More Than Salt

“T ODAY,” ELODIN SAID BRIGHTLY, “we will talk about things that cannot be talked about. Specifically, we will discuss why some things cannot be discussed.”

I sighed and set down my pencil. Every day I hoped this class would be the one where Elodin actually taught us something. Every day I brought a hardback and one of my few precious pieces of paper, ready to take advantage of the moment of clarity. Every day some part of me expected Elodin to laugh and admit he’d just been testing our resolve with his endless nonsense.

And every day I was disappointed.

“The majority of important things cannot be said outright,” Elodin said. “They cannot be made explicit. They can only be implied.” He looked out at his handful of students in the otherwise empty lecture hall. “Name something that cannot be explained.” He pointed at Uresh. “Go.”

Uresh considered for a moment. “Humor. If you explain a joke, it isn’t a joke.”

Elodin nodded, then pointed at Fenton.

“Naming?” Fenton asked.

“That is a cheap answer, Re’lar,” Elodin said with a hint of reproach. “But you correctly anticipate the theme of my lecture, so we will let it slide.” He pointed at me.

“There isn’t anything that can’t be explained,” I said firmly. “If something can be understood, it can be explained. A person might not be able to do a good job of explaining it. But that just means it’s hard, not that it’s impossible.”

Elodin held up a finger. “Not hard or impossible. Merely pointless. Some things can only be inferred.” He gave me an infuriating smile. “By the way, your answer should have been ‘music.’”

“Music explains itself,” I said. “It is the road, and it is the map that shows the road. It is both together.”

“But can you explain how music works?” Elodin asked.

“Of course,” I said. Though I wasn’t sure of any such thing.

“Can you explain how music works without using music?”

That brought me up short. While I was trying to think of a response, Elodin turned to Fela.

“Love?” she asked.

Elodin raised an eyebrow as if mildly scandalized by this, then nodded approvingly.

“Hold on a moment,” I said. “We’re not done. I don’t know if I could explain music without using it, but that’s beside the point. That’s not explanation, it’s translation.”

Elodin’s face lit up. “That’s it exactly!” he said. “Translation. All explicit knowledge is translated knowledge, and all translation is imperfect.”

“So all explicit knowledge is imperfect?” I asked. “Tell Master Brandeur geometry is subjective. I’d love to watch that discussion.”

“Not all knowledge,” Elodin admitted. “But most.”

“Prove it,” I said.

“You can’t prove nonexistence,” Uresh interjected in a matter-of-fact way. He sounded exasperated. “Flawed logic.”

I ground my teeth at that. It was flawed logic. I never would have made that mistake if I’d been better rested. “Demonstrate it then,” I said.

“Fine, fine.” Elodin walked over to where Fela sat. “We’ll use Fela’s example.” He took her hand and pulled her to her feet, motioning me to follow.

I came reluctantly to my feet as well and Elodin arranged the two of us so we stood facing each other in profile to the class. “Here we have two lovely young people,” he said. “Their eyes meet across the room.”

Elodin pushed my shoulder and I stumbled forward half a step. “He says hello. She says hello. She smiles. He shifts uneasily from foot to foot.” I stopped doing just that and there was a faint murmur of laughter from the others.

“There is something ephemeral in the air,” Elodin said, moving to stand behind Fela. He put his hands on her shoulders, leaning close to her ear. “She loves the lines of him,” he said softly. “She is curious about the shape of his mouth. She wonders if this could be the one, if she could unclasp the secret pieces of her heart to him.” Fela looked down, her cheeks flushing a bright scarlet.

Elodin stalked around to stand behind me. “Kvothe looks at her, and for the first time he understands the impulse that first drove men to paint. To sculpt. To sing.”

He circled us again, eventually standing between us like a priest about to perform a wedding. “There exists between them something tenuous and delicate. They can both feel it. Like static in the air. Faint as frost.”

He looked me full in the face. His dark eyes serious. “Now. What do you do?”

I looked back at him, utterly lost. If there was one thing I knew less about than naming, it was courting women.

“There are three paths here,” Elodin said to the class. He held up one finger. “First. Our young lovers can try to express what they feel. They can try to play the half-heard song their hearts are singing.”

Elodin paused for effect. “This is the path of the honest fool, and it will go badly. This thing between you is too tremulous for talk. It is a spark so faint that even the most careful breath might snuff it out.”

