Sword of Destiny (The Witcher, #0.7)

by Andrzej Sapkowski

“You don’t believe or you don’t want to believe?” He did not reply. “And you want to appear the cold professional?” she asked with a strange smile. “Someone who thinks with his sword hilt? If you want, I’ll tell you what you really are.” “I know what I really am.” “You’re sensitive,” she said softly. “Deep in your angst-filled soul. Your stony face and cold voice don’t deceive me. You are sensitive, and your sensitivity makes you fear that whatever you are going to face with sword in hand may have its own arguments, may have the moral advantage over you…” “No, Essi,” he said slowly. “Don’t try to make me the subject of a moving ballad, a ballad about a witcher with inner conflicts. Perhaps I’d like it to be the case, but it isn’t. My moral dilemmas are resolved for me by my code and education. By my training.” “Don’t talk like that,” she said in annoyance. “I don’t understand why you try to—” “Essi,” he interrupted her again. “I don’t want you to pick up false notions about me. I’m not a knight errant.” “You aren’t a cold and unthinking killer either.” “No,” he agreed calmly. “I’m not, although there are some who think differently. For it isn’t my sensitivity and personal qualities that place me higher, but the vain and arrogant pride of a professional convinced of his value. A specialist, in whom it was instilled that the code of his profession and cold routine is more legitimate than emotion, that they protect him against making a mistake, which could be made should he b...