CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

Flight

Though no family can boast a truly peaceful past, the Lacklesses have been especially ripe with misfortune. Some from without: assassination, invasion, peasant revolt, and theft. More telling is misfortune that comes from within: how can a family thrive when the eldest heir forsakes all family duty? Small wonder they are often called the “Luckless” by their detractors.

It seems a testament to the strength of their blood that they have survived so much for so long. Indeed, if not for the burning of Caluptena, we might possess records tracing the Lackless family back far enough for them to rival the royal line of Modeg in its antiquity. . . .

I tossed the book onto the table in a way that would have made Master Lorren spit blood. If the Maer thought this sort of information was enough to woo a woman, he was in worse need of my help than he thought.

But as things currently stood, I doubted the Maer would be asking me for any help with anything, least of all something as sensitive as his courting. Yesterday he hadn’t summoned me to his rooms at all.

I was clearly out of favor, and I sensed Stapes had a hand in it. Given what I had seen two nights ago in Caudicus’ tower, it was fairly obvious Stapes was part of the conspiracy to poison the Maer.

Though it meant spending all day trapped in my rooms, I stayed where I was. I knew better than to jeopardize Alveron’s already low opinion of me by approaching him without being summoned first.

An hour before lunch Viscount Guermen stopped by my rooms with a few pages of handwritten gossip. He also brought a deck of cards, apparently thinking to take a page from Bredon’s book. He offered to teach me how to play thrush, and, as I was just learning the game, agreed to play for the pittance of a single silver bit per hand.

He made the mistake of letting me deal, and left in a bit of huff after I won eighteen hands in a row. I suppose I could have been more subtle. I could have played him like a fish on a line and bilked him for half his estate, but I was in no mood for it. My thoughts were not pleasant, and I preferred to be alone with them.

* * *

An hour after lunch, I decided I was no longer interested in currying favor with the Maer. If Alveron wished to trust his treacherous manservant, that was his business. I’d be damned if I would spend one more minute sitting idle in my room, waiting by the door like a whipped dog.

I threw on my cloak, grabbed my lute case, and decided to take a walk down Tinnery Street. If the Maer needed me while I was away, he could damn well leave a note.

I was halfway into the hall when I saw the guard standing at attention outside my door. He was one of Alveron’s own, clad in sapphire and ivory.

We stood for a moment, motionless. There was no sense in asking if he was there on my account. Mine was the only door for twenty feet in any direction. I met his eye. “And you are?”

“Jayes, sir.”

At least I still rated a “sir.” That was worth something. “And you’re here because . . .?”

“I’m to accompany you if you leave your room. Sir.”

“Right.” I stepped back into my room and closed the door behind me.

Were his orders from Alveron or Stapes? It didn’t really matter.

I went out my window, into the garden, over the little streamlet, behind a hedgerow, and up a section of decorative stone wall. My burgundy cloak was not the best color for sneaking around in the garden, but it worked quite nicely against the red of the roofing tiles.

After that I made my way onto the roof of the stables, through a hayloft, and out the back door of a disused barn. From there it was just a matter of jumping a fence and I was off the Maer’s estate. Simple.

I stopped at twelve inns on Tinnery Street before I found the one where Denna was staying. She wasn’t there, so I continued along the street, keeping my eyes open and trusting to my luck.

I spotted her an hour later. She was standing at the edge of a crowd, watching a street corner a production of, believe it or not, Three Pennies for Wishing .

Her skin was darker than when I’d seen her last at the University, tanned from travel, and she wore a high-necked dress after the local fashion. Her dark hair fell in a straight sheaf across her back, all except a single slender braid that hung close to her face.

I caught her eye just as Deadnettle shouted out his first line in the play:

I’ve cures for what ails you!

My wares never fails you!

I’ve potions for pennies, results guaranteed!

So if you’ve got a dicky heart,

Or can’t get her legs apart,

Come straightaway to my cart,

You’ll find what you need!

Denna smiled when she saw me. We might have stayed for the play, but I already knew the ending.

* * *

Hours later, Denna and I were eating sweet Vintish grapes in the shadow of the Sheer. Some industrious stonemason had carved a shallow niche into the white stone of the cliff, making smooth seats of stone. It was a cozy place we had discovered while walking aimlessly through the city. We were alone, and I felt myself to be the luckiest man in the world.

