The Wise Man's Fear

by Patrick Rothfuss

  “Then show her,” I said smugly, leaning back in my chair.

  Sim took a deep breath and stared hard at the piece of chalk. It trembled.

  Wil leaned close to Denna and explained. “One sympathist can oppose another’s Alar,” he said. “It is just a matter of firmly believing that a drab is not the same as a silver penny at all.”

  Wil pointed, and the penny clattered to the tabletop.

  “Foul,” I protested, laughing. “Two on one isn’t fair.”

  “It is in this case,” Simmon said, and the chalk trembled again.

  “Fine,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Do your worst.”

  The chalk dropped to the table quickly, followed by the drab. But the silver talent stayed where it was.

  Sim sat back in his chair. “You’re creepy,” he said, shaking his head. “Fine, you win. ”Wilem nodded and relaxed as well.

  Denna looked at me. “So your Alar is stronger than theirs put together?”

  “Probably not,” I said graciously. “If they had practice working together they could probably beat me.”

  Her eyes ranged over the scattered coins. “So that’s it?” she asked, sounding slightly disappointed. “It’s all just energy moneychanging?”

  “There are other arts,” I said. “Sim does alchemy, for example.”

  “While I,” Wilem said, “focus on being pretty.”

  Denna looked us over again, her eyes serious. “Is there a type of magic that’s just . . .” She wiggled her fingers vaguely. “Just sort of writing things down?”

  “There’s sygaldry,” I said. “Like that bell in your room. It’s like permanent sympathy.”

  “But it’s still moneychanging, right?” she asked. “Just energy?”

  I nodded.

  Denna looked embarrassed as she asked, “What if someone told you they knew a type of magic that did more than that? A magic where you sort of wrote things down, and whatever you wrote became true?”

  She looked down nervously, her fingers tracing patterns on the tabletop. “Then, if someone saw the writing, even if they couldn’t read it, it would be true for them. They’d think a certain thing, or act a certain way depending on what the writing said.” She looked up at us again, her expression a strange mix of curiosity, hope, and uncertainty.

  The three of us looked at each other. Wilem shrugged.

  “Sounds a damn sight easier than alchemy,” Simmon said. “I’d rather do that than spend all day unbinding principles.”

  “Sounds like faerie-tale magic,” I said. “Storybook stuff that doesn’t really exist. I certainly never heard about anything like that at the University.”

  Denna looked down at the tabletop where her fingers still traced patterns against the wood. Her mouth was pursed slightly, her eyes distant.

  I couldn’t tell if she was disappointed or simply thoughtful. “Why do you ask?”

  Denna looked up at me and her expression quickly slid into a wry smile. She shrugged away the question. “It was just something I heard,” she said dismissively. “I thought it sounded too good to be true.”

  She looked over her shoulder. “I seem to have outlasted my overenthusiastic suitor,” she said.

  Wil held up the flat of his hand. “We had an arrangement,” he said. “There was drink involved, and a woman’s secret.”

  “I’ll have a word with the barman before I leave,” Denna said, her eyes dancing with amusement. “As for the secret: There are two ladies sitting behind you. They’ve been making eyes at you for most of the evening. The one in green fancies Sim, while the one with short blond hair seems to have a thing for Cealdish men who focus on being pretty.”

  “We have already made note of them,” Wilem said without turning to look. “Unfortunately, they are already in the company of a young Modegan gentleman.”

  “The gentleman is not with them in any romantic sense,” Denna said. “While the ladies have been eyeing you, the gentleman has been making it abundantly clear that he prefers redheads.” She lay her hand on my arm possessively. “Unfortunately for him, I have already staked my claim.”

  I fought the urge to look at the table. “Are you serious?” I asked.

  “Don’t worry,” she said to Wil and Sim. “I’ll send Deoch over to distract the Modegan. That will leave the door open for the two of you.”

  “What’s Deoch going to do?” Simmon said with a laugh. “Juggle?”

  Denna gave him a frank look.

  “What?” Simmon said. “Wh . . . Deoch isn’t sly.”

