The Wise Man's Fear

by Patrick Rothfuss

  Simmon stood up. “We have to tell someone.” He looked at Wilem. “Would Jamison still be in his office at this time of night?”

  “Sim,” I said. “How about we just wait for a while?”

  “What?” Simmon said. “Why?”

  “The only evidence I have are my injuries,” I said. “That means they’ll want someone at the Medica to examine me. And when that happens . . .” With one hand still clamped over my bloody arm, I waved my bandaged elbow. “I look remarkably like someone who fell off a roof just a couple days ago.”

  Sim’s sat back down in his chair. “It’s only been three days, hasn’t it?”

  I nodded. “I’d be expelled. And Mola would be in trouble for not mentioning my injuries. Master Arwyl isn’t forgiving about that sort of thing. The two of you would probably be implicated too. I don’t want that.”

  We were quiet for a moment. The only sound was the distant clamor of the busy taproom below. I sat down on the bed.

  “Do we even need to discuss who’s doing this?” Sim asked.

  “Ambrose,” I said. “It’s always Ambrose. He must have found some of my blood on a piece of roofing tile. I should have thought of that days ago.”

  “How would he know it was yours?” Simmon asked.

  “Because I hate him,” I said bitterly. “Of course he knows it was me.”

  Wil was slowly shaking his head. “No. It’s not like him.”

  “Not like him?” Simmon demanded. “He had that woman dose Kvothe with the plum bob. That’s as bad as poison. He hired those men to jump Kvothe in the alley last term.”

  “My point exactly,” Wilem said. “Ambrose doesn’t do things to Kvothe. He arranges for other people to do them. He got some woman to dose him. He paid thugs to knife you. I expect he didn’t even do that, really. I’ll bet someone else set it up for him.”

  “It’s all the same,” I said. “We know he’s behind it.”

  Wilem frowned at me. “You’re not thinking straight. It’s not that Ambrose isn’t a bastard. He is. But he’s a clever bastard. He’s careful to distance himself from anything he does.”

  Sim looked uncertain. “Wil has a point. When you were hired on as house musician at the Horse and Four, he didn’t buy the place and fire you. He had Baron Petre’s son-in-law do it. No connection to him at all.”

  “No connection here either,” I said. “That’s the whole point of sympathy. It’s indirect.”

  Wil shook his head again. “If you got knifed in an alley people would be shocked. But such things happen all the time all over the world. But if you fell down in public and started gushing blood from malfeasance? People would be horrified. The masters would suspend classes. Rich merchants and nobles would hear of it and pull their children from their studies. They’d bring the constables over from Imre.”

  Simmon rubbed his forehead and looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully. Then he nodded to himself, first slowly, then with more certainty. “It makes sense,” he said. “If Ambrose had found some blood, he could have turned it over to Jamison and had him dowse out the thief. There wouldn’t have been any need to get folks in the Medica to look for suspicious injuries and such.”

  “Ambrose likes his revenge,” I pointed out grimly. “He could have hidden the blood from Jamison. Kept it for himself.”

  Wilem was shaking his head.

  Sim sighed. “Wil’s right. There aren’t that many sympathists, and everyone knows Ambrose is carrying a grudge against you. He’s too careful to do something like this. It would point right to him.”

  “Besides,” Wilem said. “How long has this been going on? Days and days. Do you honestly think Ambrose could go this long without rubbing your nose in it? Not even a little?”

  “You have a point,” I admitted reluctantly. “That’s not like him.”

  I knew it had to be Ambrose. I could feel it deep in my gut. In a strange way I almost wanted it to be him. It would make things so much simpler.

  But wanting something doesn’t make it so. I took a deep breath and forced myself to think about it rationally.

  “It would be reckless of him,” I admitted at last. “And he isn’t the sort to get his hands dirty.” I sighed. “Fine. Wonderful. As if one person trying to ruin my life wasn’t enough.”

  “Who could it be?” Simmon asked. “Your average person can’t do this sort of thing with hair, am I right?”

  “Dal could,” I said. “Or Kilvin.”

