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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, 07/03/97.
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│ Andrzej Sapkowski, 1986 │
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PART TWO.
In the room above the guardhouse, where they placed the sorceress, the miller
They brought me the next day, late in the evening. The soldiers brought him to
cloak with a hood.
It cannot be said that the conversation yielded significant results.
The miller was frightened, muttering and stuttering. The sorcerer was told more
his scars - the ghoul had respectable jaws and
really very sharp teeth, including long upper ones
fangs, two on each side. The claws are indeed more barbed than those of a lynx,
but not so hooked. This is probably why the miller managedbreak out.
Having finished the inspection, the sorcerer dismissed the miller and the soldier with a nod.
The soldier pushed the guy out the door and took off his hood. It was Foltest
in person.
“Don’t get up,” said the king. - The visit is unofficial. You
satisfied with the interrogation? I heard you visited the palace this morning?
- Yes, sir.
- When will you start working?
- Four days until the full moon. After him.
- Do you want to look at it first?
- No need. But... the satiated... princess... will not
so mobile.
- Ghoul, master, ghoul. There is no need for us to be diplomatic. Princess
it will only be there yet. However, this is exactly what I wanted with you
talk. Answer informally, briefly and clearly - will it or won’t it?
will it be? Just don’t try to hide behind your codes.
Geralt rubbed his forehead.
- I confirm that the damage can be removed. And if I'm not mistaken, then
actually spending the night in the palace. Third roosters if
They will find the ghoul outside the tomb and remove the spell. Usually
This is exactly what they do with ghouls.
- Is it that simple?
- And it’s not easy at all. First, you need to survive this night.
Deviations from the norm are also possible. For example, not just one night, but
three. One after another. There are such cases... well... hopeless.
“Yes,” the king shuddered. - I constantly hear the same thing.
Kill the monster, because this is an incurable case. The master, I'm sure, with
you've already been told. A? They say, kill the cannibal withoutceremonies
immediately, and you tell the king, they say, nothing would have worked out otherwise. Not
If the king pays, we will pay. Very convenient. And cheap. Because
how the king orders the witcher's head to be cut off or hanged, and
the gold will remain in your pocket.
- Will you definitely order the beheading of the sorcerer? - winced
Geralt.
Foltest was silent for a long time, looking into the Rivian’s eyes. Then
said:
- I don’t know. But you still have to take this possibility into account.
Now Geralt fell silent.
“I intend to do everything in my power,” he finally said.
he. “But if things go badly, I will defend myself.” you,
Sir, we must also take this possibility into account.
Foltest stood up.
- You don’t understand me. That's not the point. It is absolutely clear that
you'll kill her if it gets hot, whether I like it or not.
Otherwise, she will kill you, surely and irrevocably. I don't disclose
this, but I wouldn't punish anyone who killed her okay
self-defense. But I won't let her be killed without trying to save her.
They already tried to set fire to the old palace, they shot at her with arrows,
dug holes, set snares and traps until
I did not hang up several “wise men”. But, I repeat, that’s not what we’re talking about
speech. Listen, master...
- I'm listening.
- After the third roosters, if I understand correctly, the striga does not
will become. And who will be?
- If everything goes as it should - a fourteen-year-old girl.
- Red-eyed, withwith teeth like a crocodile?
- A normal girl. Only now...
- Well...
- Physically.
- Here you go! What about mentally? A bucket for breakfast every day
blood? Girl's thigh?
- No. Mentally... It's hard to say... I don't even know... I think
at the level of, well, a three or four year old child. She'll need
caring care. Quite a long time.
- That's clear, master...
- Well?
- Could this happen again? Later?
The Sage was silent.
“Yes,” said the king. - Maybe. So what then?
- If after a long period of unconsciousness, well, let’s say, for
She will die in about a week and a half, and the body must be burned. And how
as soon as possible.
Foltest frowned.
“However, I don’t think,” added Geralt, “that it will come to that.”
To be sure, I will give you some tips on how to reduce the danger.
- Already now? Isn't it a little early, master? What if...
“Already now,” the Rivian interrupted him. - Anything can happen
king In particular, what you will find in the crypt in the morning
the enchanted princess and my corpse.
- Even so? Despite my permission to defend myself?
Which I don't think you really need?
- This is a serious matter, king. The risk is very high. Therefore
listen: the princess will have to wear a sapphire around her neck at all times,
best of all, inclusion, on a silver chain. Constantly. During the day and
at night.
