‘Geralt may be right,’ Regis said slowly. ‘Like every vampire, I’m invisible to magical visual probing and scanning; that is, to a detecting spell. A vampire may be tracked using an analytical spell, from close up, but it is not possible to detect a vampire with a remote, scanning spell. The detection will report that there’s no one there. Thus only a sorcerer could be mistaken regarding us: to register four people, where there were actually five; that is, four people and one vampire.’

‘We shall exploit the sorcerers’ error,’ the Witcher continued. ‘Cahir, Angoulême and I shall ride to Belhaven to talk to the half-elf who hired assassins to kill us. We won’t ask the half-elf on whose orders he’s acting, for we know that already. We’ll ask him where the sorcerers on whose orders he is acting are. When we learn their location we’ll go there. And exact our revenge.’

Everybody was silent.

‘We stopped counting the date, so we haven’t even noticed it’s the twenty-fifth of September. Two days ago it was the night of the Equinox. The Equinox. Yes, that’s exactly the night you’re thinking about. I see your dejection, I see what your eyes are saying. We received a signal, that dreadful night, when the merchants camping beside us were keeping their courage up with aqua vitae, singing and fireworks. You probably had a less distinct sense of foreboding than Cahir and I, but you’re speculating too. You suspect. And I’m afraid your suspicions are well founded.’

The crows flying over the moorland cawed.

‘Everything indicates that Ciri is dead. She perished, two nights ago, at the Equinox. Somewhere far from here, alone amongst hostile people; strangers.

‘And all that’s left to us is vengeance. A cruel and bloody revenge, about which stories will still be told a hundred years hence. Stories which folk will be afraid to listen to after nightfall. And the hand of any who would repeat such a crime will tremble at the thought of our vengeance. We shall give a horrible example of terror! Using the ways of Mr Fulko Artevelde, wise Mr Fulko, who knows how blackguards and scoundrels should be treated. The illustration of terror we shall give will astonish even him!

‘So let us begin and may Hell assist us! Cahir, Angoulême, to horse. We ride up the Nevi, towards Belhaven. Dandelion, Milva, Regis, make for Sansretour, towards Toussaint’s borders. You won’t get lost, Gorgon will point the way. Goodbye.’