Just Rewards

I WAS IN THE MIDDLE of dressing the following morning when an errand boy arrived bearing a thick envelope with Alveron’s seal. I took a seat by the window and discovered several letters inside. The outermost one read:

Kvothe,

I have thought a while and decided your blood matters but little in light of the services you have rendered me.

However, my soul is bound to another whose comfort I hold more dearly than my own. Though I had hoped to retain your services, I cannot. What’s more, as your presence is the cause of my wife’s considerable distress, I must ask you to return my ring and leave Severen at your earliest convenience.

I stopped reading, got to my feet, and opened the door to my rooms. A pair of Alveron’s guards were standing at attention in the hallway.

“Sir?” one of them said, eyeing my half-dressed state.

“Just checking,” I said, closing the door.

I returned to my seat and picked up the letter again.

As to the matter that precipitated this unfortunate circumstance, I believe you have acted in the best interest of myself and Vintas as a whole. In fact, I have received report just this morning that two girls were returned to their families in Levinshir by a red-haired “gentleman” named Kvothe.

As reward for your many services I offer the following:

First, a full pardon for those you killed near Levinshir.

Second, a letter of credit enabling you to draw on my coffers for the payment of your tuition at the University.

Third, a writ granting you the right to travel, play, and perform wherever you will within my lands.

Lastly, my thanks.

Maershon Lerand Alveron

I sat for a few long minutes, watching the birds flit in the garden outside my window. The contents of the envelope were just as Alveron had said. The letter of credit was a work of art, signed and sealed in four places by Alveron and his chief exchequer.

The writ was, if anything, even more lovely. It was drawn on a thick sheet of creamy vellum, signed by the Maer’s own hand and fixed with both his family’s seal and that of Alveron himself.

But it was not a writ of patronage. I read through it carefully. By omission it made it clear that neither was I in the Maer’s service, nor were we bound to each other. Still, it granted free travel and the right to perform under his name. It was an odd compromise of a document.

I’d just finished dressing when there came another knock on the door. I sighed, half expecting more guards coming to roust me out of my rooms.

But opening the door revealed another runner boy. He carried a silver tray bearing another letter. This one had the Lackless seal upon the top. Beside it lay a ring. I picked it up and turned it over in my hands, puzzled. It wasn’t iron, as I’d expected, but pale wood. Meluan’s name was burned crudely into the side of it.

I noticed the runner boy’s wide eyes darting back and forth between the ring and myself. More importantly, I noticed the guards were not staring at it. Pointedly not staring. The sort of not-staring you only engage in when something very interesting has come to your attention.

I handed the boy my silver ring. “Take this to Bredon,” I said. “And don’t dawdle.”

* * *

Bredon was looking up at the guards as I opened the door. “Keep up the good work, my boys,” he said, playfully tapping one of them on the chest with his walking stick. The silver wolf’ s head chimed lightly against the guard’s breastplate, and Bredon smiled like a jolly uncle. “We all feel safer for your vigilance.”

He closed the door behind himself and raised an eyebrow at me. “Lord’s mercy boy, you’re up the ladder by leaps and bounds. I knew you sat solid in the Maer’s good grace, but to have him assign you two of his personal guard?” He pressed his hand to his heart and sighed dramatically. “Soon you will be too busy for the likes of poor old useless Bredon.”

I gave him a weak smile. “I think it’s more complicated than that.” I held up the wooden ring for him to see. “I need you to tell me what this means.”

Bredon’s jovial cheer evaporated more quickly than if I’d pulled out a bloody knife. “Lord and lady,” he said. “Tell me you got that from some oldfashioned farmer.”

I shook my head and handed it to him.

He turned the ring over in his hands. “Meluan?” he asked quietly. Handing it back, he sank into a nearby chair, his walking stick across his knees. His face had gone slightly grey. “The Maer’s new lady wife sent you this? As a summons?”

“It’s about as far from a summons as anything can be,” I said. “She sent a charming letter, too.” I held it up with my other hand.

Bredon held out his hand. “Can I see it?” he asked, then drew his hand back quickly. “I’m sorry. That’s terribly rude of me to ask—”

“You could do me no greater favor than reading it,” I said, pressing it into his hands. “I am in desperate need of your opinion.”

Bredon took the letter and began to read, his lips moving slightly. His expression grew paler as he made his way down the page.

“The lady has a gift for well-turned phrase,” I said.

“That cannot be denied,” he said. “She might as well have written this in blood.”

“I think she would have liked to,” I said. “But she would have had to kill herself to fill the second page.” I held it out to him.

Bredon took it and continued to read, his face growing even paler. “Gods all around us,” he said. “Is ‘excrescence’ even a word?” he asked.

“It is,” I said.

Bredon finished the second page, then went back to the beginning and slowly read it through a second time. Finally he looked up at me. “If there were a woman,” he said, “who loved me with one-tenth the passion this lady feels for you, I would count myself the luckiest of men.”

“What does this mean?” I asked, holding up the ring. I could smell smoke on it. She must have burned her name into it just this morning.