- What is inclusion?
- Talisman. In this case, a sapphire with an air bubbleinside. In addition, in the fireplace of her bedroom it is necessary from time to time
burn juniper, gorse and hazel branches.
Foltest thought about it.
- Thank you for the advice, master. I'll stick to them
if... Now listen to me carefully. If you see that
it's a hopeless case, kill her. If you lift the spell, but
the girl will not be... normal... if you have at least
a shadow of doubt that everything went as it should, kill it too. Not
fear me. I will shout at you in front of people. I'll kick you out of the palace
and cities, nothing more. Of course, I won’t give you a reward. Well maybe
you can bargain something, you know who.
They were silent for a while.
“Geralt,” Foltest addressed the sorcerer by name for the first time.
- I'm listening.
- How much truth is there in the rumors that the child was born this way?
just because Adda was my sister?
- A little. The damage must be done, no spells can be created by yourself
by yourself. But I think it was your connection with your sister that became the reason for
such a spell, and therefore the reason for such a result.
- That's what I thought. Thus spoke some of the Initiates,
True, not all. Geralt, where does all this come from? Enchantment, magic?
- I don’t know, king. Initiates study the causes of such phenomena.
It is enough for us witches to know that they can be summoned
concentration of will. And know how to deal with them.
- By killing?
- Mostly. However, more often just for thiswe get paid. Few
who seeks to break the spell. Typically people just want
avoid danger. If the monster also has corpses on its conscience, then
the desire to take revenge on him for what he has done is added.
The king stood up, walked around the room, stopped in front of the hanging
on the wall of the sorcerer's sword.
- With this? - he asked without looking at Herald.
- No. This one is for the people.
- I've heard a lot. You know what, Geralt? I'll go with you to the crypt.
- Excluded.
Foltest turned. The eyes sparkled.
- Do you know, sorcerer, that I have never seen her? Never
after birth, nor... later. I was afraid. I can never have her again
see, right? I have the right to at least see how you will be her
kill.
- I repeat, it’s impossible. This is certain death. For me too. If
I will weaken my attention, my will... No, king.
Foltest turned and headed towards the door. It seemed to Geralt that
that he would leave without saying a word, without a farewell gesture, but
the king stopped and looked at him.
“You inspire confidence,” he said. - Although I don’t know what
you are for the fruit. They told me what happened in the tavern. I'm sure
you killed these thugs just for publicity, so that
shake people up, shake me up. It's clear that you could
negotiate with them without killing. I'm afraid I'll never know
Do you intend to save my daughter or kill me? But I'm going for it.
I have to agree. Do you know why?
Geraltdidn't answer.
“I think,” said the king, “she is suffering.” Is it true?
The sorcerer looked at the king carefully. He didn't confirm
nodded, did not make the slightest gesture, but Foltest knew, knew
answer.
. . .
Geralt looked out the palace window for the last time. It was getting dark. For
The foggy lights of Vizima twinkled across the lake. Around the palace
stretched a wasteland - a strip of no-man's land, beyond which the city
for six years he fenced himself off from a dangerous place, leaving nothing behind,
except for a few ruins, rotten beams and remains
chipped picket fence, which apparently did not pay for the dismantling and
transfer Farthest away, to the other edge of the city, he moved his
residence of the king himself - the pot-bellied tower of his new palace turned black
in the distance against the dark blue sky.
The sorcerer approached the dusty table. There was enough time.
The ghoul will not come out of the crypt until midnight.
There was a small shackled chest on the table. Geralt opened
him. Inside, tightly, in compartments lined with dry grass, there were
dark glass bottles. He took out three.
He picked up from the floor an oblong bale, tightly wrapped in sheepskin.
skinned and tied with a belt. He unfolded it and took out a sword with a decorated
carved handle, resting in a black shiny sheath with
runic writings and symbols. He drew his blade. Blade,
made of pure silver, sparkled with a mirror shine.Geralt whispered the formula and slowly drank the contents of two
bottles, after each sip placing his hand on the head of the sword.
Then, tightly wrapped in his black cloak, he sat down on the floor. B
there was not a single chair in the room. As, indeed, throughout the entire palace.
