The witcher did not stir. He stood calmly.

“You’d better leave, Lord Ostrit,” he said. “It’s growing dark.”

Ostrit took a step back, drew his sword in a flash.

“You asked for this, you sorcerer. I’ll kill you. Your tricks won’t help you. I carry a turtle-stone.”

Geralt smiled. The reputation of turtle-stone was as mistaken as it was popular. But the witcher was not going to lose his strength on spells, much less expose his silver sword to contact with Ostrit’s blade. He dived under the whirling blade and, with the heel of his hand and his silver-studded cuff, hit him in the temple.

VI

Ostrit quickly regained consciousness and looked around in the total darkness. He noticed that he was tied up. He did not see Geralt standing right beside him. But he realized where he was and let out a prolonged, terrifying howl.

“Keep quiet,” said the witcher. “Otherwise you’ll lure her out before her time.”

“You damned murderer! Where are you? Untie me immediately, you louse! You’ll hang for this, you son of a bitch!”

“Quiet.”

Ostrit panted heavily.

“You’re leaving me here to be devoured by her! Tied up?” he asked, quieter now, whispering a vile invective.

“No,” said the witcher. “I’ll let you go. But not now.”

“You scoundrel,” hissed Ostrit. “To distract the striga?”

“Yes.”

Ostrit didn’t say anything. He stopped wriggling and lay quietly.

“Witcher?”

“Yes.”

“It’s true that I wanted to overthrow Foltest. I’m not the only one. But I am the only one who wanted him dead. I wanted him to die in agony, to go mad, to rot alive. Do you know why?”

Geralt remained silent.

“I loved Adda. The king’s sister. The king’s mistress. The king’s trollop. I loved her—Witcher, are you there?”

“I am.”

“I know what you’re thinking. But it wasn’t like that. Believe me, I didn’t cast any spells. I don’t know anything about magic. Only once in anger did I say… Only once. Witcher? Are you listening?”

“I am.”

“It’s his mother, the old queen. It must be her. She couldn’t watch him and Adda—It wasn’t me. I only once, you know, tried to persuade them but Adda—Witcher! I was besotted, and said… Witcher? Was it me? Me?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Witcher? Is it nearly midnight?”

“It’s close.”

“Let me go. Give me more time.”

“No.”

Ostrit did not hear the scrape of the tomb lid being moved aside, but the witcher did. He leaned over and, with his dagger, cut the magnate’s bonds. Ostrit did not wait, for the word. He jumped up, numb, hobbled clumsily, and ran. His eyes had grown accustomed enough to the darkness for him to see his way from the main hall to the exit.

The slab blocking the entrance to the crypt opened and fell to the floor with a thud. Geralt, prudently behind the staircase balustrade, saw the misshapen figure of the striga speeding swiftly and unerringly in the direction of Ostrit’s receeding footsteps. Not the slightest sound issued from the striga.