The Witcher - PART One.

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(C) Andrzej Sapkowski. "Wiedzmin" m. "Fantastyka" No.12, 1986.
                                                Warsaw.
(R) translated from Polish by Evgeniy Weisbrot, 1993.
(W) in Word I typed all this manually Mentat, 07/02/97.

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                │ Andrzej Sapkowski, 1986 │
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                        PART ONE.

   Afterwards they said that he came from the north, from
The rope gate, on foot, and led the pack horse by the bridle.
Evening was falling, and the shops of ropemakers and saddlers had already closed, and
the street was empty.  It was warm, but the traveler was wearing a black cloak,
draped over the shoulders. He aroused interest among rare passers-by.
   The traveler stopped in front of the "Old Hell" inn,
stood for a while, listening to the roar of voices.  Tavern at
The visiting yard was, as always at this time, full of people.
   The stranger did not enter the "Oldthe underworld" and led the horse
further, to a smaller tavern, which was called “Under the Fox”. Here
it was empty, the tavern did not have the best reputation.
   The innkeeper raised his head from the barrel of pickled cucumbers and measured
guest's gaze.  The stranger, still wearing his hat, stood in front of the counter
firmly, motionless and silent.
   - What to submit?
   “Beer,” said the stranger. The voice was unpleasant.
   The innkeeper wiped his hands on a linen apron and filled the cracked
clay mug.
   The stranger was not old, but his hair was almost completely grey.
Underneath his raincoat he wore a battered leather jacket with laces
throat and shoulders. When he threw off his cloak, it became clear that he was
He has a sword hanging from his belt behind his back. This surprised no one,
Almost everyone in Vizima carried weapons, although no one had a sword on their back
wore it, it's not a bow.
   The stranger did not sit down at the table where a few
honored guests, but continued to stand at the counter, exchanging
the innkeeper with attentive glances and sipping beer from a mug.
   - I’m looking for a hut to spend the night.
   “No,” muttered the innkeeper, looking at the guest’s shoes, covered in dust.
and dirty. - Ask in the "Old Hell."
   - I'd like to be here.
   “No,” the innkeeper finally realized from his reprimand that in front of him
Rivan.
   “I’ll pay,” the stranger said quietly, somehow hesitantly.
   It was then that this disgusting story began. Pockmarked
big guy who didn't let go of the travelergloomy look from the moment of his
appeared, stood up and walked to the counter. His two friends stood up
two steps behind.
   “Well, there are no places, you slacker, Riva tramp,” said
pockmarked - We don't need people like that here. Vizima is a decent city!
   The stranger took his mug and moved away.  Looked at
the innkeeper, but he averted his eyes. He had no intention of defending the Rivian.
And who loves the Rivans?
   “You have a thief on a thief there, in Rivia,” continued the pockmarked man, from
which reeked of beer, garlic and anger. - Hear what I say,
brat!
   - Look, he doesn’t hear!  “Your ears are full of shit,” one of them said.
standing behind, and the second laughed.
   “Pay and get exhausted,” the pockmarked man barked.
   The stranger only now looked at him.
   - I'll finish my beer.
   “We’ll help you,” hissed the big guy.
   He knocked the Rivian's mug out and, grabbing his hand with one
hand, dug the fingers of the other into the belt, diagonally crossing
stranger's chest.  One of those standing behind swung, preparing to
strike. The stranger turned around on the spot. The sword whistled in its scabbard
and flashed briefly in the light of the lamps. A scuffle and screaming began.
Some of the visitors rushed to the exit. The heavy one fell with a crash
table, clay mugs thudded on the floor. Korchmar - lips
they shook him - he looked at the monstrously chopped face of the pockmarked one:
clutching the edge of the counter with his hands, he sank and disappeared from sight,
as if he was drowning. Two of his friendslay on the floor, one motionless,
the second wriggled and twitched in the rapidly spreading dark puddle.
