“King Viraxas is plunged in mourning, as is the entire court. The banquet has been abandoned and the guests are asked to leave the palace and grounds. The king plans his own nuptials soon and then the banquet will be repeated. So as not to waste the vittals, the king has ordered for them to be taken to the city and placed in the town square. The vittals will also be shared with the folk of Palmyra. A time of happiness and prosperity is coming to Kerack!”

“My, my,” announced Coral, straightening her hair. “There is much truth in the claim that the death of the bridegroom is capable of seriously disrupting a wedding celebration. Belohun was not without his flaws, but there have been worse kings. May he rest in peace and may the earth rest lightly on him. Let’s go from here. In any case, it’s begun to be boring. And since it’s a beautiful day, let’s take a walk along the terraces and gaze at the sea. Poet, be so kind as to proffer your arm to my pupil. I’ll walk with Geralt. For he has something to tell me, methinks.”

It was still early afternoon. It was hard to believe that so much had happened in such a short time.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“Hey! Look!” Dandelion said suddenly. “A rat!”

Geralt didn’t react. He knew the poet and knew he tended to be afraid of any old thing or become enraptured by any old thing and sought out sensation where there was nothing worthy of the name.

“A rat!” said Dandelion, not giving up. “Oh, another! A third! A fourth! Bloody hell! Geralt, look.”

Geralt sighed and looked.

The foot of the cliff beneath the terrace was teeming with rats. The ground between Palmyra and the hill was alive, moving, undulating and squeaking. Hundreds—perhaps thousands—of rodents were fleeing from the harbour area and river mouth and scurrying uphill, along the palisade, onto the hill and into the trees. Other passers-by also noticed the phenomenon, and cries of amazement and fright rang out on all sides.

“The rats are fleeing Palmyra and the harbour because they’re frightened!” pronounced Dandelion. “I know what’s happened. A ship full of rat-catchers has probably tied up to the quay.”

No one felt like commenting. Geralt wiped the sweat from his eyelids. The heat was oppressive, and the hot air made breathing difficult. He looked up at the sky, which was clear, quite cloudless.

“There’s a storm coming,” Lytta said, articulating what he had thought himself. “A tremendous storm. The rats can sense it. And I can too. I can feel it in the air.”

I can too, thought the Witcher.

“A storm,” Coral repeated. “There’s a storm coming from the sea.”