Chapter 96: Pigs Pigs Pigs (2)

“I would have thought that you are a good guy, that I like you, but your heart is too gentle for this kind of work. I would have been hoping not to see you in the morning.”

I nodded.

“Thank you Gustav.”

We shook hands and I walked over to the Witcher who looked at me a long time.

I could tell that he was still angry.

“Now what did we learn?” he hissed.

“I don't know Kerrass,” I wailed. I could still hear the echoes of the animal sobbing. “What was I supposed to learn?”

He sighed and shook his head before jumping back over the fence. “Come on. Dump those clothes in the cess pit. You stink and I've ordered you a bath run. You're meeting with the town mayor tonight.”

“Why?” I moaned. Disgusted with the tears that I could still hear at the back of my throat.

“No more questions.” He told me and beckoned me on.

He took me to the inn where I was instructed to strip naked before I was allowed in through a back door and into the bath house. At the time I was resentful and embarrassed but in all fairness I was dripping in pig offal, excrement, piss and blood and I would have been cross if some noble fuck-wit had walked through my house trailing all that stuff behind me.

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I bathed as quick as I could but it was some time before I could begin to feel properly clean and presentable again. When I looked around for my clothes or my pack to get some more out I found a set of sensible Leather trousers, shirt and trousers as well as my own boots that looked as though they had been scraped clean. The shirt and trousers were new to me although they fit perfectly well but I found them itchy. No matter how much I called though, I couldn't find Kerrass or anyone else that would explain to me where my own clothes had gone, or my pack and weapons for that matter.

I was feeling lost and isolated as well as being a very long way away from home.

I took hold of my pendant and tried to contact Ariadne but although she was there, she seemed to be very far off as well as being busy. I tried to speak to her about small things and even to make some plans for the future but after a while, I realised that I was just making myself more unhappy as well as getting the feeling that I was distracting her from whatever was going on in her life.

I felt wretched but I was dressed and climbed up the stairs into the inn properly where I was greeted with a wave by one of the bar workers. She told me that Kerrass was in the back room and pointed out where to go.” I thanked her and moved over to the indicated door.

I knocked, feeling really foolish for doing so.

Kerrass opened the door. He looked me up and down before nodding approval and beckoning me into the

room.

“Kerrass, what...?” I began but he held his finger to his lips to indicate silence.

“Lord Mayor,” he said indicating the other man in the room. It was a smallish room that looked to have been set aside for private family functions. There was artwork on the walls, an old pair of swords crossed above the hearth, a few sets of antlers and a boars head although the head could probably have done with being re-stuffed.

There was also a suit of armour in the corner of the room that looked far too small to actually be able to contain anyone.

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The Mayor of the town was a the retired blacksmith. His sons now ran the forge although the mayor was still a big man and he moved with the exaggerated care that I had seen in other, well meaning but massively muscled men and women. He was careful that he didn't catch people out or accidentally hurt someone or damage something. He wore a plain cotton shirt despite the cooling air outside and a pair of leather trousers. What I guessed to be his hooded cloak was hung up on the cloak stand in the corner. He was unshaven although he looked as though he was a little uncomfortable with his beard growth. He had a habit of tugging on the hair, occasionally pulling a hair out and flicking it away towards the fire.

He rose to greet me as I was introduced.

“Lord Mayor this is my apprentice, Frederick of Redania. Freddie this is Mayor Lukas.”

We shook hands and the mayor sat down. There was a table with a couple of mugs on it and a jug which the mayor poured himself a drink from.

“Now, Mister Mayor. As we have discussed previously, but for the benefit of my apprentice here I would like to just go over it again.”

The mayor took a long drink from his mug and nodded.

“So,” Kerrass said sitting back down and gesturing me towards a seat. “I have heard your problem, I'm pretty sure I know what's happening and I think I have a solution.”

The mayor nodded, obviously looking grateful.

“So what I would like to do here.” Kerrass went on, “is to use this opportunity to test my apprentice on what he's learnt so far and to deal with this problem himself. I emphasise that I'm already pretty sure I know what's happening and I just need a few details to make sure that I have everything right which I shall look into while my apprentice is getting some rest.”