  Denna blinked at him. “He and Stanchion own the Eolian together,” she said. “Didn’t you know that?”

  “They own the place,” Sim said. “They’re not, you know, together.”

  Denna laughed. “Of course they are.”

  “But Deoch is up to his neck in women,” Simmon protested. “He . . . he can’t—”

  Denna looked at him as if he were simple, then to Wil and myself. “The two of you knew, didn’t you?”

  Wilem shrugged. “I hadn’t any knowledge of it. But small wonder he is a Basha. He is attractive enough.” Wil hesitated, frowned. “Basha. What is a word for that here? A man who is intimate with both women and men?”

  “Lucky?” Denna suggested. “Tired? Ambidextrous?”

  “Ambisextrous,” I corrected.

  “That won’t do,” Denna chided me. “If we don’t have impressive sounding names for things, no one will take us seriously.”

  Sim blinked at her, obviously unable to come to grips with the situation.

  “You see,” Denna said slowly, as if explaining to a child. “It’s all just energy. And we can direct it in different ways.” She blossomed into a brilliant smile, as if realizing the perfect way to explain the situation to him. “It’s like when you do this.” She began to vigorously rub her hands up and down her thighs, mimicking his earlier motion. “It’s all just energy.”

  By this point Wilem was hiding his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Simmon’s expression was still incredulous and confused, but now it was also a furious, blushing red.

  I got to my feet and took Denna’s elbow. “Leave the poor boy alone,” I said as I steered her gently toward the door. “He’s from Atur. They’re laced a little tightly in those parts.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Gentlemen and Thieves

  IT WAS LATE WHEN Denna and I left the Eolian, and the streets were empty. In the distance I heard fiddle music and the hollow clopping of a horse’s hooves on cobblestones.

  “So what rock have you been hiding under?” she asked.

  “The usual rock,” I said, then a thought occurred to me. “Did you come looking for me at the University? At the big square building that smells like coal smoke?”

  Denna shook her head. “I wouldn’t begin to know where to find you there. It’s like a maze. If I can’t catch you playing at Anker’s, I know I’m out of luck.” She looked at me curiously. “Why?”

  “Someone showed up asking for me,” I said with a dismissive gesture. “She said I’d sold her a charm. I thought it might be you.”

  “I did come looking for you a while back,” she said. “But I never mentioned your abundant charm.”

  The conversation lulled and silence swelled between us. I couldn’t help but think of her walking arm in arm with Ambrose. I didn’t want to know any more about it, but at the same time, it was the only thing in my head.

  “I came to visit you at the Grey Man,” I said, just to fill the air between us. “But you’d already gone.”

  She nodded. “Kellin and I had a bit of a falling out.”

  “Nothing too bad, I hope.” I gestured to her throat. “I notice you still have the necklace.”

  Denna touched the teardrop emerald absentmindedly. “No. Nothing terrible. You can say this for Kellin, he’s a traditionalist. When he gives a gift, he sticks to it. He said the color flattered me, and I should keep the earrings too.” She sighed. “I’d feel be
tter if he hadn’t been so gracious. Still, they’re nice to have. A safety net of sorts. They’ll make my life easier if I don’t hear from my patron soon.”

  “You’re still hoping to hear from him?” I asked. “After what happened in Trebon? After he’s been out of contact for more than a month with no word at all?”

  Denna shrugged. “That’s just his way. I told you, he’s a secretive sort. It’s not odd for him to be gone for long stretches of time.”

  “I have a friend who is trying to find me a patron,” I said. “I could have him look for you too.”

  She looked up at me, her eyes unreadable. “It’s sweet that you think I deserve better, but I really don’t. I have a good voice, but that’s it. Who would hire a half-trained musician without even an instrument to her name?”

  “Anyone with ears to hear you,” I said. “Anyone with eyes to see.”

  Denna looked down, her hair falling around her face like a curtain. “You’re sweet,” she said quietly, making an odd fidgeting gesture with her hands.

  “What ended up souring things with Kellin?” I asked, steering the conversation somewhere safer.

