Something Wild (Child of the Winter Moon Book 1)

23: Novigrad

Geralt pushed open the gate to Triss's townhouse, to see things scattered across her front garden and two men going through them.

"Sorceress," one said. "It's like a witch with muscle. Casts a spell and all's gone in a flash."

"Well, she was in a rush. Musta left something."

"Oh, lovely," Juray said, loud enough to catch the looters' attention. "Looters."

"Hey, sod off!" the first one said. "We're lootin' here."

"Really? Thought you were the moving company."

"Want you gone by the time I count to three," Geralt all but growled. "One..."

"Hear that?" The second one asked.

"Two..."

"Thinks he can scare us off."

"I suggest hauling ass before he gets to three," Juray said.

"We ain't going nowhere."

She shrugged. "Your funeral."

"Three."

Geralt threw the first punch and the garden became a free-for-all. The two Witchers easily subduing the looters, while the looters hadn't been able to land a single blow.

"No more!" The two men were bloodied and bruised.

"Where's the sorceress who lived here?"

"Most likely hiding in a rat trap with the others."

"Who's she hiding from?"

"Temple Guard's been crackin' down. All mages are fair game."

"They round them up like rats."

"Someone's gotta know more," Geralt said.

"I'd look for her in the Putrid Grove."

"Lovely name," Juray commented.

"A hive of scum and freakery, if there ever was one. No decent folk show their hides there."

"That why you think I should look for my friend there?"

"I meant no offense."

"Mhm," Juray said. "Where is it?"

"I wouldn't know. Rumor has it it's a place for freaks and oddities."

"You two'd fit in well there."

"Maybe," Geralt said. "Thing is, gotta know how to get there."

"They say you gotta get there through the sewers, but you gotta enter them outside of town. Few know where exactly, though."

"Ask a beggar. Or spot yourself a thief, follow him... Beggars and thieves gotta pay tribute to the King of Beggars. Word is they do it in the Grove."

"Mean to say the local beggars have a king? Crown, scepter and all that?"

Juray snorted a laugh, imagining that.

"Wouldn't scoff, mate. King of Beggars, it's a moniker, yeah, for a man who everyone in Novigrad respects deeply."

"And watch yourself. Menge himself don't even go to the Grove."