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the merchants using the highway. If anyone went astray here and my father spotted them from
the tower, they lost -at best  their fortune. And a couple of the nearer settlements
were burnt because Father decided the levies were being paid tardily. Not many people liked
my father. Except for me, naturally. I cried awfully when what was left of my father after a
blow from a two-handed sword was brought home on a cart one day. Grandpa didn't take part
in robbery any more because, ever since he was hit on the head with a morningstar, he had a
terrible stutter. He dribbled and rarely made it to the privy on time. As their heir, I had to lead
the gang.
'I was young at the time,' Nivellen continued, 'a real milksop, so the lads in the crew wound
me around their little fingers in a flash. I was as much in command of them as a fat piglet is of
a pack of wolves. We soon began doing things which Father would never have allowed, had
he been alive. I'll spare you the details and get straight to the point. One day we took
ourselves as far as Gelibol, near Mirt, and robbed a temple. A young priestess was there too.'
'Which temple, Nivellen?'
'Pox only knows, but it must have been a bad one. There were skulls and bones on the altar, I
remember, and a green fire was burning. It stank like nobody's business. But to the point. The
lads overpowered the priestess and stripped her, then said I had to become a man. Well, I
became a man, stupid little snot that I was, and while I was achieving manhood the priestess
spat into my face and screamed something.'
'What?'
'That I was a monster in human skin, that I'd be a monster in a monster's skin, something
about love, blood ... I can't remember. She must have had the dagger, a little one, hidden in
her hair. She killed herself and then
'We fled from there, Geralt, I'm telling you - we nearly wore our horses out. It was a bad
temple.'
'Go on.'
'Then it was as the priestess had said. A few days later, I woke up and as the servants saw me,
they screamed and took to their heels. I went to the mirror . . . You see, Geralt, I panicked,
had some sort of an attack, I remember it almost
through a haze. To put it briefly, corpses fell. Several. I used whatever came to hand - and I'd
suddenly become very strong. And the house helped as best it could: doors slammed, furniture
flew in the air, fires broke out. Whoever could get out ran away in a-panic: my aunt and
cousin, the lads from the crew. What am I saying? Even the dogs howled and cowered. My
cat, Glutton, ran away. Even my aunt's parrot kicked the bucket out of fear. I was alone,
roaring, howling, going mad, smashing whatever came to hand, mainly mirrors.'
Nivellen paused, sighed and sniffed. .
'When the attack was over,' he resumed after a while, 'it was already too late. I was alone. I
couldn't explain to anyone that only my appearance had changed, that although in this horrible
shape I was just a stupid youngster, sobbing over the servants' bodies in an empty manor. I
was afraid they'd come back and kill me before I could explain. But nobody returned.'
The monster grew silent for a moment and wiped his nose on his sleeve. 'I don't want to go
back to those first months, Geralt. It still leaves me shaking when I recall them. I'll get to the
point. For a long time, a very long time, I sat in the manor, quiet as a mouse, not stirring from
the place. If anyone appeared, which rarely happened, I wouldn't go out. I'd tell the house to
slam the shutters a couple of times, or I'd roar through the gargoyle, and that was usually
enough for the would-be guest to leave in a hurry. So that's how it was, until one day I looked
out of the window one pale dawn and - what did I see? Some trespasser stealing a rose from
my aunt's bush. And it isn't just any old rosebush: these are blue roses from Nazair. It was
Grandfather who brought the seedlings. I flew into a fury and jumped outside.
'The fat trespasser, when he got his voice back - he'd lost it when he saw me  squealed that
he only wanted a few flowers for his daughter, that I should spare him, spare his life and his
health. I was just ready to kick him out of the main gate when I remembered something.
Stories Lenka, my nanny - the old bag used to tell me. Pox on it, I thought, if pretty girls turn [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]