Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jaskier settled on the bed next to Ciri with his lute. She was snuggled down under the blankets with the stuffed dragon tucked in beside her. Autumn had settled in and they were back in Cintra where they'd stay until the first snowfall. She sniffed and before she could wipe her nose on her hand, Jaskier handed her a handkerchief. Ciri was just getting over a cold and had spent the last two days in bed.

“Tell me a story,” She said imperiously, the effect slightly spoiled by the nasal, congested sound of her voice.

“You'll need to be more specific,” he told her as the strummed his lute softly.

“Tell me about Geralt.”

Jaskier bit back a sigh. She asked for stories about him often and he struggled through them despite how much it hurt. It didn't feel as bad as it had earlier this summer when he'd been left behind again, but it was making it harder for him to move past the being rejected a second time.

“Alright. What kind of Geralt tale would you like to hear?”

“Something without monsters,” she said after a moment.

“He's a Witcher. Monsters are his business.”

“But you said he helps people.”

“People who have trouble with monsters,” he said.

She looked at him and crossed her arms. “What about the monsters with two legs?”

Jaskier looked down at her, his eyes narrowing. “You've been listening at keyholes again.”

“How am I supposed to rule people when I don't know what they're doing?” she said defensively, not bothering to deny it.

Jaskier sighed and played a soft melody, unsure of how to answer her. “Spying is a tricky business,” he said finally. “And it can be dangerous. It's also incredibly rude. Please don't listen at my door again. If you want to know something, just ask me.”

She faltered in the face of his earnest request. “Okay.” Hugging the dragon and sniffing again, she looked up at him imploringly. “But do you have any stories about Geralt helping people?”

“I believe I do,” he said as he picked up the pace on the strings, playing an accompaniment to the tale. “Several years ago a humble Bard traveled with a prickly Witcher to the city of Vizima. . . .”

Chapter Text

“Would you stop frowning?” Jaskier said as they passed through the northern gate of Vizima. If anything, Geralt's glower got darker.

“We should have gone around.”

“I am cold and I am tired. I want to sleep in a bed that's more than just a sack of thistles in someone's hayloft.”

“Which we could have found in Dorian.”

“Which is several hours' ride from here. It's getting dark already.”

“This area is safe enough. We could. . .”

Jaskier whirled around and curled his fingers under the edges of Geralt's chest plate and tried to pull him closer. All he ended up doing was dragging himself until he bumped into the other man's chest. But he wouldn't be deterred. Rising up on his toes so they were eye to eye, he glared at him.

“I. Want. To. Sleep. On. Linens,” Jaskier said, enunciating every word carefully. “I'm not going anywhere else. Got it?”

Geralt gave him a dry look before gripping his elbows and lifting him so he could pick him up and set him aside. Prying Jaskier's fingers off his armor and taking taking Roach's reigns again, he brushed past him.

“Fine,” Geralt rumbled.

Jaskier sputtered and followed him. “Fine? After hours of bitching, the best you can come up with is 'fine'? Let me tell you something, Geralt, I- hrmph!” Jaskier seethed behind the hand that was pressed firmly over his mouth while the other man bargained with a stable hand. When the boy led Roach away, Geralt removed his hand so he could speak. Jaskier griped and complained, at his wits end after days of traveling without anything decent to eat and very little sleep. An outbreak of root rot had hit the local farms, making produce and food supplies scarce despite it being almost time for the harvest.

“And another thing,” Jaskier said, picking up where he left off. “I don't take kindly to being manhandled without notice. I am not a piece of luggage,”

Geralt let out a long-suffering sigh “And yet, I seem to be traveling with an excess amount of baggage lately.” He headed for the nearest inn, seemingly without bothering to look around.

“Why this one? Did you even look around for the best price? Really Geralt you- erph!” Jaskier found himself spun around held tightly against the other man's chest with a hand clamped tightly over his mouth again. He gripped Geralt's wrist and tugged, but couldn't budge the other man's grip. He growled and bit him.

Passersby were giving them a wide berth, and a man in a guard's uniform approached, his expression darkening as he got closer.

“You there! What's going on here?” He put a hand on his sword threateningly.

Jaskier tugged Geralt's hand away from his mouth and looked at the guard with an expression of disinterested disdain. “Can I help you?” he asked primly as he leaned back into Geralt and put his other hand on his sword arm. The last thing they needed was to start a battle the moment they got into town. They'd been kicked out for less before.

The guard blinked, clearly confused. “Ah, it just looked like the mutant was-”

“Haven't you ever seen an argument before?” Jaskier asked with a dry look. “Go bother someone who actually needs your help.”

The man seemed to draw himself up now that his initial surprise had faded. “We've had a few disappearances as of late,” he said, his tone hard. “So we're looking into all strange occurrences. Watch yourself, lest you go missing as well.” With that, he turned and headed back the way he came.

“Well, really,” Jaskier huffed, doubly perturbed now. Geralt tightened his arm around Jaskier's shoulders briefly but he didn't try to silence him again.

“If I book us a room and feed you, will you calm down?” Geralt asked, clearly struggling to be patient with him. He sounded tired.

Jaskier slumped against him, trying not to wince as he thought about his behavior over the last couple of days. “Probably.” He huffed a sigh. “Sorry.”

Geralt turned him gently around around and steered him inside the inn. The main room was nearly full of customers and Jaskier brightened at the thought of performing and possibly getting a discount. And then he spotted the man with the tambourine who stood up and started to sing while another played the flute. Damn.

A portly man in a clean apron came over to greet them with a genuine smile. “Welcome to the Dove and Pheasant. I'm Pavel. What can I do for you this fine evening?” He either didn't notice the dark glowers from some of his patrons at Geralt's presence or he intentionally paid them no mind. It was hard to tell, but he met the golden gaze without flinching, so it was probably the latter.

“Do you have any rooms available, good sir?” Jaskier asked him with a smile.

“Of course. One bed or two?”

“Just the one,” Jaskier said with a wink.

Pavel grinned and stated a standard fee before accepting a few coins and handing over a key. “Second floor, third door on your right,” he said. “If you're interested in a meal, there's a roast on the fire.”

“How much?” Jaskier asked, feeling his mouth watering at the thought of meat for the first time all week.

Pavel leaned in close. “Never you mind, Master Bard. Consider it compensation for having to leave so quickly after your last stay in the city.”

“Ah.” Jaskier hadn't forgotten about last year, he was just hoping that his presence wouldn't be noticed. It was probably why Geralt had been so opposed to coming here.

“Lord Ginsborough isn't still angry, is he?” Jaskier asked cautiously.

“You'll have to ask his ex-wife since he left town this spring and decided to try his luck in Tretogor instead.” Pavel grinned. “Lass got some smarts and finally came to her senses. Kicked him out on his arse for his philandering.”

The small knot of worry that had taken residence in Jaskier's chest earlier that day loosened. His first visit to Vizima had netted him a performance at a lord's wedding and ended with said lord assuming that his bride's eyes were straying during the feast. It wasn't true, but he'd gotten jealous anyway and sent men to beat the tar out of Jaskier in a back alley. He'd escaped with only a few bruises, but he and Geralt had to leave the city quickly after that. It was ironic that the man was now out of favor due to his own wandering dick.

“A hot meal would be lovely,” Jaskier told him. “We'll be back down shortly.” He passed Pavel another couple coins before he pulled Geralt upstairs. The room was neat and tidy with a large bed and a small hearth. Jaskier set down his lute and sat on the bed. He poked at the mattress before flopping back with a sigh. The stuffing was clean with no puff of dust rising when he landed. Maybe he'd skip dinner.

Geralt came closer and stood close enough for their knees to touch. “You're going to pass up a roast? The bed will still be here after dinner.”

Jaskier reached up and held his hands out. “Carry me,” he said piteously.

The Witcher rolled his eyes and headed for the door. Jaskier chuckled and reluctantly got to his feet to follow him.

Downstairs, Pavel brought them full plates and mugs when they settled at a table in the corner.

“Are you here for the monster?” Pavel asked.

&*&*&

“Wait just a minute,” Ciri said, crossing her arms and glaring. “I said no monsters.”

Jaskier stilled the strings and regarded her calmly. “Do you want to hear this story or not?”

“Not if there's monsters.” She sniffed again.

“Has a monster shown up yet?”

“Well, no. But Pavel said there was a monster.” She looked at him stubbornly.

“Sometimes it's easy to blame unexplained things on monsters or some other scary thing that no one understands. But usually, it's something more mundane.”
“So no monsters.”

“No monsters. But everybody thought it was a monster at first, so it's going to come up again.” He looked at her with a raised brow. “May I continue?”

She gestured grandly. “You may,” she said.

Chuckling, Jaskier started playing again.

&*&*&

“Are you here for the monster?” Pavel asked.

“What monster?” Jaskier asked him with his mug halfway to his mouth.

“The monster that's making people disappear,” he said, his voice lowering. “They say it stalks the streets at night and catches any who are out on their own.”

“We're just passing through,” Geralt said as he bent over his plate. Jaskier glanced at him before turning to Pavel who seemed surprised. He wasn't the only one.

“Has anyone put out a contract?” Jaskier asked, always alert for an opportunity for Geralt to get paid for his work.

“Well, not that I've heard. But I'm sure the king will offer something. Or perhaps the Merchant's Guild. Disappearances are bad for business after all.”

“We'll look into it,” Jaskier assured him and tried not to wince as Geralt pinched his thigh under the table.

“Haven't seen a Witcher in town in an age. Here's hoping you can figure out what's going on.” Pavel nodded at them and headed back to the kitchen.

“You're awfully quick to offer my services lately.”

“And you've been reluctant to take contracts. Do you see the correlation between those two statements?” Jaskier pointed his fork at him. “No contracts, no money. No money, no beds or food or supplies. How did you ever survive on the road without me?”

Geralt turned to look at him, his glower so dark that the man at the next table scooched his chair a little farther away from them. But the Witcher turned back to his plate without saying anything. This probably wasn't the last of this conversation, but they were both tired and hungry and anything they said now would probably lead to another argument. Well. Jaskier would be arguing and Geralt would be glaring at him. Either way, it would be a waste of time and it would leave them both grumpy. They finished the meal quietly before retiring to their room.

Jaskier kicked off his boots and stripped out his clothes, letting them fall to the floor in a trail on the way to the bed before crawling under the blanket. Oh, this was so nice. After more than a week of sleeping on a bedroll on the ground, it was nice to have an actual mattress beneath him. Geralt started a fire and prepared to kneel next to the hearth.

“Don't pout,” Jaskier mumbled. “C'mere.”

There was a deep sigh from the other side of the room, but he heard the rustle of fabric as the other man got to his feet and pulled off his boots. The mattress shifted as he slid between the sheets and pulled Jaskier back against him. Jaskier sighed and pressed back into his chest. It was getting colder at night. They often slept close together but it was more utilitarian this time of year. He fell asleep with Geralt's nose buried in the hair at the nape of his neck.

*******

The next morning, they were greeted by an extremely agitated Pavel who was literally wringing his hands.

“Oh, Master Witcher, Sir,” he said with a worried look on his face.

“What's wrong?” Geralt asked him.

“It's my son, Dimitri. He didn't come home last night.”

“Speak to the City Guard.”

Pavel's lip curled. “Unless you have load of money or a title, they don't care what happens to you,” he said. The guard from the night before had been awfully interested in strangers for someone who only cared about rich people. But then again, he'd called Geralt a mutant, so it may have been more about that than Jaskier's social status. Pavel looked at them imploringly. “Please. He's my only son. I'll pay you.”

Geralt's lips thinned and for a moment, it didn't look like he was going to say anything. “Where was he going last night?” he asked finally.

“Oh, bless you,” Pavel said. “He went to see his friend in the Trade Quarter after dinner.”

“What was he doing out on his own when there's a monster on the loose?” Jaskier was constantly amazed at how brazen and clueless people could be.

“Oh, he thinks he's invincible,” Pavel huffed in exasperation. “You know how teenagers are.” He looked away, his eyes glistening. “He's all I have.”

“Where is this friend?” Geralt asked.

“He grew up with the butcher's son who lives down on Tenpenny Lane. They've been inseparable since they could walk. You should probably start there.”

“Is there any chance that he's just staying out late?” Jaskier asked him, trying to find a reasonable explanation to keep him calm.

“No. He never stays out so late without letting me know. Not after my Marta died. Something must have happened to him.”

