Ji Yun, scholar from times of Qing dynasty
Chapter Fourteen
Night brought a storm.
Having rested well in the attic of a barn, they started their journey at the crack of dawn, during a cold but sunny morning. Keeping to the chosen path, they crossed the oak and hornbeam forests, marches and wet meadows. After hours of forced march, they came upon buildings.
‘Windley.’ Indicated Addario Bach. ‘This is the wharf I was talking about.’
They got to the river; an invigorating wind swept around them. They entered a wooden jetty. The river formed here a broad backwater, huge as a lake; it was hard to discern the current that was a bit further out. From the banks to the very water hung the branches of willows, osiers and alders. Everywhere swam, emitting various sounds, a horde of water birds: ducks, teals, pintails, loons and grebes. Fitting into the scenery and not scaring all of this feathery crowd, was a small vessel floating gracefully through the waters. With a single mast, and a single large sail in back and few small triangular ones in front.
‘It's rightly said,’ said Addario looking out over the show. ‘That these are the three most beautiful sights in the world; a ship under full sails, a horse in gallop and, you know, a naked woman in bed.’
‘A naked woman in dance.’ The witcher smiled slightly. ‘In dance. Addario.’
‘Alright, so be it.’ Agreed the dwarf. ‘Naked in dance. And this craft, you must admit, is far from ugly on the water.’
‘It's not a craft, it's a vessel.’
‘It's a sloop,’ corrected a large man in orange jacket, approaching. ‘A sloop my dear sirs. It's easy to infer from the sails. A large mainsail, a staysail and two jibs. Classic.’
The craft – or sloop - came to the jetty near enough so they could admire the figurehead on its fore. The sculpture instead of presenting a busty woman, siren, dragon or sea serpent showed a bald old man with a crooked nose.
‘Damn,’ muttered Addario under his breath. ‘The Prophet is following us or what?’
‘Sixty-four feet long,’ a short man with voice full of pride described further. ‘Total surface area of the sails three thousand three hundred feet. This is my dear sirs is “Prophet Lebioda”, a modern Kovir-type sloop, built in the Novigrad shipyard, commissioned not a year ago.’
‘You know as we can see’ Addario Bach snorted ‘this sloop. You know a lot about it.’
‘I know everything, for I'm the owner. You see the banner its flying? There is a glove on it. That is the coat of my enterprise. Sirs will excuse me: I'm Kevenard van Vliet, businessman working in the white-leather branch.’
‘We're happy to make your acquaintance’, the dwarf shook the artisan's right hand while giving him a watchful stare. ‘And we congratulate the craft, because it's beautiful and fast. It's even a bit weird that it’s here in Windley, in a backwater, far from the main course of the Pontar. It’s also strange that the craft is on the water, and you, the owner on land. Does it mean trouble?’
‘Why, no. No trouble at all,’ disclaimed the owner, Geralt judged too fast and too eagerly. ‘We just get supplies here, that's all. And to this wasteland, well not will but dire need brought us. Because if you come to the rescue you don't watch the road. And this is a rescue expedition.’
‘Master van Vliet,’ one of the approaching thugs interrupted, under whose boots jetty trembled. ‘Don't go into detail, I'm sure they are not interested in matters here. And they should not be.’
There were five thugs that approached from the village. The one that talked, wearing a straw hat, was distinguished because of his strongly sketched out jaw, dark with a few days old stubble, and propounded chin. a chin that had a crack that made it look like a miniature ass. He was accompanied by a big ruffian, a true giant, however not in the least bit dumb judging by his face or his stare. The third who was short and tanned was a true sailor in every inch and detail down to his wool cap and earring. Two other evidently mates were carrying boxes with supplies.
‘I don't think that these gentlemen,’ continued one with the chin, ‘whomever they are, must know anything about us, what we are doing here, and other private things of ours. These gentlemen surely understand that our private matters are none of anyone's business, and particularly not ones met randomly and quite unknown.’
‘Well, maybe not completely unknown,’ interjected the giant. ‘It's true that I don't know Master dwarf, but your white hair gives you away sir. Geralt of Rivia, I think? A Witcher? Or am I mistaken?’
