“That reminds me of another of our band’s marches.” Addario pointed at the toiling labourers. “Entitled Haymaking. We often play it, especially in the summer season. And sing along to it, too. We have a poet at the pit, he composed some clever rhymes; you can even sing it a cappella. It goes like this:

The men go forth to mow

The women they follow

They look up and they cower

They fear a damp’ning shower

We huddle to keep warm

And hide from the fierce storm

Our shafts we proudly vaunt

And the tempest we taunt

And from the beginning. It’s fine to march to, isn’t it?”

“Slow down, Addario!”

“You can’t slow down! It’s a marching song! With a marching rhythm and metre!”

* * *

There were some remains of a wall showing white on a hillock, and the ruins of a building and a familiar-looking tower. Geralt recognised the temple from the tower; he couldn’t remember which deity was linked to it, but he’d heard various stories about it. Priests had lived there long ago. Rumour had it that when their rapacity, riotous debauchery and lasciviousness could no longer be tolerated, the local residents chased them away and drove them into a dense forest, where, as rumour had it, they occupied themselves converting the forest spirits. Apparently with miserable results.

“It’s Old Erem,” pronounced Addario. “We’re sticking to our route and making good time. We should arrive in Sylvan Dam by evening.”

* * *

Upstream, the brook they were walking beside had bubbled over boulders and races, and once downstream spread out wide, forming a large pool. This was helped by a wood and earth dam that arrested the current. Some work was going on by the dam, a group of people were busily toiling there.

“We’re in Sylvan Dam,” said Addario. “The construction you can see down there is the dam itself. It’s used for floating timber from the clearing. The river, as you heed, is not navigable, being too shallow. So, the water level rises, the timber is gathered and then the dam is opened. That causes a large wave facilitating the rafting. The raw material for the production of charcoal is transported this way. Charcoal—”

“—is indispensable for the smelting of iron,” Geralt finished his sentence. “And smelting is the most important and most promising branch of industry. I know. That was clarified for me quite recently by a certain sorcerer. One familiar with charcoal and smelting.”