Chapter 57: The rule of no tongue (2)

We ate, mopping up the juice with half a loaf of bread each.

“That's another thing.” I said taking a drink from the bottle that Kerrass offered. One of the things that was regularly in the supply caches were bottles of local vintage. “Oof that's good.”

“One of the benefits of the south.” Kerrass agreed. “The beer might be piss but the wine is excellent. You were saying?”

“Yes. What the fuck is it still doing here?” I wiped the neck of the bottle and passed it back. “Dragons are... valuable. Their blood costs a fortune in alchemical circles. Their scales make better than average leather armour. I don't know for certain but I'm pretty sure that whenever a dragon is found, people are paying a fortune for their toenails and entrails. So why is this one still here? Hell, I've heard that famous Dragon hunting mercenary companies like the Crinfrid Reavers are having to branch out into hunting Griffins and joining regular armies because there aren't enough dragons to keep the money in their pockets.”

Kerrass passed the bottle back to me.

“But here we are.” I took a swig. “In a valley where the dragon visibly flies overhead in the distance. Why haven't half a dozen Sorcerers and Sorceresses turned up with a ballistae crew to blast it out of the sky. I know why you haven't done it but, why haven't they? A mage could retire on the claw of one of those things, or so I'm told.”

“And you'd be right.” Kerrass said.

“So tell me about Dragons.”

“In the morning.”

We marched on and Kerrass talked about Dragons. His lecture was relatively short and to the point.

Condensing it and my, many, questions into a readable format though it goes like this.

Dragons, along with cats which possibly goes a long way towards explaining why cats are the way they are, are the only creatures that actively absorb magical energy which is why they are so useful in the alchemical arts. Those people that argue that Dragons are the last manifestation of chaos on the surface of the continent are mostly incorrect. They are simply large beasts that have an incredible capacity for violence and destruction but the truth is that they very rarely go out of their way to hunt humans. Humans tend to make life so much more difficult to be hunted and, being relatively intelligent creatures, preferring an easy life, Dragons would prefer to sneak off with the odd sheep or goat than attack humans that might shoot at it or otherwise harm it.

In the vast majority of cases, what is actually going on is that the humans in question are hunting the beasts for access to the beasts horde of treasure. This is also largely a myth as such hordes are rare and occur according to the character of the dragon themselves. Many dragons are nomadic and as such are unable to carry their wealth around with them, so they don't bother gathering it in the first place.

Unfortunately for the species, the exception proved the rule and that is why people hunt Dragons. Witchers don't hunt Dragons for two reasons. The first being that Dragons don't really kill humans unless the human attacks it first. In which case, the person who decides to attack the several tons of teeth, scales, claws and wings gets everything that they deserve. The other reason is that Dragons are relatively intelligent. In some cases highly intelligent and can be reasoned with.

Personally I suspect that this is the Witcher's small act of rebellion. One of the reasons that the Witchers were created was so that they could help the mages drive the dragons away and tame the countryside. In refusing to hunt dragons, the Witchers are telling their creators to go and fuck themselves. I also suspect that they feel a certain amount of kinship with the beasts. Lonely creatures, hunting and living according to their own rules before “civilisation” drives them off into the wilds where they are more acceptable.

If you wish to learn more about the species then may I recommend “About Dragons” by Jan Borren of Zerrikania. An interesting text although I guess that the name is probably a pseudonym of sorts.

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“So are Dragons intelligent?” I asked after he'd finished his lecture.

“It varies. Some are known to be highly intelligent, magical creatures. But on the other hand, some are as dumb as posts.”

“A lot like humans then,”

“I'm glad you see the resemblance.”

“So There are five types?”

“Yes. White, Black, Green, Red and Rock Dragons.”

“Not Golden Dragons.”

“If they exist at all, which I doubt despite the tales from the bard about one such, then I have never seen one. Nor have I heard of any academic sources that have discussed one. To my mind and memory, Golden dragons only turn up in stories. That includes the one that turned up in The White Wolf's adventure with the Dragon.”

