The Tower of the Swallow by Andrzej Sapkowski
‘Maybe. I don’t know. It’s been over two weeks since I ran away from Nightingale's Hanse.’
‘That would be the reason why you’re blowing the whistle on him?’ The witcher smiled. ‘Personal accounts?’
The girl's eyes narrowed and her swollen lips twisted repugnantly. ‘Fuck you and my accounts, Uncle! By blowing the whistle, I'm saving your life, right? You might thank me!’
‘Thank you.’ Geralt said before they could beat her. ‘I just wanted to say that when it comes to accounts, your credibility sinks, crown-witness. People tell on others to save their skin and their lives, but when they want revenge they lie.’
‘Our Angouleme has no chance to save her life,’ Fulko Artevelde interrupted. ‘But she can save her skin if she wants to. For me, this is an absolutely credible motive. What Angouleme? You want to save your skin, don't you?’
The girl pursed lips. And paled visibly.
‘Bandits,’ said the governor with contempt ‘have the courage of a chicken. They have the courage to attack and rob the weak, and to kill the defenseless, yes. But to look death in the eye, that they cannot do.’
‘We shall see,’ she growled.
‘We shall see,’ agreed Fulko seriously. ‘And hear. You will scream your lungs out on the scaffold, Angouleme.’
‘Your grace, you promised.’
‘And I keep my promises. If what you have confessed proves to be true.’
Angouleme jerked around on the chair. Her whole slender body seemed to point to Geralt. ‘And,’ she shrieked, ‘what's that? Not the truth? Let him deny that he is Geralt the witcher! Tell me that I am not credible! I could have let him ride to Belhaven, because then there would be proof that I'm not lying! You would have found his body in the gutter. Except that then you would say I had not prevented the crime and had no mercy! Yes? You damned tricksters! Nothing but swindlers!’
‘Do not beat her,’ said Geralt. ‘Please.’
There was something in his voice that stopped the half-raised hands of the governor and the guard.
Angouleme lifted her nose in the air and looked at him intently. ‘Thank you, Uncle,’ she said. ‘But beatings are nothing, if they want to hit me. I’ve been beaten from an early age, I'm used to it. If you want to be kind, then confirm that I am telling the truth. So they keep their word. Hang me, damn it!’
‘Take her away,’ Fulko ordered and gestured for Geralt, who wanted to protest, to be silent.
‘We do not need her anymore,’ he said when they were alone. ‘I know everything and will give you explanations. And then I will ask for reciprocity.’
‘First’ – the witcher’s voice was cold -’explain what that noisy finale was about. And why it ended with the odd request to be hanged. As a crown-witness, the girl has done her part.’
‘Not yet.’
‘How?’
‘Homer Straggen, called the Nightingale, is an exceedingly dangerous criminal. Cruel and bold, crafty, lucky, and not stupid. The fact that he gets away with impunity incites others. I must put an end to it. That's why I got involved in an agreement with Angouleme. I promised that if, as a result of her confession, Nightingale and his gang were taken and broken, we would hang Angouleme.’
‘I'm sorry?’ The witcher said in amazement. ‘So this is the establishment of a witness? Cooperation with the authorities gets you – the noose? And what do you get for refusal to cooperate?’
‘The stake. Preceded by tearing out the eyes and the breasts with hot pincers.’
The witcher did not say a word.
‘That is called a deterrent,’ Fulko Artevelde went on after a while. ‘Absolutely essential in the fight with the banditry. What do you clench your fists so hard that I can almost hear the knuckles cracking? Are you perhaps a supporter of the humane killing? You can afford you this luxury, because you mainly fight against beings who may, as ridiculous as it may sound, kill humanely. I cannot afford such a luxury. I’ve seen merchant caravans and houses that were robbed by Nightingale and his ilk. I've seen what they did to men to make them reveal their magic keywords and tell where they hid caskets and coffers. I’ve seen women slit open if have failed to satisfy Nightingale or had no hidden valuables. I've seen people who have had worse done to them, only so that the robbers could have their fun. Angouleme, whose fate moved you so, has committed these kind of jokes, that's for sure. She was in the gang long enough. And if the pure coincidence that she’s run away from the gang had not come to pass, no one would have heard of the ambush in Belhaven and you would have met her otherwise. Perhaps it would have been her that shot you in the back with a crossbow.’
