The Name of the Wind (The Kingkiller Chronicle, #1)

by Patrick Rothfuss

I had heard that this is where pride pays silver and plays golden.”

Illien’s fire.”

“I hope this place is as good as everyone seems to think it is,” I said earnestly. “I need a place to burn.”

I was pleased to find the skill of the talented musicians to be everything it was rumored to be. But my anxiety increased a proportionate amount. Excellence is excellence’s only companion.

As soon as my foot touched the stage the room hushed to a murmur. At the same time, my nervousness left me, burned away by the attention of the crowd. It has always been that way with me. Offstage I worry and sweat. Onstage I am calm as a windless winter night.

My audience. I smiled at them. The smile drew them closer still, and I sang.

sang in the proud powerful tones of Savien Traliard, greatest of the Amyr.

Without knowing what I did, I set my fingers back to the strings and fell deep into myself. Into years before, when my hands had calluses like stones and my music had come as easy as breathing. Back to the time I had played to make the sound of Wind Turning a Leaf on a lute with six strings.

Raising my head to look at the room was like breaking the surface of the water for air.

Then the ending of the song struck me like a fist in my chest, as it always does, no matter where or when I listen to it. I buried my face in my hands and wept. Not for a broken lute string and the chance of failure. Not for blood shed and a wounded hand. I did not even cry for the boy who had learned to play a lute with six strings in the forest years ago. I cried for Sir Savien and Aloine, for love lost and found and lost again, at cruel fate and man’s folly. And so, for a while, I was lost in grief and knew nothing.

Sounds a lot like Lyra and Lanre!

Then, waiting, I heard the silence pouring from them. The audience held themselves quiet, tense, and tight, as if the song had burned them worse than flame. Each person held their wounded selves closely, clutching their pain as if it were a precious thing.

Then there was a murmur of sobs released and sobs escaping. A sigh of tears. A whisper of bodies slowly becoming no longer still. Then the applause. A roar like leaping flame, like thunder after lightning.

“You’ll have to promise me,” a red-eyed Simmon said seriously, “that you will never play that song again without warning me first. Ever.”

“No!” Simmon almost cried out. “It’s . . . I’ve never—” He struggled, wordless for a moment, then bowed his head and began to cry hopelessly into his hands. Wilem put a protective arm around Simmon, who leaned unashamedly against his shoulder. “Our Simmon has a tender heart,” he said gently. “I imagine he meant to say that he liked it very much.” I noticed that Wilem’s eyes were red around the edges too.

“And Aloine,” Simmon added, and began to cry softly into the crook of his arm.

There’s a brave boy. Too brave. He doesn’t know he can’t save the end of a broken song with a broken lute.

Threpe chuckled and closed my hand around the coins. “It’s not a reward for playing. Well, it is that, but it’s more an incentive for you to keep practicing, keep getting better. It’s for the sake of the music.” He shrugged. “You see, a laurel needs rain to grow. I can’t do much about that. But I can keep that rain off a few musician’s heads, can’t I?” A sly smile wound its way onto his face. “So God will tend the laurels and keep them wet. And I will tend the players and keep them dry. And wiser minds than mine will decide when to bring the two together.” I was silent for a moment. “I think you might be wiser than you give yourself credit for.”

“Now, I must go find my Aloine and offer her my earnest thanks. How do I look?” “What does it matter?” Wilem asked. Simmon touched Wilem’s elbow. “Don’t you see? He’s after more dangerous game than some low-bodiced councilman’s daughter.” I turned from them with a disgusted gesture and headed off into the crowded room.

But as I thought these things, the wiser part of me was whispering in my other ear. Do not hope, it said. Do not dare hold hope that any woman could burn as brightly as the voice that sang the part of Aloine.

“I’ve seen her too. Once.” Kvothe sat back in his chair, surprised. “You have, haven’t you? I’d forgotten.”

Bast and Denna have crossed paths!!!

We stare at a fire because it flickers, because it glows. The light is what catches our eyes, but what makes a man lean close to a fire has nothing to do with its bright shape. What draws you to a fire is the warmth you feel when you come near. The same was true of Denna.”

Then he relaxed, like a sail when the wind leaves it. “But to be honest, it must be said that she was beautiful to others as well. . . .”

Since we parted ways, I had kept foolish, fond thoughts of Denna hidden in a secret corner of my heart.

of her coming to find me at the University.

For some reason I think that's exactly what happened. And she knew where to look after his impromptu playing at campfire

She smiled at me then. It was warm and sweet and shy, like a flower unfurling. It was friendly and honest and slightly embarrassed. When she smiled at me, I felt . . .

