The horse snorted and shied away asthe old witcher approached, a red-stained sack in his hand. “Calmdown old thing,” Vesemir soothed, “this beast is far too dead tobite.” The horse gave another disapproving snort, but allowed thewitcher to tie the sack onto the saddlebags. Once in the saddle,Vesemir turned the horse back down the path, which meandered lazilyunder the dense forest canopy. When he emerged from the woods sometime later, the walls and towers of Maribor came into view. Thewitcher glanced at the sun. “Seems we'll be back in time forsupper, not bad at all.”
As the evening shadows lengthened, theold witcher arrived at the tavern where his employers waited. Theywere a group of landowners with property in and around the denseforest west of the city. Maribor's dense forests were a perennialsource of dangerous beasts, and Vesemir rarely failed to find workwhen he passed through.
“Master witcher!” called out SirDorrigan Merigold from the table, “any success?”
As he had done countless times incountless places, Vesemir first presented the blood-stained sack,allowing the onlookers a moment of anticipation. Then he reached inand drew out the beast's head, with its wickedly curved beak and coldeyes. The tavern's occupants made impressed noises and stretchedtheir necks for a better view.
“What a brute! Well done masterwitcher!” said Sir Momot.
“Any injuries sir?” inquired SirDorrigan. “Shall we send for a healer?”
“No, I was fortunate enough to havea clean hunt.”
“Ha! Not a scratch on him!” saida third noble. “A true professional makes it easy!”
“Thegreat secret of the witcher's guild,” mused Vesemir, “is knowingwhen to duck.”
“That soundslike a toast in the making! Join us, master witcher, and let's drinkto timely ducking!”
…
“Let's put that beast head in vinegar. I know some collectors who love such curiosities-surely one of them will buy it tomorrow. A nice little bonus on topof your fee.”
“Thank you SirDorrigan,” replied Vesemir. “That's most kind.”
“Not at all. Ibelieve you slew a few beasts for my father years ago- the name ofWitcher Vesemir is well known on the west side of Maribor. Do youhave accommodations tonight? I would gladly offer you a room in mytower.”
…
The Merigoldfamily tower was a small but dignified stone structure, probablybuilt a hundred years ago by a wealthy ancestor. As with so many oldfamilies the original wealth had largely dried up, but Sir Dorriganmanaged to maintain the estate, pay the requisite taxes, and lead thecomfortable life of minor nobility. Vesemir and his host sat in thedining room, enjoying the smell of cooking from the kitchen andchatting amiably.
A curly mass of chestnut hair emergedfrom the kitchen, its short owner obscured by the table, and bounced its way in Vesemir's direction. As the hair rounded table's corner he saw that itbelonged to a smiling blue-eyed girl of perhaps five or six year's age,carrying two glasses in her hands. Must be Sir Dorrigan'syoungest, thought the witcher.What did he say her name was again?
“Aha,here is our Triss with the wine,” exclaimed Sir Dorrigan. “Trissdear, this is Master Vesemir, of the guild of witchers.”
“Ooh, how do youdo, master witcher sir?” The girl gave a practiced curtsy, and herfather smiled approvingly. “Did you slay the Dragon Bird sir? Papa said it was a frightfully dangerous beast!”
“Dragon Bird?”Vesemir laughed.
“It's what thechildren named the cockatrice after they saw a drawing in a book,”Sir Dorrigan explained. “And yes, Master Vesemir has dispatchedthe beast for us.”
“Thisis for you, master witcher sir,” the girl announced cheerfully.“It's a... Lib-urn-ee... from Metinna, barreled in 1218! I readthe label as Mummy poured it”
“A mostexcellent vintage!” Chuckled Vesemir as he reached to accept theproffered glass of Metinna Libourne. “Thank you child.”
AsVesemir took hold of the glass his little finger touched the girl'ssmall hand, and he felt the wolf's head medallion around his necktwitch. That's interesting, hethought to himself.
“Oh sir! Yourwolf's head danced! I saw it! Is it magic sir? Can you make itdance again?”
“Don't bothermaster Vesemir, Triss,” her father chided gently, taking the otherglass from her hand. “He's had a hard day chasing that monster inthe forest.”
“It's perfectlyall right Sir Dorrigan. A child's curiosity is a refreshing changefrom the usual stares we witchers receive in the inns.” Vesemirpondered for a moment then decided to test a hunch. “Here girl,lets see if the wolf will 'dance' for you again.”
Vesemirunclasped the chain around his neck and placed the medallion in thegirl's outstretched hands. Immediately the silver wolf's head beganto jump and twitch, and the girl squeaked in delight. Thisis getting very interesting,thought Vesemir, who was definitely not performing any magic himself.
“Thank youmaster Vesemir!” The girl handed back the medallion. “Dowitchers use a lot of magic?”
“We witchershave a few magical tricks to help us work, but we're not propermagicians.” Vesemir casually gestured a sign at the candle beforehim, extinguishing the flame with a minute stream of power. “Realmagic takes years of study, but we spend most of our study time onmonsters and the arts of the sword.” With a second gesture andanother tiny impulse the old witcher re-lit the candle.
Triss clapped herhands in appreciation. “One more time, oh please sir!”
“All rightchild,” Vesemir smiled and repeated the trick with the two signs. This time the girl's eyes stayed focused on his fingers.
“Hmm...” shemuttered, her face narrowing in concentration. Then she extended herarm, her fingers forming a shape.
The flame wentout... in a sharp explosion of cold air that pulverized the candle,and the platter of grapes behind it. A furious cloud of wax andfruit pulp smacked into the wall, splattering the tapestry withsugary mess. The girl froze, her blue eyes wide and locked on herfather's astonished face.
Vesemir recoveredfirst from the shock. “Perhaps it would be best, child,” he saidsteadily, “if you don't try the second part for now. Especiallynot indoors.”
