Stories

THIS JOB IS NOT FOR EVERYONE

Something wasn’t right. When I woke up, even before they came for me, I knew something was wrong. 

It was early, the sun had just risen above the rooftops, but Novigrad never slept. Never! The casinos were in full swing, people in the streets yelled at thieves be it morning or evening, and whores? They probably did not need to sleep at all. Even so early in the morning, the city should have been as loud as a newborn and just as annoying… But today, there was a dead silence behind the window, and the air was as tense as the audience before an execution. Novigrad – not the one on the surface, but the true Novigrad – was getting ready for something. 

“What am I supposed to do with the nutjob now?” roared master Dijkstra’s voice behind the door, which was as thick as the city gates. Even though I knew the door was cushioned from the other side for the very reason so as to nothing could be heard from behind them, it could not stand against the penetrating voice of master Dijkstra. 

“Is your head completely empty?” The door shook again, when master Dijkstra responded to someone, probably one of his trade partners, as he called his closest friends. “The idiot told me precisely what he intended to do with him!”

I was sitting on a wooden bench as silent as always, cross-legged and with my back leaning against the cold wall. There were several other people in the room with me, most of them men, but they were quiet, either nervously pacing around, or twiddling their thumbs, gazing to the floor. Even Johnny made do without his typical obscene comments, so he settled only for a quiet phrase: “You look lovely today. Be careful, the master has ants in his pants today.” He was in love with me, even a blind person could see it. But even if I was interested in him, he wouldn’t have it easy with an elf in this city… No, rather not even think about it, I told myself again and again.

“What do you mean, let him do it? Did someone scramble your brains?” I heard from behind the door again, and it was evident that even the toughest thugs in the room were trembling. “What do you think is going to happen if I let him kidnap the fucking crown prince of Ofier?” continued Dijkstra in a rather one-sided conversation.  

“Gods, what good are you to me?” he roared finally, and then, almost unintelligibly, he added through the door: “Peter, fetch her. And the rest of you, clear off, I will deal with this myself.”

The door opened, and three of my master’s companions came out of the room. “Miss, you can go in, master Dijkstra is expecting you.” A small, unimpressive man with a round face and oily hair peeked from the door - Peter the accountant. 

I entered, took a deep bow and remained standing in the middle of a richly, albeit practically equipped office. It smelt of paper, wood and wax, but almost everything was overpowered by the stench of sweat of the previous visitors. 

“Mael, welcome,” Master Dijkstra greeted me, and took a deep, tired breath. He was a robust man, dressed elegantly as always in blue colours complemented with golden buttons and embroidery. “One tries to build something here, makes one compromise after another, and in the end, his plans are thwarted by… Did they inform you about what’s happening?” he paused.

Naturally, I had gathered information. If you listened in the right places, the city was full of it. “I know,” I nodded simply. 

“Those merchants have no clue what they caused,” the master shook his head. “They expose their goods like it’s no one's business, but they have no idea what kind of danger they are in.”

I nodded again. In fact, plenty of people didn’t know the risks of this city. Not until it was too late, at least, and they didn’t see their insides lying around on the pebblestones. 

“And Whoreson is not helping,” sighed my master. “I don’t know what his plans are, but it can’t be anything good. Hell’s bells, if it was anyone else, but this is the crown prince we’re talking about! I can’t even imagine what shit we would get ourselves into if anything happened to him.”

I could only agree with that, too. I remembered vividly how big an effort master Dijkstra had to make only for the lords of the underworld to meet, not to mention persuading them to form an alliance. He didn’t need any further compilations in these already troublesome times. 

“I’ll tell you what you’ll do, Mael,” he looked at me pensively and rested his back in his armchair. “You have to warn them, tell them something is up. I don’t know what it is, but it is going to happen very soon. As always, though, I need you to be extremely discrete. If Whoreson finds out I am going against him, all our work will go to shit.” 

“Of course, master,” I replied. “I fully understand. You know I won’t disappoint you.”

“I know, and that is exactly why I asked for you in the first place,” he twisted his face into something that could only be a hint of a smile. “Once you are done, report back to me.” 

So as always, I thought to myself. I bid my farewell with another deep bow and left to be yet another inconspicuous elven beggar, of which there are plenty in this city.