Kerrass looked at me directly. “He's had a busy day.”

“So I've heard,” The mayor managed to keep his face straight but I could tell that he was trying not to laugh.

“I would like to emphasise that, now that I am here, I will ensure that no more members of your village will come to harm and that if that situation comes up before my apprentice has dealt with the issue then I will step in accordingly.”

The mayor nodded.

“Just to check that that is still ok with you.”

“And you say that you will charge me less for your normal services if I allow this to happen?” The mayor asked.

“I will. It's been a while since I've had an apprentice but it's generally accepted that an apprentices work is worth less than the masters. I don't think that this will be too much of a challenge here for him unless I am drastically wrong, but I doubt it. If I am wrong then I will come back to you to discuss it.”

The mayor nodded.

“But,” Kerrass went on. “I will only discuss price with you separately. My apprentice is quite aware of my costing process and may be able to guess what the problem is from how much I intend to charge you. It is vital to the work that he be able to figure out what's going wrong for himself.”

“I see.”

“So. What I would like for you to do is to arrange matters so that everything is left the way it was when you showed me the things that I asked to see until my apprentice tells you that he is done. Is that possible?”

“I don't see why not. I've had apprentices myself over the years so I know how this works.”

“Excellent, so you can understand my concerns?”

“I can.”

“Good. Then if you could lay out the situation to my apprentice so that he can sleep on the problem. He doesn't yet have the capability to be able to work through the night as I can. That isn't a lack on his part, it's just that we haven't yet proceeded to that part of his training.”

The mayor nodded. “I understand. You don't want me to blame him for something that he cannot do, in the same way that I would not get angry at an apprentice for not knowing how to make a door hinge if I hadn't shown him how to do it.”

“I see that you understand. Very Well.”

Kerrass looked at me and then back to the mayor again. “Any last questions before we start?”

“No Master Witcher. I think I have a handle on things.”

Kerrass nodded. “In which case I shall head over to the corner of the room and watch my apprentice at work.”

The mayor nodded.

I took a deep breath as Kerrass matched action to word and tried to order my thoughts. I was tired, hungry, massively heart sick and I wanted to go to bed.

“Right,” I began before taking another deep breath. “Right. First let me tell you that I know absolutely nothing about this situation. I didn't see the sign that was left on the tree before Master Kerrass saw it.” I did my best to put a little sarcasm into Kerrass' title. If the mayor noticed then he didn't react to it. “So I would like you to start by telling me a quick overview of the problem the way you would do a healer or a herb-woman before going into more detail and telling me the story from the beginning.”

“Right, well....”

“Sorry, sorry to interrupt. Do you mind if I take notes?” I raised my eyebrows towards Kerrass who nodded and indicated the corner of the room where my pack was.

“Not at all,” the mayor said. “I must admit that you being able to read sets you a little higher than most apprentices that I have seen. You are lucky in your apprentice Witcher.”

“You will, I hope, forgive me if I decide that for myself Mister Mayor.” Kerrass let some amusement into his voice to take the sting out of the words.

The mayor chuckled so the effort must have been successful.

“So,” I said arranging a couple of bits of note-paper, trimmed a quill and opened an ink-pot. It had been a while since I had done any kind of serious writing and I was dismayed to feel my hand wanting to cramp up.

“How can I help.”

“Well, it's like this.” he began. “We've had a spate of deaths recently. Suicides mostly. Young kids killing themselves in a variety of ways. Mostly by throwing themselves off a nearby cliff but one lad tied himself to a rock and threw himself in the river and a couple have taken blades to themselves or eaten some berries in the local area that are known to be poisonous. Sometimes we manage to save the child from their attempt or find them crippled when they didn't jump off a high enough cliff to get the job done. The lad that tied himself to a rock forgot that the river he threw himself into wasn't very deep and we were able to rescue him from drowning fairly easily. But in all of those cases, the child was soon able to get hold of the tools or substances that he needed to end themselves.”

I nodded as I made a couple of notes. I used shorthand in the same way that I do when I'm noting down what various interviewees are saying.

“You know my first comment already don't you.” I said.

“I do,”

“Say it anyway,” Kerrass said from the corner of the room.

I sighed. I desperately wanted a drink.

