Andrzej Sapkowski - [Witcher 05]

by The Tower of the Swallow (fan translation) (epub)

  ‘Order them to stop,’ whispered the witcher. ‘Honourable flaminica… Do not burn… One of these bandits has information important to me…’

  The flaminica laid a hand on his chest. Her eyes were kind and sweet.

  ‘Oh no,’ she said dryly. ‘Not at all. I do not believe in the institution of the crown witness. Providing an offender impunity from punishment is immoral.’

  ‘Stop!’ cried the witcher, ‘Do not light the fire! Stop…’

  The flaminica made a brief gesture with her hand and the tree creatures, who were still around, stomping their roots, reached down and put a branch on the witcher’s shoulder. Geralt sat down heavily.

  ‘Set it on fire!’ the flaminica ordered. ‘Sorry, witcher, but it is as it should be. We Druids, we value and honour life in all its forms. But to leave criminals alive is simple nonsense. Criminals are only afraid of fear. So we’ll give them a lesson in fear. In the hope that we will not have to give a similar lesson, ever again.’

  The brushwood between the crossbar immediately caught flame. The sound from inside the wicker hag made his hair stand on end. Of course it was not possible, but Geralt still seemed to hear, above the roar and crackle of the fire the sound of the half-elf Schirru screaming.

  He was right, he thought, death is not always the same.

  And then, after a desperately long time, the stack exploded and the wicker hag was caught in a roaring furnace in which nothing could survive.

  ‘Your medallion, Geralt,’ Angouleme said, standing next to him.

  ‘What?’ he coughed because his throat was tight. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Your silver wolf medallion. Schirru had it with him. Now you’ve lost it for good, it would have melted in the heat.’

  ‘I cannot be helped,’ he said after a moment, looking into the cornflower eyes of the flaminica. ‘I’m not a witcher. I ceased to be a witcher. In Thanedd at the Tower of the Seagull. In Brokilon. At the bridge over the Yaruga. In the cave in the Gorgon. And here in the forest of Myrkvid. No, I’m not a witcher. So I have to learn to live without a Witcher’s Medallion.’

  The king loved his wife, the queen, without limit, and she loved him with all her heart. Something like that could only end in disaster.

  Flourens Delannoy, Fairytales and Stories

  Delannoy, Flourens (1432-1510) – Linguist and historian. Born in Vicovaro, secretary and librarian to the imperial court from 1460 to 1475. Tireless researcher into legends and folklore, author of numerous important treatises considered to be seminal works of linguistic history and literature from the northern regions of the Empire. Among his most important works, one could cite: Myths and Legends of the Nordlings, Fairytales and Stories, Surprise or Myth of Elder Blood, The Witcher Saga, as well as The Witcher and the Witcheress, or a search unending. Beginning in 1476, he officiates as professor at the academy of Castell Graupian where he dies in 1520.

  Effenberg and Talbot, Encyclopaedia Maxima Mundi, tome IV

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The wind blew from the sea, the sails flapped. A tiny drizzle of hail pounded painfully into his face. The water from the Grand Canal was oily, agitated by the wind and sprinkled with rain drops.

  ‘Please, sir, this way. The ship is waiting.’

  Dijkstra sighed, he was sick of travelling by sea, he was pleased with the few moments when he could feel under his feet the stable embankment and stones and the thought of going back to the rocking deck made him sick. But what was he going to do. Lan Exeter, the winter capital of Kovir, differed significantly from other capitals in the world, In the port of Lan Exeter travellers who came by sea landed on the stone of the pier only to embark immediately on the next vessel, a slender ship with a high bow and a much lower stern, driven by a multitude of oars. Lan Exeter was built on water, on the broad estuary of the River Tango. Instead of streets, the city had canals, and all communication from the city was carried out by boats.

  He went aboard and was greeted by the Redanian ambassador, who was waiting for him. They moved away from the dock, the oars hitting the water in unison, the ship moved, picking up speed. The Redanian ambassador remained silent.

  An ambassador, Dijkstra thought instinctively. How many years since Redania had sent an ambassador to Kovir? Over one hundred and twenty. And over one hundred and twenty years since Kovir and Poviss shared a border with Redania. It was not always so.