A thin, heart-rending cry trembled in the air, screwing into my ears.
women.  The innkeeper shook, gasping for breath like a fish
mouth, and he began to vomit.
   The stranger retreated to the wall. Collected, sensitive. The sword he held
with both hands, moving the tip through the air. Nobody moved.
Fear, like cold mud, stuck to their faces, tied their limbs, shut them up
throats.
   Three guards burst into the tavern with noise and the clanging of armor.
Apparently they were passing nearby.  The clubs wrapped in belts were
ready, but at the sight of the corpses they immediately drew their swords. Rivian
pressed his back against the wall, with his left hand he pulled it out from behind his boot
dagger
   - Drop it! - one of the guards shouted in a rattling voice.
- Stop it, bandit! Come with us.
   The second guard kicked the chair that prevented him from approaching the Rivian from the side.
   - Run after people, Cod! - he shouted to the third, who was holding
closer to the door.
   “No need,” said the stranger, lowering his sword. - I'll go myself.
   - You’ll go, bitch udder, only on a rope!  - he barked
whose voice rattled. - Drop the sword, otherwise I’ll break your head!
   The Rivan straightened up, grabbed the sword with his left hand, and with his right
quickly drew a complex sign in the air. The thorns with which
The long, elbow-length cuff of the leather jacket was tightly covered.
   The guards backed away, shielding their faces with their hands.One of the guests
jumped up, the other rushed to the door.  The woman is wild again
screamed shrilly.
   “I’ll go myself,” the acquaintance repeated in a sonorous metallic voice.
voice.  - And you three are in front. Take him to the mayor. I
I don't know the road.
   “That’s right, most respected,” he muttered, lowering his head.
the guard and, timidly looking around, moved towards the door. The other two
backing away, they hurried after. Sheathing the sword and tucking the dagger behind
boot, the stranger followed them. The visitors he passes by
passed by, covering their faces with the skirts of their jackets.

                           . . .

   Velerad, the mayor of Vizima, scratched his chin thoughtfully.
He was neither superstitious nor cowardly, but the prospect of being left with
the white-haired one did not smile at him one on one. Finally he made up his mind.
   “Get out,” he ordered the guards. - Sit down. No, not
here. Deign to sit there, further away.
   The stranger sat down. He no longer had either a sword or a black cloak.
   “I’m listening,” said Velerad, playing with a black club, lying
neck on a chair.
   - I am Velerad, ruler of Vizima. What can you say, sir-
What a robber, sir, before you go into the pit?  Three killed
an attempt to cast the evil eye, not bad at all. For such things we have
in Vizima they impale  But I'm a fair man, you first
I'll listen. Speak.
   The Rivian opened his jacket and took out a scroll made of white goatskin.
   - On the roads, in tavernsnail it down,” he said quietly.
- Is what is written here true?
   “Ah,” Velerad muttered, looking at the runes etched on the skin.
- That's it. How come I didn’t realize it right away? Well yes, it's true
the most truthful one. Signed - Foltest, king,
lord of Temeria, Ponar and Mahakam. So it’s true. But
call is call, and law is law. Here in Vizima I keep an eye on
for law and order. I won't let people make fun of me. Understood?
   The Rivian nodded. Velerad snorted angrily.
   - Do you have a Witcher sign?
   The stranger reached under the hem of his jacket and pulled out a round medallion on
silver chain.  The medallion depicted a grinning
wolf head.
   - Do you have any name? Any. I'm not asking out of love.
curiosity, but to facilitate conversation.
   - My name is Geralt.
   - Geralt is Geralt. From Rivia, as far as I understand from the pronunciation
ru?
   - From there.
   - So. So this is it, Geralt. About this, - Velerad slapped
skin with your palm - don't worry.  This is a serious matter.  Many have already
tried. This, brother, is not like calming down a couple of hungry people.
   - I know. This is my profession, city governor. It is written - three you-
thousands of orens rewards.
