The Wise Man's Fear Part 95

The boy thought about it. "I like mine better," he said after a moment's consideration.

I patted him on the back. "It's a good man that sticks to his own verse." I turned back to the leader of the little troupe. "Any gossip?"

He thought for a moment. "Bandits north of here in the Eld."

I nodded. "They've been cleared out now, so I've heard."

He thought some more. "I heard Alveron's getting married to the Lackless woman."

"I know a poem about Lackless!" The young boy chimed in again, and began: Seven things stand before The entrance to the Lackless door- "Hush." The older man cuffed the boy gently along side of his head. He looked up apologetically. "Boy's got a good ear, but not one lick of manners."

"Actually," I said. "I'd like to hear it."

He shrugged and let go of the boy, who glared at him before reciting: Seven things stand before The entrance to the Lackless door.

One of them a ring unworn One a word that is forsworn One a time that must be right One a candle without light One a son who brings the blood One a door that holds the flood One a thing tight-held in keeping Then comes that which comes with sleeping.

"It's one of those riddle rhymes," the father said apologetically. "Lord knows where he hears them, but he knows better than to go spouting every lewd thing he hears."

"Where did you hear it?" I asked.

The boy thought for a moment, then shrugged and began to scratch himself behind his knee. "Dunno. Kids."

"We should be getting on," the older man said, looking up at the sky. I dug into my purse, and handed him a silver n.o.ble. "What's this then?" he asked, eyeing it suspiciously.

"To help with a new bear," I said. "I've been through some tight times too, but I'm flush now."

They left after thanking me profusely. Poor fellows. No self-respecting Ruh troupe would ever stoop to bearbaiting. There was no skill involved, no pride in the performance.

But they could hardly be blamed for the their lack of Ruh blood, and we troupers have to watch out for each other. No one else does.

Tempi and I used our walking hours to discuss the Lethani and evenings to practice the Ketan. It was becoming easier for me, and I could sometimes make it as far as Catching Rain before Tempi caught some minuscule mistake and made me start over.

The two of us had found a halfway secluded place beside the inn where we had stopped for the day. Dedan, Hespe, and Marten were inside drinking. I worked my way carefully through the Ketan while Tempi sat with his back to a tree, practicing a basic fingering drill I had taught him with relentless determination. Over and over. Over and over.

I had just made it through Circling Hands when I caught a flicker of movement from the corner of my eye. I did not pause, as Tempi had taught me to avoid distraction while performing the Ketan. If I turned to look I would have to start over again.

Moving with painful slowness I began Dance Backwards. But as soon as I placed my heel, I could tell my balance was wrong. I waited for Tempi to call out, but he didn't.

I stopped the Ketan and turned to see a group of four Adem mercenaries walking toward us with a prowling grace. Tempi was already on his feet and walking toward them. My lute was back in its case and leaning up against the side of the tree.

Soon the five of them were standing in a tight group, close enough that their shoulders almost touched. Close enough that I couldn't hear the barest whisper of what they were saying or even see their hands. But I could tell from the angle of Tempi's shoulders that he was uncomfortable, defensive.

I knew calling out to Tempi would be considered rude, so I walked over. But before I came close enough to hear, one of the unfamiliar mercenaries stretched out a hand and pushed me away, his spread fingers pressing firmly against the center of my chest.

Without thinking, I made Break Lion, taking hold of his thumb and turning his wrist away from me. He loosed his hand from mine without any apparent effort and moved to trip me with Chasing Stone. I made Dance Backwards and got the balance right this time, but his other hand struck me in the temple just enough to dizzy me for half a second, not hard enough to even hurt.

My pride stung though. It was the same way Tempi struck me in silent rebuke for sloppy performance of the Ketan.

"Quick," the mercenary said softly in Aturan. It was only when I heard her voice that I realized she was a woman. Not that she was particularly masculine, it was simply that she seemed so similar to Tempi. She had the same sandy hair, pale grey eyes, calm expression, blood-red clothes. She was taller than Tempi by a few inches, and her shoulders were broader than his. But while she was whipcord thin, the tightness of her mercenary reds still revealed the lean curves of hip and breast.