There you will feel what I felt.

I felt like the ice itself, suddenly shattered, with cracks spiraling out from where she had touched my chest. The only reason I held together was because my thousand pieces were all leaning together. If I moved, I feared I would fall apart.

“Not many people know that play.” “I am not many people,” she said.

Lyra

Better to make a fresh start and hope I was more memorable the second time around.

Implies there is a 3rd significant reunion after an extended absence

before this. I wasn’t sure if I’d remember all of it.” “Twice?” Denna nodded. “And the second time was just a span ago. A couple played it during a formal dinner I attended off in Aetnia.” “Are you serious?” I said incredulously. She tilted her head back and forth, as if caught in a white lie. Her dark hair fell across her face and she brushed it away absentmindedly. “Okay, I suppose I did hear the couple rehearse a little right before the dinner. . . .”

She is thoroughly as exceptionally talented as he. They are, then, rather well-matched. Or she doesn’t just LOOK like she was caught in a lie, she WAS caught in a lie

I turned to Denna. “What of you? I owe you a great favor—how can I repay it? Ask anything and it is yours, should it be within my skill.” “Anything within your skill,” she repeated playfully. “What can you do then, besides play so well that Tehlu and his angels would weep to hear?” “I imagine I could do anything,” I said easily. “If you would ask it of me.”

How very beautiful. Soulfully devoted and tender. And unrepentantly disrespectful to Sovoy lol

She’ll have you off to bring her a leaf of the singing tree from the other side of the world.”

Rothfuss keeps giving away pieces of the future and lobbing them like softballs for the devoted re-reader. No careless words. I mean he literally braves that very tree

“I have it,” I assured her. “As sure as I know my own.”

It is quiet, and when the belling tower strikes the late hour, it doesn’t break the silence so much as it underpins it. The crickets, too, respect the silence. Their calls are like careful stitches in its fabric, almost too small to be seen.

The three boys, one dark, one light, and one—for lack of a better word—fiery, do not notice the night. Perhaps some part of them does, but they are young, and drunk, and busy knowing deep in their hearts that they will never grow old or die. They also know that they are friends, and they share a certain love that will never leave them. The boys know many other things, but none of them seem as important as this. Perhaps they are right.

Careful boy, that one will steal your heart. Men fall for her like wheat before a sickle blade.”

Metal rusts, I thought, music lasts forever. Time will eventually prove one of us right.

If you have never been desperately poor, I doubt you can understand the relief I felt.

I fought off a shiver, trying not to dwell on the fact that the appearance of the Doctor always signaled catastrophe in the next act.

And, if I had to guess, I’d say this particular piece of insolence was the main reason Ambrose eventually tried to kill me.

Kilvin said, “in its gaseous state the reagent is flammable. Once it warms sufficiently, it will burn on contact with air. The heat that this produces can cause a cascading exothermic reaction.” “Cascading huge goddamn fire,” Manet said.

😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

She looked me in the eye. “Kvothe,” she said seriously. “Steal me.”

“This is quite a bouquet you’ve brought for me,” she said gently. Unconsciously, she raised a hand to the side of her neck where I had touched her, held it there a moment, then let it fall.

Gah!

She caught a piece of my smile and shone it back at me.

“Why a willow blossom?” “You remind me of a willow,” she said easily. “Strong, deep-rooted, and hidden. You move easily when the storm comes, but never farther than you wish.” I lifted my hands as if fending off a blow. “Cease these sweet words,” I protested. “You seek to bend me to your will, but it will not work. Your flattery is naught to me but wind!” She watched me for a moment, as if to make sure my tirade was complete. “Beyond all other trees,” she said with a curl of a smile on her elegant mouth, “the willow moves to the wind’s desire.”

Ah, then. Denna is the name of the "wind" And bravo Pat. Good stuff

“I like them,” she said. “Wilem is a stone in deep water. Simmon is like a boy splashing in a brook.”

It had the desperate feel of the last warm night of summer.

and all the while I could hardly breathe for the nearness of her,

the sound of her voice as it touched t...

“I look,” I protested. “I just don’t seem to have a knack for finding you.” She rolled her eyes dramatically. “If you could recommend an auspicious time and place to look for you, it would make a world of difference. . . .” I trailed off gently, making it a question. “Perhaps tomorrow?” Denna gave me a sideways glance, smiling. “You’re always so cautious,” she said. “I’ve never known a man to step so carefully.” She looked at my face as if it were a puzzle she could solve.