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'In the past, when unicorns still existed, there was quite a large group of girls who took care of
their virtue in order to be able to hunt them. Do you remember? And the ratcatchers with
pipes? Everybody was fighting over their services. But they were finished off by alchemists
and their effective poisons and then domesticated ferrets and weasels. The little animals were
cheaper, nicer and didn't guzzle so much beer. Notice the analogy?'
'I do.'
'So use other people's experiences. The unicorn virgins, when they lost their jobs, immediately
popped their cherry. Some, eager to make up for the years of sacrifice, became famous far and
wide for their technique and zeal. The ratcatchers . . . Well, you'd better not copy them,
because they, to a man, took to drink and went to the dogs. Well, now it looks as if the time's
come for witchers. You're reading Roderick de Novembre? As far as I remember, there are
mentions of witchers there, of the first ones
who started work some three hundred years ago. In the days when the peasants used to go to
reap the harvest in armed bands, when villages were surrounded by a triple stockade, when
merchant caravans looked like the march of regular troops, and loaded catapults stood on the
ramparts of the few towns night and day. Because it was us, human beings, who were the
intruders here. This land was ruled by dragons, manticores, griffins and amphisboenas,
vampires and werewolves, striga, kikimoras, chimerae and flying drakes. And this land had to
be taken from them bit by bit, every valley, every mountain pass, every forest and every
meadow. And we didn't manage that without the invaluable help of witchers. But those times
have gone, Geralt, irrevocably gone. The baron won't allow a forktail to be killed because it's
the last draconid for a thousand miles and no longer gives rise to fear but rather to compassion
and nostalgia for times passed. The troll under the bridge gets on with people. He's not a
monster used to frighten children. He's a relic and a local attraction - and a useful one at that.
And chimerae, manticores and amphisboenas? They dwell in virgin forests and inaccessible
mountains '
'So I was right. Something is coming to an end. Whether you like it or not, something's
coming to an end.'
'I don't like you mouthing banal platitudes. I don't like your expression when you do it. What's
happening to you? I don't recognise you, Geralt. Ah, plague on it, let's go south as soon as
possible, to those wild countries. As soon as you've cut down a couple of monsters, your blues
will disappear. And there's supposed to be a fair number of monsters down there. They say
that when an old woman's tired of life, she goes alone and weaponless into the woods to
collect brushwood. The consequences are guaranteed. You should go and settle there for
good.'
'Maybe I should. But I won't.'
'Why? It's easier for a witcher to make money there.'
'Easier to make money,' Geralt took a sip from the demijohn. 'But harder to spend it. And on
top of that, they eat pearl barley and millet, the beer tastes like piss, the girls don't wash and
the mosquitoes bite.'
Dandilion chuckled loudly and rested his head against the bookshelf, on the leather-bound
volumes.
'Millet and mosquitoes! That reminds me of our first expedition together to the edge of the
world,' he said. 'Do you remember? We met at the fete in Gulet and you persuaded me '
'You persuaded me! You had to flee from Gulet as fast as your horse could carry you because
the girl you'd knocked up under the musicians' podium had four sturdy brothers. They were
looking for you all over town, threatening to geld you and cover you in pitch and sawdust.
That's why you hung on to me then.'
'And you almost jumped out of your pants with joy to have a companion. Until then you only
had your horse for company. But you're right, it was as you say. I did have to disappear for a
while, and the Valley of Flowers seemed just right for my purpose. It was, after all, supposed
to be the edge of the inhabited world, the last outpost of civilisation, the furthest point on the
border of two worlds . . . Remember?'
'I remember.'
THE EDGE OF THE WORLD
I
Dandilion came down the steps of the inn carefully, carrying two tankards dripping with froth.
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