“I know.”

“But now I have to do you justice. I demanded a result and got one. Cintra is allied to Skellige. My daughter’s marrying the right man. For a moment I thought all this would have been fulfilled according to destiny anyway, even if I hadn’t had you brought in for the feast and sat you next to me. But I was wrong. Rainfarn’s dagger could have changed destiny. And Rainfarn was stopped by a sword held by a witcher. You’ve done an honest job, Geralt. Now it’s a question of price. Tell me what you want.”

“Hold on,” said Duny, fingering his bandaged side. “A question of price, you say. It is I who am in debt; it’s up to me—”

“Don’t interrupt.” Calanthe narrowed her eyes. “Your mother-in-law hates being interrupted. Remember that. And you should know that you’re not in any debt. It so happens that you were the subject of my agreement with Geralt. I said we’re quits and I don’t see the sense of my having to endlessly apologize to you for it. But the agreement still binds me. Well, Geralt. Your price.”

“Very well,” said the witcher. “I ask for your green sash, Calanthe. May it always remind me of the color of the eyes of the most beautiful queen I have ever known.”

Calanthe laughed, and unfastened her emerald necklace.

“This trinket,” she said, “has stones of the right hue. Keep it, and the memory.”

“May I speak?” asked Duny modestly.

“But of course, son-in-law, please do, please do.”

“I still say I am in your debt, witcher. It is my life that Rainfarn’s dagger endangered. I would have been beaten to death by the guards without you. If there’s talk of a price, then I should be the one to pay. I assure you I can afford it. What do you ask, Geralt?”

“Duny,” said Geralt slowly, “a witcher who is asked such a question has to ask to have it repeated.”

“I repeat, therefore. Because, you see, I am in your debt for still another reason. When I found out who you were, there in the hall, I hated you and thought very badly of you. I took you for a blind, bloodthirsty tool, for someone who kills coldly and without question, who wipes his blade clean of blood and counts the cash. But I’ve become convinced that the witcher’s profession is worthy of respect. You protect us not only from the evil lurking in the darkness, but also from that which lies within ourselves. It’s a shame there are so few of you.”

Calanthe smiled.

For the first time that night, Geralt was inclined to believe it was genuine.

“My son-in-law has spoken well. I have to add two words to what he said. Precisely two. Forgive, Geralt.”

“And I,” said Duny, “ask again. What do you ask for?”

“Duny,” said Geralt seriously, “Calanthe, Pavetta. And you, righteous knight Tuirseach, future king of Cintra. In order to become a witcher, you have to be born in the shadow of destiny, and very few are born like that. That’s why there are so few of us. We’re growing old, dying, without anyone to pass our knowledge, our gifts, on to. We lack successors. And this world is full of Evil which waits for the day none of us are left.”