“Your witcher code,” continued the sorcerer, “reportedly forbids the killing of people. But it is said about you that you don’t treat the code with due reverence. That this and that has occurred, that several people have departed this life thanks to you. Biruta and the others got cold feet, fearing that you’d return to Rissberg and finish the job, and that they were in line for a beating too. But the Citadel is a fully secure refuge, a former gnomish mountain fortress converted into a laboratory and currently under magical protection. No one can get into the Citadel, there is no possibility. Degerlund is thus not only isolated but also safe.”

Rissberg is also safe, the Witcher thought to himself. Safe from scandals and embarrassment. With Degerlund in isolation there’s no scandal. No one will ever know that the crafty bastard and careerist tricked and led up the garden path the sorcerers of Rissberg, who believe themselves and declare themselves to be the elite of the magical fraternity. Or know that a degenerate psychopath took advantage of the naivety and stupidity of that elite and managed without any hindrance to kill almost four dozen people.

“Degerlund will be under supervision and observation in the Citadel,” the sorcerer said, looking him in the eye the whole time. “He won’t call forth any demon.”

There never was a demon. And you, Pinety, know that only too well.

“The Citadel,” said the sorcerer, looking away and observing the ships at anchor, “is built into the rock of the Mount Cremora massif, at the foot of which lies Rissberg. An attempt to storm it would be tantamount to suicide. Not only owing to the magical protection. Do you remember what you told us back then? About that possessed person whom you once killed? In case of absolute necessity, protecting one good at the cost of another, precluding the lawlessness of a forbidden deed in the process. Well, you must understand that the circumstances are now quite different. In isolation, Degerlund doesn’t represent a genuine or direct threat. Were you to lay a finger on him, you would be committing a forbidden and lawless deed. Were you to try to kill him, you would go to court accused of attempted murder. Some of our people, I happen to know, hope you will nonetheless try. And end up on the scaffold. So, I advise you: let it go. Forget about Degerlund. Leave it to run its course.

“You say nothing.” Pinety stated a fact. “You’re keeping your comments to yourself.”

“Because there’s nothing to say. I’m only curious about one thing. You and Tzara. Will you remain at Rissberg?”

Pinety laughed. Dryly and hollowly.