Authors: Patrick Rothfuss

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

The Wise Man's Fear (82 page)

“He beat you,” I said again, and I could feel it inside, a solid block of icy anger. “Nothing you can say will change that. And if I ever see him, I’ll likely stick a knife in him rather than shake his hand.”

Denna looked up at me then, the irritation fading from her face. She gave me a look that was all sweet fondness and mingled pity. It was the sort of look you give a puppy when it growls, thinking itself terribly fierce. She put her hand gently on the side of my face, and I felt myself flush hot and hard, suddenly embarrassed by my own melodrama.

“Can we not argue about it?” she asked. “Please? Not today? It’s been so long since I’ve seen you. . . .”

I decided to let it go rather than risk driving her away. I knew what happened when men pressed her too hard. “Fair enough,” I said. “For today. Can you at least tell me what sort of thing your patron brought you out here for?”

Denna leaned back in her seat, smiling a wide smile. “Sorry, delicate matters and all that,” she mimicked.

“Don’t be that way,” I protested. “I’d tell you if I could, but the Maer values his privacy very highly.”

Denna leaned forward again to lay her hand over mine. “Poor Kvothe, it’s not out of spite. My patron is at
least
as private as the Maer. He made it very clear that things would go badly if I ever made our relationship public. He was quite emphatic about it.” Her expression had gone serious. “He’s a powerful man.” She seemed as if she would say more, then stopped herself.

Though I didn’t want to, I understood. My recent brush with the Maer’s anger had taught me caution. “What
can
you tell me about him?”

Denna tapped a finger against her lips thoughtfully. “He’s a surprisingly good dancer. I think I can say that without betraying anything. He’s quite graceful,” she said, then laughed at my expression. “I’m doing some research for him, looking into old genealogies and histories. He’s helping me write a couple songs so I can make a name for myself. . . .” She hesitated, then shook her head. “I think that’s all I can say.”

“Will I get to hear the songs after you’re done?”

She gave a shy smile. “I think that can be arranged.” She leapt to her feet and grabbed my arm to pull me to my feet. “Enough talking. Come and walk with me!”

I smiled, her enthusiasm as infectious as a child’s. But when she pulled at my hand, she let out a tiny yelp, flinching and pressing one of her hands to her side.

I was standing next to her in a second. “What’s the matter?”

Denna shrugged and gave me a brittle smile, holding her arm close to her ribs. “My fall,” she said. “That stupid horse. I get a twinge when I forget and move too quickly.”

“Has anyone looked at it?”

“It’s just a bruise,” she said. “And the sort of doctor I can afford, I wouldn’t trust to touch me.”

“What of your patron?” I asked. “Certainly he could arrange something.”

She slowly straightened. “It’s really not a problem.” She lifted her arms above her head and made a quick, clever dance step, then laughed at my serious expression. “No more talk of secret things for now. Come walk with me. Tell me dark and lurid gossip from the Maer’s court.”

“Very well,” I said as we began to walk. “I’ve heard the Maer is marvelously recovered from a long-standing illness.”

“You’re a poor rumormonger,” she said. “Everyone knows that.”

“The Baronet Bramston played a disastrous deck of faro last night.”

Denna rolled her eyes. “Boring.”

“The Comptess DeFerre lost her virginity while attending a performance of
Daeonica
.”

“Oh,” Denna raised her hand to her mouth, stifling a laugh. “Did she really?”

“She certainly didn’t have it with her after the intermission,” I said in a hushed voice. “But it turns out she had just left it behind in her rooms. So it was merely misplaced, not really lost. The servants found it two days later when they were cleaning up. Turns out, it had rolled underneath a chest of drawers.”

Denna’s expression turned indignant. “I can’t believe I believed you!” She swatted at me, then grimaced again, sucking a sharp breath through her teeth.

“You know,” I said softly. “I’ve been trained at the University. I’m not a physicker, but the medicine I know is good. I could take a look at it for you.”

She gave me a long look, as if she wasn’t quite sure what to make of my offer. “I think,” she said at last, “that might be the most circumspect route anyone has ever tried for getting me out of my clothes.”

“I . . .” I felt myself blush furiously. “I didn’t mean . . .”

Denna laughed at my discomfiture. “If I let anyone play doctor with me, it would be you, my Kvothe,” she said. “But I’ll tend to it for now.” She linked arms with me and we continued our walk down the street. “I know enough to take care of myself.”

I returned to the Maer’s estate hours later, taking the direct route rather than come in over the rooftops. When I arrived in the hallway leading to my room, I found two guards standing there instead of the single one that had been waiting before. I guessed they had discovered my escape.

Even this couldn’t dampen my spirits overmuch, as the time I’d spent with Denna had left me feeling twelve feet tall. Better yet, I was meeting with her tomorrow to go riding. Having a specific time and place to meet was an unexpected treat where Denna was concerned.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” I said as I came down the hall. “Anything interesting happen while I was out?”

“You’re to be confined to your rooms,” Jayes said grimly. I noticed he left off the “sir” this time.

I paused with my hand on the doorknob. “Beg pardon?”

“You’re to remain in your rooms until we get further orders,” he said. “And one of us is to stay with you at all times.”

I felt my temper flare up. “And does Alveron know about this?” I asked sharply.

They looked at each other uncertainly.