  “It is probably safe to assume,” Wilem said dryly, “that none of the masters are trying to kill you.”

  “Then it has to be someone with his blood,” Sim said.

  I tried to ignore the sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach. “There is someone with my blood,” I said. “But I don’t think she could be responsible.”

  Wil and Sim turned to look at me, and I immediately regretted saying anything. “Why would someone have your blood?” Sim asked.

  I hesitated, then realized there was no way to avoid telling them at this point. “I borrowed money from Devi at the beginning of the term.”

  Neither one of them reacted the way I expected. Which is to say, neither one reacted at all.

  “Who’s Devi?” Sim asked.

  I started to relax. Maybe they hadn’t heard of her. That would certainly make things easier. “She’s a gaelet who lives across the river,” I said.

  “Okay,” Simmon said easily. “What’s a gaelet?”

  “Remember when we went to see The Ghost and the Goosegirl?” I asked him. “Ketler was a gaelet.”

  “Oh, a copper hawk,” Sim said, his face brightening with realization, then darkening again as he realized the implications. “I didn’t know there were any of those sort of people around here.”

  “Those sort of people are everywhere,” I said. “The world wouldn’t work without them.”

  “Wait,” Wilem said suddenly, holding up his hand. “Did you say, your . . .” He paused, struggling to remember the appropriate word in Aturan. “Your loaner, your gatessor was named Devi?” His Cealdish accent was thick around her name, so it sounded like “David.”

  I nodded. This was the reaction I’d expected.

  “Oh God,” Simmon said, aghast. “You mean Demon Devi, don’t you?”

  I sighed. “So you’ve heard of her.”

  “Heard of her?” Sim said, his voice going shrill. “She was expelled during my first term! It left a real impression.”

  Wilem simply closed his eyes and shook his head, as if he couldn’t bear to look at someone as stupid as me.

  Sim threw his hands into the air. “She was expelled for malfeasance! What were you thinking?”

  “No,”Wilem said to Simmon. “She was expelled for Conduct Unbecoming. There was no proof of malfeasance.”

  “I really don’t think it was her,” I said. “She’s quite nice, actually. Friendly. Besides, it’s only a six talent loan, and I’m not late paying her back. She doesn’t have any reason to do something like this.”

  Wilem gave me a long, steady look. “Just to explore all possibilities,” he said slowly. “Would you do something for me?”

  I nodded.

  “Think back on your last few conversings with her,” Wilem said. “Take a moment and sift them piece by piece and see if you remember doing or saying something that might have offended or upset her.”

  I thought back on our last conversation, playing it through in my head. “She was interested in a certain piece of information that I didn’t give her.”

  “How interested?” Wilem’s voice was slow and patient, as if he were talking to a rather dimwitted child.

  “Rather interested,” I said.

  “Rather does not indicate a degree of intensity.”

  I sighed. “Fine. Extremely interested. Interested enough to—” I stopped.

  Wilem arched a knowing eyebrow at me. “Yes? What have you just remembered?”

  I hesitated. “She might have also offered to sleep with me,” I said.
>
  Wilem nodded calmly, as if he had expected something of the sort. “And you responded to this young woman’s generous offer in what way?”

  I felt my cheeks get hot. “I . . . I sort of just ignored it.”

  Wilem closed his eyes, his expression conveying a vast, weary dismay.

  “This is so much worse than Ambrose,” Sim said, putting his head in his hands. “Devi doesn’t have to worry about the masters or anything. They say she could do an eight-part binding! Eight!”

  “I was in a tight space,” I said a little testily. “I didn’t have anything to use as collateral. I’ll admit it wasn’t a great idea. After all this is done, we can have a symposium on how stupid I am. But for now can we just move on?” I gave them a pleading look.

  Wilem rubbed at his eyes with one hand and gave a weary nod.

  Simmon made an effort to get rid of his horrified expression with only marginal success. He swallowed. “Fair enough. What are we going to do?”

