The Wise Man's Fear (The Kingkiller Chronicle, #2)

by Patrick Rothfuss

“But Simmon does not go home. Not for even a brief visit. Sim’s father likes to hunt, fight, drink, and wench. I suspect our gentle, bookish Sim was probably not given the love a clever son deserves.”

Simmon assumed an innocent expression, which on his naturally innocent face only served to make him look profoundly guilty.

“I don’t know you.” A pause. “Who are you?” “I am Kvothe.” “You seem so certain of it,” he said, looking at me intently.

“Does he always look like this?” Puppet asked Wilem and Simmon. A small drift of pale wood shavings had gathered around his hands. “Mostly,” Wilem said. “Like what?” Simmon asked. “Like he’s just thought through his next three moves in a game of tirani and figured out how he’s going to beat you.”

“You looked too hard and didn’t see enough. Too much looking can get in the way of seeing, you see?”

I’d guess Wilem had just lost a bet. Don’t you know the church frowns on gambling?” At Puppet’s feet, the priest brandished the book upward at Wilem.

Devi sat very still. She fought to maintain her composure, but guilt was creeping onto her expression. “Was it bad?” “It was,” I said quietly.

Devi looked down at her hands. “I’m not proud of selling it,” she admitted. Then after a moment, she looked up again, grinning. “But the Tegnostae has gorgeous illustrations.” I laughed. “Show me.”

“Oh,” he said, obviously a little disappointed. “You looked kinda proprietorial standing there.

He started to go, then turned back. “Out of curiosity,” he asked. “Would you have paid two hard pennies to get it?” “Probably,” I admitted. “Kist,” he swore,

I have spent some time afloat as well, and learned all manner of sailor’s knots, and how to spit properly. Also, my Cussing has been greatly broadened. If you ask politely when we next meet, I may demonstrate my newfound skills.

I think of you often and fondly.

Elodin gave her a reassuring smile. “Come now,” he said gently. “You know in your secret heart you are capable of this. And more.”

Kilvin looked at me sideways, his eyes smiling a little. “One would think a student of Elodin’s would prove more facile with his naming, Re’lar Kvothe.”

Kilvin let out a deep sigh. “Before, when you made your thieves’ lamp, you made a bad thing in a good way. That I do not like.” He looked down at the schema. “This time you have made a good thing in a bad way. That is better, but not entirely. Best is to make a good thing in a good way. Agreed?”

“Of course I approve it, Re’lar Kvothe. It is a wondrous thing. It is an improvement to the world. Every time a person sees such a thing, they will see how artificery is used to keep men safe. They will think well of all artificers for the making of such a thing.”

Kilvin looked at me for a long moment, then nodded. “As you say. Eight talents.” He ran his hand over the top of the arrowcatch, almost petting it. “However, as this is the first and only one in existence, I will pay you twenty-five for it. It will go in my personal collection.” He cocked his head at me. “Lhinsatva?”

“What exactly is going on here?” Sim demanded, his voice hard and angry. It was the only time I’d ever heard him sound like the son of a duke. “Explain yourself.”

“Ah, well,” Old Cob said as he drank the last of his beer and knocked down his mug. “Nothing to be ’shamed of, Kote. Some folk are good at remembering and some ain’t. You make a fine pie, but we all know who the storyteller is around here.”

Hehehehehe

He eyed me seriously. “Have you been drinking?” I slumped in my chair. “No.” He came to his feet. “Then you should start. You have been spending too much time with all these books. You need to wash the dust from your brains.”

“Not only is my story designed to delight and entertain, but there is a kernel of truth hidden within, where only the cleverest student might find it.” His expression turned mysterious. “All the truth in the world is held in stories, you know.”

Manet set his cards down with profound calm. “Kvothe. You’re a clever boy, but you have a world of trouble listening to things you don’t want to hear.”

“Caution suits an arcanist. Assurance suits a namer. Fear does not suit either. It does not suit you.”

“It is an edge,” he said at last. “It is a high place with a chance of falling. Things are more easily seen from edges. Danger rouses the sleeping mind. It makes some things clear. Seeing things is a part of being a namer.”

Devi opened the door for me and widened her eyes in shock. “My goodness,” she said, pressing a piece of paper dramatically to her chest. I recognized it as one of the notes I left under her door. “It’s my secret admirer.”

I rolled my eyes. Why did everyone always expect me to behave so poorly?

Oh my god, Kvothe. I wonder

There was nothing special about the dried apple, but in my opinion if you have a secret compartment in your lute case and don’t use it to hide things, there is something terribly, terribly wrong with you.

“Remember: there are three things all wise men fear: the sea in storm, a night with no moon, and the anger of a gentle man.”

The most irritating was the loss of Fela’s cloak. I’d been forced to tear it up and use it for bandages in Junpui. Nearly as bad was the fact that my hard-won gram now lay somewhere deep below the cold, dark waters of the Centhe Sea.

Noooo :dust:

Like most nobility, he was self-centered as a gyroscope,

My rooms were so pleasant it took me almost a full day to realize how much I hated them.

My room in Anker’s had been tiny, but here I felt like a dried pea rattling around inside an empty jewelry box.

I idly wondered how exactly one was supposed to lounge. I couldn’t remember ever doing it myself. After a moment’s consideration, I decided lounging was probably similar to relaxing, but with more money in your pocket.

We entered the shadow of the trellis tunnel where hundreds of deep red petals blossomed in the shade of leaf and arch. The smell was sweet and tremulous. I brushed a hand across one of the deep red blooms. It was unspeakably soft. I thought of Denna.

T-T

“You notice he complimented me on the selas? I have never touched a trowel in my life.” He looked sideways at me, his expression slightly smug. “Do you still think inherent power is the better of the two?”

I even suspected there were a few attempts at seduction, but at that point in my life I knew so little of women that I was immune to those games.

Unbidden, I remembered my tirade to a tailor in Tarbean years ago. What had I said to him? A gentleman is never far from his purse? I fought down an inappropriate fit of laughter.

I turned, stepped off the lift, and saw Denna standing in the front of the line. Before I had time to do anything other than stare in wonder, she turned and met my eyes. Her face lit. She cried my name, ran at me, and was nestled in my arms before I knew what was happening. I settled my arms around her and rested my cheek against her ear. We came together easily, as if we were dancers. As if we’d practiced it a thousand times. She was warm and soft.

Shadow took her, and suddenly I was alone. I stood, the smell of her still in the air around me, the warmth of her just fading from my hands. I could still feel the tremor of her heart, like a caged bird beating against my chest.