“Where?”

“Tridam. Didn’t you hear of it? Everyone was talking about it three…Yes, three years ago. The Baron of Tridam was holding some brigands in the dungeons. Their comrades—one of whom was that half-blood Civril—seized a river ferry full of pilgrims during the Feast of Nis. They demanded the baron set those others free. The baron refused, so they began murdering pilgrims, one after another. By the time the baron released his prisoners they’d thrown a dozen pilgrims overboard to drift with the current—and following the deaths the baron was in danger of exile, or even of execution. Some blamed him for waiting so long to give in, and others claimed he’d committed a great evil in releasing the men, in setting a pre—precedent or something. The gang should have been shot from the banks, together with the hostages, or attacked on the boats; he shouldn’t have given an inch. At the tribunal the baron argued he’d had no choice, he’d chosen the lesser evil to save more than twenty-five people—women and children—on the ferry.”

“The Tridam ultimatum,” whispered the witcher. “Renfri—”

“What?”

“Caldemeyn, the marketplace.”

“What?”

“She’s deceived us. They’re not leaving. They’ll force Stregobor out of his tower as they forced the Baron of Tridam’s hand. Or they’ll force me to…They’re going to start murdering people at the market; it’s a real trap!”

“By all the gods—Where are you going? Sit down!”

Marilka, terrified by the shouting, huddled, keening, in the corner of the kitchen.

“I told you!” Libushe shouted, pointing to the witcher. “I said he only brings trouble!”

“Silence, woman! Geralt? Sit down!”

“We have to stop them. Right now, before people go to the market. And call the guards. As the gang leaves the inn, seize them and hold them.”

“Be reasonable. We can’t. We can’t touch a hair of their heads if they’ve done nothing wrong. They’ll defend themselves and there’ll be bloodshed. They’re professionals; they’ll slaughter my people, and it’ll be my head for it if word gets to Audoen. I’ll gather the guards, go to the market and keep an eye on them there—”

“That won’t achieve anything, Caldemeyn. If the crowd’s already in the square, you can’t prevent panic and slaughter. Renfri has to be stopped right now, while the marketplace is empty.”

“It’s illegal. I can’t permit it. It’s only a rumor the half-elf was at Tridam. You could be wrong, and Audoen would flay me alive.”

“We have to take the lesser evil!”

“Geralt, I forbid it! As Alderman, I forbid it! Leave your sword! Stop!”

Marilka was screaming, her hands pressed over her mouth.

VI

Shading his eyes with his hand, Civril watched the sun emerge from behind the trees. The marketplace was coming to life. Wagons and carts rumbled past and the first vendors were already filling their stalls. A hammer was banging, a cock crowing and seagulls screeched loudly overhead.

“Looks like a lovely day,” Fifteen said pensively.

Civril looked at him askance but didn’t say anything.