'Yes, yes!' the fat priest joined in. 'Come to your senses, you Dinners, while there is still time, because the anger and vengeance of the gods hangs over you! Remember Ithlin's oracle, the prophetic words describing the punishment of the gods reserved for a tribe poisoned by crime! "The Time of Contempt will come, when the tree will lose its leaves, the bud will wither, the fruit will rot, the seed turn bitter and the river valleys will run with ice instead of water. The White Chill will come, and after it the White Light, and the world will perish beneath blizzards." Thus spoke Seeress Ithlin! And before this comes to pass there will be visible signs, plagues will ravish the earth – Remember! – the Nilfgaard are our punishment from the gods! They are the whip with which the Immortals will lash you sinners, so that you may-'

'Shut up, you sanctimonious old man!' roared Sheldon Skaggs, stamping his heavy boots. 'Your superstitious rot make me sick! My guts are churning-'

'Careful, Sheldon.' The tall elf cut him short with a smile. 'Don't mock another's religion. It is not pleasant, polite or… safe.'

'I'm not mocking anything,' protested the dwarf. 'I don't doubt the existence of the gods, but it annoys me when someone drags them into earthly matters and tries to pull the wool over my eyes using the prophecies of some crazy elf. The Nilfgaardians are the instrument of the gods? Rubbish! Search back through your memories to the past, to the days of Dezmod, Radowid and Sambuk, to the days of Abrad, the Old Oak! You may not remember them, because your lives are so very short – you're like MayfIies but I remember, and I'll tell you what it was like in these lands just after you climbed from your boats on the Yaruga Estuary and the Pontar Delta onto the beach.