“Well anyway, that's beside the point. We know that this one is Black.”

“We do.” Thanks for reading on ManaNovel!

“Is the thing about them sleeping on mounds of treasure true?”

“It is. But it's more of a preference thing than anything else. They primarily prefer to sleep in places of intense magical power.”

“And then absorb that same power?”

“Yes.”

“What do they do with it?”

“No-one knows.”

“Lovely. So here's the big question Kerrass are you ready?”

“Was that the question, asking whether or not I'm ready?”

“You're a sarcastic bastard at this time of day. Here's the question. What's different about this Dragon compared to other dragons of your experience.”

Kerrass took a while to think about this.

“Ok, I haven't got really close to it but one of the main things is that it's black. Really black. Not the dark brown with caked mud that normally goes along with a black dragon.”

“Why do they call them “Black” dragons then if they're not really black?”

“I suspect it's to give them classifications. People prefer to put their fears in boxes and that way they feel as though they're in control.”

“That was awfully profound Kerrass, are you feeling alright?”

Kerrass glared at me.

“But as I was saying.” He went on, “Black dragons prefer to live in Marshes and bog areas. Volcanic springs and hot mud springs that kind of thing.”

“Hardly the local climate. It's quite cold up here. There's snow on the peaks and the place is full of fur trees, pasture land and scenic valleys and dells. Not exactly volcanic mud pools and things.”

“No.”

“Anything else?”

“It breathes fire. Black dragons breathe a kind of corrosive liquid, that gives off noxious fumes that are deadly to most living beings. That's why hunting black dragons is dangerous...”

“It strikes me that hunting dragons in general is dangerous.”

“Yes but in different ways. For Black Dragons you have to be careful of marsh lands. Sinking pools, sucking mud and quicksand. Also, Black Dragons mark their territory by spraying that corrosive stuff around the area. That way, anyone who gets close to it is too busy worrying about the fact that their eyes are bleeding rather than hunting the dragon itself.”

“So it looks like a black dragon but it behaves like a green dragon and has the breath of a red dragon.”

“That's pretty much the size and shape of it.”

“Anything else about it.”

Kerrass mused for a moment.

“It's ruff is smaller than most dragons...”

“You mean the spikes coming out of it's neck?”

“Yes, but it's horns are much larger. Much more pronounced.”

I nodded.

“So what we're looking at here is the very real possibility that it's either, not really a dragon. Or that it's an unknown type of dragon.”

“Yes.”

“So it's not a dragon then.” I decided.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because it's just not natural. It arrived, near enough to the day that the curse was enacted. It is obviously linked to the Princess in some way as it reacts to what happens to her in the same way that the villagers do. Also, it's been around in one place for over a hundred and twenty years. Are Dragons naturally that long lived?”

“There's no real records or recordings of them. You don't study dragons. You run from them. When a dragon turns up, people go out of their way to hunt them down at which point they either fly off after killing a large number of their attackers, or they die. There isn't often a chance to sit down with one and discuss it's age or the doings of it's ancestors over tea and cake.”

“That's valid.”

“They are magical creatures though. If left to their own devices, magical creatures do generally live a lot longer than non-magical creatures.”

“Fair enough. But that's a question that I'm going to try and explore.”

Kerrass nodded in response. We rode for a bit in silence

“Is there anything else that you have in mind?” Kerrass asked.

“I do have one other question that I would like an answer to.”

“Which is?”

“Why were King Stefan and his wife so utterly, mind meltingly stupid?”

“What?”

“Seriously, think about it. Here's your daughter. Your little bundle of joy which you have managed to bring to life after many failed attempts. You've managed to keep it alive for a whole year which, even allowing for the fact that it was a royal baby, given the time period is no easy task. You have a celebration because why the fuck wouldn't you. Of course you celebrate. It's a thing worth celebrating.