‘I don’t like what-ifs. Do you know why she fled from the gang?’
‘I confess I am vague on this issue, and neither did my people get bogged down with it. But everyone knows that Nightingale is a man who, I would say naturally, reduces women to their primary role. If he could not otherwise succeed in persuading the woman to the role, he would force her using violence. In addition, generational conflicts have certainly developed. Nightingale is a mature man, but the rest of his cronies are greenhorns like Angouleme. But that is all speculation, basically I don’t care. And I allow myself to wonder why you care? Why did the sight of Angouleme wake such vivid emotions in you?’
‘A strange question. The girl reported an attack on me, the plan of her former cronies on behalf of a half-elf. This is sensational in itself, because I have no quarrel with any half-elves. The girl also knows who I am travelling with. Including details such as the troubadour is called Dandelion and the woman has a truncated braid. It’s because of these details that I guess it is all a lie or a provocation. It wouldn’t be difficult for someone to grab and question the bee keeper, with whom I was travelling last week. And then you stage this...’
‘Enough!’ Artevelde slammed his fist on the table. ‘You’ve got too much at stake here, witcher. So I am staging something here? And for what purpose? In order to deceive you, to lure you with a yarn? And who are you then, that you have such fear of a provocation? Only the criminals burn their hats, Mr. Witcher. Only the criminals!’
‘Give me another explanation.’
‘No, you give one to me.’
‘I'm sorry. I have none.’
‘I could make something up.’ The governor smiled wickedly. ‘But why? Let’s set the record straight. It does not interest me who wants to see you dead and why. I do not care why that someone has such excellent information about you, down to the color and length of your hair. Moreover: I didn’t need to tell you anything about the attack, witcher. I could have left your company in peace and then used you to bait the unsuspecting Nightingale. Watching you, waiting until Nightingale set his hook and you swallowed the string, weight and float. And then I could have taken him. Because it is him I am interested in. If you had to die for me to take him? Ha, a necessary evil, worth the cost!’
He stopped. Geralt made no comment.
‘You should know, sir witcher,’ the governor continued after a short pause, ‘that I've promised myself that the law will prevail in this region. At any cost and by any means, per fas et nefas. Because the law is not the jurisprudence, not a thick book full of paragraphs of philosophical treatises, no driveling fantasies of justice, no hackneyed phrases of morality and ethics. The law is safe highways and roads. You can walk safely through the streets in this city, even after dark. You can go to the lavatory in the inns and taverns and leave your purse and wife at the table. The law is the quiet sleep of people who are sure that they will be awakened by crowing of the cock, not the red rooster! And for those who break the law – the rope, the hatchet, and the red-hot iron! A punishment that deters others. Those who break the law have to take their punishment. With all available means and methods... Hey, witcher! I can see disapproval painted on your face; do you dislike my methods or their targets? I think the methods! Because the methods are easy to criticize, but do you want to live in a safe world or not? Well, answer!’
‘I h
‘I think you do.’
‘I, Lord Fulko,’ said Geralt calmly, ‘even like the world you’re envisioning and imagining.’
‘Really? Your face is evidence of something else.’
‘The world in your imagination is the perfect world for a witcher. It will never lack work for a witcher. Instead of law books, paragraphs, and driveling fantasies of justice, your world brings lawlessness, anarchy, despotism, the selfishness of petty kings and autocrats, the overzealousness of careerists who wish to win favor with their superiors, the blind vengeance of fanatics, the cruelty of vigilante justice, and revenge, sadistic revenge. Your vision is a world of fear, where people fear to leave their houses after dark – not for fear of bandits, but of the guardians of the law, because large scale bandit hunts always lead to the fact that the bandits join the ranks of law enforcement en bloc. Your vision is a world of bribery and the provocation of the press, a world of witnesses and false witnesses. A world of spying and forced confessions. Denunciation and fear of denunciation. And inevitably the day will come in your world when the wrong person has their breast torn out with pincers, and innocent people will be hanged or impaled. And then it will be a world of crime. In short,’ he concluded, ‘a world in which a witcher would feel like a fish in water.’