“From a farmer?” he shrugged. “Many things, depending on the wood. But here? From one of the nobility?” He shook his head, obviously at a loss for words.

“I thought there were only three types of courtly rings,” I said.

“Only three a person would use,” he said. “Only three that are sent and displayed. It used to be you sent wooden rings to summon servants. Those too low for iron. But that was a long while back. Eventually it became a terrible snub to send someone in the court a wooden ring.”

“A snub I can live with,” I said, relieved. “I’ve been snubbed by better folk than her.”

“That was a hundred years ago,” Bredon said. “Things have changed. The problem was, once the wooden rings were seen as a snub, some servants would be offended by them. You don’t want to offend the master of your stables, so you don’t send him a wooden ring. But if he doesn’t get a wooden ring, then your tailor might be offended by one.”

I nodded my understanding. “And so on. Eventually anyone was offended by a wooden ring.”

Bredon nodded. “A wise man is careful to stay on the good side of his servants,” he said. “Even the boy that brings your dinner can carry a grudge, and there are a thousand invisible revenges available to the lowest of them. Wooden rings aren’t used at all anymore. They probably would have fallen out of memory entirely if they weren’t used as a plot device in a handful of plays.”

I looked at the ring. “So I’m lower than the boy who collects the slops.”

Bredon cleared his throat self-consciously. “More than that, actually.” He pointed. “That means to her, you aren’t even a person. You aren’t worth recognizing as a human being.”

“Ah,” I said. “I see.”

I slid the wooden ring onto my finger and made a fist. It was quite a good fit, actually.

“It’s not the sort of ring you wear,” Bredon said uncomfortably. “It’s quite the other sort of ring, actually.” He gave me a curious look. “I don’t suppose you still have Alveron’s ring?”

“He’s asked for it back, actually.” I picked the Maer’s letter off the table and handed it to Bredon as well.

“At your earliest convenience,” Bredon quoted with a dry chuckle. “That says quite a bit more than it seems.” He set the letter down. “Still, it’s probably better this way. If he left you with his favor you’d be a battleground for them: a peppercorn between her mortar and his pestle. They would crush you with their bickering.”

His eyes flickered back to the wooden ring on my hand. “I don’t suppose she gave it to you personally?” he asked hopefully.

“She sent it with a runner.” I let out a low sigh. “The guards saw it too.”

There was a knock on the door. I answered it, and a runner boy handed me a letter.

I closed the door and looked at the seal. “Lord Praevek,” I said.

Bredon shook his head. “I swear that man spends every waking moment with his ear against a keyhole or his tongue up someone’s ass.”

Chuckling, I cracked the letter open and scanned it quickly. “He’s asking for his ring back,” I said. “It’s smudged too, he didn’t even wait for the ink to dry.”

Bredon nodded. “Word is undoubtedly spreading. It wouldn’t be so bad if she wasn’t sitting strong at Alveron’s right hand. But she is, and she’s made her opinion clear. Anyone who treats you better than a dog will doubtless share the scorn she feels for you.” He fluttered her letter. “And scorn such as this, there’s plenty to go around without worry of it spreading thin.”

Bredon gestured to the bowl of rings and gave a dry, mirthless chuckle. “Just when you were getting some silver, too.”

I walked over to the bowl, dug out his ring, and held it out to him. “You should take this back,” I said.

Bredon’s expression looked pained, but he made no move to take the ring.

“I’m going to be leaving soon,” I said. “And I’d hate for you to be tarnished by your contact with me. There’s no way I can thank you for the help you’ve given me. The least I can do is help minimize the damage to your reputation.”

Bredon hesitated, then closed his eyes and sighed. He took the ring with a defeated shrug.

“Oh,” I said, suddenly remembering something else. I went to the stack of slanderous stories and pulled out the pages that described his pagan frolics. “You might find this amusing,” I said as I handed it to him. “Now you should probably go. Simply being here can’t be good for you.”

Bredon sighed and nodded. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out better for you, my boy. If you’re ever back in these parts don’t hesitate to call on me. These things do blow over eventually.” His eyes kept drifting back to the wooden ring on my finger. “You really shouldn’t keep wearing that.”

After he was gone, I fished Stapes’ gold ring out of the bowl and Alveron’s iron one as well. Then I stepped out into the hallway.

“I’m going to pay a call on Stapes,” I said politely to the guards. “Would the two of you care to accompany me?”

The taller one glanced at the ring on my finger, then looked at his companion before murmuring an agreement. I turned on my heel and set off, my escort keeping pace behind me.

* * *

Stapes ushered me inside his sitting room and closed the door behind me. His rooms were even finer than my own and considerably more lived in. I also saw a large bowl of rings on a nearby table. All of them were gold. The only iron ring in sight was Alveron’s, and that was on his finger.

He might look like a grocer, but Stapes had a sharp set of eyes. He spotted the ring on my finger straightaway. “She did it then,” he said, shaking his head. “You really shouldn’t wear it.”

“I’m not ashamed of what I am,” I said. “If this is the ring of an Edema Ruh, I’ll wear it.”

