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with Vissegerd. 'Enough of these arguments. Drogodar, sir! Don't waste your talent! Indeed,
your beautiful though quiet tunes should be listened to with greater concentration and gravity.
Draig Bon-Dhu, stop scoffing and guzzling! You're not going to impress anyone here like
that. Pump up your bagpipes and delight our ears with decent martial music. With your
permission, noble Calanthe!'
'Oh mother of mine,' whispered the queen to Geralt, raising her eyes to the vault for a moment
in silent resignation. But she nodded her permission, smiling openly and kindly.
'Draig Bon-Dhu,' said Eist, 'play us the song of the battle of Hochebuz. It won't leave us in
any doubt as to the tactical manoeuvres of commanders - or as to who acquired immortal
fame there! To the health of the heroic Calanthe of Cintra!'
'The health! And glory!' The guests roared, emptying their goblets and clay cups.
Draig Bon-Dhu's bagpipes gave out an ominous drone and burst into a terrible, drawn-out,
modulated wail. The guests took up the song, beating out a rhythm on the table with whatever
came to hand. Coodcoodak was staring avidly at the goat-leather sack, captivated by the idea
of adopting its dreadful tones in his own repertoire.
'Hochebuz,' said Calante, looking at Geralt, 'my first battle.
Although I fear rousing the indignation and contempt of such a proud witcher, I confess that
we were fighting for money. Our enemy was burning villages which paid us levies and we,
greedy for our tributes, challenged them on the field. A trivial reason, a trivial battle, a trivial
three thousand corpses pecked to pieces by the crows. And look - instead of being ashamed
I'm proud as a peacock that songs are sung about me. Even when sung to such awful music'
Again she summoned her parody of a smile full of happiness and kindness, and answered the
toast raised to her by lifting her own, empty, goblet. Geralt remained silent.
'Let's go on.' Calanthe accepted a pheasant leg offered to her by Drogodar and picked at it
gracefully. 'As I said, you've aroused my interest. I've been told that witchers are an
interesting caste, but I didn't really believe it. Now I do. When hit you give a note which
shows you're fashioned of pure steel, unlike these men moulded from bird shit. Which doesn't,
in any way, change the fact that you're here to execute a task. And you'll do it without being
so clever.'
Geralt didn't smile disrespectfully or nastily, although he very much wanted to. He held his
silence.
'I thought,' murmured the queen, appearing to give her full attention to the pheasant's thigh,
'that you'd say something. Or smile. No? All the better. Can I consider our negotiations
concluded?'
'Unclear tasks,' said the witcher dryly, 'can't be clearly executed.'
'What's unclear? You did, after all, guess correctly. I have plans regarding a marriage alliance
with Skellige. These plans are threatened, and I need you to eliminate the treat. But here your
shrewdness ends. The supposition that I mistake your trade for that of a hired thug has piqued
me greatly. Accept, Geralt, that I belong to that select group of rulers who know exactly what
witchers do, and how they ought to be employed. On the other hand, if someone kills as
efficiently as you do, even though not for money, he shouldn't be surprised if people credit
him with being a professional in that field. Your fame runs ahead of you,
Geralt, it's louder than Draig Bon-Dhu's accursed bagpipes, and there are equally few pleasant
notes in it.'
The bagpipe player, although he couldn't hear the queen's words, finished his concert. The
guests rewarded him with an uproarious ovation and dedicated themselves with renewed zeal
to the remains of the banquet, recalling battles and making rude jokes about womenfolk.
Coodcoodak was making a series of loud noises, but there was no way to tell if these were yet
another animal imitation, or an attempt to relieve his overloaded stomach.
Eist Tuirseach leant far across the table. 'Your Majesty,' he said, 'there are good reasons, I am
sure, for your dedication to the lord from Fourhorn, but it's high time we saw Princess
Pavetta. What are we waiting for? Surely not for Crach an Craite to get drunk? And even that
moment is almost here.'
'You're right as usual, Eist,' Calanthe smiled warmly. Geralt was amazed by her arsenal of
smiles. 'Indeed, I do have important matters to discuss with the Honourable Ravix. I'll
dedicate some time to you too, but you know my principle: duty then pleasure. Haxo!'
She raised her hand and beckoned the castellan. Haxo rose without a word, bowed, and
quickly ran upstairs, disappearing into the dark gallery. The queen turned to the witcher.
'You heard? We've been debating for too long. If Pavetta has stopped preening in front of the
looking-glass she'll be here presently. So prick up your ears because I won't repeat this. I want
to achieve the ends which,, to a certain degree, you have guessed. There can be no other
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