Refusal

Letho looked slightly tired, and a few faint scratches stood out on his heavily muscled body.

"Hym is dead." He held out a hand to the dwarf, revealing a clump of gray powder in his broad palm. It continued to give off a faint, hot, fishy odor.

Roy, standing nearby, sniffed the familiar smell. The corners of his mouth curled into a faint smile, as if everything had gone exactly as he expected.

"Master Letho, I can't thank you enough!" The dwarf scooped up a handful of Hym's remains and clenched them in his fist, as if venting his feelings. His eyes reddened, and at last he let go of the worry that had weighed on him.

This Witcher was far stronger than he could have imagined. Just recalling the fierce battle that had taken place moments ago made a chill run down his spine.

But there was no doubt about it: the terrifying devil that had tormented him for months was finally dead.

He was free!

He gleefully scattered the ashes into the air, then hurriedly took a banknote from his pocket in front of Letho and presented it to him with heartfelt gratitude. "This is the agreed-upon payment. You can cash it at any Vivaldi, Giandante, or Sionnfainnili bank."

Letho glanced at the figure on the note and tucked it away. He knew that these dwarf banks had branches in nearly every major city.

"Witcher, Roy, we dwarves have secretly supported the Revolutionary Army for a long time, partly to keep the forces in Edessberg balanced. Ordinary people and merchants alike stand to benefit the most. If this secret gets out and everyone learns that revolutionary leader Vernon Roche died in a dwarf's wine cellar, the Mahakaman dwarves will automatically be branded as allies of the baron. The balance will be broken. So please, you must keep this secret for me."

"Of course," Letho said gravely. "I won't tarnish the Viper School's honor."

"I promise, too."

The dwarf bowed solemnly to them both.

"I'll remember your kindness. From now on, you'll always be welcome at my table. Come visit whenever you like! But first, it's getting late. Please let me host you once more and treat you to lunch at my home."

"Please, Mr. Sevir, there's no need for such kind words. This was a fair contract. You paid us, and that settles it." Letho didn't accept the dwarf's flattery. "Still, we'd be happy to have another meal."

Back in the hall, while Sevir was away, Roy eyed the Witcher with undisguised curiosity, looking him up and down as if seeing the bald man for the first time. He kept staring until even the other man's eternally impassive face showed a hint of irritation. Then he asked quietly, "Was there really a devil in the wine cellar?"

Letho shot him a surprised look. "What do you think?"

"Hym's ashes were actually pterodactyl droppings, weren't they? I smelled that stuff for several nights. I couldn't mistake it."

Roy was ninety percent certain that the so-called remains of Hym Letho had just handed to the dwarf were the same pterodactyl droppings Letho had used to keep wild animals away while camping in the wilderness a few days ago.

"He wanted to get rid of the devil and find peace of mind, so I gave him a devil. Isn't that fair?"

"If he couldn't find the devil, he'd never be at ease." Letho paused. "You'll understand when you're older. The negative emotions in people's hearts can sometimes be more terrifying than monsters."

"At least we've completed the contract without a hitch. From now on, Seville Hogg should be able to sleep peacefully."

Letho gazed up at the brightly lit ceiling, his tone tinged with inexplicable melancholy.

Would getting rid of this imaginary Hym really let him sleep peacefully? Roy had his doubts. Still, Master Letho had far more experience, and as someone who'd been through it all, he was probably a better judge.

"I have another question. How did you make Hym's shadow? Even I almost fell for it."

At his question, the big man quietly raised his hands. His callused fingers interlocked and danced in the candlelight, nimble as butterflies.

"Letho, when you stop being a Witcher, you could try making a living at the theater. You've got the acting chops."

The three of them dined in a splendid banquet hall.

Now that his greatest worry was behind him, Sevir was unusually talkative. He spoke animatedly about his experiences and amusing anecdotes from Mahakam.

The dwarves' homeland, Mahakam, had upheld a policy of neutrality and self-preservation throughout every stage of the Northern Wars, allowing it to remain untouched.

Neither Aedirn, east of the mountains, nor Temeria, to the west, nor Nilfgaard during its later northern campaign had managed to get anything out of them. Besides producing fine wine, Mahakam was rich in minerals. More than half the mines, foundries, and forges in the North were located there. Its craftsmen were beyond counting, and it produced the finest steel and weapons in the North.

