It worries and troubles me very much that the unexpected present you received from Fate brings you worries. Your supposition that this requires professional help is absolutely correct. Although your description of the difficulty – quite understandably – is enigmatic, I am sure I know the Source of the problem. And I agree with your opinion that the help of yet another magician is absolutely necessary.
J feel honoured to be the second to whom you turn. What have I done to deserve to be so high on your list?
Rest assured, my dear friend; and if you had the intention of supplicating the help of additional magicians, abandon it because there is no need. I leave without delay, and go to the place which you indicated in an oblique yet, to me, understandable way. It goes without saying that I leave in absolute secrecy and with great caution. I will surmise the nature of the trouble on the spot and will do all that is in my power to calm the gushing source. I shall try, in so doing, not to appear any worse than other ladies to whom you have turned, are turning or usually turn with your supplications. I am, after all, your dear friend. Your valuable friendship is too important to me to disappoint you, dear friend.
Should you, in the next few years, wish to write to me, do not hesitate for a moment. Your letters invariably give me boundless pleasure.
Your friend Yennefer
The letter smelled of lilac and gooseberries.
Geralt cursed.
He was torn from his reverie by the movement on deck and a rocking of the barge that indicated they were changing course. Some of the passengers crowded starboard. Skipper Boatbug was yelling orders from the bow; the barge was slowly and laboriously turning towards the Temerian shore, leaving the fairway and ceding right of way to two ships looming through the mist. The witcher watched with curiosity.
The first was an enormous three-masted galliass at least a hundred and forty yards long, carrying an amaranth flag with a silver eagle. Behind it, its forty oars rhythmically hard at work, glided a smaller, slim galley adorned with a black ensign with gold-red chevron.
‘Ooohh, what huge dragons,’ said Boatbug standing next to the witcher. ‘They’re pushing a heck of a wave, the way they’re ploughing the river.’
‘Interesting,’ muttered Geralt. ‘The galliass is sailing under the Redanian flag but the galley is from Aedirn.’
‘From Aedirn, very much so,’ confirmed the skipper. ‘And it carries the Governor of Hagge’s pennon. But note, both ships have sharp keels, near on four yards’ draught. That means they’re not sailing to’ Hagge itself — they wouldn’t cross the rapids and shallows up the river. They’re heading to Foam or White Bridge. And look, there are swarms of soldiers on the decks. These aren’t merchants. They’re war ships, Geralt.’
‘Someone important is on that galliass. They’ve set up a tent on deck.’
‘That’s right, that’s how the nobles travel.’ Boatbug nodded, picking his teeth with a splinter peeled from the barge’s side. ‘It’s safer by river. Elven commandos are roaming the forests. There’s no knowing which tree an arrow’s going to come flying from. But on the water there’s no fear. Elves, like cats, don’t like water. They prefer dwelling in brushwood …”
‘It’s got to be someone really important. The tent is rich.’
‘That’s right, could be. Who knows, maybe King Vizimir himself is favouring the river with his presence? All sorts of people are travelling this way now . . . And while we’re at it, in Foam you asked me to keep my ears open in case anyone was interested in you, asking about you. Well, that weakling there, you see him?’
‘Don’t point, Boatbug. Who is he?’
‘How should I know? Ask him yourself, he’s coming over. Just look at his stagger! And the water’s as still as a mirror, pox on it; if it were to swell just a little he’d probably be on all fours, the oaf.’
The ‘oaf turned out to be a short, thin man of uncertain age, dressed in a large, woollen and none-too-clean cloak pinned in place with a circular brass broach. Its pin, clearly lost, had been replaced by a crooked nail with a flattened head. The man approached, cleared his throat and squinted with his myopic eyes.
‘ Hmm . . . Do I have the pleasure of speaking to Geralt of Rivia, the witcher?’
‘Yes, sir. You do.’
‘Allow me to introduce myself. I am Linus Pitt, Master Tutor and Lecturer in Natural History at the Oxenfurt Academy.’
‘My very great pleasure’
‘Hmm . . . I’ve been told that you, sir, are on commission from the Malatius and Grock Company to protect this transport. Apparently from the danger of some monster attack. I wonder what this “monster” could be.’
