‘Geralt,’ Dandelion groaned. ‘He’s earned more in three days than I’ve earned in my whole life by singing!’

‘In your place,’ the Witcher said gravely, ‘I’d quit singing and take up commerce. Ask him, he may take you on as an apprentice.’

‘Witcher,’ Tellico said, tugging him by the sleeve. ‘Tell me how I could… repay you…?’

‘Twenty-two crowns.’

‘What?’

‘For a new jacket. Look what’s left of mine.’

‘Do you know what?’ Dandelion suddenly yelled. ‘Let’s all go to the house of ill repute! To Passiflora! The Biberveldts are paying!’

‘Do they admit halflings?’ Dainty asked with concern.

‘Just let them try not to,’ Chappelle put on a menacing expression. ‘Just let them try and I’ll accuse their entire bordello of heresy.’

‘Right,’ Dandelion called. ‘Very satisfactory. Geralt? Are you coming?’

The Witcher laughed softly.

‘Do you know what, Dandelion?’ he said. ‘I’ll come with pleasure.’

A LITTLE SACRIFICE

I

The mermaid emerged to waist-height from the water and splashed her hands violently and hard against the surface. Geralt saw that she had gorgeous, utterly perfect breasts. Only the colour spoiled the effect; the nipples were dark green and the areolae around them were only a little lighter. Nimbly aligning herself with an approaching wave, the mermaid arched gracefully, shook her wet, willow-green hair and sang melodiously.

‘What?’ The duke leaned over the side of the cog. ‘What is she saying?’

‘She’s declining,’ Geralt said. ‘She says she doesn’t want to.’

‘Have you explained that I love her? That I can’t imagine life without her? That I want to wed her? Only her, no other?’

‘Yes, I have.’

‘And?’

‘And nothing.’

‘Say it again.’

The Witcher touched his lips and produced a quavering warble. Struggling to find the words and the intonation, he began to translate the duke’s avowal.

The mermaid, lying back on the water, interrupted.

‘Don’t translate, don’t tire yourself,’ she sang. ‘I understand. When he says he loves me he always puts on such a foolish expression. Did he say anything definite?’

‘Not really.’

‘Pity,’ the mermaid said, before she flapped in the water and dived under, flexing her tail powerfully and making the sea foam with her notched flukes, which resembled the tail of a mullet.

‘What? What did she say?’ the duke asked.

‘That it’s a shame.’

‘What’s a shame? What does she mean, “shame”?’

‘I’d say she turned you down.’

‘Nobody refuses me!’ the duke roared, denying the obvious facts.

‘My Lord,’ the skipper of the cog muttered, walking over to them. ‘The nets are ready, all we need do is cast them and she will be yours…’

‘I wouldn’t advise it,’ Geralt said softly. ‘She’s not alone. There are more of them beneath the waves, and there may be a kraken deeper down there.’

The skipper quaked, blanched and seized his backside with both hands, in a nonsensical gesture.

‘A kra—kraken?’

‘Yes, a kraken,’ the Witcher repeated. ‘I don’t advise fooling around with nets. All she need do is scream, and all that’ll be left of this tub will be a few floating planks. They’d drown us like kittens. Besides, Agloval, you should decide whether you want to wed her or catch her in a net and keep her in a barrel.’