things. Druids don't hire Witchers because the world needs to learn to stand on it's own feet. Artificial constructs to do all of our chores for us are anathema to nature. We must learn to adapt, fight back or we must admit that it is time for our own destruction. But you cannot tell me that he is lying. Not without proof.

“That is the same story he told me when I arrived here. I also agree that he was using elements of his story to manipulate Lord Frederick into siding with him. But the story of him being a Fisherman who ran afoul of the Skeleton Ship is the same story. It's the same story he tells every time.”

“That doesn't prove anything.” Kerrass countered. “All that that says is that he could be trotting out the same lies over and over again. He's not stupid. He could easily add small variations in order to add some weight to things.” He subsided a little, took some deep breaths and sat back down.

“So,” he began again. “So, let's talk about what we do know. He was here when you arrived in Skellige to join the Druid's circle here?”

“Yes, he was.”

“So he's old?”

“Very. Far older than me.”

“Has he always looked the same?”

“To my knowledge he has.”

“Interesting, yet his story seemed to suggest that he was a much younger man when he first encountered the Skeleton Ship.” Kerrass rubbed his forehead, just above his eyes. It was a new gesture that I had started seeing more and more often since his ordeal in the North.

“That I cannot answer for.”

“If he is older than you.” Kerrass began after a moment, “and therefore more experienced than you, then why isn't he the head of this circle of druids.”

“Because he's right. He is a coward. There are other factors as well such as the fact that he is extremely knowledgable in certain areas. His knowledge about otherworldly matters is vast and he has studied every... every scrap of information that he could in order to get to that point. But he has little interest in other matters. He has no interest in what goes on in this world.

“There is the fact that I have magic which he does not as well I suppose, that and his lack of interest in being in charge on any level.

“But he is a coward. He would never have stood up to Madman Lugos. He would not have helped Geralt of Rivia to shut off your birth mother,” he gestured at Ciri, “from her power before she shatter Cintra. I'm not boasting there but the fact remains that being a head druid means that you have to stand tall in the face of people who are often more powerful than you and insisting that they back down. He would not have done that. He would have done what he was told and fled from the consequences of his actions.”

Kerrass nodded.

“Ok, lets talk about something else then.”

“Is it time for something to eat yet,” Ciri complained. “We've been sat in here for what feels like hours.”

Ermion laughed. “Ah, little Swallow. I forget how your appetite runs.”

“Being as wonderful as I am takes work.” She agreed.

Food and drink was sent for during which time Kerrass came over to me while Ermion and Ciri bickered.

“You alright?” he asked me.”

“No.” I told him. “No, I'm not alright. The story got to me Kerrass. I would be lying if I tried to claim that it didn't. It made it personal for me. It brought me into the thick of things and I found myself imagining what it would be like if that had happened to me.”

“He was manipulating you Freddie.”

“And it worked, I hate him for it but it worked. If he had just asked me for help, asked us for help then we would have....”

“We would have walked away Freddie. I'm not lying here. This is a political thing and I don't like it. If you had tried to help him then I would have dragged you away by the scruff of the neck. If this happens, we are going to change the Skelligan isles for a long time. Maybe even forever and they won't thank us for it. That's a little bit above my remit.”

“You're right.” I agreed. “And that is why I'm not alright. I'm angry.”

“Remind yourself of that.” Kerrass told me. “And remind yourself that he is manipulating you. Do not let go of that truth.”

We ate and the food was wonderful. Brilliantly seasoned and flavoured with all manner of herbs. Ermion was a genial host and asked many questions and after a little while I felt strong enough to ask a question of my own.

“Lord Ermion, why the meat. Is that not against the druid's laws.”

“You thought we were all Vegetarians?”

“It had occurred to me.”

“Well, if we refused to take anything from the natural world, then we couldn't eat vegetables either. The simple truth is that humans are omnivores. We need meat, just as we need vegetables and fruit. It gives us something that other foods do not and so it is vital that we eat meat. One day, I hope that we can get to the stage where we do not need to hunt animals or fish. We won't need to harvest crops and just live in harmony with the rest of the world. But we are not there yet.

“In the meantime, we still need to eat meat, just like anything else.”

We chatted for a while about small things but we were avoiding the subject. It was Ermion that snapped first.

“You have more questions.” He told Kerrass who laughed.

“There are always more questions Lord Ermion, you know that better than most. Always more questions.”

Ermion grinned in response. “Are all Cat Witchers like you?”

“You haven't met another one?”