I'm becoming famous, thought Geralt putting his hands over his chest. Too famous. Maybe I should dye my hair? Or shave myself bald, like Harlan Tzara?
‘A witcher!’ Kevenard van Vliet pronounced with visible shock. ‘A real witcher! What a luck! Dear gentlemen! He's a gift from heaven.’
‘The famous Geralt of Rivia!’ repeated the giant. ‘We are lucky to have had met him, now in our situation. He will help us get out...’
‘You talk too much, Cobbin,’ the man with the chin stopped him. ‘Too much and too fast.’
‘What are you saying, Master Fysh?’ the businessman snorted. ‘Can't you see what occasion has shown up? Help from someone like the witcher...’
‘Master van Vliet! Leave it to me. I have more experience with guys like this one here.’
Silence fell in which the man with the chin gave an inspecting look to the witcher.
‘Geralt of Rivia,’ he said at last. ‘Slayer of monsters and supernatural creatures. A slayer, I would say, that is legendary. I would if I believed in all these legends. And where are your famous witcher swords? I somehow can't see them.’
‘Not surprising,’ riposted Geralt, ‘that you can't see them. Because they are invisible. Why, you haven't heard the legends about witchers swords? Passersby can't see them. They show up when I say a spell. When there is need. If there is need. Because I can give a beating even without swords.’
‘I’ll take your word for it. I'm Javil Fysh. I chair an enterprise in Novigrad, providing various services. This is my partner, Peter Cobbin. This is Boxcray, the captain of "Prophet Lebioda". And already known to you is Kevenard van Vliet, owner of this ship.’
‘I see, witcher,’ continued Javil Fysh, ‘that you are standing on a jetty in the only village in radius of about twenty miles. To get to civilized roads you would need to march long through forests. I think that you would rather get away on something that floats. And "Prophet" happens to be sailing to Novigrad. And can take up passengers. You and your dwarf. Agreed?’
‘Continue, Master Fysh. I'm listening carefully.’
‘Our little ship is as you can see no river tub, you have to pay for a ride, and it's not cheap. Don't interrupt. Would you be willing to take us under care of your invisible swords? We can estimate the price of your witcher services that is escorting and guarding during the ride, from here to Novigrad by road and compare it to the price of the ride. How much are your witcher services then?’
‘With searching or without?’
‘What?’
‘In your proposition,’ said Geralt calmly, ‘there are hidden loopholes and catches. If I have to look for them myself, it will cost more. It will be cheaper if you would decide on truthfulness.’
‘Your lack of trust,’ responded Fysh coldly, ‘raises some suspicions. Because only cheaters see quibbling everywhere. As they say: a guilty person never behaves naturally. We want to hire you as a guard. It's a rather simple task, and devoid of all subtleties. What loopholes can there be?’
‘Guarding is a lie,’ Geralt did not lower his eyes. ‘Made up on the spot and as plain as a pikestaff.’
‘You think so?’
‘I think so. Because Master van Vliet let loose a word about rescue mission, and you, Master Fysh cut him off abruptly. Then your coworker tells about situation in need of getting out of. If we are to collaborate then please tell me without subterfuge - what is this expedition, and who is to be rescued. Why it's so
secret. What you need to get out of?’
‘We will explain this.’ van Vliet said before Fysh. ‘We will explain it all, Master Witcher.’
‘But on board,’ Captain Boxcray interrupted hoarsely up until this moment silent. ‘There is no point in further dallying at this quay. The wind is good. Let us sail away, dear sirs.’
*
Having caught wind in its sails the "Prophet Lebioda" sailed fast through the broadly stretched waters of the bay, keeping course on the main water trail, maneuvering among small islands. Ropes cracked, the boom creaked, and the flag-staff merrily fluttered it’s banner with the glove.
Kevenard van Vliet kept his promise. As soon as the sloop departed from the quay at Windley, he gathered all interested parties at the bow and began explanations.
‘The expedition taken up by us,’ he began, staring time after time at sullen Fysh, ‘has a goal of rescuing a child. Xymena de Sepulveda, only daughter of Briana de Sepulveda. You must have heard this name before. Tanneries of furs, workshops both wet and tanning ones, also furrier workshops. A huge yearly production, great money. If you see any lady in beautiful and expensive fur this surely will be a product of these workshops.’
