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"Am I disturbing you?"
The witcher turned his head. In the darkness, the vampire's eyes reflected like a wildcat's. He would have been alarmed, had he not been aware of the fact that his appeared the same.
"No."
"That's good," he sighed. "I thought I might be. You gave the impression of wanting to be alone."
"I often give such an impression. Sit, Regis. If you'd like."
The vampire sat. Silence remained between them for some time. From the river now below the hillside, the nocturnal choruses of frogs and whooping of sandcranes could be heard.
"I suppose you'll ask me why I'm sitting out here. Alone, amidst the blackberry brambles, when it's nearly dawnbreak. Instead of sleeping with the rest, in my bedroll under the blanket."
"I might," he agreed. "But such questioning would be, after all, unnecessary. It's obvious why you're sitting here."
"It is?"
"Naturally. You're thinking."
"I am."
"About?" The vampire smiled. With pursed lips, as was his custom.
"Everything. And nothing."
"That is a lot. Anything in particular?"
Geralt paused to decide whether or not he should answer. He didn't take long to.
"The paths we should take. The marshes below us. The woods before us. The cavalry lining the roads. Things of that nature."
Regis nodded. "Indeed. That is a lot to rest on one man's mind."
"One man's mind," Geralt repeated, looking back towards where the rest of their company were sleeping. "On matters that concern not only him."
"You feel anxious. It's understandable. The responsibility of leadership…"
The witcher snorted. "Who said anything about leadership? Do you see a leader in front of you?"
Regis smiled enigmatically, but said nothing.
"Anyways," the witcher said. "You're right. I have a lot to think about. To decide. It's indeed harder now, as you say, because the decisions have stopped affecting only me."
The vampire shrugged. "What's good for the goose is good for the gander."
"That may be, but…"
Geralt turned around fully, watching the company through the brambles. Regis remained at his side. Neither said anything.
After a while, it was Regis who spoke.
"Have you thought," he said softly, "Of asking another for help? Oh, I see you have. No need to treat me to such a look. Yes, you have… Although it's difficult for you to."
"Who should I ask?"
"What a question," Regis smiled. "You have your pick. First, might I suggest, that in your company is only your best friend, of twenty years and maybe more. A balm for your soul. Isn't he?"
"A curious thought," Geralt replied, and despite his stress, a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Because I already tell Dandelion everything. More than everything. Even though he's a blabbermouth. Hmm… Regis, do you know what it is like, when you know someone so well, you know all of their flaws and complications too? And limitations? Like your hand, which you know gets arthritis in the winter?"
Regis stared at him.
"No, I don't. But I can imagine."
Geralt nodded. "And, because… Because he knows me the same way. And he's liable to…"
"Ah, I see. You don't want to worry him."
"I suppose. More like, I don't want to burden him with decision-making. He's already sacrificed enough by coming with me. Being by my side. Devil knows why."
"Perhaps because you are impossible not to follow."
"Perhaps. Well, that's it. And," he sighed, stretching, "I don't think Dandelion would be too keen to help me with mapping out the company's direction. Hah, unless we are planning on following a waterfall up a ravine. Or doubling back the way we came, if only because a juniper brush was worth revisiting because the sun started to set, and the shadow it began to cast from its branches was utterly inspiring."
"You can't fault him for that."
"I don't. It's only his nature. And I have my own. But I'm right, after all."
"You are. Well, if it's a matter of natural expertise, then, you also needn't go without assistance. Knowledge indeed comes in handy, and in matters of navigation, it is essential to understand the earth you traverse and the heavens you travel under. And of all the living creatures in-between. And luckily, we have such knowledge. If you haven't noticed already. I might be missing something, but the last time I checked, we had an absolutely competent woodsman in the company. Or, forgive me, I should say: woodswoman."
Geralt snorted a laugh.
"How did you know, Regis? Because I've already asked Milva for advice. Outside your cottage, in fact, under the full moon. You want to know what she told me?"
"Hmm… I see. There's no need. I can imagine it."
"That was that. Although, I wouldn't refuse her words. When she wants to give me them."
"Right… And…"
Geralt turned his head, glaring.
"We will not talk about the other one."
Regis said nothing, but abided his word.
"Right," he repeated, sighing. "Well, that settles that. I suppose you truly have not one to confide in, to advise you, to impart to you knowledge and forethought. Well. Unfortunate luck, that is. But I suppose that's the roll of the dice, the hand of cards you've been dealt. You will have to remain sitting and thinking alone, with not one beside you to entrust your thoughts to in the darkness. Well, well."
Geralt looked at him. For a long time.
Then he sighed.
"You have made your point, Regis."
"And what point would that be?"
"I need… I would like to… To listen to some advice."
