Authors: Patrick Rothfuss

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

The Wise Man's Fear (69 page)

“Fine!” she said at last.

We shook hands. “A year and a day,” I said.

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

All Wise Men Fear

I
STOPPED BY THE EOLIAN where Threpe was waiting for me, practically dancing with impatience. He had, he told me, found a boat heading downriver in less than an hour. What’s more, he had already paid my way as far as Tarbean, where I should easily be able to find passage east.

The two of us hurried to the docks, arriving just as the ship was going through its final preparations. Threpe, red-faced and puffing from our brisk walk, hurried to give me a lifetime’s worth of advice in the space of three minutes.

“The Maer is old, old blood,” he said. “Not like most of the little nobility around these parts who can’t tell you who their great-grandfathers are. So treat him with respect.”

I rolled my eyes. Why did everyone always expect me to behave so poorly?

“And remember,” he said. “If you look like you’re chasing money, they’ll see you as provincial. As soon as that happens no one will take you seriously. You’re there to curry favor. That’s the high-stakes game. Besides, fortune follows favor, as they say. If you get one, you’ll have the other. It’s like what Teccam wrote, ‘The cost of a loaf is a simple thing, and so a loaf is often sought . . .’ ”

“ ‘... but some things are past valuing: laughter, land, and love are never bought.’” I finished. It was actually a quote from Gregan the Lesser, but I didn’t bother correcting him.

“Hoy there!” a tan, bearded man shouted to us from the deck of the ship. “We got one straggler we’re waitin’ on, and Captain’s angry as an ugly whore. He swears he’ll leave if he ain’t here in two minutes. You’d do well to be aboard by then.” He wandered off without waiting for a reply.

“Address him as your grace,” Threpe continued as if we hadn’t been interrupted. “And remember: speak least if you would be most often heard. Oh!” He drew a sealed letter from his breast pocket. “Here’s your letter of introduction. I may send another copy by post, just so he knows to expect you.”

I gave him a broad smile and gripped his arm. “Thank you, Denn,” I said earnestly. “For everything. I appreciate all of this more than you know.”

Threpe waved the comment aside. “I know you’ll do splendidly. You’re a clever boy. Mind that you find a good tailor when you get there. The fashions will be different. As they say: know a lady by her manner, a man by his cloth.”

I knelt and opened up my lute case. Moving the lute aside, I pressed the lid of the secret compartment and twisted it open. I slid Threpe’s sealed letter inside, where it joined the hollow horn with Nina’s drawing and a small sack of dried apple I had stowed there. There was nothing special about the dried apple, but in my opinion if you have a secret compartment in your lute case and don’t use it to hide things, there is something terribly, terribly wrong with you.

I snapped the clasps closed, refastening the lid, then stood and gathered up my belongings, ready to board the ship.

Threpe gripped my shoulder suddenly. “I almost forgot! Alveron mentioned in one of his letters that the young people in his court gamble. He thinks it’s a deplorable habit, so stay clear of it. And remember, small thaws make great floods, so be twice wary of a slowly changing season.”

I saw someone running down the dock toward us. It was the pinch-faced man who had passed Elodin and me on Stonebridge earlier. He carried a cloth-wrapped package close under one arm.

“I’m guessing that’s their missing sailor,” I said quickly. “I’d better get aboard.” I gave Threpe a quick embrace and tried to get away before he could give me any more advice.

But he caught my sleeve as I turned. “Be careful on your way there,” he said, his expression anxious. “Remember: There are three things all wise men fear: the sea in storm, a night with no moon, and the anger of a gentle man.”

The sailor passed us and hit the gangplank running, unmindful of how the board jounced and clattered under his feet. I gave Threpe a reassuring smile and followed close on his heels. Two leathery men hauled up the plank, and I returned Threpe’s final wave.

Orders were shouted, men scrambled, and the ship began to move. I turned to face downriver, toward Tarbean, toward the sea.

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

A Brief Journey

M
Y ROUTE WAS A simple one. I would head downriver to Tarbean, through the Refting Strait, down the coast toward Junpui, then up the Arrand River. It was more roundabout than going overland, but better in the long run. Even if I were to purchase a post letter and change horses at every opportunity, it would still take me almost three span to reach Severen overland. And most of that time would be in southern Atur and the Small Kingdoms. Only priests and fools expected the roads in that part of the world to be safe.

The water route added several hundred miles to the distance traveled, but ships at sea need not mind the twistings and turnings of a road. And while a good horse can set a better pace than a ship, you can’t ride a horse day and night without stopping to rest. The water route would take about a dozen days, depending on the weather.

My curiosity was also glad to take the sea route. I had never been on any water larger than a river. My only real concern was that I might become bored with nothing but wind, waves, and sailors for company.

Several unfortunate complications arose during the trip.

In brief, there was a storm, piracy, treachery, and shipwreck, although not in that order. It also goes without saying that I did a great many things, some heroic, some ill-advised, some clever and audacious.

