Chapters (32)
- Epigraph
- Prologue
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Discover More
- extras
- meet the author
- if you enjoyed
- PART ONE
- By Andrzej Sapkowski
“What a jester!” he barked. “Don’t joke! I need your Riders urgently; I want to be able to summon them at will! So answer when I ask you a question!”
“Pax, Papa,” said the Wallcreeper, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t be cross, it’s not healthy. Wine, women and song, and anger on top of that. You’ll burst a blood vessel. And they’re liable to make some Pole bishop. And with regard to my answer, I’d rather it remained inter nos.”
The bishop gestured for Klaudyna to get up and a slap on her shapely behind was the sign for her to leave them. The girl snorted, pouted her crimson lips, glared at both of them, took a handful of sweetmeats from the dish and walked off, swinging her hips alluringly.
“The Riders are now ready to respond to orders immediately,” said the Wallcreeper when they were alone. “Several from the old guard are at Sensenberg. I have about a dozen new recruits here in Wrocław.”
“It confirms the rumours,” said the bishop, under lowered lids. “That you attract them to you using black magic, as moths are drawn to a flame. Hayn of Czirne, the commander of the mercenaries, complained that men are deserting from his company and each one is a worse scoundrel. But Knights Hospitaller? For Master Schlieben was also complaining.”
“I know you’re in a hurry, Papa. So I’m not fussy, I take what I can and the ganja and hash’eesh do the rest. Who else has been complaining about me?”
“Ulryk Pack, Lord of Klępino,” said Konrad in a voice tinged with mockery. “But regarding another matter. It’s not like you, son. You and a maiden?”
“Drop it, Bishop. And placate Pack.”
“I already have. And I didn’t have to make much of an effort. Returning ad rem: you have men at the ready. Will they be able to keep me safe? Protect me? If—contrary to your opinion—Reinmar of Bielawa is planning to kill me?”
“Reinmar of Bielawa isn’t planning to kill you. So if you only need my men to—”
“Not only,” interrupted the bishop.
They said nothing for a while. From the ladies’ chambers came the yapping of an Italian lapdog and the melodious voice of Miss Haunold hurling abuse at the servants.