"Master Jaskier? Can you tell me what's the witcher's daemon is?"
Jaskier froze. His song's last note was too sharp, nearly false. Suddenly worried, he looked for Geralt. The witcher was seated on the other end of the inn's common room. He stared alternately at the wall and his vodka, making a tremendous effort to ignore Jaskier's singing of his feats. Witchers had a superior hearing, Jaskier learned that the hard way. But with the noise the drinkers made, he may not have heard the little girl's question. He hoped so. Some subjects made Geralt flee and close himself for days. The daemon topic was first on the list.
The bard turned his attention back to the little girl. Her eyes were full of innocent curiosity. Snot was slowly coming out of her nostril, and mud decorated her dress, but she had listened to his songs more closely than the village grown-ups. Jaskier hadn't missed the village's strange atmosphere when they arrived. His songs should have made people react with more enthusiasm. They just listened and looked at Geralt like they were planning something. But did they want to kill him or hire him? Jaskier couldn't tell.
"The witcher's daemon?" he repeated, to give himself time to think.
On his shoulder, Geis ruffled her feathers to hide his embarrassment. The girl nodded. Her daemon had taken the form of a skinny, dirty cat and curled around her foot. He seemed much more contrite than she about the subject. Hardly surprising, given the circumstances. It was a disturbing subject for humans, but it made the daemons shake with fear. Geis had taken a very long time to stop showing her fear in front of Geralt.
"I watched him all the time since he came, and I never saw his daemon," the girl said, without realizing she was walking in very dangerous waters. "Is he like a monster, with no daemon at all? Astrid says witchers are monsters and your songs are all lies."
Jaskier panicked.
"Of course, Geralt has a daemon. Your Astrid is wrong. All witchers have daemons, just like everyone else. But they need to stay hidden."
"For what?"
"So they can surprise the monster, of course," Geis added. "If they hid, the monster doesn't know what to expect. They think they've won and wham! The daemon arrives to help his witcher and the monsters are defeated. Witcher daemons are very brave, you know? The bravest in the world. But it's very tiring to protect a witcher, so when he's safe the daemon sleep. They sleep like cats, one eye open to watch them from afar."
The little girl nodded with a grown-up seriousness.
"I also do that sometimes with Miodek. He takes a fly or a lizard form and hides. Then, when the butcher's children bother me, wham! He becomes a tiger and scares them away."
"You're a bright girl," Geis agreed.
"Yes, I am. And tonight, I won't wet the bed because I'm afraid the witcher will eat me to steal my daemon. Not like Astrid, who only says things to frighten me."
She slipped away before Jaskier could ask if she knew what the village wanted with Geralt. The inn's client shouted to ask for another song, shouting the titles they wanted to hear. Jaskier shouted back he needed a drink and jumped off the stage. The conversation had dried up his throat. He needed a drink. Cursed be little girls' curiosity! Of course, it had nothing to do with him asking himself the same question a thousand times. Obviously.
The innkeeper served him a drink, blushed and asked for her favourite song. Jaskier promised to sing it first and smile. He hadn't listened to what she said, but Geis was better than him with that. She always knew what song people wanted and which pieces of his repertoire would please his audience.
"I suppose someone had to ask that question," Geis muttered.
"I didn't do too badly, don't you think?" Jaskier asked. He put down his empty mug. "And you did very well."
The mockingbird left his shoulder to land on the counter. She cocked her head to the side to look behind Jaskier.
"I don't know. Your Geralt is gone."
Jaskier spun around so quickly that he almost knocked over his drink.
"When did he leave? Have you seen it?"
"No. The girl distracted us both. But he didn't go upstairs to get his things. We would have seen him. You, especially. You cannot stop looking at his ass when it's in sight."
"I do not!"
"Not when you're singing because you love being the centre of attention, but when you're not, you look at him like an enamoured virgin."
Mischievous bird. Jaskier loved her.
She always knew how to comfort her. He finished his drink and took his lute. His heart was still beating too fast, but he still felt better. Nevertheless, he didn't have time to dwell on Geralt's disappearance right now. People were going to boo him if he didn't hurry back on stage, and he hated to disappoint his public, even an apathetic one. Better not. The atmosphere was still tense. Two hours before, these people looked happy to see a bard, and even a witcher, which was unusual, but the air was heavy. Very heavy.