He sat motionless, closing his eyes. His breath, at first
smooth, suddenly became accelerated, hoarse, restless. And then
completely stopped. The mixture with which the witcher
subjugated all parts of the body, mainly consisting of hellebore,
Datura, hawthorn and milkweed. The remaining components did not have
names in no human language. Don't be Geralt since childhood
accustomed to the drug, it would be a deadly poison.
The sorcerer turned his head sharply. His heightened hearing caught
the silence of the rustling of footsteps across the grassy yard. This couldn't be
ghoul. It's too light. Geralt threw the sword behind his back and hid it
a bale in the coals of a collapsed fireplace and quietly, like a bat, ran down the
stairs
It was still so light outside that the approaching man
could see the sorcerer's face. The man who was Ostrit backed away,
an involuntary grimace of surprise and disgust distorted his face.
The sorcerer smiled wryly - he knew what he looked like. After a hodgepodge of
belladonna, wrestler and eyebright, the face becomes chalk white, and the pupils
fill the entire iris. But the medicine makes it possible to
to see in the deepest darkness, and this isThat's exactly what Herald needed.
Ostrit quickly pulled himself together.
“You look like a corpse, sorcerer,” he said, “probably from
fear? Don't be afraid. I brought you life.
The Sage did not answer.
- Don’t you hear what I said, Riva healer? You are saved. And
rich,” Ostrit threw a large bag on his arm and threw it under
Geralt's legs. - A thousand orens. Take it, get on your horse and
getting out of here!
The Rivian was silent.
- Well, what are you staring at? - Ostrit raised his voice. - And don’t delay
me. I don't intend to be here until midnight. It's not clear, is it? I
I don't want you to lift the spell. Don't think you got it right. I
not in cahoots with Velerad and Segelin. I just don't want you
killed her. Everything should remain as is.
The sorcerer did not move. He didn't want the nobleman to understand
How accelerated are his movements and reactions now? Fast
It was getting dark, this was only to Geralt’s advantage, since even the twilight
the twilight was too bright for his dilated pupils.
- Why, dear sir, should everything remain the same? -
he finally asked, trying to pronounce as slowly as possible
words.
“But this,” Ostrit raised his head arrogantly, “is not yours.”
it's a matter of mind.
- What if I already know?
- Interesting...
- It will be easier to throw Foltest off the throne if the ghoul gets to him
even more people? If the royal extravagance is even greater
will upset both the nobles and the common people,right? I was coming to you
through Redania, through Novigrad. There's a lot of talk there about
Some people in Vizim look at King Vizimir as
deliverer and true monarch. But I, noble Ostrit,
interested in neither politics, nor inheritance of thrones, nor palace
coups. I'm here to do my job. Anything for you
know about commitment and common decency?
- Don't forget who you're talking to, tramp! - shouted furiously
He makes jokes, squeezing the hilt of his sword. - I'm not used to arguing with anyone
horrible! Look, ethics, codes, morals! And who is saying this?
The robber, who didn’t even have time to arrive, had already killed three? What bowed
Foltest, and behind his back he was bargaining with Velerad, as if
assassin? And you dare to raise your head, serf?
Pretending to be an Initiate? A magician? A sorcerer? You lousy
Witcher! Get out of here before I crush your skull!
The sorcerer didn’t even flinch.
- You wanted this yourself, sorcerer. I'll kill you! No one will bother you
your tricks. I have a turtle stone with me!
Geralt chuckled. Opinion about the power of turtle stone
was as common as it was erroneous. But the sorcerer does not
was going to waste energy on spells and especially cross
silver blade with Ostrit's steel sword. He dived under
circular point and brush bones, silver spikes
cuffs, hit the nobleman in the temple.. . .
Ostrit woke up quickly. Darkness. He was tied up. Geralt,
he did not see the one standing very close. But I realized where it was and
howled desperately, drawn out.
“Be silent,” said the sorcerer. - What else can you say to her?
ahead of time.
- Damn killer! Where are you? Untie me now, you bastard! I
I'll whip you for this, son of a bitch!
“Be quiet,” Geralt repeated.
Ostrit was breathing heavily.
-Will you leave me to be eaten by her? Related? - he asked already
Quieter and very quietly he added a curse word.
“No,” said the sorcerer. - I'll let you go. But not now.
- Scoundrel! To distract her?
- Yes.
Ostrit fell silent, stopped rushing about, and lay calm.
- Sage?
- Yes?
- You are right. I wanted to throw Foltest off. I'm not alone. But I was thirsty
his death, wanted him to die in agony, to go crazy, to
rotted alive. Do you know why?