“So you gather all your friends, your nobles and a significant number of your citizens into one place. I understand that they even declared a national holiday. They do all of this, including inviting seven “good” Sorceresses to provide blessings and whatever else. Then they forget to invite the last Sorceress. The big bad one. According to the story itself, she's the most powerful of the lot and they just forget to invite her.”

“It does seem rather foolish.”

“I would have sent a carriage with a cavalry escort to make sure that her invitation was delivered. Then I would have offered to have her escorted to the party. But no, they forget. They “didn't expect” her because she had been in a tower for many years and was “presumed to have died”. Please. Don't give me that shite.

“Again, cavalry escort. Hammering on the tower just to make sure. At the time there hadn't been any of the more recent anti magical sentiment and so the entire countryside was dotted with magical people living and studying in their magical towers. We wouldn't have tamed the wilderness without them, so the average person probably knew a lot more about mages, wizards, Sorceresses and the like than we do now. They would know that Wizards occasionally look down to work on a project and then don't look up again for a while. So why were the King and Queen so stupid?”

“It's a valid question. Any theories?”

“Several unfortunately. I hope to learn more when we get there.”

“So what's the plan then. Get in and look for the library?”

“Pretty much, or any diaries or records of the place.”

“Those books are going to be old and weathered. Difficult to read.”

“I know, but it's the only thing I can think of.”

We set camp relatively early that night. We expected to get to the castle at some point the following day and wanted to get an early start.

But despite this, neither of us could sleep.

Kerrass was excited I think and my brain was turning things over and over.

“So what are your theories?” Kerrass asked after we'd both spent far too long staring into the fire.

“Mmm?”

“About why they didn't invite this Sorceress?”

I poked at the fire with a stick.

“The first thought was that I've never heard of an ugly Sorceress but by all accounts, Queen Leah was relatively plain for King Stefan's tastes. So my first thought was that the Queen simply decided that she wouldn't be invited because this evil Sorceress was closest to King Stefan's type and didn't want her there out of jealousy.”

“You don't sound as though you like that theory.”

“No. There were seven other Sorceresses invited. None of them would be ugly either and from what I've heard and read. King Stefan was not exactly that choosy. He liked women in all of their wonderous variety. Also, if Queen Leah decided to object to people that the King had been attracted to then no-one would have turned up tot he party. The same if she had objected to this Sorceress on the basis that she and King Stefan had had a thing in the past.”

Kerrass grunted in agreement. “Any thoughts about the fact that she was supposed to be the “evil” Sorceress?”

“It's possible but again You don't get to be King, or Queen for that matter, by being stupid. Or naïve. Those times were a lot more brutal both here and in the north. This Kingdom was wealthy to be sure and so might have had more opportunity to allow themselves the luxury of believing in things like good and evil but I don't buy it. Again, putting myself in their positions... I would want the evil Sorceress there. I would make her the guest of honour. There's also the other fact that she had a tower, supposedly, on the Kings lands. Just refuse that permission or hire a bunch of other magic users to get rid of her.

“I just...I can't believe that a King or Queen would be that stupid. Claiming to have “forgotten her” sounds like a revisionist history after an excuse given at a feast. I can well believe that the King and Queen told this “evil Sorceress” that they had forgotten her in the same way that I used to “forget” to bring my homework to my tutors every time I couldn't be bothered to do it.”

Kerrass was nodding as I spoke.

“No Kerrass. They decided not to invite her. There was a reason behind it. They did it deliberately. The question is...”

“Why did they do that?”

“Precisely.”

We sat in silence for a while. Then I giggled suddenly.

“Maybe they didn't forget.” I said, Kerrass' surprised face feeding my sudden burst of hilarity. “Maybe the Dragon used to guard her tower and every time they sent a messenger, it couldn't get through because the Dragon kept eating them.”

Kerrass chuckled along with me. “It would explain it wouldn't it.”

“It would.” My giggling fit left me as fast as it had arrived.

“But then there's the level of hate in the curse.” I wondered aloud.