  “I spent too much time entertaining gentlemen callers,” she said dryly.

  “You should have explained to him that I’m nothing remotely resembling a gentleman,” I said. “That might have eased his mind.” But I knew I couldn’t have been the problem. I’d only managed to visit once. Had it been Ambrose that had come calling? I could picture him in the lavish sitting room all too easily. That damn hat of his hanging casually off the corner of a chair as he drank chocolate and told jokes.

  Denna’s mouth quirked. “It was mostly Geoffrey he objected to,” she said. “Apparently I was supposed to sit quiet and alone in my little box until he came to call on me.”

  “How is Geoffrey?” I asked to be polite. “Has he managed to get a second thought into his head yet?”

  I expected to get a laugh, but Denna merely sighed. “He has, but none of them are particularly good thoughts.” She shook her head. “He came to Imre to make a name for himself with his poetry, but lost his shirt gambling.”

  “I’ve heard that story before,” I said. “Happens all the time over at the University.”

  “That was just the beginning,” she said. “He figured he could win his money back, of course. First came the pawnshop. Then he borrowed money and lost that too.” She made a conciliatory gesture. “Though in all fairness, he didn’t gamble that away. Some bitch rooked him. Caught him with the weeping widow of all things.”

  I looked at her, puzzled. “The what?”

  Denna looked at me sideways, then shrugged. “It’s a simple rook,” she said. “A young woman stands outside a pawnshop all flustered and teary, then when some rich gent walks by she explains how she came to the city to sell her wedding ring. She needs money for taxes, or to repay a moneylender.”

  She waved her hands impatiently. “The details don’t matter. What matters is when she got to town, she asked someone else to pawn the ring for her. Because she doesn’t know a thing about bargaining, of course.”

  Denna stopped walking in front of a pawnshop window, her face a mask of distress. “I thought I could trust him!” she said. “But he just pawned it and ran off with the money! There’s the ring right there!” She pointed dramatically at the shop’s window.

  “But,” Denna continued, holding up a finger. “Luckily, he sold the ring for a fraction of what it’s worth. It’s a family heirloom worth forty talents, but the pawnshop is selling it for four.”

  Denna stepped close and lay her hand on my chest, looking up at me with wide, imploring eyes. “If you bought the ring, we could sell it for at least twenty. I’d give you your four talents back right away.”

  She stepped back and shrugged. “That sort of thing.”

  I frowned. “How is that a rook? I’ll catch on as soon as we go to the assessor.”

  Denna rolled her eyes. “That’s not how it works. We agree to meet tomorrow at noon. But by the time I get there, you’ve already bought the ring yourself and run off with it.”

  I suddenly understood. “And you split the money with the owner of the pawnshop?”

  She patted my shoulder. “I knew you’d catch on sooner or later.”

  It seemed fairly watertight except for one thing. “Seems you’d need a special combination of trustworthy-yet-crooked pawnshop as a partner.”

  “True,” she admitted. “They’re usually marked though.” Denna pointed to the top of the nearby pawnshop’s doorframe. There were a series of marks that could easily be mistaken for random scratches in the paint.

  “Ah,” I hesitated for half a moment before adding, “In Tarbean, markings like that meant this was a safe place to fence . . .” I groped for an appropriate euphemism. “Questionably acquired goods.”

  If Denna was startled by my confession she gave no sign of it. She merely shook her head and pointed more closely to the markings, moving her finger as she went. “This says, ‘Reliable owner. Open to simple rooks. Even split.’ ” She glanced around at the rest of the doorframe and the shop’s sign. “Nothing about fencing goods from uncle.”

  “I never knew how to read them,” I admitted. I glanced sideways at her, careful to keep any judgment out of my tone. “And you know how this sort of thing works because . . .?”

  “I read it in a book,” she said sarcastically. “How do you think I know about it?”

  She continued walking down the street. I joined her.

  “I don’t usually play it as a widow,” Denna said, almost as an afterthought. “I’m too young for that. For me it’s my mother’s ring. Or grandmother’s.” She shrugged. “You change it to whatever feels right at the time.”