Any nation that tried to interfere with the Mahakaman dwarves' autonomy would face retaliation and never receive another weapon or piece of equipment from Mahakam.

It wasn't a mountain range; it was a mountain of gold!

It helped that dwarves reproduced far more slowly than humans and needed a full fifty-five years to reach adulthood. They had neither the numbers nor the population base to expand and conquer, so for the time being they were content to live in Mahakam.

In this era, dwarves were among the nonhuman races with the most comfortable lives. Some, however, left their homeland: some joined the Scoia'tael, which still operated underground, and made their living through robbery and murder; others went to human cities to work in banking or metalworking. Their fellow dwarves looked down on them, but perhaps thanks to their natural talents, they managed well enough.

As he spoke, Sevir couldn't hide his pride, or a trace of envy.

After all, his license to distribute wine was worth far less than a license to trade in weapons and ore.

Once the dwarf got going, he talked at length. Every so often he asked about the Witchers' lives, then offered a few obsequious compliments.

When Roy's knowledge of the Scoia'tael, a closely guarded secret, came up, he merely gave a vague explanation. Seeing that the Witcher didn't seem surprised, Sevir let the matter drop.

The meal was a delight for host and guests alike.

"Weapons for enemies, fine wine for friends. Join me for one more drink!"

After they had eaten and drunk their fill, the dwarf came over and hesitated theatrically for a moment. "Actually, I have one more favor to ask."

"Don't tell me you want us to take care of that body?" Roy asked casually, half joking. To his surprise, Sevir's eyes lit up, and he seized on the suggestion. "You're truly Master Letho's assistant. That's exactly what I had in mind."

Help him transport the Revolutionary Army leader's corpse?

Roy didn't even think about it. He shook his head vigorously, grumbling inwardly that a free meal wasn't worth risking his neck.

"I heard the Revolutionary Army is planning a huge demonstration this afternoon, to force the baron to release the fellow in your wine barrel."

Doing that now would be nothing short of asking for trouble.

The dwarf didn't lose heart. Instead, he turned to Letho.

The Witcher thought for barely a second before opening his hands. "Sorry, this isn't the sort of contract Witchers specialize in. We can't take the money. Leave the body to someone else. Besides, with your connections and resources, Lord Sevir, getting a body out of the city shouldn't be difficult. We won't get involved."

The dwarf stroked his beard, his face full of bitterness. "The baron's soldiers have already searched my estate once, but there's no telling if they'll come back. To be honest, the baron has me under close surveillance. The moment I leave my home, I can't escape his spies. Besides, I don't want a fourth person to learn this secret. I don't trust anyone else. I can only ask you two."

Roy suggested, "If all else fails, find a place and burn the body there."

The dwarf shook his head hastily.

"I killed Aken through my own carelessness. If I desecrate my close friend's body as well, I fear I'll never find peace again! I want to make amends. Ideally, I'd return Aken's body to the Revolutionary Army, without letting anyone trace it back to me."

"Impossible!"

Letho flatly refused. Taking the leader's corpse back to them—would that be a threat or an insult? Even setting aside the danger of transporting it and the Revolutionary Army's elusive movements, getting away after delivering it would be a problem in itself.

The bearded dwarf lowered his head, his manner subdued.

His eager, hopeful gaze gave Roy goosebumps. Then an idea suddenly came to him.

"Let me think. How big is the barrel holding the body?"

Sevir answered without hesitation. He had been dealing with the wine barrels in his cellar for decades and knew their dimensions by heart.

"What, have you thought of something?"

The dwarf was puzzled. Even Master Letho had no solution. How could this unremarkable boy have one?

Roy pondered for a moment, then quickly worked out the barrel's volume using the math he'd learned in his previous life. The Storage Space could just barely hold it.

But he wasn't sure whether it was wise to get involved, so he looked at the bald man again. The other man gave him a slight shake of the head.

"Sorry, Lord Sevir. There's nothing I can do."

The dwarf couldn't hide his disappointment. "I won't press you any further. But if you change your minds, you're welcome to visit again at any time. If you help me resolve this, I'll treat you both as brothers."