Dhun got up from the bench. His head almost touched the beams.

“Leave, lass,” he growled. “Take the old woman and leave.”

“Who is she, honorable Dhun?” the witcher demanded as the door closed behind Lille and the woman. “Who is that girl? Why does she enjoy more respect from you than that bloody book?”

“It be nae yer business.” Dhun looked at him, and there was no friendliness in his eyes. “Persecute wise women in your own town, burn stakes in yer own land. There has been none of it here, nor will there be.”

“You didn’t understand me,” said the witcher coldly.

“Because I did nae try,” growled Dhun.

“Pnoticed,” Geralt said through his teeth, making no effort to be cordial. “But be so gracious as to understand something, honorable Dhun. We have no agreement. I haven’t committed myself to you in any way. You have no reason to believe that you’ve bought yourself a witcher who, for a silver penny or three halves, will do what you can’t do yourselves. Or don’t want to do. Or aren’t allowed to. No, honorable Dhun. You have not bought yourself a witcher yet, and I don’t think you’ll succeed in doing so. Not with your reluctance to understand.”

Dhun remained silent, measuring Geralt with a gloomy stare.

Nettly cleared his throat and wriggled on the bench, shuffling his rag sandals on the dirt floor, then suddenly straightened up.

“Witcher, sir,” he said. “Do nae be enraged. We will tell ye, what and how. Dhun?”

The elder of the village nodded and sat down.

“As we be riding here,” began Nettly, “ye did notice how everything here grows, the great harvests we have? There be nae many places ye see all grow like this, if there be any such. Seedlings and seeds be so important to us that ‘tis with them we pay our levies and we sell them and use them to barter—”

“What’s that got to do with the devil?”

“The deovel was wont to make a nuisance of himself and play silly tricks, and then he be starting to steal a great deal of grain. At the beginning, we be bringing him a little to the stone in the hemp, thinking his fill he’d eat and leave us in peace. Naught of it. With a vengeance he went on stealing. And when we started to hide our supplies in shops and sheds, well locked and bolted, ‘tis furious he grew, sir, he roared, bleated. ‘Uk! Uk!’ he called, and when he goes ‘Uk! Uk!’ ye’d do best to run for yer life. He threatened to—”

“—screw,” Dandilion threw in with a ribald smile.

“That too,” agreed Nettly. “Oh, and he mentioned a fire. Talk long as we may, he could nae steal so ‘tis levies he demanded. He ordered grain and other goods be brought him by the sackful. Riled we were then and intending to beat his tailed arse. But—” The freeman cleared his throat and lowered his head.