[All right is practically unreserved praise, and Jaskier laughs at him for it. He can't even admit now that the bird is beautiful, is a feat. A bard making magic birds for his friends. An utterly ridiculous notion.

He has not missed Geralt's eyes following it, and perhaps he even did spy the Witcher feeding it a bit of meat. Only this once with Jaskier not tease him for it.

It's enough to be admired through his bird.]

I'm afraid horses would not be very helpful in the castle when we were skittering about like rats. [He does feel indulgent though, and drunk, and it's enough because it amuses him as well.] Fine! I shall give you a horse. The finest steed in all the land. [He holds his hand over and there a horse builds itself: it is a touch of his magic out of the Horizon, too, because the horse forms from tightly wound vines, a flourish of flowers growing along its back. It stays perfectly balanced on his palm.] Here. A Roach convenient enough to slip into your pocket.

[The horse wickers at them.]