  “What if the gent is honest?” I ask. “What if he shows up at noon, willing to help?”

  “It doesn’t happen often,” she with a wry twist to her mouth. “Only once for me. Caught me completely by surprise. Now I set things up in advance with the owner just in case. I’m happy to rook some greedy bastard who tries to take advantage of a young girl. But I’m not about to take money off someone who’s trying to help.” Her expression went hard. “Unlike the bitch who got hold of Geoffrey.”

  “Showed up at noon, did he?”

  “Of course he did,” she said. “Just gave her the money. ‘No need to pay me back, miss. You go save the family farm.’ ” Denna ran her hands through her hair, looking up at the sky. “A farm! That doesn’t even make any sense! Why would a farmer’s wife have a diamond necklace?” She glanced over at me. “Why are the sweet ones such idiots with women?”

  “He’s noble,” I said. “Can’t he just write home?”

  “He’s never been on good terms with his family,” she said. “Less so now. His last letter didn’t have any money, just the news that his mother was sick.”

  Something in her voice caught my ear. “How sick?” I asked.

  “Sick.” Denna didn’t look up. “Very sick. And of course he’s already sold his horse and can’t afford passage on a ship.” She sighed again. “It’s like watching one of those awful Tehlin dramas unfold. The Path Ill-Chosen or something of the sort.”

  “If that’s the case, all he has to do is stumble into a church at the end of the fourth act,” I said. “He’ll pray, learn his lesson, and live the rest of his days a clean and virtuous boy.”

  “It would be different if he came to me for advice.” She made a frustrated gesture. “But no, he stops by afterward to tell me what he’s done. The guild moneylender cut off his credit, so what does he do?”

  My stomach twisted. “He goes to a gaelet,” I said.

  “And he was happy when he told me!” Denna looked at me, her expression despairing. “Like he’d finally figured a way out of this mess.” She shivered. “Let’s go in here.” She pointed to a small garden. “There’s more wind tonight than I thought.”

  I set down my lute case and shrugged out of my cloak. “Here, I’m fine.”


  Denna looked like she was going to object for a moment, then drew it around herself. “And you say you’re not a gentleman,” she chided.

  “I’m not,” I said. “I just know it will smell better after you’ve worn it.”

  “Ah,” she said wisely. “And then you will sell it to a perfumery and make your fortune.”

  “That’s been my plan all along,” I admitted. “A cunning and elaborate scheme. I’m more thief than a gentleman, you see.”

  We sat down on a bench out of the wind. “I think you’ve lost a buckle,” she said.

  I looked down at my lute case. The narrow end was gaping open, and the iron buckle was nowhere to be seen.

  I sighed and absentmindedly reached for one of the inner pockets of my cloak.

  Denna made a tiny noise. Nothing loud, just a startled indrawn breath as she looked suddenly up at me, her eyes wide and dark in the moonlight.

  I pulled my hand back as if burned by a fire, stammering an apology.

  Denna began to laugh quietly. “Well that’s embarrassing,” she said softly to herself.

  “I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “I wasn’t thinking. I’ve got some wire in there that I can use to hold this closed for now.”

  “Oh,” she said. “Of course.” Her hands moved inside the cloak for a moment, then she held out a piece of wire.

  “I’m sorry,” I said again.

  “I was just startled,” she said. “I didn’t think you were the sort to grab hold of a lady without some warning first.”

  I looked down at the lute, embarrassed, and made my hands busy, running the wire through a hole the buckle had left and twisting it tightly shut.

  “It’s a lovely lute,” Denna said after a long, quiet moment. “But that case is an absolute shambles.”

  “I tapped myself out buying the lute itself,” I said, then looked up as if suddenly struck with an idea. “I know! I’ll ask Geoffrey to give me the name of his gaelet! Then I can afford two cases!”

  She swatted at me playfully, and I moved to sit next to her on the bench.

  Things were quiet for a moment, then Denna looked down at her hands and repeated a fidgeting gesture she’d made several times during our talk. Only now did I realize what she was doing. “Your ring,” I asked. “What happened to it?”