The Name of the Wind (55 page)

I made my way to the edge of the roof. I looked down at the hedges and the apple tree. The windows were dark.

“Auri?” I called softly. “Are you there?” I waited, growing more nervous by the second. “Auri, are you hurt?”

Nothing. I began to curse under my breath.

Mola crossed her arms. “Right, I think I've been plenty patient here. Care to tell me what's going on?”

“Follow me and I'll explain.” I headed for the apple tree and began to climb carefully down. I walked around the hedge to the iron grate. The ammonia smell of bone-tar wafted up from the grate, faint but persistent. I tugged on the grate, and it lifted a few inches before catching on something. “I made a friend a few months ago,” I said, nervously sliding my hand between the bars. “She lives down here. I'm worried that she might be hurt. A lot of the reagent went down the drains from the Fishery.”

Mola was silent for a while. “You're serious.” I felt around in the dark under the grate, trying to figure out how Auri kept it closed. “What sort of person would live down there?”

“A frightened person,” I said. “A person who's afraid of loud noises, and people, and the open sky. It took me nearly a month to coax her out of the tunnels, let alone get close enough to talk.”

Mola sighed. “If you don't mind I'll have a seat.” She walked over to the bench. “I've been on my feet all day.”

I continued to feel around under the grate, but try as I might, I couldn't find a clasp anywhere. Growing increasingly frustrated, I grabbed the grate and tugged on it hard, again and again. It made several echoing metallic thumps but didn't come free.

“Kvothe?” I looked up to the edge of the roof and saw Auri standing there, a silhouette against the night sky, her fine hair made a cloud around her head.

“Auri!” The tension poured out of me, leaving me feeling weak and rubbery. “Where have you been?”

“There were clouds,” she said simply as she walked around the edge of the roof toward the apple tree. “So I went looking for you on top of things. But the moon's coming out, so I came back.”

Auri scampered down the tree, then pulled up short when she saw Mola's cloaked form sitting on the bench.

“I brought a friend to visit, Auri,” I said in my gentlest tones. “I hope you don't mind.”

There was a long pause. “Is he nice?”

“It's a she. And yes, she's nice.”

Auri relaxed a bit and came a few steps closer to me. “I brought you a feather with the spring wind in it, but since you were late…” she looked at me gravely, “you get a coin instead.” She held it out at arm's length, pinched between her thumb and forefinger. “It will keep you safe at night. As much as anything can, that is.” It was shaped like an Aturan penance piece, but it gleamed silver in the moonlight. I'd never seen a coin like it.

Kneeling, I opened my lute case and brought out a small bundle. “I've got some tomatoes, beans, and something special.” I held out the small sack I'd spent most of my money on two days ago, before all my troubles had started. “Sea salt.”

Auri took it, and peered inside the small leather sack. “Why this is lovely, Kvothe. What lives in the salt?”

Trace minerals,
I thought.
Chromium, bassal, malium, iodine…everything your body needs but probably can't get from apples and bread and whatever you manage to scrounge up when I can't find you.

“The dreams of fish,” I said. “And sailor's songs.”

Auri nodded, satisfied, and sat down, spreading out the small cloth and arranging her food with the same care as always. I watched her as she began to eat, dipping a green bean into the salt before taking a bite. She didn't seem hurt, but it was hard to tell by the pale moonlight. I needed to be sure. “Are you okay, Auri?”

She cocked her head at me, curious.

“There was a big fire. A lot of it went down the grates. Did you see it?”

“Holy God, yes,” she said, her eyes wide. “It was all over, and all the shrews and raccoons were running everyway, trying to get out.”

“Did any of it get on you?” I asked. “Did you get burned?”

She shook her head, grinning a child's sly smile. “Oh no. It couldn't catch me.”

“Were you close to the fire?” I asked. “Did you breathe any of the smoke?”

