‘Very well,’ Boholt said. ‘And now move nicely out of the way, your lordship. And should the desire to open your gob occur to you, quickly shove a bunch of grass into it. Because if I hear you whining again, I’ll give you something to remember me by.’

Boholt turned away and rubbed his hands.

‘Right, Gar, Beanpole, let’s get to work, because that reptile won’t hang around forever.’

‘Doesn’t seem to be planning on going anywhere,’ Dandelion said, looking at the foreground. ‘Look at it.’

The golden dragon on the hill yawned, lifted its head, waved its wings and lashed the ground with its tail.

‘King Niedamir and you, knights!’ it yelled with a roar like a brass trumpet. ‘I am the dragon Villentretenmerth! As I see, the landslide which I–though I say it, as shouldn’t–sent down on your heads did not completely stop you. You have come this far. As you know, there are only three ways out of this valley. East, towards Barefield, and west, towards Caingorn. And you may use those roads. You will not take the northern gorge, gentlemen, because I, Villentretenmerth, forbid you. However, if anyone does not wish to respect my injunction, I challenge him to fight an honourable, knightly duel. With conventional weapons, without spells, without breathing fire. A fight to the utter capitulation of one of the sides. I await an answer through your herald, as custom dictates!’

Everyone stood with their mouths open wide.

‘It can talk!’ Boholt panted. ‘Remarkable!’

‘Not only that, but very intelligently,’ Yarpen Zigrin said. ‘Anyone know what a confessional weapon is?’

‘An ordinary, non-magical one,’ Yennefer said frowning. ‘But something else puzzles me. With a forked tongue it’s not capable of articulated speech. The rogue is using telepathy! Be careful, it works in both directions. It can read your thoughts.’

‘Has it gone completely barmy, or what?’ Kennet Beanpole said, annoyed. ‘An honourable duel? With a stupid reptile? Not a chance! We’ll attack him together! There’s strength in numbers!’

‘No.’

They looked around.

Eyck of Denesle, already mounted in full armour, with his lance set by his stirrup, looked much better than he had on foot. His feverish eyes blazed from beneath his raised visor and his face was pale.

‘No, Kennet, sir,’ the knight repeated. ‘Unless it is over my dead body. I will not permit knightly honour to be insulted in my presence. Whomsoever dares to violate the principles of this honourable duel…’

Eyck was talking louder and louder. His exalted voice was cracking and he was trembling with excitement.

‘… whomsoever affronts honour, also affronts me, and his or my blood will be shed on this tired earth. The beast calls for a duel? Very well! Let the herald trumpet my name! May divine judgement decide! On the dragon’s side is the power of fang and talon and infernal fury, and on my side…’

‘What a moron,’ Yarpen Zigrin muttered. ‘… on my side righteousness, faith, the tears of virgins, whom this reptile—’