Geralt et Jaskier had seen the call for help placarded on a board, a few villages down to the south, but it contained little information, apart from the reward's amount. These people wanted a witcher, and they were nervous. A terrible combination. The music distracted them for a few hours, but they were eager for Geralt to get to work. Geralt wasn't the only man who disappeared. They must have gone elsewhere to talk about the contract.
Feeling a bit better about that disappearance, Jaskier climbed on the stage. People around it looked angry he took so long to drink. He'd better sing, or someone would get a knife. There must have been many corpses for them to get so angry. But for now, the only thing Jaskier could do was placate them enough for them to pay Geralt the promised sum.
"Let's get to work," he whispered.
Geis glided around him as he sat on the stool, showing off her blue feathers to the audience, and then landed on his shoulder.
"I looked outside. It looked like Roach is still in the courtyard, and Geralt is talking with some peasants. Looks like he's asking them about the monster. Do you think he heard us?"
She was just as anxious as he was, even if she liked to pretend otherwise. Jaskier didn't answer. He sang Her sweet kiss, then some other of his successes. Geis hated when he ignored her, but she agreed to join him with her trills, the only sound in the word which could match his own voice. Soon, people clapped their hands and show some enthusiasm.
Geralt did not return.
One or two hours later, Jaskier began to tire and the public to leave. Night had fallen hours before when Jaskier finally could sit with some bacon and cheese. Geis moved from his shoulder to the back of the chair. She pecked at his ear to annoy him.
"Do you want me to drown you in vodka?" Jaskier threatened her.
"I think he heard us and he's angry with us."
Jaskier sighed. He did not want to talk about it, but Geis wasn't his daemon for nothing. Like him, she never let go. It was unbearable sometimes, but she said he couldn't complain since he acted exactly the same way with Geralt.
"What was I supposed to say?" he asked her. "He never deigned to tell me the truth of the matter."
A mocking trill came out of Geis' throat.
"It could have been worse, I suppose. He could have reacted worse."
"And you really never saw him? His daemon?"
"Never, and you know I have good eyes. It's not for nothing Djikista wanted us to spy for him. He wanted me more than you."
Jaskier nodded and continued his meal in silence. Geralt daemon's problem had tormented him since their first meeting. Not because that absence made him doubt Geralt's humanity, of course. There was too much pain in Geralt's eyes, too much determination to help even those who spat in his face. He was absolutely, hopelessly human. Moreover, Jaskier had met many humans with a daemon who still behaved like monsters. The question still bothered him. Before Jaskier, no one would have thought of making a witcher the hero of songs. No one had looked into the subject of their daemons either. Jaskier was a pioneer, a man with a vision. No, people just spat and feared witchers without trying to find the truth.
Everyone had a daemon, even sorceresses and mages who could stay half a continent away from them, even elves with their colourful birds that made Jaskier die of envy, even dwarves with their moles and other underground creatures who helped them to see in the dark. Geralt had no daemon by his side. No one ever saw a witcher's daemon. Which made them monsters, by popular opinion.
Jaskier wanted to know. He needed to know. The story he improvised for the little girl was a pretty one, but utterly fake. Instinct told him the answer wasn't something as simple as a daemon that could stay away, like Yennefer's. He wanted so badly to ask, but never dare. The day he would, Geralt would leave him in the middle of nowhere. That was a fact. At least, Jaskier thought he would abandon him. Geis didn't.
Whatever the truth was, it was probably horrible. There would be no song about the witcher's daemon, even written by Jaskier. He loved Geralt too much for that, but the man would say Jaskier just wanted to write a new song. Jaskier could never convince him otherwise. Geralt's trust in him was really thin.
"We should go to bed," Geis said. "If he found details for his hunt, he'll want to leave early tomorrow."
