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[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
you wouldn't believe how easy it is, Geralt, to wound some rulers' pride. Rarely will any of
them take words such as "No", "I won't",
and "Never" calmly. But that's nothing. Interrupt one of them or make inappropriate
comments, and you'll condemn yourself to the wheel.'
The queen clasped her narrow white hands together and lightly rested her chin on them.
Geralt didn't interrupt, nor did he comment.
'Kings,' continued Calanthe, 'divide people into two categories -those they order around, and
those they buy - because they adhere to the old and banal truth that everyone can be bought.
Everyone. It's only a question of price. Don't you agree? Ah, I don't need to ask. You're a
witcher, after all, you do your job and take the money. As far as you're concerned the idea of
being bought has lost its scornful undertone. The question of your price, too, is clear, related
as it is to the difficulty of the task and how well you execute it. And your fame, Geralt. Old
men at fairs and markets sing of the exploits of the white-haired witcher from Rivia. If even
half of it is true then I wager your services are not cheap. So it would be a waste of money to
engage you in such simple, trite matters as palace intrigue or murder. Those can be dealt with
by other, cheaper hands.'
'BRAAAK! Ghaaa-braaak!' roared Coodcoodak suddenly, to loud applause. Geralt didn't
know which animal he was imitating, but he didn't want to meet anything like it. He turned
his head and caught the queen's venomously green glance. Drogodar, his lowered head and
face concealed by his curtain of grey hair, quietly strummed his lute.
'Ah, Geralt,' said Calanthe, with a gesture forbidding a servant from refilling her goblet. 'I
speak and you remain silent. We're at a feast. We all want to enjoy ourselves. Amuse me. I'm
starting to miss your pertinent remarks and perceptive comments. I'd also be pleased to hear a
compliment or two, homage or assurance of your obedience. In whichever order you choose.'
'Oh well, your Majesty,' said the witcher, 'I'm not a very interesting dinner companion. I'm
amazed to be singled out for the honour of occupying this place. Indeed, someone far more
appropriate should have been seated here. Anyone you wished. It
would have sufficed for you to give them the order, or to buy them. It's only a question of
price.'
'Go on, go on,' Calanthe tilted her head back and closed her eyes, the semblance of a pleasant
smile on her lips.
'So I'm honoured and proud to be sitting by Queen Calanthe of Cintra, whose beauty is
surpassed only by her wisdom. I also regard it as a great honour that the queen has heard of
me and that, on the basis of what she has heard, does not wish to use me for trivial matters.
Last winter Prince Hrobarik, not being so gracious, tried to hire me to find a beauty who, sick
of his vulgar advances, had fled the ball, losing a slipper. It was difficult to convince him that
he needed a huntsman, and not a witcher.'
The queen was listening with an enigmatic smile.
'Other rulers, too, unequal to you in wisdom, didn't refrain from proposing trivial tasks. It was
usually a question of the murder of a stepson, stepfather, stepmother, uncle, aunt - it's hard to
mention them all. They were all of the opinion that it was simply a question of price.'
The queen's smile could have meant anything.
'And so I repeat,' Geralt bowed his head a little, 'that I can't contain my pride to be sitting next
to you, ma'am. And pride means a very great deal to us witchers. You wouldn't believe how
much. A lord once offended a witcher's pride by proposing a job that wasn't in keeping with
either honour or the witcher's code. What's more, he didn't accept a polite refusal and wished
to prevent the witcher from leaving his castle. Afterwards everyone agreed this wasn't one of
his best ideas.'
'Geralt,' said Calanthe, after a moment's silence, 'you were wrong. You're a very interesting
dinner companion.'
Coodcoodak, shaking beer froth from his whiskers and the front of his jacket, craned his neck
and gave the penetrating howl of a she-wolf in heat. The dogs in the courtyard, and the entire
neighbourhood, echoed the howl.
One of the brothers from Strept dipped his finger in his beer and touched up the thick line
around the formation drawn by Crach an Craite.
'Error and incompetence!' he shouted. 'They shouldn't have done that! Here, towards the wing,
that's where they should have directed the cavalry, struck the flanks!'
'Ha!' roared Crach an Craite, whacking the table with a bone and splattering his neighbours'
faces and tunics with sauce. 'And so weaken the centre? A key position? Ludicrous!'
'Only someone who's blind or sick in the head would miss the opportunity to manoeuvre in a
situation like that!'
'That's it! Quite right!' shouted Windhalm of Attre.
'Who's asking you, you little snot?'
'Snot yourself!'
'Shut your gob or I'll wallop you ' [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
