The Witcher

THE LIMITS OF THE POSSIBLE II

The landlord wiped the uneven surface of the table with a cloth, bowed and smiled. He was missing two front teeth.

 "Yes..." Three Jackdaws stared for a moment at the blackened ceiling and watched the spiders walking playfully across it. "First... some beer. On second thoughts, a keg of beer. And with the beer... what do you recommend, my dear?"

 "Cheese?" the landlord suggested uncertainly.

 "No," frowned Borch, "Cheese should be for afters. With the beer we'd like something sour and spicy."

 "At your service," the landlord smiled even wider. His two front teeth were not the only ones that he lacked. "How about eels marinated in garlic and vinegar, or green pickles..."

 "Perfect. For two please. And after that, some soup. Like the one I ate last time with the mussels, small fish and other crap floating in it."

"Seafood soup?"

 "Yes. Next, roast lamb with eggs and onions. Then about sixty crayfish. Throw some fennel into the pan, as much as you can muster. Then ewe's cheese and a salad. After that... we'll see."

 "At your service. Is that for everyone? All four of you?"

 The tallest of the Zerricanians shook her head and patted her belly significantly, accentuating the way her linen shirt clung to her body.

 "I forgot," Three Jackdaws winked at Geralt, "The girls are watching their figures. Landlord!

 Lamb only for us two. Bring the beer and eels immediately, leave the rest for a while so that the other dishes don't get cold. We didn't come here to stuff our faces, just to spend time in pleasant conversation."

 "I understand completely, sir," replied the landlord, bowing once more.

 "Understanding - this is an important quality in your line of work. Give me your hand, my beauty," gold coin jingled and the landlord smiled as widely as possible.

 "This is not an advance," specified Three Jackdaws, "it's a little extra. Now get back to your kitchen, my good fellow."

 It was hot in the alcove. Geralt loosened his belt, removed his doublet then rolled up the sleeves of his shirt.

 "I see you're not troubled by lack of silver," he said, "Do you live by the privileges of knighthood?"

 "Partly," Three Jackdaws smiled in answer and didn't elaborate.

 They made short work of the eels and quarter of the beer barrel. Although the Zerricanians were obviously enjoying the evening, they did not drink much of the beer. They spoke together quietly until Vea suddenly burst into throaty laughter.

 "Do the girls speak the common language?" asked Geralt as he watched them out of the corner of his eye.

 "Badly. And they're not exactly chatterboxes, which is nice. How's your soup, Geralt?"

 "Hmm."

 "Drink up."

 "Hmm."

 "Geralt..." Three Jackdaws gestured with his spoon and belched discretely, "Returning for one moment to the conversation we had whilst on the road: it's my understanding, witcher, that you wander from one end of the world to the other, killing any monsters you meet along the way - for pay. That is your job, isn't it?"

 "More or less."

 "What if somebody personally appeals to you to go somewhere specific? Say to carry out a special order. What do you do then?"

 "That depends on who's asking me and what they have in mind."

 "And the wages?"

 "That too," the witcher shrugged, "'Everything becomes more expensive if you want to live well' as one of my magician friends likes to say."

 "Quite a selective approach, and I would say very practical. Yet there is a certain principal underlying it, Geralt. The conflict between the forces of Order and those of Chaos, as one of my wizard friends likes to say. I imagine that you always take missions that involve protecting humans from the Evil that is all around us. Undoubtedly this places you on the good side of the fence."

 "The forces of Order, the forces of Chaos... what grand words, Borch. You want at all costs for me to place myself on one side of the fence in a conflict that all regard as eternal, a conflict that's been going on since before we were born and will continue long after we're gone. On which side should the blacksmith place himself in this business? Or the landlord who hurries to bring us roast lamb? What, according to you, defines the boundary between Chaos and Order?"

 "It's very simple," Three Jackdaws looked the witcher right in the eye, "Chaos represents a threat. It is on the side of violence and aggression. Order, on the other hand, opposes it. That is why it must be protected and needs someone to defend it. But let us drink and make a start on this lamb."

 "Good idea."

 Still concerned for their figures, the Zerricanians had taken a break from eating to devote themselves to drinking at an accelerated pace. Vea leaned on the shoulder of her companion, and murmured something in her ear, her braids brushing the tabletop. Tea, the shorter of the two, burst into laughter, her tattooed eyelids blinking merrily.

