Ведьмак: Кровь эльфов

           InthemiddleofFebruary,thesnowdisappeared,whiskedawaybyawarmwindblowingfromthesouth,fromthepass.

           Whateverwashappeningintheworld,thewitchersdidnotwanttoknow.

           Intheevenings,consistentlyanddeterminedly,Trissguidedthelongconversationsheldinthedarkhall,litonlybytheburstsofflamesinthegreathearth,towardspolitics.Thewitchers’reactionswerealwaysthesame.Geralt,ahandonhisforehead,didnotsayaword.Vesemirnodded,fromtimetotimethrowingincommentswhichamountedtolittlemorethanthat"inhisday"everythinghadbeenbetter,morelogical,morehonestandhealthier.Eskelpretendedtobepolite,andneithersmilednormadeeyecontact,andevenmanaged,veryoccasionally,tobeinterestedinsomeissueorquestionoflittleimportance.Coënyawnedopenlyandlookedattheceiling,andLambertdidnothingtohidehisdisdain.

           Theydidnotwanttoknowanything,theycarednothingfordilemmaswhichdrovesleepfromkings,wizards,rulersandleaders,orfortheproblemswhichmadecouncils,circlesandgatheringstrembleandbuzz.Forthem,nothingexistedbeyondthepassesdrowninginsnoworbeyondtheGwenllechrivercarryingice-floatsinitsleadencurrent.Forthem,onlyKaerMorhenexisted,lostandlonelyamongstthesavagemountains.

           ThateveningTrisswasirritableandrestless–perhapsitwasthewindhowlingalongthegreatcastle’swalls.Andthateveningtheywerealloddlyexcited–thewitchers,apartfromGeralt,wereunusuallytalkative.