“Alright,” Geralt said. “I'll let you know if I find anything.”

Jaskier followed him back up to their room where Geralt checked his gear and shrugged into his armor. Settling his sword belt in place, he headed for the door again.

“Stay here.”

Jaskier scoffed. “It's daylight and we're going to talk to a merchant, not wander into a scary swamp at night.” He checked his lute before tucking it under the bed out of sight. It was a little bulky to carry around in town, especially inside shops, and there was a good, sturdy lock on the door. He wandered back over to where Geralt was glowering at him. Reaching out, he lightly tapped Geralt's nose. “It'll be fine.”

“Famous last words,” Geralt grumbled before heading out.

Well at least he wasn't threatening to tie him to the bed again. Jaskier smirked. After a nearly two years of traveling together, he was getting better at maneuvering around the Witcher and his prickly moods. He didn't like it when Jaskier trailed after him, especially when he wasn't sure what he was dealing with. But then again, he didn't like Jaskier traveling when he knew exactly what he was dealing with. He tolerated the traveling, but the hunting was something he was still having trouble accepting. And not without good reason. Jaskier already had a handful of scars from monsters. And from humans. While he was able to heal most things, Witchering was not a safe profession and Jaskier often ended up in the line of fire.

Geralt wasn't above making Jaskier stay behind by force. He'd drugged him before when he tried to leave him behind in Ard Carraigh, and he actually had tied him to the bed once. They'd had an argument about hunting a griffon and Geralt had ended up binding and gagging him and leaving him on the bed at the inn all afternoon. He'd come back that night bloody and tired, loosening the knots just enough for him to get loose before meditating for the rest of the night. Jaskier didn't speak to him for three days.

“Cheer up,” Jaskier told him as he patted his shoulder. “Let's pretend this is our first visit to the city. We can start over from scratch and forget the unpleasantness from last summer.”

When Geralt headed straight through the common room without stopping, Jaskier paused and looked longingly at the mug of coffee a patron was drinking.

“We're not going to have breakfast first?” he asked, trying not to whine.

“You're the one who's been pushing me to take a contract,” Geralt grumbled.

“Yes, but wouldn't it be better to investigate after a meal?”

“Stay here then,” Geralt said as he headed outside.

“Oh, no. You're not ditching me that easily.” Jaskier hurried to catch up, only pausing long enough to snag the pastry Pavel sneakily passed him on the way out. He waved a quick thanks as he headed outside. Wandering around on an empty stomach was not at the top of his to-do list this morning. Geralt eyed the gooey baked dough that was covered in cinnamon and cream and just shook his head. He didn't have much of a sweet tooth and he wouldn't have accepted even if Jaskier had offered him some. Jaskier ignored him and ate the pastry, savoring every bite as they wandered the streets and headed south to the Trade Quarter.

Not all of the shops were open this early and some of them were just opening their doors while getting their wares ready for the day. But Tenpenny Lane was lined with shops that were busy as people bought supplies for the day.

“A butcher, a baker, and a candlestick maker. Huh.” Jaskier chuckled and licked the last bit of cinnamon cream off his thumb.

Geralt sighed and headed for the Butcher's shop. Right. It was going to be one of those days. Inside, there was a variety of fowl and small game hanging from a rack above the counter and the proprietor was cutting up a sheep on a large table on the other side of the room. Jaskier was suddenly regretting the pastry as he quickly glanced away from the large knife cutting away a layer of meat. A slender young man, maybe fourteen or fifteen years old was plucking a chicken at one of the back counters. He looked up when they entered before quickly turning his attention back to his task. The older man prepping the sheep set the knife aside and wiped his hands on the bloody apron around his waist.

“Help ya?” he asked. He looked at Jaskier's ochre doublet and trousers that had bright red and blue flowers embroidered on the cuffs and collar. And then he took in Geralt's armored appearance, his mouth thinning.

“I'm looking for Pavel's son, Dimitri,” Geralt said, cutting right to the chase. Jaskier couldn't fault him for skipping the pleasantries. The darkening expression on the other man's face was a bit less than helpful.

“Spoiled brat isn't here.” He turned back to the sheep carcass and picked up the knife again. “And he'd best not show his face here again,” he said as he hacked at the tendons holding a joint together with a solid thunk. The boy in the back hunched in on himself slowly and then flinched when the knife chunked down. Before Jaskier could say anything to him, he was hustled toward the door.

“Sorry to bother you,” Geralt said as he left the shop, prodding Jaskier ahead of him.

“What was all that about? We didn't even talk to his son yet.”

“If someone had come to talk to you in Lettenhove, would your father have let them speak to you?”

Jaskier opened his mouth and then closed it again. No. He wouldn't have. He followed Geralt down the street before circling around and ending up in a back alley behind the shops. It was darker here out of sight of the main street.

“So now what?”

“No we wait.” Geralt leaned against the wall and crossed his arms to wait. “Try not to be conspicuous.”

Jaskier looked down at his clothes and then back up at Geralt. “Sure.”

But they didn't have long to wait. Someone cleared their throat behind Jaskier and he turned to see the butcher's son standing there.

“Can you save Dimitri?”

“From what?” Geralt asked him, not bothering to make himself appear any less threatening.

The young man swallowed. “A horrible monster.”

Chapter Text

&*&*&

“You promise there's no monsters?” Ciri asked.

“Are you frightened?” Jaskier asked her as he softened the music.

“I'm not afraid of anything!” she declared, baring her teeth.

“So ferocious,” he murmured, chuckling lightly when she glared at him.

“Why did everybody keep saying it was a monster?”

“Like I said, people blame things they don't understand on monsters and the like. But in this case, the butcher's son had every reason to believe that his friend had been snatched away by a fearsome beast. . .”

&*&*&

“What kind of monster?” Geralt asked, eyeing the boy passively. But even relatively relaxed, Geralt was an imposing figure. The boy kept his distance.

“It's alright,” Jaskier told him gently. “We're here to help. Any information you can give us will help Geralt find your friend.”

“I. . I don't have any money,” the boy stammered.

“What's your name?” Jaskier asked.

“Bren.”

“Well, Bren, I'm Jaskier and this is Geralt. Don't worry about money. Just tell us what you can.”

Bren twisted his fine boned hands in the hem of his shirt. The first two joints of his left pinky were missing. “We was down by the river. Across from the Outskirts. We was just. . . hanging.” He bit his lip. “You won't tell my Pa we was there will you?”

“No.” Jaskier shook his head, feeling his heart clench at the fear in the young man's eyes. “Whatever you were doing down by the river is just between us. There's no reason for him to know.”

Bren sagged back against the wall. “We go there sometimes to get away from. . . stuff. We used ta hang out at the inn, but there's too many people. It's. . . a lot.”

“What happened to Dimitri?” Geralt asked.

Bren's eyes snapped up to Geralt nervously.

“It's okay,” Jaskier said calmly. “He just looks scary. He's actually sweet as a pussycat.”

Geralt gave him a dry look and Jaskier just grinned at him. Bren seemed a bit confused as he watched the two of them.

“You're not what I expected of a Witcher.” Bren swallowed. “Beggin', your pardon.”

“Tell us what you saw down by the river,” Geralt told him.

“It was big and dark. 'Cept for the eyes. They were glowing red. Like hot coals. It came out of the water.” His eyes welled up. “It took my Dima.”

“Did you tell anyone what happened?” Jaskier asked. He was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

“We're not supposed to be by the river.” Bren swiped a hand under his nose and sniffed. “My pa would. . . I couldn't tell him. An' he has friends in the guard. Couldn't tell them neither. They'd tell him.”

“Where did it happen?” Geralt rumbled quietly, his voice a little softer in the face of Bren's growing distress.

Bren sniffed again, visibly trying to calm himself. “Just east of the South Gate. You can see the steeple in the Outskirts from there.“

“Boy!”

Bren flinched when the butcher bellowed out into the street on the other side of the building. “I have to get back.”

“Will you be alright?” Jaskier hated to send him back there.

“I'll be fine. Just. . . find Dimitri. Please.” He hurried back the way he came and disappeared around the corner of the building.

“Shit,” Jaskier muttered. He rolled his shoulders where they'd started to tighten up. Geralt pushed away from the wall and reached out to smooth a hand up his back before settling his fingers on the base of Jaskier's neck and kneading lightly.

“Go back to the inn,” he murmured.

“No. I'm fine. It's just. . . I know what that kind of fear is like.” The man who had raised Jaskier had been a monster of the two legged variety. And while he'd never physically struck him because that would have damaged the goods, as it were, he'd used intimidation and control to keep Jaskier in line as he grew up. He'd chafed against the restrictions and eventually broken free. But not everyone was that lucky.

&*&*&

Jaskier paused as Ciri crawled up and hugged him tightly, her thin arms encircling his neck. “What's this?” he asked.

“I'm sorry,” she said and sniffed. He wasn't sure if it was the congestion or if she was getting upset.

“For what?”

“I'm sorry you dad was mean,” she whispered.

“It's okay.” Jaskier wrapped an arm around her and they sat together for a few minutes.

“I'm glad you got away,” she said quietly.

“Me too.”

When she pulled back, he tucked her back under the covers and swallowed the small lump in his throat. She curled her arms around the dragon again.

“Did Bren get his friend back?”

“Well, Geralt didn't have much to go on. There were still more questions he needed to ask and things he needed to investigate. . .”

&*&*&

“I still think you should go back to the inn,” Geralt grumbled as they headed toward the south gate.

“Why? So I can mope all day while I worry about you and Dimitri?” And get buried in memories of his own childhood that were oozing to the surface in the wake of Bren's fear. He bypassed a street hawker who was really insistent about trying to sell him a scarf. “What kind of monster has red eyes?”

“None that I'm aware of.”

“Okay. Something new then? I mean. . .” He paused when Geralt shot him a look. “Do Witchers know every single monster or do new ones show up occasionally?”

“The Conjunction was hundreds of years ago and the Continent isn't that big,” Geralt said as he sidestepped a rider who was going too fast and ignoring all the pedestrians that scrambled to get out of his way. “Mutations and hybrids can occur, but they're rare.”

“Are Manticores hybrids?”

“No, they're just a pain in the ass,” Geralt rumbled. They passed through the gate and looked around before stepping off the road onto a side path that led along the wall outside the city.

“But they have parts from different animals, right?

“Not the same thing,” Geralt said distractedly as he scanned the riverbank.

There were a handful of women washing clothes about twenty feet away on the far bank where a smattering of buildings in the Outskirts clung to the river's edge. The steeple of the temple rose up in the distance. The current here was fairly swift, keeping the river from being too awful. Waterways around large settlements tended to be foul, but it wasn't too bad here where this branch of the Ismena River flowed into Lake Vizima.

Geralt crouched at the water's edge, and Jaskier glanced around at the handful of broken crates scattered along the wall. It was mostly useless debris that looked like it had been dragged up out of the water. There were a couple empty bottles of home brew and an old boot that had holes in the thin leather. Jaskier held still and tried not to make any noise as Geralt went quiet. Sometimes when he focused, his attention sharpened to pick up minute details that others missed. His nostrils flared and Jaskier heard him scent the air.

“Hn.” He stood and frowned.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing, as in, leave you alone? Or nothing, as in nothing?” Jaskier asked as he looked at the dark water of the river.

“Nothing, as in, there's nothing here. No tracks, no scents. There was no monster here last night. Just a couple of teenagers drinking cheap booze and smoking.”

Jaskier wandered forward a few steps toward the water and opened his mouth to ask something and then stopped. About a foot away from the edge of the bank, a shiver ran up his spine.

“What's wrong?” Geralt asked him.

“I. . . I don't know.” Jaskier swallowed and knelt down, reluctantly getting closer. He reached out his hand and let it hover over the surface of the water. He could feel something, he wasn't sure what. His brain unhelpfully supplied him with images of something reaching up out of the water and grabbing him, and he tried to tamp them back down. It was just a river. The worst that would be in there was fish or maybe a snapping turtle. This area was too well traveled for Drowners to linger here. The water splashed and Jaskier lurched back with a startled cry, slamming back into Geralt's legs where he stood behind him. His sleeve was soaked and he quickly checked to make sure he had all his fingers. Children's laughter echoed across the river from the other side.

“What the. . ?”

“Are you alright?” Geralt looked down at him with a small smirk on his face.

“Do you think it's funny that I nearly lost a hand?”

“They threw a rock and splashed you.”

