The Wise Man's Fear (180 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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She smiled. “Would you like some company?”
I gave her a frank look. “You must know the answer to that.”
Denna blushed a little and looked away. “I suppose I do.”
When she looked down her hair cascaded off her shoulders, falling around her face. It smelled warm and rich, like sunshine and cider. “Your hair,” I said. “Lovely.”
Surprisingly, she blushed even deeper at this and shook her head without looking up at me. “That’s what we’ve come to after all this time?” she said, darting a look up at me. “Flattery?”
It was my turn to be embarrassed, and I stammered. “I ... I wouldn’t . . . I mean, I would . . .” I took a breath before reaching out to lightly touch a narrow, intricate braid, half-hidden in her hair. “Your braid,” I clarified. “It almost says
lovely
.”
Her mouth made a perfect “o” of surprise, and one hand went self-consciously to her hair. “You can read it?” she said, her voice incredulous, her expression slightly horrified. “Merciful Tehlu, isn’t there anything you don’t know?”
“I’ve been learning Yllish,” I said. “Or trying to. It’s got six strands instead of four, but it’s almost like a story knot, isn’t it?”
“Almost?” she said. “It’s a damn sight more than almost.” Her fingers plucked at the piece of blue string at the end of her braid. “Even Yllish folk barely know Yllish these days,” she said under her breath, plainly irritated.
“I’m not any good,” I said. “I just know some words.”
“Even the ones that do speak it don’t bother with the knots.” She glared sideways at me. “And you’re supposed to read them with your fingers, not by looking at them.”
“I’ve mostly had to learn by looking at pictures in books,” I said.
Denna finally untied the blue string and began to unfurl the braid, her quick fingers smoothing it back into her hair.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I said. “I liked it better before.”
“That’s rather the point, isn’t it?” She looked up at me, tilting her chin proudly as she shook out her hair. “There. What do you think now?”
“I think I’m afraid to give you any more compliments,” I said, not exactly sure what I’d done wrong.
Her demeanor softened a bit, her irritation fading. “It’s just embarrassing. I never expected anyone to be able to read it. How would you feel if someone saw you wearing a sign that said, ‘I am dashing and handsome’?”
There was a pause. Before it could grow uncomfortable, I said, “Am I keeping you from anything pressing?”
“Only Squire Strahota.” She made a negligent gesture toward her departed escort.
“Pressing, was he?” I gave a half-smile, raising an eyebrow.
“All men press, one way or another,” she said with mock severity.
“They’re still keeping to their book then?”
Denna’s expression grew rueful and she sighed. “I used to hope they’d disregard the book with age. Instead I’ve found they’ve merely turned a page.” She held up her hand, displaying a pair of rings. “Now instead of roses they give gold, and in the giving they grow sudden bold.”
“At least you’re being bored by men of means,” I said consolingly.
“Who wants a mean man?” she pointed out. “Little matter if his wealth is above or below the board.”
I laid a gentling hand on her arm. “You must forgive these men of mercenary thought. These poor, rich men who, seeing that you can’t be caught, attempt to buy a thing they know cannot be bought.”
Denna applauded delightedly. “A plea of grace for enemies!”
“I merely point out that you yourself are not above the giving of gifts,” I said. “As I myself well know.”
Her eyes hardened, and she shook her head. “There is a great difference between a gift given freely, and one that’s meant to tie you to a man.”
“There’s truth to that,” I admitted.“Gold can make a chain as easily as iron. Still, one can hardly blame a man who hopes to decorate you.”
“Hardly,” she said with smile that was both wry and weary. “Many of their suggestions are rather indecorous.” She looked at me. “What of you? Would you have me decorated or indecorous?”
“I have given some thought to that,” I said with a secret smile, knowing I had her ring tucked safely away in my room at Anker’s. I made a show of looking her over. “Both have their merits, but gold is not for you. You are too bright for burnishing.”
Denna gripped my arm and squeezed it, giving me a fond smile. “Oh my Kvothe, I’ve missed you. Half the reason I came back to this corner of the world was in the hope of finding you.” She stood and held out her arm to me. “Come, take me away from all this.”
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-EIGHT
 
The Stories of Stones
 
O
N THE LONG RIDE back to Imre, Denna and I spoke of a hundred small things. She told me about the cities she had seen: Tinuë, Vartheret, Andenivan. I told her about Ademre and showed her a few pieces of hand-language.
She teased me about my growing fame, and I told her the truth behind the stories. I told her how things had fallen out with the Maer, and she was properly outraged on my behalf.
But there was much we didn’t discuss. Neither of us mentioned how we’d parted ways in Severen. I didn’t know if she had left in anger after our argument, or if she thought I had abandoned her. Any question seemed dangerous. Such a discussion would be uncomfortable at best. At worst it might reignite our previous argument, and that was something I was desperate to avoid.
Denna carried her harp with her, as well as a large traveling trunk. I guessed her song was finished, and she must be performing it. It bothered me that she would play it in Imre, where countless singers and minstrels would hear and carry it out across the world.
Despite this, I said nothing. I knew that would be a hard conversation, and I needed to pick the time for it carefully.
Neither did I mention her patron, though what the Cthaeh had told me preyed on my mind. I thought on it endlessly. Had dreams about it.
Felurian was another matter we didn’t discuss. For all the jokes Denna made about my rescuing bandits and killing virgins, she never mentioned Felurian. She must have heard the song I’d written, as it was much more popular than the other stories she seemed to know so well. But she never mentioned it, and I was not enough of a fool to bring it up myself.
So as we rode there were many things unspoken. The tension built in the air between us as the road jounced away beneath the cart’s wheels. There were gaps and breaks in our conversation, silences that stretched too long, silences that were short but terrifyingly deep.
We were trapped in the middle of one of those silences when we finally arrived in Imre. I dropped her off at the Boar’s Head, where she planned to take rooms. I helped her carry her trunk upstairs, but the silence was even deeper there. So I skirted hastily around it, bid her a fond farewell, and fled without so much as kissing her hand.
 
