Read The Wise Man's Fear Online
Authors: Patrick Rothfuss
Tags: #Mercenary troops, #Magicians, #Magic, #Attempted assassination, #Fairies, #Fiction, #Fantasy, #General, #Heroes, #Epic
The Wise Man's Fear (162 page)
She half-smiled and dished a second bowl for herself. She started to fill a third bowl, then hesitated, realizing Ellie couldn’t feed herself.
“Would you like some soup, Ellie?” I asked in normal tones. “It smells good.”
She sat blankly by the fire, staring into nothing.
“Do you want to share mine?” I asked as if it were the most natural thing in the world. I moved closer to her and blew on a spoonful to cool it. “Here you go.”
Ellie ate it mechanically, turning her head slightly in my direction, toward the spoon. Her eyes reflected the dancing patterns of the fire. They were like the windows of an empty house.
I blew on another spoonful and held it out to the blonde girl. She opened her mouth only when the spoon touched her lips. I moved my head, trying to see past the dancing firelight in her eyes, desperately hoping to see something behind them. Anything.
“I bet you’re an Ell, aren’t you?” I said conversationally. I looked at Krin. “Short for Ellie?”
Krin shrugged helplessly. “We weren’t friends, really. She’s just Ellie Anwater. The mayor’s daughter.”
“It sure was a long walk today,” I continued speaking in the same easy tone. “How do your feet feel, Krin?”
Krin continued to watch me with her serious dark eyes. “A little sore.”
“Mine too. I can’t wait to get my shoes off. Are your feet sore, Ell?”
No response. I fed her another bite.
“It was pretty hot too. It should cool off tonight, though. Good sleeping weather. Won’t that be nice, Ell?”
No response. Krin continued to watch me from the other side of the fire. I took a bite of soup for myself. “This is truly fine, Krin,” I said earnestly, then turned back to the vacant girl. “It’s a good thing we have Krin to cook for us, Ell. Everything I cook tastes like horseshit.”
On her side of the fire, Krin tried to laugh with a mouthful of soup with predictable results. I thought I saw a flicker in Ell’s eyes. “If I had some horse apples I could make us a horse apple pie for dessert,” I offered. “I could make some tonight if you want . . .” I trailed off, making it a question.
Ell gave the slightest frown, a small wrinkle creased her forehead.
“You’re probably right,” I said. “It wouldn’t be very good. Would you like more soup instead?”
The barest nod. I gave her a spoonful.
“It’s a little salty, though. You probably want some water.”
Another nod. I handed her the waterskin and she lifted it to her own lips. She drank for a long, long minute. She was probably parched from our long walk today. I would have to watch her more closely tomorrow to make sure she drank enough.
“Would you like a drink, Krin?”
“Yes please,” Krin said, her eyes fixed on Ell’s face.
Moving automatically, Ell held the waterskin out toward Krin, holding it directly over the fire with the shoulder strap dragging in the coals. Krin grabbed it quickly, then added a belated, “Thank you, Ell.”
I kept the slow stream of conversation going through the whole meal. Ell fed herself toward the end of it, and though her eyes were clearer, it was as if she were looking at the world through a sheet of frosted glass, seeing but not seeing. Still, it was an improvement.
After she ate two bowls of soup and half a loaf of bread, her eyes began to bob closed. “Would you like to go to sleep, Ell?” I asked.
A more definite nod.
“Should I carry you to the tent?”
Her eyes snapped open at this and she shook her head firmly.
“Maybe Krin would help you get ready for bed if you asked her.”
Ell turned to look in Krin’s direction. Her mouth moved in a vague way. Krin darted a glance at me and I nodded.
“Let’s go and get tucked in then,” Krin said, sounding every bit the older sister. She came over and took Ell’s hand, helping her to her feet. As they went into the tent, I finished off the soup and ate a piece of bread that had been too badly burnt for either of the girls.
Before too long Krin came back to the fire. “Is she sleeping?” I asked.
“Before she hit the pillow. Do you think she will be all right?”
She was in deep shock. Her mind had stepped through the doors of madness to protect itself from what was happening. “It’s probably just a matter of time,” I said tiredly, hoping it was the truth. “The young heal quickly.” I chuckled humorlessly as I realized she was probably only about a year younger than me. I felt every year twice tonight, some of them three times.
Despite the fact that I felt covered in lead, I forced myself to my feet and helped Krin clean the dishes. I sensed her growing unease as we finished cleaning up and repicketing the horses to a fresh piece of grazing. The tension grew worse as we approached the tent. I stopped and held the flap open for her. “I’ll sleep out here tonight.”
Her relief was tangible. “Are you sure?”
I nodded. She slipped inside, and I let the flap fall closed behind her. Her head poked back out almost immediately, followed by a hand holding a blanket.
I shook my head. “You’ll need them both. There’ll be a chill tonight.” I pulled my shaed around me and lay directly in front of the tent. I didn’t want Ell wandering out during the night and getting lost or hurt.
“Won’t you be cold?”
“I’ll be fine,” I said. I was tired enough to sleep on a running horse. I was tired enough to sleep
under
a running horse.
under
a running horse.
Krin ducked her head back into the tent. Soon I heard her nestling into the blankets. Then everything was quiet.
I remembered the startled look on Otto’s face as I cut his throat. I heard Alleg struggle weakly and curse me as I dragged him back to the wagons. I remembered the blood. The way it had felt against my hands. The thickness of it.
I had never killed anyone like that before. Not coldly, not close up. I remembered how warm their blood had been. I remembered the way Kete had cried as I stalked her through the woods. “It was them or me!” she had screamed hysterically. “I didn’t have a choice. It was them or me!”
