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'We'll see.' He bit his lip. 'Sleep while you can. Rest.'
He jumped down off the wagon. Ciri heard the sound of the camp packing up - horses
stamping, harnesses ringing, poles squeaking, swingle-trees grating, and talking and cursing.
And then, nearby, Yarpen Zigrin's hoarse voice and the calm voice of the tall man called
Wenck. And the cold voice of Geralt. She raised herself and carefully peered out from behind
the canvas.
'I have no categorical interdictions on this matter,' declared Wenck.
'Excellent.' The dwarf brightened. 'So the matter's settled?'
The commissar raised his hand a little, indicating that he had not yet finished. He was silent
for a while, and Geralt and Yarpin waited patiently.
'Nevertheless,' Wenck said finally, 'when it comes to the safe arrival of this caravan, it's my
head on the line.'
Again he said nothing. This time no one interrupted. There was no question about it - one had
to get used to long intervals between sentences when speaking to the commissar.
'For its safe arrival,' he continued after a moment. 'And for its timely arrival. Caring for this
sick woman might slow down the march.'
'We're ahead of schedule on the route,' Yarpen assured him, after a significant pause. We're
ahead of time, Wenck, sir, we won't miss the deadline. And as for safety ... I don't think the
witcher's company will harm that. The Trail leads through the woods right up to the Lixela,
and to the right and left there's a wild forest. And rumour has it all sorts of evil creatures roam
the forest.'
'Indeed,' the commissar agreed. Looking the witcher straight in the eye, he seemed to be
weighing out every single word. 'One can come across certain evil creatures in Kaedwen
forests, lately incited by other evil creatures. They could jeopardise our safety. King
Henselt, knowing this, empowered me to recruit volunteers to join our armed escort. Geralt?
That would solve your problem.'
The witcher's silence lasted a long while, longer than Wenck's entire speech, interspersed
though it had been with regular pauses.
'No,' he said finally. 'No, Wenck. Let us put this clearly. I am prepared to repay the help given
Lady Merigold, but not in this manner. I can groom the horses, carry water and firewood,
even cook. But I will not enter the king's service as a soldier. Please don't count on my sword.
I have no intention of killing those, as you call them, evil creatures on the order of other
creatures whom I do not consider to be any better.'
Ciri heard Yarpen Zigrin hiss loudly and cough into his rolled-up sleeve. Wenck stared at the
witcher calmly.
'I see,' he stated dryly. 'I like clear situations. All right then. Zigrin, see to it that the speed of
our progress does not slow. As for you, Geralt ... I know you will prove to be useful and
helpful in a way you deem fit. It would be an affront to both of us if I were to treat your good
stead as payment for aid offered to a suffering woman. Is she feeling better today?'
The witcher gave a nod which seemed, to Ciri, to be somewhat deeper and politer than usual.
Wenck's expression did not change.
'That pleases me,' he said after a normal pause. 'In taking Lady Merigold aboard a wagon in
my convoy I take on the responsibility lor her health, comfort and safety. Zigrin, give the
command to march out.'
'Wenck.'
'Yes, Geralt?'
'Thank you.'
The commissar bowed his head, a bit more deeply and politely, it seemed to Ciri, than the
usual, perfunctory politeness required.
Yarpen Zigrin ran the length of the column, giving orders and instructions loudly, after which
he clambered onto the coachman's box, shouted and whipped the horses with the reins. The
wagon jolted and rattled along the forest trail. The bump woke Triss up but Ciri reassured her
and changed the compress on her forehead.
The rattling had a soporific effect and the magician was soon asleep; Ciri, too, fell to dozing.
When she woke the sun was already high. She peered out between the barrels and packages.
The wagon she was in was at the vanguard of the convoy. The one following them was being
driven by a dwarf with a red kerchief tied around his neck. From conversations between the
dwarves, she had gathered that his name was Paulie Dahlberg. Next to him sat his brother
Regan. She also saw Wenck riding a horse, in the company of two bailiffs.
Roach, Geralt's mare, tethered to the wagon, greeted her with a quiet neigh. She couldn't see
her chestnut anywhere or Triss's dun. No doubt they were at the rear, with the convoy's spare
horses.
Geralt was sitting on the coachman's box next to Yarpen. They were talking quietly, drinking
beer from a barrel perched between them. Ciri pricked up her ears but soon grew bored - the
discussion concerned politics and was mainly about King Henselt's intentions and plans, and
some special service or missions to do with secretly aiding his neighbour, King Demawend of
Aedirn, who was being threatened by war. Geralt expressed interest about how five wagons of [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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