Master Namer shook his head. “Even if you are clever and have a way with words, you are doomed in this. Because while your mouths might speak the same language, your hearts do not.” He looked at me intently. “This is an issue of translation.”

Elodin held up two fingers. “The second path is more careful. You talk of small things. The weather. A familiar play. You spend time in company. You hold hands. In doing so you slowly learn the secret meanings of each other’s words. This way, when the time comes you can speak with subtle meaning underneath your words, so there is understanding on both sides.”

Elodin made a sweeping gesture toward me. “Then there is the third path. The path of Kvothe.” He strode to stand shoulder to shoulder with me, facing Fela. “You sense something between you. Something wonderful and delicate.”

He gave a romantic, lovelorn sigh. “And, because you desire certainty in all things, you decide to force the issue. You take the shortest route. Simplest is best, you think.” Elodin extended his own hands and made wild grasping motions in Fela’s direction. “So you reach out and you grab this young woman’s breasts.”

There was a burst of startled laughter from everyone except Fela and myself. I scowled. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and her flush spread down her neck until it was hidden by her shirt.

Elodin turned his back to her and looked me in the eye.

“Re’lar Kvothe,” he said seriously. “I am trying to wake your sleeping mind to the subtle language the world is whispering. I am trying to seduce you into understanding. I am trying to teach you.” He leaned forward until his face was almost touching mine. “Quit grabbing at my tits.”

* * *

I left Elodin’s class in a foul mood.

Though to be honest, my mood of the last few days had been nothing but different variations of foul. I tried to hide it from my friends, but I was starting to crack under the weight of it all.

It was the loss of my lute that had done it. Everything else I’d been able to take in stride, the stinging burn across my chest, the constant ache in my knees, the lack of sleep. The persistent fear that I might let my Alar slip at the wrong moment and suddenly start vomiting blood.

I’d been coping with it all: my desperate poverty, my frustration with Elodin’s class. Even the new undertow of anxiety that came from knowing Devi was waiting on the other side of the river with a heart full of rage, three drops of my blood, and an Alar like the ocean in a storm.

But the loss of my lute was too much. It wasn’t just that I needed it to earn my room and board at Anker’s. It wasn’t just that my lute was the linchpin of my ability to make a living if I was forced out of the University.

No. The simple fact was that with my music, I could cope with the rest. My music was the glue that held me together. Only two days without it, and I was falling apart.

After Elodin’s class, I couldn’t bear the thought of more hours hunched over a worktable in the Fishery. My hands ached at the thought of it, and my eyes were gritty with lack of sleep.

So instead I wandered back to Anker’s for an early lunch. I must have looked fairly pitiful because he brought me out a double rasher of bacon with my soup, and a short beer besides.

“How did your dinner go, if you don’t mind my asking?” Anker asked, leaning against the bar.

I looked up at him. “Beg your pardon?”

“With your young lady,” he said. “I’m not one to pry, but the runner just dropped it off. I had to read it to see who it was for.”

I gave Anker my blankest look.

Anker gave me a puzzled look, then frowned. “Didn’t Laurel give you your note?”

I shook my head and Anker cursed bitterly. “I swear, some days the light should shine straight through that girl’s head.” He began to rummage around behind the bar. “Runner dropped off a note for you day before yesterday. I told her to give it to you when you got in. Here it is.” He held up a damp and rather draggled piece of paper and handed it to me.

It read:

Kvothe,

I am back in town and would greatly enjoy the company of a charming gentleman at dinner tonight. Sadly, there are none available. Would you care to join me at the Split Stave?

Expectantly yours,

D.

My spirits rose a little. Notes from Denna were a rare treat, and she’d never invited me to dinner before. While I was angry that I’d missed her, knowing she was back in town and eager to see me lifted my spirits considerably.

I wolfed down my lunch, and decided to skip my Siaru lecture in favor of a trip to Imre. I hadn’t seen Denna in more than a span, and spending time with her was the only thing I could think of that might improve my mood.

My enthusiasm dampened a bit as I made my way over the river. It was a long walk, and my knees started to ache even before I’d made it to Stonebridge. The sun was piercingly bright, but not warm enough to fight the chill of the early winter wind. The dust off the road gusted into my eyes and made me choke.

Denna wasn’t at any of the inns where she occasionally stayed. She wasn’t listening to music at the Taps or Goat in the Door. Neither Deoch nor Stanchion had seen her. I worried she might have left town entirely while I was occupied. She could be gone for months. She could be gone forever.

