Geralt didn’t smile disrespectfully or nastily, although he very much wanted to. He held his silence.

“I thought,” murmured the queen, appearing to give her full attention to the pheasant’s thigh, “that you’d say something. Or smile. No? All the better. Can I consider our negotiations concluded?”

“Unclear tasks,” said the witcher dryly, “can’t be clearly executed.”

“What’s unclear? You did, after all, guess correctly. I have plans regarding a marriage alliance with Skellige. These plans are threatened, and I need you to eliminate the threat. But here your shrewdness ends. The supposition that I mistake your trade for that of a hired thug has piqued me greatly. Accept, Geralt, that I belong to that select group of rulers who know exactly what witchers do, and how they ought to be employed. On the other hand, if someone kills as efficiently as you do, even though not for money, he shouldn’t be surprised if people credit him with being a professional in that field. Your fame runs ahead of you, Geralt; it’s louder than Draig Bon-Dhu’s accursed bagpipes, and there are equally few pleasant notes in it.”

The bagpipe player, although he couldn’t hear the queen’s words, finished his concert. The guests rewarded him with an uproarious ovation and dedicated themselves with renewed zeal to the remains of the banquet, recalling battles and making rude jokes about womenfolk. Coodcoodak was making a series of loud noises, but there was no way to tell if these were yet another animal imitation, or an attempt to relieve his overloaded stomach.

Eist Tuirseach leaned far across the table. “Your Majesty,” he said, “there are good reasons, I am sure, for your dedication to the lord from Fourhorn, but it’s high time we saw Princess Pavetta. What are we waiting for? Surely not for Crach an Craite to get drunk? And even that moment is almost here.”

“You’re right as usual, Eist.” Calanthe smiled warmly. Geralt was amazed by her arsenal of smiles. “Indeed, I do have important matters to discuss with the Honorable Ravix. I’ll dedicate some time to you too, but you know my principle: duty then pleasure. Haxo!”

She raised her hand and beckoned the castellan. Haxo rose without a word, bowed, and quickly ran upstairs, disappearing into the dark gallery. The queen turned to the witcher.

“You heard? We’ve been debating for too long. If Pavetta has stopped preening in front of the looking glass, she’ll be here presently. So prick up your ears because I won’t repeat this. I want to achieve the ends which, to a certain degree, you have guessed. There can be no other solution. As for you, you have a choice. You can be forced to act by my command—I don’t wish to dwell on the consequences of disobedience, although obedience will be generously rewarded—or you can render me a paid service. Note that I didn’t say “I can buy you,’ because I’ve decided not to offend your witcher’s pride. There’s a huge difference, isn’t there?”