“Can you see the wind?”

  I tried. For a moment it seemed as if . . . No. It was nothing. I shook my head.

  Elodin shrugged nonchalantly, though I sensed a hint of disappointment. “This is a good place for a namer. Tell me why.”

  I looked around. “Wide wind, strong water, old stone.”

  “Good answer.” I heard genuine pleasure in his voice. “But there is another reason. Stone, water, and wind are other places too. What makes this different?”

  I thought for a moment, looked around, shook my head. “I don’t know.”

  “Another good answer. Remember it.”

  I waited for him to continue. When he didn’t, I asked, “What makes this a good place?”

  He looked out over the water for a long time before he answered. “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.”

  “What about falling?” I asked.

  “If you fall, you fall,” Elodin shrugged. “Sometimes falling teaches us things too. In dreams you often fall before you wake.”

  We were both silent in our thoughts for a while. I closed my eyes and tried to listen for the name of the wind. I heard the water below, felt the stone of the bridge beneath my palms. Nothing.

  “Do you know what they used to say when a student left the University for a term?” Elodin asked.

  I shook my head.

  “They said he was chasing the wind,” he chuckled.

  “I’ve heard the expression.”

  “Have you? What did it seem to mean?”

  I took a moment to choose my words. “It had a frivolous flavor. As if students were running around to no good purpose.”

  Elodin nodded. “Most students leave for frivolous reasons, or to pursue frivolous things.” He leaned forward to look straight down at the river below. “But that was not always the meaning of it.”

  “No?”

  “No.” He sat back up again. “Long ago, when all students aspired to be namers, things were different.” He licked a finger and held it to the air. “The name most fledgling namers were encouraged to find was that of the wind. After they found that name, their sleeping minds were roused and finding other names was easier.

  “But some students had trouble finding the name of the wind. There were too few edges here, too little risk. So they would go off into the wild, uneducated lands. They would seek their fortunes, have adventures, hunt for secrets and treasure. . . .” He looked at me. “But they were really looking for the name of the wind.”

  Our conversation paused as someone came onto the bridge. It was a man with dark hair and a pinched face. He watched us from the corner of his eye without turning his head, and as he walked behind us I tried not to think how easy it would be for him to push me off the bridge.

  Then he was past us. Elodin gave a weary sigh and continued. “Things have changed. There are even fewer edges now than there were before. The world is less wild. There are fewer magics, more secrets, and only a handful of people who know the name of the wind.”

  “You know it, don’t you?” I asked.

  Elodin nodded. “It changes from place to place, but I know how to listen for its changing shape.” He laughed and clapped me on the shoulder. “You should go. Chase the wind. Do not be afraid of the occasional risk.” He smiled. “In moderation.”

  I swung my legs around, hopped off the thick wall, and resettled my lute and travelsack over my shoulder. But as I started toward Imre, Elodin’s voice stopped me. “Kvothe.”

  I turned and saw Elodin lean forward over the side of the bridge. He grinned like a schoolboy. “Spit for luck.”

  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 was trying to pay off my loan,” I said. “I made four trips.”

  “The walk is good for you,” she said with a cheerful lack of sympathy as she motioned me inside, bolting the door behind me. The room smelled of. . .

  I sniffed. “What is that?” I asked.

  Her expression went rueful. “It was supposed to be pear.”

  I lay down my lute case and travelsack and took a seat at her desk. Despite my best intentions, my eyes were drawn to the charred black ring.

  Devi tossed her strawberry-blonde hair and met my eye. “Care for a rematch?” she asked, her mouth curving. “I can still take you, gram or no gram. I can take you while I’m dead asleep.”

  “I’ll admit to being curious,” I said. “But I should tend to business instead.”

  “Very well,” she said. “Are you really going to pay me off entire? Have you finally found yourself a patron?”

  I shook my head. “However, I have had a remarkable opportunity arise. The chance to get a fine patron indeed.” I paused. “In Vintas.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “That’s a long ways off,” she said pointedly. “I’m glad you stopped to settle your debt before jaunting off to the other side of the world. Who knows when you’ll be back.”

  “Indeed,” I said. “However. I find myself in a bit of an odd place, financially speaking.”

  Devi was already shaking her head before I finished speaking. “Absolutely not. You’re already into me for nine talents. I am not loaning you more money the day you leave town.”

  I held up my hands defensively. “You misunderstand,” I said. I opened my purse and spilled talents and jots onto the table. Denna’s ring tumbled out too, and I stopped it before it could roll off the edge of the table.

  I gestured to the pile of coins in front of me, slightly more than thirteen talents. “This is all the money I have in the world,” I said. “With it, I need to get myself to Severen with fair speed. A thousand miles with some to spare. That means passage on at least one ship. Food. Lodging. Money for coaches or the use of a post note.”

  As I listed each of these things, I slid an appropriate amount of money from one side of the desk to the other. “When I finally arrive in Severen, I will need to buy myself clothes that will allow me to move among the court without looking like the ragged musician I am.” I slid more coins.

