The Wise Man's Fear Part 104

Vashet laughed, shaking her head. "That is like throwing two virgins into a bed. Enthusiasm, pa.s.sion, and ignorance are not a good combination. Someone is likely to get hurt."

"I hardly think it's fair to call my fighting virginal virginal," I said. "I'm not near your level, but you yourself said my Ketan is remarkably good."

"I said your Ketan was remarkably good considering the amount of time you have been studying," she corrected me. "Which is less than two months. Which is no time at all."

"It's frustrating," I admitted. "If I strike a blow against you, it's because you let me. There is no substance to it. You've given it to me. I haven't earned it for myself."

"Any strike or throw you make against me is earned," she said. "Even if I offer it to you. But I understand. There is something to be said for honest compet.i.tion."

I started to say something else, but she put her hand over my mouth. "I've said I understand. Stop fighting after you have won." Hand still over my mouth, she tapped a finger thoughtfully. "Very well. Continue your progress and I will find you someone at your own level to fight."

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SIXTEEN.

Height I WAS ALMOST BEGINNING TO feel comfortable in Haert. My language was improving and I felt less isolated now that I was able to exchange brief pleasantries with others. Vashet occasionally shared meals with me, helping me feel like slightly less of a pariah. WAS ALMOST BEGINNING TO feel comfortable in Haert. My language was improving and I felt less isolated now that I was able to exchange brief pleasantries with others. Vashet occasionally shared meals with me, helping me feel like slightly less of a pariah.

We had done sword-work this morning, which meant an easy start to the day. Vashet was still showing me how the sword was incorporated into the Ketan, and the moments we fought were few and far between. After a few hours of this, we worked on my Ademic, then more sword-work.

After lunch, we moved on to hand fighting. I couldn't help but feel that here, at least, I was progressing well. After half an hour, not only was Vashet breathing harder, but she began to sweat a bit. I was still no sort of challenge to her, of course, but after days of humiliating nonchalance on her part, she was finally having to put forth a shred of effort to keep ahead of me.

So we continued to fight, and I noticed that-How can I say this delicately ? She smelled wonderful. Not like perfume or flowers or anything like that. She smelled like clean sweat and oiled metal and crushed gra.s.s from when I'd thrown her to the ground some time before. It was a good smell. She ...

I can't describe this delicately, I suppose. What I mean to say is that she smelled like s.e.x. Not as if she'd been having it, as if she was made of it. When she came in close to grapple me, the smell of her combined with her body pressing against mine ... For a second it was like someone had thrown a switch in my head. All I could think of was kissing her mouth, biting the soft skin of her neck, tearing at her clothes and licking the sweat off her- I did none of these things, of course. But at the moment I wanted nothing more. This is embarra.s.sing to look back on, but I will not bother defending myself except to point out that I was in the full flower of my youth, fit and healthy. And she was quite an attractive woman, though ten years my senior.

Add to this the simple fact that I had gone from the loving arms of Felurian, to the eager arms of Losine, and from thence to a long, barren stretch of training with Tempi as we traveled to Haert. That meant for three span, I had been constantly exhausted, anxious, confused, and terrified by turns.

Now I was none of these things. Vashet was a good teacher and made sure I was well-rested and relaxed as possible. I was growing more confident in my abilities and more comfortable around her.

Given all of this, it's no great surprise I had the reaction I did.

At the time, however, I was startled and embarra.s.sed as only a young man can be. I stepped away from Vashet, blushing and fumbling an apology. I tried to hide my obvious arousal, and in doing so only drew more attention to it.

Vashet looked down at what my hands were trying vainly to conceal. "Well then, I suppose I will take that as a compliment and not a curious new avenue of attack."

If a person could die from shame, I would have.

"Would you like to take care of it yourself?" Vashet asked easily. "Or would you prefer a partner?"

"I beg your pardon?" I said stupidly.

"Come now." She gestured to my hands. "Even if you could keep your mind away from that, it would doubtless throw your balance off." She gave a low, throaty chuckle. "You'll need to tend to it before we continue your lessons. I can leave you to it, or we can find a soft spot and see who can pin the other best two of three."

The casual tone of her voice convinced me I'd misunderstood her. Then she gave me a knowing smirk, and I realized I'd understood her perfectly well.

"Where I come from, a teacher and a student would never ..." I stumbled, trying to think of a polite way to defuse the situation.

Vashet rolled her eyes at me, the exasperated expression looking odd on an Adem face. "Do your teachers and students also never fight? Never talk? Never eat together?"

"But this," I said, "This ..."

She sighed. "Kvothe, you need to remember. You come from a barbarous place. Much of what you grew up thinking is quite wrongheaded and foolish. None of it as much as the strange customs you barbarians have built around your s.e.xplay."

"Vashet," I said. "I ..."

She cut me off with a sharp gesture. "Whatever you are about to say, I have doubtless heard before from my poet king. But there are only so many hours of light in the day. So I ask you this: are you desirous of s.e.x?"

I gave a helpless shrug, knowing it would be pointless to deny it.

"Would you like to have s.e.x with me?"