It
was
Stapes giving the orders then. That uncertainty would be enough to keep them from laying hands on me. “Let’s get this sorted out straightaway,” I said, and started down the hall at a brisk walk, leaving the guards to catch up with me, their armor clattering.

My temper fanned itself hotter as I made my way through the halls. If my credibility with the Maer was truly ruined, I preferred to have done with it now. If I couldn’t have the Maer’s good will, I would at least have my freedom and the ability to see Denna when I wished.

I turned the corner just in time to see the Maer emerging from his rooms. He looked as healthy as I had ever seen him, carrying a sheaf of papers under one arm.

As I approached, irritation flashed across his face and I thought he might simply have the guards carry me away. Nevertheless, I approached him as boldly as if I had a written invitation. “Your grace,” I said with cheery cordiality. “Might we talk for a moment?”

“Certainly,” he replied in a similar tone as he swung open the door he had been about to close behind himself. “Do come in.” I watched his eyes and saw an anger as hot as mine. A small, sensible part of me quailed, but my temper had the bit in its teeth and was galloping madly ahead.

We left the bemused guards in the antechamber, and Alveron led me through the second set of doors into his personal rooms. Silence hung dangerous in the air, like the calm before a sudden summer storm.

“I cannot believe your impudence,” the Maer hissed once the doors were closed. “Your wild accusations. Your ridiculous claims. I mislike public unpleasantness so we will deal with this later.” He made an imperious gesture. “Return to your rooms and do not leave until I decide how best to deal with you.”

“Your grace—”

I could tell by the set of his shoulders that he was ready to call the guards. “I do not hear you,” he said flatly.

He met my gaze then. His eyes were hard as flint and I saw how angry he truly was. This wasn’t the anger of a patron or employer. It wasn’t someone irritated by my failure to respect the social order. This was a man who had ruled everything around him from the age of sixteen. This man thought nothing of hanging someone from an iron gibbet to make a point. This was a man who, but for a twist of history, would now be king of all Vintas.

My temper sputtered and went out like a snuffed candle, leaving me chilled. I realized then that I had misjudged my situation badly.

When I was a child, homeless on the streets of Tarbean, I’d learned to deal with dangerous people: drunken dockworkers, guardsmen, even a homeless child with a bottle-glass knife can kill you.

The key to staying safe was knowing the rules of the situation. A guard wouldn’t beat you in the middle of the street. A dockworker wouldn’t chase you if you ran.

Now, with sudden clarity, I realized my mistake. The Maer was not bound by any rules. He could order me killed then hang my body over the city gates. He could throw me in jail and forget about me. He could leave me there while I grew starved and sickly. I had no position, no friends to intercede on my behalf. I was helpless as a child with a willow-switch sword.

I realized this in a flash and felt a gnawing fear settle in my belly. I should have stayed in Severen-Low while I had the chance. I never should have come here in the first place and meddled in the affairs of powerful folk such as this.

It was just then that Stapes bustled in from the Maer’s dressing room. Seeing us, his normally placid expression flickered briefly into panic and surprise. He recovered quickly. “I beg your pardon, sirs,” he said, and hurried back the way he came.

“Stapes,” the Maer called out before he could leave. “Come here.”

Stapes slunk back into the room. He wrung his hands nervously. His face had the stricken look of a guilty man, a man caught in the midst of something dishonest.

Alveron’s voice was stern. “Stapes, what do you have there?” Looking closer, I saw the manservant wasn’t wringing his hands, he was clutching something.

“It’s nothing—”

“Stapes!” the Maer barked. “How
dare
you lie to me! Show me at once!”

Numbly, the portly manservant opened his hands. A tiny gem-bright bird lay lifeless on his palm. His face had lost all hint of color.

Never in the history of the world has the death of a lovely thing brought such relief and joy. I had been certain of Stapes’ betrayal for days now, and here was the unquestionable proof of it.

Nevertheless, I kept quiet. The Maer had to see this with his own eyes.

“What is the meaning of this?” the Maer asked slowly.

“It’s not good to think of such things, sir,” the manservant said quickly, “and worse to dwell on them. I’ll just fetch another one. It’ll sing just as sweet.”

There was a long pause. I could see Alveron struggling to contain the rage he’d been ready to unleash on me. The silence continued to stretch.

“Stapes,” I said slowly. “How many birds have you replaced these last few days?”

Stapes turned to me, his expression indignant.

Before he could speak, the Maer broke in. “Answer him, Stapes.” His voice sounded almost choked. “Has there been more than this one?”

Stapes gave the Maer a stricken look. “Oh Rand, I didn’t want to trouble you. You were so bad for a time. Then you asked for the birds and had that terrible night. Then the next day one of them died.”

Looking down at the tiny bird in his hand, his words came faster and faster, almost tumbling over each other. Too clumsy to be anything but sincere. “I didn’t want to fill your head with talk of dying things. So I snuck it out and brought a new one in. Then you kept getting better and they started falling four or five a day. Every time I looked there would be another one lying in the bottom of the cage like a little cut flower. But you were doing so well. I didn’t want to mention it.”

Stapes covered the dead sipquick with a cupped hand. “It’s like they were giving up their little souls to make you well again.” Something inside the man suddenly gave way, and he began to cry. The deep, hopeless sobs of an honest man who has been frightened and helpless for a long time, watching the slow death of a well-loved friend.

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