   “Three thousand,” Velerad pursed his lips. - And the princess as a wife, as
people are chattering, although dear Foltest did not write this.
   “I’m not interested in the princess,” Geralt said calmly. He
sat motionless, hands on knees. - Written - threethousands.
   “What a time,” the mayor breathed.  - What lousy
times!  Twenty years ago, who would have thought, even
drunk, why would there be such professions!  Witchers! Wandering Assassins
Basilisks!  Destroyers of dragons and mermen!  Eh, Geralt? B
Is your shop allowed to drink beer?
   - Quite.
   - Beer!  - Velerad clapped his hands.  - And you, Geralt, sit down
closer. What is there?
   The beer was cold and foamy.
   “Lousy times have come,” Velerad continued his monologue,
sipping from a mug. - All sorts of evil spirits have spread - it’s terrible.  In Ma-
Hakame, in the mountains, is absolutely teeming with them. There used to be wolves in the forests
howled, but now there are only ghouls, vampires wherever you spit, or a werewolf,
or some other infection. In the villages, mermaids and beggars steal children
Well, the count has already gone into the hundreds.  Illnesses I’ve never heard of before
no one, my hair is falling out. Well, and this, on top of everything else,” he pushed
scroll of leather on the table.  - It’s not surprising, Geralt, that there’s such demand.
for your services.
   “This is a royal call, mayor,” Ge raised his head.
ralt. - Do you know the details?
   Velerad leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands over his stomach.
   - Details, you say? Yes. I know. Not exactly first-hand,
but from reliable sources.
   - That's what I meant.
   - Well, stubborn!  As you wish.  Listen! - Velerad, taking a sip of beer,
lowered his voice.  - Our dear Lord Foltest, while still
prince, duringthe reign of old Medell, his father,
showed us what he was capable of, and he was capable of a lot. We
We hoped that it would go away with time. Meanwhile, soon
after the coronation, immediately after the death of the old king, Foltest
outdid himself. All of our jaws dropped.
In short, I conceived a child for my own sister, Adda.
Adda was younger than him and they always stuck together, but no one
I didn’t suspect anything, well, except maybe the queen... In short, let’s see,
and Adda has such a belly, and Foltest is talking about marriage
turns on.  With my sister, you understand, Geralt?  The situation has become
I’ll tell you, it couldn’t be worse, that’s exactly what Vizimir from Novigrad had in mind
marry off his Dalka to Foltest and sent matchmakers, but here at least
hold the king by the hands, by the feet, because he strives to drive
matchmakers together.  Well, everything worked out well, otherwise Vizimir was offended
would rip the guts out of us. Later, not without the help of Adda, who
influenced my brother, managed to persuade the snotty guy from hasty
marriage. Well, it means that Adda gave birth at the right time, but of course.
Now listen, because it begins. Of what has degenerated
almost no one saw, but one midwife jumped into
window from the tower and killed herself to death, and the second one went crazy and
still hasn't left. Cause I guess the superbastard wasn't from
handsome men.   Girl.   However, she died immediatelyno one
I think he was in no hurry to cut the umbilical cord. Adda, to yours
Fortunately, she did not survive the birth.  And then the noble Foltest in
got it wrong again. The superbastard should have been burned, or maybe how
know, bury it somewhere in a vacant lot, and not hide it in
dungeons of the palace.
   “What is there to talk about now?” Geralt raised his head. - In any
In case it was necessary to call upon one of the Initiates.
   - Do you mean those charlatans with stars on their caps? A
of course, about a dozen came running, but only later, when it became clear,
what lies in that crypt.  And what comes out of it at night. A
It didn’t start to come out right away, no! Seven years after the funeral there was peace.
And then one night, during the full moon, there was a scream in the palace, noise, crowding,
panic! What a long talk, you understand, the royal proclamation
read. The child has grown up in the tomb, and not badly, and his teeth have grown
wow!  In a word, a ghoul. It's a pity you didn't see the corpses like I did.
