The Lightning Tree

by Patrick Rothfuss

  the ground. He made it all look somehow

  … well … dashing.

  He worked a hard half hour, at which

  time Nettie came out of the house,

  carrying a glass of water and a handful of

  fat carrots with the loose greens still

  attached. “I’m sure that’s at least six

  carrots’ worth of work,” she said,

  smiling at him.

  Bast took the glass of water, drank half

  of it, then bent over and poured the rest

  over his head. He shook himself off a bit,

  then stood back up, his dark hair curling

  and clinging to his face. “Are you sure

  there’s nothing else you could use a hand

  with?” he asked, giving her an easy grin.

  His eyes were dark and smiling and

  bluer than the sky.

  Nettie shook her head. Her hair was out

  of her braid now, and when she looked

  down, the loose curls of it fell partly

  across her face. “I can’t think of

  anything,” she said.

  “I’m a dab hand with honey, too,” Bast

  said, hoisting the axe to rest against his

  naked shoulder.

  She looked a little puzzled at that until

  Bast nodded toward the wooden hives

  scattered through the overgrown field.

  “Oh,” she said, as if remembering a half-

  forgotten dream. “I used to do candles

  and honey. But we lost a few hives to

  that bad winter three years back. Then

  one to nits. Then there was that wet

  spring and three more went down with

  the chalk before we even knew.” She

  shrugged. “Early this summer we sold

  one to the Hestles so we’d have money

  for the levy …”

  She shook her head again, as if she’d

  been daydreaming. She shrugged and

  turned back to look at Bast. “Do you

  know about bees?”

  “A fair bit,” Bast said softly. “They

  aren’t hard to handle. They just need

  patience and gentleness.” He casually

  swung the axe so it stuck in the nearby

  stump. “They’re the same as everything

  else, really. They just want to know

  they’re safe.”

  Nettie was looking out at the field,

  nodding along with Bast’s words

  unconsciously. “There’s only the two

  left,” she said. “Enough for a few

  candles. A little honey. Not much. Hardly

  worth the bother, really.”

  “Oh come now,” Bast said gently. “A

  little sweetness is all any of us have

  sometimes. It’s always worth it. Even if

  it takes some work.”

  Nettie turned to look at him. She met his

  eyes now. Not speaking, but not looking

  away either. Her eyes were like an open

  door.

  Bast smiled, gentle and patient, his

  voice was warm and sweet as honey. He

  held out his hand. “Come with me,” he

  said. “I have something to show you.”

  The sun was starting to sink toward the western trees by the time Bast returned to

  the lightning tree. He was limping

  slightly, and he had dirt in his hair, but he

  seemed to be in good spirits.

  There were two children at the bottom

  of the hill, sitting on the greystone and

  swinging their feet as if it were a huge

  stone bench. Bast didn’t even have time

  to sit down before they came up the hill

  together.

  It was Wilk, a serious boy of ten with

  shaggy blond hair. At his side was his

  little sister Pem, half his age with three

  times the mouth.

  The boy nodded at Bast as he came to

  the top of the hill, then he looked down.

  “You hurt your hand,” he said.

  Bast looked down at his hand and was

  surprised to see a few dark streaks of

  blood dripping down the side of it. He

  brought out his handkerchief and daubed

  at it.

  “What happened?” little Pem asked

  him.

  “I was attacked by a bear,” he lied

  nonchalantly.

  The boy nodded, giving no indication of

  whether or not he believed it was true. “I

  need a riddle that will stump Tessa,” the

  boy said. “A good one.”

  “You

  smell

  like

  granda,”

  Pem

  chirruped as she came up to stand beside

  her brother.

  Wilk ignored her. Bast did the same.

  “Okay,” said Bast. “I need a favor, I’ll

  trade you. A favor for a riddle.”

  “You smell like granda when he’s been

  at his medicine,” Pem clarified.

  “It has to be a good one though,” Wilk

  stressed. “A stumper.”

  “Show me something that’s never been

  seen before and will never be seen

  again,” Bast said.

  “Hmmm …” Wilk said, looking

  thoughtful.

  “Granda says he feels loads better with

  his medicine,” Pem said, louder, plainly

  irritated at being ignored. “But Mum says

  it’s not medicine. She says he’s on the

  bottle. And granda says he feels loads

  better so it’s medicine by dammit.” She

  looked back and forth between Bast and

  Wilk, as if daring them to scold her.

  Neither of them did. She looked a little

  crestfallen.

  “That is a good one,” Wilk admitted at

  last. “What’s the answer?”

  Bast gave a slow grin. “What will you

  trade me for it?”

  Wilk cocked his head on one side, “I

  already said. A favor.”

