The Wise Man's Fear

Modegan accent. “You know how you feel when Mola takes the time to flirt with you?” Simmon gaped and looked as if he were trying to go pale and blush at the same time. Fela laughed at his bewilderment. “Tiny Gods, Sim. Do you think I’m blind? It’s a sweet thing, and it makes you feel good. What’s the harm in it?”

There was a pause. “Nothing, I suppose,” Sim said finally. Looking up, he gave me a shaky grin and brushed his hair back from his eyes. “Just don’t ever give me the look she mentioned, okay?” His grin widened, became more genuine. “I don’t know if I could handle it.”

I grinned back at him without thinking of it. Sim could always make me smile.

“Besides,” Fela said to him. “You’re perfect just the way you are.” She kissed his ear as if to put the seal on his improving mood, then turned back to me. “On the other hand, you couldn’t pay me enough to get tangled up with you,” she said flatly.

“What do you mean?” I demanded. “What about my look? My dark faerie whateverness?”

“Oh, you’re fascinating. But a girl wants more than that. She wants a man devoted to her.”

I shook my head. “I refuse to throw myself at her like every other man she’s ever met. She hates it. I’ve seen what happens.”

“Have you ever thought she might feel the same way?” Fela asked. “You do have something of a reputation with the ladies.”

“Should I cloister myself then?” I said, repeating what she’d said to Sim, though it came out sharper than I’d intended. “Blackened body of God, I’ve seen her on the arms often dozen men! Suddenly it’s offensive to her if I take another woman out to see a play?”

Fela gave me a frank look. “You’ve been doing more than going for carriage rides. Women talk.”

“Wonderful. And what do they say?” I asked bitterly, looking down at my soup.

“That you’re charming,” she said easily. “And polite. You don’t have wandering hands, which is actually a source of frustration in some cases, apparently.” She smiled a little.

I looked up, curious. “Who?”

Fela hesitated. “Meradin,” she said. “But you didn’t hear it from me.”

“She didn’t say twenty words to me over dinner,” I said, shaking my head. “And she’s disappointed I didn’t grope her afterward? I thought she hated me.”

“We’re a long way from Modeg,” Fela said. “People aren’t sensible about sex in this part of the world. Some women don’t know how to deal with a man that doesn’t make bold moves.”

“Fine,” I said. “What else do they say?”

“Nothing terribly surprising,” she said. “While you might not be grabby, it’s certainly no challenge to trip you either. You’re generous, witty, and . . .” She trailed off, looking uncomfortable.

“Go ahead,” I said.

Fela sighed and added, “Distant.”

It wasn’t the crushing blow I’d expected. “Distant?”

“Sometimes all you’re looking for is dinner,” Fela said. “Or company. Or conversation. Or for someone to have a friendly grope at you. But mostly you want a man to . . .” She frowned and started over. “When you’re with a man . . .” She trailed off again.

I leaned forward. “Say what you mean.”

Fela shrugged and looked away. “If we were together, I’d expect you to leave me. Not right away. Not with any malice or meanness. But I know you would. You don’t seem like the sort who will settle down with a girl forever. Eventually you’d move on to something more important than me.”

I prodded idly at a bit of potato in my soup, not sure of what to think.

“There’s got to be more to it than just devotion,” Sim said. “Kvothe would turn the world upside down for this girl. You can see that, can’t you?”

Fela gave me a long look. “I suppose I can,” she said softly.

“If you can see it, then Denna must be able to,” Simmon pointed out sensibly.

Fela shook her head. “It’s only easy to see because I’m far enough away.”

“Love is blind?” Sim laughed. “That’s the advice you have to offer?” He rolled his eyes. “Please.”

“I never said I was in love,” I interjected. “I never said that. She confuses me, and I’m fond of her. But it doesn’t go further than that. How could it? I don’t know her well enough to make any earnest claim of love. How can I love something I don’t understand?”

They looked at me in silence for a moment. Then Sim burst out in his boyish laugh as if I’d just said the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. He took hold of Fela’s hand and kissed it squarely on her multifaceted ring of stone. “You win,” he said to her. “Love is blind, and a deaf-mute too. I’ll never doubt your wisdom again.”

Still feeling out of sorts, I went looking for Master Elodin, eventually finding him sitting under a tree in a small garden next to the Mews.

“Kvothe!” He waved lazily. “Come. Sit.” He nudged a bowl toward me with his foot. “Have some grapes.”

I took a few. Fresh fruit wasn’t a rarity for me these days, but the grapes were lovely nonetheless, just on the verge of being overripe. I chewed pensively, my mind still tangled with thoughts of Denna.

“Master Elodin,” I asked slowly. “What would you think of someone who kept changing their own name?”

“What?” He sat up suddenly, his eyes wild and panicked. “What have you done?”

His reaction startled me, and I held up my hands defensively. “Nothing!” I insisted. “It’s not me. It’s a girl I know.”

Elodin’s face grew ashen. “Fela?” he said. “Oh no. No. She wouldn’t do something like that. She’s too smart for that.” It sounded as if he were desperately trying to convince himself.

“I’m not talking about Fela,” I said. “I’m talking about a young girl I know. Every time I turn around she’s picked another name for herself.”

“Oh,” Elodin said, relaxing. He leaned back against the tree, laughing softly. “Calling names,” he said with tangible relief. “God’s bones, boy, I thought . . .” He broke off, shaking his head.

“You thought what?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he said dismissively. “Now. What’s this about a girl?”

I shrugged, beginning to regret bringing it up in the first place. “I was just wondering what you’d say about a girl who keeps changing her name. Every time I turn around she’s picked a different one. Dianah. Donna. Dyane.”

“I’m assuming she’s not some fugitive?” Elodin asked, smiling. “Hunted. Doing her best to evade the iron law of Atur. That sort of thing?”

“Not to the best of my knowledge,” I said with a faint smile of my own.

“It could indicate she doesn’t know who she is,” he said. “Or that she does know, and doesn’t like it.” He looked up and rubbed his nose thoughtfully. “It could indicate restlessness and dissatisfaction. It could mean her nature is changeable and she shifts her name to fit it. Or it could mean she changes her name with the hope it might help her be a different person.”

“That’s a lot of nothing,” I said testily. “It’s like saying you know your soup is either hot or cold. That an apple is either sweet or sour.” I gave him a frown. “It’s just a complicated way of saying you don’t know anything.”

“You didn’t ask me what I knew of such a girl,” he pointed out. “You asked me what I would say of such a girl.”

I shrugged, tiring of the subject. We ate grapes in silence as we watched the students come and go.

“I called the wind again,” I said, realizing I hadn’t told him yet. “Down in Tarbean.”

He perked up at that. “Did you now?” he said, turning to look at me expectantly. “Let’s hear it then. All the details.”

Elodin was everything you could want in an audience, attentive and enthusiastic. I related the entire story, not sparing a few dramatic flourishes. By the end of it, I found my mood much improved.

“That’s three times this term,” Elodin said approvingly. “Sought and found when you had need of it. And not just a breeze but a breath. That’s subtle stuff.” He looked at me from the corner of his eye, giving me a sly smile.