‘I wonder myself.’ The witcher leaned against the ship’s side, gazing at the dark outline of the marshy meadows on the Temerian river bank looming in the mist. ‘And have come to the conclusion that I have most likely been hired as a precaution against an attack from a Scoia’tael commando force said to be roaming the vicinity. This is my sixth journey between Foam and Novigrad and no aeschna has shown itself—’
‘Aeschna? That’s some kind of common name. I would rather you used the scientific terminology. Hmm . . . aeschna … I truly do not know which species you have in mind—’
‘I’m thinking of a bumpy and rough-skinned monster four yards in length resembling a stump overgrown with algae and with ten paws and jaws like cut-saws.’
‘The description leaves a lot to be desired as regards scientific precision. Could it be one of the species of the Hyphydridae family?’
‘I don’t exclude the possibility,’ sighed Geralt. ‘The aeschna, as far as I know, belongs to an exceptionally nasty family for which no name can be abusive. The thing is, Master Tutor, that apparently a member of this unsympathetic clan attacked the Company’s barge two weeks ago. Here, on the Delta, not far from where we are.’
‘He who says this’ – Linus Pitt gave a screeching laugh – ‘is either an ignoramus or a liar. Nothing like that could have happened. I know the fauna of the Delta very well. The family Hyphydridae does not appear here at all. Nor do any other quite so dangerous predatory species. The considerable salinity and atypical chemical composition of the water, especially during high tide—’
‘During high tide,’ interrupted Geralt, ‘when the incoming tide wave passes the Novigrad canals, there is no water – to use the word precisely — in the Delta at all. There is a liquid made up of excrement, soapsuds, oil and dead rats.’
‘Unfortunately, unfortunately.’ The Master Tutor grew sad. ‘Degradation of the environment . . . You may not believe it, but of
more than two thousand species of fish living in this river only fifty years ago, not more than nine hundred remain. It is truly sad.’
They both leaned against the railing and stared into the murky green depths. The tide must have already been coming in because the stench of the water was growing stronger. The first dead rats appeared.
‘The white-finned bullhead has died off completely.’ Linus Pitt broke the silence. ‘The mullet has died, as have the snakehead, the kithara, the striped loach, the redbelly dace, the long-barbel gudgeon, the king pickerel . . .’
At a distance of about twenty yards from the ship’s side, the water surged. For a moment, both men saw a twenty-pound or more specimen of the king pickerel swallowing a dead rat and disappearing into the depths, having gracefully flashed its tail fin.
‘What was that?’ The Master Tutor shuddered.
‘I don’t know.’ Geralt looked at the sky. ‘A penguin maybe?’
The scholar glanced at him and bit his lips.
‘In all certainty it was not, however, your mythical aeschna! I have been told that witchers possess considerable knowledge about some rare species. But you, you not only repeat rumours and tales, you are also mocking me in a most crude manner . . . Are you listening to me at all?’
‘The mist isn’t going to lift,’ said Geralt quietly.
‘Huh?’
‘The wind is still weak. When we sail into the arm of the river, between the islets, it will be even weaker. It is going to be misty right up to Novigrad.’
‘I’m not going to Novigrad. I get off at Oxenfurt,’ declared Pitt dryly. ‘And the mist? It is surely not so thick as to render navigation impossible; what do you think?’
The little boy in the feathered hat ran past them and leaned far out, trying, with his stick, to fish out a rat bouncing against the boat. Geralt approached and tore the stick from him.
‘Scram. Don’t get near the side!’
‘Muuuummyyyy!’
‘Everett! Come here immediately!’
The Master Tutor pulled himself up and glared at the witcher with piercing eyes.
‘It seems you really do believe we are in some danger?’
‘Master Pitt,’ said Geralt as calmly as he could, ‘two weeks ago something pulled two people off the deck of one of the Company’s barges. In the mist. I don’t know what it was. Maybe it was your hyphydra or whatever its name is. Maybe it was a long-barbel gudgeon. But I think it was an aeschna.
The scholar pouted. ‘Conjecture,’ he declared, ‘should always be based on solid scientific foundations, not on rumours and gossip. I told you, the hyphydra, which you persist in calling an aeschna, does not appear in the waters of the Delta. It was wiped out a good half-century ago, due – incidentally – to the activity of individuals such as yourself who are prepared to kill anything that does not instantly look right, without forethought, tests, observation or considering its ecological niche.’
For a moment, Geralt felt a sincere desire to tell the scholar where he could put the aeschna and its niche, but he changed his mind.
