Baptism of Fire (The Witcher #3)

by Andrzej Sapkowski

“Get lost. Make yourself scarce and do it fast.” “To which far-flung corner should I make myself scarce?” Regis asked slowly. “You’re a witcher, after all. You know about me. When you’ve dealt with your problem, when you’ve sorted out whatever you need to sort out, you’ll probably return to these parts. You know where I live, where I spend my time, how I earn my keep. Will you come after me?” “It’s possible. If there’s a bounty. I am a witcher.” “I wish you luck,” Regis said, fastening his bag and spreading his cape. “Farewell. Ah, one more thing. How high would the price on my head have to be in order for you to bother? How high do you value me?” “Bloody high.” “You tickle my vanity. To be precise?” “Fuck off, Regis.” “I’m going. But first put a value on me. If you please.” “I’ve usually taken the equivalent of a good saddle horse for an ordinary vampire. But you, after all, are not ordinary.” “How much?” “I doubt,” the Witcher said, his voice as cold as ice, “I doubt whether anyone could afford it.” “I understand and thank you,” the vampire said, smiling. This time he bared his teeth. At the sight, Milva and Cahir stepped back and Dandelion stifled a cry of horror. “Farewell. Good luck.” “Farewell, Regis. Same to you.”