The Name of the Wind

“They started a smaller group inside the University. They called it the Arcanum and it was a very small, very secret thing. They had a ranking system among themselves, and your rise through those ranks was due to prowess and nothing else. One entered this group by proving they could see things for what they really were. They became E’lir, which means see-er. How do you think they became Re’lar?” He looked at me expectantly

“By speaking.”

He laughed. “Right!” He stopped and turned to face me. “But speaking what?” His eyes were bright and sharp.

“Words?”

“Names,” he said excitedly. “Names are the shape of the world, and a man who can speak them is on the road to power. Back in the beginning, the Arcanum was a small collection of men who understood things. Men who knew powerful names. They taught a few students, slowly, carefully encouraging them toward power and wisdom. And magic. Real magic.” He looked around at the buildings and milling students. “In those days the Arcanum was a strong brandy. Now it is well-watered wine.”

I waited until I was sure he was finished. “Master Elodin, what happened yesterday?” I held my breath and hoped beyond hope for an intelligible answer.

He gave me a quizzical look. “You called the name of the wind,” he said as if the answer were obvious.

“But what does that mean? And what do you mean by name? Is it just a name like ‘Kvothe’ or ‘Elodin’? Or is it more like ‘Taborlin knew the names of many things.’ ”

“Like both,” he said, waving to a pretty girl leaning out a second-story window.

“But how can a name do something like that? ‘Kvothe’ and ‘Elodin’ are just sounds we make, they don’t have any power by themselves.”

Elodin raised his eyebrows at this. “Really? Watch.” He looked down the street. “Nathan!” he shouted. A boy turned to look in our direction. I recognized him as one of Jamison’s errand boys. “Nathan, come here!”

The boy trotted over and looked up at Elodin. “Yes sir?”

Elodin handed the boy his master’s robe. “Nathan, would you take this to my rooms for me?”

“Certainly sir,” the boy took the robe and hurried away.

Elodin looked at me. “Do you see? The names we call each other are not Names. But they have some power nonetheless.”

“That’s not magic,” I protested. “He had to listen to you. You’re a master.”

“And you’re a Re’lar,” he said implacably. “You called the wind and the wind listened.”

I struggled with the concept. “You’re saying the wind is alive?”

He made a vague gesture. “In a way. Most things are alive in one way or another.”

I decided to take a different tack. “How did I call the wind if I didn’t know how?”

Elodin clapped his hands together, sharply. “That is an excellent question! The answer is that each of us has two minds: a waking mind and a sleeping mind. Our waking mind is what thinks and talks and reasons. But the sleeping mind is more powerful. It sees deeply to the heart of things. It is the part of us that dreams. It remembers everything. It gives us intuition. Your waking mind does not understand the nature of names. Your sleeping mind does. It already knows many things that your waking mind does not.”

Elodin looked at me. “Remember how you felt after you called the name of the wind?”

I nodded, not enjoying the memory.

“When Ambrose broke your lute, it roused your sleeping mind. Like a great hibernating bear jabbed with a burning stick, it reared up and roared the name of the wind.” He swung his arms around wildly, attracting odd looks from passing students. “Afterward your waking mind did not know what to do. It was left with an angry bear.”

“What did you do? I can’t remember what you whispered to me.”

“It was a name. It was a name that settled the angry bear, eased it back to sleep. But it is not sleeping so soundly now. We need to rouse it slowly and bring it under your control.”

“Is that why you moved to suspend my expulsion?”

He made a dismissive gesture. “You were in no real danger of being expelled. You are not the first student to call the name of the wind in anger, though you are the first in several years. Some strong emotion usually wakes the sleeping mind for the first time.” He smiled. “The name of the wind came to me when I was arguing with Elxa Dal. When I shouted it his braziers exploded in a cloud of burning ash and cinder,” he chuckled.

“What did he do to make you so angry?”

“He refused to teach me the advanced bindings. I was only fourteen and an E’lir. He told me I would have to wait until I was a Re’lar.”

“There are advanced bindings?”

He grinned at me. “Secrets, Re’lar Kvothe. That is what being an arcanist is all about. Now that you are a Re’lar you are entitled to certain things that were withheld before. The advanced sympathetic bindings, the nature of names. Some smattering of dubious runes, if Kilvin thinks you’re ready.”

Hope rose in my chest. “Does this mean I’m allowed access to the Archives now?”

“Ah,” Elodin said. “No. Not in the least. You see, the Archives are Lorren’s domain, his kingdom. Those secrets are not mine to give away.”