Looking more closely, I could easily see three of the four mercenaries were women. The broad-shouldered one facing me had a thin scar cutting through her eyebrow and another close to her jaw. They were the same pale silver scars Tempi had on his arms and chest. And while they were far from gruesome, they made her expressionless face look oddly grim.

"Quick" she had said. On the surface it seemed to be a compliment, but I've been mocked enough in my life to recognize it, regardless of the language.

Even worse, her right hand slid all the way around to rest in the small of her back, palm facing out. Even with my rudimentary knowledge of Adem hand-talk I knew what that meant. Her hand was as far as it could possibly get from the hilt of her sword. At the same time, she turned her shoulder to me and looked away. I wasn't just being declared unthreatening, this was insultingly dismissive.

I fought to keep my face calm, guessing any expression would only further lower her opinion of me.

Tempi pointed back where I had come from. "Go," he said. Serious. Formal Serious. Formal.

I reluctantly obeyed, not wanting to make a scene.

The Adem stood in a close knot a quarter hour as I practiced the Ketan. Though I didn't hear a whisper of their conversation, it was obvious they were arguing. Their gestures were sharp and angry, the placement of their feet aggressive.

Eventually the four unfamiliar Adem left, walking back toward the road. Tempi returned to where I was trying to work my way through Threshing Wheat.

"Too wide." Irritation Irritation. He tapped my back leg and pushed my shoulder to show my balance was lacking.

I moved my foot and tried again. "Who were they, Tempi?"

"Adem," he said simply, sitting himself back down at the foot of the tree.

"Did you know them?"

"Yes." Tempi looked around, then brought my lute out of its case. With his hands occupied, he was doubly mute. I went back to practicing the Ketan, knowing that trying to pry answers out of him would be like pulling teeth.

Two hours pa.s.sed, and the sun began to sink behind the western trees. "Tomorrow I leave," he said. With both his hands still on the lute, I could only guess at his mood.

"Where?"

"To Haert. To Shehyn."

"Are those cities?"

"Haert is city. Shehyn is my teacher."

I had given some thought to what might be the matter. "Are you in trouble for teaching me?"

He set the lute back in the case and pressed the lid back in place. "Perhaps." Yes Yes.

"Is it forbidden?"

"It is most forbidden," he said.

Tempi stood and began the Ketan. I followed him, and both of us were quiet for a while.

"How much trouble?" I asked eventually.

"Most trouble," he said, and I heard an uncharacteristic shred of emotion in his voice, anxiety. "It was perhaps unwise."

Together we moved as slowly as the setting sun.

I thought of what the Cthaeh had said. The one shred of potentially useful information it had let slip in our conversation. You laughed at faeries until you saw one. Small wonder all your civilized neighbors dismiss the Chandrian as well. You'd have to leave your precious corners far behind before you found someone who might take you seriously. You wouldn't have a hope until you made it to the Stormwal. You laughed at faeries until you saw one. Small wonder all your civilized neighbors dismiss the Chandrian as well. You'd have to leave your precious corners far behind before you found someone who might take you seriously. You wouldn't have a hope until you made it to the Stormwal.

Felurian had said the Cthaeh only spoke the truth.

"Could I accompany you?" I asked.

"Accompany?" Tempi asked, his hands moving in a graceful circle intended to break the long bones of the arm.

"Travel with. Follow. To Haert."

"Yes."

"Would it help your trouble?"

"Yes."

"I will come."

"I thank you."

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED NINE.

Barbarians and Madmen TRUTHFULLY, I WANTED NOTHING more than to make my way back to Severen. I wanted to sleep in a bed again and take advantage of the Maer's favor while it was still fresh in his mind. I wanted to find Denna and make things right between us.