  “I traded you the riddle for a favor,”

  Bast said easily. “But now you’re asking

  for the answer …”

  Wilk looked confused for half a

  moment, then his face went red and

  angry. He drew a deep breath as if he

  were going to shout. Then seemed to

  think better of it and stormed down the

  hill, stomping his feet.

  His sister watched him go, then turned

  back to Bast. “Your shirt is ripped,” she

  said disapprovingly. “And you’ve got

  grass stains on your pants. Your mam is

  going to give you a hiding.”

  “No she won’t,” Bast said smugly.

  “Because I’m all grown, and I can do

  whatever I want with my pants. I could

  light them on fire and I wouldn’t get in

  any trouble at all.”

  The little girl stared at him with

  smoldering envy.

  Wilk stomped back up the hill. “Fine,”

  he said sullenly.

  “My favor first,” Bast said. He handed

  the boy a small bottle with a cork in the

  top. “I need you to fill this up with water

  that’s been caught midair.”

  “What?” Wilk said.

  “Naturally falling water,” Bast said.

  “You can’t dip it out of a barrel or a

  stream. You have to catch it while it’s

  still in the air.”

  “Water falls out of a pump when yo
u

  pump it …” Wilk said without any real

  hope in his voice.

  “Naturally falling water,” Bast said

  again, stressing the first word. “It’s no

  good if someone just stands on a chair

  and pours it out of a bucket.”

  “What do you need it for?” Pem asked

  in her little piping voice.

  “What will you trade me for the answer

  to that question?” Bast said.

  The little girl went pale and slapped

  one hand across her mouth.

  “It might not rain for days, ” Wilk said.

  Pem gave a gusty sigh. “It doesn’t have

  to be rain,” his sister said, her voice

  dripping with condescension. “You

  could just go to the waterfall by

  Littlecliff and fill the bottle there.”

  Wilk blinked.

  Bast grinned at her. “You’re a clever

  girl.”

  She rolled her eyes, “Everybody says

  that …”

  Bast brought out something from his

  pocket and held it. It was a green

  cornhusk wrapped around a daub of

  sticky honeycomb. The little girl’s eyes

  lit up when she saw it.

  “I also need twenty-one perfect

  acorns,” he said. “No holes, with all

  their little hats intact. If you gather them

  for me over by the waterfall, I’ll give

  you this.”

  She nodded eagerly. Then both she and

  her brother hurried down the hill.

  Bast went back down to the pool by the

  spreading willow and took another bath.

  It wasn’t his usual bathing time, so there

  were no birds waiting, and as a result the

  bath was much more matter-of-fact than

  before.

  He quickly rinsed himself clean of

  sweat and honey and he daubed a bit at

  his clothes too, scrubbing to get rid of the

  grass stains and the smell of whiskey.

  The cold water stung the cuts on his

  knuckles a bit, but they were nothing

  serious and would mend well enough on

  their own.

  Naked and dripping, he pulled himself

  from the pool and found a dark rock, hot

  from the long day of sun. He draped his

  clothes over it and let them bake dry

  while he shook his hair dry and stripped

  the water from his arms and chest with

  his hands.

  Then he made his way back to the

  lightning tree, picked a long piece of

  grass

  to

  chew

  on,

  and

  almost

  immediately fell asleep in the golden

  afternoon sunlight.

  Evening: Lessons

  Hours later, the evening shadows

  stretched to cover Bast, and he shivered

  himself awake.

  He sat up, rubbing his face and looking

  around blearily. The sun was just

  beginning to brush the tops of the western

  trees. Wilk and Pem hadn’t returned, but

  that was hardly a surprise. He ate the

  piece of honeycomb he’d promised Pem,

  licking his fingers slowly. Then he

  chewed the wax idly and watched a pair

  of hawks turn lazy circles in the sky.

  Eventually he heard a whistle from the

  trees. He got to his feet and stretched, his

  body bending like a bow. Then he

  sprinted down the hill … except, in the

  fading light it didn’t quite look like a

  sprint.

  If he were a boy of ten, it would have

  looked like skipping. But he was no boy.

  If he were a goat, it would have looked like he were prancing. But he was no

  goat. A man headed down the hill that

  quickly, it would have looked like he

  were running.

  But there was something odd about

  Bast’s motion in the fading light.

  Something hard to describe. He almost

  looked

  like

  he

  were

  …

  what?

  Frolicking? Dancing?

  Small matter. Suffice to say that he

  quickly made his way to the edge of the

  clearing where Rike stood in the growing

  dark beneath the trees.

  “I’ve got it,” the boy said triumphantly,

  he held up his hand, but the needle was

  invisible in the dark.