‘So it was her daughter that was kidnapped. For ransom?’
‘That’s just it. No. You won’t believe, but... A monster took the girl. A Vulpess. A she-fox. A Changeling that is.’
‘You are right,’ said witcher coldly, ‘I don't believe you. Changlings, or vixens or more precisely vulpess kidnap only elven children.’
‘That's right, exactly right, to the letter’ groaned Fysh. ‘Because, although it's hard to believe the biggest furrier workshop in Novigrad is managed by a non-human. Breainne Diarbhail ap Muigh, a pure blood elf. Widow of Jacob de Sepulveda, after whom she got all the wealth. The family was unable to overturn the will, nor recognize the marriage as invalid, although it's against custom and godly laws...’
‘To the point,’ interrupted Geralt. ‘To the point, please. You tell me that this furrier, a pure blood elf ordered you to recover her lost child?’
‘Are you trying to fool us?’ Fysh winced. ‘You want to catch us in a lie? You know very well that elves, when their children are kidnapped by vixen never try to get them back. They count them as lost and forget about them. They believe they were destined to be vixen.’
‘Briana de Sepulveda,’ interrupted Kevenard van Vliet, ‘was pretending at the beginning too. She despaired, but in an elven manner, secretly. On the outside a stone face, dry eyes... Va'esse deireádh aep eigan, va'esse eigh faidh'ar, she repeated, which translates to...’
‘Something ends, something begins.’
‘Exactly. But it's nothing, just foolish elven talk, nothing ends, what and why is supposed to end? Briana has lived among humans for a very long time, according to our laws and customs, she is only non-human by blood, and by heart she's almost human. Elven beliefs and superstition are strong, that's true, Briana may be calm to show off to other elves, but she secretly misses her daughter, that's obvious. She would give all to get her only girl back, vixen or no... You are right, Witcher, she has not asked anything, she had not sought help. Despite this we decided to help, being unable to bear such despair. The whole merchant guild raised funds and paid for this expedition. I gave "Prophet" and my own attendance, just like Master Parlaghy, whom you will meet shortly. But because we are businessmen not adventurers, we asked for the help of Master Javil Fysh, known to us as a man of wit, not afraid of risk, experienced in tough situations, famous for his knowledge and experience...’
‘Known for his experience, Master Fysh,’ Geralt looked at the mentioned man, ‘failed to inform you that this rescue expedition is futile, and is upfront doomed to fail. I see two explanations: Master Fysh doesn't have a clue in what situation he has put you. Second, and more probable: Master Fysh took some gold in advance, enough to drag you astray for a bit and then go back with nothing.’
‘You are too quick in your accusations!’ Kevenard van Vliet stopped Fysh who was starting to give a vile reply with a gesture. ‘You are also quick to foretell failure. And we, merchants, always thinking positively...’
‘And that is a good thing. But in this case it will not help.’
‘Because?’
The child that was kidnapped by the vulpess,’ explained Geralt calmly, ‘is beyond recovery. And the problem is not in finding the child, although vixens lead a very secret life. And it's not because the vulpess will not give up the child willingly, and she's not an opponent to treat lightly both in human and animal forms. The thing is that the kidnapped child ceases to be a child. In the kidnapped girls there occurs a change. They transform and become vulpess themselves. Vulpess don't breed. They continue their kind by kidnapping and transforming elven children.’
‘Their foxkind,’ Fysh finally got to voice, ‘should perish. All these werewolves should perish. Vixens, it's true, rarely bother humans. They kidnap only elven puppies, and they harm only elves, which is good in itself, because the larger harm to non-humans the better advantage it is for true humans. But vixens are monsters, and monsters need to be killed, make them die, and eradicate their whole clan. That's your trade, witcher, it's a thing you contribute to. I hope that you will not have it against us, that we contribute to monster’s doom. But this discussion is futile it seems. You wanted explanations, you got them. You know why you were hired and from who... from what you are to defend us.’
