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- Анджей Сапковский
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"
This
one
,
"
the
troubadour
stood
over
the
reeking
man
,
"
probably
still
lives
.
"
"
I
doubt
it
,
"
said
Yennefer
indifferently
.
"
I
severed
his
windpipe
and
carotid
artery
.
There
might
still
be
a
little
murmur
in
him
but
not
for
long
.
"
Dandilion
shuddered
.
"
You
slashed
his
throat
?
"
"
If
,
out
of
inborn
caution
,
I
had
n't
sent
an
illusion
in
first
,
I
would
be
the
one
lying
there
now
.
Let
's
look
at
the
other
one
...
Bloody
hell
.
Such
a
sturdy
fellow
and
he
still
could
n't
take
it
.
Pity
,
pity
--
"
"
He
's
dead
,
too
?
"
"
He
could
n't
take
the
shock
.
Hmm
...
I
fried
him
a
little
too
hard
...
See
,
even
his
teeth
are
charred
--
What
's
the
matter
with
you
,
Dandilion
?
Are
you
going
to
be
sick
?
"
"
I
am
,
"
the
poet
replied
indistinctly
,
bending
over
and
leaning
his
forehead
against
the
pigsty
wall
.
"
That
's
everything
?
"
The
enchantress
put
her
tumbler
down
and
reached
for
the
skewer
of
roast
chickens
.
"
You
have
n't
lied
about
anything
?
Have
n't
forgotten
anything
?
"
"
Nothing
.
Apart
from
'
thank
you
'
.
Thank
you
,
Yennefer
.
"
