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Authors: Patrick Rothfuss

Tags: #Mercenary troops, #Magicians, #Magic, #Attempted assassination, #Fairies, #Fiction, #Fantasy, #General, #Heroes, #Epic

The Wise Man's Fear (75 page)

BOOK: The Wise Man's Fear
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Alveron gave a deep, honest laugh, but even through the joyful sound of it, I could tell the act of laughing pained him. “I was thinking more of the first two,” he admitted, sinking back into the pillows, his eyes heavy.
I nodded. “I’ll need to know more about her, your grace. Trying to court a woman without knowing her would be worse than foolish.”
Alveron nodded tiredly. “Caudicus can lay the groundwork for you. He knows a great deal about the history of the families. Family is the foundation upon which a man stands. You’ll need to know where she comes from if you’re to court her.” He motioned me closer and held out an iron ring, his arm trembling with the effort of staying in the air. “Show this to Caudicus and he will know you are on my business.”
I took it quickly. “Does he know you plan to marry?”
“No!” Alveron’s eyes flew open. “Do not speak of this to anyone! Invent some reason for your inquiries. Fetch my medicine.”
He lay back, closing his eyes. As I left I heard him speaking faintly: “Sometimes they don’t give it knowingly, sometimes they don’t give it willingly. Nevertheless . . . all power.”
“Yes, your grace,” I said, but he had already fallen into a fitful sleep before I left the room.
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
 
