"It's a pity Mother Nanik and Yennefer both refuse to let me wear a sword at my side. On that point at least they don't argue. They both say: any fool can swing a sword, but if you really want to be formidable, you need a sharp mind..."
"Geralt, you promised me you'd come. So come."
"— Yours, Ciri."
"P.S.: Come. You said you could find Lann and bring him too, right? All of you come!"
"P.P.S.: Mother Nanik told me to write at the end: praise great Meritelli, may her blessing and grace be always with you."
Unconsciously, Lann, who had originally meant to just skim through it—a letter he really could have skimmed and remembered every word—
found himself reading much more slowly.
Fingers encased in hard, menacing hand armor lifted the pages with a delicacy and gentleness as he turned to the next sheet.
The teasing, spectator's smile at the corner of his mouth turned mild, almost tranquil.
"Careless and scatterbrained, then trying to make up for it all in one breath."
