Stephen Hulin

by Andrzej Sapkowski

  The witcher again refrained from comment.

  ‘They believed him. It was promoted by Ortolan, who had suddenly appeared before the commission smelling of fertilizer fumes. He named Degerlund one of his favourite young men, but who had lapsed. There was no doubt that this young man will correct himself and that he vouched for him. He asked the commission to change it anger to mercy and not to reproach the young man. Finally, he declared Degerlund his successor and follower, and gave him his personal laboratory in the Citadel. He stated that he did not need the laboratory to work under the sky, to work on harvesting areas and gardening beds. Biruta and the others relished the idea. The Citadel, due to its inaccessibility, could successfully serve as a place of isolation. Degerlund had fallen into his own trap. He was under house arrest.’

  The scandal was swept under the rug, though the witcher without comment.

  ‘I suspect,’ Pinety gave him a look, ‘this was also influenced by their attitude towards you, to your personality and reputation.’

  Geralt raised his eyebrows.

  ‘Your witcher code,’ continued the wizard, ‘ostensibly prohibits the killing of humans. But it is said that you follow this code without excessive reverence. What has happened before, that at least a few people have lost their lives to your mercy. Biruta and the other masters fear you. That you’ll go back to Rissberg and finish this thing. And if needs be, them too. The Citadel, is a one hundred percent safe haven, adapted to a laboratory from an ancient dwarven mountain fortress, providing magical protection. No one can get into the Citadel, there is no such possibility. Degerlund is not only isolated but it also safe.’

  Rissberg is safe, thought the witcher. Protected from the scandal by compromise. With Degerlund in isolation, there is no scandal. Not one will know that scoundrel and careerist deceived and wrapped the sorcerers of Rissberg around his finger who believe and proclaim themselves an elite Brotherhood of the Arcane. Taking advantage of the naivety and stupidity of this elite, a degenerate psychopath is able to get away with killing more than forty people.

  ‘At the Citadel,’ the wizard did not take his eyes off of him, ‘Degerlund will be under watch and supervision. He will no longer call any demons.’

  No demon had ever existed. And you, Pinety, know it.

  ‘The Citadel,’ the magician looked away, towards the ships in the harbour, ‘is located in the rock of the Kremor mountain, at the foot of which lies Rissberg. Trying to break in would be tantamount to suicide. Not only because of the magical protection. Remember what you told us back then? About someone possessed who had once killed? In conditions of extreme necessity, sacrificing one for the sake of many, thus eliminating the illegality of illegal actions? But you do realise that now the circumstances are quite different. Isolated, Degerlund does not represent a real and imminent threat. If you lay a finger on him, you will be committing an act of crime and lawlessness. If you try to kill him, you will go on trial for attempted murder. However, some of the people, I know, hope that you will try. And end up on the scaffold. Therefore, I advise: leave him. Forget about Degerlund. Assume everything is okay.’

  ‘You are silent,’ stated Pinety. ‘You refrain from commenting.’

  ‘Because there is nothing to comment on. I’m only curious about one thing. You and Tzara. Will you stay in Rissberg?’

  Pinety laughed. Dry and insincere.

  ‘Both of us, Harlan and myself, were asked to resign of our own accord, for health reasons. We are leaving Rissberg, never to return. Harlan is going to Poviss, into the service of King Rhyd. I am, however, inclined to a longer journey. The Empire of Nilfgaard. I have heard that mages are utilitarian and without much respect. But they pay them well. And since we are talking about Nilfgaard… I almost forgot. I have a parting gift for you, witcher.’

  He unbuckled his belt, wrapped it around the scabbard and handed Geralt the sword.

  ‘This is for you,’ he said before the witcher could say anything. ‘I received it as a gift when I turned sixteen. From a father who could not accept the fact that I had decided to go to a school of magic. He believed that such a gift would affect me enough to decide to become an owner of such weapons, he felt it as my duty to respect traditions of our ancestors and choose a military career. However, I am a disappointing son. I don’t like to hunt, I prefer fishing. I did not marry the daughter of his close friend. I did not become a soldier, and this sword was overgrown with cobwebs in my closet. I don’t need it. It will better serve you.’