Over the course of my trip I was robbed, drowned, and left penniless on the streets of Junpui. In order to survive I begged for crusts, stole a man’s shoes, and recited poetry. The last should demonstrate more than all the rest how truly desperate my situation became.

However, as these events have little to do with the heart of the story, I must pass them over in favor of more important things. Simply said, it took me sixteen days to reach Severen. A bit longer than I had planned, but at no point during my journey was I ever bored.

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

The Sheer

I
LIMPED THROUGH THE GATES of Severen ragged, penniless, and hungry. I am no stranger to hunger. I know the countless hollow shapes it takes inside you. This particular hunger wasn’t a terrible one. I’d eaten two apples and some salt pork a day ago, so this hunger was merely painful. It wasn’t the bad hunger that leaves you weak and trembling. I was safe from that for at least eight hours or so.

Over the last two span everything I owned had been lost, destroyed, stolen, or abandoned. The only exception was my lute. Denna’s marvelous case had paid for itself ten times during my trip. In addition to saving my life on one occasion, it had protected my lute, Threpe’s letter of introduction, and Nina’s invaluable drawing of the Chandrian.

You may notice I don’t include any clothing on my list of possessions. There are two good reasons for this. The first is that you couldn’t really call the grubby rags I wore clothing without stretching the truth to its breaking point. Secondly, I had stolen them, so it doesn’t seem right to claim them as my own.

The most irritating was the loss of Fela’s cloak. I’d been forced to tear it up and use it for bandages in Junpui. Nearly as bad was the fact that my hard-won gram now lay somewhere deep below the cold, dark waters of the Centhe Sea.

The city of Severen was split into two unequal portions by a tall, white cliff. The majority of the living business of the city took place in the larger portion of the city at the foot of this cliff, aptly named the Sheer.

Atop the Sheer was a much smaller piece of the city. It consisted mostly of estates and manor houses belonging to aristocracy and wealthy merchants. Also present were the attendant number of tailors, liveries, theaters, and brothels necessary to provide for the needs of the upper class.

The stark cliff of white stone looked as if it had been thrust skyward to give the nobility a better view of the countryside. As it wandered off to the northeast and south, it lost height and stature, but where it bisected Severen, it was two hundred feet tall and steep as a garden wall.

In the center of the city, a wide peninsula of cliff jutted out from the Sheer. Perched on this outthrust piece of cliff was Maer Alveron’s estate. Its pale stone walls were visible from anywhere in the city below. The effect was daunting, as if the Maer’s ancestral home was peering down on you.

Seeing it without a coin in my pocket or a decent set of clothes on my back was rather intimidating. I’d planned to take Threpe’s letter straight to the Maer despite my disheveled state, but looking up at the tall stone walls, I realized I probably wouldn’t be let through the front door. I looked like a filthy beggar.

I had few resources and even fewer options to choose from. With the exception of Ambrose some miles to the south in his father’s barony, I didn’t know a single soul in all of Vintas.

I’ve begged before, and I’ve stolen. But only when I’ve had no other options available to me. They are dangerous occupations and only a complete fool attempts them in an unfamiliar city, let alone an entirely new country. Here in Vintas, I didn’t even know what laws I might be breaking.

So I gritted my teeth and took the only option available to me. I wandered barefoot through the cobblestone streets of Severen-Low until I found a pawn shop in one of the better parts of the city.

I stood across the street for the better part of an hour, watching the people come and go, trying to think of some better option. But I simply didn’t have one. So I removed Threpe’s letter and Nina’s painting from the secret compartment in my lute case, crossed the street, and pawned my lute and case for eight silver nobles and a span note.

If you’ve led the sort of easy life that’s never taken you to the pawners, let me explain. The note was a receipt of sorts, and with it, I could buy my lute back for the same amount of money, so long as I did it within eleven days. On the twelfth day it became the property of the pawnbroker who would undoubtedly turn around and sell it for ten times that amount.

Back on the street, I hefted the coins. They seemed thin and insubstantial compared to Cealdish currency or the heavy Commonwealth pennies I was familiar with. Still, money spends the same the world round, and seven nobles bought me a fine suit of clothes of the sort a gentleman might wear, along with a pair of soft leather boots. What remained bought a haircut, shave, bath, and my first solid meal in three days. After that I was coin-poor again, but feeling much more sure of myself.

Still, I knew it would be difficult to make my way to the Maer. Men with his degree of power live within layers of protection. There are customary, graceful ways to navigate these layers: introductions and audiences, messages and rings, calling cards and ass-kissing.

But with only eleven days to get my lute out of pawn, my time was too precious for that. I needed to make contact with Alveron quickly.

So I made my way to the foot of the Sheer and found a small café that catered to a genteel clientele. I used one of my precious few remaining coins to buy a mug of chocolate and a seat with a view of the haberdasher’s across the street.

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