NO PAIN, NO GAIN

“I want his finger,” said the man they sent me to in a hoarse voice, and I immediately realised three things:

First - I should have never come here. I know, perhaps I should have realised it when they told me where exactly to go, or when they kept repeating the secret password, without which I allegedly stood no chance of getting there, or when I was being frisked at the entrance by two guys as big as gorillas, or when I realised what kind of a private company is in the casino at the moment… Fuck, I should have realised this way sooner! But since I’m already here, I doubt I can leave just like that. Fuck this shit!

Second, I realised I don’t have what it takes. I’m not built for this. I’m not muscular, or tall, or tough, I can’t even handle a sword properly. Fuck, I’m not even very smart! What the hell was I thinking, signing with Whoreson? If only I didn’t think with my dick and didn’t want to prove what a hotshot I am, perhaps I could have realised that if someone is called like this, working for him might not be the best decision.

And third – my mom was right, when she told me she didn’t care what I did, as long as I didn’t get involved with bad people. Well, mom, if that is what you wanted, you should have birthed me with some kind of brains.

Gods, I am so daft it hurts! I marched here like a nobleman, right up to the poker table, where even the youngest one of them has killed more people than I had hot dinners, and as a moron that I am, I said: “Sir Vlodimir, master Junior has a message for you. He says, ‘he who sows the storm, reaps the wind.”

If I wasn’t so stupid, I would know how ridiculous that sounds. Everyone was taken aback, everything stopped, the time seemed to freeze, and the room went quiet.

“What did you say?” growled the man in the middle and took his foot off the table. He wore a green doublet adorned with gold, and tall riding boots, and – apart from the last patches of hair above the forehead, he was bald. According to the description, this was Vlodimir. I couldn’t be mistaken.

“Repeat it,” he turned to me.

“H-he who sows the storm, r-reaps the wind,” I repeated the sentence I had learnt. The whole room was staring at me, and suddenly, I felt small and insignificant.

“I want his finger,” said Vlodimir in a hoarse voice, and stood up swiftly. The look on his face! At that moment, he didn’t seem human – he looked more like some kind of a demon. Someone grabbed me under my shoulders from behind. I couldn’t move. He held me in an iron grip and dragged me to the nearest table.

“Knife!” shouted Vlodimir and marched towards me like a pissed off bull. Someone handed him a knife immediately, and before he came to me, another arm – thick as a trunk – pressed my open palm onto the desk.

“How do you know about the sentence? Who the fuck are you spying here for?” Vlodimir shouted at me in his raspy voice, and I didn’t know what was happening.

“Whoreson! H-he told me to t-tell you this. I’m not spying for anyone. I-I was sent here by Whoreson,” I stuttered, desperately spurting out words like a youngster being in a brothel for the first time.

“You’re talking shit. Try again and mind your words, because what you say will determine whether you lose just your index finger, or all your fingers.” His head was so close to my face I could smell his bad breath. Everyone was looking at me. I was the carcass, and they were the vultures.

“I-I don’t know,” I tried to remember if Whoresone told me anything else, or if I said something wrong, but my mind was completely empty. “I was really sent here by Whoreson, you have to believe me. I’m not lying.”

“So all fingers,” nodded Vlodimir. The grip around my wrist tightened. The hand with the knife zoomed by my face, ready to cut flesh and crush bones, and ironically, the only thing I could think about at that moment, was completely and utterly stupid: My mom will definitely give me a thrashing after this…

I closed my eyes, felt tears on my cheeks and wet warmth in my crotch, and the only thing that escaped my mouth was, “You have to trust me…”

The knife hit the wood with a bang, and the room erupted in laughter. “We’re just playing with you,” shouted Vlodimir in laughter, wolfishly smiling from ear to ear. “So, master Junior needs help. I wanted to ask him how he’s doing after his old man went six feet under so suddenly, anyway.” He laughed raspily again, and the others joined him. I didn’t know what to say, so I think I just shivered a bit.

“Tell him that when you chop wood, chips fly, and also tell him I will drop by, because if this is what I think it is,” he smiled at me wickedly, “the boys and I will be glad to oblige.”

SAHIR THE RUNEWRIGHT

I hope I’ve got everything for master Rashid. I went over the list he gave me, anxiously and repeatedly. All the ingredients he wanted were so exotic! I’ve never heard of some of them, but the situation seemed to go out of control fast. Unusual solutions for unusual situations, I told myself. And what was more, master Rashid was allegedly something of a wizard - a runewright, they said - so who am I, an ordinary woman, to question what he needs?