Purpose
 
A
SILEFT THE Maer’s rooms, I considered sending a runner with my card and ring ahead to Caudicus. Then I dismissed the thought. I was on an errand for the Maer. Surely that would excuse a slight breach of etiquette.
From the rumor mill, I knew Alveron’s arcanist had been a permanent part of the Maer’s court for more than a dozen years. But other than the fact that he lived in one of the estate’s southern towers, I had no idea what to expect from the man.
I knocked on the thick-timbered door.
“Hold on then,” the voice came faintly. There was the sound of a bolt being drawn back, and the door opened to reveal a thin man with a long, hawkish nose and curling black hair. He wore a long, dark garment vaguely reminiscent of a master’s robe. “Yes?”
“I was wondering if I might borrow a moment of your time, sir?” I said, my nervousness only half-feigned.
He looked me over, taking in my fine clothes. “I don’t do love potions. You can find that sort of thing down in Severen-Low.” The heavy door began to inch closed. “Though you’d be better off with a little dancing and some roses if you ask me.”
“I’m here for something else,” I said quickly. “Two things actually. One for the Maer and one for myself.” I lifted my hand, revealing the iron ring on my palm, Alveron’s name blazed in bright gold across the face of it.
The door stopped closing. “You’d best come in, then,” Caudicus said.
The room looked like a small University contained in a single room. Lit with the familiar red glow of sympathy lamps, there were shelves of books, tables full of twisted glassware, and far in the back, half concealed by the curving wall of the tower, I thought I could see a small furnace or kiln.
“Good God!” I exclaimed, covering my mouth with one hand. “Is that a dragon?” I pointed to a huge stuffed crocodile that hung from one of the ceiling beams.
You have to understand, some arcanists are more territorial than sharks, especially those who have managed to acquire luxurious court positions such as this. I had no idea how Caudicus might react to a young arcanist-in-training arriving in his territory, so I decided it was safer to play the part of a pleasantly dim, nonthreatening lordling.
Caudicus closed the door behind me, chuckling. “No. It’s an alligator. Quite harmless I assure you.”
“It gave me a bit of a start,” I said. “What is the use of such a thing?”
“Honestly?” He looked up at it. “I don’t rightly know. It belonged to the arcanist who lived here before me. It seemed a shame to throw it away. Impressive specimen, don’t you think?”
I gave it a nervous look. “Quite.”
“What is this business you mentioned?” He gestured to a large, cushioned chair and settled himself into a similar chair across from me. “I’m afraid I only have a few minutes before I will be otherwise occupied. Until then my time is yours . . .” He trailed off questioningly.
I could see he knew quite well who I was: the mysterious young man the Maer had been meeting with. I guessed he was eager as the rest to find out why I was in Severen.
“Kvothe,” I said. “Actually, the Maer’s medicine is half my business.” I saw a faint, irritated line appear between his eyebrows and hurried to correct whatever he might be thinking. “I was speaking with the Maer earlier.” I gave the barest pause, as if I was unreasonably proud of this. “And he asked me if I might bring him his medicine after I had finished speaking with you.”
The line disappeared. “Certainly,” Caudicus said easily. “It would save me the trip to his rooms. But what is the matter you wished to speak about?”
“Well,” I leaned forward excitedly. “I’m doing research into the histories of the noble families in Vintas. I am thinking of writing a book, you see.”
“A genealogy?” I saw boredom begin to fog his eyes.
“Oh no. There are genealogies aplenty. I was thinking of a collection of stories related to the great families.” I was rather proud of this lie. Not only did it explain my curiosity about Meluan’s family, it gave a reason for why I was spending so much time with the Maer. “History tends to be rather dry, but everyone enjoys a story.”
Caudicus nodded to himself. “Clever idea. That could be an interesting book.”
“I’ll be writing a brief historical preface for each family, as an introduction to the stories that follow. The Maer mentioned you were quite the authority on the old families, and said he would be pleased if I called on you.”
The compliment had its desired effect, and Caudicus puffed himself up ever so slightly. “I don’t know if I’d consider myself an
authority
,” he said with false modesty. “But I am a bit of a historian.” He raised an eyebrow at me. “You must realize the families themselves would probably be a superior source of information.”
“One would
think
that,” I said with a sideways look. “But families tend to be reluctant to share their most interesting stories.”
Caudicus gave a wide grin. “I imagine so.” The grin faded just as quickly. “But I’m certain I don’t know any stories of that sort regarding the Maer’s family,” he said seriously.
“Oh no no no!” I waved my hands in violent negation. “The Maer is a special case. I wouldn’t dream . . .” I trailed off, swallowing visibly. “I was hoping you might be able to enlighten me regarding the Lackless family. I’m rather in the dark about them.”
“Really?” he said, surprised. “They’ve fallen from what they once were, but they’re a treasure trove of stories.” His eyes focused far away and he tapped his lips with his fingers distractedly. “How about this, I’ll brush up on their history, and you can come back tomorrow for a longer talk. It’s nearly time for the Maer’s medicine, and it shouldn’t be delayed.”
He got to his feet and began to roll up his sleeves. “There’s one thing I can remember off the top of my head, if you don’t mind my rambling while I prepare the Maer’s medicine.”
“I’ve never seen a potion being made,” I said enthusiastically. “If you wouldn’t find it too distracting . . .”
“Not at all. I could prepare it in my sleep.” He moved behind a worktable and lit a pair of blueflame candles. I took care to look suitably impressed even though I knew they were just for show.
Caudicus shook a portion of dried leaf onto a small hand scale and weighed it. “Do you have any trouble accepting rumor into your research?”
“Not if it’s interesting.”
He was silent while he carefully measured a small amount of clear liquid from a glass-stoppered bottle. “From what I understand, the Lackless family has an heirloom. Well, not an heirloom
exactly
, but an ancient thing that dates back to the beginning of their line.”
“There’s not much odd with that. Old families are rife with heirlooms.”
“Hush,” he said testily. “There’s more to it than that.” He poured the liquid into a flat lead bowl with some crude symbols carved along the outside. It bubbled and hissed, filling the air with a faint, acrid smell.
He decanted the liquid into the pan over the candles. From there he added the dry leaf, a pinch of something, and a measure of white powder. He added a splash of fluid I assumed was simply water, stirred, and poured the result through a filter and into a clear glass vial, stoppering it with a cork.
He held the result up for me to see: a clear amber liquid with a slight greenish tint. “There you go. Remind him to drink it all.”
I took the warm vial. “What was this heirloom?”
Caudicus rinsed his hands in a porcelain bowl and shook them dry. “I’ve heard that on the oldest parts of the Lackless lands, in the oldest part of their ancestral estate, there is a secret door. A door without a handle or hinges.” He watched me to make sure I was paying attention. “There’s no way of opening it. It is locked, but at the same time, lockless. No one knows what’s on the other side.”
He nodded toward the vial in my hand. “Now get that to the Maer. It’ll be best if he drinks it while it’s warm.” He escorted me to the door. “Do come back tomorrow.” he smirked a bit. “I know a story about the Menebras that will turn your red hair white.”
“Oh, I only work on one family at a time,” I said, not wanting to risk getting bogged down in endless court gossip. “Two is the absolute most. Right now I’m working on Alveron and Lackless. I couldn’t bring myself to start a third as well.” I gave an insipid smile. “I’d put myself all in a muddle.”
“That’s a shame,” Caudicus said. “I travel quite a bit, you see. Many of the noble houses are eager to host the Maer’s own arcanist.” He gave me a sly look. “This makes me privy to some rather interesting facts.” He opened the door. “Think on it. And do stop back tomorrow. I’ll have more on the Lacklesses at any rate.”
I was at the doors to the Maer’s rooms before the vial had a chance to cool. Stapes opened the door to my knocking and led me to the Maer’s inner rooms.
The Maer Alveron was sleeping in the same position I had left him in. As Stapes shut the door behind me, one of the Maer’s eyes opened and he beckoned to me feebly. “You took your sweet time.”
“Your grace, I—”
He motioned me forward again, more sharply this time. “Give me my medicine,” he said thickly. “Then leave. I’m tired.”
“I’m afraid it’s rather important, your grace.”
Both eyes opened, and the smoldering anger was there again. “What?” he snapped.
I moved to the side of the bed and leaned close. Before he could protest my impropriety, I whispered, “Your grace, Caudicus is poisoning you.”
CHAPTER SIXTY
 