Geralt was silent.
- I loved Adda. The royal sister, the royal mistress,
royal wench! I loved her... Sage, are you here?
- Here.
- I know what you're thinking. But this was not the case. Believe me, I'm not
cast no spells. I don't know any magic. Only
Once, out of anger, he said... Only once. Sage! Are you listening?
- I'm listening.
- This is his mother, the old queen. Surely she is. I couldn't
transfer that he and Adda... It's not me. I only once
you see, I tried to persuade her... and Adda... Sage!on me
found it, and I said... Sage? So, me? I?
- It doesn't matter anymore.
- Sage? Is it midnight soon?
- Soon.
- Let me out early. Give me more time.
- No.
. . .
Ostrit did not hear the grinding sound of the gravestone being moved away, but
the witcher heard. He bent down and cut the rope with his dagger,
with which the nobleman was pulled down. Ostrit didn’t wait, he jumped up
and awkwardly took a few steps. Then he ran. His eyes are already
got used to the darkness, and he could see the road leading from the main hall
to the exit.
A slab covering the entrance to the crypt flew out of the floor with a roar.
Geralt, prudently hiding behind a column, saw
the ugly figure of a ghoul, deftly, quickly and unerringly rushing
following the retreating tramp of Ostrit's boots. The ghoul did not make a sound
sound.
A monstrous, heartbreaking, crazy scream tore through the night,
shook the old walls and poured, now rising, now falling, and
vibrated. The sorcerer could not accurately estimate the distance - his sensitive
the rumor was wrong - but he knew that the ghoul had reached Ostrit
quickly. Too fast.
He walked out into the middle of the hall and stood at the very entrance to the crypt.
He threw away his cloak. He shrugged his shoulders, adjusting the position of his sword. Pulled
mittens. There was still some time. He knew that the ghoul, although
If she's drunk, she won't leave Ostrit's corpse so quickly. Heart and liver
were a valuable supply of food for her,allowing you to stay for a long time
lethargy.
The Sage was waiting. Until dawn, he calculated, there was still about
three hours. The crowing of a rooster would only confuse him.
However, there seemed to be no roosters in the area at all.
And then he heard. She walked slowly, her feet slapping the floor. A
then he saw her.
The description was accurate: a disproportionately large head,
sitting on a short neck, surrounded by a tangled halo of reddish
hair The eyes glowed in the darkness, like two carbuncles. Empress
stood motionless, staring at Geralt. Suddenly she opened
mouth, as if boasting rows of white wedge-shaped teeth, then
she clicked her jaw. It sounded like a lid had been slammed shut.
iron box. And she immediately jumped, from a standing start, without a running start,
aiming at the sorcerer with bloody claws.
Geralt jumped back, spun, the ghoul touched him and also
spun around, tearing the air with her claws, but then attacked again,
immediately, with a half-turn, clicking his teeth in front of his chest
Geralt. The Rivian bounced in the other direction, changing three times
direction of rotation, thereby confusing the ghoul.
Bouncing back, he hit her on the head hard, although not with force.
spikes - silver points sitting on the upper side
mittens, on the knuckles.
The ghoul growled terribly, filling the palace with a booming echo, and fell
to the ground and began to howl. Dull, ominousfuriously.
The Sage grinned. The first attempt, as he had hoped,
ended successfully. Silver was deadly for the ghoul, as well as for
most monsters brought to life by witchcraft. It was a beast
like everyone else from their tribe, and, therefore, there was a real opportunity
remove the spell, but a silver sword - as a last resort - could
guarantee his life.
The ghoul was in no hurry to attack. This time she was getting closer
slowly, gaping his fangs, drooling. Geralt retreated and walked
in a semicircle, carefully placing your feet, then slowing down, then speeding up
movement, thereby weakening the attention of the striga, not allowing her to
you should prepare for the jump. Moving, the sorcerer spun
a long thin strong chain with a weight at the end. The chain was from
silver
At the moment when the ghoul jumped, the chain whistled at
air and, curling up like a snake, instantly entwined the arms, neck and
monster's head. The ghoul, emitting a piercing squeal, fell, not
completing the jump. She wriggled on the floor, growling monstrously, either from
rage, or from the scorching pain caused to her by the hated
metal. Geralt was satisfied - to kill the ghoul, if only he
wanted, now it was not difficult. But he did not draw his sword.
