Thaler's men—agents of the King's Eyes—reached Victor's home quickly. They took up positions nearby, preparing to track Angoulême the moment she returned, certain she'd walk straight into a net with no gaps.
No one noticed that the hawk, Catherine, seemed to hear something. She burst out through a second-floor window, shot up into the sky, and vanished into the heights.
…
Deep in the Vivaldi Bank vault, Yaevinn of the Scoia'tael supervised his people as they hauled sack after sack of gold coins down into the sewer.
One of his men came over, uneasy. "What now? They caught ***—and now they're claiming they've caught Victor too. Will they uncover our secret?"
The black-haired elf narrowed his long eyes. "Ignore whatever they say. Pretending we don't know Victor is the greatest help we can give him." Then he raised his voice slightly. "Everyone, start pulling out of the vault. Fall back into the sewers."
The man hesitated. "But *** is still in human hands. We're not going to trade hostages for him?"
"Disobey orders, get provoked, rush in and drag your brothers to their deaths—if he comes back alive, I'll cut his head off myself. He's better off dying in human hands."
"But sir… he's your brother."
"I don't have a brother. My two brothers are already dead."
…
In a private room inside the temporary command post, the furnishings weren't as ornate as the main hall, but this was still a building in the Trade Quarter—comfortable, clean, and warm. Victor sat at the table, eating pastries and drinking milk.
Six of Thaler's men stood around him in full kit, crossbows cocked and hands on their sword hilts. Two Lily Knights were also stationed at the door—Princess Adda's "protectors," assigned to keep him safe.
The door opened.
Thaler walked in, Victor's herbal satchel in hand, and came closer. "Can we talk?"
"If I say no, would you leave?"
Thaler shook his head, pulled out a chair, and sat down. He produced a bottle from inside his coat and poured himself a full cup—then casually filled one for Victor too, before tossing back more than half his own in one swallow.
"Well done," he said, eyes bright. "I haven't been humiliated like this in a long time. I also haven't been this excited in a long time. The thought of digging up every last one of your dark little secrets—of seeing you on your knees, begging me to spare you—fills me with joy."
Victor grabbed another pastry and stuffed it into his mouth, chewing like a man who'd missed breakfast. He took a loud gulp of milk to help it go down.
Thaler frowned at the utter lack of concern. "Yaevinn says he doesn't know you. And that Scoia'tael we caught—aside from not denying you're an accomplice—won't say anything else.
"It reminds me of the first time he saw you. He used the word 'betrayal.' But to betray something, you have to have something to sell.
"They're trapped in the bank. The city guard has the place sealed tight. They can only negotiate with us. So what is there left to 'sell'?
"Which means the Scoia'tael still have a trump card—something we haven't even considered yet. The fact they appeared inside the bank already surprised me. I don't need more surprises.
"If you're willing to give me a hint, I can consider only hanging you."
"Only hanging me?" Victor said. "The way you say it, that's supposed to be a reward?"
"Yes," Thaler said mildly. "A reward.
"One of the few good things war ever gave me is that I picked up a few techniques from Nilfgaard. Officially I can't use them. Unofficially… we can shave down every protruding part of your body, sear it shut with a hot iron to stop the bleeding, then hang you on iron hooks and let you dry slowly—like smoked meat."
Victor finished his cup of milk at an unhurried pace. He noticed both Lily Knights looked openly unimpressed. This kind of brutality clearly wasn't Temeria's standard practice—more like Thaler's personal intimidation. And it wasn't enough to frighten Victor anyway.
Seeing that the young man's expression still hadn't changed, Thaler nodded. "Impressive nerves. But the specialist I sent for will be here soon. Your little trick won't hide you then."
…
There was a click, and the door opened again.
Victor had his back to it, but the familiar scent of rosemary hit him immediately. He wasn't surprised at all.
Thaler stood to greet her. "Welcome, Lady Keira."
The sorceress stepped in with a feline grace, her perfume drifting past Victor as she reached out and took the satchel from Thaler's hand. "So this is the herbal bag you claim absolutely contains secrets, yet you can't detect any magic on it?"
As she spoke, Keira held Victor's gaze.
Victor met her eyes without flinching. His mood felt like the last day at a job he was quitting—an almost reckless calm, the kind that says: do whatever you want, I'm done playing along. Besides, if they met again, all this careful pretense would probably be useless anyway.
Thaler answered with certainty. "Advisor, I watched him with my own eyes. He put a coded letter into the bag—and after that, it vanished."
Keira nodded. Violet magic shimmered around her, and ripples of power spread outward in rings, filling the room. Victor's Wolf School medallion suddenly began to vibrate faster and faster.
It didn't last long. When the ripples faded and the vibration eased, Keira looked at Thaler with confusion. "Are the King's Eyes going blind? This is just an ordinary herbal satchel."
"That's impossible," Thaler snapped. "Isn't there any other way to hide something?"
"If there's a physical trick, you people are better at searching than I am," Keira said coolly. "As for magic: my scan passed over him. He isn't a spellcaster, and there are no traces of magical equipment on him." Then she added with a teasing smile, "Unless you're so lovesick you've started hallucinating things that aren't there."
"I saw it," Thaler said, flat and stubborn. "And I'd say the same thing in front of the king."
Keira rolled her eyes. Her power surged—and the satchel in her hand ignited instantly. In the next breath it crumbled into ash.
"If you care that much, now there's nothing left to care about. Get him a new one."
Thaler had wanted Keira Metz to uncover the secret. He hadn't expected her to be so capricious that she'd destroy what might have been evidence.
The King's Eyes let out a long sigh. "Excuse me. I have other matters to attend to." And he walked out without looking back.
Keira turned to the guards. "You all, wait outside. I have something to discuss with him alone."
The six of Thaler's men and the two Lily Knights exchanged looks, then filed out without much hesitation.
Magic shifted in the room. The chair Thaler had sat on gained a plush, luxurious cushion, as if it had always been meant to be there. Keira sat down and said, sounding more tired than angry, "Why are witchers always such trouble? You talk about neutrality, and then you wade into things you have no business being involved in—again and again."
Her tone was gentle. Almost soft.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Victor said. He had never once forgotten the lesson: confessing is generous, resisting is severe.
Keira gave him an irritated look. "Before I came here, I went to see that elf. His mind is a mess, and after the 'questioning' they gave him, he can't block a thought-probe at all. Everything in his head was transparent to me.
"I know what you've been doing—those 'good deeds' of yours. Honestly, it's nothing I can't overlook. I can pretend I never learned any of it.
"All you have to do is ask for mercy. If you do, I won't expose you. How about it?"
As she finished, Keira leaned forward, placed her elbows on the table, propped her chin on both hands, narrowed her eyes, and waited for Victor's answer.
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