arm of his chair. “All the cursed luck. If he has any wit, he’s been gone half a day. We’ll never catch him.”
I thought about reminding him that if he had believed me from the first, none of this would have happened, then thought better of it. “I’d advise your men to stay out of his tower, your grace. He’s had time to prepare a great deal of mischief in there, traps and the like.”
The Maer nodded and passed his hand in front of his eyes. “Yes. Of course. See to it, Stapes. I believe I’ll take a bit of rest. This business may take a while to sort out.”
I gathered myself to leave. But the Maer gestured me back into my seat. “Kvothe, stay a moment and make me a pot of tea before you go.”
Stapes rang for servants. While clearing the remains of our lunch away, they glanced at me curiously. Not only sitting in the Maer’s presence, I was sharing a meal with him in his private chambers. This news would be rumored through the estate in under ten minutes.
After the servants left, I made the Maer another pot of tea. I was preparing to leave when he spoke over the top of his cup, too softly for the guard to overhear.
“Kvothe, you have proved perfectly trustworthy and I regret any doubts I briefly entertained about you.” He sipped and swallowed before continuing. “Unfortunately, I cannot allow news of a poisoning to spread. Especially with the poisoner escaped.” He gave me a significant look. “It would interfere with the matter we discussed before.”
I nodded. Widespread knowledge that his own arcanist had nearly killed him would hardly help Alveron win the hand of the woman he hoped to marry.
He continued. “Unfortunately this need for silence also precludes my giving you a reward you all too richly deserve. Were the situation different, I would consider the gift of lands mere token thanks. I would grant you title too. This power my family still retains, free from the controlment of the king.”
My head reeled at the implication of what the Maer was saying as he continued. “However, if I were to do such a thing, there would be need of explanation. And an explanation is the one thing I cannot afford.”
Alveron extended his hand, and it took me a moment to realize he intended me to shake it. One does not typically shake hands with the Maer Alveron. I immediately regretted that the only person present to see it was the guard. I hoped he was a gossip.
I took his hand solemnly, and Alveron continued, “I owe you a great debt. If you ever find yourself in need, you shall have at your command all the help a grateful lord can lend.”
I nodded graciously, trying to keep a calm demeanor despite my excitement. This was exactly what I had been hoping for. With the Maer’s resources, I could make a concerted search for the Amyr. He could get me access to monastery archives, private libraries, places where important documents hadn’t been pruned and edited as they had in the University.
But I knew this wasn’t the proper time to ask. Alveron had promised his help. I could simply bide my time and choose what type of help I wanted most.
As I stepped outside the Maer’s rooms, Stapes surprised me with a sudden, wordless embrace. The expression on his face couldn’t have been more grateful if I’d pulled his family from a burning building. “Young sir, I doubt you understand how much I’m in your debt. If there’s anything you ever need, just make me wise of it.”
He gripped my hand, pumping it up and down enthusiastically. At the same time I felt him press something into my palm.
Then I was standing in the hallway. I opened my hand and saw a fine silver ring with Stapes’ name etched across the face. Alongside it was a second ring that wasn’t metal at all. It was smooth and white, and also had the manservant’s name carved in rough letters across the surface of it. I had no idea what such a thing might signify.
I made my way back to my rooms, almost dizzy with my sudden fortune.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
A Beautiful Game
The next day my meager belongings were moved to rooms the Maer deemed more suitable for someone firmly in his favor. There were five of them in all, three with windows overlooking the garden.
It was a nice gesture, but I couldn’t help but think that these rooms were even farther from the kitchens. My food would be cold as a stone by the time it made its way to me.
I’d barely been there an hour before a runner arrived bearing Bredon’s silver ring and a card that read: “Your glorious new rooms. When?”
I turned the card over, wrote: “As soon as you like,” and sent the boy on his way.
I placed his silver ring on a tray in my sitting room. The bowl next to it now had two silver rings glittering among the iron.
I opened the door to see Bredon’s dark eyes peering owlishly out at me from the halo of his white beard and hair. He smiled and bowed, his walking stick tucked under one arm. I offered him a seat, then excused myself politely and left him alone in the sitting room for a moment, as was the gracious thing to do.
I was barely through the doorway before I heard his rich laugh coming from the other room, “Ho ho!” he said. “Now there’s a thing!”
When I returned, Bredon was sitting by the tak board holding the two rings I had recently received from Stapes. “This is certainly a turn for the books,” he said. “Apparently I misjudged things yesterday when my runner was turned away from your door by an altogether surly guard.”
I grinned at him. “It’s been an exciting couple of days,” I said.
Bredon tucked his chin and chuckled, looking even more owlish than usual. “I daresay,” he said, holding up the silver ring. “This tells quite a story. But this . . .” He gestured to the white ring with his walking stick. “This is something else entirely. . . .”
I pulled up a seat across from him. “I’ll be frank with you,” I said. “I can only guess what it’s made of, let alone what it signifies.”
Bredon raised an eyebrow. “That’s remarkably forthright of you.”
I shrugged. “I feel somewhat more secure in my position here,” I admitted. “Enough that I can be a little less guarded with the people who have been kind to me.”
He chuckled again as he lay the silver ring on the board. “Secure,” he said. “I daresay you are at that.” He picked up the white ring. “Still, it’s not odd that you wouldn’t know about this.”
“I thought there were just three types of rings,” I said.
“That’s true for the most part,” Bredon said. “But the giving of rings goes back quite a ways. The common folk were doing it long before it became a game for the gentry. And while Stapes may breathe the rarified air with the rest of us, his family is undeniably common.”
Bredon set the white ring back onto the board and folded his hands over it. “Those rings were made of things ordinary folk might find easily at hand. A young lover might give a ring of new green grass to someone he was courting. A ring of leather promises service. And so on.”
“And a ring of horn?”
“A ring of horn shows enmity,” Bredon said. “Powerful and lasting enmity.”
“Ah,” I said, somewhat taken aback. “I see.”
Bredon smiled and held the pale ring up to the light. “But this,” he said, “is not horn. The grain is wrong, and Stapes would never give a horn ring alongside a silver one.” He shook his head. “No. Unless I miss my guess, this is a ring of bone.” He handed it to me.
“Wonderful,” I said glumly, turning it over in my hands. “And that means what? That he’ll stab me in the liver and push me down a dry well?”
Bredon gave me his wide, warm smile. “A ring of bone indicates a profound and lasting debt.”
“I see.” I rubbed it between my fingers. “I have to say I prefer being owed a favor.”
“Not just a favor,” Bredon said. “Traditionally, a ring such as this is carved from the bone of a deceased family member.” He raised an eyebrow. “And while I doubt that is currently the case, it does get the point across.”
