Time of Contempt (The Witcher, #4)

by Andrzej Sapkowski

‘They are all mentioned here. Legitimate sons: Orm, Gorm, Torm, Horm and Gonzalez.

Geralt, my respects come from the bottom of my heart . . .’ Geralt, refraining from telling Dijkstra his respect came from the heart of his bottom,

‘Be careful. It’s an illusion.’ ‘Bloody hell, you’re right!’ said the sorceress, dropping the spoon as though it was the tail of a black scorpion. ‘Who was so barefaced . . . You? Can you create fourth-level illusions?’ ‘I,’ he lied, continuing to smile, ‘am a master of magic. I’m pretending to be a witcher to remain incognito. Do you think Yennefer would bother with an ordinary witcher?’