“I don’t think I made a good impression,” concluded the Witcher. “But I didn’t expect to, hence there is no disappointment. But that probably isn’t everything, is it? So much trouble to get me here… And that would be all? Why, if it’s like that… Will I find a tavern selling alcohol in the suburbs? Can I toddle along now?”

“No,” replied Harlan Tzara. “No, you can’t.”

“Because it’s by no means all,” added Pinety.

* * *

The chamber he was led to wasn’t typical of the rooms where sorcerers usually received applicants. Usually—Geralt was well acquainted with the custom—mages gave audiences in large rooms with very formal, often severe and cheerless décor. It was practically unthinkable for a sorcerer to receive anybody in a private, personal room, a room able to provide information about the disposition, tastes and predilections of a mage—particularly about the type and specific character of the magic they made.

This time it was totally different. The chamber’s walls were decorated with numerous prints and watercolours, every last one of them of erotic or downright pornographic character. Models of sailing ships were displayed on shelves, delighting the eye with the precision of their details. Miniature sails proudly billowed out on tiny ships in bottles. There were numerous display cases of various sizes full of toy soldiers: cavalry and infantry, in all sorts of formations. Opposite the entrance, also behind glass, hung a stuffed and mounted brown trout. Of considerable size, for a trout.

“Be seated, Witcher.” Pinety, it became clear at once, was in charge.

Geralt sat down, scrutinising the stuffed trout. The fish must have weighed a good fifteen pounds alive. Assuming it wasn’t a plaster imitation.

“Magic protects us from being eavesdropped upon.” Pinety swept a hand through the air. “We shall thus be able finally to speak freely about the real reasons for your being brought here, Geralt of Rivia. The trout which so interests you was caught on a fly in the River Ribbon and weighed fourteen pounds nine ounces. It was released alive, and the display case contains a magically created copy. And now please concentrate. On what I’m about to tell you.”

“I’m ready. For anything.”

“We’re curious to know what experience you have with demons.”

Geralt raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t been expecting that. And a short time before, he had thought that nothing would surprise him.

“And what is a demon? In your opinion?”

Harlan Tzara grimaced and shifted suddenly. Pinety appeased him with a look.