  I pointed at the few straggling coins remaining. “This does not leave me enough to settle my debt with you.”

  Devi watched me over her steepled fingers. “I see,” she said seriously. “We must discover some alternate method for you to square your debt.”

  “My thought is this,” I said. “I can leave you with collateral against my eventual return.”

  Her eyes flickered down to the slender, dark shape of my lute case.

  “Not my lute,” I said quickly. “I need that.”

  “What then?” she asked. “You’ve always said you have no collateral.”

  “I have a few things,” I said, rummaging around in my travelsack and brought up a book.

  Devi’s eyes lit up. Then she read the spine. “Rhetoric and Logic?” She made a face.

  “I feel the same way,” I said. “But it’s worth something. Especially to me. Also . . .” I reached into the pocket of my cloak and brought out my hand lamp. “I have this. A sympathy lamp of my own design. It has a focused beam and a graded switch.”

  Devi picked it up off the desk, nodding to herself. “I remember this,” she said. “Before, you said you couldn’t give it up because of a promise you’d made to Kilvin. Has that changed?”

  I gave a bright smile that was two-thirds lie. “That promise is actually what makes that lamp the perfect piece of collateral,” I said. “If you take this lamp to Kilvin, I have every confidence he will pay a lavish sum just to get it out of . . .” I cleared my throat. “Unsavory hands.”

  Devi flicked the switch idly with her thumb, spinning it from dim to bright and back again. “And I imagine this would be a stipulation you require? That I return it to Kilvin?”

  “You know me so well,” I said. “It’s almost embarrassing.”

  Devi set the lamp back on the table next to my book and took a slow breath through her nose. “A book that’s only valuable to you,” she said. “And a lamp that’s only valuable to Kilvin.” She shook her head. “This is not an appealing offer.”

  I felt a pang as I reached to my shoulder and unclasped my talent pipes and slid them onto the table as well. “Those are silver,” I said. “And hard to come by. They’ll get you into the Eolian free, too.”

  “I know what they are.” Devi picked them up and looked them over with a sharp eye. Then she pointed. “You had a ring.”

  I froze. “That’s not mine to give.”

  Devi laughed. “It’s in your pocket, isn’t it?” She snapped her fingers. “Come now. Let me see it.”

  I brought it out of my pocket, but I didn’t hand it over. “I went through a lot of trouble for this,” I said. “It’s the ring Ambrose took from a friend of mine. I’m just waiting to return it to her.”

  Devi sat silently, her hand outstretched. After a moment I put the ring onto her palm.

  She held it close to the lamp and leaned forward, squinting one eye closed on her pixie face. “That’s a nice stone,” she said appreciatively.

  “The setting’s new,” I said miserably.

  Devi set the ring carefully on top of the book next to my pipes and hand lamp. “Here is the deal,” she said. “I will keep these items as collateral against your current debt of nine talents. This will last for the space of one year.”

  “A year and a day,” I said.

  A smile curved the corner of her mouth. “How storybook of you. Very well. This will postpone your repayment for a year and a day. If you have not repaid me by the end of that time, these items will be forfeit, and our debt will be cleared.” Her smile went sharp. “Though I may be persuaded to return them in exchange for certain information.”

  I heard the belling tower in the distance and gave a deep sigh. I didn’t have much time for bargaining, as I was already late for my meeting with Threpe. “Fine,” I said, irritated. “But the ring will be kept somewhere safe. You can’t wear it until I’ve defaulted.”

  Devi frowned. “You don’t—”

  “I am not movable on this point,” I said seriously. “It belongs to a friend. It is precious to her. I would not have her see it on someone else’s hand. Not after everything I did to get it back from Ambrose.”

  Devi said nothing, her pixie face set in a grim expression. I put on my own grim expression and met her eye. I do a good grim expression when I need to.

  A long moment of silence stretched between us.

  “Fine!” she said at last.

  We shook hands. “A year and a day,” I said.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  All Wise Men Fear

  I stopped by the Eolian where Threpe was waiting for me, practically dancing with impatience. He had, he told me, found a boat heading downriver in less than an hour. What’s more, he had already paid my way as far as Tarbean, where I should easily be able to find passage east.

  The two of us hurried to the docks, arriving just as the ship was going through its final preparations. Threpe, red-faced and puffing from our brisk walk, hurried to give me a lifetime’s worth of advice in the space of three minutes.

  “The Maer is old, old blood,” he said. “Not like most of the little nobility around these parts who can’t tell you who their great-grandfathers are. So treat him with respect.”

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

  “And remember,” he said. “If you look like you’re chasing money, they’ll see you as provincial. As soon as that happens no one will take you seriously. You’re there to curry favor. That’s the high-stakes game. Besides, fortune follows favor, as they say. If you get one, you’ll have the other. It’s like what Teccam wrote, ‘The cost of a loaf is a simple thing, and so a loaf is often sought . . .’ ”

  “ ‘. . . but some things are past valuing: laughter, land, and love are never bought.’ ” I finished. It was actually a quote from Gregan the Lesser, but I didn’t bother correcting him.