My only regret was that I didn’t have her ring with me. It would have been the perfect unexpected gift to go with our unexpected meeting. Worse yet, I couldn’t even tell Denna about it. If I did, I’d be forced to admit I’d used it as collateral for my loan with Devi.

“You seem to be doing fairly well for yourself,” Denna said, rubbing the edge of my burgundy cloak between her fingers. “Have you given up the bookish life?”

“Taking a vacation,” I hedged. “Right now I’m assisting the Maer Alveron with a thing or two.”

Her eyes widened appreciatively. “Do tell.”

I looked away uncomfortably. “I’m afraid I can’t. Delicate matters and all that.” I cleared my throat and tried to change the subject. “What of you? You seem to be doing fairly well yourself.” I brushed two fingers across the embroidery that decorated the high neck of her dress.

“Well I’m not rubbing elbows with the Maer,” she said, making an exaggerated deferential gesture in my direction. “But as I mentioned in my letters, I—”

“Letters?” I asked. “You sent more than one?”

She nodded. “Three since I left,” she said. “I was about to start a fourth, but you’ve saved me the trouble.”

“I only got the one,” I said.

Denna shrugged. “I’d rather tell you in person, anyway.” She paused dramatically. “I finally have my formal patronage.”

“You have?” I said, delighted. “Denna, that’s wonderful news!”

Denna grinned proudly. Her teeth were white against the light nut color of her travel-tanned face. Her lips, as always, were red without the aid of any paint.

“Is he part of the court here in Severen?” I asked. “What’s his name?”

Denna’s grin faded into a serious look, a confused smile playing around her mouth. “You know I can’t tell you that,” she chided. “You know how closely he guards his privacy.”

My excitement fell away, leaving me cold. “Oh no. Denna. It’s not the same fellow as before, is it? The one who sent you to play for that wedding in Trebon?”

Denna looked puzzled. “Of course it is. I can’t tell you his real name. What was it you called him before? Master Elm?”

“Master Ash,” I said, and it felt like a mouthful of ashes when I said it. “Do you at least know his real name? Did he tell you that much before you signed up?”

“I expect I know his real name,” she shrugged, running a hand through her hair. When her fingers touched the braid she seemed surprised to find it there and quickly began to unravel it, her deft fingers smoothing it away. “Even if I don’t, what does it matter? Everyone has secrets, Kvothe. I don’t particularly care what his are so long as he continues to deal square with me. He’s been very generous.”

“He’s not just secretive, Denna,” I protested. “From the way you’ve described him, I’d say he’s either paranoid or tangled up in dangerous business.”

“I don’t know why you’re carrying such a grudge against him.”

I couldn’t believe she could say that. “Denna, he beat you senseless.”

She went very still. “No.” Her hand went to the fading bruise on her cheek. “No he didn’t. I told you. I fell while I was out riding. The stupid horse couldn’t tell a stick from a snake.”

I shook my head. “I’m talking about last fall in Trebon.”

Denna’s hand fell back to her lap where it made an absentminded fidgeting gesture, trying to toy with a ring that wasn’t there. She looked at me, her expression blank. “How did you know about that?”

“You told me yourself. That night on the hill, waiting for the draccus to come.”

She looked down, blinking. “I . . . I don’t remember saying that.”

“You were a little addled at the time,” I said gently. “But you did. You told me all about it. Denna, you shouldn’t have to stay with someone like that. Anyone who could do that to you . . .”

“He did it for my own good,” she said, her dark eyes beginning to flicker with anger. “Did I tell you that? There I was without a scratch on me and everyone else at the wedding dead as leather. You know what small towns are like. Even after they found me unconscious they thought I might have had something to do with it. You remember.”

I put my head down and shook it like an ox worrying its yoke. “I don’t believe it. There had to be another way around the situation. I would have found another way.”

“Well I guess we can’t all be as clever as you,” she said.

“Clever doesn’t have anything to do with it!” I came close to shouting. “He could have taken you away with him! He could have come forward and vouched for you!”

