The Last Wish (33 page)

... Is it true?'

'Absolutely. You don't remember?'

'I walked out into the street . . . People were looking at me . . . Then . . . Then there was a shop—'

'A pawnbroker's.' The elf lowered his voice. 'You went into the pawnbroker's. As soon as you walked in, you punched the owner in the teeth. Hard. Very hard.'

The witcher ground his teeth and cursed.

'The pawnbroker fell,' Chireadan continued quietly. 'And you kicked him several times in delicate places. The assistant ran to help his master and you threw him out of the window, into the street.'

'I fear,' muttered Geralt, 'that wasn't the end of it.'

'Your fears are well founded. You left the pawnbroker's and marched down the centre of the street, jostling passersby and shouting some nonsense about a lady's honour. There was quite a crowd following you, Errdil, Vratimir and I among them. Then you stopped in front of Laurelnose the apothecary's house, went in, and were back in the street a moment later, dragging Laurelnose by the leg. And you made something of a speech to the crowd.'

'What sort of a speech?'

'To put it simply, you stated that a self-respecting man shouldn't ever call a professional harlot a whore because it's base and repugnant, while using the word whore to describe a woman one has never knocked off or paid any money for doing so, is childish and punishable. The punishment, you announced, would be dealt there and then, and it would be fitting for a spoilt child. You thrust the apothecary's head between his knees, pulled down his pants and thrashed his arse with a belt.'

'Go on, Chireadan. Go on. Don't spare me.'

'You beat Laurelnose on the backside and the apothecary howled and sobbed, called to gods and men alike for help, begged for

mercy - he even promised to be better in the future, but you clearly didn't believe him. Then several armed bandits, who in Rinde go by the name of guards, came running up.'

'And,' Geralt nodded, 'that's when I made a hit at the authorities?'

'Not at all. You made a hit at them much earlier. Both the pawnbroker and Laurelnose are on the town council. Both had called for Yennefer to be thrown out of town. Not only did they vote for it at the council but they badmouthed her in taverns and spread vulgar gossip.'

'I guessed that. Carry on. You stopped when the guards appeared. They threw me in here?'

'They wanted to. Oh, Geralt, what a sight it was. What you did to them, it's hard to describe.

They had swords, whips, clubs, hatchets, and you only had an ash cane with a pommel, which you'd snatched from some dandy. And when they were all lying on the ground, you walked on. Most of us knew where you were going.'

'I'd be happy to know too.'

'You were going to the temple. Because the priest Krepp, who's also a member of the council, dedicated a lot of time to Yennefer in his sermons. You promised him a lesson in respect for the fair sex. When you spoke of him you omitted his title and threw in other descriptions, to the delight of the children trailing after you.'

'Aha,' muttered Geralt. 'So blasphemy came into it, too. What else? Desecration of the temple?'

'No. You didn't manage to get in there. An entire unit of municipal guards, armed - it seemed to me - with absolutely everything they could lay their hands on in the armoury apart from a catapult, was waiting in front of the temple. It looked as if they were going to slaughter you, but you didn't reach them. You suddenly grasped your head with both hands and fainted.'

'You don't have to finish. So, Chireadan, how were you imprisoned?'

'Several guards ran to attack you when you fell. I got into a dispute with them. I got a blow over the head with a mace and

came to here, in this hole. No doubt they'll accuse me of taking part in an anti-human conspiracy.'

'Since we're talking about accusations,' the witcher ground his teeth again, 'what's in store for us, do you think?'

'If Neville, the mayor, gets back from the capital on time,' muttered Chireadan, 'who knows . ,

. he's a friend. But if he doesn't, then sentence will be passed by the councillors, including Laurelnose and the pawnbroker, of course. And that means—'

The elf made a brief gesture across his neck. Despite the darkness the gesture left little doubt as to Chireadan's meaning. The witcher didn't reply. The thieves mumbled to each other and the tiny old man, locked up for his innocence, seemed to be asleep.

'Great,' said Geralt finally, and cursed vilely. 'Not only will I hang, but I'll do so with the knowledge that I'm the cause of your death, Chireadan. And Dandilion's, too, no doubt. No, don't interrupt. I know it's Yennefer's prank, but I'm the guilty one. It's my foolishness. She deceived me, took the piss out of me, as the dwarves say.'