Oh, they couldn’t have known what kind of a wolf den they came to, I sighed and rushed through the streets back to the market. I held my skirts by my knees, my feet flashing over the cobblestones, I was almost running. They didn’t know what they’re in for, because they really couldn’t have known. Novigrad was like a pub game - as long as you watched it from a distance, you could think it’s fun, perhaps even innocent. But as soon as you joined the table, you slowly realised what kind of a web you got yourself tangled into. There were so many unwritten rules, and the regulars knew them like the palm of their hands. The game was suddenly so much harder than it had seemed at the beginning, and you quickly found out that you, as a newcomer, stood no chance of winning… No, no, only winners sat at this table - or victims - and the locals knew very well to mind their own business, and that if those around the table started fighting, you should only hope you’re sitting far enough from them. But now, the whole city knew a brawl was coming, and those poor souls, the good merchants, were the only ones to have no idea what’s in store for them.

Enough, Beth, I told myself. Let the locals do what they want, I don’t care, but those nice merchants do not deserve this. They were so polite! They must have known that I cannot afford any of their goods, but they still didn’t chase me away. They smiled, not like the local hyenas who only live for money. One of them even spoke to me for a while, his name was Ardeth, and he was very courteous. And pleasant… Later, when I heard someone had poisoned their drinking water, I immediately went there to ask if they needed any help. And they did! By then, they knew they were not safe here.

“I think I’ve got everything, master Rashid,” I shouted at him from a distance. He was sitting in front of one of his tents, wearing rich, but unusual clothing for local conditions, and even though each item of his dress was a different colour, I thought everything was immaculate together and thought-out in detail. His head was wrapped in a long stripe of cloth, he was very tanned and had an elegantly groomed full beard. “Only, I’m not entirely sure about that Zerrikanian oil. I found it only in the third shop, would you believe that? I had to look for it in half the city.”

“You are a veritable treasure, Elisabeth,” he smiled broadly and quickly checked if I really brought everything he needed. It was busy between the tents, everyone was carrying or preparing something. Poor souls, I sighed again. What kind of a villain do you have to be to poison someone’s water like this? Fortunately, the merchants were ready and only a few of them were harmed. Still, I couldn’t believe it.

“Everything is here, you are a miracle worker. Thank you.” Master Rashid looked me in the eyes, and I knew he was sincere.

“You are very welcome. Glad to help. It’s not right to treat guests like this!”

“Yes, that is true,” nodded the merchant. “I admit we also expected something else.”

“I’m so sorry. Novigrad can have its moments, you know?” I tried to defend my city. “But the people here are… greedy.” Master Rashid kept nodding in agreement and compassion, arranging the ingredients on the table in front of him, one right next to each other, and taking out various tools from his travel bag: chisels of various sizes, hammers and needles; There were swords, sabres and knives of all kinds laid out on the ground. It was like watching a ritual of sorts. Ah, master Rashid is a perfectionist, I smiled, watching as he aligned one of the chisels parallelly to another one.

“I’m sorry if I’m nosey, but what happens next?” I asked when he finished his preparations.

“Now we will get to the conjuring,” he raised his eyes to me and smiled roguishly. “I thought you might want to see it, dear Elisabeth.”

“Oh, and won’t that be dangerous?” I couldn’t hold my excitement in check.

“You need not fear. I may be Sahir - a wizard, but craft is my magic,” he reassured me. “Unfortunately, we have to be prepared for anything they throw at us, and I fear this day will not end without a fight. I have to prepare weapons for our fighters,” he explained, his smile replaced with sadness in his face for a little while.

“Of course, master Rashid, do what you must,” I said, my heart beating in my chest like the bells for the Sunday sermon. So far, this day was perhaps the best day of my life. I was determined to stay as long as he would have me. “I would like to watch very much, perhaps I could help you if I knew how,” I offered.

SOME ARE MORE EQUAL

I don’t attend executions anymore. It’s always the same - never-ending speeches about what the person in question did and what an abhorrent affront to our beloved laws it is. For a time, I enjoyed throwing rotten vegetables; sometimes I let it ferment for weeks on end, but even this stops being fun eventually. The execution itself is interesting perhaps once, twice tops. It’s all in the voice, you see - you have to have a talent for squealing properly when they burn you or screaming in front of a guillotine, and honestly, only one in like five people has that. In the other cases, it’s more annoying than entertaining. All in all, executions can get boring after a time.