  From the beginning of time Redania treated the countries north of the Gulf of Praxeda, as their own fiefdom. Poviss and Kovir were, as it was stated in the court of Tretogor, jewels in the crown. They were ruled there by Counts who called themselves Trojdenians, who descended or claimed to be descended from a common ancestor, Trojden. Trojden was the brother of the king of Redania, Radovid I, later known as the Great. Already in his youth, Trojden was considered to be slimy and extremely nasty. It was frightening to think what would become of him over the years. King Radovid was not an exception in this regard and hated his brother like the plague. So he named him Count of Kovir to get rid of him, sending him as far away as possible. And there was no further place than Kovir.

  Count Trojden of Kovir was formally a vassal of Redania, but was an atypical vassal that did not carry any burden or feudal obligations. It was not even required of him to take the ceremonial oath of allegiance, only a promise to do no harm. Some said that Radovid took pity on him, knowing that the ‘Jewel in the Crown’ could not afford tribute or the vassalage. Meanwhile others claimed that Radovid simply did not want to see the young Count, and was dizzy just thinking that his brother could appear in person at Tretogor with money or military aid. What was the truth, no one knew, but either way, it stayed the same. Many years after the death of Radovid I, Redania continued to enforce the laws enacted in the days of the great King. First, the county of Kovir was a vassal, but does not have to pay or serve. Second, the allowance that any succession is entirely at the discretion of the House of Trojden. Third, Tretogor does not mix in the affairs of the House of Trojden. Fourth, Members of the House of Trojden are not invited to Tretogor for the celebrations of national holidays. Fifth, or any other occasion.

  In short, few knew anything about what happened in the North, let alone cared about it. In Redania arrived, mainly through Kaedwen, news of the Count of Kovir’s conflicts with minor lords of the North. Alliances and wars with Hengfors, Malleore, Creyden, Talgar and other countries with difficult to remember names. Someone had conquered someone else and had absorbed them, someone had come close to someone with a dynastic tie, someone had defeated someone and demanded tribute. In short, nobody knew who, whom or why.

  However, news of wars and struggles in the North attracted crowds of thugs, adventures, sensation seekers and other restless spirits in search of booty and rich opportunities. These came from all over the world, even from as far away as Cintra or Rivia. But mostly they came from Redania and Kaedwen. There were even desertions from the Kaedwen cavalry platoons that had left for Kovir. Rumour even said that at the head of one of these was the famous Aidden, the rebellious and illegitimate daughter of the King of Kaedwen. In Redania it was even said that in the court of Ard Carraigh they played with the idea of occupying the northern countries and snatching away the Redanian crown. Some have even started yelling about the need for armed intervention.

  However, Tretogor announced ostentatiously that they were not interested in the North. As recognised by the royal jurists, the law in force was that of reciprocity, the principality of Kovir had no obligations to the crown and the crown offered no help to Kovir. Especially since Kovir never asked for any help.

  Meanwhile in Kovir and Poviss the wars had left the North stronger and powerful. Though there were few who knew it. The clearest sign of the growing power of the North was its increasing export activity. For decades it was said that the only wealth of Kovir was sand and seawater. The joke ceased to be a joke when with the production of salt factories; Kovir practically monopolized the world market for glass and salt.

&nbs
p; But while hundreds of people were drinking from vessels with the sign of Kovir’s factories and seasoning their soup with salt, Poviss still remained in the consciousness of the people a country incredibly distant, inaccessible, harsh and hostile.

  In Redania and Kaedwen, instead of someone saying ‘to hell’ they said ‘to Poviss.’ ‘If you do not like me,’ says the master of wayward journeyman, ‘there is a clear road to Kovir.’ ‘Do not use those Kovir manners here!’ chastise a professor shouting at his unruly students. ‘Go to Poviss’ cries the son of a farmer who criticizes the ancient plough of his grandfather and the fallow system.

  Whoever did not like the ancient order, were told there was a clear road to Kovir.

  Recipients of these messages slowly began to reflect and soon realised that, indeed, the way to Kovir and Poviss lacked any obstacles. A second wave of migrants headed north. And as before the wave was made up of strange and unsatisfied people who were different and wanted other things. This time, however, they were not just adventurers without a homeland and a home.