‘Master Tutor,’ he said calmly, ‘one of those pulled from the deck was a young pregnant girl. She wanted to cool her swollen feet in the water. Theoretically, her child could, one day, have become chancellor of your college. What do you have to say to such an approach to ecology?’
‘It is unscientific; it is emotional and subjective. Nature is governed by its own rules and although these rules are cruel and ruthless, they should not be amended. It is a struggle for survival!’ The Master Tutor leaned over the railing and spat into the water. ‘And nothing can justify the extermination of a species, even a predatory one. What do you say to that?’
‘I say that it’s dangerous to lean out like that. There might be an aeschna in the vicinity. Do you want to try out the aeschna’s struggle for survival on your own skin?’
Linus Pitt let go of the railing and abruptly jumped away. He turned a little pale but immediately regained his self-assurance and pursed his lips again.
‘No doubt you know a great deal about these fantastical aeschna, witcher?’
‘Certainly less than you. So maybe we should make use of the opportunity? Enlighten me, Master Tutor, expound a little upon your knowledge of aquatic predators. I’ll willingly listen, and the journey won’t seem so long.’
‘Are you making fun of me?’
‘Not at all. I would honestly like to fill in the gaps in my education.’
‘Hmmm … If you really . . . Why not? Listen then to me. The Hyphydridae family, belonging to the Amphipoda order, includes four species known to science. Two live exclusively in tropical waters. In our climate, on the other hand, one can come across — though very rarely now – the not-so-large Hyphydra longicauda and the somewhat larger Hyphydra marginata. The biotope of both species is stagnant water or water which flows very slowly. The species are, indeed, predatory, preferring to feed on warm-blooded creatures . . . 1 lave you anything to add?’
‘Not right now. I’m listening with bated breath.’
‘Yes, hmm . . . Mention can also be found, in the great books, of the subspecies Pseudohyphydra, which lives in the marshy waters of Angren. However, the learned Bumbler of Aldersberg recently proved that this is an entirely different species, one from the Mordidae family. It feeds exclusively on fish and small amphibians. It has been named Ichtyovorax bumbleri.’
‘The monster’s lucky,’ smiled the witcher. ‘That’s the third time he was named.’
‘How come?’
‘The creature you’re talking about is an ilyocoris, called a cinerea in Elder Speech. And if the learned Bumbler states that it feeds exclusively on fish then I assume he has never bathed in a lake with an ilyocoris. But Bumbler is right on one account: the aeschna has as much in common with a cinerea as I do with a fox. We both like to eat duck.’
‘What cinerea?’ The Master Tutor bridled. ‘The cinerea is a mythical creature! Indeed, your lack of knowledge disappoints me. Truly, I am amazed
‘I know,’ interrupted Geralt. ‘I lose a great deal of my charm when one gets to know me better. Nevertheless I will permit myself to correct your theories a little further, Master Pitt. So, aeschnae have always lived in the Delta and continue to do so. Indeed, there was a time when it seemed that they had become extinct. For they lived off those small seals—’
‘River porpoises,’ corrected the Master Tutor. ‘Don’t be an ignoramus. Don’t mistake seals for—’
-they lived off porpoises and the porpoises were killed off because they looked like seals. They provided seal-like skins and fat. Then, later, canals were dug out in the upper reaches of the river, dams and barriers built. The current grew weaker; the Delta got silted up and overgrown. And the aeschnae underwent mutation. It adapted.’
‘Huh?’
‘Humans have rebuilt its food chain. They supplied warm-blooded creatures in the place of porpoises. Sheep, cattle, swine began to be transported across the Delta. The aeschnae learned in a flash that every barge, raft or barque on the Delta was, in fact, a large platter of food.’
‘And the mutation? You spoke of mutation!’
‘This liquid manure’ – Geralt indicated the green water – ‘seems to suit the aeschna. It enhances its growth. The damn thing can become so large, apparently, that it can drag a cow off a raft with no effort whatsoever. Pulling a human off a deck is nothing. Especially the deck of one of these scows the Company uses to transport passengers. You can see for yourselves how low it sits in the water.’
The Master Tutor quickly backed away from the ship’s side, as far as the carts and baggage allowed.
‘I heard a splash!’ he gasped, staring at the mist between the islets. ‘Witcher! I heard—’