Authors: Patrick Rothfuss

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

The Wise Man's Fear (112 page)

I came back to camp dripping wet and miserable. It turns out the boots I’d bought in Severen didn’t have a lick of waterproofing, so they drank rainwater like sponges. In the evening I could dry them out using the heat of the fire and a little careful sympathy. But as soon as I took three steps they were soaked through again. So on top of everything my feet had been cold and damp for days.

It was our twenty-ninth day in the Eld, and when I came over the tiny ridge that hid our latest camp, I saw Dedan and Hespe sitting on opposite sides of the fire, ignoring each other. Hespe was oiling her sword. Dedan was idly jabbing the ground in front of him with a pointed stick.

I wasn’t in much mood for conversation myself. Hoping the silence held, I went wordlessly to the fire.

Except there was no fire.

“What happened to the fire?” I asked stupidly. What had happened was rather obvious. It had been left to burn down to charred sticks and damp ashes.

“It’s not my turn to get wood,” Hespe said pointedly.

Dedan poked at the dirt with his stick. I noticed the beginnings of a bruise high on his cheek.

All I wanted in the world was a little something hot to eat and ten minutes with dry feet. It wouldn’t make me happy, but it would bring me closer to happy than I’d been all day. “I’m surprised the two of you can piss without help,” I spat.

Dedan glared up at me. “Just what do you mean by that?”

“When Alveron asked me to do this job for him, he implied I would have adults helping me, not a handful of schoolchildren.”

Dedan’s snapped. “You don’t know what she—”

I cut him off. “I don’t care. I don’t care what you’re bickering about. I don’t care what she threw at you. I care that the fire is out. Tehlu above, a trained dog would be more help!”

Dedan’s expression firmed into a familiar belligerence. “Maybe if—”

“Shut up,” I said. “I would rather listen to a jackass braying than waste my time with whatever you’re saying. When I come back to camp I expect fire and a meal. If this is beyond you, I’ll arrange to have some five-year-old come out from Crosson and babysit the both of you.”

Dedan stood. The wind gusted in the trees above us, sending down heavy drops to patter on the ground. “You’re on your way to a meal you won’t be able to stomach, boy.”

His hands clenched into fists, and I reached into my pocket to grip the mommet I had made of him two days ago. I felt my stomach clench in fear and fury. “Dedan, if you take a single step toward me, I will lay such pain on you that you will scream for me to kill you.” I stared him square in the eye. “Right now I am irritated. Do not even think of making me angry.”

He paused, and I could almost hear him thinking of every story he had ever heard about Taborlin the Great. Fire and lightning. There was a moment of long silence as the two of us stared at each other, unblinking.

Luckily, at this point Tempi returned to camp, breaking the tension. Feeling a little foolish, I went to the embers of the fire to see if I could rekindle it. Dedan stomped into the trees, hopefully in search of wood. At this point I didn’t care if it was rennel or not.

Tempi sat by the side of the dead fire. Perhaps if I hadn’t been busy I might have noticed something odd in his movement. Then again, perhaps not. Even for a semieducated barbarian such as myself, the moods of the Adem are difficult to read.

As I coaxed the fire slowly back to life, I began to regret how I had handled things. That thought alone kept me from lashing out at Dedan when he returned with an armload of wet wood and dropped it at the edge of my newly rebuilt fire, scattering it.

Marten came back shortly after I had rebuilt the fire a second time. He settled at the edge of it and spread his hands. His eyes were sunken and dark.

“Feeling any better?” I asked him.

“Loads.” His voice rasped wetly in his chest, sounding worse than it had this morning. I worried about the sound of his breathing, about pneumonia, about fever.

“I can mix you a tea that will make your throat a little easier,” I suggested without much hope. He’d rejected all my offers of help over the last several days.

He hesitated, then nodded. As I was heating the water he had a fit of violent coughing that lasted nearly a minute. If the rain didn’t stop tonight we would have to head into town and wait for him to recover. I couldn’t risk him catching pneumonia or giving away our position to bandit sentries with a coughing fit.

I handed him his tea, and Tempi stirred in his seat by the edge of the fire. “I killed two men today,” he said.

There was a long moment of stunned silence. Rain pattered on the ground around us. The fire hissed and spat.

“What?” I asked incredulously.

“I was attack by two men behind trees,” Tempi said calmly.

I rubbed the back of my neck. “Dammit Tempi, why didn’t you say something before?”

He gave me a level look and his fingers made an unfamiliar circle. “It is not easy to kill two men,” he said.

“Are you hurt?” Hespe asked.

Tempi turned his cool look on her next.
Offended
. I’d misunderstood his previous comment. It wasn’t the fight itself he had found difficult. It was the fact that he had killed two men. “I have needed this time to settle my thought. Also, I wait to when all are here.”

I tried to remember the gesture for
apology
, but had to settle for
sorrow
instead. “What happened?” I asked calmly as I fingered the frayed ends of my patience.

Tempi paused to choose his words. “I was trying to find trail when two men jump out from trees.”

“What did they look like?” Dedan asked, beating me to the question.

