The Wise Man's Fear

back to look at the slate.

The seven of us looked at each other. The only sound in the room was the tapping of Elodin’s chalk. “Which one is the most important?” I asked.

Elodin made a disgusted noise. “I don’t know,” he said. “I haven’t read them.” He wrote En Temerant Voistra on the board and circled it. “I don’t even know if this one is in the Archives at all.” He put a question mark next to it and continued to write. “I will tell you this. None of them are in Tomes. I made sure of that. You’ll have to hunt for them in the Stacks. You’ll have to earn them.”

He finished the last title and took a step back, nodding to himself. There were twenty books in all. He drew stars next to three of them, underlined two others, and drew a sad face next to the last one on the list.

Then he left, striding out of the room without another word, leaving us thinking on the nature of names and wondering what we had gotten ourselves into.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN The Hunt

Determined to make a good showing of myself in Elodin’s class, I tracked down Wilem and negotiated an exchange of future drinks for his help navigating the Archives.

We made our way through the cobbled streets of the University together, the wind gusting as the huge, windowless shape of the Archives loomed above us across the courtyard. The words Vorfelan Rhinata Morie were chiseled into the stone above the massive stone doors.

As we came closer, I realized my hands were sweaty. “Lord and lady, hold on for a second.” I said as I stopped walking.

Wil raised an eyebrow at me.

“I’m nervous as a new whore,” I said. “Just give me a moment.”

“You said Lorren lifted his ban two days ago,” Wilem said. “I thought you’d be inside as soon as you had permission.”

“I was waiting for them to update the ledgers.” I wiped my damp hands on my shirt. “I know something’s going to happen,” I said anxiously. “My name won’t be in the book. Or Ambrose will be at the desk and I’ll have some sort of relapse from that plum drug and end up kneeling on his throat and screaming.”

“I’d like to see that,” Wil said. “But Ambrose doesn’t work today.”

“That’s something,” I admitted, relaxing a bit. I pointed to the words above the door. “Do you know what that means?”

Wil glanced up. “The desire for knowledge shapes a man,” he said. “Or something close to that.”

“I like that.” I took a deep breath. “Right. Let’s go.”

I pulled open the huge stone doors and entered a small antechamber, then Wil tugged open the inner doors and we stepped into the entry hall. In the middle of the room was a huge wooden desk with several large, leather- bound ledgers open atop it. Several imposing doors led off in different directions.

Fela sat behind the desk, her curling hair pulled back into a tail. The red light from the sympathy lamps made her look different, but no less pretty. She smiled.

“Hello Fela,” I said, trying not to sound as nervous as I felt. “I heard I’m back in Lorren’s good books. Could you check for me?”

She nodded and began to flip through the ledger in front of her. Her face brightened, and she pointed. Then her expression went dark.

I felt a sinking sensation in my stomach, “What is it?” I asked. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” she said. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“You look like something’s wrong,” Wil grumbled. “What does it say?”

Fela hesitated, then spun the book around so we could read it: Kvothe, Arliden’s son. Red- haired. Fair complected. Young. Written next to this in the margin in a different script were the words, Ruh Bastard.

I grinned at her. “Correct on all counts. Can I go in?”

She nodded. “Do you need lamps?” she asked, opening a drawer.

“I do,” Wil said, already writing his name in a separate ledger.

“I’ve got my own,” I said, pulling my small lamp from a pocket of my cloak.

Fela opened the admittance ledger and signed us in. My hand shook as I wrote, skittering the pen’s nib embarrassingly, so it flicked ink across the page.

Fela blotted it away and closed the book. She smiled up at me. “Welcome back,” she said.

I let Wilem lead the way through the Stacks and did my best to look properly amazed.

It wasn’t a hard part to play. While I’d had access to the Archives for some time, I’d been forced to creep around like a thief. I had kept my lamp on its dimmest setting and avoided the main hallways for fear of accidentally running into someone.

Shelves covered every bit of the stone walls. Some hallways were broad and open with high ceilings, while others formed narrow lanes barely wide enough for two people to pass if they both turned sideways. The air was heavy with the smell of leather and dust, of old parchment and binding glue. It smelled of secrets.

Wilem led me through twisting shelves, up some stairs then through a long, wide hallway lined with books bound all in identical red leather. Finally we came to a door with dim red light showing around the edges.

“There are rooms set aside for private study,” Wilem said softly. “Reading holes. Sim and I use this one a lot. Not many people know about it.” Wil knocked briefly on the door before he opened it to reveal a windowless room barely larger than the table and chairs it contained.

Sim sat at the table, the red light of his sympathy lamp making his face look ruddier than usual. His eyes grew wide when he saw me. “Kvothe? What are you doing in here?” He turned to Wilem, horrified. “What is he doing in here?”

“Lorren lifted his ban,” Wilem said. “Our young boy has a reading list. He’s planning his first book hunt.”

“Congratulations!” Sim beamed at me. “Can I help? I’m falling asleep here.” He held out his hand.

I tapped my temple. “The day I can’t memorize twenty titles is the day I don’t belong in the Arcanum,” I said. Though that was only half the truth. The full truth was that I only owned a half-dozen precious sheets of paper. I couldn’t afford to waste one on something like this.

Sim pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket along with a nub of pencil. “I need things written down,” he said. “Not all of us memorize ballads for fun.”

I shrugged and began to jot them down. “It will probably go faster if we split my list three ways,” I said.

Wilem gave me a look. “You think you can just walk around and find books by yourself?” He looked at Sim, who was grinning widely.

Of course. I wasn’t supposed to know anything about the layout of the Stacks. Wil and Sim didn’t know I’d been sneaking in at nights for almost a month.

It’s not that I didn’t trust them, but Sim couldn’t lie to save his life, and Wil worked as a scriv. I didn’t want to force him to choose between my secret and his duty to Master Lorren.

So I decided to play dumb. “Oh, I’ll muddle through,” I said nonchalantly. “It can’t be that hard to figure out.”

“There are so many books in the Archives,” Wil said slowly, “that merely reading all the titles would take you a full span.” He paused, looking at me intently. “Eleven full days without pause for food or sleep.”

“Really?” Sim asked. “That long?”

Wil nodded. “I worked it out a year ago. It helps stop the E’lir’s mewling when they must wait for me to fetch them a book.” He looked at me. “There are books without titles too. And scrolls. And clays. And many languages.”

“What’s a clay?” I asked.

“Clay tablet,” Wil explained. “They were some of the only things to survive when Caluptena burned. Some have been transcribed, but not all.”