“What do you mean?”

“Well. The curse wasn't a death curse at the baby. It was a death curse in sixteen years. “On her sixteenth birthday she will prick her finger on a spinning wheel and then die”. That's not a curse of the moment. That needed thought. That needed premeditation and preparation. You don't do that kind of thing on a whim. Then there's an aftermath.”

Kerrass said nothing. He just stared at me.

“After the curse was cast by an angry Sorceress that your child would die. Wouldn't you send around the world for help? Also, if the Sorceress was still there, wouldn't you beg, plead and grovel for her to lift the curse? When all was said and done, would you try and kill the Sorceress in the hope that that would dismiss the curse in turn?

“I would.

“I would try anything and everything. I would bankrupt myself and the Kingdom in an effort to save my baby. So what happened after the curse. In the sixteen years after the curse was first cast. What did the King and Queen do? Could they not convince the Sorceress to lift the curse? Why not? How is a person capable of so much hate directed at a baby?

“Also, swapping perspectives for a moment and putting ourselves in the shoes of the “evil” Sorceress. After we've cast our curse so that the child will die in sixteen years. We then allow the Good Sorceress who, according to the story, is substantially weaker than us to lessen the effects of the curse? Would we allow our curse to be manipulated like that? Or would we bitch-slap the weaker Sorceress for daring to interfere and then reinforcing our original curse?”

“You might have something there.”

I subsided, a little surprised at how worked up I had gotten

“It's all guesswork though. All of it. We need more facts. More data to work with. You yourself would be cross if we were trying to decide what kind of monster was attacking a village based on the guesswork of the villagers.”

“I would.”

“So lets see what we think when we've got some more facts.”

“That's assuming that there are any more facts to be had.”

“Optimism Kerrass. Optimism.”

“Optimism is all well and good but she's been asleep for over a hundred and twenty years now. Well over the original hundred that she was going to be asleep and yet here we are. Don't you think that if there is something to find then it would already have been found?”

“The thought had crossed my mind but at the same time there is another possibility. That they haven't looked at it from the right perspective before.”

“What do you mean?”

“We see it in scholarly fields over and over again. People look at the same problem for days, sometimes weeks, or yes, even years. But then someone new comes along and just happens to be standing in the right patch of floor at the right time with the right past history that makes them think in a certain way. Then that day when that person is standing there...”

“In the right place at the right time.”

“Precisely. That day, they are standing there and then they look at the diagram or formula and the light falls across it in a slightly different way so that they look at it for a moment, tilt their heads and then say something along the lines of “Have you considered this?” and then the whole room goes silent?”

Kerrass sighed and leant back trying, again, to get a bit of sleep.

“Do you think that might be the case here?” He asked.

“I don't know Kerrass. I hope so. But all that time ago when you asked me to come here with you to investigate this place, you must have thought so... Otherwise you wouldn't have brought us here.”

Kerrass grunted.

“I know Freddie, I know. I'm just too used to being disappointed. I don't want to get my hopes up before we go in there and whatever you want to look at doesn't work and we end up chasing our tails.”

“You sound like me the day before the Yule presents are handed out.”

“That's exactly what it sounds like.”

“Good night Kerrass.”

We didn't talk any more that night although I doubt either of us slept much.

We got to the castle about mid-morning the following day.

It was not a defensible castle. Calling it a castle is possibly a bit of a mis-labeling of the thing. Palace might have been closer to the word.

It was also badly overgrown with ivory and the now, ever present thorn vines. Looking at the wall, you could probably even climb it with relative ease, hand over hand and without the need for rope. The danger there would be the lack of light meaning that there could be blade thorns at any point waiting to trip you up and impale the careless person. Indeed there were several corpses that could be found around the base of the wall.

I waited while Kerrass had a look around. Eventually with a bit of prodding he cleared a patch of wall and stared at some markings that had been scratched into the stone before beckoning to me. The markings were regarding the degree of sun in the sky off the compass points and Kerrass pulled out a map to show me.

