‘Bonhart broke up Big Lothar’s gang,’ she said. ‘He carved up him and his brother, the one they called Muchomorek.’

‘Stabbed them in the back, they say,’ Kayleigh threw in.

‘He killed Valdez, too,’ Giselher added. ‘And when Valdez perished, his gang fell apart. One of the better ones. A solid, hard firm. Good scrappers. I thought about joining them at one time. Before we teamed up.’

‘It’s all true,’ Hotspurn said. ‘There’s never been a gang like Valdez’s and there never will be again. A merry air is sung about how they fought their way out of a trap at Sarda. Aye, bold they were, aye, daredevils they were! Few are their equal.’

The Rats suddenly fell silent and fixed their eyes on him, blazing and furious.

‘The six of us,’ Kayleigh drawled after a brief silence, ‘once broke through a troop of Nilfgaardian horse!’

‘We sprang Kayleigh from the Nissirs!’ Asse snapped.

‘Few are our equal!’ Reef hissed.

‘That is so, Hotspurn.’ Giselher threw out his chest. ‘The Rats are second to no other gang, not even Valdez’s mob. Daredevils, you say? Well I’ll tell you something about she-devils. Iskra, Mistle and Falka–the very three sitting here before you–rode in broad daylight down the high street in Druigh, and when they realised that the Varnhagens were in the tavern, they galloped right through it! Right through, I tell you! They rode in through the front and out into the courtyard. And the Varnhagens were left standing open-mouthed over broken beer mugs and spilled beer. Will you say that wasn’t dashing?’

‘He won’t,’ Mistle cut in before Hotspurn could reply, smiling nastily. ‘He won’t, because he knows who the Rats are. And his guild knows too.’

Master Almavera had finished the tattoo. Ciri thanked him with a haughty expression, dressed, and sat down with the company. She snorted, feeling the strange, appraising–and seemingly mocking–gaze of Hotspurn on her. She glowered at him, ostentatiously cuddling up to Mistle. She had already learned that such behaviour discomfited and cooled the zeal of gentlemen with flirtation in mind. In the case of Hotspurn she acted with a little more exaggeration, for the pretend merchant was not so intrusive in that way.

Hotspurn was an enigma to Ciri. She had only seen him once before and Mistle had told her the rest. Hotspurn and Giselher, she had explained, knew each other and had been comrades for ages, and had agreed signals, passwords and meeting places. During those rendezvous Hotspurn passed on information–and then they travelled to the road indicated and robbed the indicated merchant, convoy or caravan. Sometimes they killed a specific person. There was always also an agreed sign; they were not allowed to attack merchants with that sign on their wagons.