The Wise Man's Fear

“Taking a vacation,” I hedged. “Right now I’m assisting the Maer Alveron with a thing or two.”

Her eyes widened appreciatively. “Do tell.”

I looked away uncomfortably. “I’m afraid I can’t. Delicate matters and all that.” I cleared my throat and tried to change the subject. “What of you? You seem to be doing fairly well yourself.” I brushed two fingers across the embroidery that decorated the high neck of her dress.

“Well I’m not rubbing elbows with the Maer,” she said, making an exaggerated deferential gesture in my direction. “But as I mentioned in my letters, I—”

“Letters?” I asked. “You sent more than one?”

She nodded. “Three since I left,” she said. “I was about to start a fourth, but you’ve saved me the trouble.”

“I only got the one,” I said.

Denna shrugged. “I’d rather tell you in person, anyway.” She paused dramatically. “I finally have my formal patronage.”

“You have?” I said, delighted. “Denna, that’s wonderful news!”

Denna grinned proudly. Her teeth were white against the light nut color of her travel-tanned face. Her lips, as always, were red without the aid of any paint.

“Is he part of the court here in Severen?” I asked. “What’s his name?”

Denna’s grin faded into a serious look, a confused smile playing around her mouth. “You know I can’t tell you that,” she chided. “You know how closely he guards his privacy.”

My excitement fell away, leaving me cold. “Oh no, Denna. It’s not the same fellow as before, is it? The one who sent you to play for that wedding in Trebon?”

Denna looked puzzled. “Of course it is. I can’t tell you his real name. What was it you called him before? Master Elm?”

“Master Ash,” I said, and it felt like a mouthful of ashes when I said it. “Do you at least know his real name? Did he tell you that much before you signed up?”

“I expect I know his real name,” she shrugged, running a hand through her hair. When her fingers touched the braid she seemed surprised to find it there and quickly began to unravel it, her deft fingers smoothing it away. “Even if I don’t, what does it matter? Everyone has secrets, Kvothe. I don’t particularly care what his are so long as he continues to deal square with me. He’s been very generous.”

“He’s not just secretive, Denna,” I protested. “From the way you’ve described him, I’d say he’s either paranoid or tangled up in dangerous business.”

“I don’t know why you’re carrying such a grudge against him.”

I couldn’t believe she could say that. “Denna, he beat you senseless.”

She went very still. “No.” Her hand went to the fading bruise on her cheek. “No he didn’t. I told you. I fell while I was out riding. The stupid horse couldn’t tell a stick from a snake.”

I shook my head. “I’m talking about last fall in Trebon.”

Denna’s hand fell back to her lap where it made an absentminded fidgeting gesture, trying to toy with a ring that wasn’t there. She looked at me, her expression blank. “How did you know about that?”

“You told me yourself. That night on the hill, waiting for the draccus to come.”

She looked down, blinking. “I . . . I don’t remember saying that.”

“You were a little addled at the time,” I said gently. “But you did. You told me all about it. Denna, you shouldn’t have to stay with someone like that. Anyone who could do that to you . . .”

“He did it for my own good,” she said, her dark eyes beginning to flicker with anger. “Did I tell you that? There I was without a scratch on me and everyone else at the wedding dead as leather. You know what small towns are like. Even after they found me unconscious they thought I might have had something to do with it. You remember.”

I put my head down and shook it like an ox worrying its yoke. “I don’t believe it. There had to be another way around the situation. I would have found another way.”

“Well I guess we can’t all be as clever as you,” she said.

“Clever doesn’t have anything to do with it!” I came close to shouting. “He could have taken you away with him! He could have come forward and vouched for you!”

“He couldn’t let anyone know he was there,” Denna said. “He said—”

“He beat you.” And as I spoke the words I felt a terrible anger come together inside me. It wasn’t hot and furious, as some of my flashes of temper tend to be. This was different, slow and cold. And as soon as I felt it, I realized it had been there inside me for a long while, crystallizing, like a pond slowly freezing solid over a long winter night.

“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