Jaskier looked up to see a gaggle of children hooting with laughter and he glared at them. “Why aren't you in school!?” he shouted at them as he got to his feet. They made faces and a shot him a few rude gestures before scampering off. “Rotten kids,” he muttered.

“What did you feel?” Geralt asked him.

“Something. I don't know what it is. There's magic here.” He shook his head. “But it was really faint. I don't feel anything now.”

Geralt gripped his medallion and frowned. “I'm not getting anything.”

“Maybe it was in the water and the splash dispersed it?”

“No.” Going to the water's edge, he stepped down into it.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting a closer look. Feel free to join me,” he muttered.

“Yeah. No. I think I'm fine right here,” Jaskier said, stepping back just in case. He really hadn't known what he'd felt. Detecting magic was tricky and there didn't seem to be any rules. Well. Geralt would probably tell him that yes, there were rules, he just wasn't paying attention to them. “So why wouldn't the rock disperse the magic?”

“Running water scatters the chaos and keeps spells from lingering.” Geralt rolled up his sleeves and reached down into the water that lapped at his knees.

“So you can't cast spells on water? Like, at all?”

“It can be done. I've seen it. You can do all kinds of things with the elements. But you can't set a magical trap in water without the chaos draining away before it has a chance to catch anything.”

“You think it was a trap?

Geralt pulled a small, glittering object from the water. It was a silver coin on a chain. “I think we need some more information,” he said as he sloshed his way back onto the bank. Water beaded on his boots and ran down the treated leather. He he took a moment to remove them and dump out the excess water before putting them back on and squelching his way back toward the gate.

“That's it?”

“For now. Need to talk to the guards.”

That was a gamble. Just because the guard last night had referred to Geralt as a mutant didn't mean that they were all bad. But Pavel had said it had been a long time since there was a Witcher in town. There might be a reason for that.

Geralt didn't head for the guardhouse they'd passed earlier, stopping instead at the gate where two bored looking men in blue coats with white fleur-de-lis were yawning at their posts. They paid them no mind until he got closer. It seemed that leaving the city hadn't bothered them, but coming back in was an issue.

“Ho there,” one of them said. “State your business.”

“Were you on watch last night?” Geralt asked him.

“That's none of your business, mutant,” the guard spat. Oh. Another one of those. This could get a bit more complicated. Jaskier bristled, but Geralt shot him a glance, telling him to be quiet.

“I'm looking for a young man that disappeared from the bank last night.”

“He should have known better than to go out at night all by his lonesome,” the second guard sneered.

“It probably ate him,” the first guard snickered.

“Oi,” the second one hissed. “Don't be bringin' that up. Speak of the devil and it shall appear.” He seemed genuinely spooked, and he glared at Geralt out of the corner of his eye, barely sparing Jaskier a glance.

The first guard scoffed and waved off his companion. “Be on your way. We don't have time to answer questions.”

Geralt steered Jaskier through the gate before he could say anything. He waited until they were out of earshot before finally speaking.

“Well that was spectacularly unhelpful,” he huffed.

“It was a long shot at best, but you never know until you ask,” Geralt told him as he forged a path through the scattered crowds.

“Now what? So far, the guards have been less than helpful.”

“We need to know more about the other people who have gone missing to see if it's related.” Geralt handed him the silver coin. “Go to the inn and ask Pavel if he recognizes this.”

“Where are you going?”

“The morgue.”

“Why. . . oh, shit. You think he's dead?”

“Not enough information. Go back to the inn. I'll meet you there at midday.” Geralt strode toward the west, heading in the direction of the Temple Quarter.

Jaskier frowned after him before heading back to the Dove and Pheasant. He examined the coin, but there wasn't much to it. There had been an image on it at one point, but it had faded with time so the only thing visible was indistinct bumps. On closer inspection, it wasn't silver. That would be too valuable to wear as a trinket. The faded metal must be some kind of alloy.

As he entered the inn, Pavel hustled over immediately. “Oh, Jaskier, sir,” he said as he glanced around. “Is the Witcher with you?”

“He'll be here later. What's wrong?”

Pavel gestured to a woman who was sitting at one of the tables with her head in her hands.

“This is Nelly. Her husband has disappeared, just like Dimitri.”

The woman raised her reddened eyes and sniffed. Her pale skin was nearly translucent and the shadows under her eyes were deep. When she saw the coin in Jaskier's hand, she pushed to her feet and came forward, nearly knocking her chair over in her haste.

“Where did you get this?!” she gasped. When she reached for it, Jaskier didn't hesitate to hand it over.

“Do you recognize it?”

“It belonged to my husband, Alfin.” Tears welled in her swollen eyes. “He's missing.” She clutched the pendant to her chest.

“How long has he been gone?” Jaskier asked her gently as he led her back to the table. He nudged the mostly full mug of tea towards her. She sat and wrapped her hands around it with the chain tangled in her fingers. The coin dangled against her knuckles as she raised the mug shakily to her lips.

“Nearly three days,” she said when she put the mug down and examined the coin again. “Where did you find this?”

“In the river by the south gate.”

Nelly looked up at him and squinted. “Why would he be all the way down there?”

“Is there any reason he'd go to the river's edge?” Jaskier asked her. He wasn't quite sure what to ask her to get the most pertinent information. Geralt was usually the one investigating.

“Not that I know of.”

“Is that where Dimitri was last night?” Pavel seemed mildly appalled. “That boy. . .”

“We promised Bren we wouldn't say anything,” Jaskier said warily. “Please don't tell his father.”

“As if I'd set foot in that sad excuse for an establishment,” Pavel sniffed. “I don't do business with men who treat others with such disrespect.” His expression softened. “Bren doesn't deserve such a father as that.”

“You don't think that he did something to your son, do you?” It was Jaskier's first thought when they'd gone to see the man earlier, but he was wrong about things like this often enough that he'd learned to be cautious. The search for Joanna's killer in Gelibol had taught him to think before jumping to conclusions.

“If he was the only one missing, maybe.” Pavel bit his lip. “But there have been others. Dimitri last night, Alfin three days ago. I heard rumors that one of the nobles from the Royal Quarter hasn't been seen in days.”

“How old is he?” Jaskier asked.

“Is that important?”

“It might be. I think. I'm trying to find out if they have something in common.” He nearly winced at the thought that his only knowledge of investigation, aside from watching Geralt, was detective and cop shows he used to watch in Lettenhove.

“Well, Dimitri is fifteen,” Pavel said. “And the noble is in his twenties. Can't recall his name, but I know he's young. He just inherited the title recently.”

“My Alfin has seen more than forty summers,” Nelly said, clutching at the mug. “He's not a young man anymore.”

Jaskier was nearly forty himself, though he looked younger. Elven genetics did wonders. But that meant that age wasn't the common factor.

“What does your husband do for a living?”

“He's a farrier. Works in the stables by the northern gate mostly, but he travels around the city and out into the surrounding towns every other month or so. He'd just gotten home from White Bridge the day before he went missing.”

White Bridge was north of the city. Dimitri had disappeared from the south gate. Damn.

“What about the noble? Where was he when he went missing?”

Pavel shrugged. “It's just a rumor. But nobody has seen him in nearly a week and there are rumors about a cover up. I don't pay attention to such gossip usually, but well. . .” He trailed off helplessly. “One or two people is a coincidence.”

“But three is more of a pattern,” Jaskier said. Sort of. The Wood was a harsh place that had much higher physical requirements without the help of modern technology or electricity. It was common for life spans to be shorter and for unfortunate events to happen. But that wisp of magic Jaskier had felt made him wary of dismissing it out of turn.

“Where was the last place you saw your husband?” he asked Nelly. Geralt wouldn't be back for at least a couple hours yet and he wasn't going to just sit here.

“He was going to Old Vizima to see about the horses out on Gerard's farm. The Dwarves value his skills.” Her jaw clenched for a moment. “But he didn't come home that night. I waited nearly until dawn. He said he'd come back. He always comes back.”

“We'll find out what happened,” Jaskier assured her even though he wasn't sure how he was going to do it. Making promises like that was not a great idea, but he really wanted to make her feel better. Her expression darkened and her gazed flitted up and down, taking in his bright clothing, seemingly for the first time.

“Who's we? You hardly look capable of more than simpering and fawning,” she said bitterly.

“That's enough. Drink your tea, dear,” Pavel murmured as he drew Jaskier away from the table. “Please forgive her rudeness. She's been under a lot of stress even before this,” he said. There was a tension in his jaw and he looked like he was having trouble holding it together himself.

“It's alright. I understand. I'm going to head over to see Gerard and get some more information.”

“Alone?”

“It'll be fine.”

“Perhaps you should wait for Master Geralt to return so he can go with you.” Pavel seemed a bit wary.

“I've got it. If he gets back before I do, just tell him where I'm off to. He'll find me.” And if worse came to worse, he could search for the tracker hidden in his boot. It wouldn't be the first time. Jaskier just hoped it wouldn't be needed.

Chapter Text

Old Vizima loomed up over stockade that had been built up around it where it sat across a broad expanse of water that fed into the lake. The buildings leaned a little drunkenly, showing their age in comparison to the neater, more structurally sound stone walls and buildings inside the city. As Jaskier crossed the bridge and moved through the gate, he realized why Pavel had been so nervous. Vizima was not a terribly diverse city and most of its inhabitants were Human. After spending time in Novigrad where the races mixed more evenly, if not easily, it had seemed odd to Jaskier the first time he came here.

But just like the Elves and Dwarves that lived south of Novigrad, the non-Human population congregated here in a smaller, older version of the city. But they didn't seem to cross the bridge much from what he'd seen. There were a fair amount of suspicious glares shot his way from stocky Dwarves and disinterested glances from slender Elves. He was in the minority here, but he wasn't nervous because he stood out. Jaskier was used to that. His clothing alone was usually enough to set him apart from the crowd in a lot of places. He wished he'd brought his lute so he could have arrived singing. But since he was going to ask questions, he felt that announcing his presence first would have been a bit much.

He stopped outside a woodworking shop that had a small, fenced in yard where two Dwarves were cutting down logs into smaller pieces of timber.

“Good morning, Sirs,” Jaskier said jovially with a wave.

“'Mornin',” one of them said as he nodded at the other, who pursed his lips behind his beard and grumped into the shop behind them. The first dwarf put a hand on his hip where a wicked looking knife hung in a sheath. “Can I help ye?”

“I'm looking for Gerard. A friend of mine was supposed to see him about a horse a few days ago.”

“Who's this friend then?”

Jaskier opened his mouth, another jovial statement on the tip of his tongue. But he sighed instead. All of the Dwarves he knew appreciated blunt honesty. Maybe that would be a better approach.

“I'm sorry for disturbing you this morning. But Alfin the farrier was going to see Gerard about a horse three days ago. He hasn't come home yet and I'm trying to get some more information.” He spread his hands, showing they were empty. “I'm just trying to find him.”

The Dwarf's lips thinned and he held out a hand toward the shop when the second Dwarf emerged with two more on his heels. All of them looked sullen and wary as they scanned the area like they were looking for something. Or someone, apparently. A Halfling trotted up to the fence gate and came to a puffing stop.

“It's okay, Mattis. He's alone,” the Halfling huffed as he leaned against the fence. “And he's one of the good ones. Looking up at Jaskier he grinned. “Heard you at sing at the wedding last summer. Good stuff.”

The second Dwarf eyed Jaskier as he crossed his arms over his chest. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Leave off, Zanth. Please?” the Halfling asked with a sigh. “He's not like the others. My sister up in Novigrad wrote about him. He hangs out with Elves and Dwarves all the time. Petunia spoke really highly of him.”

It was true. During their stay in Novigrad during spring of last year when he'd reunited with Elihal, Jaskier had spent a great deal of time outside the wall where the non-Humans lived. He'd found their company a bit easier to tolerate than those inside the city. Not all humans were racist assholes, but after all the trouble with his cousin Ferrant and his brief run-in with Doldir, a prejudiced follower of the Eternal Fire, he preferred less objectionable companions.

“You must be Cosmo,” Jaskier said with a smile. “I'm Jaskier the Bard, at your service,” he said with a bow before he offered his hand. Cosmo took his hand in his slender fingers and shook it vigorously, a huge smile on his face.

“Petunia likes him?” Zanth said with a raised brow. “That's high praise indeed. Might not be all bad, I suppose. What do you need?” he asked with a little less antagonism. He still didn't seem completely convinced, but he was a bit less hostile. The other two Dwarves with him relaxed a bit as well.