So far, nothing in the behavior of the ghoul princess gave reason
assume that this is an incurable case. Geralt a little
retreated, not taking his eyes off the woman thrashing about on the floorfigures, deep breaths -
walked around, gathering his strength.
The chain broke and silver links rained down everywhere.
sides. And the ghoul, blinded by rage, rushed to the attack with a howl.
Geralt calmly waited and raised his right hand to draw in front of him.
Aard sign.
The ghoul flew back a few steps, as if she had been hit
hammer, but stayed on her feet, put out her claws, exposed
fangs. Her hair stood on end and moved as if she was walking
against the harsh wind. With difficulty, coughing, wheezing, step by step,
slowly, but she walked. Still she went!
Geralt became worried. He didn't expect such a simple sign
completely paralyzes the enemy, but I didn’t even think that the beast was so
will recover easily. He couldn't hold the Sign for too long, it's very
was very draining, and the striga had no further to go
ten steps. He abruptly took off the Sign and jumped to the side. Like him and
expected, the striga, taken by surprise, flew forward, losing
balance, turned over, slipped on the floor and rolled
down the steps of the crypt entrance, gaping in the floor. came from below
her frantic howl.
To gain time, Geralt jumped onto the stairs leading to
gallery. He didn't even have time to walk half of it when the striga
got out of the crypt and rushed towards him like a huge spider.
The sorcerer waited until she ran in after him, then jumped over
over the handrail and jumped down. Empressturned around
stairs, pushed off and rushed at him in an incredible, almost
ten meter jump. She no longer allowed herself to be fooled so easily
his pirouettes - twice her claws tore at the Rivan's leather jacket.
But a new, desperately strong blow with the silver spikes of the gauntlet
threw the striga back. Geralt, feeling the surge within him
fury, swayed, threw his body back and with a strong blow to
side knocked the beast off her feet.
The roar she made was louder than all the previous ones. From the ceiling
plaster fell down.
The striga jumped to her feet, trembling with uncontrollable anger and thirst
murders. Geralt was waiting. He had already taken out his sword and was walking, drawing with it
circles in the air, walked around the ghoul, making sure that the movements of the sword did not
matched the rhythm and tempo of his steps. The ghoul did not bounce back,
slowly approached, moving her eyes after the bright stripe
blade.
Geralt stopped abruptly, froze with his head raised
with a sword. The ghoul, confused, also stopped. Sage slowly
described a semicircle with its tip and took a step towards the enemy. Then
one more. And then he jumped, drawing circles above his head with his sword.
The ghoul cowered and backed away. Geralt was getting closer. Eyes
the sorcerers flared up with an ominous fire, through clenched teeth
a hoarse growl escaped. The ghoul retreated again, thrown back
the power of condensed hatred, malice and strength emanating from
the witcher who attacked her,waves beating into it, penetrating
into the brain and insides. Struck by a hitherto unknown sensation,
She let out a vibrating thin squeal and turned around in place.
and rushed into the gloomy labyrinth of palace corridors.
Geralt remained in the middle of the hall. One. He was shaking. How much
he thought, it took a while for this dance on the edge
abyss, this crazy ballet led to the desired result,
allowed him to achieve mental fusion with the enemy,
penetrate into the depths of the concentrated will that overwhelmed
ghoul. An evil, painful will, the power of which gave birth to this
freak, ghoul girl. The sorcerer shuddered at the memory of
the moment when he swallowed this charge of evil, so that like a mirror
reflect it and direct it at the monster. Never before has he
faced such a concentration of hatred and murderous
fury. Even the basilisks, who use the worst
glory.
So much the better, he thought, heading towards the crypt, the entrance to which
blackened a huge hole in the floor. The better, the stronger the blow,
received by the striga itself. This will give him more time
before the beast recovers from shock. It's unlikely he'll be able to
for the second such effort. The effect of the elixirs weakened, and before
dawn is still far away. The ghoul must not enter the crypt until
morning dawn, otherwise all the work will go down the drain.
He came downby steps. The crypt was small and could accommodate three
stone sarcophagus. At the first one from the entrance, the lid was moved.
Geralt took out the third bottle from his bosom and quickly drank it
contents, went down into the sarcophagus. As he expected, the sarcophagus was
double - for mother and daughter.
He pushed the lid only when he heard the roar of the ghoul above.
