The Wise Man's Fear

must ask your pardon. This clawing pain wears my temper thin, and it is not my custom to discuss personal matters with strangers, much less have them guessed from underneath me. Tell me the rest of what you guess. Be bold, if you must.”

I breathed a little easier. “I guess you want to marry this woman. To suit your duty, primarily, but also because you love her.”

There was another pause, not so bad as the last one, but tense nonetheless. “Love,” he said slowly, “is a word the foolish use too often. She is worthy of love, that is certain. And I have a fondness for her.” He looked uncomfortable. “That is all I will say.” He turned to look at me. “Can I count on your discretion?”

“Of course, your grace. But why so secretive about it?”

“I prefer to move at a time of my own choosing. Rumor forces us to act before we are ready, or ruins a situation before it becomes fully ripe.”

“I understand. What is the lady’s name?”

“Meluan Lackless,” he said her name carefully. “Now, I have discovered for myself that you are charming and well-mannered. What’s more, Count Threpe assures me you are a great maker and player of songs. These things are exactly what I need. Will you enter my service in this regard?”

I hesitated. “How exactly will your grace be putting me to use?”

He gave me a skeptical look. “I would think it rather obvious for so excellent a guesser as yourself.”

“I know you hope to court the lady, your grace. But I don’t know how. Do you want me to compose a letter or two? Write her songs? Will I climb balconies by moonlight to leave flowers on her windowsill? Dance with her wearing a mask, claiming your name as my own?” I gave him a wan smile. “I’m not much of a dancer, your grace.”

Alveron gave a deep, honest laugh, but even through the joyful sound of it, I could tell the act of laughing pained him. “I was thinking more of the first two,” he admitted, sinking back into the pillows, his eyes heavy.

I nodded. “I’ll need to know more about her, your grace. Trying to court a woman without knowing her would be worse than foolish.”

Alveron nodded tiredly. “Caudicus can lay the groundwork for you. He knows a great deal about the history of the families. Family is the foundation upon which a man stands. You’ll need to know where she comes from if you’re to court her.” He motioned me closer and held out an iron ring, his arm trembling with the effort of staying in the air. “Show this to Caudicus and he will know you are on my business.”

I took it quickly. “Does he know you plan to marry?”

“No!” Alveron’s eyes flew open. “Do not speak of this to anyone! Invent some reason for your inquiries. Fetch my medicine.”

He lay back, closing his eyes. As I left I heard him speaking faintly: “Sometimes they don’t give it knowingly, sometimes they don’t give it willingly. Nevertheless . . . all power.”

“Yes, your grace,” I said, but he had already fallen into a fitful sleep before I left the room.

CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE Purpose

As I left the Maer’s rooms, I considered sending a runner with my card and ring ahead to Caudicus. Then I dismissed the thought. I was on an errand for the Maer. Surely that would excuse a slight breach of etiquette.

From the rumor mill, I knew Alveron’s arcanist had been a permanent part of the Maer’s court for more than a dozen years. But other than the fact that he lived in one of the estate’s southern towers, I had no idea what to expect from the man.

I knocked on the thick-timbered door.

“Hold on then,” the voice came faintly. There was the sound of a bolt being drawn back, and the door opened to reveal a thin man with a long, hawkish nose and curling black hair. He wore a long, dark garment vaguely reminiscent of a master’s robe. “Yes?”

“I was wondering if I might borrow a moment of your time, sir?” I said, my nervousness only half- feigned.

He looked me over, taking in my fine clothes. “I don’t do love potions. You can find that sort of thing down in Severen-Low.” The heavy door began to inch closed. “Though you’d be better off with a little dancing and some roses if you ask me.”

“I’m here for something else,” I said quickly. “Two things actually. One for the Maer and one for myself.” I lifted my hand, revealing the iron ring on my palm, Alveron’s name blazed in bright gold across the face of it.

The door stopped closing. “You’d best come in, then,” Caudicus said.

The room looked like a small University contained in a single room. Lit with the familiar red glow of sympathy lamps, there were shelves of books, tables full of twisted glassware, and far in the back, half concealed by the curving wall of the tower, I thought I could see a small furnace or kiln.

“Good God!” I exclaimed, covering my mouth with one hand. “Is that a dragon?” I pointed to a huge stuffed crocodile that hung from one of the ceiling beams.

You have to understand, some arcanists are more territorial than sharks, especially those who have managed to acquire luxurious court positions such as this. I had no idea how Caudicus might react to a young arcanist-in- training arriving in his territory, so I decided it was safer to play the part of a pleasantly dim, nonthreatening lordling.

Caudicus closed the door behind me, chuckling. “No. It’s an alligator. Quite harmless I assure you.”

“It gave me a bit of a start,” I said. “What is the use of such a thing?”

“Honestly?” He looked up at it. “I don’t rightly know. It belonged to the arcanist who lived here before me. It seemed a shame to throw it away. Impressive specimen, don’t you think?”

I gave it a nervous look. “Quite.”

“What is this business you mentioned?” He gestured to a large, cushioned chair and settled himself into a similar chair across from me. “I’m afraid I only have a few minutes before I will be otherwise occupied. Until then my time is yours . . .” He trailed off questioningly.

I could see he knew quite well who I was: the mysterious young man the Maer had been meeting with. I guessed he was eager as the rest to find out why I was in Severen.

“Kvothe,” I said. “Actually, the Maer’s medicine is half my business.” I saw a faint, irritated line appear between his eyebrows and hurried to correct whatever he might be thinking. “I was speaking with the Maer earlier.” I gave the barest pause, as if I was unreasonably proud of this. “And he asked me if I might bring him his medicine after I had finished speaking with you.”

The line disappeared. “Certainly,” Caudicus said easily. “It would save me the trip to his rooms. But what is the matter you wished to speak about?”

“Well,” I leaned forward excitedly. “I’m doing research into the histories of the noble families in Vintas. I am thinking of writing a book, you see.”

“A genealogy?” I saw boredom begin to fog his eyes.

“Oh no. There are genealogies aplenty. I was thinking of a collection of stories related to the great families.” I was rather proud of this lie. Not only did it explain my curiosity about Meluan’s family, it gave a reason for why I was spending so much time with the Maer. “History tends to be rather dry, but everyone enjoys a story.”

Caudicus nodded to himself. “Clever idea. That could be an interesting book.”

“I’ll be writing a brief historical preface for each family, as an introduction to the stories that follow. The Maer mentioned you were quite the authority on the old families, and said he would be pleased if I called on you.”

The compliment had its desired effect, and Caudicus puffed himself up ever so slightly. “I don’t know if I’d consider myself an authority,” he said with false modesty. “But I am a bit of a historian.” He raised an eyebrow at me. “You must realize the families themselves would probably be a superior source of information.”

“One would think that,” I said with a sideways look. “But families tend to be reluctant to share their most interesting stories.”

Caudicus gave a wide grin. “I imagine so.” The grin faded just as quickly. “But I’m certain I don’t know any