The Name of the Wind

Chronicler nodded, rolling it around. “It hurt like twelve bastards when he touched me, like something was tearing up inside.” He shook his head in irritation at his own description. “Now it just feels strange. Numb. Like it’s asleep.”

Bast prodded his shoulder with a finger, looking it over dubiously.

Chronicler looked back at Kvothe. “The boy was right about the fire, wasn’t he? Until he mentioned it, I didn’t underaaaaggghhhh!” the scribe shouted, jerking away from Bast. “What in God’s name was that?” he demanded.

“Your brachial nerve plexus, I’m guessing,” Kvothe said dryly.

“I needed to see how deep the damage went,” Bast said, unruffled. “Reshi? Would you get me some goose grease, garlic, mustard.... Do we have any of those green things that smell like onions but aren’t?”

Kvothe nodded. “Keveral? I think there’s a few left.”

“Bring them, and a bandage too. I should get a salve on this.”

Kvothe nodded and stepped through the doorway behind the bar. As soon as he was out of sight, Bast leaned close to Chronicler’s ear. “Don’t ask him about it,” he hissed urgently. “Don’t mention it at all.”

Chronicler looked puzzled. “What are you talking about?”

“About the bottle. About the sympathy he tried to do.”

“So he was trying to light that thing on fire? Why didn’t it work? What’s—”

Bast tightened his grip, his thumb digging into the hollow beneath Chronicler’s collarbone. The scribe gave another startled yelp. “Don’t talk about that,” Bast hissed in his ear. “Don’t ask questions.” Holding both the scribe’s shoulders, Bast shook him once, like an angry parent with a stubborn child.

“Good lord, Bast. I can hear him howling all the way in the back,” Kvothe called from the kitchen. Bast stood upright and pulled Chronicler straight in his chair as the innkeeper emerged from the doorway “Tehlu anyway, he’s white as a sheet. Is he going to be okay?”

“It’s about as serious as a frostburn,” Bast said disparagingly “It’s not my fault if he screams like a little girl.”

“Well, be careful with him,” Kvothe said, setting a pot of grease and a handful of garlic cloves on the table. “He’ll need that arm for at least another couple days.”

Kvothe peeled and crushed the garlic. Bast mixed the salve and smeared the foul-smelling concoction onto the scribe’s shoulder before wrapping a bandage around it. Chronicler sat very still.

“Do you feel up for a little more writing tonight?” Kvothe asked after the scribe was wearing his shirt again. “We’re still days away from any true ending, but I can tie up a few loose ends before we call it a night.”

“I’m good for hours yet.” Chronicler hurried to unpack his satchel without so much as a glance in Bast’s direction.

“Me too.” Bast turned to face Kvothe, his face bright and eager. “I want to know what you found under the University.”

Kvothe gave a shadow of a smile. “I supposed you would, Bast.” He came to the table and took a seat. “Underneath the University, I found what I had wanted most, yet it was not what I expected.” He motioned for Chronicler to pick up his pen. “As is often the case when you gain your heart’s desire.”

CHAPTER EIGHTY-NINE A Pleasant Afternoon

The next day I was whipped in the wide cobblestone courtyard that used to be called the Quoyan Hayel. The House of the Wind. I found it oddly appropriate.

As predicted, there was an impressive crowd for the event. Hundreds of students filled the courtyard to overflowing. They peered out of windows and doorways. A few even found their way onto the rooftops for a better view. I don’t blame them, really. Free entertainment is hard to pass by.

I was lashed six times, singly, across the back. Not wanting to disappoint, I gave them something to talk about. A repeat performance. I did not cry out, or bleed, or faint. I left the courtyard walking on my own two feet with my head held high.

After Mola laid fifty-seven tidy stitches across my back, I found consolation in a journey to Imre where I spent Ambrose’s money on an extraordinarily fine lute, two nice sets of used clothing for me, a small bottle of my own blood, and a warm new dress for Auri.

It was, all in all, a very pleasant afternoon.

CHAPTER NINETY Half-Built Houses

Every night i went exploring underground with Auri. I saw many interesting things, some of which may bear mentioning later, but for now suffice to say that she showed me all the vast and varied corners of the Underthing. She took me to Downings, Vaults, the Woods, Delving, Crick-let, Tenners, Candlebear....