Stapes sighed. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“I know,” I said.“I didn’t come here to make your life difficult. Could you return this to the Maer for me?” I handed him Alveron’s ring.

Stapes put it in his pocket.

“I also wanted to return these.” I handed him the two rings he had given me. One bright gold, one white bone. “I don’t want to make trouble between you and your master’s new wife.”

Stapes nodded, holding up the gold ring. “It would make trouble if you kept it,” he said. “I am in the Maer’s service. As such, I need to be mindful of the games of the court.”

Then he reached out and took my hand, pressing the bone ring back into it. “But this lies outside my duty to the Maer. It is a debt between two men. The games of the court have no sway over such things.” Stapes met my eye. “And I insist you keep it.”

* * *

I ate a late supper alone in my rooms. The guards were still waiting patiently outside as I read the Maer’s letter for the fifth time. Each time I hoped to find some clement sentiment hidden in his phrasing. But it simply wasn’t there.

On the table sat the various papers the Maer had sent. I emptied my purse beside them. I had two gold royals, four silver nobles, eight and a half pennies, and, inexplicably, a single Modegan strelum, though I couldn’t for the life of me remember where I’d come by it.

Altogether they equaled slightly less than eight talents. I stacked them next to Alveron’s papers. Eight talents, a pardon, a player’s writ, and my tuition paid at the University. It was not an inconsiderable reward.

Still, I couldn’t help but feel rather shorted. I had saved Alveron from a poisoning, uncovered a traitor in his court, won him a wife, and rid his roads of more dangerous folk than I cared to count.

Despite all that, I was still left without a patron. Worse, his letter had made no mention of the Amyr, no mention of the support he had promised to lend me in my search for them.

But there was nothing to be gained by making a fuss, and much that I could lose. I refilled my purse and tucked Alveron’s letters into the secret compartment in my lute case.

I also nicked three books I’d brought from Caudicus’ library, since no one knew I had them, and tipped the bowlful of rings into a small sack. The wardrobe held two dozen finely tailored outfits. They were worth a heavy penny, but weren’t very portable. I took two of the nicer outfits and left the rest hanging.

Lastly I belted on Caesura and worked my shaed into a long cape. Those two items reassured me that my time in Vintas had not been entirely wasted, though I’d earned them on my own, not through any help of Alveron’s.

I locked the door, snuffed the lamps, and climbed out a window into the garden. Then I used a piece of bent wire to lock the window and close the shutters behind me.

Petty mischief? Perhaps, but I’d be damned if I’d be escorted from the estates by the Maer’s guard. Besides, the thought of them puzzling over my escape made me chuckle, and laughter is good for the digestion.

* * *

I made my way out of the estates without anyone seeing me. My shaed was well suited to sneaking about in the dark. After an hour of searching I found a greasy bookbinder in Severen-Low.

He was an unsavory fellow with the morals of a feral dog, but he was interested in the stack of slanderous stories the nobility had been sending to my rooms. He offered me four reels for the lot of them, plus the promise of ten pennies for every volume of the book he sold after they were printed. I bargained him up to six reels and six pennies per copy and we shook hands. I left his shop, burned the contract, and washed my hands twice. I did keep the money, however.

After that I sold both suits of fine clothing and all of Caudicus’ books except for one. With the money I’d accumulated, I spent the next several hours on the docks and found a ship leaving the next day for Junpui.

As night settled onto the city, I wandered the high parts of Severen, hoping I might run into Denna. I didn’t, of course. I could tell she was long gone. A city feels different when Denna is somewhere inside it, and Severen felt as hollow as an empty egg.

At the end of several hours of fruitless searching, I stopped by a dockside brothel and spent some time drinking in the taproom. It was a slow night, and the ladies were bored. So I bought drinks for everyone, and we talked. I told a few stories and they listened. I played a few songs and they applauded. Then I asked a favor, and they laughed and laughed and laughed.

So I poured the sackful of rings into a bowl and left them on the bar. Soon the ladies were trying them on and arguing over who would get the silver ones. I bought another round of drinks and left, my mood somewhat improved.

I wandered aimlessly after that, eventually finding a small public garden near the lip of the Sheer looking out over Severen-Low. The lamps below were burning orange, while here or there a gaslight or sympathy lamp flickered greenish blue and crimson. It was as breathtaking as the first time I had seen it.

I had been watching for some time before I realized I wasn’t alone. An older man leaned against a tree several feet away, looking down at the lights much as I had been. A faint and not unpleasant aroma of beer wafted from him.

“She’s a pretty thing, innit she?” he said, his accent marking him as a dockworker.

I agreed. We watched the twinkling fires silently for a time. I unscrewed the wooden ring from my finger and considered throwing it off the cliff. Now that someone was watching, I couldn’t help but feel the gesture was somewhat childish.

“They say a nobleman can piss on half o’ Severen from up here,” the dockman said conversationally.

I tucked the ring into a pocket of my shaed. A memento then. “Those are the lazy ones,” I replied. “The ones I’ve met can piss a lot farther than that.”

Date: 2015-02-03; view: 817