The Witcher

THE LESSER EVIL I

As usual, cats and children noticed him first. A striped tomcat sleeping on a sun-warmed stack of wood, shuddered, raised his round head, pulled back his ears, hissed and bolted off into the nettles. Three-year-old Dragomir, fisherman Trigla's son, who was sitting on the hut's threshold doing his best to make dirtier an already dirty shirt, started to scream as he fixed his tearful eyes on the passing rider.

The witcher rode slowly, without trying to overtake the hay-cart obstructing the road. A laden donkey trotted behind him, stretching its neck, and constantly pulling the cord tied to the witcher's pommel tight. In addition to the usual bags the long-eared animal was lugging a large shape, wrapped in a saddle-cloth, on its back. The grey-white flanks of the a*s were covered with black streaks of dried blood.

The cart finally turned down a side-street leading to a granary and harbour from which a sea-breeze blew, carrying the stink of tar and ox's urine. Geralt picked up his pace. He didn't react to the muffled cry of the woman selling vegetables who was staring at the bony, taloned paw sticking out beneath the horse-blanket, bobbing up and down in time with the donkey's trot.

He didn't look round at the crowd gathering behind him and rippling with excitement.

There were, as usual, many carts in front of the alderman's house. Geralt jumped from the saddle, adjusted the sword on his back and threw the reins over the wooden barrier. The crowd following him formed a semi-circle around the donkey.

Even outside, the alderman's shouts were audible.

'It's f*******n, I tell you! f*******n, goddammit! Can't you understand what I say, you scoundrel?'

Geralt entered. In front of the alderman, small, podgy and red with rage, stood a villager holding a struggling goose by the neck.

'What— By all the gods! Is that you, Geralt? Do my eyes deceive me?' And turning to the peasant again: 'Take it away, you boor! Are you deaf?'

'They said,' mumbled the villager, squinting at the goose, 'that a wee something must be given to his lordship, otherways—'

'Who said?' yelled the alderman. 'Who? That I supposedly take bribes? I won't allow it, I say!

Away with you! Greetings, Geralt.'

'Greetings, Caldemeyn.'

The alderman squeezed the witcher's hand, slapped him on the shoulder. 'You haven't been here for a good two years, Geralt. Eh? You can never stay in one place for long, can you?

Where are you coming from? Ah, dog's arse, what's the difference where? Hey, somebody bring us some beer! Sit down, Geralt, sit down. It's mayhem here because we've the market tomorrow. How are things with you, tell me!'

'Later. Come outside first.'

The crowd outside had grown two-fold but the empty space around the donkey hadn't grown any smaller. Geralt threw the horse-blanket aside. The crowd gasped and pulled back. Caldemeyn's mouth fell open.

'By all the gods, Geralt! What is it?'

'A kikimora. Is there any reward for it?'

Caldemeyn shifted from foot to foot, looking at the spidery shape with its dry black skin, that glassy eye with its vertical pupil, the needle-like fangs in the b****y jaws.

'Where— From where—?'

'On the dyke, not some four miles from town. On the swamps. Caldemeyn, people must have disappeared there. Children.'

'Well, yes, true enough. But nobody— Who could have guessed— Hey, folks, go home, get back to work! This isn't a show! Cover it up, Geralt. Flies are gathering.'

Back inside the alderman grabbed a large jug of beer without a

word and drank it to the last drop in one draught. He sighed deeply and sniffed.

'There's no reward,' he said gloomily. 'No one suspected that there was something like that lurking in the salt marshes. It's true that several people have disappeared in those parts, but. . .

Hardly anyone loitered on that dyke. And why were you there? Why weren't you taking the main road?'

'It's hard for me to make a living on main roads,Caldemeyn.'

'I forgot.' The alderman suppressed a belch, puffing out his cheeks. 'And this used to be such a peaceful neighbourhood. Even imps only rarely pissed in the women's milk. And here, right next to us, some sort of felispectre. It's only fitting that I thank you. Because as for paying you, I can't. I haven't the funds.'

'That's a shame. I could do with a small sum to get through the winter.' The witcher took a sip from his jug, wiped away the froth. 'I'm making my way to Yspaden, but I don't know if I'll get there before the snows block the way. I might get stuck in one of the little towns on the Lutonski road.'

'Do you plan to stay long in Blaviken?'

'No. I've no time to waste. Winter's coming.'

'Where are you going to stay? With me perhaps? There's an empty room in the attic. Why get fleeced by the innkeepers, those thieves. We'll have a chat and you can tell me what's happening in the big, wide world.'

'Willingly. But what will Libushe have to say about it? It was quite obvious last time that she's not very keen on me.'

'Women don't have a say in my house. But, just between us, don't do what you did during supper last time in front of her again.'

'You mean when I threw my fork at that rat?'

'No. I mean when you hit it, even in the dark.'

'I thought it would be amusing.'

'It was. But don't do it in front of Libushe. And listen, this . . . what's it called . . . Kiki—'

'Kikimora.'

'Do you need it for anything?'

'What would I want it for? You can have them throw it in the cesspool if there's no reward for it.'

'That's not a bad idea. Hey, Karelka, Borg, Carrypebble! Any of you there?'

A town guard entered with a halberd on his shoulder, the blade catching the doorframe with a crash.

'Carrypebble,' said Caldemeyn. 'Get somebody to help you and take the donkey with that muck wrapped up in the horse-blanket, lead it past the pigsties and chuck the kikimora in the cesspool. Understood?'

'At your command. But . . . Alderman, sir—'

'What?'

'Maybe before we drown that hideous thing—'

'Well?'

'We could show it to Master Irion. It might be useful to him.'

Caldemeyn slapped his forehead with his open palm.

'You're not stupid, Carrypebble. Listen, Geralt, maybe our local wizard will spare you something for that carcass. The fishermen bring him the oddest of fish — octopedes, clabaters or herrongs — many have made some money on them. Come on, let's go to the tower.'

'You've got yourselves a wizard? Is he here for good or only passing?'

'For good. Master Irion. He's been living in Blaviken for a year. A powerful magus, Geralt, you'll see that from his very appearance.'

'I doubt whether a powerful magus will pay for a kikimora,' Geralt grimaced. 'As far as I know it's not needed for any elixirs. Your Irion will only insult me, no doubt. We witchers and wizards don't love each other.'

'I've never heard of Master Irion insulting anyone. I can't swear that he'll pay you but there's no harm in trying. There might be more kikimoras like that on the marshes and what then? Let the wizard look at the monster and cast some sort of spell on the marshlands or something, just in case.'

The witcher thought for a moment.

'Very well, Caldemeyn. What the heck, we'll risk a meeting with Master Irion. Shall we go?'

'We're off. Carrypebble, chase the kids away and bring the floppyears. Where's my hat?'