“Why would I breathe smoke?” Auri looked at me as if I were simple. “The whole Underthing smells like cat piss now.” She wrinkled her nose. “Except by Downing and in the Belows.”

I relaxed a bit, but I saw Mola begin to fidget where she was sitting on the bench. “Auri, can my friend come over?”

Auri froze with a bean halfway to her mouth, then relaxed and bobbed her head once, sending her fine hair swirling around her.

I beckoned to Mola who began to walk slowly toward us. I was a little uneasy at how their meeting would go. It had taken me over a month of gentle coaxing to draw Auri out from the tunnels underneath the University where she lived. I worried that a bad reaction from Mola might startle her back underground where I would have no chance of finding her.

I gestured to where Mola stood. “This is my friend Mola.”

“Hello, Mola.” Auri looked up and smiled. “You have sunny hair like me. Would you like an apple?”

Mola's expression was carefully blank. “Thank you, Auri. I'd like that.”

Auri jumped up and ran back to where the apple tree overhung the edge of the roof. Then ran back toward us, her hair flying behind her like a flag. She handed Mola an apple. “This one has a wish inside it,” she said matter-of-factly. “Make sure you know what you want before you take a bite.” That said, she settled back down and ate another bean, chewing primly.

Mola looked over the apple for a long moment before taking a bite.

Auri finished her meal quickly after that, and tied up the bag of salt. “Now play!” she said, excited. “Play!”

Smiling, I brought out my lute and brushed my hands over the strings. Thankfully my injured thumb was on my chording hand, where it would be a relatively minor inconvenience.

I looked at Mola as I tuned the strings. “You can go if you like,” I told her. “I wouldn't want to accidentally serenade you.”

“Oh you musn't go.” Auri turned to Mola, her expression deathly serious. “His voice is like a thunderstorm, and his hands know every secret hidden deep beneath the cool, dark earth.”

Mola's mouth quirked into a smile. “I suppose I could stay for that.”

So I played for both of them, while overhead the stars continued in their measured turning.

 

“Why haven't you told anyone?” Mola asked me as we made our way across the rooftops.

“It didn't seem like anyone's business,” I said. “If she wanted people to know she was there, I imagine she'd tell them herself.”

“You know what I mean,” Mola said, irritated.

“I know what you mean,” I sighed. “But what good would come of it? She's happy where she is.”

“Happy?” Mola sounded incredulous. “She's ragged and half-starved. She needs help. Food and clothes.”

“I bring her food,” I said. “And I'll bring her clothes too, as soon…” I hesitated, not wanting to admit my abject poverty, at least not in so many words. “As soon as I can manage it.”

“Why wait? If you just told someone…”

“Right,” I said sarcastically. “I'm sure Jamison would rush out here with a box of chocolates and a featherbed if he knew there was a starveling half-cracked student living under his University. They'd crock her and you know it.”

“Not necessarily…” She didn't even bother finishing, knowing what I'd said was true.

“Mola, if people come looking for her, she'll just rabbit down into the tunnels. They'll scare her away and I'll lose what chance I have to help her.”

Mola looked down at me, her arms folded across her chest. “Fine. For now. But you'll have to bring me back here later. I'll bring her some of my clothes. They'll be too big for her, but they'll be better than what she has.”

I shook my head. “It won't work. I brought her a secondhand dress a couple span ago. She says wearing someone else's clothes is filthy.”

Mola looked puzzled. “She didn't look Cealdish. Not even a little.”

“Maybe she was just raised that way.”

“Do you feel any better?”

“Yes,” I lied.

“You're shaking.” She stretched out a hand. “Here, lean on me.”

Pulling my new cloak close around me, I took her arm and made my slow way back to Anker's.

O
VER THE NEXT TWO span my new cloak kept me warm on my occasional walks to Imre, where I was consistently unsuccessful in finding Denna. I always had some reason to cross the river: borrowing a book from Devi, meeting Threpe for lunch, playing at the Eolian. But Denna was the real reason.