“He couldn’t let anyone know he was there,” Denna said. “He said—”

“He beat you.” And as I spoke the words I felt a terrible anger come together inside me. It wasn’t hot and furious, as some of my flashes of temper tend to be. This was different, slow and cold. And as soon as I felt it, I realized it had been there inside me for a long while, crystallizing, like a pond slowly freezing solid over a long winter night.

“He beat you,” I said again, and I could feel it inside, a solid block of icy anger. “Nothing you can say will change that. And if I ever see him, I’ll likely stick a knife in him rather than shake his hand.”

Denna looked up at me then, the irritation fading from her face. She gave me a look that was all sweet fondness and mingled pity. It was the sort of look you give a puppy when it growls, thinking itself terribly fierce. She put her hand gently on the side of my face, and I felt myself flush hot and hard, suddenly embarrassed by my own melodrama.

“Can we not argue about it?” she asked. “Please? Not today? It’s been so long since I’ve seen you. . . .”

I decided to let it go rather than risk driving her away. I knew what happened when men pressed her too hard. “Fair enough,” I said. “For today. Can you at least tell me what sort of thing your patron brought you out here for?”

Denna leaned back in her seat, smiling a wide smile. “Sorry, delicate matters and all that,” she mimicked.

“Don’t be that way,” I protested. “I’d tell you if I could, but the Maer values his privacy very highly.”

Denna leaned forward again to lay her hand over mine. “Poor Kvothe, it’s not out of spite. My patron is at least as private as the Maer. He made it very clear that things would go badly if I ever made our relationship public. He was quite emphatic about it.” Her expression had gone serious. “He’s a powerful man.” She seemed as if she would say more, then stopped herself.

Though I didn’t want to, I understood. My recent brush with the Maer’s anger had taught me caution. “What can you tell me about him?”

Denna tapped a finger against her lips thoughtfully. “He’s a surprisingly good dancer. I think I can say that without betraying anything. He’s quite graceful,” she said, then laughed at my expression. “I’m doing some research for him, looking into old genealogies and histories. He’s helping me write a couple songs so I can make a name for myself. . . .” She hesitated, then shook her head. “I think that’s all I can say.”

“Will I get to hear the songs after you’re done?”

She gave a shy smile. “I think that can be arranged.” She leapt to her feet and grabbed my arm to pull me to my feet. “Enough talking. Come and walk with me!”

I smiled, her enthusiasm as infectious as a child’s. But when she pulled at my hand, she let out a tiny yelp, flinching and pressing one of her hands to her side.

I was standing next to her in a second. “What’s the matter?”

Denna shrugged and gave me a brittle smile, holding her arm close to her ribs. “My fall,” she said. “That stupid horse. I get a twinge when I forget and move too quickly.”

“Has anyone looked at it?”

“It’s just a bruise,” she said. “And the sort of doctor I can afford, I wouldn’t trust to touch me.”

“What of your patron?” I asked. “Certainly he could arrange something.”

She slowly straightened. “It’s really not a problem.” She lifted her arms above her head and made a quick, clever dance step, then laughed at my serious expression. “No more talk of secret things for now. Come walk with me. Tell me dark and lurid gossip from the Maer’s court.”

“Very well,” I said as we began to walk. “I’ve heard the Maer is marvelously recovered from a long-standing illness.”

“You’re a poor rumormonger,” she said. “Everyone knows that.”

“The Baronet Bramston played a disastrous deck of faro last night.”

Denna rolled her eyes. “Boring.”

“The Comptess DeFerre lost her virginity while attending a performance of Daeonica .”

“Oh,” Denna raised her hand to her mouth, stifling a laugh. “Did she really?”

“She certainly didn’t have it with her after the intermission,” I said in a hushed voice. “But it turns out she had just left it behind in her rooms. So it was merely misplaced, not really lost. The servants found it two days later when they were cleaning up. Turns out, it had rolled underneath a chest of drawers.”

Denna’s expression turned indignant. “I can’t believe I believed you!” She swatted at me, then grimaced again, sucking a sharp breath through her teeth.

“You know,” I said softly. “I’ve been trained at the University. I’m not a physicker, but the medicine I know is good. I could take a look at it for you.”

She gave me a long look, as if she wasn’t quite sure what to make of my offer. “I think,” she said at last, “that might be the most circumspect route anyone has ever tried for getting me out of my clothes.”

