Devi gave me a winsome smile, dimples showing again. “I can only win if we were both actually playing.” She opened a drawer in the desk, bringing out a small glass bottle and a long pin.
I reached out to take them, but instead of sliding them across the desk, she gave me a thoughtful look. “Now that I think of it, there might be another option.”
“I’d love another option,” I admitted.
“The last time we talked,” Devi said slowly, “you implied you had a way into the Archives.”
I hesitated. “I did imply that.”
“That information would be worth quite a bit to me,” she said overcasually. Though she tried to hide it, I could see a fierce, lean hunger in her eyes.
I looked down at my hands and didn’t say anything.
“I’ll give you ten talents right now,” Devi said bluntly. “Not a loan. I’ll buy the information outright. If I get caught in the Stacks, I never learned it from you.”
I thought of everything I could do with ten talents. New clothes. A lute case that wasn’t about to fall to pieces. Paper. Gloves for the coming winter.
I sighed and shook my head.
“Twenty talents,” Devi said. “And guild rates on any loans you want in the future.”
Twenty talents would mean half a year of worry-free tuition. I could pursue my own projects in the Fishery rather than slaving away at deck lamps. I could buy tailored clothes. Fresh fruit. I could use a laundry rather than wash my clothes myself.
I drew a reluctant breath. “I—”
“Forty talents,” Devi said hungrily. “Guild rates. And I will take you to bed.”
For forty talents I could buy Denna her own half-harp. I could . . .
I looked up and saw Devi staring at me from across the desk. Her lips were wet, her pale blue eyes intense. She shifted her shoulders back and forth in the slow, unconscious motion of a cat before it pounces.
I thought of Auri, safe and happy in the Underthing. What would she do if her tiny kingdom was invaded by a stranger?
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I can’t. Getting in is . . . complicated. It involves a friend, and I don’t think they’d be willing.” I decided to ignore the other part of her offer, as I hadn’t the slightest idea what to say about it.
There was a long, tense moment. “Goddamn you,” Devi said at last. “You sound like you’re telling the truth.”
“I am,” I said. “It’s unsettling, I know.”
“Goddamn.” She scowled as she pushed the bottle and pin across the desk.
I pricked the back of my hand and watched the blood well up and roll down my hand to fall into the bottle. After three drops I tipped the pin into the mouth of the bottle as well.
Devi swabbed some adhesive around the stopper and drove it angrily into the bottle. Then she reached into a drawer and pulled out a diamond stylus. “Do you trust me?” She asked as she etched a number into the glass. “Or do you want this sealed?”
“I trust you,” I said. “But I’d like it sealed all the same.”
She melted a daub of sealing wax onto the top of the bottle. I pressed my talent pipes into it, leaving a recognizable impression.
Reaching into another drawer, Devi brought out six talents and clattered them onto the desk. The motion might have seemed petulant if her eyes hadn’t been so hard and angry.
“I’m getting in there one way or another,” she said with a chill edge to her voice. “Talk to your friend. If you’re the one that helps me, I’ll make it worth your time.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Haven
I RETURNED TO THE UNIVERSITY in good spirits despite the burden of my new debt. I made a few purchases, gathered up my lute, and headed out over the rooftops.
From the inside, Mains was a nightmare to navigate: a maze of irrational hallways and stairways leading nowhere. But moving across its jumbled rooftops was easy as anything. I made my way to a small courtyard that at some point in the building’s construction had become completely inaccessible, trapped like a fly in amber.
Auri wasn’t expecting me, but this was the first place I’d met her, and on clear nights she sometimes came out to watch the stars. I checked to make sure the classrooms overlooking the courtyard were dark and empty, then I brought out my lute and began to tune it.
I had been playing for almost an hour when I heard a rustling movement in the overgrown courtyard below. Then Auri appeared, scurrying up the overgrown apple tree and onto the roof.
She ran toward me, her bare feet skipping lightly across the tar, her hair blowing behind her. “I heard you!” she said as she came close. “I heard you all the way down in Vaults!”