Lying down next to Adda's mummified corpse, on the slab
the Yrden sign was inscribed on the inside. He placed the sword on his chest and
a small clepsydra with phosphorescent sand. Crossed his arms.
He no longer heard the ghoul's squeals. I stopped hearing altogether
something: the raven eye and celandine began to act.
. . .
When Geralt opened his eyes, the sand in the clepsydra had already poured out
until the end, which meant that he slept longer than necessary.
He listened and heard nothing. The senses were already working
ok.
He took the sword in his hand, ran the other along the lid of the sarcophagus,
pronouncing the formula, then easily moved the stove a little
inches. Silence.
He pulled the lid back further, sat down, holding his weapon at the ready,
stuck his head out. It was dark in the crypt, but the sorcerer knew that in the yard
it's dawn. He struck a fire, lit a small lamp, raised it,
and he cast strange shadows on the walls of the crypt. Empty.
He got out of the sarcophagus, numb and chilled. And then he saw
her. She was lying on her back near the sarcophagus,without feelings.
She wasn't beautiful. Thin, with small sharp points
breasts, dirty. Light red hair covered her almost to
belts Having placed the lamp on the floor, he sat down next to
the girl on her knees, bent over. Her lips were white, on her cheekbone
a large bruise from his blow. Geralt took off his mitten and put it aside
sword, unceremoniously raised her upper lip. The teeth were quite
normal. He took her hand, immersed in tangled hair, and
here, without having time to feel the brush, I saw open eyes. Late.
She raked her claws at her neck, blood gushing onto her face. She
howled, aiming for his eyes with her other hand. He fell on
grabbed her by both hands and pinned her to the floor. She clicked
teeth - already too short - before his eyes. He hit
forehead in the face, pressed harder. She no longer had the strength she had before, she
she just wriggled under him, howled, spitting out blood - his blood -
flooding her mouth. He was losing blood quickly. There was no time. He
cursed and bit her hard on the neck, right under the ear, clenching his teeth
and kept it like that until the inhuman howl turned into
a thin desperate squeal, and then a groan - the cry of an offended fourteen-
a teenage girl.
He let her go when she stopped moving and stood up.
knees, grabbed a piece of cloth from his sleeve pocket, pressed it to
neck. He felt the sword lying nearby and applied it to the unconscious girl.
tipto the throat, leaned towards her hand. The nails were dirty
broken, bloody, but... normal. Absolutely
normal. Human.
The Sage stood up with difficulty. Sticky water was already oozing through the entrance to the crypt.
wet grayness of the morning. He headed for the steps, but swayed
sank heavily to the floor. Blood seeping through matter
flowed down my hand and flowed into my sleeve. He unbuttoned his jacket,
pulled on his shirt and began to wrap it around his neck, knowing that there was time left
It's very unlikely that he will lose consciousness now...
He made it. And he fell into oblivion.
In Vyzima, far beyond the lake, a rooster fluffed up in the cold damp
feathers in the air, he sang hoarsely for the third time.
. . .
He saw the whitewashed walls and ceiling of the room above the guardhouse.
to her. He moved his head, winced in pain, and groaned. The neck was not
knitted tightly, solidly, professionally.
“Lie down, wizard,” said Velerad. - Lie down, don’t move.
- My... sword...
Velerad shook his head.
- Yes, yes, of course. The most important thing is your silver sword, because-
Minsk sword. He is here, don't be afraid. Both the sword and the chest. And three thousand
orenov. Yes, yes, be quiet. It's me who's the old fool, and you're the wise man.
dun. Foltest never tires of repeating that it’s been two days.
- Two...
- Yeah, two. Not bad she divided you. Everything that was
It’s so inside you, in your neck. You've lost a lot of blood. Luckily we
rushed to the palace immediatelyafter the third roosters. In Vizima no one in
I didn’t sleep a wink that night. It was impossible to sleep. You arranged it there
such noise and din... Doesn't my chatter tire you?
- Princess?
- Well? Princess like a princess. Thinner. And some kind of demon
sensible. Cries all the time. And wets the bed. But Foltest go-
says this will change. I think not for the worse? How, Ge-
Ralt?
The Sage closed his eyes.
“Well, okay, I’m leaving,” Velerad stood up. - Rest. Listen, before-
Before I leave, Geralt, tell me: why did you want to bite her to death? Eh?
Geralt?
The Sage was sleeping.
END
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