The Wise Man's Fear (109 page)

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Authors: Patrick Rothfuss

Tags: #Mercenary troops, #Magicians, #Magic, #Attempted assassination, #Fairies, #Fiction, #Fantasy, #General, #Heroes, #Epic

BOOK: The Wise Man's Fear
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The female mercenary bristled. “You swaggercock,” she spat. “I’ll show you what a woman can do in a fight.”
Tempi nodded politely.
His continuing lack of concern began to relax me. I had heard the stories, of course, a single Adem mercenary defeating a dozen regular soldiers. Could Tempi really fight off these three at the same time? He certainly seemed to think so. . . .
Tempi looked at them. “This is my first fight of this sort. How does begin?”
My palm started to sweat where I gripped the knife.
Tam stepped up so their chests were only inches apart. He loomed over Tempi. “We’ll start by whipping you bloody. Then we’ll give you a kicking. Then we’ll come round and do it agin to make sure we didn’t miss anything.” As he said the last, he slammed his forehead down into Tempi’s face.
My breath caught in my chest, and before I could get it back, the fight was over.
When the bearded mercenary snapped his head forward, I had expected to see Tempi reel backward, nose broken and gushing blood. But Tam was the one who staggered backward, howling and clutching at his face, blood spurting from beneath his hands.
Tempi stepped forward, got his hand on the back of the big man’s neck, and spun him effortlessly into the ground where he landed in a messy tangle of arms and legs.
Without a hint of hesitation, Tempi turned and kicked the blonde woman squarely in the hip, making her stagger. While she was reeling, Tempi punched her sharply in the side of the head, and she folded bonelessly to the ground.
That’s when the bald man stepped in, arms spread like a wrestler. Quick as a snake, he got one hand on Tempi’s shoulder and the other on his neck.
I honestly can’t say what happened next. There was a flurry of movement, and Tempi was left gripping the man’s wrist and shoulder. The bald man snarled and struggled. But Tempi simply twisted the man’s arm until he was bent over, staring at the floor. Then Tempi kicked the man’s leg out from under him, sending him tumbling to the ground.
All in less time than it takes to tell it. If I hadn’t been so stunned, I would have burst into applause.
Tam and the woman lay with the dead stillness of those deeply unconscious. But the bald man snarled something and began to make his way unsteadily back to his feet. Tempi stepped close, struck him in the head with casual precision, then watched the man slump limply to the ground.
It was, I thought idly, the most polite punch I’d ever seen. It was the careful blow of a skilled carpenter pounding a nail: hard enough to drive it fully home, but not so hard as to bruise the wood around it.
The room was very quiet in the aftermath. Then the tall man who had refused to fight raised his mug in salute, spilling a little. “Good on you!” he said loudly to Tempi, laughing. “Nobody will think less of you if you show Tam a bit of your boot while he’s down there. Lord knows he’s done it enough in his day.”
Tempi looked down as if considering it, then shook his head and walked quietly back to our table. All eyes were still watching him, but the looks weren’t nearly as dark as before.
Tempi came back to the table. “Did you watch my back?”
I looked up at him blankly, then nodded.
“What did you see?”
Only then did I understand what he really meant. “Your back was very straight.”
Approval
. “Your back is not straight.” He held up a flat hand, tilted to one side. “That is why you stumble in the Ketan. It is . . .” Looking down, he trailed off, having noticed my knife half-concealed in my tatty cloak. He frowned. Actually frowned with his face. It was the first time I’d seen him do it, and it was amazingly intimidating.
“We will speak on this later,” he said. At his side, he gestured:
Vast disapproval.
Feeling more chastised than if I’d spent an hour on the horns, I ducked my head and put the knife away.
 