“I seem to remember,” I said slowly, “that I was going to play music for someone.”
“Me!” She held both her hands close to her chest, grinning. She moved from foot to foot, almost dancing with her eagerness. “Play for me! I have been as patient as two stones together,” she said. “You are just in time. I could not be as patient as three stones.”
“Well,” I said hesitantly. “I suppose it all depends on what you’ve brought me.”
She laughed, rising up onto the balls of her feet, her hands still together, close to her chest. “What did you bring me?”
I knelt and began to untie my bundle. “I’ve brought you three things,” I said.
“How traditional,” she said, grinning. “You are quite the proper young gentleman tonight.”
“I am.” I held up a heavy dark bottle.
She took it with both hands. “Who made it?”
“Bees,” I said. “And brewers in Bredon.”
Auri smiled. “That’s three bees,” she said, and set the bottle down by her feet. I brought out a round loaf of fresh barley bread. She reached out and touched it with a finger, then nodded approvingly.
Last I brought out a whole smoked salmon. It had cost four drabs by itself, but I worried Auri didn’t get enough meat in whatever she managed to scrounge up when I wasn’t around. It would be good for her.
Auri looked down at it curiously, tilting her head to look into its single staring eye. “Hello fish,” she said. Then she looked back up at me. “Does it have a secret?”
I nodded. “It has a harp instead of a heart.”
She looked back down at it. “No wonder it looks so surprised.”
Auri took the fish out of my hands and laid it carefully on the roof. “Now stand up. I have three things for you, as is only fair.”
I came to my feet and she held out something wrapped in a piece of cloth. It was a thick candle that smelled of lavender. “What’s inside of it?” I asked.
“Happy dreams,” she said. “I put them there for you.”
I turned the candle over in my hands, a suspicion forming. “Did you make this yourself?”
She nodded and gave a delighted grin. “I did. I am terribly clever.”
I tucked it carefully into one of the pockets of my cloak. “Thank you, Auri.”
Auri grew serious. “Now close your eyes and bend down so I can give you your second present.”
Puzzled, I closed my eyes and bent at the waist, wondering if she had made me a hat as well.
I felt her hands on either side of my face, then she gave me a tiny, delicate kiss in the middle of my forehead.
Surprised, I opened my eyes. But she was already standing several steps away, her hands clasped nervously behind her back. I couldn’t think of anything to say.
Auri took a step forward. “You are special to me,” she said seriously, her face grave. “I want you to know I will always take care of you.” She reached out tentatively and wiped at my cheeks. “No. None of that tonight. This is your third present. If things are bad, you can come and stay with me in the Underthing. It is nice there, and you will be safe.”
“Thank you, Auri,” I said as soon as I was able. “You are special to me, too.”
“Of course I am,” she said matter-of-factly. “I am as lovely as the moon.”
I collect
ed myself while Auri skipped over to a piece of metal piping that jutted from a chimney and used it to pry the cap off the bottle. Then she brought it back, holding it carefully with both hands.
“Auri,” I asked. “Aren’t your feet cold?”
She looked down at them. “The tar is nice,” she said, wriggling her toes. “It’s still warm from the sun.”
“Would you like a pair of shoes?”
“What would they have in them?” she asked.
“Your feet,” I said. “It’s going to be winter soon.”
She shrugged.
“Your feet will be cold.”
“I don’t come out on top of things in the winter,” she said. “It isn’t very nice.”
Before I could respond, Elodin stepped around a large brick chimney as casually as if he were out for an afternoon stroll.
The three of us stared at each other for a moment, each of us startled in our own way. Elodin and I were surprised, but out of the corner of my eye I saw Auri grow perfectly still, like a deer ready to spring away to safety.
“Master Elodin,” I said in my gentlest, friendliest tones, desperately hoping he wouldn’t do anything that might startle Auri into running. The last time she’d been scared back underground it had taken her a full span to re-emerge. “How nice to meet you.”