“He's looking for Alfin,” Mattis said as he tugged at his beard.

“Fuck. If he's lookin', others will come here as well. Sniffin' around and causing a ruckus.” Zanth huffed. “We don't know where he is, lad. He said he was going back home to get a tool he'd forgotten and never showed back up. Would've thought he was bailing on us, but he's a good sort. For a Human,” he muttered.

Mattis grunted. “Is Nelly alright? She must be beside herself if he's still not back yet.”

“She's upset, but as okay as she can be. Would you mind telling me where Gerard is, so I can talk to him as well?”

“We would, but nobody's seen him since the day after Alfin left. He went out to check one of the pasture fences and didn't come back.” Mattis spat into the dirt. “We've been lookin' for two days and there's no sign of him.”

“Fuck,” Jaskier muttered.

“Indeed,” Zanth said. “It's not good to hear that Alfin's gone as well.”

“Along with a teenage boy from the Trade Quarter and a young noble from the Royal Quarter,” Jaskier told them. The missing people were piling up. And these were just the ones who'd been noticed. He was worried that there may have been more that hadn't been reported. Cities were full of forgotten people that existed on the fringes of society without really being part of it.

“Well fuck,” Mattis said, huffing. “If Humans are going missing and a noble got snatched as well, that changes things. Might even need a Witcher if we can find one.”

“Well, you're in luck, my friends, because it just so happens that Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf himself is on the case already.”

“Are any of the things in your songs true?” Zanth asked, his brow raised in disbelief. “It's hard to swallow some of the codswallop you've been peddlin'.”

Jaskier nodded. “While I take some artistic license, the core of the stories are true. He'll do everything he can to find everyone that's gone missing.”

“All of them?” Mattis asked. “He's not just in it for the noble's coin?”

“No,” Jaskier said seriously, making sure there was no hint of exaggeration in his voice. “Geralt doesn't care about where people come from or what station they were born into. He's going to search for everyone, not just Humans with money.”

“Good then,” Mattis said, nodding at Jaskier. “Tell him we'll pool together for a reward if he kills the thing that's been taking people. Double if he recovers the victims.”

“I'll tell him,” Jaskier agreed. “Though Geralt may not take your coin. He's already contracted with an innkeeper who lost his son, and he doesn't take money from more than one person for a job.”

Mattis and Zanth exchanged a glance before Mattis shook his head. “As he likes.”

“I'd like to take a look at the pasture where Gerard disappeared.” He didn't have Witcher senses, but if there was magic to be found, he'd rather check sooner rather than later.

“I'll take you,” Cosmo said, puffing up like he was proud to offer his services as a guide. Petunia bemoaned the fact that her little brother didn't have enough sense for her liking, but to Jaskier, he just seemed enthusiastic.

“Easy, lad,” Mattis said as he came forward and opened up the gate to step out into the street with them. “You're not going on your own.”

“The more the merrier,” Cosmo said happily, unperturbed by the burly Dwarf.

“Come on then. It's about twenty minutes outside the city.” He waved a hand at his companions. The other two Dwarves picked up where he and Zanth left off. Zanth watched them for a moment before heaving a sigh and coming with them. They made a strange procession through the streets with Cosmo, Mattis, Zanth, and Jaskier standing head and shoulders above them.

There was a faint curl of magic about the neighborhood and he glanced around, trying to find the source of it. But it seemed to come from the area itself.

“Are there enchantments here?” Jaskier asked as he looked for runes that were sometimes carved above doorways.

Zanth cast him a sideways glance. “Why?”

“Just wondering.” He sometimes forgot that not everyone knew about his magic. He didn't know much about it himself. The Wood was soaked in magic to the point that it was in the air they breathed. When he'd first come into the Wood with a caravan, everyone had been surprised that he was sensitive enough to feel it. But there was something about this area that felt unusual, at least in comparison to what he felt in the main part of the city across the water.

The wide range of people that had gone missing was starting to make this feel a lot more complicated. Age wasn't a factor, the locations were spread across the city, and now it seemed that race didn't have anything to do with it. And while magic appeared to be involved at first glance, it wasn't necessarily a monster. He'd actually been surprised that hiring a Witcher was Mattis's go-to solution.

Jaskier kept watching the streets around them as they moved further through Old Vizima toward a gate on the other side that led out into the open fields beyond. To the northeast, trees rose up in the distance. Cropland and animal pastures lead all the way up to the edge of the forest. The south looked marshy and wet.

Gerard's pasture was in between the forest and the marsh with a small stable set up in the corner. Short, sturdy looking ponies grazed in the field. The nearest looked up at their approach and ambled over to the fence to see what was going on. It's curly coat was a caramel brown with a silky golden mane. Jaskier smiled.

“Well, aren't you gorgeous,” he said, amused.

The pony nickered in response and the Dwarves gave Jaskier as speculative look.

“You work with horses much?” Mattis asked.

“Not really. But I get along well with all kinds of animals.” He thought of Roach and her pickiness when it came to people. She respected Geralt and she'd come to love Jaskier, but she rarely tolerated others for long. Experienced grooms could handle her fine, but she'd bitten a couple that hadn't been to her liking and she was the reason that Jaskier didn't have his own mount. She tolerated other horses even less than people.

The ponies didn't seem disturbed by anything as they moved placidly through the field. Jaskier had seen a couple hooked up to wagons on the way here.
Shorter mounts were probably easier to handle when you were short of stature yourself.

“Who's been minding the ponies while Gerard is gone?” Jaskier asked.

“That'd be me.” A female Dwarf rode up on a pale gray pony. “What's the word, Mattis?”

“Nothin' much, Joline.” He nodded at Jaskier. “This here's a bard who's come asking after Gerard. Says his Witcher's on the hunt to find everyone.”

“Everyone?” she asked with a raised brow.

“Well, there's Alfin. And then there's a boy and some noble from the city who have disappeared as well.”

“Fuck,” she muttered as she leaned forward to pat her pony's neck. “That's all we need. Human's sticking their noses in. We look after our own.”

“I beg your pardon, madam,” Jaskier said. “But it's not just Dwarves that are affected.”

“And no Human will give a fuck that a Dwarf has gone missing. It was only when the noble tossed it that anyone took notice, am I right?” Her bitterness was palpable.

“No, your not,” Jaskier said gently. “Geralt was hired by an innkeeper who's only son is missing. Race, creed, and wealth make no difference to him.”

“Only money,” she sneered.

“If you like. He's being compensated for the task already, so you need have no worry that he'll ask you for coin.” He understood her anger, but he did have limits. “May I have a look around? Mattis said Gerard had come out to check the fence.”

“Suit yourself.” She nodded at the far side of the pasture. “He was repairing the fence post along the other side of the barn. Don't bother the ponies. And if one of them bites you, don't come whining to me.”

Jaskier didn't think that would be a problem. He went through the gate as Zanth opened it for him with Cosmo following along behind. Mattis nodded at Joline who just shrugged and rode past them down the road. The pony at the fence followed them, keeping pace with Jaskier as he walked along. He wished he'd brought an apple.

The fence post in question was just a fence post. But there was something else. He got that brief feeling of magic again and Jaskier crouched down to brush the grass aside. There was something silver glinting in the dirt. He plucked out a thick silver ring. Like Alfin's pendant, it was an alloy of something and not true silver.

“You recognize this?” Jaskier asked as he stood and held out the ring to Mattis.

“Aye. It's Gerard's.”

“Could you give it to Joline? I don't think she'll appreciate it if it comes from me.”

“You're probably right. She doesn't have much use for Humans,” Mattis said as he accepted the ring and tucked it into a pouch at his belt. “You find anything besides that?”

“No.” Jaskier wasn't going to tell him about the magic he'd felt. He'd have to discuss that with Geralt. And speak of the devil. He could see him waiting at the gate where they'd entered. Jaskier waved, knowing that the other man was probably glowering at him.

“Friend o' yers?” Zanth asked.

“That's Geralt come to collect me. I'll let him know about Gerard. We'll find him.”

“Sure.” Zanth sounded doubtful, but that was hardly surprising.

When they got to the gate, Geralt was indeed, glowering. Not so much that he was scary, but Jaskier knew he was pissed.

“How's it going?” Jaskier asked amiably as he went through the gate.

Geralt didn't answer as he looked toward the Dwarves. Cosmo looked up and made a face.

“I thought you'd be taller.”

Geralt regarded him calmly. “Don't let exaggerated rumors deceive you,” he rumbled, giving Jaskier a dry look.

“You're the Witcher, then?” Zanth asked.

“I am. And you are?”

“This is Mattis and Zanth,” Jaskier said. “And this is Petunia's little brother Cosmo. Their friend Gerard has gone missing. He was last seen in this field. You want to look at the spot?”

Geralt glared. “And how did you come to find all this out?” he asked as he followed Jaskier back through the gate. The Dwarves and Cosmo followed.

“Well, I've been busy this morning,” Jaskier said as he filled him in on his discussion with Pavel and Nelly, and then the Dwarves.

“Hn.” he didn't comment farther than that. He examined the area but didn't find anything. There were no marks or anything pointing towards a monster as the culprit.

When they got back to the woodworking shop, Mattis and Zanth waved them off and went back to work. Cosmo shook Jaskier's hand enthusiastically again and asked him to let him know if he was going to be performing. Then he headed back toward the wall from where he came from. Geralt and Jaskier headed back into the city.

“So, how was the morgue?”

“Not nearly as enlightening as your morning turned out to be. Any particular reason you decided to head out on your own without me?” The flat, even tone of his voice made Jaskier wince.

“I'm not completely incapable, Geralt,” he said, feeling a little defensive. “I'm allowed to travel around on my own.”

“When people are disappearing,” Geralt rumbled. “Not the best idea.”

“I'm here, aren't I? I asked Pavel to let you know where I was. And I got a bunch of information. In addition to Dimitri, Alfin disappeared three days ago He's a farrier who was working in Old Vizima. Two days ago, the Dwarf he went to see also vanished when he went to go check a fence in his pasture. With the noble Pavel heard about, that makes four missing.”

“Five. A girl from the Temple District didn't come home last week.”

“Shit. Okay, so now there's five and I can't figure out any link between them.” Jaskier glanced around to see who was in earshot. “And I got that tingle of magic by the fence post,” he said, with his voice lowered. “That's the only thing I've noticed that's the same so far. I don't know where Alfin actually disappeared from, so I couldn't check there.”

Geralt sighed. “I'm not seeing any signs of monsters or beasts. I need to go see the noble's house and figure out exactly when he went missing.”

“Hopefully this will occur after lunch,” Jaskier said, feeling his stomach start to pull a little bit. The pastry wasn't holding him over very well. “Have you eaten anything today?”

Geralt eyed him but swung over to the next street so they could head back to the Dove and Pheasant. When they arrived, Nelly was gone and Pavel was serving a handful of customers who'd come in for a midday meal. When he saw Jaskier and Geralt, he put together a plate of meats and cheeses with a small loaf of bread and a jug of juice.

“I won't ask how your progress is going, though I want to.” Pavel shrugged and jostled the tray. “I know you won't get results right away. I mean. It's a big city and-”

“It's alright,” Jaskier told him gently as he took the tray from him. “We're working on it. Don't worry.” He was smart enough to know not to give him any details they'd found. That would only lead to more worry and rumors traveling. “We'll be heading out again in a little bit.” He set down the tray and leaned in a little. “Do you know anything more about the noble that went missing? His name, maybe?”

“Ah, yes.” Pavel brightened. “Lord Ferrington. He just inherited the title from his father a few weeks ago. Some of the rumors are hinting that he's dodging his responsibilities and that he's hiding out somewhere. But it's hard to say. I don't travel in those circles. Does that help?” he asked hopefully.

“It does,” Jaskier said, patting him on the shoulder. When he reached for his coin purse, Pavel waved him away.

“I'll not take payment from you while you're searching,” he said. “Just find my boy.” His eyes watered a little bit and he just nodded at him before heading back into the kitchen

Jaskier settled at the table with Geralt. “Do you think we can find him?”

Geralt eyed him seriously. “Do you want an honest answer, or do you want me to make you feel better?”

“Surprise me,” Jaskier said dryly, fully knowing that the more time passed, the less chance they had of finding Dimitri.

“It's unlikely the boy's still alive,” Geralt said quietly. “Sometimes the best I can do is find out what happened. Most of the time, it's not enough.”

