Read The Wise Man's Fear Online
Authors: Patrick Rothfuss
Tags: #Mercenary troops, #Magicians, #Magic, #Attempted assassination, #Fairies, #Fiction, #Fantasy, #General, #Heroes, #Epic
The Wise Man's Fear (134 page)
“Would you call this beautiful?” she asked after we had looked a while.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Uncertainty
. “Perhaps its movement.”
. “Perhaps its movement.”
“The stone moved not at all, and you called it beautiful as well.”
Questioning
.
Questioning
.
“It is not the nature of stone to move. Perhaps it is beauty to move according to your nature.”
She nodded as if my answer pleased her. We continued to watch the water.
“Have you heard of the Latantha?” she asked.
“No.”
Regret
. “But perhaps I simply do not know the word.”
Regret
. “But perhaps I simply do not know the word.”
She turned and we made our way along the valley floor until we came to a wider spot with the carefully groomed look of a garden. In the center of it was a tall tree the like of which I had never seen before.
We stopped at the edge of the clearing. “This is the sword tree,” she said, and made a gesture I did not recognize, brushing the back of her hand against her cheek. “The Latantha. Would you say it is beautiful?”
I watched it for a moment.
Curiosity
.“I would enjoy seeing it more closely.”
Curiosity
.“I would enjoy seeing it more closely.”
“That is not allowed.”
Emphatic
.
Emphatic
.
I nodded and watched it as well as I could from this distance. It had high, arching branches like an oak, but its leaves were broad, flat, and spun in odd circles when they caught the wind. “Yes.” I answered after a long while.
“Why did it take you so long to decide?”
“I was considering the reason for its beauty,” I admitted.
“And?”
“I could say it both moves and doesn’t move according to its nature, and that grants it beauty. But I do not think that is the reason.”
“Why then?”
I watched it for a long time. “I do not know. What do you consider the reason?”
“It simply is,” she said. “That is enough.”
I nodded, feeling slightly foolish about the elaborate answers I had given before.
“Do you know of the Ketan?” she asked, surprising me.
I now had an inkling of how important such things were to the Adem. So I hesitated to give an open answer. However I did not want to lie either. “Perhaps.”
Apology.
Apology.
She nodded. “You are cautious.”
“Yes. Are you Shehyn?”
Shehyn nodded. “When did you suspect me of being who I am?”
“When you asked of the Ketan,” I said. “When did you suspect me of knowing more than a barbarian should?”
“When I saw you set your feet.”
Another silence.
“Shehyn, why do you not wear the red like other mercenaries?”
She made a pair of unfamiliar gestures. “Has your teacher told you why they wear the red?”
“I did not think to ask,” I said, not wanting to imply Tempi had neglected my training.
“I ask you then.”
I thought a moment. “So their enemies will not see them bleed?”
Approval.
“Why then do I wear white?”
“Why then do I wear white?”
The only answer I could think of chilled me. “Because you do not bleed.”
She gave a partial nod. “Also because if an enemy draws my blood, she should see it as her fair reward.”
I fretted silently, doing my best to mimic proper Adem composure. After an appropriately polite pause, I asked. “What will become of Tempi?”
“That remains to be seen.” She gestured something close to irritation, then asked, “Are you not concerned for yourself?”
“I am more concerned for Tempi.”
The sword tree spun patterns on the wind. It was almost hypnotic.
“How far have you come in your training?” Shehyn asked.
“I have studied the Ketan for a month.”
She turned to face me and raised her hands. “Are you ready?”
I could not help but think that she was shorter than me by six inches and old enough to be my grandmother. Her lopsided yellow hat didn’t make her look terribly intimidating either. “Perhaps,” I said, and raised my hands as well.
Shehyn came toward me slowly, making Hands like Knives. I countered with Catching Rain. Then I made Climbing Iron and Fast Inward, but could not touch her. She quickened slightly, made Turning Breath and Striking Forward at the same time. I stopped one with Fan Water, but couldn’t escape the other. She touched me below my ribs then on my temple, softly as you would press a finger to someone’s lips.
Nothing I tried had any effect on her. I made Thrown Lighting, but she simply stepped away, not even bothering to counter. Once or twice I felt the brush of cloth against my hands as I came close enough to touch her white shirt, but that was all. It was like trying to strike a piece of hanging string.
I set my teeth and made Threshing Wheat, Pressing Cider, and Mother at the Stream, moving seamlessly from one to the other in a flurry of blows.
She moved like nothing I had ever seen. It wasn’t that she was fast, though she was fast, but that was not the heart of it. Shehyn moved perfectly, never taking two steps when one would do. Never moving four inches when she only needed three. She moved like something out of a story, more fluid and graceful than Felurian dancing.
Hoping to catch her by surprise and prove myself, I moved as fast as I dared. I made Maiden Dancing, Catching Sparrows, Fifteen Wolves . . .
Shehyn took one single, perfect step.
“Why do you weep?” Shehyn asked as she made Heron Falling. “Are you ashamed? Are you in fear?”
I blinked my eyes to clear them. My voice was harsh from the exertion and emotion. “You are beautiful, Shehyn. For in you is the stone of the wall, the water of the stream, and the motion of the tree in one.”
Shehyn blinked, and in her moment of surprise I found myself firmly gripping her shoulder and arm. I made Thunder Upward, but instead of being thrown, Shehyn stood still and solid as a stone.
Almost absentmindedly, she freed herself with Break Lion and made Threshing Wheat. I flew six feet and hit the ground.
I was up quickly with no harm done. It was a gentle throw on soft turf, and Tempi had taught me how to fall without hurting myself. But before I could advance again Shehyn stopped me with a gesture.