“Hello there,” Elodin said, matching my casual tone perfectly, as if there was nothing odd about the three of us meeting on a rooftop in the middle of the night. Though for all I knew, it might not seem odd to him.
“Master Elodin.” Auri dipped one bare foot behind the other and tugged the edges of her ragged dress in a tiny curtsey.
Elodin remained in the moon-cast shadow of the tall brick chimney. He made a curiously formal bow in return. I couldn’t see his face in any detail, but I could imagine his curious eyes examining the barefoot, waifish girl with the nimbus of floating hair. “And what brings the two of you out this fine night?” Elodin asked.
I tensed. Questions were dangerous with Auri.
Luckily, this one didn’t seem to bother her. “Kvothe has brought me lovely things,” she said. “He brought me bee beer and barley bread and a smoked fish with a harp where its heart should be.”
“Ah,” Elodin said, stepping away from the chimney. He patted his robes until he found something in a pocket. He held it out to her. “I’m afraid I’ve only brought you a cinnas fruit.”
Auri took a tiny, dancer’s step backward and made no motion to take it. “Have you brought anything for Kvothe?”
This seemed to catch Elodin off his stride. He stood awkwardly for a moment, arm outstretched. “I’m afraid I haven’t,” he said. “But I don’t imagine Kvothe has brought anything for me, either.”
Auri’s eyes narrowed, and she gave a tiny frown, fierce with disapproval. “Kvothe has brought music,” she said sternly, “which is for everyone.”
Elodin paused again, and I have to admit I enjoyed seeing him discomfited by someone else’s behavior for once. He turned and made a half bow in my direction. “My apologies,” he said.
I made a gracious gesture. “Think nothing of it.”
Elodin turned back to Auri and held out his hand a second time.
She took two small steps forward, hesitated, then took two more. She reached out slowly, paused with her hand on the small fruit, then took several scurrying steps away, bringing both hands close to her chest. “Thank you kindly,” she said, making another small curtsey. “Now, you may join us if you like. And if you behave, you may stay and listen to Kvothe play afterward.” She tilted her head a bit, making it a question.
Elodin hesitated, then nodded.
Auri scampered around to the other side of the roof, then down into the courtyard through the bare limbs of the apple tree.
Elodin watched her go. When he tilted his head there was just enough moonlight that I could see a thoughtful expression on his face. I felt a sudden, sharp anxiety tie knots in my stomach. “Master Elodin?”
He turned to face me. “Hmm?”
I knew from experience it would only take her three or four minutes to fetch whatever she was bringing up from the Underthing. I needed to talk fast.
“I know this looks strange,” I said. “But you have to be careful. She’s very nervous. Don’t try to touch her. Don’t make any sudden movements. It will scare her away.”
Elodin expression was hidden in shadow again. “Will it now?” he said.
“Loud noises too. Even a loud laugh. And you can’t ask her anything resembling a personal question. She’ll just run if you do.” I drew a deep breath, my mind racing. I have a good tongue in my head, and given enough time I’m confident in my ability to persuade just about anyone of anything. But Elodin was simply too unpredictable to manipulate.
“You can’t tell anyone she’s here.” It came out more forcefully than I’d intended, and I immediately regretted my choice of words. I was in no position to be giving orders to one of the masters, even if he was more than half mad. “What I mean,” I said quickly, “is that I would take it as a great personal favor if you didn’t mention her to anyone.”
Elodin gave me a long, speculative look. “And why is that, Re’lar Kvothe?”
I felt myself break out in a sweat at the cool amusement in his tone. “They’ll stick her in Haven,” I said. “You of all people ...” I trailed off, my throat growing dry.
Elodin stared down at me, his face little more than a shadow, but I could sense him scowling. “Of all people I what, Re’lar Kvothe? Do you presume to know my feelings toward Haven?”
I felt all my elegant, half-planned persuasion fall to tatters around my feet. And I suddenly felt like I was back on the streets of Tarbean, my stomach a hard knot of hunger, my chest full of desperate hopelessness as I clutched at the sleeves of sailors and merchants, begging for pennies, halfpennies, shims. Begging for anything so I could get something to eat.