I think I could go around Vizima in six miles!
   Geralt was silent.
   “And then,” continued Velerad, “as I already said, Foltest
summoned a whole horde of sorcerers to us. They quarreled so much that
almost killed each other with their staffs, which must
I believe they carry it with them to scare away dogs if anyone
incites.  And I think they are constantly inciting them. I'm sorry
Geralt, if you have a different opinion about wizards, in your workshop
probably like that tooYes, but for me they are parasites and fools.
You, witchers, sorry - witches, inspire more trust in people.
In any case, you are - how to put it - specific, businesslike.
   Geralt smiled without answering.
   “But closer to the point,” the mayor looked into the mug and poured
beer for yourself and the Rivan. - Some councils of sorcerers introduced themselves
quite intelligent. One suggested burning the ghoul along with the palace
and a sarcophagus, another advised cutting off her head with a spade,
Talians were supporters of aspen stakes, which should be driven into
to different parts of the body, of course, during the day, when the she-devil sleeps in
to the coffin, tired of the night's pleasures. Alas, there was one jester in the sharp
pack on a bald skull, a hunchbacked hermit, who declared that this was
enchantment, and therefore they can be removed, and the ghoul will become Foltest’s
my daughter is as cute as a picture. You just have to sit in the glass
not all night - and order! And then - imagine, Geralt,
what a fool he was! - He went to the palace for the whole night.
As you can easily guess, not much remains of it, it seems
just a cap and a staff.  But Foltest latched on to this idea like a re-
drink in the dog's tail. He didn’t allow me to kill my striga, but from everyone
possible corners of the state invited charlatans to Vizima so that
They re-enchanted the ghoul into a princess.  There was a bunch of people! Miracle !
Colorful!  Some bad women, some lame, dirty,
lice, alreadyI took pity.  Well, let's do some magic, basically.
over a bowl and mug.  True, some Foltest, not without help
Council, exposed, some were hanged for warning in the stockade
le, but not enough, not enough. I would hang everyone, every single one.
But the fact that the ghoul from time to time killed one of the
I think there is no need to explain the deceivers, who don’t give a damn about their manipulations.
As well as the fact that Foltest did not live in his palace and no one at all
didn't.
   Velerad fell silent and took a sip of beer. The Sage was also silent.
   - So it goes, Geralt, for six years already, because IT is growing -
happened about fourteen years ago.  Of course we had
and other worries, because Vizimir and I from Novigra had a fight
yes, but the reasons were quite worthy and understandable, for we were talking about
about moving the border pillars, and not about some kind of
daughter or family ties. Foltest, by the way, is already starting to...
talk about marriage and look at the messages sent by neighbors
ramie portraits that he used to throw in the trash.
But sometimes he seems to come to his senses and begins to send out messages
tsov in search of new sorcerers. Well, he offered a reward of three thousand.
Of course, several crazy knights immediately came running,
rey, even one peasant, a cretin, known throughout the area, yes
May he rest in peace.  And the ghoul is all grass.  Just for an hour
he will take and kill someone. You can get used to it.And from the hero-
ev who are trying to disenchant her, at least some benefit: press
The monster of meat rushes and does not wander further than the old palace.  And Fol-
The new test is quite decent.
   “Six years,” Geralt raised his head, “in six years no one
didn't do anything?
   “No,” Velerad looked shrewdly at the sorcerer.  - Rather
There’s nothing you can do about it, you’ll have to come to terms with it. I have
in view of Foltest, our gracious and beloved monarch, that
still nailing his proclamations at forks in the road.  Only
The number of hunters has greatly diminished. Recently, however, there was one, so
he wished to receive the promised three thousand in advance. Well,
we put him in a bag and threw him into the lake.
   - Hmmm, yes, there are enough crooks.