He was going to be in one of his moods. Jaskier should be the first upstairs, for his own good. He should also forget the daemon subject and little girls who dared ask aloud questions that a sensible man dared not think about. It would be hard to fall asleep and he better look like he did the next day. If not, Geralt would use that excuse to say Jaskier he should stay at the inn and it wouldn't be a suggestion. Jaskier would not let himself be pushed aside as winter approached and they would soon have to say goodbye to each other until the spring. Not this time.
The next day, Jaskier immediately knew he had been right. Geralt woke up in an awful mood. He glared at Jaskier, at Geis, who said nothing to deserve it, at the innkeeper and at his plate, which he tried to destroy with his fork. Jaskier ate silently, ready to jump at the slightest signal. When Geralt stood up, he was ready. He dropped his plate and fork, grabbed his lute, and jumped to follow him. Geralt looked at him with annoyance, left the inn and mounted on Roach without a word. If Jaskier had been a little less quick, they have left behind him. Geralt didn't even look behind him to see if Jaskier followed.
It was a small village. They left it in uncomfortable silence. Beyond the fields that stretched nearly as far as the eye could see, Jaskier saw a forest to the east and high plateaus to the northeast. It was hard to tell in the winter, but the area looked quite prosperous. It was strange to see it so sparsely populated. Jaskier took note but asked no question before the village was too far away for Geralt to send him back.
"So, what are we fighting today? Vampire? Werewolf? Bruxa?"
Geralt hated when Jaskier said "us" because he was the only one to risk his life. But Jaskier risked his career if his latest composition wasn't a success. Sadly, the witcher did not give in to the provocation. He still walked ten paces ahead in furious silence. Jaskier wondered sometimes why he found him so attractive, but not even a poet like him could explain the inexplicable. Geis said his heart was a lost cause. Alas, she wasn't wrong.
"I'd like to see a griffin someday," his daemon said. "Oxenfurt Academy has a skeleton on display. They said there's no bigger flying beast, besides a dragon, of course. It would be nice to say we saw one flying above us."
Geralt seemed to take malicious pleasure in manoeuvring Roach to force Jaskier to walk into the mud puddles on the road. Jaskier refused to react to such pettiness and looked for Geis. She was flying around him, showing her feathers to the few working peasants in the fields. Usually, she preferred Geralt to forget her existence.
They talked about it. Geis understood Jaskier's love for Geralt, but it was hard for her to even look at him. For Jaskier, Geralt's daemon absence was destabilizing. For Geis, it was painful. Once, when Jaskier was drunk, she said looking at him made her want to run away and cry at the same time. So, even if she was usually chatty, she preferred to stay quiet and out of Geralt's sight. Although he preferred to feel her weight on his shoulder, Jaskier secretly approved. If Geralt didn't have a daemon, Jaskier didn't want to hurt him by constantly showing his.
So, if Geis was speaking today, it meant she was trying to tease the witcher and get a reaction out of him. They shared that same curiosity, which would be their downfall one day. Geralt didn't respond to her like he didn't respond to Jaskier, so she made larger circles and twirls around them, ostensibly to amuse some children on a farm's doorstep. When she tired, she landed between Roach's ears. The horse placidly let her do. Geralt said nothing and looked away, letting Roach find the way on her own.
The last farms gave way to more fields, then to hills and finally to the high plateaus they saw that morning. A steep, difficult road took them to the top. Once there, Geralt finally stopped, mostly to let Roach catch her breath. Jaskier sat on a stone and looked around. It could have been an idyllic place with its breathtaking view of the valley below, but it wasn't. Most of the trees were dead. The other were frail and sick. The wind was blowing continuously and nothing wanted to grow on the cracked ground.
The scenery did not change during the rest of the journey. It was mostly hills with threatening fir woods. Jaskier didn't regret coming, but he wished he had known it would take more than a day to find this unknown monster. He needed time to prepare for the idea of sleeping under the stars so late in the season.
Finally, they stopped. Geralt dismounted in the middle of a wood and turned his head around as if he tried to hear something Jaskier and Geis couldn't. The daemon, which spent half of the trip on Roach and the other on Jaskier's shoulder, flew in circles above them. She was scared. Some legends said that daemons sometimes sensed the proximity of monsters. Jaskier travelled with Geralt long enough to learn it was not just poetic licence. Geis felt things coming just before Jaskier's instinct could come in, but usually, it made no difference. A daemon couldn't compete with a witcher's senses.
