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December 17, 2019 - March 1, 2020
‘But we struck a deal,’ the fat man muttered hesitantly. ‘This just isn’t right.’ ‘We made a deal with a living man, Alderman,’ said the spotty-faced man’s companion, a giant in a leather butcher’s apron. ‘And now he’s dead, sure as eggs is eggs.
The conflict between the forces of Order and the forces of Chaos, as a sorcerer acquaintance of mine used to say. I imagine that you carry out your mission, defending people from Evil, always and everywhere. Without distinction. You stand on a clearly defined side of the palisade.’ ‘The forces of Order, the forces of Chaos. Awfully high-flown words, Borch. You desperately want to position me on one side of the palisade in a conflict, which is generally thought to be perennial, began long before us and will endure long after we’ve gone. On which side does the farrier, shoeing horses, stand? Or
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Only in fables survives what cannot survive in nature. Only myths and fables do not know the limits of possibility.’
‘He is . . . the most . . . beautiful.’ The Witcher nodded. Not for the first time, the criteria by which women judged the attractiveness of men remained a mystery to him.
‘Now you’re lying, Dandelion.’ ‘Not lying, just embellishing, and there’s a difference.’
I stood and listened and I thought to myself, I’ll have my lads knock him to the ground and I’ll piss all over his cape. But I dropped the idea, you know, because word would get around again that dwarves are nasty, that they’re aggressive, that they’re whoresons and it’s impossible to live with them in . . . what the hell was it? . . . harmonium, or whatever it is. And right away there’d be another pogrom somewhere, in some little town or other. So I just listened politely and nodded.’