Kilvin sold the rest of my emitters, and my mood improved as my burns healed. I had money to spare for luxuries such as soap and a second shirt to replace the one I'd lost. Today I had gone to Imre for some bassal filings I needed for my current project: a large sympathy lamp using two emitters I'd saved for myself. I hoped to turn a tidy profit.

It may seem odd that I was constantly buying materials for my artificing over the river, but the truth was merchants near the University frequently took advantage of the students' laziness and raised their prices. It was worth the walk for me if I could save a couple of pennies.

After I finished my errand I headed to the Eolian. Deoch was at his usual post, leaning against the doorway. “I've been keeping an eye out for your girl,” he said.

Irritated at how transparent I must seem, I muttered, “She's
not
my girl.”

Deoch rolled his eyes. “Fine.
The
girl. Denna, Dianne, Dyanae…whatever she's calling herself these days. I haven't seen hide nor hair of her. I even asked around a little, nobody's seen her in a full span. That means she's probably left town. It's her way. She does it at the drop of a hat.”

I tried not to let my disappointment show. “You didn't have to go to the trouble,” I said. “But thanks all the same.”

“I wasn't asking entirely on your account,” Deoch admitted. “I've a fondness for her myself.”

“Do you now?” I said as neutrally as I could manage.

“Don't give me that look. I'm not any sort of competition.” He gave a crooked smile. “Not this time around at any rate. I might not be one of you University folk, but I can see the moon on a clear night. I'm smart enough not to stick my hand in the same fire twice.”

I struggled to get my expression back under control, more than slightly embarrassed. I don't usually let my emotions go parading around on my face. “So you and Denna…”

“Stanchion still gives me a hard time about chasing after a girl half my age.” He shrugged his broad shoulders sheepishly. “For all that, I am still fond of her. These days she reminds me of my littlest sister more than anything.”

“How long have you known her?” I asked, curious.

“I wouldn't say I really
know
her, lad. But I met her what, about two years back? Not that long, maybe a year and little change….” Deoch ran both of his hands through his blond hair and arched his back in a great stretch, the muscles in his arms straining against his shirt. Then he relaxed with an explosive sigh and looked out at the nearly empty courtyard. “The door won't be busy for hours yet. Come give an old man an excuse to sit and have a drink?” He jerked his head in the direction of the bar.

I looked at Deoch: tall, muscular, and tan. “Old man? You've still got all your hair and your teeth, don't you? What are you, thirty?”

“Nothing makes a man feel older than a young woman.” He laid a hand on my shoulder. “Come on, share a drink with me.” We made our way over to the long mahogany bar and he muttered as he looked over the bottles. “Beer dulls a memory, brand sets it burning, but wine is the best for a sore heart's yearning.” He paused and turned to looked at me, his brow furrowed. “I can't remember the rest of that. Can you?”

“Never heard it before,” I said. “But Teccam claims that out of all the spirits, only wine is suited to reminiscence. He said a good wine allows clarity and focus, while still allowing a bit of comforting coloration of the memory.”

“Fair enough,” he said, picking through the racks before drawing out a bottle and holding it up to a lamp, peering through it. “Let's view her in a rosy light, shall we?” He grabbed two glasses and led us off to a secluded booth in the corner of the room.

“So you've known Denna for a while,” I prompted as he poured each of us a glass of pale red wine.

He slouched back against the wall. “Off and on. More off, honestly.”

“What was she like back then?”

Deoch spent several long moments pondering his answer, giving the question more serious consideration than I'd expected. He sipped his wine. “The same,” he said at last. “I suppose she was younger, but I can't say she seems any older now. She always struck me as being older than her years.” He frowned. “Not
old
really, more…”

“Mature?” I suggested.