“I . . .” I felt myself blush furiously. “I didn’t mean . . .”

Denna laughed at my discomfiture. “If I let anyone play doctor with me, it would be you, my Kvothe,” she said. “But I’ll tend to it for now.” She linked arms with me and we continued our walk down the street. “I know enough to take care of myself.”

* * *

I returned to the Maer’s estate hours later, taking the direct route rather than come in over the rooftops. When I arrived in the hallway leading to my room, I found two guards standing there instead of the single one that had been waiting before. I guessed they had discovered my escape.

Even this couldn’t dampen my spirits overmuch, as the time I’d spent with Denna had left me feeling twelve feet tall. Better yet, I was meeting with her tomorrow to go riding. Having a specific time and place to meet was an unexpected treat where Denna was concerned.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” I said as I came down the hall. “Anything interesting happen while I was out?”

“You’re to be confined to your rooms,” Jayes said grimly. I noticed he left off the “sir” this time.

I paused with my hand on the doorknob. “Beg pardon?”

“You’re to remain in your rooms until we get further orders,” he said. “And one of us is to stay with you at all times.”

I felt my temper flare up. “And does Alveron know about this?” I asked sharply.

They looked at each other uncertainly.

It was Stapes giving the orders then. That uncertainty would be enough to keep them from laying hands on me. “Let’s get this sorted out straightaway,” I said, and started down the hall at a brisk walk, leaving the guards to catch up with me, their armor clattering.

My temper fanned itself hotter as I made my way through the halls. If my credibility with the Maer was truly ruined, I preferred to have done with it now. If I couldn’t have the Maer’s good will, I would at least have my freedom and the ability to see Denna when I wished.

I turned the corner just in time to see the Maer emerging from his rooms. He looked as healthy as I had ever seen him, carrying a sheaf of papers under one arm.

As I approached, irritation flashed across his face and I thought he might simply have the guards carry me away. Nevertheless, I approached him as boldly as if I had a written invitation. “Your grace,” I said with cheery cordiality. “Might we talk for a moment?”

“Certainly,” he replied in a similar tone as he swung open the door he had been about to close behind himself. “Do come in.” I watched his eyes and saw an anger as hot as mine. A small, sensible part of me quailed, but my temper had the bit in its teeth and was galloping madly ahead.

We left the bemused guards in the antechamber, and Alveron led me through the second set of doors into his personal rooms. Silence hung dangerous in the air, like the calm before a sudden summer storm.

“I cannot believe your impudence,” the Maer hissed once the doors were closed. “Your wild accusations. Your ridiculous claims. I mislike public unpleasantness so we will deal with this later.” He made an imperious gesture. “Return to your rooms and do not leave until I decide how best to deal with you.”

“Your grace—”

I could tell by the set of his shoulders that he was ready to call the guards. “I do not hear you,” he said flatly.

He met my gaze then. His eyes were hard as flint and I saw how angry he truly was. This wasn’t the anger of a patron or employer. It wasn’t someone irritated by my failure to respect the social order. This was a man who had ruled everything around him from the age of sixteen. This man thought nothing of hanging someone from an iron gibbet to make a point. This was a man who, but for a twist of history, would now be king of all Vintas.

My temper sputtered and went out like a snuffed candle, leaving me chilled. I realized then that I had misjudged my situation badly.

When I was a child, homeless on the streets of Tarbean, I’d learned to deal with dangerous people: drunken dockworkers, guardsmen, even a homeless child with a bottle-glass knife can kill you.

The key to staying safe was knowing the rules of the situation. A guard wouldn’t beat you in the middle of the street. A dockworker wouldn’t chase you if you ran.

Now, with sudden clarity, I realized my mistake. The Maer was not bound by any rules. He could order me killed then hang my body over the city gates. He could throw me in jail and forget about me. He could leave me there while I grew starved and sickly. I had no position, no friends to intercede on my behalf. I was helpless as a child with a willow-switch sword.

I realized this in a flash and felt a gnawing fear settle in my belly. I should have stayed in Severen-Low while I had the chance. I never should have come here in the first place and meddled in the affairs of powerful folk such as this.