I could still smell her. At that moment, I wanted it more than anything. "Yes."

"Are you free of disease?" she asked seriously.

I nodded, too off balance to be startled by the frankness of the question.

"Very well then. If I remember correctly, there is a nice patch of moss out of the wind not too far from here." She began to walk up a nearby hill, her fingers working the buckle that fastened her sword's scabbard over her shoulder. "Come with me."

Her memory did serve her well. Two trees arched their branches over a thick bed of soft moss that was snugged up against a small stony bluff, sheltered from the wind by some convenient bushes.

It quickly became obvious that what Vashet had in mind was not an afternoon of twining idly in the shade. To say she was businesslike would be a great disservice to her, as Vashet's laughter always ran very close to the surface. But she was not flirtatious or coy.

She stripped off her mercenary reds without the least fanfare or teasing, revealing a few scars, and a body hard and lean and corded with muscle. Which isn't to say that she wasn't also round and soft as well. Then she teased me for staring as if I'd never seen a naked woman before, when the truth was I'd simply never seen one standing full naked in the sunlight.

When I didn't undress fast enough to suit her, Vashet laughed and mocked my bashfulness. Stepping close, she stripped me naked as a plucked chicken, then kissed me on the mouth, her warm skin pressing against the entire front of my body.

"I've never kissed a woman my own height before," I mused when we stopped for a breath. "It's a different experience."

"See how I continue to be your teacher in all things?" she said. "Your next lesson is this: all women are the same height lying down. The same cannot be said for your sort, of course. Too much depends on a man's mood and his natural gifts."

Vashet took my hand and brought us both to lie on the soft moss. "There," she said. "As I suspected. Now you are taller than me. Does this set you at your ease?"

It did.

I was prepared for things to be awkward after Vashet and I returned from the bushes, and was surprised to find they were nothing of the sort. She did not suddenly grow flirtatious, which I wouldn't have known how to cope with. Neither did she feel obliged to treat me with any newfound tenderness. This became clear somewhere around the fifth time she managed to lure me off my guard, catch me with Thunder Upward, and throw me roughly to the ground.

In all, she acted as if nothing odd at all had happened. Which meant either nothing odd had happened or something very odd had happened and she was pointedly ignoring it.

Which meant that everything was lovely, or everything was going terribly wrong.

Later, as I ate supper alone, I rolled what I knew of the Adem around in my head. No nudity taboo. They didn't consider physical contact particularly intimate. Vashet had been very casual both before, during, and after our encounter.

I thought back to the naked couple I had stumbled onto several days ago. They had been startled, but not embarra.s.sed.

s.e.x was viewed differently here, obviously. But I didn't know any of the specific differences. That meant I didn't have the first idea of how to conduct myself properly. And that that meant what I was doing was dangerous as walking around blind. More like running blind, really. meant what I was doing was dangerous as walking around blind. More like running blind, really.

Normally if I had a question about the Adem culture, I asked Vashet. She was my touchstone. But I could imagine too many ways for that conversation to go astray, and her goodwill was all that stood between me and the loss of my fingers.

By the time I finished eating, I'd decided it would be best to simply follow Vashet's lead. She was my teacher, after all.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SEVENTEEN.

Barbarian Cunning THE DAYS Pa.s.sED QUICKLY, as days tend to do when there is much to fill them. Vashet continued to teach me, and I turned the whole of my attention toward being a clever and attentive student.

Our amorous encounters continued, punctuating my training. I never initiated them directly, but Vashet could tell when I was unproductively distracted and was quick to pull me down into the bushes. "In order to clear your foolish barbarian head," as she said.

Before and afterward I still found these encounters troubling. During, however, I was far from anxious. Vashet seemed to enjoy herself as well.

That said, she didn't seem the least interested in much of what I had learned from Felurian. She had no interest in playing ivy, and while she did enjoy thousand hands, she had little patience for it, and it usually ended up being more like seventy-five hands. Generally speaking, as soon as we had caught our breath, Vashet was tying on her mercenary reds and reminding me that if I kept forgetting to turn my heel out, I would never be able to hit any harder than a boy of six.

Not all my time was spent training with Vashet. When she was busy, she set me to practice the Ketan, consider the Lethani, or watch the other students spar.

There were a few afternoons or evenings when Vashet simply sent me on my way. So I explored the surrounding town and discovered Haert was much larger than I'd originally a.s.sumed. The difference was that all its houses and shops weren't huddled together in a knot. They were scattered over several square miles of rocky hillside.

I found the baths early on. By which I mean, I was pointedly directed there by Vashet with instructions to wash off my barbarian stink.

They were a marvel. A sprawling stone building built on the top of what I guessed was either a natural hot spring or some marvelously engineered plumbing. There were large rooms full of water and small rooms full of steam. Rooms with deep pools for soaking, and rooms with great bra.s.s tubs for scrubbing. There was even one room with a pool big enough for swimming.

All through the building, the Adem mingled without any regard for age, gender, or state of undress. This didn't surprise me nearly as much as it would have a month ago, but it still took a great deal of getting used to.