Jaskier hoped that it wouldn't come to that. Geralt had never really failed a task in the time that they'd been traveling, but Jaskier was realistic about how the world worked. He wasn't so much of a romantic that he ignored reality. But if Dimitri or any of the others were gone before they could reach them, the deaths would weigh heavily on Geralt. They always did.

Chapter Text

Vizima was a better kept city than the underlying seediness of Novigrad. If there was an underworld here, it was better hidden. Perhaps it was because Novigrad was a port city that saw far more travelers from distant lands. As a landlocked city, Vizima saw it's fair share of travelers, but it wasn't the same kind of trade hub.

The Royal Quarter was more prosperous than the Trade Quarter and many of the city's resident nobles lived here, as was evidenced by the cleaner streets and better kept buildings. Lord Ferrington's mansion was a small compound in the western half of the quarter nearer the castle that rose above the city. When Geralt strode up to the gate, Jaskier's brows rose.

“You're going to knock on the front door?”

Geralt shot him a look. “You want me to sneak in the back? We're here to ask questions, not skulk about.”

“Oh.” Jaskier was oddly disappointed by that.

“If they decide to be assholes about this, then we can break in,” Geralt said casually as he turned to the door.

Jaskier grinned and stood at his shoulder as Geralt raised the huge iron knocker and rapped it against the metal plate beneath it. They waited for a few moments and Geralt nodded just before a smaller portal in the gate opened. A well manicured man opened the door.

“Can I help you?” he asked with a mildly bored look on his face.

“We're here to see Lord Ferrington,” Geralt said.

“About?”

“A contract.”

“I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about.” The man grasped the door and looked about ready to close it in their faces, but Geralt pushed forward to keep it open with his arm braced against it.

“If you'd like to pretend that your employer is still in residence, fine. But if you want him found so you can continue to be employed, then you'll let me in. The crown doesn't take kindly to squatters.” Geralt sounded reasonable and he kept his voice down, but the man at the door paled suddenly. His mask of indifference was quite good, but he wasn't as talented at keeping up the pretense under stress. He glanced up and down the street briefly before ushering them in.

“Quickly, quickly, before someone sees you,” he hissed quietly.

Inside the courtyard, there was a small carriage off to one side being loaded with baggage. There were flower gardens in front of the windows and the paving stones had been laid in an intricate pattern. It was a nice place. The man who had answered the door stood in their way and didn't invite them into the large house.

“Explain this supposed contract,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. He shifted his weight uneasily from foot to foot.

“You really want to discuss this outside?” Jaskier asked. “Nobody can see us here, but people have ears. And we didn't catch your name.”

“Because I didn't volunteer it,” the man said, sneering at them despite his obvious unease. But he ended up relenting and leading them toward the house with a huffing sigh. But they only made it into the foyer. It was a grand space, if a little ostentatious with a large, thick ornate rug at the foot of the staircase.

“Who are these people, Broderick?” An older woman in an embroidered gown came down the stairs. Her graying hair was pinned up in an elaborate style and her bodice was almost indecently low. Her hand fluttered up to the pendant at her neck like she wanted to cover herself, then she frowned and gripped the newel post instead. Jaskier would have applauded her self confidence if it didn't appear that she was trying too hard.

Broderick winced. “My Lady, these gentleman were inquiring about your son.”

The woman, the former Lady Ferrington apparently, regarded them coolly with an edge of bitter anger beneath the words. “My son is not currently at home. You'd best be off to do whatever it is. . .you do,” she sniffed disdainfully, spoiling the gesture by gripping her pendant again.

Geralt returned her gaze passively. To an outside observer, he probably looked bored, but he was studying her and gauging his chances of continuing the conversation. His nostrils flared and he nodded to her.

“I'm sorry to bother you, my Lady,” he said before turning and heading back out the way they came. Jaskier blinked and looked around in confusion before following him. Geralt was already moving out through the gate when he came outside, seemingly heading somewhere specific. Jaskier trailed after him, knowing better than to ask questions that probably wouldn't be answered. Geralt headed down the street slowly, looking around briefly before slipping between buildings. They ended up in a back alley by a sewer grate.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Jaskier murmured.

“Stay here or go back to the inn,” Geralt told him as he levered the heavy metal grate open.

“Well,” Jaskier huffed, not really wanting to follow him down, but not wanting to go back on his own to wait either. One glance down the ladder had him changing his mind. The tunnel was narrow and dark and he could already feel a sharp fluttering in his chest at the sight. He backed up a step and tripped over a loose paving stone. Geralt lunged forward and snagged his doublet before he fell back and cracked his head open.

“Easy,” Geralt murmured, pulling him back up and moving in close with his hand on the back of Jaskier's neck. He squeezed lightly as Jaskier rested his forehead on Geralt's shoulder.

“Sorry,” he huffed as he tried to get his breathing under control again.

“Stay here. This shouldn't take too long.”

“What's down there?”

“What's left of Ferrington.”

Jaskier straightened and looked at him. “He's dead?

“Smelled blood in the foyer of the mansion and followed the trail here. It might not be him, but somebody died at the foot of those stairs. My bet is mommy dearest wasn't happy that her son inherited after hubby's death.”

“Really?”

“I've seen it before. And she was too nervous for a mother who's son had run off to ditch his title.” Geralt looked at him and brushed his fingers along Jaskier's jaw. “You good now?”

“Yeah. Go take a look. I'll be right here.”

Geralt eyed him for a moment before nodding and descending into the hole. Jaskier stepped away and leaned against the alley wall.

&*&*&

“Are you scared of the dark?” Ciri asked him. It wasn't a mocking question, merely a curious one.

“Not the dark by itself. I don't like small spaces,” Jaskier told her, unsure of how to explain how it made him feel without scaring her.

“Why?”

He took a deep breath. Ah, the dreaded 'why'. She'd be asking that until his explanation satisfied her. He was mildly distressed that she hadn't asked about Ferrington's death at all, like it hadn't surprised her. But he supposed that was the world she'd grown up in. She'd been training with a knife since she was old enough to hold one. There was no way Eist and Olaf hadn't explained to her why she was learning how to stab and cut things.

“Well, when I'm in a small space, I feel like it's going to shrink and get smaller until it crushes me.” He took a deep calming breath and let it out slowly. “It makes me a little shaky and I have trouble breathing.”

Ciri frowned. “But it won't shrink. I play hide and seek in the cupboards all the time and none of them get smaller.”

“It's not about what will actually happen. It's what I imagine might happen. It's not really. . . real. The fear.”

“Then don't be afraid.”

He looked at her open, honest expression with mixed feelings. It obviously wasn't that simple. He wished he could just stop being afraid, but it didn't work like that. On the other hand, he was glad that she wasn't incapacitated by fear in a way that made this particular discussion relatable to her.

“it's not so simple,” he told her. “When fear is that strong, it's harder to control.”

“What if Geralt needed you to go down there? Who would feel for magic?”

Right. He'd mentioned his magic while telling this story and was mildly surprised that she hadn't asked about it. He was going to have to be careful. “Well, I was just getting to that. It just so happens that he did need me, and I had to fight past the fear to get to him.”

&*&*&

Geralt had been down in the sewers a long time and the movement of the sun attested to the fact that it wasn't just Jaskier's imagination. Once he calmed down, he'd gotten fidgety. And then he'd started pacing. Geralt could handle himself, so he wasn't worried about that. While there were probably no Drowners by the river, there might be some in the drainage tunnels. Or maybe he'd found what he'd needed and he'd exited somewhere else because it was easier.

But the dread coiling in Jaskier's stomach told him otherwise. He wished that he had some way to track Geralt the same way the other man could track him. It would make this easier. Squaring up his shoulders and preparing himself as much as he could, Jaskier went over to the grate and looked down at the ladder that had been built into the stonework. His pulse tripped just looking at it and he wished he had a flashlight. He'd probably just set himself on fire with a torch. But there was no way he could stay up here when it had been more than an hour. All Geralt was going to do was check to see if Ferrington was down there. It shouldn't be taking this long.

The first few steps down the ladder made Jaskier's legs quiver and his breath quicken. He tried not to imagine that he was being swallowed by something. The smell was. . . unpleasant wasn't quite the word. That wasn't quite descriptive enough. Jaskier has no idea how Geralt could pick out the smell of blood through so many. . . things.

When his feet touched the ground, he had to blink his eyes to adjust to the low light. His Elven vision allowed him to see much better in the dark. If he were still Human, he'd probably be in complete darkness.

&*&*&

The tiny gasp beside Jaskier made him close his eyes and bite back some rather inappropriate language.

“You're an Elf?” Ciri whispered.

“Do I look like an Elf?” he asked her.

She peered up at him through her lashes, turning her head to see his ears. “Your ears look normal.”

Jaskier's lips thinned as he weighed the options about what to tell her. “Some things are better left unsaid.”

“Like secrets?”

“Yes, like secretes.” He reached out and brushed a wisp of hair away from her forehead.

“Gran doesn't like Elves,” she said, her mouth turning down in a frown. “I don't know why.”

Jaskier sighed. “Some people don't like those who are different.”

“But you're different and she likes that about you.”

“Does she?” That was news to him. His relationship with the queen was dependent on how Ciri felt about him. Calanthe seemed to tolerate him more than anything else.

“Well. She's mean to everyone, but sometimes that's because she likes them and she can't show it.” Her face scrunched up. “Eist told me it's because people would think she's weak, but that's dumb. I like who I like. That doesn't mean I'm not strong. I can like people and be strong at the same time.”

“Yes, you can.” Jaskier looked at her seriously. “But you can't tell anyone about my secret.”

Ciri sniffed. “Nobody would believe me. You look human. And Mousesack knows about your magic, so Gran knows about your magic.”

“She does. And both she and Eist told me not to talk about it.”

Ciri looked sheepish for a moment before breaking out in a grin. “I won't tell anybody.”

“Thank you.”

“So what happened next?!”

“Well. . .”

&*&*&

Jaskier glanced around the tunnel, feeling his heart fluttering where he stood on a raised lip above a trough of filthy water. It was a dead end here at the ladder so there was only one way to go. Once his vision adjusted, he moved forward carefully through the gloom. He resisted the urge to call out to Geralt. If there was anything down here, it would just alert them to his presence.

When the tunnel branched off in two different directions, he paused. Which way should he go? The smell didn't seem different from either direction and he couldn't follow scent trails the way Geralt could. He'd described it as almost being able to see cloudy path laid out in front of him, but all Jaskier could smell was sewer and dirty water. Veering off to the left, he tried to remember which way he was going so he wouldn't get lost. A scuttling sound made him flinch and stumble and he ended up tripping over something.

He braced his hand on the slimy wall and ended up bent down over lumpy heap on the ground. Jaskier bit back a cry and buried his nose in his elbow at the smell. A young man's cloudy, glazed eyes stared up at the roof of the tunnel. There was a horrid, ragged gash across his throat that made Jaskier straighten and turn away as he swallowed convulsively. He backed away and tried to breathe shallowly through his mouth. If that was Ferrington, where the hell was Geralt? This wasn't that far from the ladder where he'd gone in.

A low moaning sound made him shiver and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Looking back the way he came, he saw the darkness getting deeper, like some kind of shadow was swallowing up what little light there was. Jaskier stumbled over the body and moved further down the tunnel. He didn't dare run because the footing was so wet and slick. He'd hate to think of what it was like when it rained.

A quick glance back showed him that the shadow was speeding up and his breath started rasping in his throat as he tried not to sob. If this was what had gotten Geralt, he stood no chance against it. The darkness overtook him an an icy cold sank through his suddenly damp clothing. Jaskier felt his eyes roll back just before he passed out.

&*&*&

“What was it?” Cir asked.

“I'm getting to that,” Jaskier told her. “Patience, my brazen little lion cub. You can't rush a good story.”

“I want to know what happened next! What happened to Geralt? Was it a monster? You said there'd be no monsters.”

“All will be revealed in good time. . .”

&*&*&

When Jaskier woke, he was cold and wet. He was sprawled in a shallow layer of water, but there was something hard digging into his back and his hips. Opening his eyes, he saw the thick, steel bars of a cage looming above him. It was the bars on the bottom of the cage that were digging into his back. It was dark outside now, but he had no idea how long it had been. He lay still for a moment, but didn't hear anything at first.