It was just then that Stapes bustled in from the Maer’s dressing room. Seeing us, his normally placid expression flickered briefly into panic and surprise. He recovered quickly. “I beg your pardon, sirs,” he said, and hurried back the way he came.

“Stapes,” the Maer called out before he could leave. “Come here.”

Stapes slunk back into the room. He wrung his hands nervously. His face had the stricken look of a guilty man, a man caught in the midst of something dishonest.

Alveron’s voice was stern. “Stapes, what do you have there?” Looking closer, I saw the manservant wasn’t wringing his hands, he was clutching something.

“It’s nothing—”

“Stapes!” the Maer barked. “How dare you lie to me! Show me at once!”

Numbly, the portly manservant opened his hands. A tiny gem-bright bird lay lifeless on his palm. His face had lost all hint of color.

Never in the history of the world has the death of a lovely thing brought such relief and joy. I had been certain of Stapes’ betrayal for days now, and here was the unquestionable proof of it.

Nevertheless, I kept quiet. The Maer had to see this with his own eyes.

“What is the meaning of this?” the Maer asked slowly.

“It’s not good to think of such things, sir,” the manservant said quickly, “and worse to dwell on them. I’ll just fetch another one. It’ll sing just as sweet.”

There was a long pause. I could see Alveron struggling to contain the rage he’d been ready to unleash on me. The silence continued to stretch.

“Stapes,” I said slowly. “How many birds have you replaced these last few days?”

Stapes turned to me, his expression indignant.

Before he could speak, the Maer broke in. “Answer him, Stapes.” His voice sounded almost choked. “Has there been more than this one?”

Stapes gave the Maer a stricken look. “Oh Rand, I didn’t want to trouble you. You were so bad for a time. Then you asked for the birds and had that terrible night. Then the next day one of them died.”

Looking down at the tiny bird in his hand, his words came faster and faster, almost tumbling over each other. Too clumsy to be anything but sincere. “I didn’t want to fill your head with talk of dying things. So I snuck it out and brought a new one in. Then you kept getting better and they started falling four or five a day. Every time I looked there would be another one lying in the bottom of the cage like a little cut flower. But you were doing so well. I didn’t want to mention it.”

Stapes covered the dead sipquick with a cupped hand. “It’s like they were giving up their little souls to make you well again.” Something inside the man suddenly gave way, and he began to cry. The deep, hopeless sobs of an honest man who has been frightened and helpless for a long time, watching the slow death of a well-loved friend.

Alveron stood motionless for a stunned moment, all the anger spilling out of him. Then he moved to put his arms gently around his manservant. “Oh Stapes,” he said softly. “They were, in a way. You haven’t done anything you can be blamed for.”

I quietly left the room and busied myself removing the feeders from the gilded cage.

* * *

An hour later the three of us were eating a quiet supper together in the Maer’s rooms. Alveron and I told Stapes what had been happening over the last several days. Stapes was almost giddy, both at his master’s health and at the knowledge it would continue to improve.

As for myself, after suffering a few days under Alveron’s displeasure, being so suddenly in his good graces again was a relief. Nevertheless, I was shaken by how close to disaster I had been.

I was honest with the Maer about my misguided suspicion of Stapes, and I offered the manservant my sincere apology. Stapes in turn admitted his doubts about me. In the end we shook hands and thought much better of each other.

As we were chatting over the last bites of supper Stapes perked up, excused himself, and hurried out.

“My outer door,” the Maer explained. “He has ears like a dog. It’s uncanny.”

Stapes opened the door to admit the tall man with the shaven head who had been looking over maps with Alveron when I’d first arrived, Commander Dagon.

As Dagon stepped into the room his eyes flicked to each of the corners, to the window, to the other door, briefly over me, then back to the Maer. When his eyes touched me, all the deep feral instincts that had kept me alive on the streets of Tarbean told me to run. Hide. Do anything so long as it took me far away from this man.

“Ah, Dagon!” the Maer said cheerily. “Are you well this fine day?”

“Yes, your grace.” He stood attentively, not quite meeting the Maer’s eye.

“Would you be good enough to arrest Caudicus for treason?”

There was a half-heartbeat pause. “Yes, your grace.”