“Why do you think this is a case for a Witcher?” I asked. “Best will in the world, it's tragic and everything, I sympathise with your pain but... children go mad and get sad just as much as the rest of us do. Child suicide happens. Why do you think that there's anything different about this case.”

The mayor nodded and I guessed that this was what he had been expecting to hear.

“Because of the number of children concerned for a start. This all started, maybe six months ago, during the autumn rains. Since then we have lost an average of one child to suicide per week.”

I whistled. “Ok,” I nodded. “That's a lot, anything else that makes you think that this is a job for a Witcher rather than a priest or a herb-woman?”

“There have been another couple of child deaths that have nothing to do with suicide. They just became ill and faded away until one day they just wouldn't wake up.”

“I see.” I made a few more notes. “Anything else?”

“Yes. All of the children try to die around the old watchtower.”

“I see.” I took a deep breath. Holy flame but I wanted to go to sleep. Part of me was yelling at me that I should be showing more sympathy towards the man in front of me that was telling me about these horrific events but I just felt so tired and so...

ambivalent.

Is that horrible? It feels pretty horrible.

It feels pretty horrible to admit that you felt ambivalent about the deaths of any number of children but right then I just felt resentful that this was happening. I wanted to be hunting Francesca's kidnappers. I didn't want to be stuck in some village in the middle of nowhere and listening to this old man talking about dead children.

I had to take a deep breath and force my brain back to what I was dealing with

“So, why don't you take it from the beginning.” I said. “When was the first case and what happened?”

The talk was a long, meandering one so I won't duplicate it here word for word. I was unused to asking these types of questions, just as much as he was unused to answering them. I got the impression that he thought I was interrogating him as though he had done something wrong. The whole thing seemed strange and I felt as though I was swimming uphill and into a storm.

In the end I gave up. Told the poor, much put upon man who deserved better from me, that I was really really tired and that I was struggling to concentrate properly. I asked if it would be convenient for me to call on him in the morning after I had eaten and had a good nights sleep to go over a few details to make sure that I had the salient points.

I had to explain what “salient” meant. The fact that I had to do so made us both angry. Him because he thought I was calling him stupid and me for the fact that he thought I was calling him stupid.

I'll let you be the judge of who was right and who was wrong as part of that argument.

Kerrass said nothing and told me to get some rest before picking up his things and leaving. I got something to eat which turned to ask in my mouth before utterly failing to get the early night that I had intended.

I really struggle now, to look back at that time and place and try to figure out what was going on with me and in my head and there have been several theories suggested by a number of people to try and explain what was going on.

The first was that I was grieving. Everyone, including me, was talking about Francesca as though she had been kidnapped and that was what my heart hoped for. That she would turn out to be ok, just taken somewhere and held against her will and that we would find her. Either the Empress or the Lodge of Sorceresses would find her and that she would be able to resume her old life. I would admit that I preferred the idea that Kerrass and I would find her and be able to affect some kind of rescue but I was also self aware enough to admit that that was a fantasy.

But increasingly, the logical part of my brain, the part of me that operates on facts and knowledge rather than on the basis of theories and hopes, was telling me that Francesca was dead. By the time that this stories events were taking place it had been, roughly speaking, over six weeks since she had disappeared. In that time, no demand had been made of any of the people that would care for her return. Neither the Empress or my family had been approached for a ransom of any kind. Nor were there any kinds of threats made.

Francesca had been lured out of the palace, kidnapped and had then vanished from the clutches of the kidnapper, much to his distress. And we still hadn't heard from anyone that might know about anything.

Increasingly, that was telling me that it was an attack on Francesca herself, which meant that she was probably, by now, dead.

The thought had even occurred that someone had kidnapped her with an intention to make some kind of ransom demand before realising exactly how important my sister had become to various powerful people, realised what the penalty would be if they were caught and had decided to cut their losses.

Right then I hated that part of my brain. I loathed it and would have cut it out of me if it was plausible.

I was also tired. Physically and mentally. Mentally, I had been turning the problem of my sisters disappearance over in my head. Over and over and over again, trying to look for some kind of clue that I hadn't seen before. Some kind of lead that had not been pursued. Even though I knew perfectly well that this was not the case. That it had been discussed by people trained to investigate crime from all the angles.