But Tempi was in trouble for teaching me. I couldn't simply run off and leave him to face that by himself. What's more, the Cthaeh had told me Denna had already left Severen behind. Though I hardly needed a prophetic faerie to tell me that. I'd been gone for a month, and Denna was never the sort to let gra.s.s grow under her feet.

So the next morning our group parted ways. Dedan, Hespe, and Marten were going south to Severen to report to the Maer and collect their pay. Tempi and I were heading northeast toward the Stormwal and Ademre.

"You sure you don't want me to take him the box?" Dedan asked for the fifth time.

"I promised the Maer I'd return any monies to him personally," I lied. "But I do need you to give him this." I handed the big mercenary the letter I'd written the night before. "It explains why I had to make you the leader of the group." I grinned. "You might get a bonus out of it."

Dedan puffed up importantly as he took hold of the letter.

Standing nearby, Marten made a noise that could have been a cough.

As Tempi and I traveled, I managed to coax a few details from the mercenary. Eventually I learned it was customary for someone of his social standing to gain permission before he took a student of his own.

Complicating matters was the fact that I was an outsider. A barbarian. In teaching a person like me, it seems like Tempi had done more than violate a custom. He had broken a trust with his teacher and his people.

"Will there be a trial of some sort?" I asked.

He shook his head. "No trial. Shehyn will ask me questions. I will say, 'I saw in Kvothe good iron waiting. He is of Lethani. He needs Lethani to guide him.' "

Tempi nodded at me. "Shehyn will ask you of the Lethani to see if I were right in my seeing. Shehyn will decide if you are iron worth striking." His hand circled, making the gesture for uneasy. uneasy.

"And what will happen if I am not?" I asked.

"For you?" Uncertainty Uncertainty. "For me? I will be cut away."

"Cut away?" I asked, hoping I misunderstood.

He held up a hand and wiggled his fingers. "Adem." He made a tight fist and shook it. "Ademre." Then he opened his hand and touched his little finger. "Tempi." He touched the other fingers. "Friend. Brother. Mother." He touched the thumb. "Shehyn." Then he made a gesture as if paring off his little finger and throwing it away. "Cut away," he said.

Not killed then, but exiled. I started to breathe easier until I looked in Tempi's pale eyes. For just a moment there was a crack in his perfect, placid mask, and behind it I saw the truth. Death would be a kinder punishment than being cut away. He was terrified, as frightened as anyone I had ever seen.

We agreed our best hope was for me to put myself entirely in Tempi's hands during the trip to Haert. I had approximately fifteen days to polish what I knew to a bright shine. The hope being that when I met Tempi's superiors, I could make a good impression.

Before we began that first day, Tempi instructed me to put my shaed away. Reluctantly, I did so. It folded down into a surprisingly small bundle that stowed easily into my travelsack.

The pace Tempi set was grueling. First the two of us moved through the dancer's stretch I had watched many times before. Then, instead of our usual brisk walk, we ran for an hour. Then we performed the Ketan with Tempi correcting my endless mistakes. Then we walked a mile.

Finally, we sat and discussed the Lethani. The fact that these discussions were in Ademic did not make matters easier, but we agreed I should immerse myself in the language so when I reached Haert I could speak as a civilized person.

"What is the purpose of the Lethani?" Tempi asked.

"To give us a path to follow?" I replied.

"No," Tempi said sternly. "The Lethani is not a path."

"What is the purpose of the Lethani, Tempi?"

"To guide us in our actions. By following the Lethani, you act rightly."

"Is this not a path?"

"No. The Lethani is what helps us choose a path."

Then we would begin the cycle again. Run an hour, perform the Ketan, walk a mile, discuss the Lethani. It took about two hours, and after our brief discussion was finished, we began again.

At one point in our discussion of the Lethani I began to make the gesture for understatement understatement. But Tempi lay his hand on top of mine, stopping me.

"When we are having talk about the Lethani, you are to make none of this." His left hand moved quickly through excitement, negation excitement, negation, and several others gestures I didn't recognize.