know what I'd say? That monster's no fool. It knows you're lying in ambush. Hearken to this – at home in our village, there was a river and in that river lived an otter which would creep into the yard and strangle hens. It was so crafty that it never crept in when Father was home, or me and my brothers. It only showed up when Grandpa was left by himself. And our grandpa, hearken, was a bit feeble in the head and paralysis had taken his legs. It was as if the otter, that son-of-a-bitch, knew. Well then, one day our pa-'
'Ten per cent ad valorem}.' yelled the dwarven merchant from amidships, waving the fox skin about. 'That's how much I owe you and I'm not going to pay a copper more!'
'Then I'll confiscate the lot!' roared Olsen angrily. 'And I'll let the Novigrad guards know so you'll go to the clink together with your 'Valorem'! Boratek, charge him to the penny! Hey, have you left anything for me? Have you guzzled it down to the dregs?'
'Sit down, Olsen.' Geralt made room for him on the ropes. 'Stressful job you've got, I see.'
'Ah, I've had it up to my ears,' sighed the customs officer, then took a swig from the skin and wiped his moustache. 'I'm
throwing it in, I'm going back to Aedirn. I'm an honest Vengerberger who followed his sister and brother-in- law to Redania but now I'm going back. You know what, Geralt? I'm set on enlisting in the army. They say King Demawend is recruiting for special troops. Half a year's training in a camp and then it's a soldier's pay, three times what I get here, bribes included. This burbot's too salty.'
'I've heard about this special army,' confirmed Boatbug. 'It's getting ready for the Squirrels because the legurar army can't deal with the elven commandos. They particularly want half-elves to enlist, I hear. But that camp where they teach them to fight is real hell apparently. They leave fifty-fifty, some to get soldier's pay, some to the burial ground, feet first.'
'And so it should be,' said the customs officer. 'The special army, skipper, isn't just any old unit. It's not some shitty shield-bearers who just need to be shown which end of the javelin pricks. A special army has to know how to fight like nobody's business!'
'So you're such a fierce warrior, are you, Olsen? And the Squirrels, aren't you afraid of them? That they'll spike your arse with arrows?'
'Big deal! I know how to draw a bow too. I've already fought Nilfgaard, so elves are nothing to me.'
'They say,' Boatbug said with a shudder, 'if someone falls into their hands alive, the Scoia'taels'… It's better they hadn't been born. They'll be tortured horrifically.'
'Ah, do yourself a favour and shut your face, skipper. You're babbling like a woman. War is war. You whack the enemy in the backside, and they whack you back. Captured elves aren't pampered by our men either, don't you worry.'
'The tactic of terror.' Linus Pitt threw the burbot's head and backbone overboard. 'Violence breeds violence. Hatred has grown into hearts… and has poisoned kindred blood…'
'What?' Olsen grimaced. 'Use a human language!'
'Hard times are upon us.'
'So they are, true,' agreed Boatbug. 'There's sure to be a great war. Every day the sky is thick with ravens, they smell the carrion
already. And the seeress Ithlin foretold the end of the world. White Light will come to be, the White Chill will then follow. Or the other way round, I've forgotten how it goes. And people are saying signs were also visible in the sky-'
'You keep an eye on the fairway, skipper, 'stead of the sky, or this skiff of yours is going to end up in the shallows. Ah, we're already level with Oxenfurt. Just look, you can see the Cask!'
The mist was clearly less dense now so that they could see the hillocks and marshy meadows of the right bank and, rising above them, a part of the aqueduct.
'That, gentlemen, is the experimental sewage purification plant,' boasted the Master Tutor, refusing his turn to drink. 'A great success for science, a great achievement for the Academy. We repaired the old elven aqueduct, canals and sediment trap and we're already neutralising the sewers of the university, town and surrounding villages and farms. What you call the Cask is a sediment trap. A great success for science-'
'Heads down, heads down!' warned Olsen, ducking behind the rail. 'Last year, when that thing exploded, the shit flew as far as Crane Islet.'
The barge sailed in between islands and the squat tower of the sediment trap and the aqueduct disappeared in the mist. Everyone sighed with relief.
'Aren't you sailing straight by way of the Oxenfurt arm, Boatbug?' asked Olsen.
'I'm putting in at Acorn Bay first. To collect fish traders and merchants from the Temerian side.'
'Hmm…' The customs officer scratched his neck. 'At the Bay… Listen, Geralt, you aren't in any conflict with the Temerians by any chance, are you?'
'Why? Was someone asking about me?'
'You've guessed it. As you see, I remember you asked me to keep an eye out for anyone interested in you. Well, just imagine, the Temerian Guards have been enquiring about you. The customs officers there, with whom I have a good understanding, told me. Something smells funny here, Geralt.'
'The water?' Linus Pitt was afraid, glancing nervously at the aqueduct and the great scientific success.
'That little snotrag?' Boatbug pointed to Everett who was still milling around nearby.
'I'm not talking about that.' The customs officer winced. 'Listen, Geralt, the Temerian customs men said these Guards were asking strange questions. They know you sail with the Malatius and Grock barges. They asked… if you sail alone. If you have- Bloody hell, just don't laugh! They were going on about some underage girl who has been seen in your company, apparently.'
Boatbug chuckled. Linus Pitt looked at the witcher with eyes filled with the distaste which befitted someone looking at a white-haired man who has drawn the attention of the law on account of his preference for underage girls.
'That's why,' Olsen hawked, 'the Temerian customs officers thought it might be some private matters being settled, into which the Guards had been drawn. Like… Well, the girl's family or her betrothed. So the officers cautiously asked who was behind all this. And they found out. Well, apparently it's a nobleman with a tongue ready as a chancellor's, neither poor nor miserly, who calls himself… Rience, or something like that. He's got a red mark on his left cheek as if from a burn. Do you know anyone like that?'
Geralt got up.
'Boatbug,' he said. 'I'm disembarking in Acorn Bay.'
'How's that? And what about the monster?'
'That's your problem.'
'Speaking of problems,' interrupted Olsen, 'just look starboard, Geralt. Speak of the devil.'
From behind an island, from the swiftly lifting mist, loomed a lighter. A black burgee dotted with silver lilies fluttered lazily from its mast. The crew consisted of several men wearing the pointed hats of Temerian Guards.
Geralt quickly reached into his bag and pulled out both letters -the one from Ciri and the one from Yennefer. He swiftly tore them into tiny shreds and threw them into the river. The customs officer watched him in silence.
'Whatever are you doing, may I ask?'
'No. Boatbug, take care of my horse.'
'You want to…' Olsen frowned. 'You intend to-'
'What I intend is my business. Don't get mixed up in this or there'll be an incident. They're sailing under the Temerian flag.'
'Bugger their flag.' The customs officer moved his cutlass to a more accessible place on his belt and wiped his enamelled gorget, an eagle on a red background, with his sleeve. 'If I'm on board carrying out an inspection, then this is Redania. I will not allow-'
'Olsen,' the witcher interrupted, grabbing him by the sleeve, 'don't interfere, please. The man with a burned face isn't on the lighter. And I have to know who he is and what he wants. I've got to see him face to face.'
'You're going to let them put you in the stocks? Don't be a fool! If this is a private settling of scores, privately commissioned revenge, then as soon as you get past the islet, on the Whirl, you'll fly overboard with an anchor round your neck. You'll be face to face all right, but it'll be with crabs at the bottom of the river!'