Her behaviour annoyed Geralt even more than usual. He made a gesture to suggest her to get out of his way and his hand almost brushed her wings. Geralt and Jaskier froze. Shaking, Geis came to seek refuge in Jaskier's arms. Jaskier himself was close to doing the same. He forced himself to breathe normally. He loved Geralt, but the idea of someone touching his daemon without his explicit permission was still sickening.
Sometimes, Geralt's lack of a daemon made Jaskier's feelings for the man even more painful. It was one of those times.
When he finally dared to look in the witcher's direction, Geralt looked away, and hand clutching his sword.
"What a sordid place," Jaskier said. He refused to let the silence linger any longer. Or the discomfort.
"It is. Lot of werewolves around here."
At last, he talked. But Jaskier wasn't quite ready to declare himself victorious. Knowing Geralt, he thought speaking once was enough for an apology. Jaskier had to force him to talk again, or Geralt would think he could stay mute until the end of next week.
"Werewolves? That's not very exciting. Werecat, I don't say. Werefox would be a pleasant change. Are there any others? Weredeer, weretoad?"
Geralt snorted.
"You invented the last one."
"And not the others?"
"Weredeers were invented by a fool who couldn't recognize a fucking leshy. Stay here. It's not safe."
Another change of mood. Jaskier was used to it. He waited for Geralt to tie Roach to a tree, then followed him despite his orders. He couldn't stay. When he did, he was too afraid to find him dead. Geralt might be a witcher, but he didn't have a daemon to keep his back. He needed a second pair of eyes, and only Jaskier could do that.
"What's the story then? An ugly werewolf came to kill the prettiest girl around, so the village gathered their money for a valiant witcher to save all those pretty girls?"
Geralt motioned him to be quiet. He looked so serious, Jaskier obeyed. He listened to enough songs about werewolves. Jaskier had met none before, so the songs were his only source of information. They were quite scary. He was tempted to turn back, but couldn't abandon Geralt, so he still took great care to walk in Geralt's footsteps and make as little noise as possible. They walked like that for a while until they came to the edge of a small clearing. Geralt crouched down behind a tree. Jaskier followed suit to look in the clearing.
In its centre, he saw a small house. The area was grim, but Jaskier could imagine people had been happy there. The shutters were painted with bright red paint and little white flowers. Ivy climbed around the windows. The garden was overgrown with weeds, but it was clear it must have been the pride of the woman who lived here. The place had been uninhabited for some time, but someone came back often.
"She's dead, but he loved her and still can't say his farewell," Jaskier whispered, his heart sinking.
Geis sang and went to perch on the green fence.
"What makes you say that?," Geralt asked.
"The paint. Nobody lives here anymore, but it's in a pristine state. Someone comes back regularly to maintain it. Him, no doubt. She would have taken care of the weed. But didn't to say it's a werewolf land?"
"It is. These hills have stayed empty of human life since the Conjunction of Sphere, or nearly. Werewolves came, but the people in the valley made a deal with them. They do not call witchers, don't use or keep silver and in exchange, nothing descends into the valley, nor bears, nor werewolves."
"But they called you. The villagers."
"They did. One werewolf came down years ago. A young one, sure of himself. He wanted to see up close what the valley looked like. He came back with a wife."
"She came willingly?"
"She must have, since she went down from time to time to go to the market. People didn't like it, but they said nothing. Until she came down with a round belly. Her family decided they had been insulted long enough. They didn't dare to come up here, so they killed her. He hadn't transformed her, but they still killed her with stones and forks. It was three years ago."
Jaskier nearly cried. He had sung for these people. They applauded, and they paid for his drinks. Not everyone did that. Of course, he had sensed their anguish, their eagerness to get rid of the monster, but in fact, it was their monster. Their mistake.
"Poor woman. And poor man."
A werewolf in love was a man, not a monster. No wonder he came back to paint the little house he had built for her. Jaskier could imagine the empty cradle inside, also painted with small flowers.
