Elodin raised an eyebrow as if mildly scandalized by this, then nodded approvingly.
“Hold on a moment,” I said. “We’re not done. I don’t know if I could explain music without using it, but that’s beside the point. That’s not explanation, it’s translation.”
Elodin’s face lit up. “That’s it exactly!” he said. “Translation. All explicit knowledge is translated knowledge, and all translation is imperfect.”
“So all explicit knowledge is imperfect?” I asked. “Tell Master Brandeur geometry is subjective. I’d love to watch that discussion.”
“Not all knowledge,” Elodin admitted. “But most.”
“Prove it,” I said.
“You can’t prove nonexistence,” Uresh interjected in a matter-of-fact way. He sounded exasperated. “Flawed logic.”
I ground my teeth at that. It was flawed logic. I never would have made that mistake if I’d been better rested. “Demonstrate it then,” I said.
“Fine, fine.” Elodin walked over to where Fela sat. “We’ll use Fela’s example.” He took her hand and pulled her to her feet, motioning me to follow.
I came reluctantly to my feet as well and Elodin arranged the two of us so we stood facing each other in profile to the class. “Here we have two lovely young people,” he said. “Their eyes meet across the room.”
Elodin pushed my shoulder and I stumbled forward half a step. “He says hello. She says hello. She smiles. He shifts uneasily from foot to foot.” I stopped doing just that and there was a faint murmur of laughter from the others.
“There is something ephemeral in the air,” Elodin said, moving to stand behind Fela. He put his hands on her shoulders, leaning close to her ear. “She loves the lines of him,” he said softly. “She is curious about the shape of his mouth. She wonders if this could be the one, if she could unclasp the secret pieces of her heart to him.” Fela looked down, her cheeks flushing a bright scarlet.
Elodin stalked around to stand behind me. “Kvothe looks at her, and for the first time he understands the impulse that first drove men to paint. To sculpt. To sing.”
He circled us again, eventually standing between us like a priest about to perform a wedding. “There exists between them something tenuous and delicate. They can both feel it. Like static in the air. Faint as frost.”
He looked me full in the face. His dark eyes serious. “Now. What do you do?”
I looked back at him, utterly lost. If there was one thing I knew less about than naming, it was courting women.
“There are three paths here,” Elodin said to the class. He held up one finger. “First. Our young lovers can try to express what they feel. They can try to play the half-heard song their hearts are singing.”
Elodin paused for effect. “This is the path of the honest fool, and it will go badly. This thing between you is too tremulous for talk. It is a spark so faint that even the most careful breath might snuff it out.”
Master Namer shook his head. “Even if you are clever and have a way with words, you are doomed in this. Because while your mouths might speak the same language, your hearts do not.” He looked at me intently. “This is an issue of translation.”
Elodin held up two fingers. “The second path is more careful. You talk of small things. The weather. A familiar play. You spend time in company. You hold hands. In doing so you slowly learn the secret meanings of each other’s words. This way, when the time comes you can speak with subtle meaning underneath your words, so there is understanding on both sides.”
Elodin made a sweeping gesture toward me. “Then there is the third path. The path of Kvothe.” He strode to stand shoulder to shoulder with me, facing Fela. “You sense something between you. Something wonderful and delicate.”
He gave a romantic, lovelorn sigh. “And, because you desire certainty in all things, you decide to force the issue. You take the shortest route. Simplest is best, you think.” Elodin extended his own hands and made wild grasping motions in Fela’s direction. “So you reach out and you grab this young woman’s breasts.”
There was a burst of startled laughter from everyone except Fela and myself. I scowled. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and her flush spread down her neck until it was hidden by her shirt.
Elodin turned his back to her and looked me in the eye.
“Re’lar Kvothe,” he said seriously. “I am trying to wake your sleeping mind to the subtle language the world is whispering. I am trying to seduce you into understanding. I am trying to
I left Elodin’s class in a foul mood.
Though to be honest, my mood of the last few days had been nothing but different variations of foul. I tried to hide it from my friends, but I was starting to crack under the weight of it all.
It was the loss of my lute that had done it. Everything else I’d been able to take in stride, the stinging burn across my chest, the constant ache in my knees, the lack of sleep. The persistent fear that I might let my Alar slip at the wrong moment and suddenly start vomiting blood.
I’d been coping with it all: my desperate poverty, my frustration with Elodin’s class. Even the new undertow of anxiety that came from knowing Devi was waiting on the other side of the river with a heart full of rage, three drops of my blood, and an Alar like the ocean in a storm.
But the loss of my lute was too much. It wasn’t just that I needed it to earn my room and board at Anker’s. It wasn’t just that my lute was the linchpin of my ability to make a living if I was forced out of the University.
No. The simple fact was that with my music, I could cope with the rest. My music was the glue that held me together. Only two days without it, and I was falling apart.
After Elodin’s class, I couldn’t bear the thought of more hours hunched over a worktable in the Fishery. My hands ached at the thought of it, and my eyes were gritty with lack of sleep.
So instead I wandered back to Anker’s for an early lunch. I must have looked fairly pitiful because he brought me out a double rasher of bacon with my soup, and a short beer besides.
“How did your dinner go, if you don’t mind my asking?” Anker asked, leaning against the bar.
I looked up at him. “Beg your pardon?”
“With your young lady,” he said. “I’m not one to pry, but the runner just dropped it off. I had to read it to see who it was for.”
I gave Anker my blankest look.
Anker gave me a puzzled look, then frowned. “Didn’t Laurel give you your note?”
I shook my head and Anker cursed bitterly. “I swear, some days the light should shine straight through that girl’s head.” He began to rummage around behind the bar. “Runner dropped off a note for you day before yesterday. I told her to give it to you when you got in. Here it is.” He held up a damp and rather draggled piece of paper and handed it to me.
It read:
My spirits rose a little. Notes from Denna were a rare treat, and she’d never invited me to dinner before. While I was angry that I’d missed her, knowing she was back in town and eager to see me lifted my spirits considerably.
I wolfed down my lunch, and decided to skip my Siaru lecture in favor of a trip to Imre. I hadn’t seen Denna in more than a span, and spending time with her was the only thing I could think of that might improve my mood.
My enthusiasm dampened a bit as I made my way over the river. It was a long walk, and my knees started to ache even before I’d made it to Stonebridge. The sun was piercingly bright, but not warm enough to fight the chill of the early winter wind. The dust off the road gusted into my eyes and made me choke.
