The Narrow Road Between Desires (The Kingkiller Chronicle, #2.6)

by Patrick Rothfuss

He leaned forward and Kostrel unconsciously did the same. “Some have a tender love for nature’s wild. Some are drawn to mortal hearth and home. Some find a secret place and stay, while others cannot help but roam.” Bast felt excitement rising in his chest, the rare bubbling delight that came from letting loose a hard-held secret that someone desperately desired. It was like candy, brandy, and a kiss together. “But something that appeals to all the fae are places with connections to the raw, true things that shape the world. Places that are touched with fire and water. Places that are close to air and stone. When all four come together….” Bast’s hands met between them, fingers interlacing. Kostrel’s face had lost all trace of its sharp cunning. He looked like a child again, mouth agape, his eyes wide and deep and soft with wonder. Watching him, Bast felt joy like a needle strike clean through the center of his heart. Bast made an art of artifice, and he was justified in pride at all his clever craft. But this boy sat here being nothing but himself. His heart a harp that played no tune except his pure desire. It made Bast want to weep and howl. It made Bast wonder where he’d lost his way.

But…Bast liked this boy. He wasn’t dull, or easy. He wasn’t mean or low. He was foolish, fast, and hungry. Bast labored ages learning how to be a lamp, while this sweet child simply sat and shone like summer sun. The witty willful little tit was bright as broken glass and sharp enough to cut himself. And Bast too, apparently.

“Can I give it to my mum?” Rike interrupted again, looking up at Bast. His dark eyes serious. “— want to protect its terr…What?” Bast stumbled to a halt. “My mum should have it,” Rike said with sudden certainty. “What if I was off away with the charm and my da came back?” “He’s going farther away than that,” Bast said, his voice heavy with certainty. “It’s not like he’ll be hiding around the corner at the smithy….” Rike’s face was set now, his pug nose making him seem all the more stubborn. He shook his head. “My ma should have it. She’s important. She has to take care of Tess and little Bip.” Bast waved a hand. “It will work just fi—” “It’s got to be for HER!” Rike shouted, suddenly furious, his hand making a fist around the stone. “You said it was for one person, so you make it be for her!” Bast scowled at the boy. “I don’t like your tone,” he said grimly. “You asked me to make your da go away, and that’s what I’m doing….” “But what if it’s not enough?” Rike’s voice was quieter, but his face was red. “It will be,” Bast said. He absentmindedly rubbed a thumb across the torn knuckles of his hand. “He’ll go far away, and soon. You have my word—” “NO!” Rike said, his face going red and angry. “What if sending him en’t enough? What if I grow up like my da? I get so…” His voice choked off, and his eyes started to leak tears. “I’m not good. I know it. I know better than anyone. Like you said. I got his blood in me. She needs to be safe. From me. If I grow up all twisted, she ne...

It was baffling. These creatures, fraught and frayed in their desire. A snake would never poison itself, but these folk made an art of it. They wrapped themselves in fears and wept at being blind. It was infuriating. It was enough to break a heart.

Bast laughed again. He knew he shouldn’t, but there were times when it was either laugh or break wide open because he was too full. It would have been like holding back a sneeze. Sometimes the world was so perfectly revealed to be a joke, a picture, and a puzzle all at once. Laughter was the true applause you offered to the world for being beautiful.