At first I found it hard not to stare at the b.r.e.a.s.t.s of the naked women. Then, when some of that novelty faded, I found it hard not to stare at the scars that crossed the bodies of mercenaries. It was easy to tell who had taken the red even when their clothes were off.

Rather than fight my urge to gawk, I found it easier to go early in the morning or late at night when the baths were largely empty. Coming and going at odd hours wasn't difficult, as there was no lock on the door. It was open at all hours for anyone to use. Soap and candles and towels were available for the taking. The baths, Vashet told me, were maintained by the school.

I found the smithy by following the noise of ringing iron. The man working there was pleasantly talkative. He was glad to show me his tools and tell me the names for them in Ademic.

Once I knew to look, I saw there were signs above the doors of the stores. Pieces of wood carved or painted to show what was sold inside: bread, herbs, barrel staves.... None of the signs had words, which was fortunate for me, as I had no idea how to read Ademic.

I visited an apothecary where I was told I was not welcome, and a tailor where I was greeted warmly. I spent some of the three royals I'd stolen to buy two new sets of clothes, as those I had with me were showing their miles. I bought shirts and pants in muted colors after the local fashion, hoping they might help me fit in just a little better.

I also spent many hours watching the sword tree. At first I did this under Vashet's direction, but before long I found myself drawn back when I had time of my own to spend. Its motions were hypnotic, comforting. At times it seemed the branches wrote against the sky, spelling the name of the wind.

True to her word, Vashet found me a sparring partner.

"Her name is Celean," Vashet told me over breakfast. "Your first meeting will be at the sword tree at midday. You should take this morning to prepare yourself however you think is best."

At last. A chance to prove myself. A chance to match wits with someone at my own level of skill. A real contest.

I was at the sword tree early, of course, and when I first saw them approaching, I had a moment of confused panic when I thought the small figure at Vashet's side was Penthe, the woman who had beaten Shehyn.

Then I realized it couldn't be Penthe. The figure approaching with Vashet was short, but the wind revealed a straight, lean body with none of Penthe's curves. What's more, the figure wore a shirt of bright cornsilk yellow, not mercenary red.

I fought down a stab of disappointment, even though I knew it was foolish. Vashet had said she had found a fair fight for me. Obviously it couldn't be someone who had already taken the red.

They came closer still, and my excitement guttered and died.

It was a little girl. Not even a young girl of fourteen or so. It was a little little girl, no more than ten by my best guess. She was skinny as a twig and so short her head barely made it up to my breastbone. Her grey eyes were huge in her tiny face. girl, no more than ten by my best guess. She was skinny as a twig and so short her head barely made it up to my breastbone. Her grey eyes were huge in her tiny face.

I was humiliated. The only thing that kept me from crying out in protest was the fact that I knew Vashet would find it unspeakably rude.

"Celean, this is Kvothe," Vashet said in Ademic.

This young girl looked me up and down appraisingly, then took an unconscious half-step closer. A compliment. She considered me enough of a threat that she wanted to be close enough to strike at me if necessary. It was closer than an adult would have stood, because she was shorter.

Polite greeting, I gestured.

Celean returned my gesture. It might have been my imagination, but it seemed the angle of her hands implied polite nonsubordinate greeting polite nonsubordinate greeting.

If Vashet saw it, she made no comment. "It is my desire that the two of you fight."

Celean looked me over again, her narrow face set in the typical Adem impa.s.sivity. The wind blew at her hair, and I could see a half-healed cut running from above her eyebrow up into her hairline.

"Why?" the girl asked calmly. She didn't seem afraid. It sounded more as if she couldn't think of the least reason she would want to fight me.

"Because there are things you can learn from each other," Vashet said. "And because I say you will."

Vashet gestured to me: Attend Attend. "Celean's Ketan is quite exceptional. She has years of experience, and is easily the match of any two girls her size."

Vashet tapped Celean on the shoulder twice. Caution Caution. "Kvothe, on the other hand, is new to the Ketan and has much to learn. But he is stronger than you, and taller, with a better reach. He also possesses a barbarian's cunning."

I looked at Vashet, unsure if she were poking fun at me or not.

"Also," Vashet continued to Celean, "you will very likely have your mother's height when you are grown, so you should practice fighting those larger than yourself." Attend Attend. "Lastly, he is new to our language, and for this you will not mock him."

The girl nodded. I noticed Vashet hadn't specified I couldn't be mocked for other reasons.

Vashet straightened and spoke formally. "Nothing with the intention to injure." She held up fingers, marking the rules she had taught me when we started hand fighting. "You may strike hard, but not viciously. Be careful of the head and neck, and nothing at all toward the eyes. You are each responsible for the other's safety. If one of you gains a solid submission against the other, do not attempt to break it. Signal fairly and count it the end of the bout."

"I know this," Celean said. Irritation Irritation.

"It bears repeating," Vashet said. Stern rebuke Stern rebuke. "Losing a fight is forgivable. Losing your temper is not. This is why I have brought you here instead of some little boy. Did I choose wrongly?"