Wisdom’s Tool
 
T
HE MAER’S EYES WENT wide at my words, then narrowed again. Even in the midst of his infirmity, Alveron’s wit was sharp. “You were right to speak that close and soft,” he said. “You are treading dangerous ground. But speak, I will hear you.”
“Your grace, I suspect Threpe did not mention in his letter that I am a student at the University as well as a musician.”
The Maer’s eyes showed no glimmer of recognition. “Which university?” he asked.
“
The
University, your grace,” I said. “I am a member of the Arcanum.”
Alveron frowned. “You’re far too young to make such a claim. And why would Threpe neglect to mention this?”
“You were not looking for an arcanist, your grace. And there is a certain stigma attached to that sort of study this far east.” It was the closest I could come to speaking the truth: that Vints are superstitious to the point of idiocy.
The Maer blinked slowly, his expression hardening. “Very well,” he said. “Perform some work of magic if you are what you say.”
“I am only an arcanist in training, your grace. But if you would like to see a bit of magic . . .” I looked at the three lamps lining the walls, licked my fingers, concentrated, and pinched the wick of the candle sitting on his bedside table.
The room went dark and I heard his startled intake of breath. I brought out my silver ring, and after a moment it began to shine with a silver-blue light. My hands grew cold, as I had no source of heat other than my own body.
“That will do,” the Maer said. If he was at all unnerved, there was no hint of it in his voice.
I stepped across the room and opened the shuttered windows. Sunlight flooded the room. There was a hint of selas flower, a trill of birdsong. “I’ve always found that taking in some air is good for whatever troubles a body, though others disagree.” I smiled at him.
He didn’t return it. “Yes, yes. You’re very clever. Come here and sit.” I did so, taking a chair near his bedside. “Now explain yourself.”
“I told Caudicus I was compiling a collection of stories from the noble houses,” I said. “A handy excuse, as it also explains why I have been spending time with you.”
BOOK: The Wise Man's Fear
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