The forehead and cheeks of Axel Esparza, more widely known as Pockmarked Axel, were indeed covered with pitted scars. He hadn’t removed them, so went the rumour, out of sheer contrariness. The slightly grizzled Myles Trethevey and slightly more grizzled Stucco Zangenis examined the Witcher with moderate interest. The interest of Biruta Icarti, a moderately attractive blonde, seemed a little greater. Tarvix Sandoval, broad-shouldered, with a physique more befitting a knight than a sorcerer, looked to one side, at the tapestry, as though he was also admiring the stain and was wondering where it came from and who was responsible for it.

The seat nearest Ortolan was occupied by Sorel Degerlund, apparently the youngest of those present, whose long hair lent him a slightly effeminate look.

“We, too, welcome the famous Witcher, the defender of folk,” said Biruta Icarti. “We are glad to welcome you, since we also toil in this castle under the auspices of Grandmaster Ortolan, in order that thanks to progress we will make people’s lives safer and easier. People’s best interests are our overriding goal, too. The grandmaster’s age doesn’t permit us overly to prolong the audience. Thus, I shall ask what is appropriate: do you have any wishes, Geralt of Rivia? Is there something we can do for you?”

“I thank you, Grandmaster Ortolan.” Geralt bowed again. “And you, distinguished sorcerers. And since you embolden me with the question… Yes, there is something you can do for me. You could enlighten me… about this. This thing. I tore it from a vigilosaur I killed.”

He placed on the table the oval plate the size of a child’s hand. With characters embossed in it.

“RISS PSREP Mk IV/002 025,” Pockmarked Axel read aloud. And passed the plate to Sandoval.

“It’s a mutation, created here, by us, at Rissberg,” Sandoval stated bluntly. “In the pseudoreptile section. It’s a guard lizard. Mark four, series two, specimen twenty-five. Obsolete, we’ve been manufacturing an improved model for a long time. What else needs explaining?”

“He says he killed the vigilosaur.” Stucco Zangenis grimaced. “So, it’s not about an explanation, but a claim. We only accept and look into complaints, Witcher, from legal buyers, and only on the basis of proof of purchase. We only service and remove defects on the basis of proof of purchase…”

“That model’s guarantee expired long ago,” added Myles Trethevey. “And anyway, no guarantee covers defects resulting from inappropriate use of the product or in breach of the operating instructions. If the product was used inappropriately, Rissberg doesn’t take responsibility. Of any kind.”

“And do you take responsibility for this?” Geralt took another plate from his pocket and threw it down on the table.

The other plate was similar in shape and size to the previous one, but darkened and tarnished. Dirt had become embedded and fused into the grooves. But the characters were still legible:

IDR UL Ex IX 0012 BETA.

A long silence fell.