‘Please,’ said Fulko Artevelde after a pause, as he rubbed the eye socket hidden by his leather eye patch. ‘An idealist! A witcher. A professional who regularly kills. And yet an idealist. And a moralist. That's dangerous in your profession, witcher. It’s a sign that you’ve gradually grown out of your profession. One day you'll wonder if you should slay a Striga – because maybe it is an innocent Striga? Perhaps my world has blind fanaticism and vengeance? I hope it does not get that far. But... I hope it does not, but it is indeed possible. If someone would violate a person close to you in a cruel and sadistic manner, then I would like to return to this conversation and the issue of appropriate penalties. Who knows, maybe our views wouldn’t differ so much? But today, here and now, it is a non-issue that we don’t need to discuss or consider. Today we are talking about concrete things. And you, witcher, are concrete!’
Geralt slightly raised an eyebrow.
‘Even though you've spoken derisively about my methods and my vision of world order, I will use you, my dear witcher, to achieve this vision. I repeat: I have sworn to myself that those who break the law to get what they deserve. Every one of them. From the little rogue who falsifies the weights on the market, to the man who steals a shipment of bows and arrows meant for the army. Robbers, pickpockets, thieves, bandits. The terrorists of the organization ‘Free North Case’, who proudly call themselves freedom fighters. And Nightingale. Especially Nightingale. Nightingale must get his punishment, the method is irrelevant.’
‘We must act quickly – before the amnesty is proclaimed, when he can sit laughing up his sleeve at me... witcher, I’ve been waiting for months for something that would allow me to strike at him pre-emptively. Something that allows me to direct him to ensure that he makes a mistake, a crucial error that will be his undoing. Must I continue to talk, or have you guessed?’
‘I’ve guessed, but continue talking.’
‘This mysterious half-elf, who appears to be the initiator and instigator of the attack, has warned Nightingale of the witcher, has recommended caution, has advised against complacency, arrogance, and swagger. I know that he had reasons to give those warnings. But the warnings will do no good. Nightingale is making a mistake. He will attack a witcher who is forewarned and ready to defend himself. He will attack a witcher who has been awaiting his attack. And that will be the end of the bandit Nightingale. I’ll make an agreement with you, Geralt. You will be my crown-witcher. Do not interrupt me. The agreement is simple, each page covers an obligation, each holds its own commitment. You must prioritize Nightingale. For my part...’
He fell silent for a moment, smiling slyly.
‘I will not ask who you are, where you come from, or where and why you are travelling. I will not ask why you speak Nilfgaardian with a barely perceptible accent or why dogs and horses sometimes shy away from you. I will let the troubadour Dandelion keep his tube filled with records. And I will not inform the Imperial Intelligence Service about you until Nightingale is dead or sits in jail with me. Perhaps even later, what's the rush? I'll give you time. And an opportunity.’
An opportunity for what?’
‘To get to Toussaint. That ridiculous, fairy tale principality, whose boundaries even the Nilfgaardian Intelligence Service will not dare violate. Afterwards, many things can change. There will be an amnesty. Perhaps the expansion of the Yaruga will stop. Perhaps even a lasting peace.’
The witcher was silent for a long time. The disfigured face of the governor remained motionless, but his eyes sparkled.
‘Agreed,’ the witcher said.
‘Without terms? Without conditions?’
‘With two of them.’
‘Yes of course. I'm listening.’
‘First, I must spend a few days riding to the west. To Loc Monduirn. To the Druids, because...’
‘Do you think I’m a fool?’ Fulko Artevelde violently interrupted. ‘Trying to dupe me? To the west? Everyone knows where your path leads! Including Nightingale, who set his ambush along the way. To the south, to Belhaven, at the point where the Newi crosses the Sansretour Valley, leading to Toussaint.’
‘You mean...’
‘... that the Druids are not at Loc Monduirn. For nearly a month. They’ve travelled through the Sansretour Valley to Toussaint, under the wing of the Princess Anarietta of Beauclair, who has a soft spot for all sorts of eccentrics, cranks, and fabulous creatures. Such people are willingly granted asylum in her little fairyland. You know that, witcher. Do not hold me a fool. Do not attempt to dupe me!’
