‘I guessed as much. But you said it as you might have said “I’m a leper”.’

‘There are those,’ Geralt said slowly, ‘who prefer the company of lepers to that of a witcher.’

‘There are also those,’ Three Jackdaws laughed, ‘who prefer sheep to girls. Ah, well, one can only sympathise with the former and the latter. I repeat my proposal.’

Geralt took off his glove and shook the hand being proffered.

‘I accept, glad to have made your acquaintance.’

‘Then let us go, for I hunger.’

II

The innkeeper wiped the rough table top with a cloth, bowed and smiled. Two of his front teeth were missing.

‘Right, then…’ Three Jackdaws looked up for a while at the blackened ceiling and the spiders dancing about beneath it.

‘First… First, beer. To save your legs, an entire keg. And to go with the beer… What do you propose with the beer, comrade?’

‘Cheese?’ risked the innkeeper.

‘No,’ Borch grimaced. ‘We’ll have cheese for dessert. We want something sour and spicy with the beer.’

‘At your service,’ the innkeeper smiled even more broadly. His two front teeth were not the only ones he lacked. ‘Elvers with garlic in olive oil and green pepper pods in vinegar or marinated…’

‘Very well. We’ll take both. And then that soup I once ate here, with diverse molluscs, little fish and other tasty morsels floating in it.’

‘Log drivers’ soup?’

‘The very same. And then roast lamb with onions. And then three-score crayfish. Throw as much dill into the pot as you can. After that, sheep’s cheese and lettuce. And then we’ll see.’

‘At your service. Is that for everyone? I mean, four times?’

The taller Zerrikanian shook her head, patting herself knowingly on her waist, which was now hugged by a tight, linen blouse.

‘I forgot.’ Three Jackdaws winked at Geralt. ‘The girls are watching their figures. Lamb just for the two of us, innkeeper. Serve the beer right now, with those elvers. No, wait a while, so they don’t go cold. We didn’t come here to stuff ourselves, but simply to spend some time in conversation.’

‘Very good.’ The innkeeper bowed once more.

‘Prudence is a matter of import in your profession. Give me your hand, comrade.’

Gold coins jingled. The innkeeper opened his gap-toothed mouth to the limit.

‘That is not an advance,’ Three Jackdaws announced, ‘it is a bonus. And now hurry off to the kitchen, good fellow.’

It was warm in the snug. Geralt unbuckled his belt, took off his tunic and rolled up his shirtsleeves.

‘I see,’ he said, ‘that you aren’t troubled by a shortage of funds. Do you live on the privileges of a knightly estate?’

‘Partially,’ Three Jackdaws smiled, without offering further details.

They dealt quickly with the elvers and a quarter of the keg. Neither of the two Zerrikanians stinted on the beer, and soon were both in visible good humour. They were whispering something to each other. Véa, the taller one, suddenly burst out in throaty laughter.