"Since then, he's the one who kills them," Geralt continued. "One by one, every full moon. He came down two days ago. Captured one villager."
Jaskier looked at the cloudy sky. It was still a little too early to see the moon. He didn't remember how close to the full moon they were, but the night would fall in less than an hour.
"Stay there," Geralt said, pulling his silver sword out of its scabbard.
"Do you think he's in there?"
"He's killing for personal revenge. This is where she lived."
The witcher walked straight into the clearing. Jaskier and Geis watched him enter the house, close the door behind him, and waited. The sun descended toward the horizon. Jaskier's position was getting painful. He tapped a little tune on the nearby tree. An old habit when he was thinking.
"The door wasn't locked," Geis muttered.
"No."
"But you don't think that where he kills them."
"No. He repaints the shutters frequently. He still thinks of her. He will not stain the walls of the house he built for her with blood."
"Where, then? Not in the valley or Geralt wouldn't have led us here."
"I wonder... Did he get her body back, or did they deny him that, too?"
A hypothesis worth checking out. If Jaskier was right, he could brag in front of Geralt. His face when he realized Jaskier was smarter than him was priceless. It might be dangerous, but if he was right, Geralt would join him soon. He got up and walked around the clearing to go behind the house. There, he found a narrow, well-maintained path going through the forest. Jaskier glanced back. From the house, you couldn't miss the path. Geralt would soon be there.
He took the path, which wasn't very long anyway, and arrived in a second, smaller clearing. A grave had been dug there. No stone marked its location, but rose bushes had been planted all around it. There would be roses in the spring, but for now, it was a really sad place. Jaskier stared at the grave for a moment.
"No," he shook his head. "He wouldn't kill here."
"He's a monster, but these villagers were more monstrous," Geis said. "Where do you kill a monster?"
Jaskier didn't get enough time to answer her question. He heard a scream somewhere near, half pain, half horror. He dashed before he could think.
The forest was very thick. Geis had to fly low to avoid crashing into a tree or getting tangled up in a bush, but neither slowed down. Jaskier looked at the sky in anguish. Night had fallen, and he could see the moon above the clouds. He really wanted to believe it wasn't full, but it was. Jaskier was terrified, but he had to see where the scream was coming from. It could be the missing villager. It could be Geralt, and he couldn't let him die.
Suddenly, the full moon illuminated the scene in front of him. Jaskier fell to the ground when he saw the creature standing in the middle of the woods. He discovered the real terror, the primal panic, seeing the thing, already two meters high and in the middle of its transformation. Fortunately, it had his back to him. Jaskier clapped his hands over his mouth so he wouldn't hear his gasp. The worst part was the sound of the dislocating bones, breaking and put back together. Jaskier closed his eyes until the noise stopped. He feared what he would see, but he had to know.
The werewolf's face was grotesque and terrifying at the same time. It looked even worse than the Urcheon of Erlenwald. The beast hunched over two stout forms, tied up on the ground, and Jaskier sighed in relief. It wasn't Geralt, but it was the only good news. The news was that he was about to witness a murder and couldn't remember if werewolves had a good sense of hearing, smell, or both. There was a good chance he was going to die just after that poor man.
The thing lifted him with one clawed hand. The man had a glorious moustache. His bald head gleamed in the moonlight. He was just a poorly dressed farmer with a big farm dog daemon. Whatever those people did, he didn't deserve to die that way. Jaskier wrote about Geralt's exploits. He made sure never to dwell too long on the victims the witcher hadn't been able to save and he knew Geralt would be too late for this one. The dog was whimpering, cowering beside his human, squirming in its bonds. The farmer was crying, mumbling a prayer.
The beast smiled at him and opened its mouth, biting him savagely in the throat.
Blood spurted from the wound. The farmer screamed despite the gag stuck in his mouth. His body shook, then twisted and changed like the werewolf a few moments before. It was awful to see, but the worst, the worst was seeing what was happening to his daemon. The dog also contorted and bend as if he was trying to change along with her human. She cried out in horror. The sound was something between a human cry and animal terror. Her features blurred and bent even more, like she desperately tried to hold on to something. When the werewolf brutally dropped the man he'd transformed, the daemon disappeared. The cry seemed to continue for long seconds after her disappearance.