Then there was a soft sigh from somewhere to his right telling him he wasn't alone, so he sat up slowly to get a proper look around. About twenty feet in front of him, a crumbling, ruined tower rose up above the swamp. It's top floors had fallen down long ago and only a shell remained, but the bottom three floors looked relatively intact. There was no door that he could see even though it had a raised dais with stairs leading down to the ground that looked like it should have one.

Jaskier's breath caught as he saw Geralt sprawled in the cage beside him. His skin was paler than usual and Jaskier wasn't sure if the moisture on his forehead was from the swamp water or if he was sweating. Shifting closer and ignoring the fetid slosh of water that lapped around his legs, he felt for a pulse. The slow stead beat of Geralt's heart seemed fainter than usual, but at least he was breathing.

“Geralt.” Jaskier prodded his shoulder but all it did was make the other man turn his head. “Shit,” Jaskier muttered as he levered Geralt's torso up out of the water so he could rest the other man's head on his thigh. Geralt usually ran a bit hot, be his skin felt feverish under Jaskier's hands.

“Who're you?” The voice was young.

Jaskier looked over to see a young man in another cage a few feet away. He was wet and bedraggled looking where he sat huddled in the corner against the bars. There were several cages around them with people in them. There were a lot more than five.

“I'm Jaskier. What's your name?”

“Dimitri,” the young man said as he glanced around nervously. “Did it take you too?”

“Ah,” Jaskier chuckled. “Actually, I'm here to rescue you. Sort of.”

Dimitri gave him an incredulous look.

“Yes, I know.” Jaskier blew out a breath. “I'm probably not exuding a lot of confidence right now. But ah. . . we've gotten out of worse scrapes than this.” Though he couldn't think of when that might have been.

“You don't exactly seem like the rescuin' type,” a rough voice said from somewhere to his left.

Jaskier looked over to see a glowering Dwarf crouched in another cage. A human man seemed to be asleep beside him.

“Gerard, I presume?”

“What of it?” the Dwarf grumped.

“Mattis and Zanth sent us to find you.”

“Us?”

Jaskier looked down at Geralt's pale face and smoothed his damp hair away from his forehead. “This is Geralt of Rivia. And when he wakes up, he's going to get all of us out of here.” He hoped.

“Shhhh!” Dimitri's desperate whisper made everyone in the other cages hunker down and try to be as small as possible.

“What's going on?” Jaskier asked, afraid to move.

“It's coming,” Dimitri said, his voice small.

The inky darkness Jaskier had seen in the tunnels swept across the clearing, sending ripples across the pooled swamp water surrounding the tower. At its center were two red glowing orbs. Jaskier swallowed nervously. This must have been what Bren saw on the riverbank. It coalesced into the form of a person in long flowing robes. The fabric didn't seem to get wet when it trailed through the muddy water as a bearded man with a hood pulled low over his face came forward.

“Hmm.” He came over to the cage and studied Jaskier through the bars. He waved a hand and Jaskier felt a sharp heat lance through him. “Oh. You'll do.”

Jaskier didn't like the sound of that but he didn't have the breath to ask the man what he wanted.

Chapter Text

Jaskier choked out a cough as the pain spiked and then he slumped back against the bars as it suddenly stopped. He sat, his breaths heaving as he glared at the man outside the cage.

“Who are you?” he gasped.

“That information is of no import to you. Now. To the task at hand.”

“I'm not helping you do anything.”

“Oh, my dear boy. As if you have a choice.” The man disbursed into a dark cloud again and engulfed the cage.

Jaskier was enveloped by that icy bone-deep cold again and he felt disoriented, but he fought the pull of unconsciousness. He couldn't help Geralt if he passed out again. When he could see, he was sitting on the dais in front of the tower. Jaskier turned back to the cage where he'd just been. Geralt had flopped back into the water with no sign that he'd woken, but at least his nose and mouth were clear so he wouldn't drown. Jaskier tried to get to his feet, but a strong force shoved him back down and he ended up on his hands and knees on the cracked stone.

“What do you want?” he bit out.

“Again, it's-”

“Yes, yes, it's of no import to me,” Jaskier huffed as he sat up on his knees. “Except it is, you see. I doubt your intentions are noble when you've taken so many innocent people.” He looked the strange man in the eye. “I like to know what I'm up against.”

The Mage leaned down and gripped Jaskier's chin hard, his fingers digging into his jaw. “You're not up against anything. You're just a tool to be used.” He turned Jaskier's head slightly and peered at him, like he was examining his features. “I don't know what kind of magic you possess, but perhaps yours will work where the others failed,” he murmured. It sounded like he was talking more to himself than to Jaskier.

The sharp heat stabbed him again and Jaskier groaned behind his clenched teeth. Gods it hurt. He felt the weight of the Leshen's Heartwood pendant under his shirt and tried to focus on it. He closed his eyes and just tried to breathe. The grip on his jaw tightened before he was shoved roughly back. He ended up in a heap on the ground and he tried to crawl away from the Mage who looked extremely angry. The man threw his hand out and Jaskier screamed as his back arched painfully. He felt the oily coil of magic the Mage was manipulating, but he didn't know what to do about it.

“STOP!” he shouted and felt the sudden burst of sound make the magic snap back to where it came from.

The physical force on his body stopped abruptly and the Mage stumbled back a few steps. His nose was bleeding. He reached up a hand to dab at the flow before snarling at Jaskier. The black cloud engulfed him again, sending him spiraling into disorientation until he was back in the cage.

“Fuck,” he muttered as he struggled not to be sick. When he felt relatively stable again, he glanced around the clearing but saw no sign of the Mage.

“Are you alright, lad?” Gerard asked him quietly.

“Yeah. What the hell was that?” Jaskier checked on Geralt again and found no change.

“I think he's trying to get into the tower,” Dimitri said. “It's cursed,” he whispered.

“That's a load of shite,” Gerard muttered. “Some arsehole Sorcerer screwed with nature and it screwed him right back. Now all that's left is the ruin and the magic that keeps drawing monsters. But it's not a curse.”

Jaskier looked around the swamp to see if there was anything lurking around as he settled Geralt's head in his lap again. “Drowners,” he said, his lip curling. That was one particular monster he had no qualms about exterminating.

“Some. And maybe a Foglet or two.” The Dwarf sounded indifferent while Dimitri huddled in on himself. “Haven't seen anything yet, but its only a matter of time,” Dimitri said. “You a sorcerer then?” he asked Jaskier, sounding surprisingly neutral about it.

“No.”

“Then what was all that fuss? Never seen the fucker reel back like that.”

“I don't know. I just. . . I don't know,” Jaskier sighed.

“Alright.” Gerard tightened his arms where they were crossed over his chest. It seemed he was done talking for now.

“It'd be great if you could wake up,” Jaskier murmured to Geralt. But the Witcher remained pale and unresponsive. He wasn't bleeding that Jaskier could see and he hadn't found any bumps on his scalp that would have led to a concussion. There was something wrong with him and it was more than just standard unconsciousness. Jaskier started examining him more carefully, looking for any spots in his armor that may have been breached.

He found something that was partially hidden by the cuffs of his shirt under his bracers. There were dark circles of metal wrapped around his wrists and they were so cold, they burned Jaskier's fingertips when he touched them. He hissed out a breath. Were they burning Geralt too? Jaskier searched in vain to find a clasp or lock that could be undone. But they seemed to be unbroken pieces of metal with a small, oddly shaped indentation on one side. He swore under his breath as his fingers started burning again. Geralt pulled his hand weakly out of Jaskier's grip.

“Enough,” he murmured. “Can't get 'em off without the key.” He blinked his golden eyes open and they were clouded with pain.

“Are they hurting you?”

Geralt swallowed thickly. “They're Dimeritium.” He huffed a breath like speaking required a lot of effort. “They block magic.”

“Is that why they burn? Is there anything else? Are you injured?”

“Poison. Not fatal. Just. . .hn.” Geralt sighed and closed his eyes again.

“Hey. Don't go to sleep,” Jaskier said, feeling desperate as he cupped Geralt's face in his hands. “I need to know what to do.” He was rewarded by Geralt opening his eyes again.

“Where are we?”

“Uh. . . a swamp somewhere. There's a tower. Some trees.” Jaskier looked around but had no idea which way the city was.

“We're in the swamps south of Old Vizima. Western edge of the lake,” Gerard grunted from the cages to their left. Geralt turned his head to regard him.

“Who're you?”

“That's Gerard, and I'm assuming the man in there with him is Alfin,” Jaskier said. “Dimitri's over there,” he said nodding behind him. “Not sure about the girl from the Temple Quarter you mentioned. Didn't get her name.” He sighed. “There's way more than five people here. That Mage has been doing this for a lot longer than a few days.” Now that he was looking more carefully, some of the people in cages weren't moving.

“Mage?”

“Tall. Dark. Turns into a black cloud. Kind of a dick.”

“You're slipping.”

“What?”

“Usually you'd describe him better than dark,” Geralt muttered.

“A poet under pressure is allowed to be somewhat less than poetic.” Jaskier let out a shaky breath. “He got me in the sewers. Went down after you when you didn't come back up,” he said quietly.

Geralt looked up at him and grasped his hand, squeezing his fingers. “You okay?”

“No.” Jaskier squeezed back. “Got jumped by a teleportation cloud. Woke up in a swamp. My clothes are absolutely ruined. I mean really. Does nobody appreciate good tailoring anymore? I'm just-” He broke off as Geralt squeezed his hand again. He was babbling already. That hadn't taken long.

“Mage done anything interesting?” Geralt asked him.

Jaskier hesitated. He wasn't going to tell him how much it had hurt earlier, but Geralt must have seen something in his expression. There was no use trying to tell him nothing happened.

“He's trying to use people to open the tower. Something about inherent magic I think.” Jaskier huffed when Geralt glowered at him. “He wasn't exactly forthcoming with information.” He looked up when the area suddenly started to get darker. Even the moonlight couldn't penetrate the growing blackness. “Shit. He's back.”

The Mage coalesced outside the cage and glared down at him. His face was clean of blood and he seemed to have calmed down. His gaze shifted between him and Geralt in a way Jaskier didn't like.

“I don't know what you did earlier,” he said, his voice cold. “But it best not happen again.”

A sharp stab of pain made Jaskier gasp as his back arched again. He tried not to shift so much that he dumped Geralt back down into the water, but the cloud enveloped the cage again and he ended up back on the dais in front of the tower. But he wasn't alone this time. He could feel the heavy weight of Geralt's torso pressed up against his back by some kind of invisible force that held them like they'd been tied together. The Witcher's breath was rasping and shallow where he slumped against the hold. Twisting around as much as he could, Jaskier saw that Geralt's chin was touching his chest where his head sagged forward.

“Geralt. . .” Jaskier broke off in a pained cry that he couldn't quite stifle. “Stop!” The force of Jaskier's voice stopped the magic again, but this time, Geralt hissed in a sharp breath.

“You'd best stay silent unless you want your Witcher turned inside out,” the Mage hissed.

Jaskier could feel Geralt shifting restlessly behind him. He wasn't making much noise, but the tight, shifting muscles along his back let Jaskier know he was in pain.

“Please stop,” Jaskier pleaded quietly without any force at all.

“Hold still and be quiet and he might live through this.” The Mage gestured and Jaskier felt the tight stab of magic again.

Fuck, it hurt. He clenched his teeth and struggled not to make any noise. Maybe he'd finally get into the tower and leave them alone. Jaskier's heels dug into the cracked stone of the dais as he writhed uncontrollably, and something shifted under his left foot. A hole suddenly opened up beneath them and they landed hard. With no way to roll, the impact sang up Jaskier's spine and settled painfully in his neck.

“Ah, fuck,” Jaskier hissed. Without the Mage to hold the magic, the grip on them eased and Geralt slumped onto his side. Jaskier scrambled around to check on him, afraid that the Mage had hurt him. It was hard to see in the inky gloom, but it seemed like he was still breathing. He was just unconscious again.

Jaskier glanced around as a light suddenly flared around him. A ring of torches around the circumference of a large, round room came to life one by one, brightening the empty interior to almost painful levels after the darkness outside. It was a simple, stone room with a large circle of Malachite set into the center of the floor. Behind him, was a thick wooden door. Were they inside the tower now? There was no evidence of a door from the outside, and there were no stairs that he could see to reach the upper floors. But then again, this room also looked a lot larger than the tower appeared from the outside. The place was practically dripping in magic.

Etched symbols started to glow under the spot where they sat to form an intricate circle of curling purple lines.