We had been walking quietly for hours, our packs heavy with supplies, when Tempi finally spoke. “There is a thing I must teach you.”
Serious
.
“I am always glad to learn,” I said, making the gesture I hoped meant
earnest.
Tempi walked to the side of the road, set down his heavy pack, and sat on the grass. “We must speak of the Lethani.”
It took all my control to not burst out into a sudden, giddy smile. I had been wanting to bring up the subject for a long while, as we were much closer than when I’d first asked him. But I hadn’t wanted to risk offending him again.
I sat quietly for a moment, partly to maintain my composure, but also to let Tempi know I was treating this subject with respect. “The Lethani,” I repeated carefully. “You said I must not ask of it.”
“You must not then. Now perhaps. I . . .”
Uncertain.
“I am pulled many ways. But now asking is.”
I waited for another moment to see if he would continue on his own. When he didn’t, I asked the obvious question. “What is the Lethani?”
Serious.
Tempi looked at me for a long moment, then suddenly burst out laughing. “I do not know. And I cannot tell you.” He laughed again.
Understatement.
“Still we must speak of it.”
I hesitated, wondering if this was one of his strange jokes that I could never seem to understand.
“Is complicated,” he said. “Hard in my own language. Yours?”
Frustration.
“Tell me what you know of the Lethani.”
I tried to think of how I could describe what I’d heard of the Lethani using only the words he knew. “I heard the Lethani is a secret thing that makes the Adem strong.”
Tempi nodded. “Yes. This is true.”
“They say if you know the Lethani, you cannot lose a fight.”
Another nod.
I shook my head, knowing I wasn’t getting my point across. “They say the Lethani is a secret power. Adem keep their words inside.” I made a gesture as if gathering things close to my body and hoarding them. “Then those words are like wood in a fire. This word fire makes the Adem very strong. Very fast. Skin like iron. This is why you can fight many men and win.”
Tempi looked at me intently. He made a gesture I didn’t recognize. “That is mad talking,” he said at last. “Is that the correct word? Mad?” He stuck out his tongue and rolled his eyes, wiggling his fingers at the side of his head.
I couldn’t help but laugh nervously at the display. “Yes. Mad is the word. Also crazy.”
“Then what you have said is mad talking and also crazy.”
“But what I saw today,” I said. “Your nose did not break when struck with a man’s head. That is no natural thing.”
Tempi shook his head as he climbed to his feet. “Come. Stand.”
I stood, and Tempi stepped close to me. “Striking with the head is clever. It is quick. Can startle if opponent is not ready. But I am not not ready.”
He stepped closer still, until we were almost touching chests. “You are the loud man,” he said. “Your head is hard. My nose is soft.” He reached out and took hold of my head with both his hands. “You want this.” He brought my head down, slowly, until my forehead pressed his nose.
Tempi let go of my head. “Striking with the head is quick. For me, little time. Can I move?” He moved my head down as he pulled away, and this time my forehead came into contact with his mouth instead, as if he were giving me a kiss. “This is not good. The mouth is soft.”
He tipped my head back again. “If I am very fast . . .” He took a full step back and brought my head down farther, until my forehead touched his chest. He let me go and I stood back up. “This is still not good. My chest is not soft. But this man has a head harder than many.” His eyes twinkled a little, and I chuckled, realizing he had made a joke.
“So.” Tempi said, stepping back to where we were before. “What can Tempi do?” He motioned. “Strike with the head. Slow. I show.”
Vaguely nervous, I brought my head down slowly, as if trying to break his nose.
Matching my slow speed, Tempi leaned forward and tucked his chin a bit. It wasn’t much of a change, but this time as I brought my head down, my nose met the top of his head.
Tempi stepped back. “See? Cleverness. Not mad-thinking word fire.”
“It was very fast,” I said, feeling slightly embarrassed. “I could not see.”
“Yes. Fighting is fast. Train to be fast. Train, not word fire.”
He gestured
earnest
and met my eye, a rarity for him. “I tell this because you are the leader. You need the knowing. If you think I have secret ways and iron skin . . .” He looked away, shaking his head.
Dangerous
.
We both sat back down next to our packs.
“I heard it in a story,” I said by way of explanation. “A story like we tell around the fire at night.”
“But you,” he pointed to me. “You have fire in your hands. You have . . .” He snapped his fingers, then made a gesture like a fire roaring up suddenly. “You have the doing of this, and you think the Adem have word fires inside?”
I shrugged. “That is why I ask of the Lethani. It seems mad, but I have seen mad things be true, and I am curious.” I hesitated before asking my other question. “You said who knows the Lethani cannot lose a fight.”
“Yes. But not with word fires. The Lethani is a type of knowing.” Tempi paused, obviously considering his words carefully. “Lethani is most important thing. All Adem learn. Mercenary learn twice. Shehyn learn three times. Most important. But complicated. Lethani is . . . many things. But nothing touched or pointed to. Adem spend whole lives thinking on the Lethani. Very hard.
“Problem,” he said. “It is not my place to teach my leader. But you are my student in language. Women teach the Lethani. I am not such. It is part of civilization and you are a barbarian.”
Gentle sorrow
. “But you want to be civilization. And you have need of the Lethani.”
“Explain it,” I said. “I will try to understand.”
He nodded. “The Lethani is doing right things.”
I waited patiently for him to continue. After a minute, he gestured,
frustration
. “Now you ask questions.” He took a deep breath and repeated. “The Lethani is doing right things.”
I tried to think of an archetypical example of something good. “So the Lethani is giving a hungry child food to eat.”
He made the wavering motion that meant,
yes and no.
“The Lethani is not doing a thing. Lethani is the thing that shows us.”
“Lethani means rules? Laws?”
Tempi shook his head. “No.” He gestured to the forest around us. “Law is from outside, controlling. It is the . . . the horse mouth metal. And the head strings.”
Questioning
.
“Bridle and bit?” I suggested. Motioning as if pulling a horse’s head about with a pair of reins.
“Yes. Law is bridle and bit. It controls from outside. The Lethani . . .” He pointed between his eyes, then at his chest. “. . . lives inside. Lethani helps decide. Law is made because many have no understanding of Lethani.”
“So with the Lethani a person does not need to follow the law.”
Pause. “Perhaps.”
Frustration
. He drew out his sword and held it parallel to the ground, its edge pointing up. “If you were small, walking this sword would be like the Lethani.”
“Painful for feet?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood a bit.
Amusement
.
Anger. Disapproval
. “No. Difficult to walk. Easy to fall on one side. Difficult to stay.”
“The Lethani is very straight?”
“No.” Pause. “What is it called when there is many mountain and one place for walking?”
“A path? A pass?”
“Pass.” Tempi nodded. “The Lethani is like a pass in the mountains. Bends. Complicated. Pass is easy way through. Only way through. But not easy to see. Path that is easy much times not go through mountains. Sometimes goes nowhere. Starve. Fall onto hole.”
“So the Lethani is the right way through the mountains.”

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