  To the north went scientists who stood behind their theories, even if they were all identified as unrealistic and crazy. Engineers and inventors, who believed that despite the general view they could construct revolutionary new machinery and equipment. Wizards, who considered using magic to construct levees sacrilege. Merchants for whom the prospect of increased profits were able to overcome the rigid boundaries, static and short-sighted risks. Farmers and ranchers who were convinced that even the poorest soils could be a fruitful field and you could always raise a type of animal that will thrive in that climate.

  To the north also went miners and geologists for the severity of the wild mountains and hills in Kovir meant a sure sign that if the on the surface was so much poverty then the interior must be hidden wealth. For Nature loves balance.

  Beneath the surface was indeed wealth.

  A quarter of a century passed, and Kovir benefited from its mineral resources as much as Redania, Aedirn and Kaedwen together. The extraction and processing of iron ore was only surpassed my Mahakam. However, even in Mahakam, Kovir imported precious metals to produce alloys. In Kovir and Poviss they had a quarter of the global extraction of silver ore, nickel, lead, tin and zinc, half of the extraction of copper and native cooper and three-quarters of the extraction of manganese ore, chrome, titanium and tungsten, and the same of metals which only appeared in pure form, platinum, ferroaurum and dimeritium.

  And more than eighty percent of the world’s gold extraction.

  With the gold, Kovir and Poviss bought all that was not growing or breeding in the north. And all the Kovir and Poviss did not produce. Not because they could not or did not know how. But it was not profitable. The craftsmen of Kovir and Poviss, the sons or grandsons who came there with a bundle on their back, now earn four times more than their counterpart in Redania or Temeria.

  Kovir traded and wanted to trade with the whole world on an increasing scale. But was unable.

  Radovid III was crowned king of Redania. Who, after his great grandfather Radovid the Great inherited the name, and the cunning and greed. The king, by his toadies and flatterers was called the Bold, and by all the others the Red, realised what no one before him had wanted to realise. Why if there is massive commerce in Kovir is Redania not seeing a penny? Because Kovir is but an insignificant county, a fiefdom, a small jewel in the crown of Redania. It was high time the vassal Kovir started to serve its sovereign!

  Soon came a good opportunity, Redania got into a border conflict with Aedirn, as usual it was over the Pontar valley. Radovid III decided to intervene militarily and began to make the necessary preparations. He enacted a special tax for the war called the ‘Pontar tithe.’ All the subjects and vassals were to pay this. Everyone. This included Kovir. The redhead rubbed his hands together. Ten percent of Kovir’s revenue, this was a good thing!

  To Pont Vanis, which was considered to be a small village with a wooden palisade, went the Redanian messengers. After returning to the king they brought shocking news.

  Pont Vanis was not a village. It was a huge city, the summer capital of the kingdom of Kovir, whose ruler, King Gedovius, sent the king of Redania the following message:

  The kingdom of Kovir is nobody’s vassal. The pretensions and claims of Tretogor are unfounded and are based on a law that is dead letter, which never had any effect. Tretogor’s kings were never sovereign to Kovir because Kovir’s lords, which is easy to check the records, never paid tribute to Tretogor or fulfilled military obligations nor, more importantly, were never invited to the celebrations of national holidays. Or any other.

  King Gedovius of Kovir passed to the messengers his apologies but he could not recognise King Radovid as his sovereign lord, let alone pay a tithe. The same is true for all of the subjects of Kovir as they owed their allegiance to the lordship of Kovir.

  In short, let Tretogor guard their own nose and not put it into the affairs of Kovir, an independent kingdom.

  The Redhead broke out in a cold rage. Independent kingdom? Foreign? All right, then we’ll deal with Kovir as a hostile foreign kingdom.

  Redania, Kaedwen and Temeria, introduced to Kovir strict retaliatory measures. A Kovir merchant travelling south had to display their goods, like it or not, in any city in Redania and sell them. Or return home. The same was applied to merchants from the south travelling to Kovir.

  For goods that merchants transported by sea without landing in Redanian or Temerian ports, Redania demanded custom duties worthy of a pirate. Kovirian boats, of course, would not pay and only paid when they failed to flee. This game of cat and mouse that began in the sea soon came to an incident. A Redanian patrol boat tried to arrest a Kovir merchant but then appeared two frigates from Kovir, the patrol boat was set ablaze. And went down with all hands.

