Chapter 23

                                    

                                          
Crow was a good bird. A pretty and loyal bird. Crow saw women come. Crow saw women go. Lady was sad. But, then Lady was glad. Entrails crow got. Sweets crow got. Lady said a guest comes. So now crow waits as Lady told.
                          
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Avallac'h passed through the last portal. The series of teleportations had fatigued him, yet he had no desire to rest.
                          
Here of all places, the sage thought as he pulled his boot out of the swamp sludge and shook off the muck. The sun had almost reached its zenith -a time at which certain spells were ideal for casting made even more so due to the transition of seasons – signaling it was the end of Imbolc meaning Birke was nigh. He would gather his strength and wait till then to cast his spell.
                          
Avallac'h took in his surroundings; a motley tangle of marsh shrubs, scattered leaveless trees, and a single crow perched on a small boulder not three strides in front of him.
                          
The sides of his mouth curled up as he inclined his head as if to pay respect to the creature. The crow cocked its head mechanically, pecked twice at the stone below his feet, and with a few simple flaps of its wings alighted into the air.
                          
The elf moved slowly after the bird carefully navigating the sludge-filled trenches of the bog. The crow frequently circled back so as to accommodate the sage's purposefully dilatory pace.
                          
The bog was a true example of polar opposites working in harmonious tandem. Death and life entwined together in an eternal dance. The ericaceous shrubs, which provided a dietary staple to the resident avians, rooted themselves down in the sphagnum mosses and peat and from it drew their nutrients. Insects that ravenously feasted on any and all dead carcasses were kept at bay by the occasional pitcher plant that dotted the terrain. Every thing was eating and being eaten. Avallac'h appreciated such a balance even though it was not a terrain in which he wished to stay long.
                          
He approached a circle of shoddy huts and shanties surrounding a single ritualistic stone next to which the crone was waiting.
                          
Weavess seemed to grovel like a pup submitting to the alpha of a wolf pack as Avallac'h approached.
                          
"Great sage. Wise sage. We saw your arrival in the entrails. Your presence honors us."
                          
He looked at her impassively. The crone continued to snivel and whimper. He knew she feared him and he would use that to his advantage.
                          
"'Twas not our fault your brethren was murdered. The white-haired one. The wolf. Came in rage he did. On the sabbath. Nggg. Nnnnggg."
                          
Her twitching increased and it was apparent the topic agitated her.
                          
"Nnngg. SHE did it. That little whore -that accursed blood killed my sisters!"
                          
Avallac'h feared the worse. Perhaps Ciri had come out of some peculiar need to finish what she started. He mightn't have been so afraid were Zirael standing in front of him and not this ancient creature. He glanced at the sky taking note of the sun's position.
                          
The crone clenched and jerked her fist as if to compose herself.
                          
"'Twas not could be done to help your general. Imlerith, the poor dear. But help you I will. Ngggg."
                          
Avallac'h remained quiet, face unchanged and unflinching. His leering aquamarine eyes said all that he needed.
                          
"Great sage. Wise sage. I dared not try and catch her. I was afeard."
                          
Avallac'h was a patient man and his patience, like it did today, rewarded him. For what reason Zirael had come here he planned to find out, yet what was certain was that she been here and that she left, most likely unharmed.