‘I'm not trying to’ Geralt said slowly. ‘I give you my word that I am not. Tomorrow I depart for Belhaven.’
‘Haven’t you forgotten something?’
‘No, I have not. My second condition: I want Angouleme. I prefer an amnesty for her that releases her from prison. Your crown-witcher needs your crown-witness. Quickly, do you are agree or not?’
‘Agreed,’ replied Fulko Artevelde almost instantly. ‘I have no choice. Angouleme is yours. I know that she is the only reason you are with me.’
The vampire rode side by side with Geralt. He listened attentively and did not interrupt. The witcher was not mistaken in his perspicacity.
‘We are five, not four,’ he quickly summarized after Geralt had finished his story. ‘We have been five since the end of August, and five crossed the Yaruga. Milva only cut off her braid in the river country. Only one week ago. Your blond protégé knew of Milva’s cut braid. But did not count five. Strange.’
‘Is this the strangest thing about the whole story?’
‘Not at all. The strangest thing is Belhaven. The town the ambush was laid in. A town that lies far in the mountains, through the Newi Valley and the Theodula Pass...’
‘Where we never wanted to ride,’ concluded the witcher, spurring Roach, who had begun to lag behind. ‘Three weeks ago, when the half-elf ordered the bandit Nightingale to assassinate me, we were still in Angren, wanting to reach Caed Dhu and fearing the Ysgith swamps. We didn’t even know that we would have to cross the Yaruga. Hell, this morning we still did not know that...’
‘We knew,’ interrupted the vampire. ‘We knew we were looking for the Druids. Both this morning and three weeks ago. This mysterious half-elf organized an ambush on the road that leads to the Druids, confident that we will take just this path. He just knows...’
‘...better than we do where that path leads.’ The witcher retaliated against Regis’ earlier interruption. ‘How does he know?’
‘That, you will have to ask him. That is why you accepted the governor’s offer, is not it?’
‘Of course. I reckon that I’ll have a little talk with this gentleman, with this half-elf.’ Gera
The vampire studied him for a while in silence.
‘I do not like what you are saying, Geralt,’ he said finally. ‘I do not like what you are thinking. That is an ugly thought. It is premature and does not take everything into consideration. The result of prejudice and resentment.’
‘Then explain how...’
‘Anyway.’ Regis interrupted in a tone that Geralt had never heard from him before. ‘Anyway, that is not the only explanation. For example, have you considered the possibility that your blond protégé is simply lying?’
‘Well, well, Uncle,’ cried Angouleme, who was riding behind them on the mule named Draakul. ‘Don’t make any accusations before you can prove them!’
‘I'm not your uncle, my dear.’
‘And I'm not your dear, Uncle!’
‘Angouleme’ – the witcher turned in his saddle -’be quiet.’
‘As you wish.’ Angouleme calmed down instantly. ‘You can order me. You brought me out of jail and tore me from the clutches of Lord Fulko. You are now the leader of my Hanse...’
‘Be quiet, please.’
Angouleme muttered something to herself, stopped spurring Draakul, and fell back, because Geralt and Regis increased their pace and overtook Dandelion, Milva, and Cahir, who rode ahead them. They rode towards the mountains, along the banks of the Newi River, whose waters were cloudy yellow-brown after the recent rains, and streaked across stones and swells. They were not alone. Quite often they encountered Nilfgaardian squadrons, individual riders, settler’s wagons, and merchant caravans.
To the south, ever closer and more threatening, rose the Amell Mountains. And the sharp needle of Gorgon, the Devil's Mountain, which sank into the clouds that covered the whole sky.
‘When will you tell them?’ the vampire asked, pointing to the three riding ahead of them.
‘When we make camp.’
Dandelion was the first person to speak after Geralt had finished. ‘Correct me if I'm wrong,’ he said. ‘That girl you've willingly and without any conditions accepted into our company is a criminal. In order to protect her from punishment – that she deserves by the way – you decided to collaborate with the Nilfgaardians. You let them hire you – what am I saying, not only yourself, but all of us. We should all help the Nilfgaardians capture and put to death any local predators. In short: You, Geralt, have become a Nilfgaardian mercenary, a bounty hunter, a hired assassin. And we must play the role of your acolytes... your famuli...’