  That was the last straw. King Radovid the Red decided to teach his disobedient vassal manners. A Redanian army composed of four thousand men crossed the river Braa and the expeditionary force of Kaedwen moved towards Caingorn.

  After one week, the two thousand Redanians that had survived the crossing of the Braa in the opposite direction and the miserable remains of the Kaedwen army retreated home through the passes of the Mountains of Milan.

  The standing army of Kovir was made up of twenty-five thousand professionals skilled in war-and-robbery, mercenaries recruited from the farthest corners of the world, unconditionally loyal to the crown of Kovir by their unprecedented generosity and a pension guaranteed by contract. They were willing to face any danger for rewards of generosity never seen for each battle won. These rich solders were led into battle by experienced, talented, and now very rich, commanders, whom Benda of Kaedwen and Radovid III knew very well. They were officers who until recently had served in their own armies, but had unexpectedly asked for retirement and travelled abroad.

  Red was no fool, he was able to learn from his mistakes. He calmed the agitated generals demanding a crusade; he did not listen to the merchants, who demanded an economic blockade, to appease Benda of Kaedwen, who wanted revenge for the destruction of his elite units. Subsequently, he initiated peace talks. Even the humiliation did not deter him, a bitter pill that he had to swallow – Kovir agreed to the negotiations but in its own territory, Lan Exeter. The mountain had come to the prophet.

  They went to Lan Exeter as supplicants, thought Dijkstra, wrapping his cloak around him. As humiliated beggars. Just as I am today.

  The Redanian fleet entered into the Gulf of Praxeda and headed towards the beaches of Kovir. From the deck of the flagship, Alata, Radovid the Red, Benda of Kaedwen and the prelate of Novigrad, who joined them in the role of mediator, watched with amazement the sea wall rising from the sea and on which stood the squat walls and towers of the fortress that defended the entrance to the town of Pont Vanis. And sailing northward, towards the mouth of the Tango, the kings saw port after port, shipyard after shipyard and wharf after wharf. They saw a forest of masts and an ocean of white sails that hurt
the eyes. Kovir, as it turned out, had a ready remedy for the blockade, retaliatory measures and the customs war. Kovir was evidently ready to rule the seas.

  The Alata entered the wide mouth of the Tango and dropped anchor in the stone jaws of the outer harbour. But the kings, to their astonishment, were not expecting another trip by water. The city of Lan Exeter had no streets, but canals. Among them was the Grand Canal, the main artery and centre of the metropolis, which led directly from the port to the residence of the monarch. The Kings were transferred to a galley decorated with garlands and scarlet and gold with coat of arms, which the Red and Benda, to their amazement, recognised the eagle of Redania and the unicorn of Kaedwen.

  As they sailed down the Grand Canal, the kings and their cohorts looked around and remained silent. Actually it would be better to say that they were speechless. They were mistaken in thinking that they knew what was wealth and splendour, they were surprised by the manifestations of wealth and the demonstration of luxury.

  Sailing along the Grand Canal, they pasted an imposing edifice of the Admiralty and the office of the Guild of Merchants. They sailed along the promenade, filled with a colourful and richly dressed crowd. They sailed between a row of noble palaces and mansions of merchants that were reflected in the canal water in a rainbow of beautifully decorated facades but amazingly narrow. In Lan Exeter, they paid a tax for the front of the house, the wider the front, the progressively higher the tax.

  The only building with a lavishly wide front was the great winter residence of the monarch of Kovir, the Palace of Ensenada. On the stairs leading from the palace to the banks of the canal was waiting a welcoming committee made up of the royal couple, the monarch of Kovir, Gedovius, and his wife, Gemma. Their Majesties welcomed the guests politely, respectfully… And unusually. ‘Dear Uncle,’ Gedovius said to Radovid, ‘Dear Grandfather,’ Gemma smiled towards Benda. Gedovius was naturally a Trojdenian, while Gemma, as it happened, came from the lineage of the rebellious Aideen, who had fled Kaedwen and in whose veins ran the blood of the kings of Ard Carraigh.