  “Right now it doesn’t really matter who is responsible,” I said, cautiously checking to see if my arm had stopped bleeding. It had, and I peeled my bloody hand away. “I’m going to take some precautionary measures.” I made a shooing motion. “You two go get some sleep.”

  Sim rubbed his forehead, chuckling to himself. “Body of God, you’re irritating sometimes. What if you’re attacked again?”

  “It’s already happened twice while we’ve been sitting here,” I said easily. “It tingles a bit.” I grinned at his expression. “I’m fine, Sim. Honestly. There’s a reason I’m the top-ranked duelist in Dal’s class. I’m perfectly safe.”

  “As long as you’re awake,” Wilem interjected, his dark eyes serious.

  My grin grew stiff. “As long as I’m awake,” I repeated. “Of course.”

  Wilem stood up and made a show of brushing himself off. “So. Clean yourself and take your precautionary measures.” He gave me a pointed look. “Shall young master Simmon and I expect Dal’s top-ranked duelist in my room tonight?”

  I felt myself flush with embarrassment. “Why, yes. That would be greatly appreciated.”

  Wil gave me an exaggerated bow, then opened the door and made his way out into the hall.

  Sim was wearing a wide grin by now. “It’s a date then. But put on a shirt before you come. I’ll watch over you tonight like the colicky infant you are, but I refuse to do it if you insist on sleeping naked.”

  After Wil and Sim left, I headed out the window and onto the rooftops. I left my shirt in my room, as I was a bloody mess and I didn’t want to ruin it. I trusted the dark night and the lateness of the hour, hoping no one would spot me running along the University rooftops half naked and bloody.

  It is relatively easy to protect yourself from sympathy if you know what you’re doing. Someone trying to burn or stab me, or draw off my body heat until I lapsed into hypothermia, all those things deal with the simple, direct application of force, so they are easy to oppose. I was safe now that I knew what was happening and kept my defenses up.

  My new concern was that whoever was attacking me might get discouraged and try something different. Something like dowsing out my location, then resorting to a more mundane type of attack, one I couldn’t stave off with an effort of will.

  Malfeasance is terrifying, but a thug with a sharp knife will kill you ten times quicker if he catches you in a dark alley. And catching someone off their guard is remarkably easy if you can track their every movement using their blood.

  So I headed across the rooftops. My plan was to take a handful of autumn leaves, mark them with my blood, and send them tumbling endlessly around the House of the Wind. It was a trick I’d used before.

  But as I jumped across a narrow alley, I saw lightning flicker in the clouds and smelled rain in the air. A storm was coming. Not only would the rain mat down the leaves, keeping them from moving around, but it would wash my blood away as well.

  Standing there on the rooftop, feeling like I’d had twelve colors of hell beaten out of me, brought back unsettling echoes of my years in Tarbean. I watched the distant lightning for a moment and tried not to let the feeling overwhelm me. I forced myself to remember I wasn’t the same helpless starving child I’d been back then.

  I heard the faint, drumlike sound as a piece of tin roofing bent behind me. I stiffened, then relaxed as I heard Auri’s voice, “Kvothe?”

  I looked to my right and saw her small shape standing a dozen feet away. The clouds were hiding the moon, but I could hear a smile in her voice as she said, “I saw you running across the tops of things.”

  I turned the rest of the way around to face her, glad there wasn’t much light. I didn’t like to think how Auri might react to the sight of me half naked and covered in blood.

  “Hello Auri,” I said. “There’s a storm coming. You shouldn’t be up on the tops of things tonight.”

  She tilted her head. “You are,” she said simply.

  I sighed. “I am. But only—”

  A great spider of lightning crawled across the sky, illuminating everything for the space of a long second. Then it was gone, leaving me flash-blind.

  “Auri?” I called, worried the sight of me had scared her off.

  There was another flicker of lightning, and I saw her standing closer. She pointed at me, grinning delightedly. “You look like an Amyr,” she said. “Kvothe is one of the Ciridae.”

  I looked down at myself and with the next lightning flicker I saw what she meant. I had dried blood running down the back of my hands from when I’d been trying to stanch my wounds. It looked like the old tattoos the Amyr had used to mark their highest ranking members.