Physically, I had been riding for several days. Getting used to life on the road again after an extended break from it. Kerrass and I had split up after the awakening of Sleeping Beauty in Early Autumn and now I was back on the road again in Early to mid Spring. I had gotten used to the life of luxury again and I had forgotten how much an extended ride can make you ache.

I was also, a little lonely. I had been surrounded by friends and family for months. Not least of which was my newly made Fiancee. That I loved her despite my fear of her was no longer in any doubt. The very thought of losing her cost me almost physical pain.

Now it was just Kerrass and I. Kerrass who, to my eyes, had been acting strangely since we had left Toussaint.

I was done. I came to that realisation after forcing myself to eat a meal which was objectively very tasty because I was, again, objectively very hungry. I was also, objectively, very tired and staying in a room that was comfortable, private, quiet, clean and there was no reason that I shouldn't just fall asleep.

I felt out of control and as though events were moving far too fast and I didn't know where they were going and I didn't know what to do about any of it.

I almost laughed before having a little weep to myself as I realised what was going on and what I reminded myself of.

My nanny....

Yes, I had a nanny. Get over it.

My nanny had a term that she used to describe my behaviour when I was a toddler. Later I had asked her about it when she had stopped being my nanny and had become Francesca's nanny.

The term is “Naggy” or sometimes “Aggy” for short. What it describes is a toddler who has had enough. They've just had enough. They're too hot or too cold. They are tired, hungry, upset about something and NOBODY seems to be paying ANY attention to the cruelty of the world against their little being. They are upset and they don't know why and they don't know what to do about any of the problems that are assailing their own tiny little brains and bodies because they don't have the language or the tools to describe to the grown-ups or even to themselves what the problem was.

What they want to do is to go home, build some kind of fort out of pillows and blankets and not emerge. Preferably in the company of some adult who will hold them tight and tell them that everything is going to be ok while also making all the problems vanish.

That was what was wrong with me and I thought back to my old Nanny and her way with words and had a little laugh and a little cry before I relit the oil lamps in the room and sat up with the notes that I had made about the deaths of the children. It occurred to me that I was in my own version of one of Kerrass' depressive moods and what he was doing was trying to jolt me out of that mood by giving me something to distract me from where my head was.

After having a little bit of a cry I took a deep breath and took out my notes from the conversation with the mayor. I managed to read the first sentence before falling asleep.

I woke up with the notes stuck to my face.

Climbing to consciousness was difficult that morning. I ached in places that I could not remember ever having ached before, despite training with the spear and riding for miles but I managed to get there with the aid of a mug of hot coffee and a huge bacon sandwich which the barmaid gave me with a huge, knowing grin. I sat in the common room, eating my food and reading through my notes.

All things told I felt pretty good.

As I understood it from my notes the facts were these.

In the Autumn there had been a bit of a mudslide brought on by extreme weather higher up in the mountains. The water had run down hill hard washing away a good chunk of the bank and causing a bit of a land-slip towards the edge of the village. Before that there were no significant events in the village beyond normal village business. Market days, marriages, festivals that kind of thing. The first death happened about a week after the mudslide.

It hadn't been that big a mudslide by the way. If you're thinking about a huge, avalanche like disaster then you are over-estimating what we're talking about. There was a bit of land-slippage. They only reason that it was noticed as anything unusual really was the fact that the watchtower had begun to tilt a little bit more and one of the stones had toppled off the parapet. (Apparently it had promptly been commandeered by someone in the village to provide a hearthstone for their new house. I had made a note to look at that but as the relevant family had not been affected by the problems.) The other reason that it had been spotted was because, as the village made most of it's money from the fishing nets and the smoking houses. The collapsed banks had meant that one of the fishing traps had been damaged.

The first death was a young lad. You can find a dozen of him in any village and town. He was a large lad, the “leader of the pack” kind of child In the imagined games where the children fought off hordes of monsters, bandits or Redanians, he would be the one that led the charge. Not always the general in charge but was quite obviously the leader of the pack. Not the dreamer up of the mischief but he would be the lad that volunteered to take responsibility. Still a couple of years away from the village matrons eyeing him up for potential wives but he would be well hunted when it came to it.