'Hmm . . .' muttered the elf. 'Nothing to add, nothing to take away. I warned you against her.

Dammit, I warned you, and I turned out to be just as big an — pardon the word — idiot.

You're worried that I'm here because of you, but it's quite the opposite. You're locked up because of me. I could have stopped you in the street, overpowered you, not allowed— But I didn't. Because I was afraid that when the spell she'd cast on you had dispelled, you'd go back and . . . harm her. Forgive me.'

'I forgive you, because you've no idea how strong that spell was. My dear elf, I can break an ordinary spell within a few minutes and I don't faint while doing it. You wouldn't have managed to break Yennefer's spell and you would have had difficulty overpowering me.

Remember the guards.'

'I wasn't thinking about you. I repeat: I was thinking about her.'

'Chireadan?'

'Yes?'

'Do you . . . Do you—'

'I don't like grand words,' interrupted the elf, smiling sadly. 'I'm greatly, shall we say, fascinated by her. No doubt you're surprised that anyone could be fascinated by her?'

Geralt closed his eyes to recall an image which, without using grand words, fascinated him inexplicably.

'No, Ghireadan,' he said. 'I'm not surprised.'

Heavy steps sounded in the corridor, and a clang of metal. The dungeon was filled with the shadows of four guards. A key grated. The innocent old man leapt away from the bars like a lynx and hid among the criminals.

'So soon?' The elf, surprised, half-whispered. 'I thought it would take longer to build the scaffold . . .'

One of the guards, a tall, strapping fellow, bald as a knee, his mug covered with bristles like a boar, pointed at the witcher.

'That one,' he said briefly.

Two others grabbed Geralt, hauled him up and pressed him against the wall. The thieves squeezed into their corner; the long-nosed grandad buried himself in the straw. Chireadan wanted to jump up, but he fell to the dirt floor, retreating from the short sword pointed at his chest.

The bald guard stood in front of the witcher, pulled his sleeves up and rubbed his fist.

'Councillor Laurelnose,' he said, 'told me to ask if you're enjoying our little dungeon. Perhaps there's something you need? Perhaps the chill is getting to you? Eh?'

Geralt did not answer. Nor could he kick the bald man, as the guards who restrained him were standing on his feet in their heavy boots.

The bald man took a short swing and punched the witcher in the stomach. It didn't help to tense his muscles in defence. Geralt, catching his breath with an effort, looked at the buckle of his own belt for a while, then the guards hauled him up again.

'Is there nothing you need?' the guard continued, stinking of onions and rotting teeth. 'The councillor will be pleased that you have no complaints.'

Another blow, in the same place. The witcher choked and would have puked, but he had nothing to throw up.

The bald guard turned sideways. He was changing hands.

Wham! Geralt looked at the buckle of his belt again. Although it seemed strange, there was no hole above it through which the wall could be seen.

'Well?' The guard backed away a little, no doubt planning to take a wider swing. 'Don't you have any wishes? Mr Laurelnose asked whether you have any. But why aren't you saying anything? Tongue-tied? I'll get it straight for you!'

Wham!

Geralt didn't faint this time either. And he had to faint because he cared for his internal organs. In order to faint, he had to force the guard to—

The guard spat, bared his teeth and rubbed his fist again.

'Well? No wishes at all?'

'Just one . . .' moaned the witcher, raising his head with difficulty. 'That you burst, you son-of-a-whore.'

The bald guard ground his teeth, stepped back and took a swing - this time, according to Geralt's plan, aiming for his head. But the blow never came. The guard suddenly gobbled like a turkey, grew red, grabbed his stomach with both hands, howled, roared with pain . . .

And burst.

'And what am I to do with you?'

A blindingly bright ribbon of lightning cut the darkened sky outside the window, followed by a sharp, drawn-out crash of thunder. The downpour was getting harder as the storm cloud passed over Rinde.

Geralt and Chireadan, seated on a bench under a huge tapestry depicting the Prophet Lebiodus pasturing his sheep, remained

silent, modestly hanging their heads. Mayor Neville was pacing the chamber, snorting and panting with anger.

'You bloody, shitty sorcerers!' he yelled suddenly, standing still. 'Are you persecuting my town, or what? Aren't there any other towns in the world?'