   “Yeah, that’s enough, and even more than that,” assented the mayor,
without taking his eyes off the sorcerer. - Therefore, my advice to you: when you go
to the palace, do not demand gold in advance.  If, of course, you understand at all
you're talking.
   - I'll go.
   - Well, it's your business.  Just don't forget my advice.  As for
awards, then recently there has been talk about the second part -
I told you: a princess to marry.  I don't know who came up with this, but
if the ghoul looks like they say, then it's a joke
quite sad. Nevertheless, those who want to get into relatives
it was enough for the king.  Specifically, two shoe linings
loss. Listen, why are shoemakers so stupid, Geralt? A?
   - Don't know. Asorcerers, city governor, tried?
   - There were some, but of course.  But usually, having learned that the ghoul needs
disenchant, and not finish off, they shrugged their shoulders and left for their
Yassi. This is where my respect for your brother basically comes from, because...
makam, sorry for the word, Geralt.  It just came out.  Well then
came alone, younger than you, I don’t remember his name, maybe he didn’t mention
shaft This one tried.
   - So?
   - Well, the toothy princess unwound his intestines halfway -
flight of arrows.
   Geralt shook his head.
   - What, that's it?
   - There was another one.
   Velerad was silent for a long time. The Sage was in no hurry.
   “Yes,” the mayor finally said. - That means he was. Sleep-
began when Foltest threatened him with the gallows if he killed
or cripple the ghoul, he just laughed and began to pack
little things. But then...
   Velerad lowered his voice almost to a whisper and leaned over the table.
   - Then I finally took it. You see, Geralt, we have in you-
winter, several smart people, some even in high ranks, who
This whole story made me cry. According to rumors, these people quietly convinced...
poppy discard all ceremonies and magic, take it and enjoy it -
tell the ghoul and tell the king that the spell didn’t work,
the girl fell down the stairs, well, in general, it was an accident
work. The king, of course, will be angry, but it will all end with
will not pay your colleague one oren of the promised amount.  Rogue-
the witcher responded to this: they say,for nothing, they say, you can go to the ghouls yourself -
new hunt. Well, what could we do... We chipped in and made a deal... But
nothing came of it.
   Geralt raised his head.
   “Nothing, I say,” said Velerad. - The sorceress did not want to go
immediately, on the first night. Climbed, lurked, circled around the outskirts. Finally,
they say he saw a ghoul in action, because the beast does not crawl out
crypt just to straighten the bones. So, he saw her and
that same night he gave in. Without saying goodbye.
   Geralt curled his lips slightly, which apparently meant
start smiling.
   “Smart people,” he began, “probably have not yet wasted those
money? Real witches do not take advance payment.
   “Yeah,” said Velerad, “probably they didn’t waste it.”
   - And according to rumors, how many are there? Don't know?
   “Who says eight hundred...” Velerad grinned.
   Geralt shook his head.
   “And who,” the mayor snapped, “a thousand.”
   - Not enough, considering that gossip is always exaggerated.
By the way, the king gives three thousand.
   “And a bride to boot,” Velerad scoffed.  - So what are we talking about?
you mean they said? It’s clear that you won’t get these three thousand.
   - Why is this so clear?
   Velerad slammed his hand on the table.
   - Don’t spoil my opinion about witchers, Geralt! The story goes on
already six years and counting. The ghoul finishes off fifty people per
a year, now it’s true, it’s less, because everyone stays away from
palace No, brother, I believe in charmsI've seen a lot on my
century, and I believe - of course, to a certain extent - in the ability
magicians and witches. But as for disenchantment, this is nonsense, nonsense.
vegetable oil, invented by a hunchbacked and snotty grandfather in a cap,
stupefied by loneliness in their wasteland, the stupidity into which
no one believes except Foltest. No, Geralt.  Adda gave birth to a happy
Rihu because she slept with her own brother, that's the truth, and
no charms and magic will help here. The ghoul devours people,
as befits a ghoul, and she must be finished off, normally and simply.
