The Last Wish (17 page)

'It's loud enough that we can exchange a few words discreetly. Let us start with courtesies: I'm pleased to meet you.'

'The pleasure's mutual, your Majesty.'

'After the courtesies come hard facts. I've got a job for you.'

'So I gathered. I'm rarely invited to feasts for the pleasure of my company.'

'You're probably not very interesting company, then. What else have you gathered?'

'I'll tell you when you've outlined my task, your Majesty.'

'Geralt,' said Calanthe, her fingers tapping an emerald necklace, the smallest stone of which was the size of a bumble-bee, 'what sort of task do you expect, as a witcher? What? Digging a well? Repairing a hole in the roof? Weaving a tapestry of all the positions King Vridank and the beautiful Cerro tried on their wedding night? Surely you know what your profession's about?'

'Yes, I do. I'll tell you what I've gathered, your Majesty.'

'I'm curious.'

'I gathered that. And that, like many others, you've mistaken my trade for an altogether different profession.'

'Oh?' Calanthe, casually leaning towards the lute-strumming Drogodar, gave the impression of being pensive and absent. 'Who, Geralt, makes up this ignorant horde with whom you equate me? And for what profession do those fools mistake your trade?'

'Your Majesty,' said Geralt calmly, 'while I was riding to Cintra, I met villagers, merchants, peddlers, dwarves, tinkers and woodcutters. They told me about a black annis who has its hideout somewhere in these woods, a little house on a chicken-claw tripod. They mentioned a chimera nestling in the mountains. Aeschnes and centipedeanomorphs. Apparently a manticore could also be found if you look hard enough. So many tasks a witcher could perform without having to dress up in someone else's feathers and coat of arms.'

'You didn't answer my question.'

'Your Majesty, I don't doubt that a marriage alliance with Skellige is necessary for Cintra. It's possible, too, that the schemers who want to prevent it deserve a lesson - using means which don't involve you. It's convenient if this lesson were to be given by an unknown lord from Fourhorn, who would then disappear from the scene. And now I'll answer your question. You mistake my trade for that of a hired killer. Those others, of whom there are so many, are rulers. It's not the first time I've been called to a court where the problems demand the quick solutions of a sword. But I've never killed people for money, regardless of whether it's for a good or bad cause. And I never will.'

The atmosphere at the table was growing more and more lively as the beer diminished. The red-haired Crach an Craite found appreciative listeners to his tale of the battle at Thwyth.

Having sketched a map on the table with the help of meat bones dipped in sauce, he marked out the strategic plan, shouting loudly. Coodcoodak, proving how apt his nickname was, suddenly cackled like a very real sitting hen, creating general mirth among the guests, and consternation among the servants who were convinced that a bird, mocking their vigilance, had somehow managed to make its way from the courtyard into the hall.

'Thus fate has punished me with too shrewd a witcher,' Calanthe smiled, but her eyes were narrowed and angry. 'A witcher who, without a shadow of respect or, at the very least, of common courtesy, exposes my intrigues and infamous plans. But hasn't fascination with my beauty and charming personality clouded your judgement? Don't ever do that again, Geralt.

Don't speak to those in power like that. Few of them would forget your words, and you know kings - they have all sorts of things at their disposal: daggers, poisons, dungeons, red-hot pokers. There are hundreds, thousands, of ways kings can avenge their wounded pride. And 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—'

'Sit on your arse and keep quiet, Crach,' called Eist Tuirseach, interrupting his conversation with Vissegerd. 'Enough of these arguments. Drogodar, sir! Don't waste your talent! Indeed, your beautiful though quiet tunes should be listened to with greater concentration and gravity.

Draig Bon-Dhu, stop scoffing and guzzling! You're not going to impress anyone here like that. Pump up your bagpipes and delight our ears with decent martial music. With your permission, noble Calanthe!'

'Oh mother of mine,' whispered the queen to Geralt, raising her eyes to the vault for a moment in silent resignation. But she nodded her permission, smiling openly and kindly.

'Draig Bon-Dhu,' said Eist, 'play us the song of the battle of Hochebuz. It won't leave us in any doubt as to the tactical manoeuvres of commanders - or as to who acquired immortal fame there! To the health of the heroic Calanthe of Cintra!'