But this time, it was no ordinary rogue, thief, or a sorceress. This time, it was bigger. Everyone knew about the Ofieri caravan and what had happened at the market. I heard that the whole caravan was not merchant at all; rather, it was full of envoys and noblemen on their way to Tretogor. But that’s not all. It is also rumoured that one of the so-called merchants was the Ofieri king himself in disguise. A king! Can you believe it? I think I’m not overreaching when I say that they were on their way to see Radovid in order to arrange an important agreement or treaty. He would certainly benefit from such an alliance.

However, not everyone had to share his opinion, did they? I was actually entirely sure about that. Someone did not like the idea of the new alliance, and so they sent hired assassins to kill the Ofieri. It is a classic story, after all - the friend of my enemy is my enemy.

Ha! Finally, something is happening…

The captain of the guard climbed on the wooden, old and often used stage in the middle of the Hierarch Square, followed by two guards in heavy armour with a bound man between them. The Hierarch’s clerk had been standing on the stage for a while now, checking the gallows. The square was full of people, and more guards stood under the stage, making space around it. Countless curious faces were watching even from the windows of the surrounding buildings. I looked around and confirmed once again that this execution had the potential to be one of the more entertaining.

“Welcome, esteemed residents of the city of Novigrad,” shouted the clerk, and even though his voice was squeaky as if he was in his teens, the crowd went silent gradually. “We gathered here today to witness justice…”

They can never do without speeches, I rolled my eyes and let out a bored sigh. In the meantime, the monologue on the stage continued. Given how many times I had heard it so far, I could have given it myself.

“...a covenant between men, and between a man and god,” the clerk kept reciting his trained speech in his squeaky voice. “Know that none shall escape the justice of worldly laws, let alone the laws of god,” he concluded finally and cleared his throat.

“Step forth, Vlodimir von Everec,” the clerk called upon the man, and only then did I notice what a wreck he was. His clothes were soaked in blood in several places, he had his arms, hip and left leg wrapped in provisory bandages of white cloth, but the blood was seeping through them too. Only a last couple of flocks above his forehead remained of his hair; other than that, he was bald. Even though his condition was woeful, I couldn’t help but feel that he would gut the clerk like a pig if not for the shackles.

“You have been found guilty of smuggling weapons on the premises of the market, planning multiple murders, attempting thereof, and finally of wilfully murdering two merchants,” continued the clerk. “For these serious transgressions against the law, your sentence is final and precludes any defence.”

I looked at the man, Vlodimir, once more, looking forward to his reaction. But there was none. His expression was still calm, almost disinterested. I came to hear screams and pleas! What is happening here? That guy cannot accept his death just like that, without insults, crying, anything…

“In the name of His Holiness, Cyrus Engelkind Hemmelfart, venerable governor of the Free City of Novigrad and the Hierarch of the Church of Eternal Fire…” the clerk raised his voice and turned to von Everec.

“...you have been sentenced to die by hang–” He couldn’t finish, because another clerk, a shorter man with a round face and oily hair, ran on the stage and whispered something in his ear.

“What?” he asked silently. But the square was completely silent, so perhaps everyone could hear his question. “Are you serious?”

The second clerk nodded and stood beside him. The first one kept looking at him incredulously for a while, but in the end, he shrugged and turned to the convict.

“...to five lashes of whip!” the clerk corrected himself, and I saw the horrifying wolfish smile on the convict’s face.

Having connections pays off in this city… I spat on the ground in disgust and disappointment.

EPILOGUE

Novigrad is a nasty beast, let me tell you. Every time I dare to venture there, something happens. And this time was no different.

This time, a caravan of merchants from the distant Ofier arrived in the city. The carriages shimmered from miles away, the merchandise jingled and rattled with such ferocity that even the birds in Tretogor flew away in fear off the rooftops, and the pebblestones were covered in shit from the camels and horses almost as Mahakam streets in the morning after a beer festival. But for the common folk, it was a feast. Thanks to the caravan, the city escaped the beaten track. Instead of the mundane everyday gray, the market shone with hoards of golden and silver trinkets, colorful fabrics, and it was full of music and dance… And the city had something to talk about again.

And yet, among the shiny trinkets and ordinary jewelry, there was one pearl, and it did not last even a day before the ones who truly dictated the rhythm around here - the lords of the local underworld – had discovered it.

That is, not everyone in the caravan was truly who they claimed to be. Although the deception was quite successful, it could never stand a chance against the local, experienced spies, thieves, and murderers. The chaos was actually quite entertaining to watch – the utter bedlam when the lords of the underworld discovered that the merchants were but a masked escort of no one else than the crown prince of Ofier - the firstborn son of Malik Nibras - prince Sirvat.