“Whoa.” Jaskier remained still as the thrum of magic pushed against him from all sides. He wasn't entirely sure he could pass the circle's edge.

“Who enters the abode of Dyvedo the Devoted?” The low, rumbling voice reverberated in Jaskier's bones.

“Ah. . . shit,” Jaskier breathed as the Malachite circle cracked and rose in ragged chucks to reform into a crude, humanoid figure. Two glowing points of copper light blinked at Jaskier dispassionately. “Identify yourself, you who trespass upon this place.”

“I'm so sorry to disturb you,” Jaskier said, trying not to stumble over his words as he moved closer to Geralt. “I am Jaskier of Lettenhove and this is Geralt of Rivia.”

His knowledge of Golems was so limited. He'd seen them in the bestiaries at Kaer Morhen, but he'd been more interested in the living, breathing monsters of the Continent. Jaskier was suddenly kicking himself for the oversight. He never thought he'd see one.

&*&*&

“Isn't that a monster book?”

“What?”

“Beestie-arr-ayyy. . what you said,” Ciri huffed.”

“It is,” Jaskier said as he shifted his playing into a holding pattern while Ciri interrupted again. “But it lists many things. Not just monsters.”

“Not a monster.”

“Not a monster,” he confirmed. “Golems are Automatons created with Magic from the Elements.”

“But it's not a person.”

“No.”

“So it's a monster.” Ciri seemed really stubborn about this for some reason.

“I suppose,” he said as he stopped playing. “Well, it seems I don't have any stories without monsters in them. I guess that means I must bid you goodnight, then.” He moved to get out of the bed.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Ciri said, snagging his sleeve. “Maybe. . . I don't mind the monsters so much.”

“Are you sure?”

Ciri nodded. “I want to know what happened. What did the Golem do? What did the Mage do?”

“Alight. We're almost to the end,” Jaskier said as he settled and started playing again. “The Golem was not happy to have guests.”

&*&*&

“You do not have leave to enter here,” the Golem said, the depth of its words making the stones beneath Jaskier's knees vibrate.

“It was an accident. There's a Mage trying to get in here-”

“Dyvedo the Devoted is no longer of this world. He is already here.”

“It's not Dyvedo,” Jaskier said. He had no idea who that was or what it meant. “It's someone who's trying to force their way in with magic.”

“The door to this tower cannot be breached by magic alone,” the Golem said, its chest shifting as if it were heaving a weary sigh. “Only one who can speak to the trees with the Heart of a Leshen may pass through the door using the key of stone.”

Jaskier hastily pulled out his pendant and held it up, trying not to wince as the Golem lumbered over and leaned down over him to inspect it. The jagged rocks that made up its body shifted strangely as it moved.

“You possess the key,” it rumbled, sounding puzzled. “You are a guest.”

The circle of symbols faded and Jaskier felt the prickling pressure on him ease. He let out a long sigh of relief and tried to get his heart to slow to a more reasonable beat.

“Um. What am I allowed to do here as a guest?” Jaskier asked, not wanting to accidentally break some rule he didn't know about. He struggled to remember the stories Geralt and the other Witchers had told him and wasn't sure he was getting it right.

“You are allowed entrance to the tower of Dyvedo the Devoted.” It rumbled ominously like it was sighing again. “The Heart of a Leshen is old and wise, given freely yet sparingly. from the Old Forest. Take respite in this place.” It stood aside and Jaskier could see the hole in the floor where the Malachite circle had been. The edges shifted to form stairs leading downwards.

Jaskier stared at the circular stairs for a moment before looking down at Geralt. He wasn't sure what to do. He didn't know if it was safe to leave him here and it didn't feel right to explore on his own. What if he tripped some sort of trap?

“Is there anything dangerous down there?” he asked the Golem.

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He had to be more specific.

“If I go downstairs, are there any traps that will harm me?”

“You are a guest. The warding spells will not harm you,” it said passively.

“Will anything harm Geralt if I leave him here with you?” He didn't want to leave him here, but he had to see if he could get those damned cuffs off. He'd said the poison wasn't fatal, but Jaskier doubted he could heal it like he usually would without magic. Jaskier was still a little sketchy on Witcher biology, but he knew the the mutations were magic based and not just physical changes.

“No harm will come to your companion so long as he does not violate the guest agreement.”

“What's that?”

“Should he try to damage this place or harm anyone here, he will forfeit guest protections.”

“Alright, he won't do that.” Even if he woke up, he doubted Geralt would start swinging without a reason. “Hey.” He shook Geralt's shoulder, trying to get him to wake up so he could tell him what was going on. But the Witcher just lay still on the stones. “Shit.”

Jaskier had no idea what was going on outside the tower right now or what the Mage might be doing. But his first order of business was trying to find a way to get the cuffs off. He couldn't face the mage by himself. Going out the door wasn't really an option right now. So he got up, wincing as his wet boots squelched on the stone and went over to the staircase. The shaft was illuminated all the way down and he could see the floor below. The warm light didn't seem to have a specific source, but the stairs were wide and clean and it would be easy to get down without worrying about slipping and falling over the edge.

When Jaskier emerged into the lower chamber, he saw a well equipped laboratory. He recognized a lot of the equipment from the time he'd spent in Kaer Morhen brewing potions with Eskel. There were neatly labeled jars and bottles on racks built into the wall, displaying a variety of ingredients. Jaskier might look more closely at those later. A side room showed him a clean, but serviceable forge and another had a well equipped pantry and kitchen. It wasn't until he reached the living quarters that he realized what the Golem meant about Dyvedo already being here.

Slumped in a chair by the cold fireplace was a skeleton in crumbling robes. Around its wrists were dark, circles of metal with no clasp. Dimeritium. Luck was suddenly on his side. Beside the chair was a sprawled skeleton in a gown that seemed to be crawling toward the chair, its hand outstretched. The woman had died badly judging by the old, dark stains on the gown and the crushed remains of her torso. Jaskier swallowed and thought of the Golem upstairs. It looked like it had stepped on her.

But at it's bony fingertip, lay a small object. He was betting it might fit the small indentation on Geralt's cuffs. But before he could go over and get it, the ground beneath his feet shook. Was that an explosion?

“The tower is under siege!” the Golem bellowed from upstairs.

Shit.

Chapter Text

Jaskier flinched as the tower shook again. The mage must be trying to get inside by force. Dust fell from the overhead beams and Jaskier wondered if the magic locking this place tight was enough to withstand the assault from outside. He didn't want to stick around and find out.

Stepping carefully over the crushed skeleton of the woman, he picked up the small piece of metal that looked like some sort of lock pick. The oddly-shaped end seemed like it should fit in the small indentation on the cuffs. He hissed as his fingers started burning. It was made of Dimeritium too. Tugging the cuff of his shirt out so he could put the fabric between the metal and his fingers, he tried to create some sort of barrier so it wouldn't hurt. But he swore when it had no effect on the painful burning. He'd just have to deal with it.

As he was going back up the stairs, another boom nearly sent him stumbling and he had to cling to the wall to keep from tumbling down the center of the shaft to the floor below. When he got to the top, Geralt was still where he left him, but the Golem was circling the room, occasionally pausing by the door before moving along its path again. It was severely agitated and it occasionally bellowed at the closed door crying a warning about being under siege. Jaskier winced at the terrible sound.

Kneeling down at Geralt's side, he shifted his shirtsleeves and bracer away so he could get to the cuff around his wrist. He held his breath as he had a sudden, horrible thought that this particular key might not fit these particular cuffs. But it fit the spot and he was able to turn it. He let out a blustery sigh as the cuff popped open and fell away. Jaskier wasted no time unlocking the second one and threw them both down the opening to the stairs.

Geralt sucked in a sudden breath like he was coming up from underwater and opened his eyes. Jaskier could practically feel the Wood's magic entering the Witcher's body again and he leaned down to get a better look at him.

“Are you okay? Can you stand?”

Geralt blinked at him, like he was seeing him for the first time, but his gaze cleared quickly as another shaking boom made the tower shake.

“What the hell?”

“Yeah. About that. So we're inside the tower and the Golem likes me because I got us in with my pendant. Found a key for the cuffs.” Which he'd wanted to keep, but he didn't think he could stand to carry it with them. “But now we're-”

“Attackers! Intruders! The tower is under siege!” the Golem bellowed, cutting him off.

“We know!” Jaskier shouted. “Shut up for a minute.” Surprisingly, the Golem obeyed. It continued its path around the interior wall, but ceased announcing that they were under attack.

Geralt eyed him curiously for a moment before struggling to a sitting position. He huffed a few breaths and Jaskier leaned into support him as he slumped a bit.

“Is the poison still bad?”

“Yeah. Won't be able to clear it quickly without a potion.”

Jaskier started rifling through Geralt's pouches and belt loops, slapping the other man's hands away when he tried to help. But he couldn't find anything. Every pocket had been emptied. “I have no idea where your stuff is. It looks like the Mage confiscated everything.”

The tower shook again and bits of stone started raining down. Jaskier curled himself over Geralt, trying to shield him. Geralt growled and shoved him away as a huge piece of masonry fell. It landed hard on the floor between them, sending shards of rock flying. A sharp pain sliced along Jaskier's forehead and he saw Geralt crumple to the floor as a piece struck him in the temple.

“Dammit,” Jaskier muttered as blood started trickling down over his brow into his right eye. He swiped at it distractedly and he scrambled back over to the fallen Witcher. “Why do you have to be the way you are?” he muttered, fully knowing he could have died if Geralt hadn't shoved him out of the way.

There was groaning crack and Jaskier had seconds to throw himself over Geralt's torso and cover the other man's face with his arms as the door splintered inward. It showered the room in splinters. A chunk of wood hit Jaskier in the back, making him bark out a cry of pain. He glanced up to see the Golem roar out of the destroyed doorway into the swamp. It attacked the startled Mage who apparently hadn't been expecting such active resistance.

Jaskier wasn't quite sure what to do. Again. Staying inside seemed like a bad idea as dust and debris continued to trickle down from above. At this rate, the floor would collapse beneath them and the whole thing would come down. But outside wasn't much better. The Mage was throwing spells as quickly as he could fling his hands out, desperately trying to fend off the Golem that pursued him across the clearing. Jaskier swore as a bolt of Magic struck one of the cages and made it tip over and slam into the mud. The occupants screamed, but once the twisted metal stilled, they were able to squeeze their way out the broken opening. They glanced around before taking off into the swamp at a squelching run. Jaskier hissed in frustration and hoped that there wasn't anything out there that would hurt them.

He weighted his options, but another shaking rumble of the tower decided for him. Jaskier hooked his hands under Geralt's arms and started dragging him towards the door. Gods, he was heavy. It was a gamble between definitely being crushed in the tower or possibly getting hit by the Mage's spells, but there wasn't much of a choice. The Mage screamed and threw out one last blast. It hit the Golem in the chest, blasting it apart into shards of stone the rained down on the clearing. One of the larger ones lodged itself in the Mage's throat and he died choking on his own blood.

Jaskier felt a pulse of magic and the tower started shuddering ominously. He doubled his efforts to get Geralt outside as the stones beneath his feet started to crack. As he pulled him clear of the doorway, the tower started to fall in on itself until it collapsed completely, sending out a huge cloud of dust. He slid down the stairs and collapsed with Geralt half in his lap, coughing and huffing on the dust cloud as the adrenaline surge hit its peak.

“Holy shit,” he huffed.

“Fuck's sake, what happened?” Gerard asked from his cage where it had been knocked over during the fight.

“Ah. Bad guy's dead.”

“I can see that,” the Dwarf huffed. “That sorry excuse for a fuck better have a key to this thing,” he said as he rattled the door.

“I'll look in a sec,” Jaskier said as he sat up. “Just give me a minute.” Setting Geralt carefully down, he stood and moved over to the Mage's corpse. He tried to ignore the bleeding ruin of his throat and was reminded of poor Lord Ferrington. They'd have to tell somebody so they could go down and get the body. He checked the Mage's robes and came up with nothing. What if he didn't have a key? He'd put Jaskier in the cage and took him out of it with magic. He didn't necessarily have to open to the door. But there was a set of keys on a small ring at the bottom of his belt pouch. “These better be the right ones,” he muttered.

Jaskier had a moment of regret as he passed the pile of Malachite that was slowly crumbling into dust. He knew logically that the Golem wasn't alive, but he was sad just the same. It had just been doing its job.

“Sometime today, laddie,” the Dwarf growled.