"We are even, you and me," the werewolf growled. "Go."
The farmer-turned-werewolf dared not to move. He was shaking, one hand trying to reach for his gone daemon. A growl from the werewolf made him jump to his feet and run. Not towards his village, where people would welcome him with stones, but toward the mountain where the other missing villagers must be hiding.
It was too much. Jaskier retched. His ears were ringing, but he felt Geis chirping anxiously next to him. They were in shock. Of course, they had already seen people die and their daemon disappear. It was a harsh world, after all. But no matter how badly the Human or Elf suffered, the daemon went peacefully with only a sigh.
Not like this.
He puked again, loudly. The beast turned to him.
Jaskier stumbled. His legs were shaking too much for him to stand. He could only wait for the beast, hugging Geis close to him. He was going to lose her. Before tonight, he knew monsters had no daemons, but he never wondered what happened to them. Now he knew.
The werewolf growled menacingly and licked his lips. Jaskier hoped he was hungry. Better to be eaten than to lose Geis and live on. And if he transformed, he hoped Geralt would kill him fast. Jaskier closed his eyes and hugged Geis tighter. He wouldn't let her go. He couldn't.
"Jaskier, move!"
He opened his eyes to see Geralt rushing toward the werewolf. Never had he seen such a terrible look on his face. The werewolf was dead, but he didn't know it yet. Jaskier tried to move, but he had no strength left and the werewolf decided to kill him off before he fought the witcher. He leapt toward Jaskier, but something slammed into him with the force of a bull, knocking him to the ground. It wasn't Geralt, Geralt was coming from the other direction. Jaskier couldn't explain what had happened. Maybe one of Geralt's signs?
The werewolf rolled over and got up to greet Geralt with his claws. The witcher growled when they ripped through his armor. He turned around to counterattack, ready to slice the monster in half at the first opportunity. The beast jumped to unbalance him. Both of them fell to the ground.
Usually, Jaskier would watch the fight closely. Seeing Geralt fight was always something to see. The words "lethal grace" had been invented for him and should only be employed for him, even if Jaskier hated cliches and would have them burned in a public place. Usually, Jaskier had to swallow back his love sighs. But right now, he could only curl into a ball, keeping Geis safe in his hands.
"You can let me go," she whispered. She was also shaking. "You will not lose me."
"I'll never let you go again."
She did not protest. They stayed there, relieved to feel each other's warmth, until they heard the werewolf's scream of agony. Only then he found enough courage to look. Geralt stood above them, covered in blood. He gave them a long, indecipherable look and turned away to wipe the blood off his sword.
"Did you see?" he asked.
"What he did to that poor man? It was monstrous. His daemon... That poor thing.."
He was aware he was close to hysteria. His teeth chattered despite himself in rhythm with his knee. If he wanted to reassure Geralt, he failed. The witcher closed his eyes for a moment, then held out a hand to Jaskier, not looking at him.
"He was going to..."
Geralt cut him off.
"I would have stopped him."
And if he wasn't quick enough, he would have avenged him. Jaskier kept that thought to himself. He sat up. All he wanted was a nice hot bath and never letting go of Geis again. Only one thing kept him from begging Geralt to take him back to the village.
"Should we run after that poor man?"
"No. We can't help him, not the night of his first transformation. The other werewolves in the area will take care of him at dawn. After that, it depends. I'll come back if he's dangerous. If he goes down to the valley. I told you, the werewolves here still respect the old pact."
It wasn't quite what Jaskier wanted to hear, but he had no strength left to protest. He gestured to Geralt he could walk, and they left, leaving behind the corpse of a monster Jaskier had pitied. Now he just wanted to spit on the corpse. He doubted he could ever sing about what had just happened.
But he knew he needed to if he didn't want to be haunted by that night for the rest of his life.