Then I turned a corner and saw her sitting in a small public garden under a tree. She had a letter in one hand and a half-eaten pear in the other. Where had she come by a pear so late in the season?

I was halfway across the garden before I realized she was crying. I stopped where I stood, at a loss for what to do. I wanted to help, but I didn’t want to intrude. Maybe it would be best . . .

“Kvothe!”

Denna tossed away the remains of the pear, hopped to her feet, and ran across the lawn toward me. She was smiling, but her eyes were rimmed with red. She wiped at her cheeks with one hand.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

Her eyes welled up with new tears, but before they could fall she screwed her eyes shut and shook her head sharply. “No,” she said. “Not entirely.”

“Can I help?” I asked.

Denna blotted her eyes with her shirtsleeve. “You help just by being here.” She folded the letter into a small square and forced it into her pocket. Then she smiled again. It wasn’t a forced smile, the sort you wear like a mask. She smiled a true smile, lovely despite the tears.

Then she tilted her head to one side and gave me a closer look, her smile fading into a look of concern. “What about you?” she asked. “You look a little peaked.”

I gave a weak smile. Mine was forced and I knew it. “I’ve been having a rough time lately.”

“I hope you don’t feel as rough as you look,” she said gently. “Have you been getting enough sleep?”

“I haven’t,” I admitted.

Denna drew a breath to speak, then paused and bit her lip. “Is it anything you’d like to talk about?” she asked. “I don’t know if I could do anything to help, but . . .” She shrugged and shifted her weight slightly from one foot to another. “I don’t sleep well myself. I know what it’s like.”

Her offer of help caught me unprepared. It made me feel . . . I cannot say exactly how it made me feel. It doesn’t fit easily into words.

It wasn’t the offer of help itself. My friends had been working tirelessly to help me for days. But Sim’s willingness to help was different than this. His help was dependable as bread. But knowing Denna cared, that was like a swallow of warm wine on a winter night. I could feel the sweet heat of it in my chest.

I smiled at her. A real smile. The expression felt odd on my face and I wondered how long I’d been scowling without knowing it. “You’re helping just by being here,” I said honestly. “Just seeing you does wonders for my mood.”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course. The sight of my blotchy face is a panacea.”

“There isn’t much to talk about,” I said. “My bad luck got tangled up with my bad decisions, and I’m paying for it.”

Denna gave a chuckle that hovered on the edge of being a sob. “I wouldn’t know anything about that sort of thing,” she said, her lips making a wry twist. “It’s worst when it’s your own stupid fault, isn’t it?”

I felt my mouth curve to mimic hers. “It is,” I said. “Truth be told, I’d prefer a bit of a distraction to a sympathetic ear.”

“That I can provide,” she said, taking hold of my arm. “Lord knows you’ve done the same for me often enough in the past.”

I fell into step alongside her. “Have I?”

“Endlessly,” she said. “It’s easy to forget when you’re around.” She stopped walking for a moment and I had to stop too, as she’d linked her arm in mine. “That’s not right. I mean to say when you’re around, it’s easy to forget.”

“Forget what?”

“Everything,” she said, and for a moment her voice wasn’t quite as playful. “All the bad parts of my life. Who I am. It’s nice to be able to take a vacation from myself every once in a while. You help with that. You’re my safe harbor in an endless, stormy sea.”

I chuckled. “Am I?”

“You are,” she said easily. “You are my shady willow on a sunny day.”

“You,” I said, “are sweet music in a distant room.”

“That’s good,” she said. “You are unexpected cake on a rainy afternoon.”

“You’re the poultice that draws the poison from my heart,” I said.

“Hmm.” Denna looked uncertain. “I don’t know about that one. A heart full of poison isn’t an appealing thought.”

“Yeah,” I admitted. “That sounded better before I actually said it.”

“That’s what happens when you mix your metaphors,” she said. A pause. “Did you get my note?”

“I got it today,” I said, letting all my regret pour into my voice. “Just a couple hours ago.”

“Ah,” she said. “That’s too bad, it was a good dinner. I ate yours too.”

I tried to think of something to say, but she simply smiled and shook her head. “I’m teasing. The dinner was just an excuse, actually. I have something to show you. You’re a hard man to find. I thought I was going to have to wait until tomorrow when you sang at Anker’s.”