  ‘But… Pinety…’

  ‘Take it, without ceremony. I know that your things are gone, and you need a weapon.’

  Geralt took the hilt covered in lizard leather and half pulled the blade from its sheath. At an inch above the guard was a stamp in the shape of a sun with sixteen rays alternately straight and wavy, symbolizing the heraldry of sunlight and warmth from the sun. At two inches above the un began a beautifully engraved stylized inscription, the famous motto of the master.

  ‘A blade of Viroled,’ confirmed the witcher. ‘This time, the original.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing. Just admiring. I don’t know if I can take it…’

  ‘You can take it. You’ve already taken it. In the end, it is in your hands. Damn it, I said without ceremony. I give you the sword as a token of sympathy. For you to understand that not all wizards are your enemies. And I’m more handy with a fishing rod. Nilfgaard has beautiful clear rivers, that are full of trout and salmon.’

  ‘Thank you. Pinety?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Did you give me the sword just out of sympathy?’

  ‘Of course, out of sympathy,’ the magician lowered his voice. ‘But it may not be the only reason. Although what do I care what happens here, for what purpose this sword is used? I am leaving the country, never to come back here. Do you see the majestic galleon at the docks? The “Euryale’s” home port is Bakkal. I sail there the day after tomorrow.’

  ‘You got here too early.’

  ‘Yes…’ the magican faltered slightly. ‘First, I would like… There is someone here I need to say goodbye to…’

  ‘Good luck. Thank you for the sword. And again for my horse. Goodbye, Pinety.’

  ‘Goodbye,’ the magician without hesitation took his offered hand. ‘Goodbye, witcher.’

  ***

  He found Dandelion, of course, in the port tavern, slurping a bowl of soup.

  ‘I’m leaving,’ he said briefly. ‘Right now.’

  ‘Where?’ Dandelion froze with the spoon in his hand. ‘Already? I thought…’

  ‘No matter what you think. I’m going immediately. Calm your cousin the Instigator. I’ll be back before the royal wedding.’

  ‘And what’s that?’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘The sword, of course. Where did you get it? From the wizard, right? And the one that you got from me? Where is that?’

  ‘Lost. Go back to the upper town, Dandelion.’

  ‘And Coral?’

  ‘What about Coral?’

  ‘What should I say to her, if she asks…’

  ‘She won’t ask. She won’t have time for it. She will be saying goodbye to someone.’

  ***

  Interlude

  CONFIDENTIAL

  Illustrious Reverend

  Grand Master Hugues de Napeys

  Head of the Chapter of Talent and Art

  Novigrad

  Datura ex Castle Rissberg

  15th day of Jul. 1245 post Resurrection

  Re:

  Master Albert Sorel Amador Degerlund

  Honerable Archmagister!

  No doubt the Chapter has heard rumours about the incidents that took place in the summer around Temeria on the western borders, the consequences of the incidents as expected, was the death of about forty people – more precise information is not available – mostly unskilled forest workers. These incidents are linked, unfor
tunately, with Albert Sorel Amador Degerlund, a member of the research group out of Castle Rissberg.

  The Rissberg research group expressed condolence to the families of the victims of the incidents, although the victim’s standing on the social hierarchy is extremely low, they abused alcohol and were leading extremely immoral lives, and probably did not keep family ties.