Listen, two years ago, peasants from some shabby law
street near Mahakam, where the dragon was devouring the sheep, they went en masse,
they beat him with a hammer and didn’t even consider it necessary to boast about it. A
here in Vizima we are waiting for a miracle and bolting the doors to every
before the full moon, or we tie the criminals to a post in front of the palace
rum, in the hope that the beast will get drunk and return to his coffin.
   “That’s not a bad idea,” the sorcerer grinned. - Well, how, it decreased
crime?
   - Not at all.
   - How to get to the new palace?
   - I'll see you off. Well, what about the offer... of smart people?
   “City ruler,” said Geralt. - What's the hurry? After all, I didn’t
a special case in... production can really happen,
regardless of my desires. Then smart people will have to think
how to save me from the wrath of the king and prepare one and a half thousand
orens, about whomsays the people.
   - A thousand...
   “No, most honorable Velerad,” the sorcerer said decisively. - That one
the sorceress to whom you gave a thousand ran away without even haggling, at
just one form of ghouls.  This means the risk is worth more than a thousand.  A
Let's see if it's more than one and a half. Of course, I tentatively
but I'll say goodbye.
   Velerad scratched his head.
   - Geralt, one thousand two hundred? Eh?
   - No, mayor. It's not an easy job. The king gives three, and
I must say that sometimes it is easier to disenchant than to kill.
I think one of my predecessors would have killed the ghoul if
it's that simple.  Or do you think they only allowed themselves to be killed
because they were afraid of the king?
   “Well, okay, brother,” Velerad sadly shook his head. - Agreed. Only the king doesn't say anything about the possibility of an accident.
at work. I sincerely recommend it.

                            . . .

   Foltest was thin and handsome - too handsome.  Sage
I figured he was not yet forty.  He was sitting on
A low carved chair made of ebony, legs stretched towards
fireplace, near which two dogs were warming themselves. Nearby, on the chest, sat
powerfully built elderly man with a beard. Behind the king stood
the second, richly dressed, with an arrogant expression on his face. Nobleman.
   “So the sorcerer is from Rivia,” said the king, breaking
a moment of silence that followed Velerad's opening speech.
   “Yes, sir,” he bowedGeralt's head.
   - Why is your head so gray?  From witchcraft, perhaps?
You're not old. Okay, okay. This is a joke, shut up. Experience, I dare you
I suppose you have some?
   - Yes, sir.
   - I would be glad to listen.
   Geralt bowed his head even lower.
   - You know, sir, our code prohibits talking about
their affairs.
   - A convenient code, most respected sorcerer, very convenient. Well, well
if so, without details, have you dealt with goblins and other evil spirits?
   - Yes.
   - With vampires?
   - Same.
   Foltest hesitated.
   - With ghouls?
   Geralt raised his head and looked the king in the eyes.
   - Yes.
   Foltest looked away.
   - Velerad!
   - I’m listening, dear sir.
   - Did you fill him in on the details?
   - Yes, dear sir. He claims that the princess can be
disenchant.
   - I’ve known for a long time.  How, dear sorcerer? Oh, really
I completely forgot.   Code.  Fine.  Just one small
remark.  Many witches have already been here. You told him
Velerad?  Fine.  So I know what you're mostly doing
murders, and not the removal of spells and spells. This is unacceptable. If you
Even if a hair falls from my daughter's head, you will lose yours
scaffold. This is all. Ostrit and you, honorable Segelin, will remain,
tell him everything he wants to know. They are always a lot
they ask, witches.  Feed him and let him live in the palace.
There's no point in wandering aroundvisiting courtyards and taverns.
   The king stood up, whistled for the dogs and walked towards the door, raking
feet on the straw that covered the floor. At the door he turned around.
   - If it works, sorcerer, the reward is yours.  Maybe I'll throw it in
something else, if you manage it properly.  Of course, in
there is not a word of truth in the chatter regarding marrying a princess.