One night he had complained about being tired after a day where his energy had been.... less than was normally expected. His parents had suspected some illness of some kind before doing what parents did. They made him a milky porridge and sent him to bed early with the promise that if he still felt ill the following day, then they would call the Herb-woman.

In the morning he had gone from his bed. Fearing a fever and therefore a delirium a search was quickly mounted but the child was found almost immediately. He lay at the bottom of the light cliff that the Watchtower sat at the top of. His head was caved in. There were several other injuries including a broken leg, collar bone and several broken ribs. It was the head injury that killed him but his broken ribs had also punctured a lung.

It was decided that the poor lad, either in a delirium or for some other reason or sickness of the brain had climbed tot he top of the Watchtower and thrown himself off the top. While he might have survived the leap (the “cliff” was really a steep rise with a loose rock scree and several larger rocks that were embedded in the earth. During the fall it was assumed that he broke his leg on impact before tumbling down the slope and dashing his brains out against one of the larger rocks.

The family and village mourned in the way that villages do when it's lost a child. The child's parents left to live with the mother's sister in another town to join in with the local bakery. The village had been understanding at the departure but were understanding at the families need to distance themselves from the tragedy.

The next child to tragically lose her life was a young girl. In the same way with the previous child she had spent a day being lethargic and lacking in energy. The parents, being careful and caring parents, remembered the previous tragedy and instantly called for the herb-woman. The herb-woman examined the girl but was unable to identify any kind of illness other than fatigue and lack of sleep although the child told her parents that she had slept normally the previous night.

Again, not being stupid or neglectful, the parents stayed in the same room as the girl-child and caught her climbing out of the window just before midnight. The girl panicked, was described as being “mad,” and “didn't recognise her parents.” She begged to be let go, to be released and left alone. Eventually they let her go but followed her in an effort to keep her safe and to see what was happening.

The girl walked up the hill towards the Watchtower, clutching the sides of her head as though she was in pain. All the way she was pleading with an unseen figure to “let her go,” and “just let me sleep.” When she got to the Watchtower she became more agitated before attempting to climb to the top in her dazed state. The father of the girl had had enough by this point, bodily picked the girl up and carried her away.

The following morning the Herb-woman came again. In the manner of all Herb-women she had a small, very sharp knife on her belt for cutting herbs. She didn't think anything of it, the parents didn't think anything of it but the little girl did. While the herb-woman was examining the child the girl stole the knife and without warning, plunged the knife into her own throat. Witnesses, for there were several, said that it happened so fast that the first thing that they knew where something was happening was when the blood was running freely down the poor girls hands.

These two were the first two cases and both situations were repeated several times since then. Either the child would attempt to throw themselves off the watchtower resulting in death or injury. If it was injury or if the child was prevented from harming themselves, then the child would find a way to finish the job at a later date. Poisonous berries or sharp knifes were the chosen method of choice if the fall from the Watchtower was unsuccessful.

I checked and found something interesting. There was one child that drowned themselves. I seemed to have spotted the discrepency the previous evening with the mayor. The child was deathly afraid of heights. That was interesting. I didn't know why but I knew that it was interesting.

Then there were the two children who had just, to quote the mayor, “faded away,” They had become tired, increasingly tired and more and more lacking in energy. The parents had worried at first but when the child showed no signs of any kind of self-harming tendencies or a desire to harm themselves then the watch was relaxed and the village treated them as sick children.

But the child had just faded away, eating less and less, drinking less and less liquids until they got to the point that their body just gave up and the poor child died. I had asked if an autopsy had been performed before the mayor had calmly informed me that “we're decent folk round here and don't hold with that kind of thing.” I thought that the mayor had expected my question and as a result, hadn't been quite as angry as he might have been otherwise. I guessed that Kerrass had asked the same question.

I finished my sandwich and my hot drink before going in search of Kerrass.

I didn't have to go very far. He was down by the waters edge, sat on a rock, eating an apple while reading from a book. He didn't look up as I approached.

“I wanted to thank you.” I began.

“Oh?” He still didn't look up from his book.