“Yes, yes.”

Jaskier went over to Gerard's cage and tried a couple of keys until he found the right one. He had to brace himself to lift the heavy door up on its hinges so the Dwarf could crawl out from under it. To Jaskier's surprise, he gently helped Alfin out climb out first. The man was holding his left arm gingerly and he winced every time it got jostled. Jaskier lowered the door and helped Alfin find a comfortable seat before he went to the other cages. Dimitri was huddled in his cage, curled tightly in on himself. He didn't move when Jaskier opened the door.

“It's alright,” Jaskier told him gently. “It's over.”

Dimitri peered out from behind his arm, looking wary. “Can I go home now?”

“As soon as we let everyone out, we're taking you home. Bren's been worried about you.”

“He's okay?” The boy let out a cry of relief and lurched forward to hug him. Jaskier held onto him and felt him shaking. He smoothed a hand over Dimitri's back and waited until he was ready before letting go. Dmitri looked around the clearing nervously, still clearly afraid.

“Can you wait here for me while I get everyone else out?” Jaskier asked him.

“Yeah. Okay.”

“Alright. Just sit tight here with Gerard and Alfin until we're ready to go.” Jaskier went over to Geralt to check on him again and found him blinking his eyes open. “Hey there. Have a nice nap, you ass? That chunk of rock could have killed you.”

Geralt shot him a flat look, but didn't answer. “Is the dick dead?”

“Yup. Golem got it.” Jaskier jingled the keys. “I gotta let everyone else out and then we need to figure out how to get out of here.”

Geralt nodded and winced. “Need to find my swords.”

“Right. One thing at a time.” Jaskier made sure to check every cage even if the occupants were frighteningly still. Some of them were merely weak, or sleeping and he couldn't risk leaving anyone behind. By the time he was done, there were twelve additional people looking around blearily. The girl from the temple quarter was limping but alive. A few of them were from the Outskirts, and a couple were from Lakeside to the south. They chose to leave on their own and started walking towards the trees even when Jaskier asked them if they would be safe.

“Don't worry about them,” Gerard said as he bound up Alfin's arm with sticks and strips of ripped cloth. “They'll be fine. Lakeside folks are a bit more stubborn than most, but they'll find their way.”

That left the four he and Geralt had originally come for plus seven more people in various states of poor health. There was a Halfling, an Elf, and five Humans. They hadn't eaten or had much to drink during their captivity. One of the cages contained everyone's belongings, including Geralt's swords. There was a pile of silver trinkets and everyone quietly picked through it and handed off bits and pieces to their respective owners.

“I wonder why he took these,” Jaskier mused. He blinked when he saw one of his own rings in the pile. He hadn't realized that it had been missing because he'd been so distracted earlier.

“He was mumblin' about interference and the like,” Gerard spat. “Not all of it's here though.”

“Mattis gave your ring to Joline,” Jaskier told him. “It was near where you went missing. And Alfin, your wife has your pendant.”

“Nelly,” he murmured quietly. “She'll be so worried.”

Jaskier plucked up Geralt's swords and brought them over to the Witcher who was looking much more alert. When Jaskier got closer and knelt down next to him, he found himself pulled down into the other man's lap. He sighed and let himself be maneuvered so Geralt could look more closely a the sluggishly bleeding cut on his forehead.

“It's fine,” he murmured. “We're going to see a healer once we take everyone home.” Jaskier brushed his fingers over Geralt's reddened temple. It was going to blacken into a rather impressive bruise by tomorrow. “You okay to walk out of here? I pretty sure I won't be able to carry you,” he said as he was finally allowed to help the other man to his feet.

“Hn.” Geralt rose carefully looked steady enough as he strapped his swords on his back. He scanned the clearing, his eyes setting on the nervous people who were clustered together nearby. They shot him fearful looks and a couple looked ready to bolt.

Jaskier held out a placating hand, hoping that he could calm them down. “It's alright,” he said. “This is Geralt of Rivia.”

“The White Wolf,” one of them murmured with a touch of awe.

“The very same,” Jaskier said with a smile. “I'm Jaskier the Bard and we're going to get you back to Vizima safely. Everybody ready?”

The group visibly calmed and seemed to relax as they started heading north. The clouds had parted to show the stars shining brightly above them. With the exception of the ruined tower and the inherent creepiness of the swamp, it was turning out to be a beautiful night.

“You're not going to sing about this shite, are you?” Gerard asked as they walked along a dryer path above the muck. He helped Alfin keep his feet as he slipped on a slick patch of mud.

“Geralt's is the only name I'll mention, but there is no way I can pass up the opportunity to tell this story.”

“Fuck's sake,” the Dwarf muttered.

&*&*&

“I thought you said this was about Geralt helping people,” Ciri said with a frown. Her eyes were starting to get heavy lidded. He'd have to wrap this up soon.

“It is,” he said. “He rescued sixteen people.”

“No. You rescued sixteen people.”

“But I didn't-” he protested.

“You went after Geralt down into the sewer when he didn't come back even though you were scared. You got into the tower and made friends with the Golem.”

“That's not exactly what happened.”

“And then you got Geralt out of the tower when it broke and you got everybody's stuff after opening all the cages. You saved everyone. Geralt was just kind of. . . there.”

Jaskier bit back a grin and then he sighed. He wanted to share that description of the story with Geralt just to see his grumpy expression. But he sobered as he realized that he probably wouldn't be able to tell him anything again. Ciri cuddled up against his side.

“It's okay. You'll see him again. I've seen it.”

“What?”

Ciri yawned. “Been dreaming about him,” she said sleepily. “Same as when I dreamed of you.”

Jaskier just looked at her and felt his heart beating heavily.

“What happened next?” she asked him.

“Well. . .”

&*&*&

By they time they got to the gates of Old Vizima, it was morning. Joline was riding the fence line of the pasture when she spotted them. Dismounting, she ran over to throw herself at Gerard.

“Oh, my love.”

“Calm yerself, Joly,” he murmured as he held her. “I'm fine.”

When she pulled away and looked at the rest of the group, she nodded at Jaskier and Geralt. “You have my thanks.” She made a small noise in her throat when the Halfling came forward. “Rollo, love,” she said as she drew him in. “Desmona is beside herself.” She led him away while Gerard helped Alfin walk towards town.

The guards at the gate challenged them until the girl from the Temple Quarter limped forward.

“Give it a rest, Dad. I want to go home.”

The man gave a startled cry as he scooped her up, pressing kisses to her temple as she grumbled and pressed into him. Jaskier quickly explained what had happened and gestured to the rest of the people with them who were looking tired and worn.

“Witcher. Come to the guard house later to receive what you're owed for finding those that went missing.”

Jaskier assured him they they would so they could untangle the mess. They have to report Ferrington's body as well, but that would have to be after a meal and a full night's rest. Or day's rest as it were. The sky was lightening with the first kiss of dawn. The rest of the group peeled off one at a time to go home once they got into the city until only Dimitri remained. When they got through the gate to the Trade Quarter, he gasped and stopped in his tracks.

“Bren.”

“Dima!” Bren dropped the bundle of wood he was carrying and came running over as soon as he spotted them.

Jaskier pulled back to allow them to reunite for a moment before stepping in to urge them on. “Alright. We need to get him home to his father.”

“Right, right,” Bren said as he stepped back. He looked like he was going to leave, but Jaskier held his hand out.

“You too. Come with us.”

“But my da. . .” Bren frowned as Dimitri curled an arm around him.

“Fuck yer da. Stay with us.”

“I-” Bren broke off in a small whimper and relented, holding Dimitri close.

It took a few minutes while they apologized and kissed each other fervently, but Jaskier was finally able to get them moving again so they could get to the Dove and Pheasant. When Pavel saw them, he immediately put the tray he was carrying down with a rattling thump and stumbled over to pull his son into a tight embrace. He pulled Bren closer with his other arm.

“You too, boy,” he murmured.

Jaskier put his arm around Geralt's waist. The other man was starting to flag and there was a tightness around his eyes. “We need a healer,” Jaskier said to Pavel.

“Of course, of course,” Pavel said as he gestured to one of the barmaids. “Go get Leander and bring him here.” He turned to Geralt and Jaskier as tears welled in his eyes. “Thank you, thank you. Anything you need, you'll have it.”

“A bath and a meal would be lovely,” Jaskier said before steering Geralt upstairs to their room.

&*&*&

“And everyone lived happily ever after,” Jaskier said as he stopped playing and looked down at Ciri who had finally fallen asleep. He sat there watching her for a few minutes before carefully slipping out of the bed and tucking her in.

He went to his room down the hall and set his lute in its stand. Sitting at the vanity, he looked at himself in the mirror. His hair needed to be trimmed again. It had grown a bit during the summer in Skellige. Ciri's words were stubbornly blossoming into a small kernel of hope that'd he'd been desperately trying to quash over the past several weeks. He hadn't dreamt of Geralt since the night Vernon, the previous steward, had tried to murder him. Jaskier was finally thinking that he'd be able to put the other man behind him so he could move forward with his life.

But Ciri kept bringing him up. And learning that she was dreaming about him was startling. Jaskier didn't want to think about the possibility of seeing Geralt again. It hurt. The hollow ache in his chest flushed again, prickling under the pendant beneath his shirt. He rubbed at the fabric over his heart. Why did he keep doing this to himself? Closing his eyes, he replayed the events of the night following their return to Vizima after the tower had collapsed.

&*&*&

Jaskier woke half sprawled across Geralt's body. The other man was still asleep. It wasn't often that he woke before the Witcher, but after last night it shouldn't have been surprising. Geralt was always a bit lethargic after healing with potions. When he had the time to let them do their job. In the midst of fighting, he had a huge capacity for healing under pressure and ignoring wounds to keep going. But when he had a safe place to heal, he tended to crash pretty hard. Jaskier was glad he was able to recover properly in comfort instead of limping off into the forest to hunker down somewhere.

He'd told Jaskier that he'd once spent three weeks in the woods, unable to reach a settlement to get help after being injured. Geralt had lived off his limited provisions and a handful of potions until he could drag himself out of the forest to get help. Hunting monsters in remote areas was safer for Humans but potentially deadly for Witchers. Jaskier didn't know what would have happened if he hadn't been in the swamp with Geralt last night. The poison hadn't been a fatal dose, but how long would he have lain there in that cage, shackled by cuffs that cut off his magic? Jaskier shuddered and pressed closer. Geralt's arm around his waist tightened.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” Jaskier murmured, listening to Geralt's slow, steady heartbeat under his ear.

“You're worrying again.” Geralt's fingers splayed along Jaskier's hip, kneading the skin there.

“I'm entitled to a bit of worrying.” Jaskier shifted up to brush his lips gently over the ugly bruising along Geralt's temple. In a few days, it would heal like it had been just a gentle tap instead of a life-threatening concussive impact. The healer had done good work and Geralt's capacity for healing was impressive, but it had still be dangerous. “I'm glad I was there.”

“I'm not.” Geralt reached up with his other hand to run his fingers just under the the cut over Jaskier's eye. It had been shallow, but it had bled quite a bit. “All I could see was your blood. I would have killed him for that alone.”

“He didn't do it. The tower started falling to pieces.”

Geralt sighed and shifted to curl around Jaskier, kissing his brow and holding him close. Being wrapped in the other man's arms was a singular sensation that he'd never really found with anyone else before. It was safe and secure and and warm. Their legs tangled together as Geralt found his mouth.

There were things they needed to do today as the last rays of sunlight shone through the curtains over the window. They needed to go to the guard house and make a report and let them know about Ferrington's fate. And they'd have to go retrieve the bodies by the tower so they could be laid to rest. Geralt would probably go with them to make sure that the party they sent bring them back wasn't attacked by necrophages. He'd said it was a miracle that they hadn't been drawn in yet.

But right now, they'd stay right here. Jaskier couldn't imagine being anywhere else. Even when he was endangered by his proximity to Geralt, he didn't want to be parted from him. This was where he was meant to be.

&*&*&

Nearly six years later, Jaskier sat in front of the mirror in Cintra thinking about one night in Vizima where they'd felt so connected and close. The idea that they might be together again in the future was almost infuriatingly enticing. But he didn't want to set himself up for disappointment. Or to contemplate what he was willing to give to make it happen. That would be treading some dangerous ground and he'd have to give up too much. What he had now was too precious to lose. It was best to leave his time with Geralt as a pleasant memory. He'd have to be content with that.