“Not to have an extended conversation with,”

“Then I will say that my school runs the extremes. We are a school of extreme personalities, not all of which are pleasant.”

“I had heard such stories but I never pay attention to stories when I could get at the truth.”

“A wise precaution in my experience.”

“So ask your questions.”

Ciri and I sat at the table, eyes flickering between Kerrass and Lord Ermion as each spoke. Again, I had the feeling of a game being played between the two of them, Gwent maybe or chess.

“Right,” Kerrass straightened his chair and settled himself properly. “Setting aside the question of Lennox and his peculiarities, which are many, is he correct?”

“In what way?”

“Does the Skeleton Ship need hunting?”

“That's too large a question.”

“Very well, let's break it down. Is the situation getting worse?”

“It was. Under King Bran there was going to need to be something done about it.” He sighed and poured himself a cup of the ale that had been brought to the table with all of the food. “At first, I will admit to being worried about things when Cerys was elected queen. Changes needed to be made to the islands but I thought that that would be too much too quickly. The An Craites are powerful anyway, kept alive by their honour and their fealty to King Bran which was open and honest. But then to have a new monarch come from their ranks, a woman at that and a woman who had won her throne using methods that were not entirely normal...”

“Normal?” I asked.

“Yes. Normally, candidates for the throne of Skellige attain their throne through some act of valour. Conquering something, taking a prize, killing a great monster, that kind of thing. She didn't. There was a monster involved certainly but what she did was to lift the cloud of madness from one of the Jarls of Skellige. There was a cunning to her actions that upset many. It wasn't a matter of dispute that she had done the islands a great service but there was something about it that struck some people the wrong way. They thought that it was manipulative.

“I'm an outsider here, as much as you are. It's another of the qualities that got me chosen for my position here because it means that I am not blinded by affection for society here and I could see where they were coming from...

“But I'm getting off topic.

“One of the things that Cerys was determined to do was to correct our actions in the face of the Skeleton Ship. She had ideas about how to handle it properly, not just with regards to raiding, trade and farming. And to be fair to her, those methods worked the first time the ship passed since the beginning of her reign and there is no reason to suspect that they won't this time as well.”

“If there is one thing that I know about Druids,” Kerrass began, “Then it's that their thinking is not just about the people.”

“And you would be correct. There is no taking away from the fact that the passage of the Skeleton Ship damages the Eco-system here. It interrupts the regular passage of seasons so plants that are in the process of blooming, animals that are in the middle of their birthing seasons. Fish that are shoaling. All of these things are damaged and set back. There are mutations of plants that are beginning to adapt, that just shut down at the onset of the great freeze which is intriguing but at the same time...”

He tailed off with a shrug.

“And is it getting worse?” Kerrass asked. “If we don't solve the problem now will it still need solving later?”

“It does need solving.” Ermion said with a sigh. “The question is whether or not you will survive the solving.”

“A threat?” Ciri grimaced.

“A warning. Traditions are being shattered all over the islands, mostly due to the reforms that Cerys has introduced. But some are changing in other ways too. They are far from popular. The Skeleton Ship is a tradition now. It's an element of Skelligan culture and the traditionalists will not be pleased at an upstart Witcher, northern Lordling and Empress of the South, upsetting what they see as the natural order of things. You will need to be cautious.”

“We need to put this past the Queen.” Ciri told us. “She's the ultimate arbitrator of these things.”

Kerrass nodded his agreement.

“Where else should we look?” He asked Ermion.

“I have helped as much as I am willing to do so.” Ermion sighed.

“Oh, come on uncle,” Ciri chided.

“No. I don't agree with what Witchers do. I have helped enough as it is. Maybe too much. But I must remain seperate. I am sorry for Lennox's manipulations. But that doesn't change the fact that... I am a druid. There is a problem, I am not denying that. It needs to be solved but we need to be the ones that solve it. We must adapt, evolve or die.”

Ciri sighed and Kerrass shook his head. There was no budging Ermion on this it would seem, he had made up his mind.

“Then we shall take our leave.” Kerrass told him. “We must be heading back to Kaer Trolde and decide what we are going to do next.”

“As druid, I cannot wish you luck. Indeed, I must instruct you to leave all of this well enough alone. But as a man... I am sorry Lord Frederick. Truly sorry. If I had the information that you were looking for, I would have given it to you freely but alas...”

“We will find it anyway.” I told him. More to hear myself say it, I think, than anything else.

But there was no more to say and we left, Kerrass' head sunken in thought.