I felt a sharp pang in my chest, so strong even Denna’s presence couldn’t entirely overwhelm it. “It’s lucky you caught me today,” I said. “I’m not sure I’ll be playing tomorrow.”

She cocked her head at me. “You always sing on Felling night. Don’t change that. You’re hard enough for me to find.”

“You’re a fine one to talk,” I said. “I can never catch you in the same place twice.”

“Oh yes, I’m sure you’re always looking for me,” she said dismissively, then broke into an excited grin. “But that’s beside the point. Come on. I’m sure this will distract you.” She began to walk faster, tugging at my arm.

Her enthusiasm was infectious, and I found myself smiling as I followed her through the twisting streets of Imre.

Eventually we came to a small storefront. Denna stepped in front of me, almost bouncing with excitement. All signs of her weeping were gone and her eyes were bright. She put her cool hands over my face. “Close your eyes,” she said. “It’s a surprise!”

I closed my eyes, and she led me by the hand for a few steps. The inside of the shop was dim and smelled of leather. I heard a man’s voice say, “Is this him, then?” followed by the hollow sound of things moving around.

“Are you ready?” Denna said into my ear. I could hear the smile in her voice. Her breath tickled the hairs on the back of my neck.

“I have no idea,” I said honestly.

I felt the breath of her stifled laugh on my ear. “Okay. Open them.”

I opened my eyes and saw a lean older man standing behind a long wooden counter. An empty lute case lay open like a book in front of him. Denna had bought me a present. A case for my lute. A case for my stolen lute.

I took a step closer. The empty case was long and slender, covered in smooth black leather. There were no hinges. Seven bright steel clasps circled the edge so the top lifted off like the lid of a box.

The inside was soft velvet. I reached out to touch it and found the padding soft but resilient, like a sponge. The velvet’s nap was nearly half an inch thick and a deep burgundy color.

The man behind the counter gave a thin smile. “Your lady has good taste,” he said. “And a serious mind about what she desires.”

He lifted the lid. “The leather is oiled and waxed. There’s two layers with rock maple bows beneath.” He ran a finger along the bottom half of the case, then pointed at the corresponding groove on the lid. “It fits snugly enough that no air can get in or out. So you need not worry moving from a warm, wet room into an icy night.”

He began to snap shut the clasps around the edge of the case. “The lady objected to brass. So these are finesteel. And once they’re in place, the lid is held against a gasket. You could submerse it in a river and the velvet will stay dry inside.” He shrugged. “Eventually the water would permeate the leather, of course. But there’s only so much one can do.”

Flipping the case over, he rapped a knuckle hard on the rounded bottom. “I have kept the maple thin, so it is not bulky or heavy, and reinforced it with bands of Glantz steel.” He gestured to where Denna stood grinning. “The lady wanted Ramston steel, but I explained that while Ramston is strong, it’s also rather brittle. Glantz steel is lighter and retains its shape.”

He looked me up and down. “If the young master wishes, he could stand on the bowl of the case without crushing it.” His mouth pursed slightly and he looked down at my feet. “Though I would prefer if you did not.”

He turned the case right side up again. “I have to say, this is perhaps the finest case I have made in twenty years.” He slid it across the counter toward me. “I hope you find it to your satisfaction.”

I was driven speechless. A rarity. I reached out and ran a hand along the leather. It was warm and smooth. I touched the steel ring where the shoulder strap would attach. I looked at Denna, who was practically dancing with delight.

Denna stepped forward eagerly. “This is the best part,” she said, flipping open the clasps with such familiar ease I could tell she’d done it before. She pulled off the lid and prodded the inside with a finger. “The padding is designed to be moved and reset. So no matter what lute you have in the future, it will still fit.

“And look!” She pressed the velvet where the neck would rest, twisted her fingers, and a lid popped up, revealing a hidden space underneath. She grinned again. “This was my idea, too. It’s like a secret pocket.”

“God’s body, Denna,” I said. “This must have cost you a fortune.”

“Well, you know,” she said with an air of affected modesty. “I had a little set aside.”

I ran my hand along the inside, touching the velvet. “Denna, I’m serious. This case must be worth as much as my lute. . . .” I trailed off and my stomach made a nauseating twist. The lute I didn’t even have anymore.

“If you don’t mind my saying so, sir,” the man behind the counter said. “Unless you have a lute of solid silver, I’m guessing this case is worth a damn sight more than that.”

