‘Not in this war, Geralt. After this war there won’t be anybody or anything to return to. Nilfgaard is leaving smouldering embers behind it, the army is marching in a row and dragging everybody out. Scaffolds and stakes stretch for miles along the highways, smoke is rising into the sky across the entire horizon. You said there hasn’t been anything like this since the world has existed? Well, you were right. Since the world has existed. Our world. For it looks as though the Nilfgaardians have come from beyond the mountains to destroy our world.’

‘That makes no sense. Who would want to destroy the world? Wars aren’t waged to destroy. Wars are waged for two reasons. One is power and the other is money.’

‘Don’t philosophise, Geralt! You won’t change what’s happening with philosophy! Why won’t you listen? Why won’t you see? Why don’t you want to understand? Believe me, the Yaruga won’t stop the Nilfgaardians. In the winter, when the river freezes over, they’ll march on. I tell you, we must flee, flee to the North; they may not get that far. But even if they don’t, our world will never be what it was. Geralt, don’t leave me here! I’ll never survive by myself! Don’t leave me!’

‘You must be insane, Dandelion,’ the Witcher said, leaning over in the saddle. ‘You must be insane with fear, if you could think I’d leave you. Give me your hand and jump up on the horse. There’s nothing for you here, nor will you shove your way onto the ferry. I’ll take you upstream and then we’ll hunt for a boat or a ferry.’

‘The Nilfgaardians will capture us! They’re close now. Did you see those horsemen? They are clearly coming straight from the fighting. Let’s ride downstream towards the mouth of the Ina.’

‘Stop looking on the dark side. We’ll slip through, you’ll see. Crowds of people are heading downstream, it’ll be the same at every ferry as it is here, they’re sure to have nabbed all the boats too. We’ll ride upstream, against the current. Don’t worry, I’ll get you across on a log if I have to.’

‘The far bank’s barely visible!’

‘Don’t whinge. I said I’d get you across.’

‘What about you?’

‘Hop up onto the horse. We’ll talk on the way. Hey, not with that bloody sack! Do you want to break Roach’s back?’

‘Is it Roach? Roach was a bay, and she’s a chestnut.’

‘All of my horses are called Roach. You know that perfectly well; don’t try to get round me. I said get rid of that sack. What’s in it, dammit? Gold?’

‘Manuscripts! Poems! And some vittles…’

‘Throw it into the river. You can write some new poems. And I’ll share my food with you.’

Dandelion made a forlorn face, but did not ponder long, and hurled the sack into the water. He jumped onto the horse and wriggled around, making a place for himself on the saddlebags, and grabbed the Witcher’s belt.