'The health! And glory!' The guests roared, emptying their goblets and clay cups.

Draig Bon-Dhu's bagpipes gave out an ominous drone and burst into a terrible, drawn-out, modulated wail. The guests took up the song, beating out a rhythm on the table with whatever came to hand. Coodcoodak was staring avidly at the goat-leather sack, captivated by the idea of adopting its dreadful tones in his own repertoire.

'Hochebuz,' said Calante, looking at Geralt, 'my first battle.

Although I fear rousing the indignation and contempt of such a proud witcher, I confess that we were fighting for money. Our enemy was burning villages which paid us levies and we, greedy for our tributes, challenged them on the field. A trivial reason, a trivial battle, a trivial three thousand corpses pecked to pieces by the crows. And look - instead of being ashamed I'm proud as a peacock that songs are sung about me. Even when sung to such awful music'

Again she summoned her parody of a smile full of happiness and kindness, and answered the toast raised to her by lifting her own, empty, goblet. Geralt remained silent.

'Let's go on.' Calanthe accepted a pheasant leg offered to her by Drogodar and picked at it gracefully. 'As I said, you've aroused my interest. I've been told that witchers are an interesting caste, but I didn't really believe it. Now I do. When hit you give a note which shows you're fashioned of pure steel, unlike these men moulded from bird shit. Which doesn't, in any way, change the fact that you're here to execute a task. And you'll do it without being so clever.'

Geralt didn't smile disrespectfully or nastily, although he very much wanted to. He held his silence.

'I thought,' murmured the queen, appearing to give her full attention to the pheasant's thigh,

'that you'd say something. Or smile. No? All the better. Can I consider our negotiations concluded?'

'Unclear tasks,' said the witcher dryly, 'can't be clearly executed.'

'What's unclear? You did, after all, guess correctly. I have plans regarding a marriage alliance with Skellige. These plans are threatened, and I need you to eliminate the treat. But here your shrewdness ends. The supposition that I mistake your trade for that of a hired thug has piqued me greatly. Accept, Geralt, that I belong to that select group of rulers who know exactly what witchers do, and how they ought to be employed. On the other hand, if someone kills as efficiently as you do, even though not for money, he shouldn't be surprised if people credit him with being a professional in that field. Your fame runs ahead of you, Geralt, it's louder than Draig Bon-Dhu's accursed bagpipes, and there are equally few pleasant notes in it.'

The bagpipe player, although he couldn't hear the queen's words, finished his concert. The guests rewarded him with an uproarious ovation and dedicated themselves with renewed zeal to the remains of the banquet, recalling battles and making rude jokes about womenfolk.

Coodcoodak was making a series of loud noises, but there was no way to tell if these were yet another animal imitation, or an attempt to relieve his overloaded stomach.

Eist Tuirseach leant far across the table. 'Your Majesty,' he said, 'there are good reasons, I am sure, for your dedication to the lord from Fourhorn, but it's high time we saw Princess Pavetta. What are we waiting for? Surely not for Crach an Craite to get drunk? And even that moment is almost here.'

'You're right as usual, Eist,' Calanthe smiled warmly. Geralt was amazed by her arsenal of smiles. 'Indeed, I do have important matters to discuss with the Honourable Ravix. I'll dedicate some time to you too, but you know my principle: duty then pleasure. Haxo!'

She raised her hand and beckoned the castellan. Haxo rose without a word, bowed, and quickly ran upstairs, disappearing into the dark gallery. The queen turned to the witcher.

'You heard? We've been debating for too long. If Pavetta has stopped preening in front of the looking-glass she'll be here presently. So prick up your ears because I won't repeat this. I want to achieve the ends which,, to a certain degree, you have guessed. There can be no other solution. As for you, you have a choice. You can be forced to act by my command - I don't wish to dwell on the consequences of disobedience, although obedience will be generously rewarded - or you can render me a paid service. Note that I didn't say “I can buy you”, because I've decided not to offend your witcher's pride. There's a huge difference, isn't there?'

'The magnitude of this difference has somehow escaped my notice.'

'Then pay greater attention. The difference, my dear witcher, is that one who is bought is paid according to the buyer's whim, whereas one who renders a service sets his own price. Is that clear?'