"Oh. Is that so?"
"From someone who understands me and knows me," the witcher continued, "From someone knowledgeable about the heavens and earth, and everything in-between. And from someone…"
Regis listened.
"From someone that I trust."
He nodded.
"Trust," he echoed. "The most important thing."
"Indeed."
"It is difficult to trust," the witcher cleared his throat. "Do you know?"
"I do."
"It's difficult to trust… people."
"And not only people," Regis smiled.
Silence again.
"I understand your hesitation," Regis said thoughtfully after some time. "I understand that it is difficult to trust… someone… something which… was, after all, upon your first meeting, not entirely truthful about who and what they were…"
"Although, no lies were told."
"There are no lies," Regis smiled. "There are only incomplete truths."
"And embellished ballads."
"Naturally."
"A first impression is important, do you know that, Regis?"
"Of course. And… the second impression? Geralt?"
"The second… And the third. Especially when that second stoops to save a girl by ordeal, and the third has divulged all matter of personal secrets. And personal history."
The vampire shrugged.
"Regis," the witcher said suddenly. And seriously. "I do trust you. I don't have any reason not to."
"I—"
"But I am hesitating, I admit it. For good reason. Because," he sighed decisively, "Although I won't scrutinize my friends' motivations, I’m learning to look under their masks."
A pause.
"I trust you," he repeated. "I have reason to. You've been nothing but honorable in my company. But, on the reverse side… I have to ask… what reason do you have, to trust me?"
"Other than the fact that you've been nothing but honorable in my company?"
"I'm serious. Because I don't believe for a second that you… that someone as… as you are… would ever like to prostrate yourself to me. To someone such as I."
"And why not? Oh, I see. Yes…"
"I'm aware," the witcher bowed his head, "I'm aware of what I must look like to you. What I must seem like."
"And that is?"
"A killer," he confessed. "The stench must be unbearable, Regis, I don't know how you're sitting by me now. A vampire's sense of smell is, after all, over twelve-hundred more times sensitive than a human's. I likely… No, I'm certain that I reek of blood, decay. And death."
Regis shrugged.
"That is so. Your hands are especially filthy."
Geralt looked at his hands. He had washed them in the river earlier, leaving them, not to mention underneath his fingernails, pristine. Such was a habit that he picked up when he lived with Yennefer in Vengerberg for a year.
"I assumed as much. Death follows me, Regis."
"Death? Or life?"
"What do you mean?"
"A fighter in an arena might be utterly covered by scars, bathed with blood… but those are only testiment to his survival. And his professionalism. His expertise at his job. They're the signs of experience. Of winning so many fights across his illustrious career. That speaks to his skill and tenacity, don't you think? That is to say, of life. Hmm… There is another thing, too."
Geralt raised an eyebrow.
"It's clear that you don't kill for sport," he smiled. "Only to protect others. To save. Am I correct?"
"You are."
"The amount of blood spilled equals more or less the amount of blood saved."
Geralt nodded. "You're right. So, we're similar."
"Perhaps. In regards to our intentions, how we compose ourselves, decide to act. Although, I'm not certain…"
The smile faded from Regis's face.
"I'm not certain if the proportions measure up."
"Eventually."
"No, Geralt," Regis sighed. "Some debts… Some debts are larger than others."
"I understand. But if only paying a debt bonds you to me…"
"No, it doesn't. That's not all. I… Hmm…"
Geralt listened.
"You said that you couldn't imagine someone such as I lowering myself to you. Oh, forgive me, it was: prostrating myself. Well, I can demonstrate humility. I try to. But, as far as trust and shared values go, you have also proven yourself quite capable of such a feat. Humility, and… respect."
"I have?"
"By the Chotla and the Ina," he smiled. "Underneath the Seven Goats."
"Really?" Geralt was incredulous. "I could have recalled the situation differently…"
"Might you explain?"
Geralt cleared his throat.
"I insulted you."
"Insulted me?" Regis was curious. "How?"
"I put a sword to your neck."
"Oh, that little thing? Why, it wasn't even silver," he laughed.
"Exactly. It was a stupid maneuver. Very stupid."
"It was… endearing," he smiled.
"Forgive me, Regis. I have been waiting to ask, now's as good a time as any. Forgive me, please."
"You did not upset me. But you are forgiven, anyways."
"That's good," he sighed. "For a moment… for a moment, then, by the two riverstreams, I thought you might cut me down for my arrogance. And for the offense. You know, Regis, in some places north of here, drawing a sword on someone is considered a grave offense. Legally. It's authorized by the crown to slay a man for such a thing."
"Sure. But, I repeat, I was not insulted. I was flattered."
"Flattered?"
