The Last Wish, Introducing The Witcher Read Free

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. Rumor 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-defense—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 neighborhood. 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 night. Without a word.”
    Geralt's expression changed a little, in what was probably supposed to be a smile.
    “Those wise men,” he said, “they still have the money, no doubt? Witchers don't take payment in advance.”
    “No doubt they still do,” said Velerad.
    “Does the rumor say how much they offer?”
    Velerad bared his teeth in a smile. “Some say eight hundred—”
    Geralt shook his head.
    “Others,” murmured the castellan, “talk of a thousand.”
    “Not much when you bear in mind that rumor likes to exaggerate. And the king is offering three thousand.”
    “Don't forget about the betrothal,” Velerad mocked. “What are you talking about? It's obvious you won't get the three thousand.”
    “How's it obvious?”
    Velerad thumped the table. “Geralt, do not spoil my impression of witchers! This has been going on for more than seven years! The striga is finishing off up to fifty people a year, fewer now people are avoiding the palace. Oh no, my friend, I believe in magic. I’ve seen a great deal and I believe, to a certain extent, in the abilities of wizards and witchers. But all this nonsense about lifting the spell was made up by a hunchbacked, snotty old man who'd lost his mind on his hermit's diet. It's nonsense which no one but Foltest