“Yes.” I took a deep breath. “I know what you're trying to do.”

He looked up at me in confusion. “You do?”

“Yes. You're trying to distract me. Give me something to occupy my mind with other than Francesca's disappearance. You're trying to take my mind of things and I'm grateful.”

He rose to his feet.

“Really?” He carefully put the book away to one side.

“Yes. I got the first good nights sleep since we set out from Toussaint.”

He nodded. “So...?” He waved his hands as though encouraging me to get to the end of the point.

“So thank you I guess.”

He said nothing, his face went still.

“So can we just finish up here so we can....?”

My voice petered out as I watched his eyes fill with anger and disgust before his eyes narrowed into slits.

“Oh, this is so not about you.” He hissed. His eyes searched my face, flitting around, scanning my features.

“So. We. Can. What?” He ground out. His voice was like ice rubbing over granite. I tried to step backwards from him but he grabbed me by the lapels. “Finish your sentence.” He snarled.

“I...”

“So can we just finish up here so we can....what? Go and jerk off? Find some whores to plough? What were you going to say?”

“I....”

“SAY IT,” He bellowed into my face, spittle flying.

“So we can get on with what's important.”

Lights exploded behind my eyes and I found I was looking up at him from where he had knocked me on my ass. It took him a moment to, visibly, bring his emotions back under control.

“Who am I?” He demanded of me after a long while.

“Wha...” I was dazed and my brain was no longer working. Too tired and too emotional to think clearly.

“Who am I?” Kerrass went on, his eyes blazing with anger and disgust. “What am I?”

“Kerrass, you're...”

“I'm a Witcher. SAY IT.” He demanded.

“You're a Witcher.” I just wanted this to stop now. I wanted my friend back. I wanted to be told it was ok and that things would get back to normal again.

But I couldn't have told you, right then, what kind of “normal” I wanted.

“That's right,” He sneered. “I'm a Witcher. It's what I am, it's who I am and it's what I do. This,” he gestured at the village. “This is who I am. I am not a Bounty Hunter. I am not some hired killer to do your bidding. I am not a hunter of men. I am a Witcher. I hunt monsters.

“The reason I am coming with you. The reason that I agreed to help you on your quest for answers and vengeance, is because I consider you my friend. I care about you a great deal and it saddens me to see how much you are hurting so I agree to help you. But I did not agree to stop being who I am.

“You are not the only person who has offered to pay for my food, my bed or my comfort while we do this. Your sister and the Empress both offered to foot the bill. But they don't know me and they wouldn't know why I might think of that as an insult.

“But you? I expected better from you.

“The instant I take your money, or their money to do this. Then I am no longer a Witcher, I am a Mercenary, a bounty hunter and a paid killer. Even worse than that, I lose my neutrality in this entire situation. I lose my ability to look at the thing from the outside of the situation to make my decisions.

“Why?

“Because I would now work for you. For them it doesn't matter as much but for you? I would no longer be your travelling companion and comrade in arms. I would be your servant. Depending on you for my food and comfort.

“I won't be that. I won't.

“Neutrality is vital to being a Witcher. It's almost literally our life's reason. Do you think that we do it just to avoid politics and wars? To avoid getting into situations which might be a little bit awkward with whichever Lord we're getting involved with or to avoid assassination missions or that kind of thing? We do it for two reasons.

“The first reason is, yes, self-preservation. I can't save villagers and townsfolk if I'm too busy being trapped into performing missions for uppity noble-folk who think I will be doing what they say in return for some kind of gratitude because they offered to pay for me to sleep in a clean bed that night.

“But the second reason is, by far, the more important reason. Neutrality gives us objectivity. I can sit, outside the entire situation and decide what's going on without silly things like feudal, race or situational loyalty. It's another reason that we travel alone. So that we can make our own minds up without letting other people influence us.

“I would not compromise my neutrality for the Empress when she offered to pay me to help guard her over her coronation because that struck me as dangerously close to being a political action.

“I didn't accept your money when we went to wake The Princess either.

“I didn't take your money when you asked for my help when it came to asking who was responsible for your fathers death. If you remember I did my very best to try and talk me out of using me for that purpose.

