Authors: Patrick Rothfuss

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

The Wise Man's Fear (80 page)

“Does it protect you from spirits?” I asked in a hushed voice.

“Oh yes,” he said flippantly. “All sorts.”

I swallowed nervously. “May I touch it?”

He shrugged and leaned forward, holding it out to me.

I took it timidly with my thumb and forefinger, then jumped back a step. “It bit me!” I said, pitching my voice somewhere between indignation and anxiety as I wrung my hand.

I saw him fighting down a smile. “Ah, yes. I need to feed it, I suspect.” He tucked it back inside his robes. “Go on now.” He made a shooing motion toward the door.

I made my way back to the Maer’s rooms, trying to massage some feeling back into my numb fingers. It was a genuine Arcanum guilder. He was a real arcanist. He knew exactly what he was doing.

I returned to the Maer’s rooms and engaged in five minutes of painfully formal small talk while I refilled the flit’s feeders with the still-warm medicine. The birds were unnervingly energetic, humming and chirruping sweetly.

The Maer sipped a cup of tea as we talked, his eyes following me quietly from the bed. When my work with the birds was finished I made my good-byes and left as quickly as propriety allowed.

Though our conversation hadn’t touched on anything more serious than the weather, I could read his underlying message as plainly as if he’d written it for me to read. He was in control. He was keeping his options open. He didn’t trust me.

CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

The Gilded Cage

A
FTER MY BRIEF TASTE of freedom, I was trapped in my rooms again. Though I hoped the Maer was through the worst of his recovery, I still needed to be at hand should his condition worsen and he call on me. I couldn’t justify even a brief trip to Severen-Low, no matter how desperately I wanted to head back to Tinnery Street with the hope of meeting up with Denna.

So I called on Bredon and spent a pleasant afternoon playing tak. We played game after game, and I lost each one in new and exciting ways. This time when we parted ways, he left the game table with me, claiming his servants were tired of carrying it back and forth between our rooms.

In addition to tak with Bredon and my music, I had a new distraction, albeit an irritating one. Caudicus was every bit the gossip he seemed to be, and word had spread about my story genealogy. So now in addition to courtiers trying to pry information out of me, I was deluged with a steady flow of people eager to air everyone else’s dirty laundry.

I dissuaded those I could, and encouraged the especially rabid to write their stories down and send them to me. A surprising number of them took time to do this, and a stack of slanderous stories began to accumulate on a desk in one of my unused rooms.

The next day when the Maer summoned me, I arrived to find Alveron sitting in a chair near his bed, reading a copy of Fyoren’s
Claim of Kings
in the original Eld Vintic. His color was remarkably good and I saw no trembling in his hands as he turned a page. He didn’t look up as I entered the room.

Without speaking, I prepared a new pot of tea with the hot water waiting at the Maer’s bedside table. I poured a cup and set it at the table by his elbow.

I checked the gilded cage in his sitting room. The flits darted back and forth to the feeders, playing dizzying aerial games which made them difficult to count. Still, I was reasonably certain there were twelve of them. They seemed none the worse despite three days of poisonous diet. I resisted an urge to knock the cage about a bit.

Finally I replaced the Maer’s flask of cod liver oil and found it was still three-quarters full. Yet another sign of my fading credibility.

Wordlessly I gathered up my things and prepared to leave, but before I made it to the door, the Maer turned his eyes up from his book. “Kvothe?”

“Yes, your grace?”

“It seems I am not as thirsty as I thought. Would you mind finishing this for me?” He gestured to the untasted cup of tea that sat on the table.

“To your grace’s health,” I said, and drank a sip. I made a face and added a spoon of sugar, stirred, and drained the rest of it with the Maer watching me. His eyes were calm, clever, and too knowing to be wholly good.

Caudicus let me in and ushered me into the same seat as before. “You’ll excuse me for a moment,” he said. “I have an experiment I must attend to, or I fear it will be ruined.” He hurried up a set of steps that led to a different part of the tower.

With nothing else to occupy my attention, I eyed his display of rings again, realizing that a person could make a fair guess at his position in the court by using the rings themselves as triangulation points.

Caudicus returned just as I was idly considering stealing one of his gold rings.

