Her hand wraps tightly around his. He's frowning at her, waiting for her to gather her thoughts even as he's working through her own. Both options carry their risks. Riding back keeps them out of the city for another several weeks, perhaps longer. Geralt vanishes often, but two months is a long time, even for him. They'll realize—and it'll be that much harder to explain once he does return. Not to mention Julie, who hasn't exactly made of habit of disappearing like he has.

Though at least she isn't the only petite pink-haired woman in the city anymore. Perhaps that'll help.

But there's no telling what this portal will do or where it'll go if she creates one. Even so, he wants to trust her magic. And he's willing to put his faith in its unpredictability when the alternative is that their disappearances will most certainly be noticed if they remain in the desert much longer.

He reaches for her other hand, focusing on her once more.

"You can," he replies. Her strength lies in creation. She's been conjuring objects and elements from the beginning. "You can make nearly anything from nothing. A portal is just a door. You've walked through dozens of them."