“I only ever accepted your money when you were paying me in return for something that was in my remit. You notice that I haven't asked you for any money, beyond the odd desire to not pay for the odd pint or meal in the pub, since I stopped being your subject and started being your friend?

“So why would you think I would accept your money now?”

He stared at me coldly for a moment. “Oh, and in case you're wondering. The reason I helped protect the Empress is because Eskel asked me to, so I did it as a favour to a friend.”

He shook his head and walked off for a couple of steps before coming back.

“Eight months.” He said. “Eight months since we stopped being on the road. You go home and you live in your castle for six months and a bit, followed by a month at Toussaint where you rub shoulders with, and enjoy the friendship of the most powerful people in the land. Eight months and you turn back into being a spoilt little rich boy who aims your money catapult at problems until they go away. Then you wonder why people are so terrified of your family.

“Eight months that's all it took.”

He crouched down next to me but he was looking into the distance.

“You wanna know why I stopped to check the noticeboard. No, I don't need the money. Yes I know that friendship tells me that I could borrow a bit from you for a meal or a place to rest on the road. I know that. So I didn't need the money.. You wanna know why I turned aside to pick up the notice?”

I didn't answer.

“I did it because I'm a Witcher. It's my job.

“I did it because I can. Because I have the skills, the tools and the training to help these people do the things that they can't. Yes I charge them but I still need to eat. That's how society works here. I need something from them, they charge me. They need something from me, I charge them. We all wish we could do it for free but we can't.

“I did it because they needed help. This is another thing that society depends on. We help others because when we're in trouble, we need to know that they will help us. Who else are they going to ask for help. The nobles? Who will probably tax them for the privilege and only get round to it when they remember or don't have anything better to do. A wandering knight? I think Toussaint has ably demonstrated what happens when you trust a wandering knight to do the job. At best, they fail, at worst, they make it worse. A priest? What's a priest going to do. Pray the problem away? I would go for it if you could point to one example where that has actually worked.

“I did it because, in doing so, I can make the world a little bit better. I am a Witcher. I try to make the world a better place by killing monsters. A task for which I am uniquely suited. You are a scholar and a nobleman. Tell me, what was the last thing you did to improve the lot of your fellow man?”

I waited.

“That wasn't a rhetorical question.” He told me. “What was the last thing you did?”

“I...” I struggled for a moment.

“What's the matter? Struggling for an answer? When we were travelling together before you were writing accounts of our travels. You did so, yes to earn money but you were passionate about learning. You did it in several different ways. You published, popular, easy to read accounts of what we got up to in Oxenfurt journals so that uptight students and nobles can read them and get a glimpse into what life is really like out here.

“You wrote detailed, academic papers on what we found and what we fought to combat the ignorance and misinformation. You attended and gave lectures on the subject. You would dash off to help wounded people and would stand over a terrified family with your spear in hand and kept them safe while I dealt with the monster terrorising them. I would have to be the one that held you back from getting in over your head and getting yourself killed.

“What happened to that guy? I liked that guy.

“We do these things because we can. We do these things to make the world a better place for the people who come next, when and where we can without getting ourselves killed of course.

“You wanna know where I learned that?

Then he looked at me again.

“I learned that from you Freddie.”

He stood again.

“Just so we're clear, Lord Frederick, and it seems that I am having to speak slowly and simply to you at the moment on a number of topics. Grief is an explanation, but not an excuse for shitty behaviour.” I felt my mouth open. “I am not saying you don't have a right to your grief and anger. Nor am I saying that you shouldn't be feeling those things. But you are turning into someone and something that I no longer like. Now sort your shit out. Children are dying. Fix it.”

“How?” I managed from somewhere.

“You know everything you need to know to be able to fix this already but, just so we can give you an incentive. Sort it out. Or I will. If I have to? I shall follow through on my threat. You will be delivered to the nearest patrol and I will depart on my self-appointed mission to find your sisters kidnappers alone. I am only going to step in if another child's life is threatened before you come to grips with this. Do you understand?”

I just stared at him.

“I see that you do. When you have figured it out, come and tell me which oil you need to coat your weapon with before you confront the thing.”

He spun on his heel and left.

I spent a long time waiting to see if he would come back.