The Wise Man's Fear

stretches of idle chatter to glean information from an unsuspecting victim.”

Bredon smiled. “By the names on these rings, I can tell you’ve seen nothing but the most gaudy and grasping of us. You’re understandably skittish regarding your secrets, whatever they may be.” He leaned forward. “Consider this instead. Those who have approached you are like magpies. They caw and flap around you, hoping to snatch something bright to carry home with them.” He rolled his eyes disdainfully. “What gain is there in that? Some small notoriety, I suppose. Some brief elevation among one’s gaudy, gossipy peers.”

Bredon ran a hand over his white beard. “I am no magpie. I need nothing shiny, nor do I care what gossipmongers think. I play a longer, more subtle game.” He began to work the drawstring loose on the black velvet bag. “You are a man of some wit. I know this as the Maer does not waste his time with fools. I know you either stand in the Maer’s good grace, or you have a chance to gain that grace. So here is my plan.” He smiled his warm smile again. “Would you like to hear my plan?”

I found myself smiling back without meaning to, as I had before. “That would be unusually kind of you.”

“My plan is to insinuate myself into your favor now. I will make myself useful and entertaining. I will provide conversation and a way to pass the time.” He spilled a set of round stones out onto the marble tabletop. “Then, when your star grows ascendant in the Maer’s sky, I may find myself in possession of an unexpectedly useful friend.” He began to sort the stones into their different colors. “And should your star fail to rise, I am still richer by several games of tak.”

“I also imagine it won’t hurt your reputation to spend several hours alone with me,” I mentioned. “Given that all my other conversations have been barren things not likely to last a quarter hour.”

“There is some truth to that as well,” he said as he began to arrange the stones. His curious brown eyes smiled at me again. “Oh yes, I think I’m going to have quite a bit of fun playing with you.”

My next several hours were spent learning how to play tak. Even if I had not been nearly mad with idleness, I would have enjoyed it. Tak is the best sort of game: simple in its rules, complex in its strategy. Bredon beat me handily in all five games we played, but I am proud to say that he never beat me the same way twice.

After the fifth game he leaned back with a satisfied sigh. “That was approaching a good game. You got clever in the corner here.” He wiggled his fingers at the edge of the board.

“Not clever enough.”

“Clever nonetheless. What you attempted is called a brooker’s fall, just so you know.”

“And what’s the name for the way you got away from it?”

“I call it Bredon’s defense,” he said, smiling rakishly. “But that’s what I call any maneuver when I get out of a tight corner by being uncommonly clever.”

I laughed and began to separate the stones again. “Another?”

Bredon sighed. “Alas, I have an unavoidable appointment. I needn’t hurry out the door, but I don’t have enough time for another game. Not a proper one.”

His brown eyes looked me over as he began to gather the stones into the velvet bag. “I won’t insult you by asking if you’re familiar with the local customs,” Bredon said. “However, I thought I might give a few general pieces of advice, on the off chance they might be helpful.” He smiled at me. “It would be best to listen, of course. If you refuse, you reveal your knowledge of these things.”

“Of course,” I said with a straight face.

Bredon slid open the table’s drawer and pulled out the handful of iron rings we had swept aside to clear the board for our game. “The presentation of the rings implies a great deal. If they are jumbled in a bowl for example, it implies disinterest in the social aspects of the court.”

He arranged the rings with their engraved names facing me. “Laid out in careful display, they show you are proud of your connections.” He looked up and smiled. “Either way, a new arrival is usually left alone in the sitting room on some pretext. This gives them a chance to paw through your collection in order to satisfy their curiosity.”

Shrugging, Bredon pushed the rings toward me. “You have, of course, always made a point of offering to return the rings to their owners.” He was careful not to make it into a question.

“Of course,” I said honestly. Threpe had known that much.

“It is the most polite thing to do.” He looked up at me, his brown eyes peering owlishly from the halo of his white hair and beard. “Have you worn any of them in public?”

I held up my bare hands.

“Wearing a ring can indicate a debt, or that you are attempting to curry favor.” He looked at me. “If the Maer ever declines to take his ring back from you, it would be an indication he was willing to make your connection somewhat more formal.”

“And not wearing the ring would be viewed as a slight,” I said.

Bredon smiled. “Perhaps. It is one thing to display a ring in your sitting room, quite another to display it on your hand. Wearing the ring of one’s better can be viewed as quite presumptuous. Also, if you wore another noble’s ring while visiting the Maer, he might take it amiss. As if someone had poached you from his forest.”

He leaned back in his chair. “I mention these things as general talking points,” he said, “suspecting this information is already well known to you, and you are politely letting an old man ramble.”

“Perhaps I am still reeling from a series of numbing defeats at tak,” I said.

He waved my comment away, and I noticed he wore no rings of any sort on his fingers. “You took to it quickly, like a baron at a brothel, as they say. I expect you’ll prove a decent challenge after a month or so.”

“Wait and see,” I said. “I’ll beat you the next time we play.”

Bredon chuckled. “I like to hear that.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a smaller velvet bag. “I have also brought you a small gift.”

“I couldn’t possibly,” I said reflexively. “You’ve already provided me with an afternoon’s entertainment.”

“Please,” he said, pushing the bag across the table. “I must insist. These are yours without obligation, let, or lien. A freely given gift.”

I upended the bag and three rings chimed into my palm. Gold, silver, and iron. Each of them had my name etched into the metal: Kvothe.

“I heard a rumor your luggage was lost,” Bredon said. “And thought these might prove useful.” He smiled. “Especially if you desire another game of tak.”

I rolled the rings around in my hand, idly wondering if the gold ring was solid or simply plated. “And what ring would I send my new acquaintance if I desired his company?”

“Well,” Bredon said slowly. “That is complicated. By my rash and unseemly barging into your rooms, I have neglected a proper introduction and failed to inform you as to my title and rank.” His brown eyes looked into mine seriously.

“And it would be terribly rude of me to inquire about such things,” I said slowly, not quite sure what he was playing at.

He nodded. “So for now, you must assume I am without either title or rank. That puts us on a curious footing: you unannounced to the court, and myself unannounced to you. As such, it would be fitting for you to send me a silver ring if, in the future, you would like to share a lunch or graciously lose another game of tak.”

I rolled the silver ring around in my fingers. If I sent it to him, rumor would get around that I was claiming a rank roughly equal to his, and I had no idea what rank that was. “What will people say?”

His eyes danced a bit. “What indeed?”

So the days continued to pass. The Maer summoned me for urbane chatter. Magpie nobles sent their cards and rings and were met with polite conversational rebuffment.

Bredon alone kept me from growing mad with caged boredom. The next day I sent him my new silver ring with a card saying, “At your leisure. My rooms.” Five minutes later he arrived with his tak table and bag of stones. He offered my ring back to me and I accepted it as graciously as possible. I wouldn’t have minded him keeping it. But as he knew, I only had the one.

Our fifth game was interrupted when I was summoned by the Maer, his ring of iron sitting darkly on the runner’s polished silver tray. I made my apologies to Bredon and hurried off to the gardens.

Later that night Bredon sent me his own silver ring and a card saying, “After supper. Your rooms.” I wrote “Delighted” on the card and sent it back.