He shook his head. “No. I don't know a good word for it. It's like if you look at a great oak tree. You don't appreciate it because it's older than the other trees, or because it's taller. It just has something that other younger trees don't. Complexity, solidity, significance.” Deoch scowled, irritated. “Damn if that isn't the worst comparison I've ever made.”

A smile broke onto my face. “It's nice to see I'm not the only one who has trouble pinning her down with words.”

“She's not much for being pinned down,” Deoch agreed and drank off the rest of his wine. He picked up the bottle and tapped the mouth of it lightly against my glass. I emptied it, and he poured again for both of us.

Deoch continued, “She was just as restless then, and wild. Just as pretty, prone to startle the eye and stutter the heart.” He shrugged again. “As I said, largely the same. Lovely voice, light of foot, quick of tongue, men's adoration and women's scorn in roughly equal amounts.”

“Scorn?” I asked.

Deoch looked at me as if he didn't understand what I was asking. “Women hate Denna,” he said plainly, as if repeating something we both already knew.

“Hate her?” The thought baffled me. “Why?”

Deoch looked at me incredulously, then burst out laughing. “Good lord, you really don't know anything about women, do you?” I would ordinarily have bristled at his comment, but Deoch was nothing but good natured. “Think of it. She's pretty and charming. Men crowd round her like stags in rut.” He made a flippant gesture. “Women are bound to resent it.”

I remembered what Sim had said about Deoch not a span ago.
He's managed to get the most beautiful woman in the place again. It's enough to make you hate a man.
“I've always felt she was rather lonely,” I volunteered. “Maybe that's why.”

Deoch nodded solemnly. “There's truth to that. I never see her in the company of other womenfolk, and she has about as much luck with men as…” He paused, groping for a comparison. “As…damn.” He gave a frustrated sigh.

“Well, you know what they say: Finding the right analogy is as hard as…” I put on a thoughtful expression. “As hard as…” I made an inarticulate grasping gesture.

Deoch laughed and poured more wine for both of us. I began to relax. There is a sort of camaraderie that rarely exists except between men who have fought the same enemies and known the same women. “Did she tend to disappear back then, too?” I asked.

He nodded. “No warning, just suddenly gone. Sometimes for a span. Sometimes for months.”

“‘No fickleness in flight like that of wind or women's fancy,'” I quoted. I meant it to be musing, but it came out bitter. “Do you have any guess as to why?”

“I've given some thought to that,” Deoch said philosophically. “In part I think it is her nature. It could be she simply has wandering blood.”

My irritation cooled a bit at his words. Back in my troupe, my father occasionally made us pull up stakes and leave a town despite the fact that we were welcome and the crowds were generous. Later, he would often explain his reasoning to me: a glare from the constable, too many fond sighs from the young wives in town….

But sometimes he had no reason.
We Ruh are meant to travel, son. When my blood tells me to wander, I know enough to trust it.

“Her circumstances are probably responsible for most of it,” Deoch continued.

“Circumstances?” I asked, curious. She never talked of her past when we were together, and I was always careful not to press her. I knew what it was like, not wanting to talk too much about your past.

“Well, she doesn't have any family or means of support. No long-standing friends able to help her out of a tight spot if the need arises.”

“I haven't got any of those things either,” I groused, the wine making me a little surly.

“There's more than a little difference there,” Deoch said with a hint of reproach. “A man has a great many opportunities to make his way in the world. You've found yourself a place at the University, and if you hadn't you would still have options.” He looked at me with a knowing eye. “What options are available to a young, pretty girl with no family? No dowry? No home?”

He began to hold up fingers. “There's begging and whoring. Or being some lord's mistress, which is a different slice of the same loaf. And we know our Denna doesn't have it in her to be a kept woman or someone's dox.”

“There's other work to be had,” I said holding up fingers of my own. “Seamstress, weaver, serving girl…”

Deoch snorted and gave me a disgusted look. “Come now lad, you're smarter than that. You know what those places are like. And you know that a pretty girl with no family ends up being taken advantage of just as often as a whore, and paid less for her trouble.”