  I would like to remind the Capital that Master Degerlund is a disciple and follower of Archmagister Ortolan, an outstanding scientist, a specialist in the field of genetics, and having achieved, almost invaluable achievements in the fields of transhumanism, introgression and speciation. This research that Master Degerlund leads could be critical to the development and evolution of the human race. It is known that the human race is inferior to other species in relation to a number of physical, mental and psychological opportunities. Master Degerlund’s experiments based on the hybridization and merging of the gene pool, are intended to initially bring the human race to the level of other races, and in the long term – by means of speculation – ensure dominance over them, and their complete submission. It is hardly necessary to explain this issue is of paramount importance. It would be impractical because of a few minor incidents to slow down or block the progress of the above-mentioned research. As for Master Degerlund, the Rissberg research group takes full responsibility for the maintenance of his health services. Master Degerlund’s has previously been diagnosed with narcissistic inclinations, a lack of empathy and light emotional disorders. In the period prior to the committing of these acts imputed to him, his condition worsened until the appearance of symptoms of bipolar disorder. It can be argued that at the time of the actions attributed to him, Master Degerlund was not in control of his emotional reactions and had to way to distinguish good from evil. It can be assumed that Master Degerlund was non compos mentis and had temporarily lost his sanity, so that justice for his action cannot be brought against him because impune est admittendum quod per furorem alicuius accidit.

  Master Degerlund has been place ad intrim instead into a secret detention, and is undergoing treatment and continuing his studies.

  In order to assume complete closure on the issue, we draw the Chapters attention to the person Constable Torquil who carried out the investigation into the incident in Temeria. Constance Torquil, is a bailiff of Gors Velen, formerly known as a conscientious officer and a dedicated guardian of the law, showed in the investigation of the incidents on the above mention villages, excessive bias and an unwanted investigation from our point of view. We could influence his superiors, to slightly temper his ardor. And if that does not work, it is necessary to collect on the Constable, his wife, parents, grandparents, children and extended family information about their personal life, past convictions, and affairs of a sexual preference. We recommend you contact the law firm “Codringer and Fenn” whose services I dare remind the Chapter we used three years ago in order to discredit and compromise the witness in the case known as “The Grain Scam”.

  The last item I bring to the attention of the Chapter is unfortunately the involvement of a witcher called Geralt of Rivia. He was an eye witness to the incidents in the settlements, we have reason to believe that he can link these events directly with to Master Degerlund. It will be necessary to also restrain this witcher, if he suddenly begins to dig to deep. Please not that due to the antisocial behavior, nihilism and emotional chaotic promiscuity of this witcher, it may be that one warning will not be sufficient and we will have to use extreme measures. The witcher is under constant supervision, and we are ready to go with such measures, of course, if the Chapter approves and recommends.

  It is the hope that the above explaination from the Chapter deems it sufficient to close the case, bene valere optamus, and left with the highest esteem.

  On behalf of the research group of Rissberg

  Semper fidelis vestrarum bona amica

  Biruta Anna Marquette Icarti manu propria

  Give blow for blow, scorn for scorn, doom for doom - with compound interest liberally added thereunto!

  Eye for eye, tooth for tooth, aye four-fold, a hundred-fold!

  Anton Szandor LaVey, The Satanic Bible

  Chapter Seventeen

  ‘In time,’ Frans Torquil said sadly. ‘we could reach a proposal, witcher. Now begin.’

  He lay on the bed, pale as a whitewash wall with hair wet with sweat and plastered to his forehead. It wore only a linen shirt, which immediately reminded Geralt of deathbed apparel. His left thigh from groin to knee was covered in a blood-soaked bandage.

  In the middle of the hut stood a table covered in a sheet. A man in a sleeveless black coat was laying tools out on the table one by one. Knives. Drills. Pliers. Saws.

  ‘My one regret,’ Torquil gritted his teeth. ‘Is that I could not catch them sons of bitches. The will of the gods was against me… And I will not.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘The same thing as Rogowizna and Pine Copse. But not as usual, at the very edge of the forest. And not in a clearing, but on the road. I ran into some travelers. Three killed, two children stolen. It so happened I was with a group, so we gave chase and soon saw them. Two big boys, huge, like bulls, and one a lousy hunchback. And the same hunchback fired a crossbow at me.’

  The constable clenched his teeth and gestured at his bandaged thigh.

  ‘I told them to leave me and to chase after them. But they didn’t listen, fools. Well, they got away, eventually. And I? So what if I was saved? If they cut of my leg today? It would have been better to me, if they had caught them and I could see their feet kicking as they dangle from a noose. But they disobeyed an order, fools. Now they sit over there, shame on them.’

