The Last Wish (18 page)

'To a certain extent. Let's say, then, that I choose to serve. Surely I should know what that entails?'

'No. Only a command has to be specific and explicit. A paid service is different. I'm interested in the results, nothing more. How you achieve it is your business.'

Geralt, raising his head, met Mousesack's penetrating black gaze. The druid of Skellige, without taking his eyes from the witcher, was crumbling bread in his hands and dropping it as if lost in thought. Geralt looked down. There on the oak table, crumbs, grains of buckwheat and fragments of lobster shell were moving like ants. They were forming runes which joined up - for a moment - into a word. A question.

Mousesack waited without taking his eyes off him. Geralt, almost imperceptibly, nodded. The druid lowered his eyelids and, with a stony face, swiped the crumbs off the table.

'Honourable gentlemen!' called the herald. 'Pavetta of Cintra!'

The guests grew silent, turning to the stairs.

Preceded by the castellan and a fair-haired page in a scarlet doublet, the princess descended slowly, her head lowered. The colour of her hair was identical to her mother's - ash-grey - but she wore it braided into two thick plaits which reached below her waist. Pavetta was adorned only with a tiara ornamented with a delicately worked jewel and a belt of tiny golden links which girded her long silvery-blue dress at the hips.

Escorted by the page, herald, castellan and Vissegerd, the princess occupied the empty chair between Drogodar and Eist Tuir-seach. The knightly islander immediately filled her goblet and entertained her with conversation. Geralt didn't notice her answer with more than a word.

Her eyes were permanently lowered, hidden behind her long lashes even during the noisy toasts raised to her around the table. There was no doubt her beauty had impressed the guests

- Crach an Craite stopped shouting and stared at Pavetta in silence, even forgetting his tankard of beer.

Windhalm of Attre was also devouring the princess with his eyes, flushing shades of red as though only a few grains in the hourglass separated them from their wedding night.

Coodcoodak and the brothers from Strept were studying the girl's petite face, too, with suspicious concentration.

'Aha,' said Calanthe quietly, clearly pleased. 'And what do you say, Geralt? The girl has taken after her mother. It's even a shame to waste her on that red-haired lout, Crach. The only hope is that the pup might grow into someone with Eist Tuirseach's class. It's the same blood, after all. Are you listening, Geralt? Cintra has to form an alliance with Skellige because the interest of the state demands it. My daughter has to marry the right person. Those are the results you must ensure me.'

'I have to ensure that? Isn't your will alone sufficient for it to happen?'

'Events might take such a turn that it won't be sufficient.'

'What can be stronger than your will?'

'Destiny.'

'Aha. So I, a poor witcher, am to face down a destiny which is stronger than the royal will. A witcher fighting destiny! What irony!'

'Yes, Geralt? What irony?'

'Never mind. Your Majesty, it seems the service you demand borders on the impossible.'

'If it bordered on the possible,' Calanthe drawled, 'I would manage it myself. I wouldn't need the famous Geralt of Rivia. Stop being so clever. Everything can be dealt with - it's only a question of price. Bloody hell, there must be a figure on your witchers' pricelist for work that borders on the impossible. I can guess one, and it isn't low. You ensure me my outcome and I will give you what you ask.'

'What did you say?'

'I'll give you whatever you ask for. And I don't like being told to repeat myself. I wonder, witcher, do you always try to dissuade your employers as strongly as you are me? Time is slipping away. Answer, yes or no?'

'Yes.'

'That's better. That's better, Geralt. Your answers are much closer to the ideal. They're becoming more like those I expect when I ask a question. So. Discreetly stretch your left hand out and feel behind my throne.'

Geralt slipped his hand under the yellow-blue drapery. Almost immediately he felt a sword secured to the leather-upholstered backrest. A sword well-known to him.

Your Majesty,' he said quietly, 'not to repeat what I said earlier about killing people, you do realise that a sword alone will not defeat destiny?'

'I do,' Calanthe turned her head away. 'A witcher is also necessary. As you see, I took care of that.'

'Your Maje—'

'Not another word, Geralt. We've been conspiring for too long. They're looking at us, and Eist is getting angry. Talk to the castellan. Have something to eat. Drink, but not too much. I want you to have a steady hand.'

