The Last Wish (The Witcher, #0.5)

by Andrzej Sapkowski

You’ve a right to believe that we’re governed by Nature and the Force hidden within her. You can think that the gods, including my Melitele, are merely a personification of this power invented for simpletons so they can understand it better, accept its existence. According to you, that power is blind. But for me, Geralt, faith allows you to expect what my goddess personifies from nature: order, law, goodness. And hope.’

‘Because it would be the first proof I’ve ever heard of that a lack of faith has any kind of power at all.’

‘You’re not a monster. Otherwise you wouldn’t be able to touch this silver tray. And in no way could you hold my medallion.’

It’s my problem, Geralt, my life and my punishment. I’ve learnt to put up with it. I’ve got used to it. If it gets worse, I’ll get used to that too. And if it gets far worse don’t look for anybody. Come here yourself and put an end to it. As a witcher. Take care, Geralt.’

During his life, the witcher had met thieves who looked like town councillors, councillors who looked like beggars, harlots who looked like princesses, princesses who looked like calving cows and kings who looked like thieves. But Stregobor always looked as, according to every rule and notion, a wizard should look.

‘Evil is evil, Stregobor,’ said the witcher seriously as he got up. ‘Lesser, greater, middling, it’s all the same. Proportions are negotiated, boundaries blurred. I’m not a pious hermit, I haven’t done only good in my life. But if I’m to choose between one evil and another, then I prefer not to choose at all.

A manticore, wyvern, fogler, aeschna, ilyocoris, chimera, leshy, vampire, ghoul, graveir, were-wolf, giant scorpion, striga, black annis, kikimora, vypper

‘Unclear tasks,’ said the witcher dryly, ‘can’t be clearly executed.’

When I found out who you were, there in the hall, I hated you and thought very badly of you. I took you for a blind, bloodthirsty tool, for someone who kills coldly and without question, who wipes his blade clean of blood and counts the cash. But I’ve become convinced that the witcher’s profession is worthy of respect. You protect us not only from the evil lurking in the darkness, but also from that which lies within ourselves.

‘People,’ Geralt turned his head, ‘like to invent monsters and monstrosities. Then they seem less monstrous themselves. When they get blind-drunk, cheat, steal, beat their wives, starve an old woman, when they kill a trapped fox with an axe or riddle the last existing unicorn with arrows, they like to think that the Bane entering cottages at daybreak is more monstrous than they are. They feel better then. They find it easier to live.’

‘I manage.’ The witcher looked him straight in the eyes. ‘I manage because I have to. Because I’ve no other way out. Because I’ve overcome the vanity and pride of being different. I’ve understood that they are a pitiful defence against being different. Because I’ve understood that the sun shines differently when something changes, but I’m not the axis of those changes. The sun shines differently, but it will continue to shine, and jumping at it with a hoe isn’t going to do anything. We’ve got to accept facts, elf. That’s what we’ve got to learn.’

‘Spare him, at least,’ Geralt indicated Dandilion with his head. ‘No, not out of lofty mercy. Out of common sense. Nobody’s going to ask after me, but they are going to take revenge for him.’ ‘You judge my common sense poorly,’ the elf said after some hesitation. ‘If he survives thanks to you he’ll undoubtedly feel obliged to avenge you.’ ‘You can be sure of that!’ Dandilion burst out, pale as death. ‘You can be sure, you son-of-a-bitch. Kill me too, because I promise otherwise I’ll set the world against you. You’ll see what lice from a fur coat can do! We’ll finish you off even if we have to level those mountains of yours to the ground! You can be sure of that!’ ‘How stupid you are, Dandilion,’ sighed the witcher. ‘Your mother gives birth to you only once and only once do you die,’ said the poet haughtily, the effect somewhat spoilt by his teeth rattling like castanets.

And something else, that brought to mind a mixture of the scents of lilac and gooseberries.

The sorceress turned round with a strange glimmer in her eyes. ‘Could it be that your friend managed to express a wish?’ ‘Two. Both stupid. Why do you ask? This fulfilling of wishes by genies is nonsense, after all, djinns, spirits of the lamp—’ ‘Clearly nonsense,’ repeated Yennefer with a smile. ‘Of course. It’s an invention, a fairy tale devoid of any sense, like all the legends in which good spirits and fortune tellers fulfil wishes. Stories like that are made up by poor simpletons, who can’t even dream of fulfilling their wishes and desires themselves. I’m pleased you’re not one of them, Geralt of Rivia. It makes you closer in spirit to me. If I want something, I don’t dream of it – I act. And I always get what I want.’

He didn’t like magical portals, or travelling by them. ‘Do we have to . . .’ He cleared his throat. ‘It’s not far—’

I’ll return to repay you. I didn’t see the scorpion amidst the flowers, Yennefer. I’m prepared to pay for my inattention.’

I loved this, it really shows while the Witcher has tangled with all sorts of different characters, creatures and otherwise. He has realised that he has met his match in Yennefer and has broken down in a realisation he met his match and is now in her debt/control.

‘Your wish,’ she whispered, her lips very near his ear. ‘I don’t know whether such a wish can ever be fulfilled. I don’t know whether there’s such a Force in Nature that could fulfil such a wish. But if there is, then you’ve condemned yourself. Condemned yourself to me.’