When they reach Roach, he was still shaking. Geralt had to help him into the saddle because he couldn't remember how to ride by himself. This is absurd, he thought, when Geralt took back the reins from his numb hands. He had been travelling with the witcher for years. He had seen much worse than that. Twice already he had come close to death. But today he understood what "a fate worse than death" meant.
"I'll spend the winter in Kaer Morhen."
Geralt was talking. There were howls in the distance. Wolves, or worse? Jaskier nodded mechanically. A good bath. A good bath was all he needed, somewhere far from monsters and dreadful forest, somewhere with a semblance of civilization and respect for what should be sacred.
"Oxenfurt isn't that far away from my road. I could take you there. And we would meet back there in the spring."
"Oxenfurt. Why not."
The hottest bath ever. And maybe a glass of alcohol, if he could swallow it because Jaskier felt bile rising in his throat. Geralt said nothing more. Jaskier neither.
Once at the inn, Geralt muttered he would take care of Roach later. Jaskier let him guide him to the common room. The sun was rising. He was exhausted and couldn't think of anything but his desire for hot water on his body. He didn't want to think of anything else. Geralt took care of everything. Jaskier listened absently as he paid for a second room and a bathtub. Only after he said their monstrous problem was over. Jaskier let himself fall on a bench and yawned until his jaw dropped. He should pull out his lute and sing Toss a coin to make sure these people paid Geralt the right price, but it was too soon or too late for that. Geralt took a purse and grew. He looked satisfied.
"I need to see to Roach. You can wait for your bath here or in my room."
The bench was more comfortable than a saddle. Jaskier tried to convey this idea to Geralt without opening his mouth, but he couldn't communicate in a growl like Geralt. The witcher gave him a suspicious look but slipped away, anyway.
He wasn't gone long. In silence, he escorted Jaskier upstairs. In other circumstances, it would have been amusing to see him so concerned about Jaskier, because he never was. He didn't dare to touch or speak to him, but he still was kind and sympathetic, two words people never associate with Geralt. But Jaskier just wanted to cry. Once in his room, he undressed mechanically and didn't wait for the witcher to leave before he get in his bath. He immersed himself up to his ears. Hot water. So good.
His head and legs were like cotton. The door closing behind Geralt was when he realised the witcher had been there with him.
Geis dipped a talon in the water, but quickly pulled it out and settled beside him. Jaskier was falling asleep. She wasn't any better.
"I regret the time when I could go with you under the water," Geis said.
"You didn't like it. You transformed into a cat and hissed when I sent drops of water in your direction."
"Maybe. But right now, I would like to be a frog. Or a carp."
"Liar. You always wanted to fly."
Geis spread her wings and admired the light reflection on her feathers.
"Not you?"
Jaskier immersed himself gully for a long moment to think in silence. Geis knew very well she'd disappointed him in many ways to see her staying a mockingbird. Having a daemon bird easily aroused suspicions and prejudices. Bird daemons weren't that common. He had also been disappointed to see her adopt such a plain look, except for her magnificent blue feathers. When he was a child, she always took the appearance of animals with beautiful patterns of colors. Tortoiseshell cats, peacocks, chameleons, butterflies... It had taken a long time for him to appreciate the importance of going unnoticed and showing off through his talent rather than appearance. Geralt rolled his eyes at the supposed extravagance of his outfits, but it was worse when Jaskier was fifteen.
He needed air. Jaskier rose to the surface and rested his head against the edge of the tub. The water did him good, but he could no longer divert his thoughts from their main object.
"What is the witcher's daemon?" he whispered, imitating the little girl's voice.
"Do not think about it."
"You think the same thing as me, don't you?"
"You don't want to think about it. Don't hurt yourself."
He couldn't think of anything else now that his mind was clear. Monsters had no daemons and the truth often comes out of children's mouths. Did witchers make monsters of their own, destroying each other daemons before they face the actual monsters outside? This would explain why they never talked about it. Jaskier would have nightmares about it for a long time. He already thought about it too often and there would be other children and other innocent questions. Maybe one day someone would ask it directly to Geralt. If he had lost his daemon like that werewolf, he didn't deserve to be reminded of it.
"Oxenfurt will do."
And he immersed himself again under the now cold water.