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"
And
you
only
use
a
broom
for
flying
,
do
n't
you
?
Pathetic
wizard
!
"
"
You
're
stupid
!
"
"
Stupid
yourself
!
"
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"
No
,
I
'm
not
!
"
"
Yes
,
you
are
!
Come
on
,
Iola
,
do
n't
pay
any
attention
to
her
.
Sorceresses
are
not
our
sort
of
company
.
"
"
Of
course
they
are
n't
!
"
yelled
Ciri
and
threw
the
basket
of
grain
on
the
ground
.
"
Chickens
are
your
sort
of
company
!
"
The
novices
turned
up
their
noses
and
left
,
passing
through
the
hoard
of
cackling
fowl
.
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Ciri
cursed
loudly
,
repeating
a
favourite
saying
of
Vesemir
's
which
she
did
not
entirely
understand
.
Then
she
added
a
few
words
she
had
heard
Yarpen
Zigrin
use
,
the
meanings
of
which
were
a
total
mystery
to
her
.
With
a
kick
,
she
dispersed
the
chickens
swarming
towards
the
scattered
grain
,
picked
up
the
basket
,
turned
it
upside
down
,
then
twirled
in
a
witcher
's
pirouette
and
threw
the
basket
like
a
discus
over
the
reed
roof
of
the
henhouse
.
She
turned
on
her
heel
and
set
off
through
the
Temple
park
at
a
run
.
She
ran
lightly
,
skilfully
controlling
her
breath
.
At
every
other
tree
she
passed
,
she
made
an
agile
half-turn
leap
,
marking
slashes
with
an
imaginary
sword
and
immediately
following
them
with
dodges
and
feints
she
had
learned
.
She
jumped
deftly
over
the
fence
,
landing
surely
and
softly
on
bent
knees
.