“We're here.” He pointed at the part of the castle walls. “That means that we've come a little further north than was entirely ideal. We'll pick our way around the castle to the south which is where the back entrance is.”

I nodded.

“The path is not ideal as this bit is meant to be difficult to traverse but we can't afford to lose sight of the wall as we'll be forcing a path.”

I nodded my understanding again. Kerrass was excited, just a touch of colour in his face, pupils just slightly dilated. He was almost visibly holding himself back from just rushing ahead.

We worked, chopping our way through the undergrowth. Step by cautious step. We both had cuts by the end of it, as thin and as straight as paper cuts. They were almost painless at the time but only started to hurt afterwards when Kerrass insisted that we take the time to clean and bind them.

As we came round the tower Kerrass became more confident about where he was.

“This place always changes in ways that you least expect.” He commented when I asked him about having been hear before. “The thorns regrow and are still growing although at a much slower rate than they do at the border. But it's so easy, so very easy to get turned around. Then you trip, tumble and then...well, look at that.”

He gestured to a relatively recent body. I could tell because it still had relatively fleshy limbs although some scavenger had been worrying at it. It looked as though he had fallen onto a thorn that had passed through his thigh.

Kerrass checked his boots for fit before declaring that someone else had already clearly been at the corpse.

We came round the tower, as I said and Kerrass led us down into a dip that I suspected had once been a part of a moat or drainage tunnel. The ground became squishy underfoot and there was the smell of rotting vegetable matter. I can't say for certain what it was for but I know that the donkey was particularly reluctant to head into that tunnel.

Almost without noticing the air became very dark and Kerrass bent to light a torch. Then he swore.

“Some idiot has left the door open so the vines have pushed through. The wall will collapse in a couple of years and then we'll need to find a new way in. As it is this...” He was prodding something in the floor before trying his weight on it. “Is less than ideal. Try and remember where I put my feet and follow me up when I call. Be careful.”

“What about the donkey?”

“Pay out the rope, and we'll pull it up together. They have much better instincts about this kind of thing than we do. If worst comes to it we lift up the goods and let it go. It'll make it's own way back on it's own accord. The journey back will be easier as there'll be much less to carry.”

“Fair enough.”

As it happened though the donkey followed me up almost of it's own accord.

We were standing in a square room, there were sacks and crates stood up against the walls.

“Those fresh?” I said pointing at them. They don't look as though they've been here for a hundred years.”

“They haven't. Supply boxes. Mostly hay and things, some blankets. Non-perishable things that people bring here and then can't be bothered to take back with them.”

He went to a door, opened it and led the way through into a large cavernous room. There were torches on the wall that he lit as we went.

We were in the Kitchens.

Large stone slabs ran up and down the length of the room, huge ovens at one end with equally huge pits for the fuel and the fire to be built up into. Bowls, knives and various pieces of cooking equipment were there as well. All old and dusty.

Kerrass was leading us over to one of the ovens. There was a circle of small stones there with a good stock of stacked logs nearby.

“This is base camp.” He told me. “Whenever people come to the castle, which is not as many nowadays. They are told of this place. It's safe, well ventilated and you aren't going to fall into any vines if you just roll over in your sleep. You leave firewood there for when you leave so that the next person can come by and doesn't have to struggle to get themselves started.”

He showed me where to tie up the donkey and where I could find hay and oats for him to eat. He set about unpacking our belongings, the firewood that we had brought in as well as laying out blankets and setting out the snares and things for protecting us from wandering spirits. He might have said that the place was safe but he wasn't taking any chances.

“Why do people not come here any more?”

“Because it's mostly tapped out. There isn't anything of value to be found in the castle. No gold, jewels or any other treasures here other than her and books, furniture and things. Nothing that any real fence would look twice at and so people don't bother. If people want treasure of that sort then they head to the outskirts, to the border forts or to the guest houses. Or the often fruitless search for the gold mines that were said to feed the nations coffers and keep them wealthy.