I flushed a bit at his rebuke, more than I would have normally, as I was feeling the wine. It was making my lips and the tips of my fingers a little numb.

Deoch filled our glasses again. “She's not to be looked down on for moving where the wind blows her. She has to take her opportunities where she finds them. If she gets the chance to travel with some folk who like her singing, or with a merchant who hopes her pretty face will help him sell his wares, who's to blame her for pulling up stakes and leaving town?

“And if she trades on her charm a bit, I'll not look down on her because of it. Young gents court her, buy her presents, dresses, jewelry.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “If she sells those things for money to live, there's nothing wrong in that. They are gifts freely given, and hers to do with as she pleases.”

Deoch fixed me with a stare. “But what is she to do when some gent gets too familiar? Or gets angry at being denied what he considers bought and paid for? What recourse does she have? No family, no friends, no standing. No choice. None but to give herself over to him, all unwilling….” Deoch's face was grim. “Or to leave. Leave quickly and find better weather. Is it any surprise then that she is harder to lay hands on than a windblown leaf?”

He shook his head, looking down at the table. “No, I do not envy her her life. Nor do I judge her.” His tirade seemed to have left him spent and slightly embarrassed. He didn't look up at me as he spoke. “For all that, I would help her, if she would let me.” He glanced up at me and gave a chagrined smile. “But she's not the sort to be beholden to anyone. Not one whit. Not a hairsbreadth.” He sighed and dribbled the last drops of the bottle evenly into our glasses.

“You've shown her to me in a new light,” I said honestly. “I'm ashamed I didn't see it for myself.”

“Well, I've had a head start on you,” he said easily. “I've known her longer.”

“Nevertheless, I thank you,” I said holding up my glass.

He held up his own. “To Dyanae,” he said. “Most lovely.”

“To Denna, full of delight.”

“Young and unbending.”

“Bright and fair.”

“Ever sought, ever alone.”

“So wise and so foolish,” I said. “So merry and so sad.”

“Gods of my fathers,” Deoch said reverently. “Keep her always so: unchanging, past my understanding, and safe from harm.”

We both drank and set down our glasses.

“Let me buy the next bottle,” I said. It would tap out my slowly hoarded line of credit with the bar, but I found myself increasingly fond of Deoch and the thought of not standing my round with him was too galling to consider.

“Stream, stone, and sky,” he swore, rubbing at his face. “I dare not. Another bottle and we'd be slitting our wrists into the river before the sun goes down.”

I made a gesture to a serving girl. “Nonsense,” I said. “We'll just change to something less maudlin than wine.”

 

I didn't notice I was being followed when I returned to the University. Perhaps my head was so full of Denna that there was little room left for anything else. Perhaps I had been living civilized for so long that the hard-earned reflexes I'd picked up in Tarbean were starting to fade.

The blackberry brand probably had something to do with it as well. Deoch and I had talked for a long while, and between us drank half a bottle of the stuff. I had brought the remainder of the bottle back with me, as I knew Simmon had a taste for it.

Small matter why I didn't notice them, I suppose. The result was the same. I was strolling down a poorly lit part of Newhall Lane when something blunt struck me on the back of the head and I was bundled off into a nearby alley, half-senseless.

I was only stunned for a moment, but by the time I had re-gathered my wits, I had a heavy hand clamped over my mouth.

“Alright, cully,” the huge man behind me spoke into my ear. “I've got a knife on you. You struggle, I stick you. That's all there is to it.” I felt a gentle prod against my ribs under my left arm. “Check the finder,” he said to his companion.

A tall shape was all I could see in the dim light of the alley. He bowed his head, looking at his hand. “I can't tell.”

“Light a match, then. We have to be sure.”

My anxiety began to blossom into full-blown panic. This wasn't some simple back-alley coshing. They hadn't even checked my pockets for money. This was something else.