I hope you don't think that I will marry my daughter to a man without family and
tribe?
   - I don't think so, sir.
   - Well, that’s nice. So you are intelligent. In moderation.
   Foltest left and slammed the door behind him. Velerad and the nobleman,
Those who had been standing there before sat down at the table. The mayor finished his drink
Foltest's half-empty cup, looked into the jug,
swore.  Ostrit, who occupied the king's chair, looked at the sorcerer
from under his forehead, stroking the carved armrest with his hands.  Segelin,
The bearded man nodded to Herald.
   - Sit down, most respected sorcerer, sit down.  They'll serve it now
supper.  What would you like to talk about? City Governor Velerad,
probably explained everything to you? I know him and I vouch for what he said
too much rather than not enough.
   - Just a few questions.
   - Ask.
   - The city ruler said that after the appearance of the ghoul, the king
summoned many Initiates?
   - That's how it was. But you shouldn’t say “ghoul”, you should -
"princess".   It will be easier to avoid reservations under the king and
troubles associated with this.
   - Among the Initiateswas there anyone famous? Famous?
   - There were some. I don’t remember the names... And you, Honorable Ostrit?
   “I don’t remember,” said the nobleman, “but I know that some pol-
called fame and recognition. Many people talked about this.
   - Did they agree that the spell could be lifted?
   “They were far from agreeing,” Segelin chuckled. - According to love-
big question. But such an opinion was expressed.  This, as I understand it,
It's very easy to do. It is enough to spend the night - from sunset -
until the third roosters - in the dungeon, near the sarcophagus. And for this
You don't need to be a magician at all.
   “It’s really simple,” Velerad grinned.
   - I would like to know what... the princess looks like.
   Velerad jumped up from his chair.
   - The princess looks like a ghoul! - he barked. - Like the most
the most ghoulish ghoul I've ever heard of! In Her Highness
the royal daughter, the damned superbastard, four cubits
tall, she resembles a beer keg, mouth from ear to ear
full of teeth, sharp as daggers, red zenks and red hairs!
The paws have claws, like those of a lynx, and they hang down to the ground. I'm surprised
How have we not yet started sending out her thumbnails to friendly
yards!  To the princess - let the plague take her! - for fourteen years already,
a girl of marriageable age, but she’s missing a prince!
   “Stop, mayor,” Ostrit winced, looking
on the door.
   Segelin smiled faintly.
   - The description is verycolorful, but still enough
exact, and this is what you were interested in, most respected sorcerer?
Velerad just forgot to say that the princess moves with
incredible speed and it is much stronger than one can judge from
its growth and structure. And the fact that she is fourteen years old is a fact. If
it matters.
   “It has,” said the sorcerer. - And she attacks people only in
full moon?
   “Yes,” Segelin replied. - If it happens behind the walls
old palace.  In the palace, people died regardless of the phase
moon.  But she leaves the palace only on the full moon, and even then not
always.
   - Was there at least one case of attack during the day?
   - No. During the day - no.
   - Does she always eat victims?
   Velerad spat with relish on the straw.
   - Damn you, Geralt! Now there will be supper. Ugh! Devours
gnaws, snatches off pieces, anything happens, depending
depending on your mood, I guess.  I only bit off the head of one,
gutted several, and gnawed others clean, one might say
bald. Her mother is like that!
   - Be careful, Velerad! - Ostrit hissed. - Talk about the ghoul
whatever you want, but don’t insult Adda in front of me. Not under the king
dare!
   - Did any of those she captured survive? - asked
the sorcerer, not paying attention to the nobleman’s outburst.
   Segelin and Ostrit looked at each other.
   “Yes,” said the bearded man. - At the very beginning, six years ago,
she attacked twosoldiers standing guard at the crypt.
One managed to escape.
   “And even later,” Velerad added. - The miller to whom she
attacked outside the palace walls. Remember?

                (continued in 'FantOCh/2')