The Last Wish Read Free

been for seven years, Geralt, because she was born around fourteen years ago.
    We've had a few other worries, like war with Vizimir of Novigrad - fought for real, understandable reasons - over the border posts, not for some princess or marriage alliance.
    Foltest sporadically hints at marriage and looks over portraits from neighbouring courts, which he then throws down the privy. And every now and then this mania seizes hold of him again, and he sends horsemen out to look for new sorcerers. His promised reward, the three thousand, has attracted any number of cranks, stray knights, even a shepherd known throughout the whole region as a cretin, may he rest in peace. But the striga is still doing well.
    Every now and again she gets her teeth into someone. You get used to it. And at least those heroes trying to
    reverse the spell have a use - the beast stuffs herself on the spot and doesn't roam beyond her palace. Foltest has a new palace, of course, quite a fine one.'
    'In seven years,' Geralt raised his head, 'in seven years, no one has settled the matter?'
    'Well, no.' Velerad's gaze penetrated the witcher. 'Because the matter can't be settled. We have to come to terms with it, especially Foltest, our gracious and beloved ruler, who will keep nailing these proclamations up at crossroads. Although there are fewer volunteers now. There was one recently, but he insisted on the three thousand in advance. So we put him in a sack and threw him in the lake.'
    'There is still no shortage of fraudsters then.'
    'No, far from it,' the castellan agreed without taking his eyes off the witcher. 'That's why you mustn't demand gold in advance when you go to the palace. If you go.'
    I'll go.'
    'It's up to you. But remember my advice. As we're talking of the reward, there has been word recently about the second part of it. I mentioned it to you: the princess for a wife. I don't know who made it up, but if the striga looks the way they say then it's an exceptionally grim joke.
    Nevertheless there's been no lack of fools racing to the palace for the chance of joining the royal family. Two apprentice shoemakers, to be precise. Why are shoemakers so foolish, Geralt?'
    'I don't know. And witchers, castellan? Have they tried?'
    'There were a few. But when they heard the spell was to be lifted and the striga wasn't to be killed they mostly shrugged and left. That's one of the reasons why my esteem for witchers has grown, Geralt. And one came along, younger than you - I forget his name, if he gave it at all. He tried.'
    'And?'
    'The fanged princess spread his entrails over a considerable distance.'
    Geralt nodded. 'That was all of them?' 'There was one other.'
    Velerad remained silent for a while, and the witcher didn't urge him on.
    'Yes,' the castellan said finally. 'There was one more. At first, when Foltest threatened him with the noose if he killed or harmed the striga, he laughed and started packing his belongings. But then—' Velerad leaned across the table, lowered his voice to almost a whisper. '—then he undertook the task. You see, Geralt, there are some wise men in Wyzim, in high positions, who've had enough of this whole affair. Rumour has it these men persuaded the witcher, in secret, not to fuss around with spells but to batter the striga to death and tell the king the spell had failed, that his dear daughter had been killed in self-defence - an accident at work. The king, of course, would be furious and refuse to pay an oren in reward. But that would be an end to it. The witty witcher replied we could chase strigas ourselves for nothing.
    Well, what could we do? We collected money, bargained . . . but nothing came of it.'
    Geralt raised his eyebrows.
    'Nothing,' repeated Velerad. 'The witcher didn't want to try that first night. He trudged around, lay in wait, wandered about the neighbourhood. Finally, they say, he saw the striga in action, as she does not clamber from her crypt just to stretch her legs. He saw her and scarpered that