Research You

The magistrate scratched his face in confusion and said, "Why the sudden question? No, Geralt. There is no one like that here. If there were, those gossiping women would have worn his doorstep down by now."

"Right, thank you." The witcher nodded, standing up to leave. Kaldimien hurriedly grabbed him and asked, "Can you stay in Blaviken for a while? You have to pass the winter anyway, why not stay with me? There's an empty room in the attic—why hand yourself over to those treacherous innkeepers to be fleeced? We can chat; I'm quite curious about your fresh experiences traveling the world these past two years."

"I'd love to, but what would Liboshi think? She was clearly lukewarm toward me last time."

"Bah! In our house, a woman's words don't count. But between us, don't you ever do what you did last time again."

"You mean the time I threw a fork at a rat?"

"No, I mean the fact that you actually skewered it."

"Isn't that interesting?"

"It is! But she doesn't think so. Don't do that in front of Liboshi. We're counting on her to cook our meals. Also, this—what do you call it, the thing at the door?"

"Kikimore."

"Do you still have use for it?"

"What would I need it for? If there's no bounty, just throw it into the cesspit."

"Not a bad idea. Hey! Kareka, Borg, Kairepeibu! Are you there?"

A town guard carrying a halberd walked in, the sharp blade scraping the doorframe and leaving a mark. But no one noticed except Geralt.

"Kairepeibu, find someone to take that donkey, then throw the Kikimore on its back into the cesspit. Understand?"

"Yes, sir. But... Magistrate—"

"What?"

"Perhaps before throwing this terrifying monster into the cesspit—"

"Well?"

"We could take it to Master Iliom. He might have a use for it."

Kaldimien slapped his forehead.

"You've got a brain, Kairepeibu. Listen, Geralt, maybe our local mage will trade something for this carcass. Fishermen often bring him the strangest fish—like the Octopus Monster, Klebart Fish, and Helong Fish. Many have made a fortune this way. Come, let's go to the tower."

"Wait, you actually found yourself a mage? Is he staying for good, or just passing through?"

"Staying. His name is Iliom, and he's lived in Blaviken for a year. He's a powerful sorcerer, Geralt, you can tell just by looking at him."

"I highly doubt a powerful mage would pay for a Kikimore," Geralt made a face. "As far as I know, no alchemy recipe requires it as an ingredient. Needless to say, your Iliom will humiliate me; we witchers and mages have never gotten along well."

"I've never heard of Master Iliom humiliating anyone. Of course, I can't swear he'll pay you, but there's no harm in trying. What if there are more Kikimores in the swamp? Just in case, let the sorcerer take a look at this monster, then go cast some spells over by the marsh."

The witcher pondered for a moment. "Alright, Kaldimien. But I have some other things to do, so why don't you tell me where the tower is, and I'll head over later myself."

"It's right next to the town center, built of granite, very conspicuous."

"Got it, thanks, Kaldimien. See you at the tavern tonight, or the Golden Court?"

"Of course! Just you wait for tonight, I've won quite a lot at Gwent these past two years!"

The witcher let out a low chuckle and turned to walk out the door. The donkey remained there, guarded by two soldiers. As they drove away the crowd trying to gather around, they stole glances at the Kikimore themselves. The Tuna Tavern was not far from the magistrate's house, so he let the poor horse rest a little longer. Geralt walked slowly along the muddy road and soon reached the tavern entrance.

He pushed the door open to find the man in the black robe sitting in a corner, drinking alone with his back to him. Geralt scanned the room; the tavern was quiet at midday, with almost no one around. The bartender saw him enter but said nothing, merely continuing to look down and wipe a thick wooden mug.

Geralt sat down opposite the man, his sword hilt clattering against the bench with a dull thud. The man smiled and extended a slender, fair hand to shake his, not minding the stains on the witcher's gloves.

"Hello, may I ask your name?"

"Geralt." The witcher's raspy voice carried undisguised vigilance.

The man maintained a polite smile and introduced himself: "My name is He Shenyan, which might be a bit of a mouthful for you. So, just call me He."

Geralt nodded and said, "Alright, He. What do you want with me?"

The man's eyes lit up. He pondered for a moment and said with a smile, "It's like this, Mr. Geralt. I would like to hire you to assist me in completing a study, for a generous reward."

As he spoke, he pulled a long gold bar from his robe sleeve. Geralt's eyes remained fixed on the gold bar for a long time, unable to look away. He swallowed to moisten his dry throat and said, "What kind of study? I'll state this upfront: I won't take any overly dangerous commissions."

"You."

For a moment, Geralt thought he had misheard. But he quickly stood up and said coldly, "I'm sorry, I refuse."

"No, no, no, you must have misunderstood something." The man who called himself He stood up and extended a hand to block Geralt's path, still smiling: "It's not about making you drink potions or dissecting you or anything like that. I just want to follow you for a while to observe you, that's all. Aren't you a witcher? Forgive me, I don't pronounce that word very well. I mean, I just want to see how you kill those monsters."

They sat back down at the table, and the man poured Geralt a drink, but he had no intention of drinking it.

"I don't understand," the witcher said sullenly.

"What?"

"In my experience, mages usually aren't this patient when communicating with us."

"Us?"

"Witchers."

"Ah, yes. You can think of me as a slightly different kind of mage." As he said this, his smile vanished, but it quickly returned to his handsome face. Geralt found he couldn't see through what this man was after at all.

"No, I mean, if you have any requests for us, you usually just state them directly. Instead of trading."

"Interesting. Do you have some sort of pact with the mages? Are you obligated to do their bidding?"

"No, but you are far stronger than us."

"On that point, I reserve my judgment."

Perhaps not far stronger, He Shenyan thought silently to himself.

"In any case, the terms of the deal are simple, Geralt. I ask for nothing else. You need not sacrifice anything, nor do you need to bleed or sweat. I merely wish to observe while you work. What do you say?"

He placed the gold bar on the table and slid it toward Geralt.

The witcher gave a wry smile in his heart. How am I supposed to refuse? I can't beat you anyway, and besides, at least there's money to be made.

He accepted the gold bar, and the two shook hands once more. "Deal."

Geralt did not touch his drink until they had left the tavern.