“There was a bit of a rush into these parts during the few years when they commonly thought that the hundred years was up as people competed to be the one to wake her up but that was twenty years ago now. Now people come here for one reason really.”

“Her,”

Kerrass nodded. I got the sense he was procrastinating.

“Still the last people who were supposed to come here to see her came out a few weeks ago so we should have the place to ourselves.”

“Good,”

He was staring into a point of air, maybe a foot off the ground.

“You ready?” I asked him.

He grinned suddenly. “You're asking me that? I'm the one that knows what's coming.”

“That's as maybe. But you look like I'm about to take you off to be hanged.”

“In which case can I have some water?”

I fetched it for him and he took some long swallows from the bag.

“Right then.” He sort of squared himself up, “You can go wandering if you want. I'll try and come to get you before night falls but just in case...”

“Just in case what,” his words had petered out.

“Just in case I get... side-tracked. If the spirits start appearing and I'm not there to help you get back. Then you get back here as quick as you can. I would much rather you gather the books, or papers you want and bring them back here to study all night than to have to come looking for you. Understand?”

“Yes Kerrass. You've told me about this several times now.” I tried to be gentle. Honest to Flame he looked nervous.

“Right, ok. Could you pass me that satchel?” He gestured to the strange extra bag that he had tied onto the donkey at the beginning of the journey. It was surprisingly light given it's bulk. Light and soft. Kerrass hefted it and slung it over his left shoulder. “You got your spectre oil?” he asked me. I waved the relevant bottle in front of his eyes. It was a bit lost on him that I had already got it ready before he asked.

He nodded and then strode off without a word.

We had transferred to lanterns at my insistence to avoid the danger of setting some things on fire. We walked carefully through the doors to the kitchen and up a flight of stairs which groaned under our feet. Kerrass looked unconcerned though so I took that as a good sign. At the top of the stairs we came to a plain landing.

There were a series of labels on the wall that suggested that this was some kind of servant's hall. The labels were written in old elven and spoke about various bedrooms and other rooms around the vast building.

Kerrass chose one of the doors and opened it with a bit of a tug.

The room that he led us into had the look of a guard room. Old, battered looking bits of armour stood in carious parts of the room against rotting armour stands and sword racks. I examined a sword on one of the racks as we walked past. It looked as though it was being held together by rust and cobwebs. I didn't try to pick it up.

Kerrass led us through that room into a long hall, much wider and grander looking. There was a large staircase off to one side, bannister rails lay scattered off to various sides, looking as though they had been deliberately torn off.

“I'm told that they once had gold leaf on them.” Kerrass said when I asked. “So a set of industrious scavengers proceeded to peel the gold off in an effort to make some money.”

“Did they?”

Kerrass shrugged and moved on.

He walked up to a large pair of doors and rested his hands on them. But then he stopped and closed his eyes.

“You alright?” I asked him after he hadn't moved for several seconds.

“Goddess no. No I'm not.”

It's not often that I hear Kerrass pray.

He seemed to find his courage from somewhere and he thrust the doors open with a shove. They were in relatively good working order if a little stiff at first and they opened out onto the great hall.

It must have been an incredible place in it's heyday. Long tables had been thrown aside but you could still see the delicate scroll work as part of the architecture. It was as though someone with far too much money had told an architect, carver and set of stonemasons. “Build me something beautiful.”

It was beautiful. It still was, even in it's shabby state.

Ivy had crept in from somewhere and had started to carpet the floor. I pushed some aside with my boot so that I could see the floor which was covered with tiny little bits of tile. I guessed that the mosaic would be huge, fitted to the room.

It was a breathtaking display of wealth. Even despite it's disrepair.

At the head of the hall was the centrepiece and reason for our being there.

A large, wooden coffin at the top of a dais. It lay at the foot of two chairs that could only be thrones. Kerrass led me up to the top and I climbed up the stairs to where the coffin lay.