“Please,” I said to him. “Please, Master Elodin, if they chase her she’ll hide, and I won’t be able to find her. She isn’t quite right in the head, but she’s happy here. And I can take care of her. Not much, but a little. If they catch her that would be even worse. Haven would kill her. Please Master Elodin, I’ll do whatever you like. Just don’t tell anyone.”
“Hush,” Elodin said. “She’s coming.” He reached out to grip my shoulder, and moonlight fell across his face. His expression wasn’t fierce and hard at all. There was nothing but puzzlement and concern. “Lord and lady, you’re shaking. Take a breath and put your stage face on. You’ll scare her if she sees you like this.”
I took a deep breath and fought to relax. Elodin’s concerned expression faded and he stepped back, letting go of my shoulder.
I turned in time to see Auri scurry across the roof toward us, her arms full. She stopped a short distance away, eyeing us both, before coming the rest of the way, stepping carefully as a dancer until she was back where she originally stood. Then she sat down lightly on the roof, crossing her legs beneath herself. Elodin and I sat as well, though not nearly as gracefully.
Auri unfolded a cloth, lay it carefully between the three of us, then set a large, smooth wooden platter in the middle. She brought out the cinnas fruit and sniffed it, her eyes peering over the top of it. “What is in this?” she asked Elodin.
“Sunshine,” he said easily, as if he’d expected the question. “And early morning sunshine at that.”
They knew each other. Of course. That was why she hadn’t run away at the outset. I felt the solid bar of tension between my shoulder blades ease slightly.
Auri sniffed the fruit again and looked thoughtful for a moment. “It is lovely,” she declared. “But Kvothe’s things are lovelier still.”
“That stands to reason,” Elodin said. “I expect Kvothe is a nicer person than I am.”
“That goes without saying,” Auri said primly.
Auri served up dinner, sharing out the bread and fish to each of us. She also produced a squat clay jar of bri
ned olives. It made me glad to see she could provide for herself when I wasn’t around.
Auri poured beer into my familiar porcelain teacup. Elodin got a small glass jar of the sort you would use to store jam. She filled his cup for the first round but not the second. I was left wondering if he was simply out of easy reach, or if it was a subtle sign of her displeasure.
We ate without speaking. Auri delicately, taking tiny bites, her back straight. Elodin cautiously, occasionally darting a glance at me as if he were unsure how to behave. I guessed from this that he’d never shared a meal with Auri before.
When we were finished with everything else, Auri brought out a small, bright knife and divided the cinnas fruit into three parts. As soon as she broke the skin of it, I could smell it on the air, sweet and sharp. It made my mouth water. Cinnas fruit came from a long way off and was simply too expensive for people like me.
She held out my piece and I took it from her gently. “Thank you kindly, Auri.”
“You are welcome kindly, Kvothe.”
Elodin looked back and forth between the two of us. “Auri?”
I waited for him to finish his question, but that seemed to be all of it.
Auri understood before I did. “It’s my name,” she said, grinning proudly.
“Is it now?” Elodin said curiously.
Auri nodded. “Kvothe gave it to me.” She beamed in my direction. “Isn’t it marvelous?”
Elodin nodded. “It is a lovely name,” he said politely. “And it suits you.”
“It does,” she agreed. “It is like having a flower in my heart.” She gave Elodin a serious look. “If your name is getting too heavy, you should have Kvothe give you a new one.”
Elodin nodded again and took a bite of his cinnas. As he chewed, he turned to look at me. By the light of the moon, I saw his eyes. They were cool, thoughtful, and perfectly, utterly sane.
After we finished our dinner, I sang a few songs, and we said our good-byes. Elodin and I walked away together. I knew at least a half-dozen ways to climb down from the roof of Mains, but I let him take the lead.
We made our way past a round stone observatory that stuck up from the roof and moved onto a long stretch of reasonably flat lead sheeting.
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