That night I thought of ten thousand things I could have said to her. I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep until the deep, late hours of night.
I woke early, feeling anxious and uneasy. I had breakfast with Simmon and Fela, then went to Adept Sympathy where Fenton beat me handily three duels in a row, setting him in the top rank for the first time since I’d returned to the University.
With no other classes, I bathed and spent long minutes looking through my clothes before deciding on a simple shirt and the green vest Fela said set off my eyes. I worked my shaed into a short cape, then decided not to wear it. I didn’t want Denna thinking of Felurian when I came to call.
Lastly, I slipped Denna’s ring into my vest pocket and set off across the river to Imre.
Once at the Boar’s Head I hardly had a chance to touch the door handle before Denna opened it and stepped out onto the street, handing me a basket lunch.
I was more than slightly surprised. “How did you know. . .?”
She wore a pale blue dress that flattered her and smiled winsomely as she linked arms with me. “Woman’s intuition.”
“Ah,” I said, trying to sound wise. The nearness of her was almost painful. The warmth of her hand on my arm, the smell of her like green leaves and the air before a summer storm. “Do you know where we are bound as well?”
“Only that you will take me there.” When she spoke she turned to face me, and I felt her breath against the side of my neck. “I gladly leave my trust in you.”
I turned to face her, thinking to say one of the clever things I’d thought of last night. But when I met her eyes all words left me. I was lost in wonder, for how long I cannot even guess. For a long moment I was wholly hers. . . .
Denna laughed, jogging me from a reverie that might have stretched a moment or a minute. We made our way out of town, talking as easily as if there had never been a thing between us but sunlight and spring air.
I led her to a place I’d found earlier that spring, a small dell sheltered by the backs of trees. A stream meandered past a greystone that lay lengthwise on the ground, and the sun shone on a field of bright daisies stretching their faces to the sky.
Denna caught her breath when we crested the ridge and saw the carpet of daisies open out in front of her. “I’ve waited a long time to show these flowers how pretty you are,” I said.
That won me an enthusiastic embrace and a kiss burning on my cheek. Both were over before I knew they’d begun. Bemused and grinning, I led the way through the daisies to the greystone near the stream.
I removed my shoes and socks. Denna kicked off her shoes and tied up her skirts, then she ran to the center of the stream until the water rose past her knees.
“Do you know the secret of stones?” she asked as she reached into the water. The hem of her dress dipped into the stream, but she seemed unconcerned.
“What secret is that?”
She drew up a smooth, dark stone from the stream bed and held it out to me. “Come see.”
I finished cuffing up my pants and made my way into the water. She held up the dripping stone. “If you hold it in your hand and listen to it . . .” She did so, closing her eyes. She stood still for a long moment, her face turned upward, like a flower.
I was drawn to kiss her, but I resisted.
Finally she opened her dark eyes. They smiled at me. “If you listen close enough it will tell you a story.”
“What story did it tell you?” I asked.
“Once there was a boy who came to the water,” Denna said. “This is the story of a girl who came to the water with the boy. They talked and the boy threw the stones as if casting them away from himself. The girl didn’t have any stones, so the boy gave her some. Then she gave herself to the boy, and he cast her away as he would a stone, unmindful of any falling she might feel.”
I was quiet for a moment, not sure if she was done. “It’s a sad stone then?”
She kissed the stone and dropped it, watching as it settled to the sand. “No, not sad. But it was thrown once. It knows the feel of motion. It has trouble staying the way most stones do. It takes the offer that the water makes and moves sometimes.” She looked up at me and gave a guileless smile. “When it moves it thinks about the boy.”
I didn’t know what to make of the story, so I tried to change the subject. “How did you learn to listen to stones?”
“You’d be amazed the things you hear if only you take time to listen.” She gestured to the streambed strewn with stones. “Try it.You never know what you might hear.”
Not sure what game she was playing at, I looked around for a stone, then cuffed up my shirt sleeve and reached into the water.
“Listen,” she prompted earnestly.
Thanks to my studies with Elodin, I had a high tolerance for the ridiculous. I held the stone to my ear and closed my eyes. I wondered if I should pretend to hear a story.
Then I was in the water, wet to the skin and spitting it. I spluttered and struggled to my feet while Denna laughed so hard she doubled over at the waist, barely able to stand.

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