The first of the lords - Whoreson Junior - saw a chance for profit in the prince. He was always more inclined towards quick investments of the bloodier kind than the long-term and clean ones, and this situation smelled of money and gold as… well as money and gold usually smell. No, he told himself, this is an opportunity to get filthy rich, and he did not intend to miss it. He decided to kidnap the prince and sell it back to his daddy for a hefty ransom.

Dijkstra, the second of the local lords, immediately figured out how dangerous this game was. If anything was to happen to the prince, the city would inevitably face the king’s wrath, and considering how rich Ofier was, Novigrad wouldn’t stand a chance, even if it sold its own city walls. On the other hand, Dijkstra realized (as Dijkstra was cunning and well versed in trade and state affairs) it could be an opportunity. You see, via the prince, Novigrad could establish new relations with Ofier, be it either trade or political, and these connections would mean a full city treasury as well as his own pockets.

But, come the next morning, the two did not agree on their next approach. Whoreson was stubborn and Dijkstra too smart to try and push Whoreson further. Dijkstra needed to do something immediately, otherwise a disaster was forthcoming. Thus, he called for one of his messengers and sent her to warn the caravan. Although Dijkstra did not know what Whoreson intended, he had to prepare prince Sirvat for everything.

It was only because of this that the Ofieri merchants were alert, when Whoresone’s hired murderer poisoned the caravan’s water. The Ofieri were also already trying to understand local relations and possible dangers.

Of course, Whoreson did not do all this dirty work by himself, he always had other people for it. And this time, he was lucky as well. His old friend, a man of similar nature and desires as Whoreson - Vlodimir von Everec –, arrived in the city with his band of mercenaries called the Boars. Well, who better could kidnap prince Sirvat than Vlodimir? And so Whoreson and Vlodimir met, discussed everything, drank a bit, and a plan was laid on the table. All it took was to smuggle weapons into the tavern by the marketplace. The Boars with Vlodimir should pick up the weapons in the evening and ambush the unsuspecting Ofieri (or at least that is what Whoreson expected).

However, Dijkstra anticipated something like this might happen. He had worked with Whoreson and the other lords of the underworld in a fragile union called the Syndicate for some time now, and he knew all the lords as the palm of his hands. And so he decided to contact the local Hierarch of the Church of the Eternal Fire, Engelkind Hemmelfart, who commanded not only the priests, but also the city watch, and convinced him to help the Ofieri. And so the city watch - experienced soldiers in heavy plate armor - was ready in the afternoon in the nearest alleys and passages for anything that could happen at the marketplace.

A beautiful evening arrived, maybe one of the last warm autumn evenings of the year. On such warm days, the marketplace of Novigrad would be full of music, drinking and dance. People flew through the streets, merchants closed their stools to join the crowd, and even the Ofieri caravan was preparing. Although for another reason.

Sahir the runewright was enchanting the last weapons for his brothers, herbalists were preparing healing potions, merchants were packing their goods as if they were about to leave Novigrad still that day, and all of that happened only because prince Sirvat desired to personally join the celebration. The prince alone, among so many people, in an unfamiliar place - everybody was worried. The caravan knew only that something was brewing. The prince himself surely knew it as well, but something (or someone) still drew him into the festivities… The Ofieri were armed to their teeth, prince’s spies squeezed through the crowd ahead of him, and any vantage point was surely occupied by his servants, closely watching everything and everyone beneath them. They were ready. Or as ready as they could get in one afternoon.

… However, when a masked man with a dagger in his hand, ready to stab the first Ofieri he encountered, jumped out of the crowd on the prince’s left, all the Ofieri froze in surprise for a heartbeat. Despite that, the head of the prince’s guard unsheathed his saber almost immediately. As if he slashed through the initial shock, everybody started to shout orders and cut through more and more incoming attackers. They were everywhere - left and right. They looked like ordinary people, or were dressed in black as the night itself. Some were screaming horribly. Swords clattered, knives stabbed, blood splashed, men fell…

And when the last of them fell and the city watch finally arrived with the sound of clanking plates, the Ofieri looked at each other exhaustedly, but they knew that this trial was over. Two of their brothers died, many were hurt, but the prince was safe and without a scratch.

After that, I’ve heard a few tales about wild southerners and especially their tireless captain. Or about the hired murderers. People said that if the beast called Novigrad shredded everything that got close to it, it broke its teeth on this morsel.