The Wise Man's Fear

getting too heavy, you should have Kvothe give you a new one.”

Elodin nodded again and took a bite of his cinnas. As he chewed, he turned to look at me. By the light of the moon, I saw his eyes. They were cool, thoughtful, and perfectly, utterly sane.

After we finished our dinner, I sang a few songs, and we said our good-byes. Elodin and I walked away together. I knew at least a half-dozen ways to climb down from the roof of Mains, but I let him take the lead.

We made our way past a round stone observatory that stuck up from the roof and moved onto a long stretch of reasonably flat lead sheeting.

“How long have you been coming to see her?” Elodin asked.

I thought about it. “Half a year? It depends on when you start counting. It took a couple span of playing before I caught a glimpse of her, more before she trusted me enough to talk.”

“You’ve had better luck than I have,” he said. “It’s been years. This is the first time she’s come within ten paces of me. We barely speak a dozen words on a good day.”

We climbed over a wide, low chimney and back onto a gentle slope of thick timber sealed with layers of tar. As we walked I grew more anxious. Why had he been trying to get close to her?

I thought about the time I had gone to Haven with Elodin to visit his giller, Alder Whin. I thought about Auri there. Tiny Auri, strapped to a bed with thick leather belts so she couldn’t hurt herself or thrash around while she was being fed.

I stopped walking. Elodin took a few more steps before turning to look at me.

“She’s my friend,” I said slowly.

He nodded. “That much is obvious.”

“And I don’t have enough friends that I could bear to lose one,” I said. “Not her. Promise me you won’t tell anyone about her or bundle her off to Haven. It’s not the right place for her.” I swallowed against the dryness in my throat. “I need you to promise me.”

Elodin tilted his head to one side. “I’m hearing an or else,” he said, amusement in his voice. “Even though you’re not actually saying it. I need to promise you or else. . . .” One corner of his mouth quirked up in a wry little smile.

When he smiled, I felt a flash of anger mingled with anxiety and fear. It was followed by the sudden, hot taste of plum and nutmeg in my mouth, and I became very conscious of the knife I had strapped to my thigh underneath my pants. I felt my hand slowly sliding into my pocket.

Then I saw the edge of the roof a half-dozen feet behind Elodin, and I felt my feet shift slightly, getting ready to sprint and tackle him, bearing us both off the roof and down to the hard cobblestones below.

I felt a sudden, cold sweat sweep over my body and closed my eyes. I took a deep, slow breath and the taste in my mouth faded.

I opened my eyes again. “I need you to promise me,” I said. “Or else I’ll probably do something stupid beyond all mortal ken.” I swallowed. “And both of us will end up the worse for it.”

Elodin looked at me. “What a remarkably honest threat,” he said. “Normally they’re much more growlish and gristly than that.”

“Gristly?” I asked, emphasizing the ‘t.’ “Don’t you mean grisly?”

“Both,” he said. “Usually there’s a lot of, I’ll break your knees. I’ll break your neck.” He shrugged. “Makes me think of gristle, like when you’re boning a chicken.”

“Ah,” I said. “I see.”

We stared at each other for a moment.

“I’m not going to send anyone to take her in,” he said at last. “Haven is the proper place for some folk. It’s the only place for a lot of them. But I wouldn’t wish a mad dog locked there if there were a better option.”

He turned and started to walk away. When I didn’t follow, he turned to look back at me.

“That’s not good enough,” I said. “I need you to promise.”

“I swear on my mother’s milk,” Elodin said. “I swear on my name and my power. I swear it by the ever- moving moon.”

We started walking again.

“She needs warmer clothes,” I said. “And socks and shoes. And a blanket. And they need to be new. Auri won’t take anything that’s been worn by anyone else. I’ve tried.”

“She won’t take them from me,” Elodin said. “I’ve left things out for her. She won’t touch them.” He turned to look at me. “If I give them to you, will you pass them along?”

I nodded. “In that case she also needs about twenty talents, a ruby the size of an egg, and a new set of engraving tools.”

Elodin gave an honest, earthy chuckle. “Does she also need lute strings?”

I nodded. “Two pair, if you can get them.”

“Why Auri?” Elodin asked.

“Because she doesn’t have anyone else,” I said. “And neither do I. If we don’t look out for each other, who will?”

He shook his head. “No. Why did you pick that name for her?”

“Ah,” I said, embarrassed. “Because she’s so bright and sweet. She doesn’t have any reason to be, but she is. Auri means sunny.”

“In what language?” he asked.

I hesitated. “Siaru, I think.”

Elodin shook his head. “Sunny is leviriet in Siaru.”

I tried to think where I’d learned the word. Had I stumbled onto it in the Archives . . . ?

Before I could bring it to mind, Elodin spoke. “I am preparing to teach a class,” he said casually, “for those interested in the delicate and subtle art of naming.” He gave me a sideways look. “It occurs to me that it might not be a complete waste of your time.”

“I might be interested,” I said carefully.

He nodded. “You should read Teccam’s Underlying Principles to prepare. Not a long book, but thick, if you follow me.”

“If you lend me a copy, I’d like nothing better than to read it,” I said. “Otherwise, I’ll have to muddle through without.” He looked at me, uncomprehending. “I’ve been banned from the Archives.”

“What, still?” Elodin asked, surprised.

“Still.”

He seemed indignant. “It’s been what? Half a year?”

“Three quarters of a year in three days’ time,” I said. “Master Lorren has made his feelings clear on the issue of letting me back inside.”

“That,” Elodin said with a strange protectiveness in his voice, “is utter horseshit. You’re my Re’lar now.”

Elodin changed directions, heading over a piece of rooftop I usually avoided because it was covered in clay roofing tiles. From there we hopped a narrow alley, made our way across the sloping roof of an inn, and stepped onto a broad roof of finished stone.

Eventually we came to a wide window with the warm glow of candlelight behind it. Elodin knocked on a pane of glass as sharply as if it were a door. Looking around, I realized we were standing atop the Masters’ Hall.

After a moment, I saw the tall, thin shape of Master Lorren block the candlelight behind the window. He worked the latch and the entire window swung open on a hinge.

“Elodin, what can I do for you?” Lorren asked. If he thought anything odd about the situation, I couldn’t tell from looking at his face.

Elodin jerked a thumb over his shoulder at me. “The boy here says he’s still banned from the Archives. Is that so?”

Lorren’s impassive eyes moved to me, then back to Elodin. “It is.”

“Well let him back in,” Elodin said. “He needs to read things. You’ve made your point.”

“He’s reckless,” Lorren said flatly. “I’d planned to keep him out for a year and a day.”

Elodin sighed. “Yes yes, very traditional. Why don’t you give him a second chance? I’ll vouch for him.”

Lorren eyed me for a long moment. I tried to look as responsible as I could, which wasn’t very, considering I was standing on a rooftop in the middle of the night.