 "Well," continued Borch, gnawing on a bone. "Let us continue our conversation, if you'll permit. I see that prefer not to take sides in the conflict between the forces. You just want to do your job."

 "Yes."

 "But you cannot escape the conflict between Order and Chaos. In spite of your comparison, you're not a blacksmith. I saw how you work; you enter an underground tunnel and come out of it with a small, mangled basilisk. There is a difference, my pretty, between shoeing horses and killing basilisks. You've already indicated that you'll journey to the other side of the world to slay a certain monster if the pay is worth it. Let's say a fierce dragon destroys..."

 "Bad example," interrupted Geralt. "You see, the boundary becomes blurred already. I don't kill dragons, in spite of the fact they no doubt represent Chaos."

 "Why is that?" Three Jackdaws licked his fingers, "But that's outrageous! Surely of all the monsters, the dragon is the most dangerous, vicious and cruel. Most terrible of all the reptiles.

 It attacks humans, spits fire and it even steals virgins! Haven't you heard enough stories about that? Is it possible that you, witcher, do not have a few dragon slayings in your list of accomplishments?"

 "I do not hunt dragons," Geralt replied dryly, "Giant centipedes, yes. Dracolizards, dermopterans but not real dragons, greens, blacks or reds. Make no mistake about it."

 "You astonish me," replied Three Jackdaws, "But nevertheless, I get the message. Enough talking about dragons for now. I see something red on the horizon; undoubtedly our crayfish.

 Drink up!"

 They noisily broke the shells with their teeth and sucked out the white flesh. Salty water, stinging painfully, ran down to their wrists. Borch served up some more beer, scraping the bottom of the small cask with the ladle, while the Zerricanians amused themselves by watching the goings on around them. They laughed unpleasantly at a soothsayer on the next table over and the witcher was convinced that they were looking for a fight. Three Jackdaws also noticed it and waved a crayfish at them threateningly. The girls giggled, Tea blowing him a kiss and giving him an ostentatious wink. Her tattoos made the gesture slightly macabre.

 "They truly are wildcats," murmured Three Jackdaws to Geralt. "They must be watched all the time otherwise, in less than two seconds flat and without warning, the ground is likely to be strewn with entrails. However, they are worth all the money in the world. Did you know that they can..?"

 "I know," replied Geralt, nodding. "It is difficult to find a better escort. Zerricanians are born warriors, trained in combat from a very early age."

 "I wasn't talking about that." Borch spat a crayfish pincer onto the table. "I was thinking about their performance in bed."

 Geralt watched the young girls out of the corner of his eye. Both smiled and Vea seized a shellfish, as quick as a flash. She cracked the carapace with her teeth and blinked as she regarded the witcher. Her lips glistened with the salty water. Three Jackdaws belched loudly.

 "So, Geralt," he continued, "you don't hunt dragons, green or otherwise. I'll bear it in mind.

 Why categorise them by these three colours, may I ask?"

 "Four colours, to be precise."

 "You only mentioned three."

 "You seem to have a great interest in dragons, Borch. Is there a particular reason?"

"I'm just curious."

 "These colours are the customary categorisation, although not a precise one. Green dragons are most widespread though in fact they are rather gray, like dracolizards. To tell you the truth the reds are more red brown, the colour of brick. The large dark brown dragons are usually called black dragons. Rarest of all are the white dragons. I've never seen one. They live in the far North, apparently."

 "Interesting. Do you know what other types of dragons I've heard of?"

 "I know," replied Geralt, swallowing a mouthful of beer. "I've also heard of them: the gold.

 But they don't exist."

 "But how can you be sure? Just because you've never seen one? You've never seen a white one either."

 "That's not the point. Across the seas, in Ofir and Zangwebar, there are white horses with black stripes. I've never seen those either, but I know that they exist. The golden dragon is a myth, a legend, like the phoenix. Phoenixes and golden dragons do not exist."

 Vea, leaning on her elbows, looked at him curiously.

 "You certainly know what you're talking about - you're a witcher," said Borch drawing some more beer from the small keg. "However, I think any myth, any legend, can contain a grain of truth that sometimes can't be ignored."

 "That is so," confirmed Geralt, "but that is the territory of dreams, hopes and desires: it's about the belief that there is no limit to what is possible, just because there is sometimes a wild chance that it might be true."

