“The fat trespasser, when he got his voice back—he’d lost it when he saw me—squealed that he only wanted a few flowers for his daughter, that I should spare him, spare his life and his health. I was just ready to kick him out of the main gate when I remembered something. Stories Lenka, my nanny—the old bag—used to tell me. Pox on it, I thought, if pretty girls turn frogs into princes, or the other way round, then maybe… Maybe there’s a grain of truth in these stories, a chance… I leapt four yards, roared so loud wild vine tumbled from the wall, and I yelled, ‘Your daughter or your life!’ Nothing better came to mind. The merchant, for he was a merchant, began to weep, then confessed that his daughter was only eight. Are you laughing?”

“No.”

“I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry over my shitty fate. I felt sorry for the old trader. I couldn’t watch him shake like that. I invited him inside, made him welcome and, when he was leaving, I poured gold and precious stones into his bag. There was still a fair fortune in the cellar from Father’s day. I hadn’t quite known what to do with it, so I could allow myself this gesture. The merchant beamed and thanked me so profusely that he slobbered all over himself. He must have boasted about his adventure somewhere because not two weeks had gone by when another merchant appeared. He had a pretty large bag ready with him. And a daughter. Also pretty large.”

Nivellen extended his legs under the table and stretched until the armchair creaked.

“I came to an understanding with the merchant in no time,” he continued. “He’d leave her with me for a year. I had to help him load the sack onto his mule; he wouldn’t have managed by himself.”

“And the girl?”

“She had fits at the sight of me for a while. She really thought I’d eat her. But after a month we were eating at the same table, chatting and going for long walks. She was kind, and remarkably smart, and I’d get tongue-tied when I talked to her. You see, Geralt, I was always shy with girls, always made a laughing stock of myself, even with wenches from the cowshed with dung up to their knees, girls the lads from the crew turned over this way and that at will. Even they made fun of me. To say nothing of having a maw like this. I couldn’t even make myself say anything about why I had paid so dearly for a year of her life. The year dragged like the stench following marauding troops until, at last, the merchant arrived and took her away.

“I locked myself in the house, resigned, and didn’t react for several months to any of the guests who turned up with daughters. But after a year spent with company, I realized how hard it was to live without anyone to talk to.” The monster made a noise which was supposed to be a sigh but came out more like a hiccup.