I lay awake a long while. When I finally slept, the dreams were worse.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-FOUR
The Road to Levinshir
W
E MADE POOR TIME the next day, as Krin and I were forced to lead the three horses and Ell besides. Luckily, the horses were well-behaved, as Edema-trained horses tend to be. If they had been as wayward-witted as the poor mayor’s daughter, we might never have made it to Levinshir at all.
E MADE POOR TIME the next day, as Krin and I were forced to lead the three horses and Ell besides. Luckily, the horses were well-behaved, as Edema-trained horses tend to be. If they had been as wayward-witted as the poor mayor’s daughter, we might never have made it to Levinshir at all.
Even so, the horses were almost more trouble than they were worth. The glossy roan in particular liked to wander off into the underbrush, foraging. Three times now I’d had to drag him out, and we were irritated with each other. I’d named him Burrback for obvious reasons.
The fourth time I had to pull him back onto the road, I seriously considered cutting him loose to save myself the trouble. I didn’t, of course. A good horse is the same as money in your pocket. And it would be quicker to ride back to Severen than walk the whole way.
Krin and I did our best to keep Ell engaged in conversation as we walked. It seemed to help a bit. And by the time our noon meal came around she seemed almost aware of what was going on around her. Almost.
I had an idea as we were getting ready to set out again after lunch. I led our dappled grey mare over to where Ell stood. Her golden hair was one great tangle and she was trying to run one of her hands through it while her eyes wandered around in a distracted way, as if she didn’t quite understand where she was.
“Ell.” She turned to look. “Have you met Greytail?” I gestured to the mare.
A faint, confused shake of the head.
“I need your help leading her. Have you led a horse before?”
A nod.
“She needs someone to take care of her. Can you do it?” Greytail looked at me with one large eye, as if to let me know she needed leading as much as I needed wheels to walk. But then she lowered her head a bit and nuzzled Ell in a motherly way. The girl reached out a hand to pet her nose almost automatically, then took the reins from me.
“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Krin asked when I came back to pack the other horses.
“Greytail is gentle as a lamb.”
“Just because Ell is witless as a sheep,” Krin said archly, “doesn’t make them a good pairing.”
I cracked a smile at that. “We’ll watch them close for an hour or so. If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t. But sometimes the best help a person can find is helping someone else.”
Since I had slept poorly I was twice weary today. My stomach was sour, and I felt gritty, like someone had sanded the first two layers of my skin away. I was almost tempted to doze in the saddle, but I couldn’t bring myself to ride while the girls walked.
So I plodded along, leading my horse and nodding on my feet. But today I couldn’t fall into the comfortable half-sleep I tend to use when walking. I was plagued with thoughts of Alleg, wondering if he was still alive.
I knew from my time in the Medica that the gut wound I’d given him was fatal. I also knew it was a slow death. Slow and painful. With proper care it might be a full span of days before he died. Even alone in the middle of nowhere he could live for days with such a wound.
Not pleasant days. He would grow delirious with fever as the infection set in. Every movement would tear the wound open again. He couldn’t walk on his hamstrung leg, either. So if he wanted to move he’d have to crawl. He would be cramped with hunger and burning with thirst by now.
But not dead from thirst. No. I had left a full waterskin nearby. I had laid it at his side before we had left. Not out of kindness. Not to make his last hours more bearable. I had left it because I knew that with water he would live longer, suffer more.
Leaving him that waterskin was the most terrible thing I’d ever done, and now that my anger had cooled to ashes I regretted it. I wondered how much longer he would live because of it. A day? Two? Certainly no more than two. I tried not to think of what those two days would be like.
But even when I forced thoughts of Alleg from my mind, I had other demons to fight. I remembered bits and pieces of that night, the things the false troupers had said as I cut them down. The sounds my sword had made as it dug into them. The smell of their skin as I had branded them. I had killed two women. What would Vashet think of my actions? What would anyone think?
Exhausted from worry and lack of sleep, my thoughts spun in these circles for the remainder of the day. I set up camp from force of habit and kept up a conversation with Ell through an effort of sheer will. The time for sleep came before I was ready, and I found myself rolled in my shaed, in the front of the girls’ tent. I was dimly aware that Krin had started giving me the same worried look she’d been giving Ell for the past two days.
I lay wide-eyed for an hour before falling asleep, wondering about Alleg.
When I slept I dreamed of killing them. In my dream I stalked the forest like grim death, unwavering.
But it was different this time. I killed Otto, his blood spattering my hands like hot grease. Then I killed Laren and Josh and Tim. They moaned and screamed, twisting on the ground. Their wounds were horrible, but I could not look away.
Then the faces changed. I was killing Taren, the bearded ex-mercenary in my troupe. Then I killed Trip. Then I was chasing Shandi through the forest, my sword naked in my hand. She was crying out, weeping in fear. When I finally caught her she clutched at me, knocking me to the ground, burying her face in my chest, sobbing. “No no no,” she begged. “No no no.”
I came awake. I lay on my back, terrified and not knowing where my dream ended and the world began. After a brief moment I realized the truth. Ell had crawled from the tent and lay curled against me. Her face pressed against my chest, her hand grasping desperately at my arm.
“No no,” she choked out. “No no no no no.” Her body shook with helpless sobs when she couldn’t say it anymore. My shirt was wet with hot tears. My arm was bleeding where she clutched it.
Other books
His Last Chance at Redemption by Michelle Conder
Nutshell by Ian McEwan
From a Dream: Darkly Dreaming Part I by Valles, C. J., James, Alessa
Suffer the Children by Craig Dilouie
Eighteen (18) by J.A. Huss
Gem Stone by Dale Mayer
I Remember Nothing by Nora Ephron
Anatomía de un instante by Javier Cercas
Once We Were by Aundrea M. Lopez
Love Songs for the Road by Farrah Taylor