  The constable’s subordinates, one and all occupied a bench by the wall. Sitting beside them was an old woman with grey hair.

  ‘We can start,’ said the man in the black coat. ‘The patient is on the table, tightly strapped. Outsiders are asked to leave the house.’

  ‘Wait a minute,’ Geralt straightened. ‘Who decided that amputation is necessary?’

  ‘I decided,’ the man in the black coat also straightened, but still had to look up to see Geralt’s face. ‘Master Lyuppi, I was specifically sent by the Bailiff of Gors Velen. An inspection of the wound shows that it is infected. I have to take the leg, there is no other way to save it.’

  ‘How much are you being paid for the operation?’

  ‘Twenty crowns.’

  ‘Here’s thirty,’ Geralt took from his bag three golden coins. ‘Collect your tools and belongings and return to the bailiff. If he asks, say that the patient is feeling better.’

  ‘But… I must protest…’

  ‘Pack and leave. Which of these words is not clear to you? And you, Grandma, here. Unwind the bandage.’

  ‘He,’ the old woman pointed to the court physician, ‘forbade me to touch the wounded. Because I look like a sorceress and a witch. He threatened to denounce me.’

  ‘Forget it. He is leaving.’

  The old lady, in which Geralt immediately recognised as an herbalist, obeyed. She carefully unwound the bandage. Torquil turned his head, hissing and moaning.

  ‘Geralt…’ moaned Frans. ‘What are you up to? The doctor says there is no other way… It is better to lose a leg than a life…’

  ‘Lies. Now shut up.’

  The wound looked foul, but Geralt had seen worse before. He pulled from his bag a box of elixirs. Master Lyuppi who had already packed his bags, turned and watched.

  ‘To turn to decoctions,’ Lyuppi said, ‘to magic and voodoo stuff. You’re a quack, and nothing more. As a doctor, I am forced to protest…’

  Geralt turned and looked at the medic. He left. Hastily. Stumbling on the doorstep.

  ‘You four, come here.’ The witcher took a cork from a bottle. ‘Hold him. Bite down with your teeth, Frans.’

  He poured an elixir that smelled strong onto the wound. The constable groaned in agony. Geralt wait
ed a minute, the poured on a second elixir. The second elixir foamed, hissed and emitted smoke. Torquil shouted, jerking his head, arched his back, rolled his eyes and lost consciousness.

  The old woman fished from an old pot, a handful of green salve, smeared a thick layer over a piece of folded fabric and covered the wound.

  ‘Larkspur,’ guessed Geralt. ‘A compress of larkspur, arnica and calendula. Well, Grandma, very good. Even more useful would be some St. John’s wort, oak bark…’

  ‘Do not presume,’ interrupted the old lady not looking up from the constable’s leg, ‘to teach me Herbalism. I, my boy, was treating people with herbs when you were still nursing at your mum’s teat. And you, dear, move away, give him more room. It stinks unbearably. You should change your socks. From time to time. Get out of the house, hear what I say?’

  ‘The leg will need to be immobilized. Strapped up with long splints…’

  ‘Don’t tell me how to do my job,’ she said. ‘Now out with you. Why are you standing there? What are you waiting for? Thanks for generously donating your elixirs? The promise that he’ll never forget you while he lives?’

  ‘I want to ask him about something.’

  ‘Swear to me, Geralt…’ said Frans Torquil unexpectedly, ‘that you’ll find them. That you will not forgive them…’

  ‘Let him sleep, he is delirious with fever. And you, witcher, go and wait before the hut.’

  Geralt waited, but not for long. The old lady came out, tightened her skirt and straightened a lopsided wreath. She sat down on the bench next to him. She rubbed her foot on the other foot. Her feet were unusually small.

  ‘He is asleep,’ she said. ‘Perhaps he’ll survive, if nothing bad happens, ugh. You saved his leg, witcher. The lame forever remain on the horse, methinks, sitting is better with two legs, not one. He he.’

  She reached into her bodice and there was a strong smell of herbs. She removed a small wooden box, and opened it. After a moment’s hesitation, she offered it to Geralt.