"But of course. Although, the general knowledge is to pay attention to a man's actions, not his words. For the most part, I agree. But his words, Geralt…"
He smiled again, bowing his head.
"His words, I think, should not be discarded."
"My words?"
"Indeed," he smiled, wagging a finger. "You said some very nice things to me then, Geralt. Why, I hadn't taken you for such a charmer. Such a payer of compliments."
"Compliments? What compliments were those?"
"That that value you might place on me would be, oh, what was it? 'Bloody high.' Ha, ha. Those were your exact words. And a few more than that. Don't you remember?"
Geralt nodded. He also recalled telling Regis to, quote-unquote: 'Scram,' 'Get out of here,' 'Get lost,' and 'Fuck off.'
"I remember."
"'You are no ordinary vampire,' ha, ha. 'I doubt anyone could afford it,'" he repeated in a sweet tone. Geralt seemed to remember his original utterances as having been less than sweet.
He couldn't tell if Regis was testing him again. This conversation could have been another test of his intentions, his words. He could have been mocking him, goading him to repeat what he had said, to make a fool of himself.
But the grin on Regis's face, so wide that the lips could barely hide the fangs, suggested that his pleasure was sincere.
"Well," Geralt sighed. "I do remember. But those weren't compliments. They were the truth."
"Ah," Regis smiled. "Which doesn't take away their charm at all. Do you think, Geralt, that a beautiful woman enjoys being called beautiful any less, for the fact that the compliment is true?"
Geralt immediately recalled nights spent with Yennefer.
"No."
"And," he added, "we might just imagine that beauty intimidates, does it not? And that, just because something is true, does not mean it will be recognized? It is not uncommon for a beautiful woman to befall insult and slander, if only for the reason that she… intimidates the men."
"Intimidates. Good word to use."
"Isn't it?" he smiled. "In the case I describe, it takes a very resolute man, perhaps not unintimidated, but brave, honest, and true, to speak the truth. And tell the woman what he really thinks of her beauty. Oh, not just tell. Declare it. Yes…"
"It does," the witcher agreed. "Because such a lady has equal chances of being flattered and of slapping him."
Regis smiled.
"But why would she? If the man is also beautiful… I mean… ah, that is to say… Pardon me. The metaphor ran away from me. I meant that…"
Geralt watched him with curiosity. This was the first time he had seen Regis lose his words.
"I understood," he said with ease. "It's good to be honest. To tell the truth."
"Yes."
"Let's share more truths, then. Let's… Regis, I'm glad you've joined my company."
"I'm happy to be with you," he nodded. "With them. I'm glad that you have… accepted my company."
"I'm grateful you didn't leave when I asked."
"I am similarly grateful. For I couldn't have left you."
"If you were gone, I'd be lost."
"If I had left, I'd be lost."
"I need you with me."
"I need to be with you. In your company."
"Regis?"
"Yes?"
The two, despite not touching, despite sitting several feet apart, had begun to tremble. Neither knew why.
"Regis, I ask you… Please…"
"Yes, Geralt?"
"Advise me. Help me make decisions. I can't do it alone. You know more than I. You would… you would be aiding me greatly."
As they talked, the sun had risen in the meantime. The Great Yaruga before them began to sparkle, as light began to paint the landscape to their right.
Both of their eyes reflected the sun.
Regis bowed his head.
"I recognize your invitation. And I accept it. Alright. I will give to you everything: my thoughts, cautions, direction… Everything which you would like."
"And wisdom?"
He smiled.
"You appeal to my vanity, again. Of course, certainly. Any wisdom that I possess. It will be yours, Geralt. Ah, limited by… confidentiality, naturally. But everything else. Yes, everything else."
Geralt nodded.
"I thank you."
From behind them, a shout came.
"What are you two doing over there, hey?" Milva called, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. "Picking blackberries?"
Dandelion, who was typically a sleepyhead, bolted up at the mention of food.
"What? Geralt, you traitor! We had just agreed to share them. And Regis, you as well?"
Cahir also rose, but said nothing. However, he did look intrigued by the blackberries.
Geralt sighed. Not without fondness.
"We couldn't resist," he called back.
"Early bird gets the worm," Regis added.
"We'll see about that," Milva said, getting out from under the blanket. Dandelion did similarly, but beat Milva and Cahir over to the brambles, if only for the fact that he did not take the time to roll his bedroll and pillow.
Soon, the brambles were beset upon by the company, who ate their fill of the sweet fruit, alternating the breaking of their fast with goose eggs Milva had discovered the day before. Strangely, she began to complain of nausea halfway through breakfast, excusing herself to run into the bushes. That type of odd occurence would follow them for a while.
Somewhere east, up the riverbed, the bugle call of cranes sounded.
The Sun continued to rise.
The South awaited them.