“And nobody else?”

“And nobody else.”

They both remained silent, gazing at the nervous flicker of the candle flames.

“Nivellen,” said the witcher suddenly, “are you alone now?”

“Witcher,” answered the monster after a moment’s hesitation, “I think that, in principle, I ought to insult you, take you by the neck and throw you down the stairs. Do you know why? Because you treat me like a dimwit. I noticed how you’ve been cocking your ears and glancing at the door. You know perfectly well that I don’t live alone. Am I right?”

“You are. I’m sorry.”

“Pox on your apologies. Have you seen her?”

“Yes. In the forest, by the gate. Is she why merchants and daughters have been leaving here empty-handed for some time?”

“So you know about that too? Yes, she’s the reason.”

“Do you mind if I ask whether—”

“Yes, I do mind.”

Silence again.

“Oh well, it’s up to you,” the witcher finally said, getting up. “Thanks for your hospitality, dear host. Time I was on my way.”

“Quite right.” Nivellen also got up. “For certain reasons, I can’t offer you a room in the manor for the night, and I don’t encourage you to spend the night in these woods. Ever since the area’s been deserted, it’s been bad at night here. You ought to get back to the highway before dusk.”

“I’ll bear that in mind, Nivellen. Are you sure you don’t need my help?”

The monster looked at him askance. “You think you could help me? You’d be able to lift this from me?”

“I wasn’t only thinking about that sort of help.”

“You didn’t answer my question. Although… you probably did. You wouldn’t be able to.”

Geralt looked him straight in the eyes. “You had some bad luck,” he said. “Of all the temples in Gelibol and the Nimnar Valley, you picked the Church of Coram Agh Tera, the Lionheaded Spider. In order to lift the curse thrown by the priestess of Coram Agh Tera, you need knowledge and powers which I don’t possess.”

“And who does?”

“So you are interested after all? You said things were fine as they are.”

“As they are, yes. But not as they might be. I’m afraid that—”

“What are you afraid of?”

The monster stopped at the door to the room and turned. “I’ve had enough of your questions, witcher, which you keep asking instead of answering mine. Obviously, you’ve got to be asked in the right way. Listen. For some time now I’ve had hideous dreams. Maybe the word ‘monstrous’ would be more accurate. Am I right to be afraid? Briefly, please.”

“Have you ever had muddy feet after waking from such a dream? Conifer needles in your sheets?”

“No.”

“And have—”

“No. Briefly, please.”

“You’re rightly afraid.”

“Can anything be done about it? Briefly, please.”

“No.”

“Finally. Let’s go. I’ll see you out.”

In the courtyard, as Geralt was adjusting the saddlebags, Nivellen stroked the mare’s nostrils and patted her neck. Roach, pleased with the caress, lowered her head.