“Eight men should be sufficient, providing they’re not likely to panic in a complicated situation.”

“Yes, your grace.” I began to sense subtle differences in Dagon’s responses.

“Alive,” Alveron responded, as if answering a question. “But you needn’t be gentle.”

“Yes, your grace.” With that, Dagon turned to leave.

I spoke up quickly. “Your grace, if he’s truly an arcanist you ought to take certain precautions.” I regretted the word “ought” as soon as I had said it, “ought” was presumptuous. I should have said, You may wish to consider taking certain precautions .

Alveron seemed to take no notice of my misstep. “Yes, of course. Set a thief to catch a thief. Dagon, before you settle him downstairs, bind him hand and foot with good iron chain. Pure iron, mind you. Gag and blindfold him. . . .” He thought for a brief moment, tapping his lips with a finger “And cut off his thumbs.”

“Yes, your grace.”

Alveron looked at me. “Do you think that should be sufficient?”

I fought down a wave of nausea and forced myself not to wring my hands in my lap. I didn’t know which I found more unsettling, the cheerful tone with which Alveron delivered the commands, or the flat emotionless one with which Dagon accepted them. A full arcanist was nothing to trifle with, but I found the thought of crippling the man’s hands more horrifying than killing him outright.

Dagon left, and after the door closed Stapes shuddered. “Good lord, Rand, he’s like cold water down the back of my neck. I wish you’d get rid of him.”

The Maer laughed. “So someone else could have him? No, Stapes. I want him right here. My mad dog on a short leash.”

Stapes frowned. But before he could make anything more of it, his eyes were drawn through the doorway into the sitting room. “Oh, there’s another one.” He walked to the cage and returned with another dead flit, holding its tiny body tenderly as he carried it out of the chambers. “I know you needed to test the medicine on something,” he said from the other room. “But it’s a little rough on the poor little calanthis.”

“Beg pardon?” I asked.

“Our Stapes is old-fashioned,” Alveron explained with a smile. “And more educated than he cares to admit. Calanthis is the Eld Vintic name for them.”

“I could swear I’ve heard that word somewhere else.”

“It’s also the surname of the royal line of Vintas,” Alveron said chidingly. “For someone who knows so much, you’re curiously blind in places.”

Stapes craned his neck to look toward the cage again. “I know you had to do it,” he said, “But why not use mice, or Comptess DeFerre’s nasty little dog?”

Before I could answer, there was a thump from the outer rooms and a guard burst through the inner door before Stapes could come to his feet.

“Your grace,” the man said breathlessly as he jumped to the room’s only window and slammed the shutters. Next he ran to the sitting room and did the same with the window in there. There followed other, similar noises from rooms farther back I had never seen. There was a faint sound of furniture being moved.

Stapes looked puzzled and half rose to his feet, but the Maer shook his head and motioned for him to sit down. “Lieutenant?” he called out, a tinge of irritation in his voice.

“Beg pardon, your grace,” the guard said as he reentered the room, breathing heavily. “Dagon’s orders. I was to secure your rooms straightaway.”

“I take it all is not well,” Alveron said dryly.

“There was no answer from the tower when we knocked. Dagon had us force the door. There was . . . I know not what it was, your grace. Some malignant spirit. Anders is dead, your grace. Caudicus is nowhere in his rooms, but Dagon is after him.”

Alveron’s expression darkened. “Damn!” he thundered, striking the arm of his chair with a fist. His brow furrowed and he let out an explosive sigh. “Very well.” He waved the guard away.

The guard stood stiffly. “Sir. Dagon said I’m not to leave you unguarded.”

Alveron gave him a dangerous look. “Very well, but stand over there.” He pointed to the corner of the room.

The guard appeared perfectly happy to fade into the background. Alveron leaned forward, pressing the tips of his fingers to his forehead. “How in the name of God did he suspect?”

The question seemed rhetorical, but it set the wheels of my mind spinning. “Did your grace pick up his medicine yesterday?”

“Yes, yes. I did everything the same as I had done in days past.”

Except you didn’t send me to get your medicine , I thought to myself. “Do you still have the vial?” I asked.

He did. Stapes brought it to me. I uncorked it and ran a finger along the inside of the glass. “How does your grace’s medicine taste?”