I ran my hands over the lid again, feeling increasingly sick to my stomach. I couldn’t think of a word to say. How could I tell her someone had stolen my lute after she’d gone through all the work of having this beautiful gift made for me?

Denna grinned excitedly. “Let’s see how your lute fits!”

She gestured, and the man behind the counter brought out my lute and set it in the case. It fit snugly as a glove.

I began to cry.

* * *

“God, I’m embarrassed,” I said, blowing my nose.

Denna touched my arm lightly. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated for the third time.

The two of us sat on the curb outside the small shop. It was bad enough bursting into tears in front of Denna. I’d wanted to compose myself without the shopkeeper staring at me too.

“I just wanted it to fit properly,” Denna said, her expression stricken. “I left a note. You were supposed to come to dinner so I could surprise you. You weren’t even supposed to know it was gone.”

“It’s okay,” I said.

“It’s obviously not,” Denna said, her eyes starting to brim with tears. “When you didn’t show up, I didn’t know what to do. I looked for you everywhere last night. I knocked on your door, but you didn’t answer.” She looked down at her feet. “I can never find you when I go looking.”

“Denna,” I said. “Everything’s fine.”

She shook her head vigorously, refusing to look at me as tears started to spill down her cheeks. “It’s not fine. I should have known. You hold it like it’s your baby. If anyone in my life had ever looked at me the way you look at that lute, I’d . . .”

Denna’s voice broke and she swallowed hard before words started pouring out of her again. “I knew it was the most important thing in your life. That’s why I wanted to get you somewhere safe to keep it. I just didn’t think it would be so . . .” She swallowed again, clenching her hands into fists. Her body was so tense she was almost trembling. “God. I’m so stupid! I never think. I always do this. I ruin everything.”

Denna’s hair had fallen around her face so I couldn’t see her expression. “What’s wrong with me?” she said, her voice low and angry. “Why am I such an idiot? Why can’t I do just one thing right in my whole life?”

“Denna.” I had to interrupt her, as she was barely pausing to breathe. I laid my hand on her arm and she grew stiff and still. “Denna, there’s no way you could have known,” I interrupted. “You’ve been playing for how long? A month? Have you ever even owned an instrument?”

She shook her head, her face still hidden by her hair. “I had that lyre,” she said softly. “But only for a few days before the fire.” She looked up at last, her expression pure misery. Her eyes and nose were red. “This happens all the time. I try to do something good, but it gets all tangled up.” She gave me a wretched look. “You don’t know what it’s like.”

I laughed. It felt amazingly good to laugh again. It boiled up from deep in my belly and burst out of my throat like notes from a golden horn. That laugh alone was worth three hot meals and twenty hours of sleep.

“I know exactly what it’s like,” I said, feeling the bruises on my knees and the pull of half-healed scars along my back. I considered telling her how much of a mess I’d made of retrieving her ring. Then decided it probably wouldn’t help her mood if I explained how Ambrose was trying to kill me. “Denna, I am the king of good ideas gone terribly wrong.”

She smiled at that, sniffing and rubbing at her eyes with a sleeve. “We’re a lovely couple of weepy idiots, aren’t we?”

“We are,” I said.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, her smile fading. “I just wanted to do something nice for you. But I’m no good at these things.”

I took hold of Denna’s hand in both of mine and kissed it. “Denna,” I said with perfect honesty, “this is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

She snorted indelicately.

“Pure truth,” I said. “You are my bright penny by the roadside. You are worth more than salt or the moon on a long night of walking.You are sweet wine in my mouth, a song in my throat, and laughter in my heart.”

Denna’s cheeks flushed, but I rolled on, unconcerned.

“You are too good for me,” I said. “You are a luxury I cannot afford. Despite this, I insist you come with me today. I will buy you dinner and spend hours waxing rhapsodic over the vast landscape of wonder that is you.”

I stood and pulled her to her feet. “I will play you music. I will sing you songs. For the rest of the afternoon, the rest of the world cannot touch us.” I cocked my head, making it a question.

Denna’s mouth curved. “That sounds nice,” she said. “I’d like to get away from the world for the space of an afternoon.”

* * *

Hours later I walked back to the University with a spring in my step. I whistled. I sang. My lute on my shoulder was light as a kiss. The sun was warm and soothing. The breeze was cool.

My luck was beginning to change.

Date: 2015-02-03; view: 723