“You don’t believe in it, you say. Well you’re right, in a way. Only Evil and Greater Evil exist and beyond them, in the shadows, lurks True Evil. True Evil, Geralt, is something you can barely imagine, even if you believe nothing can still surprise you. And sometimes True Evil seizes you by the throat and demands that you choose between it and another, slightly lesser, Evil.”

“What’s your goal here, Renfri?”

“Nothing. I’ve had a bit to drink and I’m philosophising. I’m looking for general truths. And I’ve found one: lesser evils exist, but we can’t choose them. Only True Evil can force us to such a choice. Whether we like it or not.”

“Maybe I’ve not had enough to drink.” The witcher smiled sourly. “And in the meantime midnight’s passed, the way it does. Let’s speak plainly. You’re not going to kill Stregobor in Blaviken because I’m not going to let you. I’m not going to let it come to a slaughter here. So, for the second time, renounce your revenge. Prove to him, to everyone, that you’re not an inhuman and bloodthirsty monster. Prove he has done you great harm through his mistake.”

For a moment Renfri watched the witcher’s medallion spinning as he twisted the chain.

“And if I tell you, witcher, that I can neither forgive Stregobor nor renounce my revenge then I admit that he is right, is that it? I’d be proving that I am a monster cursed by the gods? You know, when I was still new to this life, a freeman took me in. He took a fancy to me, even though I found him repellent. So every time he wanted to fuck me, he had to beat me so hard I could barely move, even the following day. One morning I rose while it was still dark and slashed his throat with a scythe. I wasn’t yet as skilled as I am now, and a knife seemed too small. And as I listened to him gurgle and choke, watched him kicking and flailing, I felt the marks left by his feet and fists fade, and I felt, oh, so great, so great that…I left him, whistling, sprightly, feeling so joyful, so happy. And it’s the same each time. If it wasn’t, who’d waste time on revenge?”

“Renfri,” said Geralt. “Whatever your motives, you’re not going to leave here joyful and happy. But you’ll leave here alive, early tomorrow morning, as the alderman ordered. You’re not going to kill Stregobor in Blaviken.”

Renfri’s eyes glistened in the candlelight, reflecting the flame; the pearls glowed in the slit of her jacket; the wolf medallion spinning round on its chain sparkled.

“I pity you,” she said slowly, gazing at the medallion. “You claim a lesser evil doesn’t exist. You’re standing on a flagstone running with blood, alone and so very lonely because you can’t choose, but you had to. And you’ll never know, you’ll never be sure, if you were right…And your reward will be a stoning, and a bad word. I pity you…”