 "Chance, exactly. It may be there once was a golden dragon; the product of a single, unique mutation."

 "If that's the case, that dragon would've suffered the fate of all mutants," the witcher bowed his head. "It couldn't survive, because it's too different."

 "Now you oppose natural law, Geralt. My wizard friend was in the habit of saying that each and every being can prevail in nature in one manner or another. The end of one existence always announces the beginning of another. There is no limit, at least when it comes to nature."

 "Your wizard friend was a huge optimist. There is one element he didn't take into consideration; errors made by nature or those that play with it. The golden dragon and all the other mutants of its species, even if they have existed, could not survive. A natural limit inherent in them has prevented it."

"What's that?"

 "Mutants..." the muscles in Geralt's jaw tensed, "Mutants are sterile, Borch. Only legends permit what nature condemns. Only myths can ignore the limits of what's possible."

Three Jackdaws remained silent. Geralt saw that the girls' faces had suddenly become serious.

 Vea quickly leaned towards him, embracing him with her hard, muscular arms. He felt her lips on his cheek, wet with beer.

 "They like you," said Three Jackdaws slowly, "The devil take it, they like you!"

 "What's so strange about that?" replied the witcher, smiling sadly.

 "Nothing. But a toast is necessary. Landlord! Another keg!"

 "Not that much. A tankard at most."

 "Make that two tankards!" shouted Three Jackdaws. "Tea, I must leave for a moment."

 The Zerricanian picked up her sabre from the bench as she rose before inspecting the room with a tired glance. The witcher noticed several pairs of eyes sparkle with greed at the sight of Borch's overstuffed coin-purse, but nobody dared to follow him as he staggered in the direction of the courtyard. Tea shrugged before following her employer.

 "What's your real name?" asked Geralt of the girl who remained sitting at the table.

 Vea smiled revealing a line of white teeth, much of her shirt was unbuttoned as far as the last possible limit of decency allowed. Geralt did not doubt for an instant that her demeanour was designed to test the resistance of the other patrons in the room.

 "Alveaenerle."

 "That's beautiful." The witcher was sure that the Zerricanian now gazed at him doe-eyed, seductively. He was not mistaken.

 "Vea?"

 "Hmm..."

 "Why do you ride with Borch? Warriors love of freedom. Can you tell me?"

 "Hmm..."

 "Hmm, what?"

 "He is..." the Zerricanian wrinkled her brow while she tried to find the right words, "He is the most... the most beautiful."

 The witcher shook his head. The criteria used by women to assess the desirability of men had always been an enigma to him.

 Three Jackdaws burst into the alcove re-buttoning his trousers and gave a loud command to the landlord. Tea, two steps behind him, feigned boredom as she looked around the tavern, the merchants and the mariners present avoiding her eyes. Vea sucked at a crayfish while casting the witcher knowing glances.

 "I'll have another order of eel for everyone, braised this time," Three Jackdaws sat down heavily, his still open belt jangled. "I'm tired of crayfish and I'm still hungry. I have reserved you a room, Geralt. You have no reason to be wandering this night. Let's have some more fun. To your health, girls!"

 "Vessekheal," Vea replied, holding up her glass. Tea blinked and stretched. Her lovely breasts, contrary to Geralt's expectations, did not burst out of her shirt.

 "Let's have some fun!" Three Jackdaws leaned across the table, and slapped Tea on the behind, "Let's party, witcher, Hey! Landlord! Over here!" The landlord quickly approached them, wiping his hands on his apron. "Do you have a large tub? Like one for washing linen in: solid and roomy."

 "How big, sir?"

 "For four people."

 "For... four," repeated the landlord smiling widely.

 "Four," confirmed Three Jackdaws, pulling his full coin-purse out of his pocket.

 "We'll find one for you," promised the landlord as he moistened his lips.

 "Perfect," replied Borch, all smiles. "Order one and bring it up into my room and see that it's filled with hot water. Get to it, my dear chap, and don't forget beer and at least three tankards." The Zerricanians laughed and winked at the witcher.

 "Which do you prefer?" asked Three Jackdaws. "Huh, Geralt?"

 The witcher scratched his head.

 "I know it's a difficult choice," continued Three Jackdaws with a knowing air. "I also have trouble sometimes. Well, we will decide when we're in the tub. Hey, girls! Help me up the stairs."