  “Hoy there!” a tan, bearded man shouted to us from the deck of the ship. “We got one straggler we’re waitin’ on, and Captain’s angry as an ugly whore. He swears he’ll leave if he ain’t here in two minutes. You’d do well to be aboard by then.” He wandered off without waiting for a reply.

  “Address him as your grace,” Threpe continued as if we hadn’t been interrupted. “And remember: speak least if you would be most often heard. Oh!” He drew a sealed letter from his breast pocket. “Here’s your letter of introduction. I may send another copy by post, just so he knows to expect you.”

  I gave him a broad smile and gripped his arm. “Thank you, Denn,” I said earnestly. “For everything. I appreciate all of this more than you know.”

  Threpe waved the comment aside. “I know you’ll do splendidly. You’re a clever boy. Mind that you find a good tailor when you get there. The fashions will be different. As they say: know a lady by her manner, a man by his cloth.”

  I knelt and opened up my lute case. Moving the lute aside, I pressed the lid of the secret compartment and twisted it open. I slid Threpe’s sealed letter inside, where it joined the hollow horn with Nina’s drawing and a small sack of dried apple I had stowed there. 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.

  I snapped the clasps closed, refastening the lid, then stood and gathered up my belongings, ready to board the ship.

  Threpe gripped my shoulder suddenly. “I almost forgot! Alveron mentioned in one of his letters that the young people in his court gamble. He thinks it’s a deplorable habit, so stay clear of it. And remember, small thaws make great floods, so be twice wary of a slowly changing season.”

  I saw someone running down the dock toward us. It was the pinch-faced man who had passed Elodin and me on Stonebridge earlier. He carried a cloth-wrapped package close under one arm.

  “I’m guessing that’s their missing sailor,” I said quickly. “I’d better get aboard.” I gave Threpe a quick embrace and tried to get away before he could give me any more advice.

  But he caught my sleeve as I turned. “Be careful on your way there,” he said, his expression anxious. “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 sailor passed us and hit the gangplank running, unmindful of how the board jounced and clattered under his feet. I gave Threpe a reassuring smile and followed close on his heels. Two leathery men hauled up the plank, and I returned Threpe’s final wave.

  Orders were shouted, men scrambled, and the ship began to move. I turned to face downriver, toward Tarbean, toward the sea.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  A Brief Journey

  My route was a simple one. I would head downriver to Tarbean, through the Refting Strait, down the coast toward Junpui, then up the Arrand River. It was more roundabout than going overland, but better in the long run. Even if I were to purchase a post letter and change horses at every opportunity, it would still take me almost three span to reach Severen overland. And most of that time would be in southern Atur and the Small Kingdoms. Only priests and fools expected the roads in that part of the world to be safe.

  The water route added several hundred miles to the distance traveled, but ships at sea need not mind the twistings and turnings of a road. And while a good horse can set a better pace than a ship, you can’t ride a horse day and night without stopping to rest. The water route would take about a dozen days, depending on the weather.

  My curiosity was also glad to take the sea route. I had never been on any water larger than a river. My only real concern was that I might become bored with nothing but wind, waves, and sailors for company.

  Several unfortunate complications arose during the trip.

  In brief, there was a storm, piracy, treachery, and shipwreck, although not in that order. It also goes without saying that I did a great many things, some heroic, some ill-advised, some clever and audacious.

  Over the course of my trip I was robbed, drowned, and left penniless on the streets of Junpui. In order to survive I begged for crusts, stole a man’s shoes, and recited poetry. The last should demonstrate more than all the rest how truly desperate my situation became.

  However, as these events have little to do with the heart of the story, I must pass them over in favor of more important things. Simply said, it took me sixteen days to reach Severen. A bit longer than I had planned, but at no point during my journey was I ever bored.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  The Sheer

  I limped through the gates of Severen ragged, penniless, and hungry. I am no stranger to hunger. I know the countless hollow shapes it takes inside you. This particular hunger wasn’t a terrible one. I’d eaten two apples and some salt pork a day ago, so this hunger was merely painful. It wasn’t the bad hunger that leaves you weak and trembling. I was safe from that for at least eight hours or so.

  Over the last two span everything I owned had been lost, destroyed, stolen, or abandoned. The only exception was my lute. Denna’s marvelous case had paid for itself ten times during my trip. In addition to saving my life on one occasion, it had protected my lute, Threpe’s letter of introduction, and Nina’s invaluable drawing of the Chandrian.

  You may notice I don’t include any clothing on my list of possessions. There are two good reasons for this. The first is that you couldn’t really call the grubby rags I wore clothing without stretching the truth to its breaking point. Secondly, I had stolen them, so it doesn’t seem right to claim them as my own.