He obeyed. The queen joined a conversation between Eist, Vissegerd and Mousesack, with Pavetta's silent and dreamy participation. Drogodar had put away his lute and was making up for his lost eating time. Haxo wasn't talkative. The voivode with the hard-to-remember name, who must have heard something about the affairs and problems of Fourhorn, politely asked whether the mares were foaling well. Geralt answered yes, much better than the stallions. He wasn't sure if the joke had been well taken, but the voivode didn't ask any more questions.

Mousesack's eyes constantly sought the witcher's, but the crumbs on the table didn't move again.

Crach an Craite was becoming more and more friendly with the two brothers from Strept. The third, the youngest brother, was paralytic, having tried to match the drinking speed imposed by Draig Bon-Dhu. The skald had emerged from it unscathed.

The younger and less important lords gathered at. the end of the table, tipsy, started singing a well-known song out of time

about a little goat with horns and a vengeful old woman with no sense of humour.

A curly-haired servant and a captain of the guards wearing the gold and blue of Cintra ran up to Vissegerd. The marshal, frowning, listened to their report, rose, and leaned down from behind the throne to murmur something to the queen. Calanthe glanced at Geralt and answered with a single word. Vissegerd leant over even further and whispered something more; the queen looked at him sharply and, without a word, slapped her armrest with an open palm. The marshal bowed and passed the command to the captain of the guards. Geralt didn't hear it but he did notice that Mousesack wriggled uneasily and glanced at Pavetta - the princess was sitting motionless, her head lowered.

Heavy footsteps, each accompanied by the clang of metal striking the floor, could be heard over the hum at the table. Everyone raised their heads and turned.

The approaching figure was clad in armour of iron sheets and leather treated with wax. His convex, angular, black and blue breast-plate overlapped a segmented apron and short thigh pads. The armour-plated brassards bristled with sharp, steel spikes and the visor, with its densely grated screen extending out in the shape of a dog's muzzle, was covered with spikes like a conker casing.

Clattering and grinding, the strange guest approached the table and stood motionless in front of the throne.

'Noble queen, honourable gentlemen,' said the newcomer, bowing stiffly. 'Please forgive me for disrupting your ceremonious feast. I am Urcheon of Erlenwald.'

'Greetings, Urcheon of Erlenwald,' said Calanthe slowly. 'Please take your place at the table.

In Cintra we welcome every guest.'

'Thank you, your Majesty,' Urcheon of Erlenwald bowed once again and touched his chest with a fist clad in an iron gauntlet. 'But I haven't come to Cintra as a guest but on a matter of great importance and urgency. If your Majesty permits I will present my case immediately, without wasting your time.'

'Urcheon of Erlenwald,' said the queen sharply, 'a praiseworthy concern about our time does not justify lack of respect. And such

is your speaking to us from behind an iron trellis. Remove your helmet, and we'll endure the time wasted while you do.'

'My face, your Majesty, must remain hidden for the time being. With your permission.'

An angry ripple, punctuated here and there with the odd curse, ran through the gathered crowd. Mousesack, lowering his head, moved his lips silently. The witcher felt the spell electrify the air for a second, felt it stir his medallion. Calanthe was looking at Urcheon, narrowing her eyes and drumming her fingers on her armrest.

'Granted,' she said finally. 'I choose to believe your motive is sufficiently important. So - what brings you here, Urcheon-without-a-face?'

'Thank you,' said the newcomer. 'But I'm unable to suffer the accusation of lacking respect, so I explain that it is a matter of a knight's vows. I am not allowed to reveal my face before midnight strikes.'

Calanthe, raising her hand perfunctorily, accepted his explanation. Urcheon advanced, his spiked armour clanging.

'Fifteen years ago,' he announced loudly, 'your husband King Roegner lost his way while hunting in Erlenwald. Wandering around the pathless tracts, he fell from his horse into a ravine and sprained his leg. He lay at the bottom of the gully and called for help but the only answer he got was the hiss of vipers and the howling of approaching werewolves. He would have died without the help he received.'

'I know what happened,' the queen affirmed. 'If you know it, too, then I guess you are the one who helped him.'

'Yes. It is only because of me he returned to you in one piece, and well.'