Kerrass got there first and groaned.

“Bastards,” he muttered but he seemed resigned. Disappointed maybe. I looked in.

She was naked. Bits of tattered cloth lay about her and she lay, hair dishevelled, limbs askew with one hand and a foot hanging over the edge of the coffin. She was positioned like a drunk having collapsed somewhere. Or a corpse, still laying where they had fallen.

“Bastards,” Kerrass said again. “Every time I come here the villagers try to hide it from me. But every time I come here and see how she's been disturbed. Bastards.”

He knelt next to the coffin.

My mouth was hanging open.

She looked so peaceful. It was like looking at a statue.

I realise that I haven't described her. But how does a person describe physical beauty.

Beauty is subjective. It is true that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I am lucky in that I have been surrounded by beautiful women but this was something else entirely. The closest in comparison would be...I think I would describe her as being a lot like those portraits of the soon to be Empress Cirilla. Only imagine her without the scar and with Blonde, golden hair. Another comparison might be those portraits that I have seen of the Sorceress Keira Metz only younger and more innocent in appearance.

I'm really struggling with this. I genuinely don't know how to describe this woman. She was beautiful. But even that was wide of the mark. She was beauty. Personified into a solid form. She was... breathtaking but unlike some of the haughty beauties that you might see at court, there was a softness to her that...

For someone who makes their living by writing I'm doing this really badly.

Looking at her for the first time, asleep as she was. I felt like I had been struck about the face and body with a weapon. But as it struck, the weapon turned into a warm fuzzy blanket that wrapped me up, body and brain so that I was all but incapable of thinking.

She was like, a warm bed, next to a lit log fire when the frost is creeping round the window and you don't have to get out of bed. She was like a sunrise on a cool crisp spring morning at home.

She was like church bells on a still morning. Birds singing next to a stream.

She was so beautiful that it was difficult to think. To breathe.

When I had thought of her as “Sleeping Beauty” I had also thought of her as being like, a still statue, or corpse but she wasn't. She was asleep. She looked as though she could wake up at any moment.

She looked cold and was covered in goose-flesh.

At some point I had fallen to my knees. Kerrass was sat next to her. His face was painful to look at.

“Oh Kerrass.” I heard myself say. “I am so, so sorry.”

Kerrass looked up at me and held my gaze for a moment. I think he was looking for something in my face then, just for a moment. I realised that he had his left hand on his sword strap in the old signal to say that he was ready to draw steel. But instead he relaxed and nodded.

“Give me a hand.” He pulled around the leather bag.

From it he took a long blue cotton dress, a pair of socks and slippers, the kind that you might wear to bed. He also took out a hairbrush, a blanket and a pillow.

“What do you need me to do?”

I swallowed and sniffed, realising that I was on the edge of tears.

“I'll tell you. Don't worry.” He spoke gently, quietly. The way that you might speak in church.

Working together and under Kerrass' direction, we dressed her in the clothes that Kerrass brought. With astonishing care and gentleness he brushed her hair and tied it back for her and arranged her properly in the coffin. Then he gently placed the pillow under her head and gently tucked the blanket round her.

Then Kerrass rooted around in his bag again and produced a stuffed animal toy. Which he tucked into the blanket next to her.

“Her bedroom was full of the things,” He said. “I don't know if she likes them or not any more given that she was sixteen. But I normally try to pick one up when I know I'm on my way back. She would have a nice collection from me by now. Toys from all over the continent.”

“Where's that one from?”

“Novigrad. There's a dwarf there that makes them.” I nodded.

We stood together at the foot of the coffin looking down at her.

“She looks so... peaceful. So small and delicate.” I breathed the words. Again, I don't know why I spoke in those hushed tones.

Kerrass nodded in response. “Thank you Freddie.”

“What for?”

“For so many things. For reacting the way you did when you saw her. For helping me.”

I nodded.

“Damn me but she is beautiful.” Kerrass said.

I couldn't help but agree.