“I was not sure if you wanted your rings back,” Caudicus said, gesturing.

I looked back at the table and saw them resting on a tray. It seemed odd I hadn’t noticed them before. I picked them up and slid them into an inner pocket of my cloak. “Thank you kindly,” I said.

“And will you be taking the Maer his medicine again today?” he asked.

I nodded, puffing myself up proudly.

When I nodded, the motion of my head made me dizzy. It was only then I realized the trouble: I’d drunk a full cup of the Maer’s tea. There hadn’t been much laudanum in it. Or rather, not much laudanum if you were in pain and being slowly weaned away from a budding addiction to ophalum.

However, it was quite a bit of laudanum for someone like myself. I could feel the effects of it slowly creeping over me, a warm lassitude running through my bones. Everything seemed to be moving a little more slowly than normal.

“The Maer seemed eager for his medicine today,” I said, taking extra care to speak clearly. “I’m afraid I don’t have much time to chat.” I was in no condition to play the half-wit gentry for any length of time.

Caudicus nodded seriously and retreated to his worktable. I followed him as I always did, wearing my best curious expression.

I watched with half an eye as Caudicus mixed the medicine. But my wits were fuddled by the laudanum, and what remained were focused on other matters. The Maer was hardly speaking to me. Stapes hadn’t trusted me from the beginning, and the flits were healthy as ever. Worst of all, I was trapped in my rooms while Denna waited down on Tinnery Street, no doubt wondering why I hadn’t come to visit.

I looked up, aware that Caudicus had asked me a question. “Beg your pardon?”

“Could you pass me the acid?” Caudicus repeated as he finished measuring out a portion of leaf into his mortar and pestle.

I picked up the glass decanter and began to hand it to him before I remembered I was just an ignorant lordling. I couldn’t tell salt from sulfur. I didn’t even know what an acid was.

I did not flush or stumble. I didn’t sweat or stutter. I am Edema Ruh born, and even drugged and fuddled I am a performer down to the marrow of my bones. I met his eyes and asked, “This one, right? The clear bottle comes next.”

Caudicus gave me a long, speculative look.

I flashed him a brilliant grin. “I’ve got a good eye for detail,” I said smugly. “I’ve watched you go through this twice now. I bet I could mix the Maer’s medicine myself if I wanted to.”

I pitched my voice with all the ignorant self-confidence I could muster. This is the true mark of nobility. The unshakable belief that they can do anything: tan leather, shoe a horse, spin pottery, plow a field . . . if they really wanted to.

Caudicus looked at me a moment longer, then began to measure out the acid. “I daresay you could, young sir.”

Three minutes later I was walking down the hall with the warm vial of medicine in my sweaty palm. It almost didn’t matter whether I’d fooled him or not. What mattered was that for some reason, Caudicus was suspicious of me.

Stapes stared daggers into my back as he let me into the Maer’s rooms, and Alveron ignored me as I poured the new dose of poison into the flit’s feeders. The pretty things hummed about their cage with infuriating energy.

I took the long way back to my rooms, trying to get a better feel for the layout of the Maer’s estate. I already had my escape route half planned, but Caudicus’ suspicion encouraged me to put the finishing touches on it. If the flits didn’t start dying tomorrow, it would probably be in my best interest to disappear from Severen as quickly and quietly as possible.

Late that night, when I was reasonably sure the Maer wouldn’t call on me, I slipped out the window of my room and made a thorough exploration of the gardens. There were no guards this late at night, but I did have to avoid a half-dozen couples taking moonlight strolls. There were two others sitting in close, romantic conversation, one in a bower, the other in a gazebo. The last couple I nearly trod on while cutting through a hedgerow. They were neither strolling nor conversing in any conventional sense, but their activities were romantic. They didn’t notice me.

Eventually I found my way onto the roof. From there I could see the grounds surrounding the estate. The western edge was out of the question, of course, as it was pressed up against the edge of the Sheer, but I knew there had to be other opportunities for escape.

While exploring the southern end of the estate, I saw lights burning brightly in one of the towers. What’s more, they had the distinctive, red tint of sympathy lamps. Caudicus was still awake.

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