  “You borrowed it?” Bast asked. “Not

  traded or bargained for it?”

  Rike nodded.

  “Okay,” Bast said. “Follow me.”

  The two of them walked over to the

  greystone, Rike following wordlessly

  when Bast climbed up one side of the

  half-fallen stone. The sunlight was still

  strong there, and both of them had plenty

  of space to stand on the broad back of the

  tilted greystone. Rike looked around

  anxiously, as if worried someone might

  see him.

  “Let’s see the stone,” Bast said.

  Rike dug into his pocket and held it out

  to Bast.

  Bast pulled his hand back suddenly, as

  if the boy had tried to hand him a

  glowing coal. “Don’t be stupid,” he

  snapped. “It’s not for me. The charm is

  only going to work for one person. Do

  you want that to be me?”

  The boy brought his hand back and eyed

  the stone. “What do you mean one

  person?”

  “It’s the way of charms,” Bast said.

  “They only work for one person at a

  time.” Seeing the boy’s confusion written

  plainly on his face, Bast sighed. “You

  know how some girls make come-hither

  charms, hoping to catch a boy’s eye?”

  Rike nodded, blushing a little.

  “This is the opposite,” Bast said. “It’s a

  go-thither charm. You’re going to prick

  your finger, get a drop of your blood on

  it, and that will seal it. It will make

  things go away.”

  Rike looked down at the stone. “What

  sort of things?” he said.

  “Anything that wants to hurt you,” Bast

  said easily. “You can just keep it in your

  pocket, or you can get a piece of cord—”

  “It will make my da leave?” Rike

  interrupted.

  Bast frowned. “That’s what I said.

  You’re his blood. So it will push him

  away more strongly than anything else.

  You’ll probably want to hang it around

  your neck so—”

  “What about a bear?” Rike asked,

  looking at the stone thoughtfully. “Would

  it make a bear leave me alone?”

  Bast made a back-and-forth motion

  with his hand. “Wild things are

  different,” he said. “They’re possessed

  of pure desire. They don’t want to hurt

  you. They usually want food, or safety. A

  bear would—”

  “Can I give it to my mum?” Rike

  interrupted again, looking up at Bast. His

  dark eyes serious.

  “… want to protect its terr … What?”

  Bast stumbled to a halt.

  “My mum should have it,” Rike said.
>
  “What if I was off away with the charm

  and my da came back?”

  “He’s going farther away than that,”

  Bast said, his voice thick with certainty.

  “It’s not like he’ll be hiding around the

  corner at the smithy …”

  Rike’s face was set now, his pug nose

  making him seem all the more stubborn.

  He shook his head. “She should have it.

  She’s important. She has to take care of

  Tess and little Bip.”

  “It will work just fine—”

  “It’s got to be for HER!” Rike shouted,

  his hand making a fist around the stone.

  “You said it could be for one person, so

  you make it be for her!”

  Bast scowled at the boy darkly. “I don’t

  like your tone,” he said grimly. “You

  asked me to make your da go away. And

  that’s what I’m doing …”

  “But what if it’s not enough?” Rike’s

  face was red.

  “It will be,” Bast said, absentmindedly

  rubbing his thumb across the knuckles of

  his hand. “He’ll go far away. You have

  my word—”

  “NO!” Rike said, his face going red and

  angry. “What if sending him isn’t

  enough? What if I grow up like my da? I

  get so …” His voice choked off, and his

  eyes started to leak tears. “I’m not good.

  I know it. I know better than anyone. Like

  you said. I got his blood in me. She needs

  to be safe from me. If I grow up twisted

  up and bad, she needs the charm to …

  she needs something to make me go a—”

  Rike clenched his teeth, unable to

  continue.

  Bast reached out and took hold of the

  boy’s shoulder. He was stiff and rigid as

  a plank of wood, but Bast gathered him

  in and put his arms around his shoulders.

  Gently, because he had seen the boy’s

  back. They stood there for a long

  moment, Rike stiff and tight as a

  bowstring, trembling like a sail tight

  against the wind.

  “Rike,” Bast said softly. “You’re a

  good boy. Do you know that?”

  The boy bent then, sagged against Bast

  and seemed like he would break himself

  apart with sobbing. His face was pressed

  into Bast’s stomach and he said

  something, but it was muffled and

  disjointed. Bast made a soft crooning

  sound of the sort you’d use to calm a

  horse or soothe a hive of restless bees.

  The storm passed, and Rike stepped

  quickly away and scrubbed at his face

  roughly with his sleeve. The sky was just

  starting to tinge red with sunset.

  “Right,” Bast said. “It’s time. We’ll

  make it for your mother. You’ll have to