The elf and witcher remained silent.

'To do something like—' the mayor choked. 'To turn the warder . . . Like a tomato! To pulp!

To red pulp! It's inhuman!'

'Inhuman and godless,' repeated the priest, also present. 'So inhuman that even a fool could guess who's behind it. Yes, mayor. We both know Chireadan and the man here, who calls himself a witcher, wouldn't have enough Force to do this. It is all the work of Yennefer, that witch cursed by the gods!' There was a clap of thunder outside, as if confirming the priest's words. 'It's her and no one else,' continued Krepp. 'There's no question about it. Who, if not Yennefer, would want revenge upon Laurelnose?'

'Hehehe,' chuckled the mayor suddenly. 'That's the thing I'm least angry about. Laurelnose has been scheming against me; he's been after my office. And now the people aren't going to respect him. When they remember how he got it in the arse—'

'That's all it needs, Mr Neville, you to applaud the crime,' Krepp frowned. 'Let me remind you that had I not thrown an exorcism at the witcher, he would have raised his hand to strike me and the temple's majesty—'

'And that's because you spoke vilely about her in your sermons, Krepp. Even Berrant complained about you. But what's true is true. Do you hear that, you scoundrels?' The mayor turned to Geralt and Chireadan again. 'Nothing justifies what you've done! I don't intend to tolerate such things here! That's enough, now get on with it, tell me everything, tell me what you have for your defence, because if you don't, I swear by all the relics that I'll lead you such a dance as you won't forget to your dying day! Tell me everything, right now, as you would in a confessional!'

Chireadan sighed deeply and looked meaningfully and pleadingly at the witcher.

Geralt also sighed, then cleared his throat. And he recounted everything. Well, almost everything.

'So that's it,' said the priest after a moment's silence. 'A fine kettle of fish. A genie released from captivity. And an enchantress who has her sights on the genie. Not a bad arrangement.

This could end badly, very badly.'

'What's a genie?' asked Neville. 'And what does this Yennefer want?'

'Enchanters,' explained Krepp, 'draw their power from the forces of nature, or to put it more accurately, from the so-called Four Elements or Principles, commonly called the natural forces. Air, Water, Fire and Earth. Each of these elements has its own Dimension which is called a Plane in the jargon used by enchanters. There's a Water Plane, Fire Plane and so on.

These Dimensions, which are beyond our reach, are inhabited by what are called genies—'

'That's what they're called in legends,' interrupted the witcher. 'Because as far as I know—'

'Don't interrupt,' Krepp cut him short. 'The fact that you don't know much was evident in your tale, witcher. So be quiet and listen to what those wiser than you have to say. Going back to the genies, there are four sorts, just as there are four Planes. Djinns are air creatures; marides are associated with the principle of water; afreet are Fire genies and d'ao, the genies of Earth—'

'You've run away with yourself, Krepp,' Neville butted in. 'This isn't a temple school, don't lecture us. Briefly, what does Yennefer want with this genie?'

'A genie like this, mayor, is a living reservoir of magical energy. A sorcerer who has a genie at their beck and call can direct that energy in the form of spells. They don't have to draw the Force from Nature, the genie does it for them. The power of such an enchanter is enormous, close to omnipotence—'

'Somehow I've never heard of a wizard who can do everything,' contradicted Neville. 'On the contrary, the power of most of them is clearly exaggerated. They can't do this, they can't—'

'The enchanter Stammelford,' interrupted the priest, once more taking on the tone and poise of an academic lecturer, 'once moved a mountain because it obstructed the view from his tower. Nobody has managed to do the like, before or since.

Because Stammelford, so they say, had the services of a d'ao, an Earth genie. There are records of deeds accomplished by other magicians on a similar scale. Enormous waves and catastrophic rains are certainly the work of marides. Fiery columns, fires and explosions the work of afreets—'

'Whirlwinds, hurricanes, flights above the earth,' muttered Geralt, 'Geoffrey Monck.'

'Exactly. I see you do know something after all.' Krepp glanced at him more kindly. 'Word has it old Monck had a way of forcing a djinn to serve him. There were rumours that he had more than one. He was said to keep them in bottles and make use of them when need arose. Three wishes from each genie, then it's free and escapes into its own dimension.'