  I was so surprised by her reference that I forgot the first thing I’d learned about Auri. I forgot to be careful and asked her a question, “Auri, how do you know about the Ciridae?”

  There was no response. The next flicker of lightning showed me nothing but an empty rooftop and an unforgiving sky.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Clinks

  ISTOOD ON THE ROOFTOPS with the storm flickering overhead, my heart heavy in my chest. I wanted to follow Auri and apologize, but I knew it was hopeless. The wrong sort of questions made her run, and when Auri bolted, she was like a rabbit down a hole. There were a thousand places she could hide in the Underthing. I didn’t have a chance of finding her.

  Besides, I had vital matters to attend to. Even now someone could be dowsing out my location. I simply didn’t have the time.

  It took me the better part of an hour to make my way across the rooftops. The flickering light of the storm made things harder rather than easier, blinding me for long moments after every flash. Still, I eventually made my limping way to the roof of Mains where I typically met Auri.

  Stiffly, I climbed down the apple tree to the enclosed courtyard. I was about to call down through the heavy metal grating that led to the Underthing when I saw a flicker of movement in the shadow of the nearby bushes.

  I peered into the dark, unable to see anything but a vague shape. “Auri?” I asked gently.

  “I don’t like telling,” she said softly, her voice thick with tears. Of all the awful things I’d been part of these last couple days, this was unquestionably the worst of it.

  “I’m so sorry, Auri,” I said. “I won’t ask again. I promise.”

  There was a tiny sob from the shadows that froze my heart solid and broke off a piece of it.

  “What were you doing out on top of things tonight?” I asked. I knew this was a safe question. I’d asked it many times before.

  “I was looking at the lightning,” she said, sniffling. Then, “I saw one that looked like a tree.”

  “What was in the lightning?” I asked softly.

  “Galvanic ionization,” she said. Then, after a pause, she added, “And river-ice. And the sway a cattail makes.”

  “I wish I’d seen that one,” I said.

  “What were you doing on top of things.” She paused and gave a tiny hiccuping laugh. �
��All crazy and mostly nekkid?”

  My heart began to thaw a bit. “I was looking for a place to put my blood,” I said.

  “Most people keep that inside,” she said. “It’s easier.”

  “I want to keep the rest of it inside,” I explained. “But I’m worried someone might be looking for me.”

  “Oh,” she said, as if she understood perfectly. I saw the slightly darker shadow of her move in the darkness, standing up. “You should come with me to Clinks.”

  “I don’t think I’ve seen Clinks,” I said. “Have you taken me there before?”

  There was a motion that might have been the shaking of a head. “It’s private.”

  I heard a metallic noise, then a rustle, then I saw a blue-green light well up from the open grate. I climbed down and met her in the tunnel underneath.

  The light in her hand showed smudges across her face, probably from where she’d been rubbing away her tears. It was the first time I’d ever seen Auri dirty. Her eyes were darker than normal, and her nose was red.

  Auri sniffed and rubbed her blotchy face. “You,” she said gravely, “are a dreadful mess.”

  I looked down at my bloody hands and chest. “I am,” I agreed.

  Then she gave a tiny, brave smile. “I didn’t run so far this time,” she said tilting her chin proudly.

  “I’m glad,” I said. “And I’m sorry.”

  “No.” She gave her head a tiny, firm shake. “You are my Ciridae, and thus above reproach.” She reached out to touch the center of my bloody chest with a finger. “Ivare enim euge.”

  Auri led me through the maze of tunnels that comprised the Underthing. We went farther down, through Vaults, past Cricklet. Then we moved through several twisting hallways and down again, using a stone spiral staircase I’d never seen before.

  I smelled damp stone and heard the low, smooth sound of running water as we descended. Every once in a while there was the gritty sound of glass on stone, or the brighter tinkling sound of glass on glass.

  After about fifty steps the wide, spiraling staircase disappeared into a vast, roiling pool of black water. I wondered how far the stairs continued below the surface.