“And so just the final details. Some of the bodies were missing. All the dead were decapitated. And the heads arranged in a pyramid, right here. There were fifteen heads and thirteen bodies. Two bodies disappeared.

“The dwellers of two other settlements, Yew Trees and Arches, were murdered in almost identical fashion,” the sorcerer continued after a short pause. “Nine people were killed in Yew Trees and twelve in Arches. I’ll take you there tomorrow. We still have to drop in at New Tarworks today, it’s not far. You’ll see what the manufacture of pitch and wood tar looks like. The next time you have to rub wood tar onto something you’ll know where it came from.”

“I have a question.”

“Yes?”

“Did you really have to resort to blackmail? Didn’t you believe I’d come to Rissberg of my own free will?”

“Opinions were divided.”

“Whose idea was it to throw me into a dungeon in Kerack, then release me, but still threaten me with the court? Who came up with the idea? It was Coral, wasn’t it?”

Pinety looked at him. For a long time.

“Yes,” he finally admitted. “It was her idea. And her plan. To imprison, release and threaten you. And then finally have the case dismissed. She sorted it out immediately after you left. Your file in Kerack is now as clean as a whistle. Any other questions? No? Let’s ride to New Tarworks then, and have a look at the wood tar. Then I’ll open the teleportal and we’ll return to Rissberg. In the evening, I’d like to pop out for a spot of fly-fishing. The mayflies are swarming, the trout will be feeding… Have you ever angled, Witcher? Does hunting attract you?”

“I hunt when I have an urge for a fish. I always carry a line with me.”

Pinety was silent for a long time.

“A line,” he finally uttered in a strange tone. “A line, with a lead weight. With many little hooks. On which you skewer worms?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Nothing. It was a needless question.”

* * *

He was heading towards Pinetops, the next charcoal burner settlement, when the forest suddenly fell silent. The jays were dumbstruck, the cries of magpies went silent all of an instant, the drumming of a woodpecker suddenly broke off. The forest had frozen in terror.

Geralt spurred his mare to a gallop.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The charcoal kiln in Pinetops was close to a logging site, as the charcoal burners used woody debris left over after felling. The burning had begun a short time before and foul-smelling, yellowish smoke was streaming from the top of the dome, as though from a volcano’s crater. The smell couldn’t mask the odour of death hanging over the clearing.

Geralt dismounted. And drew his sword.