“Tempi has both taught you and not taught you,” she said, her expression unreadable. I forced my eyes away from her face again. So hard to break that lifetime’s worth of habit. “Which is both bad and good. Come.” She turned and walked closer to the tree.
It was bigger than I had thought. The smaller branches moved in wild, curving patterns as the wind tossed them about.
Shehyn picked up a fallen leaf and handed it to me. It was broad and flat, the size of a small plate, and surprisingly heavy. My hand stung and I saw a thin line of blood trailing down my thumb.
I examined the edge of the leaf and saw it was rigid, its edge as sharp as a blade of grass. Sword tree indeed. I looked up at the spinning leaves. Anyone standing near the tree when the wind was high would be cut to ribbons.
Shehyn said, “If you were to attack this tree, what would you do? Would you strike the root? No. Too strong. Would you strike the leaf? No. Too fast. Where then?”
“The branch.”
“The branch.”
Agreement
. She turned to me. “That is what Tempi has not taught you. It would have been wrong for him to teach you that. Nevertheless, you have suffered for it.”
Agreement
. She turned to me. “That is what Tempi has not taught you. It would have been wrong for him to teach you that. Nevertheless, you have suffered for it.”
“I don’t understand.”
She gestured for me to begin the Ketan. Automatically I fell into Catch Sparrows.
“Stop.” I froze in position. “If I am to attack you, where should it be? Here, at the root?” She pushed my leg and found it unyielding. “Here at the leaf?” She pushed at my upheld hand, moving it easily, but accomplishing little else. “Here. The branch.” She pushed gently against one of my shoulders, moving me easily. “And here.” She added pressure to my hip, spinning me around. “Do you see? You find the place to spend your strength, or it is wasted. Wasting strength is not of the Lethani.”
“Yes, Shehyn.”
She raised her hands, falling into the position where I had caught her before, midway through Heron Falling. “Make Thunder Upward. Where is my root?”
I pointed to her solidly planted feet.
“Where is the leaf?”
I pointed to her hands.
“No. From here to here is the leaf.” She indicated her whole arm and demonstrated how she could freely strike with her hands, elbows or shoulders. “Where is the branch?”
I thought for a long moment, then tapped her knee.
Though she gave no sign of it, I sensed her surprise. “And?”
I tapped her opposite side under her armpit, then her shoulder.
“Show me.”
I came in close to her, set one leg close against her knee, and made Thunder Upward, throwing her to the side. I was surprised at how little force was required.
However, instead of being thrown into the air to tumble to the ground, Shehyn gripped my forearm. I felt a jolt run up my arm and was pulled one staggering step to the side. Rather than being thrown Shehyn used her grip as leverage so her feet came down beneath her. She took a single perfect step and had her balance again.
Shehyn looked me straight in the eye for a long, speculative moment, then turned to leave, gesturing for me to follow.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED ELEVEN
A Liar and a Thief
S
HEHYN AND I RETURNED to the complex of stone buildings to find Tempi standing outside, shifting nervously from foot to foot. That confirmed my suspicion. He hadn’t sent Shehyn to test me. She had found me on her own.
HEHYN AND I RETURNED to the complex of stone buildings to find Tempi standing outside, shifting nervously from foot to foot. That confirmed my suspicion. He hadn’t sent Shehyn to test me. She had found me on her own.
When we came close enough, Tempi held his sword out in his right hand, point down. His left hand gestured
elaborate respect
. “Shehyn,” he said, “I—”
elaborate respect
. “Shehyn,” he said, “I—”
Shehyn motioned for him to follow as she entered the low stone building. She motioned to a young boy. “Fetch Carceret.” The boy took off running.
Curiosity
. I gestured to Tempi.
. I gestured to Tempi.
He didn’t look at me.
Profound seriousness. Attend
. It didn’t reassure me that these were the same gestures he had made on the road to Crosson when he thought we were walking into an ambush. His hands, I noticed, were shaking slightly.
Profound seriousness. Attend
. It didn’t reassure me that these were the same gestures he had made on the road to Crosson when he thought we were walking into an ambush. His hands, I noticed, were shaking slightly.
Shehyn led us to an open doorway where a woman in mercenary reds joined us. I recognized the thin scars on her eyebrow and jaw. This was Carceret, the mercenary we had met while heading to Severen, the one who had pushed me.
Shehyn motioned the two mercenaries inside, but held up a hand to me. “Wait here. What Tempi has done is not good. I will listen. Then I will decide what is to be done with you.”
I nodded, and she closed the door behind her.
I waited for an hour, then two. I strained my ears, but I couldn’t hear anything from the other side of the door. A few people walked past in the hallway: two in mercenary reds, and another in simple grey homespun. Each of them looked at my hair, though none of them stared.
Instead of smiling and nodding as would have been sociable among barbarians, I kept my face blank, returned their small gestures of greeting, and avoided touching eyes.
Somewhere past the third hour, the door opened and Shehyn waved me inside.
It was a well-lit room with walls of finished stone. It was the size of a large bedroom at an inn, but seemed even larger due to the lack of any significant furniture. There was a small iron stove radiating gentle heat near one wall, and four chairs facing each other in a rough circle. Tempi, Shehyn, and Carceret filled three of them. At a gesture from Shehyn, I took the fourth.
“How many have you killed?” Shehyn asked. Her tone was different than before. Peremptory. It was the same tone Tempi used during our discussions of the Lethani.
“Many.” I responded without any hesitation. I might be thick at times, but I know when I’m being tested.
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