Chapter Text
The inn woke up.
Eskel's eyes were still closed, but slowly, slowly, various sounds crept up to his ears as his mind came back from the blissful black of meditative rest and nestled back into his body. He could distinguish two men making love in the early morning hour, a baby who was crying somewhere two floors below, and heard somebody shouting in the street, and then, the feeling of the mattress he was lying on came back and he opened his eyes, flexed his fingers for a moment, and then sat up.
Juka was still asleep. Her breathing was low, barely noticeable, and she was still lying in the ball-like shape she had curled up into after she had screamed out.
At least she got some rest.
Somebody knocked on the door, and Eskel got up, crossed the room and opened it, finding a jug of water and two thin towels on top of it.
Well, that's more than I got in Novigrad last year.
The Witcher picked up everything, closed the door and poured the water into the basin, then took his shirt off and began to wash. When he heard Juka stir behind him, he turned around, seeing the half-gnome was sitting up and watching him.
“Morning.” He nodded, giving her his small smile, then grabbed one of the towels and began to dry himself off.
“Where did you get all these?”
Eskel picked up his shirt and looked at the young woman over his shoulder. “What are you talking about?”
Juka was sitting up, the blanket curled around her, her hair standing up in various places. “The scars … Where did you get all these?” She licked her lip, her eyes full of something he couldn't quite put his finger on, but free of disgust.
Compassion?
“Witchers live a dangerous life”, he shrugged, examining his shirt and putting it back on, “Souvenirs from previous contracts.”
“They must have hurt a lot.”
“They did. But we heal up fast, like I told you.” He gestured to the basin. “They got us an extra towel. I'll be right back, and then we can see if they have breakfast for us, alright?”
Juka nodded, getting up. “Yes. I'll be quick.”
The Witcher gave her a friendly nod. “Take your time. Need to go down all these stairs, after all.”
Let's see what today brings. Maybe we'll find her a place.
~ ~ ~
“Where are you going today?” Juka pushed her empty plate away and took a swig from her tankard.
The tap room was full, despite the early hour – Merryweather had given them the same table as the night before, but the merchants were sitting close-by, and a few men who had clearly worked during the night were sitting in a corner, their eyes puffy with exhaustion. They were eating what appeared to be servings of the same stew the Witcher and the young woman had been served in the evening.
Eskel ate the last spoonful of porridge – Juka had refused to eat hers and had asked for bread and cheese instead – and set the bowl aside. “Academy. Gotta buy ingredients, and I want to see if they have a public bath that's not too expensive. Why are you asking? You can come with me, if you want – maybe you can find work at the university laundry or somewhere in the kitchens?”
The young woman nodded. “Yes, if I may.” A shy smile spread over her face, then she cleared her throat and her voice became business-like. “I heard that there is a laundry run by dwarves in town, maybe I have a better chance to get employment there, though. And if we are staying longer, I'll try to exchange my coins so I have some … What is the currency here again?”
“Farthings.”
“Yes, that, and-” Juka glanced at two men who were passing their table, whose fingertips were touching briefly for a moment, before they went to join the merchants at the table, “I also wanted to find the local Melitele shrine.”
Oh?
The Witcher furrowed his brow. “You worship Melitele?”
Never would have thought.
“Well – she is the goddess of families and she protects women, so – yes. I- I may go, right?”
Eskel gave her his small smile and drank from his tankard. “I know who Melitele is. I was just surprised. But sure, yes, if we pass a shrine, you can go and pray. I'll go and look for ingredients then.”
“Good.”
The possibility of asking her if the desire to worship the patron of families sprang from last night's nightmare crossed Eskel's mind, but he dismissed it and emptied his tankard.
None of my business anyway.
“And …”
“Yes?”
The young woman licked her lips. “I … I'd like to see Apolonius before we go. I'll be quick! But I just ...”
Probably because of her nightmare last night.
The Witcher nodded. “I wanted to check on Scorpion anyway – see if he has everything. So, shall we go?”
He set the tankard aside at Juka's nod. “Very well, then-”
“Excuse me.”
Eskel looked up. Merryweather's wife was standing at the table, holding a small bundle of cloth in her hands. She wasn't looking at him, but held the bundle out to Juka. She wasn't exactly smiling, but her expression was definitely softer than the night before.
“I thought that this might be of use to you.”
Juka, a surprised look on her face, took the cloth and unfolded it – it was a simple, longsleeved shirt, made of roughly spun, undyed grey wool and, as Eskel noticed, patched at the elbows.
“I-” She looked up to the woman, “Thank you! I-”
“It belonged to one of our former stable boys”, Merryweather's wife interrupted her, “he outgrew it, but it should keep you warm enough and-”, she glanced at Juka's shirt, “I thought you would like a spare item of clothing to change into, since you said you didn't have anything else.”
Juka stood up and bowed. “Thank you, Mrs Merryweather”, she said, “thank you for your kindness. I will never forget it, and if I can repay you-”
“There is no need.”
There is real warmth in her smile now. She means it, even if it's just charity.
The innkeep's wife began to clear the table. “It will be a while before Damian would be able to wear it anyway. Also, your talk has had an impact on Joanna. She has picked up her spindle without whining this morning, and her behaviour is overall much better. I thank you for it.”
Juka bowed her head. “I am glad I could help”, she replied, returning the smile, “but I really just gave her a little bit of advice. Her grandmother has to take the greater credit, I am sure.”
“What happened to the stable, boy, if I may ask?” Eskel was looking up to Merryweather's wife, pushing his empty tankard towards her and stood up. “Why did he quit?”
The smile was wiped from the woman's face instantly. “To join the army, of course”, she said quietly. “He was a good boy – a little slow, but kind and hardworking. His father was a friend of my husband – he was a merchant, but he got killed on one of his travels by bandits. His mother died of a broken heart. They had three children, but nobody wanted the boy; so we took him in last year.”
“I am sorry to hear that. How long has the boy been gone now?”
“Half a year, I think.”
Eskel nodded. “I hope he is well, wherever he is.”
Now Merryweather's wife looked at him openly. She nodded. “I hope he is, Master Witcher. I dearly hope he is.”