‘Geralt?’

‘Yes, Calanthe?’

‘Don’t you believe in destiny?’

‘I don’t know if I believe in anything. And as regards… I fear it isn’t enough. Something more is necessary.’

‘I must ask you something. What happened to you? I mean you were reputedly a Child of Destiny yourself. Mousesack claims—’

‘No, Calanthe. Mousesack was thinking about something completely different. Mousesack… He probably knows. But he uses those convenient myths when it suits him. It’s not true that I was an unexpected encounter at home, as a child. That’s not how I became a witcher. I’m a commonplace foundling, Calanthe. The unwanted bastard of a woman I don’t remember. But I know who she is.’

The queen looked at him penetratingly, but the Witcher did not continue.

‘Are all stories about the Law of Surprise myths?’

‘Yes. It’s hard to call an accident destiny.’

‘But you witchers do not stop searching?’

‘No, we don’t. But it’s senseless. Nothing has any point.’

‘Do you believe a Child of Destiny would pass through the Trials without danger?’

‘We believe such a child would not require the Trials.’

‘One question, Geralt. Quite a personal one. May I?’

He nodded.

‘There is no better way to pass on hereditary traits than the natural way, as we know. You went through the Trials and survived. So if you need a child with special qualities and endurance… Why don’t you find a woman who… I’m tactless, aren’t I? But I think I’ve guessed, haven’t I?’

‘As usual,’ he said, smiling sadly, ‘you are correct in your deductions, Calanthe. You guessed right, of course. What you’re suggesting is impossible for me.’

‘Forgive me,’ she said, and the smile vanished from her face. ‘Oh, well, it’s a human thing.’

‘It isn’t human.’

‘Ah… So, no witcher can—’

‘No, none. The Trial of the Grasses, Calanthe, is dreadful. And what is done to boys during the time of the Changes is even worse. And irreversible.’

‘Don’t start feeling sorry for yourself,’ she muttered. ‘Because it ill behooves you. It doesn’t matter what was done to you. I can see the results. Quite satisfactory, if you ask me. If I could assume that Pavetta’s child would one day be similar to you I wouldn’t hesitate for a moment.’

‘The risks are too great,’ he said quickly. ‘As you said. At most, four out of ten survive.’

‘Dammit, is only the Trial of the Grasses hazardous? Do only potential witchers take risks? Life is full of hazards, selection also occurs in life, Geralt. Misfortune, sicknesses and wars also select. Defying destiny may be just as hazardous as succumbing to it. Geralt… I would give you the child. But… I’m afraid, too.’

‘I wouldn’t take the child. I couldn’t assume the responsibility. I wouldn’t agree to burden you with it. I wouldn’t want the child to tell you one day… As I’m telling you—’

‘Do you hate that woman, Geralt?’

‘My mother? No, Calanthe. I presume she had a choice… Or perhaps she didn’t? No, but she did; a suitable spell or elixir would have been sufficient… A choice. A choice which should be respected, for it is the holy and irrefutable right of every woman. Emotions are unimportant here. She had the irrefutable right to her decision and she took it. But I think that an encounter with her, the face she would make then… Would give me something of a perverse pleasure, if you know what I mean.’