‘Had she perished in the arena,’ Bonhart didn’t lower his eyes, ‘it would have meant she wasn’t worth anything.’

‘I see,’ Tawny Owl frowned slightly. ‘But rather than taking the wench to another arena you brought her to me. Why, if I might ask?’

‘I repeat,’ Rience grimaced. ‘He twigged who she is.’

‘You’re shrewd, Lord Rience.’ Bonhart stretched until his joints creaked. ‘You’ve guessed right. Yes, it’s true that there’s one more riddle linked to the witcher girl trained in Kaer Morhen. In Geso, when the noblewoman was robbed, the wench’s tongue wagged. That she was apparently so important and titled that the baron’s daughter was such small beer and so low-ranking she ought to bow down before her. In that case, this Falka, I think to myself, must be at least the daughter of a count. Curious. Firstly: a witcher girl. Are there so many of them? Secondly: in the Rats’ gang. Thirdly: the imperial coroner is chasing around after her, in person, from Korath to Ebbing and ordering her killed. And on top of all that… she’s a high-born noble woman. Ha, I think to myself, someone ought to ask that wench who she really is.’

He was silent for a time.

‘At first–’ he wiped his nose with his cuff ‘–she wouldn’t talk. Although I asked. I asked with hand, foot and whip. I didn’t want to cut her… But as luck would have it, a barber surgeon turned up. With instruments for extracting teeth. I bound her to a chair…’

Skellen swallowed audibly. Rience smiled. Bonhart studied a cuff.

‘She told me everything, before… As soon as she saw the instruments. Those toothed pliers and pincers. She became more forthcoming at once. It turns out she’s a—’

‘Cintran princess,’ said Rience, looking at Tawny Owl. ‘The heiress to the throne. A candidate for marriage to Emperor Emhyr.’

‘Which Lord Skellen didn’t deign to tell me,’ the bounty hunter sneered. ‘He ordered me simply to murder her, he stressed it several times. Kill her mercilessly, on the spot! Well, Lord Skellen? Kill a queen? Our emperor’s future spouse? With whom, if one is to believe the rumours, the emperor will tie the knot any moment, after which there is to be a general amnesty?’

Bonhart glared at Skellen as he delivered his oration. But the imperial coroner didn’t lower his eyes.

‘And so,’ the hunter continued, ‘out it comes: a delicate situation. Thus, though I regret it, I gave up my plans regarding the witcher girl-princess. I’ve brought the whole predicament here, to Lord Skellen. To talk, to sort things out… For I’d say that this predicament is a little too much for one Bonhart…’

‘A very reasonable conclusion,’ said a harsh voice from Rience’s bosom. ‘Very reasonable, Mr Bonhart. What you’ve caught, gentlemen, is a little too much for you both. Luckily, you still have me.’

‘What’s that?’ Skellen leaped up from his chair. ‘What the bloody hell is that?’