The Wise Man's Fear

Dark Laurian, Arliden’s wife,
Has a face like the blade of a knife
Has a voice like a pricklebrown burr
But can tally a sum like a moneylender.
My sweet Tally cannot cook.
But she keeps a tidy ledger-book
For all her faults, I do confess
It’s worth my life
To make my wife
Not tally a lot less . . .

I felt oddly numb, disconnected from my own body. Strangely, while the memory was sharp, it wasn’t painful.

“I can see how that might earn a man a place under the wagon,” Wilem said gravely.

“It wasn’t that,” I heard myself saying. “She was beautiful, and they both knew it. They used to tease each other all the time. It was the meter. She hated the awful meter.”

I never talked about my parents, and referring to them in the past tense felt uncomfortable. Disloyal. Wil and Sim weren’t surprised by my revelation. Anyone who knew me could tell I had no family. I’d never said anything, but they were good friends. They knew.

“In Atur we sleep in the kennels when our wives are angry,” Simmon said, nudging the conversation back into safer territory.

“Melosi rehu eda Stiti,” Wilem muttered.

“Aturan!” Simmon shouted, his voice bubbling with amusement. “No more of your donkey talk!”

“Eda Stiti?” I repeated. “You sleep next to fire?”

Wilem nodded.

“I am officially protesting how quickly you picked up Siaru,” Sim said, holding up a finger. “I studied a year before I was any good. A year! You gobble it up in a single term.”

“I learned a lot growing up,” I said. “I was just getting the fine points this term.”

“Your accent is better,” Wil said to Sim. “Kvothe sounds like some southern trader. Very low. You sound much more refined.”

Sim seemed mollified by that. “Next to the fire,” he repeated. “Does it seem odd that it’s the men that always have to do their sleeping somewhere else?”

“It’s pretty obvious women control the bed,” I said.

“Not an unpleasant thought,” Sim said. “Depending on the woman.”

“Distrel is pretty,” Sim said.

“Keh,” Wil said. “Too pale. Fela.”

Simmon shook his head mournfully. “Out of our league.”

“She is Modegan,” Wilem said, his grin so wide it was almost demonic.

“She is?” Sim asked. Wil nodded, wearing the widest smile I’d ever seen on his face. Sim sighed wretchedly. “It figures. Bad enough that she’s the prettiest girl in the Commonwealth, I didn’t know she was Modegan, too.”

“I’ll grant you prettiest girl on her side of the river,” I corrected. “On this side, there’s—”

“You’ve already gone on about your Denna,” Wil interrupted. “Five times.”

“Listen,” Simmon said, his tone suddenly serious. “You just have to make your move. This Denna girl is obviously interested in you.”

“She hasn’t said anything along those lines.”

“They never say they’re interested.” Simmon laughed at the absurdity of it. “There are little games. It’s like a dance.” He held up two hands, making them talk to each other. “ ‘Oh, fancy meeting you here.’ ‘Why hello, I was just going to lunch.’ ‘What a happy coincidence, so was I. Can I carry your books?’ ”

I held up a hand to stop him. “Can we skip to the end of this puppet show, where you end up sobbing into your beer for a span of days?”

Simmon scowled at me. Wilem laughed.

“She has enough men fawning over her,” I said. “They come and go like . . .” I strained to think of an analogy and failed. “I’d rather be her friend.”

“You would rather be close to her heart,” Wilem said without any particular inflection. “You would rather be joyfully held in the circle of her arms. But you fear she will reject you. You fear she would laugh and you would look the fool.” Wilem shrugged easily. “You are hardly the first to feel this way. There is no shame in it.”

That struck uncomfortably close to the mark, and for a long moment I couldn’t think of anything to say in reply. “I hope,” I admitted quietly. “But I don’t want to assume. I’ve seen what happens to the men that assume too much and cling to her.”

Wilem nodded solemnly.

“She bought you that lute case,” Sim said helpfully. “That has to mean something.”

“But what does it mean?” I said. “It seems like she’s interested, but what if it’s just wishful thinking on my part? All those other men must think she’s interested too. But they’re obviously wrong. What if I’m wrong too?”

“You’ll never know unless you try,” Sim said, with a bitter edge to his voice. “That’s what I’d normally say. But, you know what? It doesn’t work worth a damn. I chase them and they kick at me like I’m a dog at the dinner table. I’m tired of trying so hard.” He gave a weary sigh, still flat on his back. “All I want is someone who likes me.”

“All I want is a clear sign,” I said.

“I want a magical horse that fits in my pocket,” Wil said. “And a ring of red amber that gives me power over demons. And an endless supply of cake.”

There was another moment of comfortable quiet. The wind brushed gently through the trees.

“They say the Ruh know all the stories in the world,” Simmon said after a while.

“Probably true,” I admitted.

“Tell one,” he said.

I eyed him narrowly.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he protested. “I’m in the mood for a story, that’s all.”

“We are somewhat lacking for entertainment,” Wilem said.

“Fine, fine. Let me think.” I closed my eyes and a story with Amyr in it bubbled to the surface. Hardly surprising. They had been on my mind constantly since Nina had found me.

I sat up straight. “All right,” I took a breath, then paused. “If either of you have to go piss, do it now. I don’t like having to stop halfway through.”

Silence.

“Okay.” I cleared my throat. “There is a place not many folk have seen. A strange place called Faeriniel. If you believe the stories, there are two things that make Faeriniel unique. First, it is where all the roads in the world meet. Second, it is not a place any man has ever found by searching. It is not a place you travel to, it is the place you pass through while on your way to somewhere else.

“They say that anyone who travels long enough will come there. This is a story of that place, and of an old man on a long road, and of a long and lonely night without a moon. . . .”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN A Piece of Fire