The day after the greenhouse conversation, Victor was busy in the alchemy laboratory, slicing up camouflage mushrooms. This kind of fungus was harvested from a dark corner of the greenhouse—its gray cap made it easy to mistake for a chunk of stone. According to old texts, it could ease chest pain.
A soft knock sounded at the door. It was Priestess Iola. She made several hand signs, as if trying to convey something more complicated, but Victor couldn't understand them. All he could do was set his work aside and follow her.
When he stepped into the side chapel he'd visited a few days ago, Grandmother Nenneke was seated in her throne-like oak armchair. She beckoned him over with a kindly gesture. At the same time, Victor noticed something discordant in the room—roughly one and three-quarters armored knights.
"Come… child. Come meet these two 'noble' gentlemen," the priestess said, sounding almost absentminded. The stressed 'noble' didn't sound noble at all. "They serve the most magnanimous Duke Hereward. They claim they have something important to inform you of."
Victor gave a casual little bow while studying the visitors.
One was a tall, imposing human—unfortunately marked by a long scar across his face—fully armored, draped in a crimson cloak, with a white rose crest on his pauldron. He stood slightly forward, clearly the one meant to do the talking.
The other was a stout, muscular dwarf with a full beard, wearing a fox-fur-trimmed coat over ring mail. Arms crossed, he stood to the side. He'd come together with the human, yet still held himself apart, maintaining an obvious independence.
"Victor of Bell Town, east of Zerrikania," Victor said evenly. "May I ask the names of these two gentlemen? And is there anything I can do for you?"
The white rose knight didn't return Victor's bow. "I am Tailles of Dorndal, a knight of the Order of the White Rose, in the service of Prince Hereward." He didn't look at Victor as he spoke. Instead, he stared at the priestess, putting particular emphasis on the word prince.
So. Blind obedience to authority, intoxicated by titles, desperate to cling to the upper class… maybe the son of a moneylender, or a tailor?
Perhaps Victor's sharp, silent mockery somehow reached the knight over some mysterious wavelength, because Tailles finally turned his head toward the witcher apprentice. His pale blue eyes were full of undisguised hatred as he continued, "And beside me is—"
"Hold," the dwarf cut in, stepping forward. His voice was hoarse and flat. "I'll introduce myself." He looked at Victor with ash-gray eyes that weren't friendly, but carried no malice either beneath his brush-like brows. "I'm Dennis Cranmer, captain of Prince Hereward's guards."
Once he'd said his piece, he retreated back to his spot as though none of this concerned him at all, letting out a broad yawn and resuming his arms-crossed stance.
"A pleasure to meet you both," Victor said, offering another shallow, careless bow.
"There's nothing pleasurable about it," Grandmother Nenneke said calmly. "They didn't come to pay respects. In fact, they came to demand you leave quickly. They came to drive you out. I'd call that an insult. Wouldn't you?"
"I don't think the knight needs to worry," Victor shrugged. "I have no intention of settling here. You won't need to urge me—I'll be leaving on my own before long.
"As for how long I stay, that depends on the venerable Archpriestess of Melitele—Lady Nenneke—and how long she permits me to remain."
Tailles exploded, "Get out! I—Tailles—on behalf of the lord of Ellander, Prince Hereward, order you to leave his lands at once—"
Crack.
An iron paperweight slammed into his face, leaving a clear red mark. Nenneke's voice went cold, heavy with authority. "In this temple, I'm the only one who gives orders, you mongrel. Who gave you the nerve to bark in here?"
Tailles' features twisted with rage, but he still shut his mouth and didn't dare argue with Nenneke. He only glared at the witcher apprentice with such venom that Victor found himself considering Angoulême's suggestion after all. He didn't like the feeling of someone wanting to hurt him.
"Forgive me, Lady Nenneke," the knight said as he turned back to the priestess, each word seeming to squeeze out between clenched teeth, "but Prince Hereward cannot allow witchers on his land—whether they come for personal matters or to hunt monsters."
"Very good," Nenneke said coolly. "After all these years, you've finally learned to swallow your anger and tell a lie not even a wraith would believe. I'm delighted the child I delivered managed to grow this far. Your mother would be proud.
"Now listen carefully—this is not Ellander." Her tone allowed no argument. "This is the Temple of Melitele. And I, Nenneke, high priestess of Melitele, permit him to stay as long as he likes. There is no limit."
At her declaration, Tailles' hand moved to his sword hilt on instinct—but Dennis Cranmer stepped in first and clamped a hand down over the knight's.
"What are you doing?" Tailles snapped, unable to lash out at the priestess, so he poured it onto the dwarf instead. "Have you forgotten the prince's orders?"
Cranmer replied, indifferent, "Don't teach me my duty. When I swore to the prince, you were still sucking milk somewhere. I follow the prince's orders, and I won't get a single word wrong.
"The prince told me to accompany you—so you don't get hurt. So I'm stopping you from doing something that'll get you hurt."
Then, without trying to address the priestess, he turned to Victor. "Listen, witcher—hiding under a woman's skirt for protection. Don't you feel ashamed? Why not do everyone a favor and leave? End these pointless arguments, and spare this respectable lady the headache."
"That's a fascinating suggestion, Captain Cranmer," Victor said with a bright, mocking smile. "Honestly, it's almost intoxicating. You're trying to provoke me—me, a witcher apprentice—by dangling 'knightly honor,' and lure a young man into whatever trap you've laid in the woods, beat him, and drive him out—if I'm understanding you correctly."
Cranmer's steel-gray eyes held no sympathy. "No one would die."
That reply made Victor's smile widen, sunlight-bright on an otherwise unremarkable face. "Well, well, well. Fine. Respected Captain Cranmer—let's end this dispute. I don't want trouble, but it's not as if you truly care."
At that, Grandmother Nenneke frowned, about to speak.
"No, Lady Nenneke," Victor said firmly. "Please—say nothing. I've decided. Thank you for your promise, for allowing me to stay as long as I wished, but I cannot abuse your kindness." He bowed to her.
"I'll leave within thirty days. Thirty days. I won't ask for more."
And then Victor added a line that made Tailles look as if he'd swallowed something rotten, drew a sharp laugh from the archpriestess, and left the dwarf captain staring for a long, thoughtful stretch.
Plainly, this young man didn't care in the slightest about the so-called authority Tailles wrapped himself in.
"You all heard him," Nenneke said before the two visitors could react. "You both heard him. This witcher apprentice will stay here thirty more days. That is his wish.
"And I, priestess of great Melitele, will be his host for thirty more days. That is my wish. You may take those words back to Hereward himself.
"No—forget it. I'll write a letter to the 'noble' Ermellia personally, to remind her that her husband ought to keep an eye on the mad dogs he feeds—before they start snapping at anything in sight."
Then Grandmother Nenneke waved her hand like she was shooing flies. "Since everything that needed to be said has been said, leave. My temple does not welcome you."
…
Furious beyond restraint, Tailles still bowed to the priestess in the end and left, his armor clattering with every step.
Because inside this temple, there was nothing he could do. And if he did anything—then before dusk, he and the soldiers he'd brought would be hanging from the row of black locust trees by the road outside the city gate, strung up by an enraged crowd.
Melitele above.