‘Your explanations,’ Geralt calmly appraised, ‘are as cloudy, no offense, as urine from an infected bladder. And the nobleness of your cause is as doubtful as the virginity of a maid in the morning after a village fest. But that is your business. My business is to inform you that the only way to defend from an vulpess is to keep far from it. Master van Vliet?’
‘Yes?’
‘Go home. The expedition is without any merit, it's time to realize that, and abandon it. That's what advice I can give you as a witcher. The advice is free.’
‘But you are not leaving, right?’ stuttered van Vliet, whitening a little. ‘Master Witcher? Will you stay with us? And if... And if something happens will you guard us? Agree, please... For Gods' sake, please...’
‘Oh, he’ll agree, Definitely.’ Snorted Fysh. ‘Cause who else will get him to Novigrad, get him out of this swampy shithole? Don't panic, Master van Vliet. You’ve nothing to fear.’
‘Yeah, nothing!’ shouted the businessman. ‘You're good. You got us in a bad fix, and now you act the hero? I want to get to Novigrad in full health! Someone has to guard us, now when we are in trouble... When we are threatened by...’
‘Nothing threatens us. Don't panic like a woman. Go under the deck, like your companion Parlaghy. Have some rum, you will get your courage back instantly.’
Kevenard van Vliet reddened, then whitened, then he found Geralt with his gaze.
‘Enough of being evasive.’ He said emphatically but calmly. ‘The whole truth this time, witcher. The young vulpess – We have her. She's in the hold. Master Parlaghy is watching her.’
Geralt shook his head.
‘Unbelievable. You took the Briana’s daughter from the vulpess? Young Xymena?’
Fysh spat overboard. Van Vliet scratched his head.
‘Not… ah… Xymena as it turns out,’ he stuttered at last. ‘Another fox child… ahh… Came into our possession. One stolen by, and then from, a different vulpess. Master Fysh bought her. As an investment... From soldiers who stole the girl from the vulpess by a trick. We at first thought that this was Xymena, only changed... But Xymena was seven and fair, this one is around twelve and dark-haired.’
‘Although it's not the proper one,’ Fysh anticipated the witcher's question, ‘we took her. Why should elven spawn grow up to be something even worse? And in Novigrad we could sell her to an exotic game collector, she is an oddity after all, savage, half-vixen, raised by a vulpess in the middle of a forest... A menagerie will surely pay well...’
/> Witcher turned his back to him.
‘Captain! Make for the shore.’
‘Whoa, whoa!’ Fysh snarled. ‘Stay the course Boxcray! You don't give the orders around here, witcher.’
‘Master van Vliet,’ Geralt ignored him. ‘I address your common sense. The girl should be freed at once, set down ashore. You’re doomed otherwise. Vulpess don’t abandon their cubs. This one’s on your trail already guaranteed. Only way to stop her is to release the girl.’
‘Don't listen to him,’ said Fysh. ‘Don't let him scare you. We are on the river, In deep water. What can some fox do to us?’
‘And we have a witcher to guard us,’ Peter Cobbin added mockingly. ‘Armed with invisible swords! The famous Geralt of Rivia surely will not be afraid of a random vixen.’
‘I don't know, I don't know,’ mumbled the businessman, gazing at Fysh, and then Geralt and Boxcray. ‘Master Geralt? In Novigrad I will not spare any expense, I will pay for your labor with coin... If only you would defend us.’
‘There’s just one way I can protect you. Captain, to shore. We’re putting the girl on land.’
‘Don't even dare!’ Fysh whitened. ‘One step towards the hold and you’ll regret it. Cobbin! Stop him!’
Peter Cobbin wanted to catch Geralt by the collar, but failed to do so, because silent and calm until this moment Addario Bach went into action. The dwarf kicked Cobbin forcefully in the bend of the knee. Cobbin fell onto his knees. Addario jumped nearer, hit him with a swing on his kidney, and then on the side of Cobbin's head. The giant fell onto the deck.
‘He’s large – so what? What’d that get him?.’ The dwarf gave everyone around a stare. ‘Just a louder thud when he dropped.’
Fysh had his hand on the handle of his knife, but let it loose when Addario looked at him. Van Vliet stood with his mouth wide open, just like captain Boxcray and the rest of the crew. Peter Cobbin moaned and lifted his forehead from the boards of deck.