The Last Wish, Introducing The Witcher Read Online Free PDF Page A

witcher,” he said. “From fear, no doubt. Don't be afraid. I bring you reprieve.”
    The witcher did not reply.
    “Don't you hear what I say, you Rivian charlatan? You're saved. And rich.” Ostrit hefted a sizeable purse in his hand and threw it at Geralt's feet. “A thousand orens. Take it, get on your horse and get out of here!”
    The Rivian still said nothing.
    “Don't gawp at me!” Ostrit raised his voice. “And don't waste my time. I have no intention of standing here until midnight. Don't you understand? I do not wish you to undo the spell. No, you haven't guessed. I am not in league with Velerad and Segelin. I don't want you to kill her. You are simply to leave. Everything is to stay as it is.”
    The witcher did not move. He did not want the magnate to realize how fast his movements and reactions now were. It was quickly growing dark. A relief, as even the semi-darkness of dusk was too bright for his dilated pupils.
    “And why, sir, is everything to remain as it is?” he asked, trying to enunciate each word slowly.
    “Now, that”—Ostrit raised his head proudly—“should really be of damn little concern to you.”
    “And what if I already know?”
    “Go on.”
    “It will be easier to remove Foltest from the throne if the striga frightens the people even more? If the royal madness completely disgusts both magnates and common folk, am I right? I came here by way of Redania and Novigrad. There is much talk there that there are those in Wyzim who look to King Vizimir as their savior and true monarch. But I, Lord Ostrit, do not care about politics, or the successions to thrones, or revolutions in palaces. I am here to accomplish my task. Have you never heard of a sense of responsibility and plain honesty? About professional ethics?”
    “Careful to whom you speak, you vagabond!” Ostrit yelled furiously, placing his hand on the hilt of his sword. “I have had enough of this. I am not accustomed to hold such discussions! Look at you—ethics, codes of practice, morality?! Who are you to talk? A brigand who's barely arrived before he starts murdering men? Who bends double to Foltest and behind his back bargains with Velerad like a hired thug? And you dare to turn your nose up at me, you serf? Play at being a Knowing One? A Magician? You scheming witcher! Be gone before I run the flat of my sword across your gob!”
    The witcher did not stir. He stood calmly.
    “You'd better leave, Lord Ostrit,” he said. “It's growing dark.”
    Ostrit took a step back, drew his sword in a flash.
    “You asked for this, you sorcerer. I’ll kill you. Your tricks won't help you. I carry a turtle-stone.”
    Geralt smiled. The reputation of turtle-stone was as mistaken as it was popular. But the witcher was not going to lose his strength on spells, much less expose his silver sword to contact with Ostrit's blade. He dived under the whirling blade and, with the heel of his hand and his silver-studded cuff, hit him in the temple.
    VI
    Ostrit quickly regained consciousness and looked around in the total darkness. He noticed that he was tied up. He did not see Geralt standing right beside him. But he realized where he was and let out a prolonged, terrifying howl.
    “Keep quiet,” said the witcher. “Otherwise you'll lure her out before her time.”
    “You damned murderer! Where are you? Untie me immediately, you louse! You'll hang for this, you son of a bitch!”
    “Quiet.”
    Ostrit panted heavily.
    “You're leaving me here to be devoured by her! Tied up?” he asked, quieter now, whispering a vile invective.
    “No,” said the witcher. “I’ll let you go. But not now.”
    “You scoundrel,” hissed Ostrit. “To distract the striga?”
    “Yes.”
    Ostrit didn't say anything. He stopped wriggling and lay quietly.
    “Witcher?”
    “Yes.”
    “It's true that I wanted to overthrow Foltest. I’m not the only one. But I am the only one who wanted him dead. I wanted him to die in agony, to go mad, to rot alive. Do