“I’ve told you. Brackish, bitter.” I watched the Maer’s eyes go wide as I brought my finger to my mouth and touched it lightly to the tip of my tongue. “Are you mad?” Alveron said incredulously.

“Sweet,” I said simply. Then I rinsed my mouth with water and spat it as delicately as possible into an empty glass. I took a small folded packet of paper from a pocket in my vest, shook a small amount into my hand and ate it, grimacing.

“What’s that?” Stapes asked.

“Liguellen,” I lied, knowing the real answer, charcoal, would only provoke more questions. I took a mouthful of water and spat it out as well. This time it was black, and Alveron and Stapes stared at it, startled.

I bulled ahead. “Something must have made him suspect you were not taking your medicine, your grace. If it suddenly tasted different, you would have asked him.”

The Maer nodded. “I saw him yesterday evening. He asked after my health.” He beat his fist softly onto the arm of his chair. “All the cursed luck. If he has any wit, he’s been gone half a day. We’ll never catch him.”

I thought about reminding him that if he had believed me from the first, none of this would have happened, then thought better of it. “I’d advise your men to stay out of his tower, your grace. He’s had time to prepare a great deal of mischief in there, traps and the like.”

The Maer nodded and passed his hand in front of his eyes. “Yes. Of course. See to it, Stapes. I believe I’ll take a bit of rest. This business may take a while to sort out.”

I gathered myself to leave. But the Maer gestured me back into my seat. “Kvothe, stay a moment and make me a pot of tea before you go.”

Stapes rang for servants. While clearing the remains of our lunch away, they glanced at me curiously. Not only sitting in the Maer’s presence, I was sharing a meal with him in his private chambers. This news would be rumored through the estate in under ten minutes.

After the servants left, I made the Maer another pot of tea. I was preparing to leave when he spoke over the top of his cup, too softly for the guard to overhear.

“Kvothe, you have proved perfectly trustworthy and I regret any doubts I briefly entertained about you.” He sipped and swallowed before continuing. “Unfortunately, I cannot allow news of a poisoning to spread. Especially with the poisoner escaped.” He gave me a significant look. “It would interfere with the matter we discussed before.”

I nodded. Widespread knowledge that his own arcanist had nearly killed him would hardly help Alveron win the hand of the woman he hoped to marry.

He continued. “Unfortunately this need for silence also precludes my giving you a reward you all too richly deserve. Were the situation different, I would consider the gift of lands mere token thanks. I would grant you title too. This power my family still retains, free from the controlment of the king.”

My head reeled at the implication of what the Maer was saying as he continued. “However, if I were to do such a thing, there would be need of explanation. And an explanation is the one thing I cannot afford.”

Alveron extended his hand, and it took me a moment to realize he intended me to shake it. One does not typically shake hands with the Maer Alveron. I immediately regretted that the only person present to see it was the guard. I hoped he was a gossip.

I took his hand solemnly, and Alveron continued, “I owe you a great debt. If you ever find yourself in need, you shall have at your command all the help a grateful lord can lend.”

I nodded graciously, trying to keep a calm demeanor despite my excitement. This was exactly what I had been hoping for. With the Maer’s resources, I could make a concerted search for the Amyr. He could get me access to monastery archives, private libraries, places where important documents hadn’t been pruned and edited as they had in the University.

But I knew this wasn’t the proper time to ask. Alveron had promised his help. I could simply bide my time and choose what type of help I wanted most.

As I stepped outside the Maer’s rooms, Stapes surprised me with a sudden, wordless embrace. The expression on his face couldn’t have been more grateful if I’d pulled his family from a burning building. “Young sir, I doubt you understand how much I’m in your debt. If there’s anything you ever need, just make me wise of it.”

He gripped my hand, pumping it up and down enthusiastically. At the same time I felt him press something into my palm.

Then I was standing in the hallway. I opened my hand and saw a fine silver ring with Stapes’ name etched across the face. Alongside it was a second ring that wasn’t metal at all. It was smooth and white, and also had the manservant’s name carved in rough letters across the surface of it. I had no idea what such a thing might signify.

I made my way back to my rooms, almost dizzy with my sudden fortune.

Date: 2015-02-03; view: 826