'I am grateful to you then, Urcheon of Erlenwald. That gratitude is none the lesser for the fact that Roegner, gentleman of my heart and bed, has left this world. Tell me, if the implication that your aid was not disinterested does not offend another of your knightly vows, how I can express my gratitude.'

'You well know my aid was not disinterested. You know, loo, that I have come to collect the promised reward for saving the king's life.'

'Oh yes?' Calanthe smiled but green sparks lit up her eyes. 'So you found a man at the bottom of a ravine, defenceless, wounded, at the mercy of vipers and monsters. And only when he promised you a reward did you help? And if he didn't want to or couldn't promise you something, you'd have left him there, and, to this day, I wouldn't know where his bones lay?

How noble. No doubt your actions were guided by a particularly chivalrous vow at the time.'

The murmur around the hall grew louder.

'And today you come for your reward, Urcheon?' continued the queen, smiling even more ominously. 'After fifteen years? No doubt you are counting the interest accrued over this period? This isn't the dwarves' bank, Urcheon. You say Roegner promised you a reward? Ah, well, it will be difficult to get him to pay you. It would be simpler to send you to him, into the other world, to reach an agreement over who owes what. I loved my husband top dearly, Urcheon, to forget that I could have lost him then, fifteen years ago, if he hadn't chosen to bargain with you. The thought of it arouses rather-ill feeling towards you. Masked newcomer, do you know that here in Cintra, in my castle and in my power, you are just as helpless and close to death as Roegner was then, at the bottom of the ravine? What will you propose, what price, what reward will you offer, if I promise you will leave here alive?'

The medallion on Geralt's neck twitched. The witcher caught Mousesack's clearly uneasy gaze. He shook his head a little and raised his eyebrows questioningly. The druid also shook his head and, with a barely perceptible move of his curly beard, indicated Urcheon. Geralt wasn't sure.

'Your words, your Majesty,' called Urcheon, 'are calculated to frighten me, to kindle the anger of the honourable gentlemen gathered here, and the contempt of your pretty daughter, Pavetta.

But above all, your words are untrue. And you know it!'

'You accuse me of lying like a dog.' An ugly grimace crept across Calanthe's lips.

'You know very well, your Majesty,' the newcomer continued adamantly, 'what happened then in Erlenwald. You know Roegner, once saved, vowed of his own will to give me whatever I asked for. I call upon every one to witness my words! When the king, rescued from his misadventure, reached his retinue, he asked me what I demanded and I answered. I asked him to promise me whatever he had left at home without knowing or expecting it. The king swore it would be so, and on his return to the castle he found you, Calanthe, in labour. Yes, your Majesty, I waited for fifteen years and the interest on my reward has grown. Today I look at the beautiful Pavetta and see that the wait has been worth it! Gentlemen and knights! Some of you have come to Cintra to ask for the princess's hand. You have come in vain. From the day of her birth, by the power of the royal oath, the beautiful Pavetta has belonged to me!'

An uproar burst forth among the guests. Some shouted, someone swore, someone else thumped his fist on the table and knocked the dishes over. Wieldhill of Strept pulled a knife out of the roast lamb and waved it about. Crach an Craite, bent over, was clearly trying to break a plank from the table trestle.

'That's unheard of!' yelled Vissegerd. 'What proof do you have? Proof?'

'The queen's face,' exclaimed Urcheon, extending his hand, 'is the best proof!'

Pavetta sat motionless, not raising her head. The air was growing thick with something very strange. The witcher's medallion was tearing at its chain under the tunic. He saw the queen summon a page and whisper a short command. Geralt couldn't hear it, but he was puzzled by the surprise on the boy's face and the fact that the command had to be repeated. The page ran towards the exit.

The uproar at the table continued as Eist Tuirseach turned to the queen.

'Calanthe,' he said calmly, 'is what he says true?'

'And if it is,' the queen muttered through her teeth, biting her lips and picking at the green sash on her shoulder, 'so whal?'

'If what he says is true,' Eist frowned, 'then the promise will have to be kept.'

'Is that so?'

'Or am I to understand,' the islander asked grimly, 'that you treat all promises this lightly, including those which have etched themselves so deeply in my memory?'

Geralt, who had never expected to see Calanthe blush deeply, with tears in her eyes and trembling lips, was surprised.