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"
Enough
!
"
roared
the
dwarf
leader
with
a
growl
in
his
throat
,
shaking
his
mighty
waist-length
,
red
beard
.
"
It
's
crap
--
all
these
princesses
,
sorceresses
,
destiny
,
love
and
women
's
fanciful
tales
.
If
you
'll
pardon
the
expression
,
great
poet
,
it
's
all
lies
,
just
a
poetic
invention
to
make
the
story
prettier
and
more
touching
.
But
of
the
deeds
of
war
--
the
massacre
and
plunder
of
Cintra
,
the
battles
of
Marnadal
and
Sodden
--
you
did
sing
that
mightily
,
Dandilion
!
There
's
no
regrets
in
parting
with
silver
for
such
a
song
,
a
joy
to
a
warrior
's
heart
!
And
I
,
Sheldon
Skaggs
,
declare
there
's
not
an
ounce
of
lies
in
what
you
say
--
and
I
can
tell
the
lies
from
the
truth
because
I
was
there
at
Sodden
.
I
stood
against
the
Nilfgaard
invaders
with
an
axe
in
my
hand
...
"
"
I
,
Donimir
of
Troy
,
"
shouted
the
thin
knight
with
three
lions
passant
blazoned
across
his
tunic
,
"
was
at
both
battles
of
Sodden
!
But
I
did
not
see
you
there
,
sir
dwarf
!
"
"
No
doubt
because
you
were
looking
after
the
supply
train
!
"
Sheldon
Skaggs
retorted
.
"
While
I
was
in
the
front
line
where
things
got
hot
!
"
"
Mind
your
tongue
,
beardy
!
"
said
Donimir
of
Troy
flushing
,
hitching
up
his
sword
belt
.
"
And
who
you
're
speaking
to
!
"
"
Have
a
care
yourself
!
"
The
dwarf
whacked
his
palm
against
the
axe
wedged
in
his
belt
,
turned
to
his
companions
and
grinned
.
"
Did
you
see
him
there
?
Frigging
knight
!
See
his
coat
of
arms
?
Ha
!
Three
lions
on
a
shield
?
Two
shitting
and
the
third
snarling
!
"
"
Peace
,
peace
!
"
A
grey-haired
druid
in
a
white
cloak
averted
trouble
with
a
sharp
,
authoritative
voice
.
"
This
is
not
fitting
,
gentlemen
!
Not
here
,
under
Bleobheris
'
crown
,
an
oak
older
than
all
the
disputes
and
quarrels
of
the
world
!
And
not
in
Poet
Dandilion
's
presence
,
from
whose
ballads
we
ought
to
learn
of
love
,
not
contention
.
"
"
Quite
so
!
"
a
short
,
fat
priest
with
a
face
glistening
with
sweat
seconded
the
druid
.
"
You
look
but
have
no
eyes
,
you
listen
but
have
deaf
ears
.
Because
divine
love
is
not
in
you
,
you
are
like
empty
barrels
--
"
"
Speaking
of
barrels
,
"
squeaked
a
long-nosed
gnome
from
his
cart
,
painted
with
a
sign
for
"
Iron
hardware
,
manufacture
and
sale
"
,
"
roll
another
out
,
guildsmen
!
Poet
Dandilion
's
throat
is
surely
dry
--
and
ours
too
,
from
all
these
emotions
!
"