Another pause. “One your size, his arms longer than mine, stronger than me but slow. Slower than you.” Dedan’s expression darkened, as if he couldn’t decide if he had been insulted. “The other was smaller and quicker. Both their swords were broad and thick. Edged on both sides. This long.” He held his hands perhaps three feet apart.

I thought the description revealed more about Tempi than the men he fought. “Where did it happen? How long ago?”

He pointed in the direction we had been searching. “Less than one mile. Less than one hour.”

“Do you think they were waiting for you?”

“They weren’t there when I came through,” Marten said defensively. He gave a wet, tearing cough deep in his chest and spat something thick onto the ground. “If they were waiting, they couldn’t have been waiting long.”

Tempi gave an eloquent shrug.

“What sort of armor did they have?” Dedan asked.

Tempi was quiet for a moment, then reached out to tap my boot. “This?”

“Leather?” I suggested.

He nodded. “Leather. Hard, and with some metal.”

Dedan relaxed a bit. “That’s something at least.” He mused, then looked up sharply at Hespe, “What? What was that look you just gave me?”

“I wasn’t looking at you,” Hespe said frostily.

“You were so. You rolled your eyes.” He looked at Marten. “You saw her roll her eyes, didn’t you?”

“Shut. Up.” I snarled at the two of them. Surprisingly, things grew quiet. I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes and gave our situation a moment of uninterrupted thought. “Marten, how much light do we have left?”

He looked up at the slate-colored sky. “About another hour and a half like this,” he rasped. “Enough to track in. Then maybe a quarter hour of bad light after that. The sun will go down quick behind these clouds.”

“Do you feel up to a little more running around today?” I asked.

His grin surprised me. “If we can find these bastards tonight, let’s do it. They’ve kept me tramping around this God-forsaken place long enough.”

I nodded, reached out, and took a pinch of damp ash from the pitifully small fire. I rubbed it between my fingers thoughtfully, then wiped it onto a small rag and tucked it into my cloak. It wouldn’t be a good source of heat, but anything was better than nothing.

“Alright,” I said. “Tempi will lead us to the bodies, then we’ll see if we can trail them back to their camp.” I stood up.

“Whoa!” Dedan said, holding out his hands. “What about us?”

“You and Hespe stay here and guard the camp.” I bit my tongue to keep from adding,
and try to keep the fire from going out
.

“Why? Let’s all go. We can take care of them tonight!” He got to his feet.

“And what if there’s a dozen of them?” I asked in my best scathing tones.

He paused, but didn’t back down. “We’ll have the element of surprise.”

“We
won’t
have the element of surprise if all five of us go tramping around,” I said hotly.

“Why are
you
going then?” Dedan demanded. “It could just be Tempi and Marten.”

“
I’m
going because
I
need to see what we’re up against.
I’m
the one that is going to be making the plan that will get us through this alive.”

“Why should greenwood like you be making the plan at all?”

“We’re losing the light,” Marten interjected wearily.

“Blessed Tehlu, a voice of reason speaks.” I looked at Dedan. “We are going. You are staying. That is an order.”

“An order?” Dedan echoed with dark incredulity.

We eyed each other dangerously for a moment, then I turned and followed Tempi into the trees. Thunder growled through the sky above us. A wind moved through the trees, clearing away the endless drizzle. In its place a steady rain began to fall.

CHAPTER NINETY

To Sing a Song About

T
EMPI LIFTED THE PINE boughs that covered the two men. Laid carefully on their backs, they looked as if they were sleeping. I knelt at the side of the larger one, but before I could get a better look, I felt a hand on my shoulder. Looking back I saw Tempi shaking his head.

“What?” I asked. We had less than an hour of light left. Hunting down the bandits’ camp without getting caught was going to be difficult enough. Doing it in a pitch-black storm would be a nightmare.

“You should not,” he said.
Firm. Serious.
“Troubling the dead is not of the Lethani.”

“I need to know about our enemies. I can learn things from them that will help us.”

His mouth almost frowned,
disapproval.
“Magic?”

I shook my head. “Looking only.” I pointed to my eyes then tapped my temple. “Thinking.”

Tempi nodded. But as I turned back to the bodies, I felt his hand on my shoulder again. “You must ask. They are my dead.”

“You already agreed,” I pointed out.

“Asking is the right thing,” he said.

I took a deep breath. “May I look at your dead, Tempi?”

He nodded once, formally.

I looked over to where Marten was giving his bowstring a careful inspection under a nearby tree. “Do you want to see if you can find their trail?” He nodded and pushed himself away from the tree. “I’d start over there.” I pointed to the south between two ridges.

“I know my business,” he said as he walked off, shouldering his bow.

Tempi took a couple steps away, and I turned my attention to the bodies. One was actually quite a bit larger than Dedan, a great bull of a man. They were older than I had expected, and their hands had the calluses that mark long years of working with weapons. These were not disgruntled farm boys. These were veterans.

“I’ve got their trail,” Marten said, startling me. I hadn’t heard the sound of him approaching over the low susurrus of the falling rain. “It’s clear as day. A drunk priest could follow it.” There was a flicker of lightning across the sky and an accompanying grumble of thunder. The rain started to come down harder. I frowned and pulled the tinker’s sodden cloak tighter around my shoulders.

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