Read Online The Sword of Destiny by Andrzej Sapkowski - Free Book Online Page B

Yennefer turned her back on the scene ostentatiously, showing greater concern for her dress which had torn up to the hip than for the words of Eyck.
    "We perhaps went a little too far," Dorregaray granted, "but for noble reasons, Lord Eyck, without a doubt. I consider, however, your comments regarding magicians, dwarves and witchers unseemly, even if we're used to these types of opinions they are neither polite nor worthy of a knight, Lord Eyck. And I will also add: all the less comprehensible as it was you, and no one else, who a short while ago ran up and threw the magical elven rope which saved the witcher and the sorceress from certain death. From what you're now saying, I don't understand why you didn't pray for them to fall instead."
    "Bloody hell," murmured Geralt to Jaskier. "It's him who brought the rope? Eyck? Not Dorregaray?"
    "No," muttered the bard. "It was definitely Eyck."
    Geralt shook his head in disbelief. Yennefer cursed under her breath and straightened up.
    "Knight Eyck," she said to him with a smile that all, except Geralt, believed kind and benevolent. "Can you explain why? I am vermin, but you saved my life?"
    "You are a lady, dear Yennefer." The knight bowed stiffly. "Your charming and sincere face makes me think that one day you will break free of your accursed magic."
    Boholt snorted.
    "I thank you, sir knight," Yennefer replied coldly. "The witcher Geralt also thanks you. Thank him Geralt."
    "The devil take me first," replied the witcher with absolute sincerity. "Why should I thank him? I'm only a detestable mutant whose vile face brooks no improvement. The Knight Eyck pulled me from the void by accident, only because I was stubbornly held by a lady. If I'd been alone, Eyck wouldn't even have lifted his little finger. Am I mistaken, knight?"
    "You are mistaken, Lord Geralt," replied the knight errant serenely. "I never refuse assistance to those that need it. Even a witcher."
    "Thank him, Geralt. And beg his forgiveness," the sorceress told him firmly. "Otherwise, you confirm all that Eyck says about you. You don't know how to live with others because you're different. Your presence in this expedition is a mistake. An absurd purpose brings you here. It would be more reasonable for us to leave. I think that you understand this yourself. If not, it's high time that you did understand it."
    "What purpose are you talking about, madam?" Gyllenstiern intervened.
    The sorceress looked at him without answering. Jaskier and Yarpen Zigrin smiled at each other significantly, but so as not to be seen be the sorceress.
    The witcher fixed his gaze on Yennefer's eyes. They were cold.
    "Please excuse me, Knight of Denesle, my sincere thanks you," he announced, bowing his head. "I also thank all persons present for our hasty rescue. Hanging from the bridge, I heard how all and sundry rushed to our assistance. I beg you all for forgiveness. Except for the noble Yennefer, whom I thank without asking anything in return. Goodbye. This vermin is leaving the company, because this vermin has had enough of you. Take care, Jaskier."
    "Hey, Geralt," said Boholt. "Stop acting like a spoiled little girl throwing a tantrum. There's no need to make a mountain out of a molehill. Damn it..."
    "Mylooords!"
    From out of the gorge ran Kozojed and some of the Holopole militiamen who had been sent out to scout the narrows of the ravine.
    "What's happening? What's wrong with him?" asked Nischuka, raising his head.
    "My lords... my... dear lords," the shoemaker finally managed, out of breath.
    "Stop wheezing, friend," said Gyllenstiern, jamming his thumbs into his gold belt.
    "The dragon! Over there, the dragon!"
    "Where?"
    "On the other side of the ravine... on the flats... lord... It..."
    "To the horses!" commanded Gyllenstiern.
    "Nischuka!" shouted Boholt, "To the wagon! Ripper, to your horse and follow me!"
    "Get to it, boys!" yelled Yarpen Zigrin. "Get to it, damn it!"
    "Hey! Wait!" Jaskier had slung his lute over his shoulder.