The Name of the Wind

Elodin stopped walking and turned to look at me. “Fine. Prove me wrong. Prove that you’ve thought this through. Why does a University with under fifteen hundred students need an asylum the size of the royal palace?”

My mind raced. “Most students are from well-to-do families,” I said. “They’ve led easy lives. When forced to ...”

“Wrong,” Elodin said dismissively turning to walk down the hall. “It is because of what we study Because of the way we train our minds to move.”

“So ciphering and grammar make people crazy,” I said, taking care to phrase it as a statement.

Elodin stopped walking and wrenched open the nearest door. Panicked screaming burst out into the hallway. “... IN ME! THEY’RE IN ME! THEY’RE IN ME! THEY’RE IN ME!” Through the open door I could see a young man thrashing against the leather restraints that bound him to the bed at wrist, waist, neck, and ankle.

“Trigonometry and diagrammed logic don’t do this,” Elodin said, looking me in the eye.

“THEY’RE IN ME! THEY’RE IN ME! THEY’RE IN—”The screaming continued in an unbroken chant, like the endless, mindless barking of a dog at night. “—ME! THEY’RE IN ME! THEY’RE IN ME! THEY’RE—”

Elodin closed the door. Though I could still hear the screaming faintly through the thick door, the near-silence was stunning. “Do you know why they call this place the Rookery?” Elodin asked.

I shook my head.

“Because it’s where you go if you’re a-ravin’.” He smiled a wild smile. He laughed a terrible laugh.

Elodin led me through a long series of hallways to a different wing of the Crockery. Finally we turned a corner and I saw something new: a door made entirely of copper.

Elodin took a key from his pocket and unlocked it. “I like to stop in when I’m back in the neighborhood,” he said casually as he opened the door. “Check my mail. Water the plants and such.”

He pulled off one of his socks, tied a knot in it, and used it to wedge the door open. “It’s a nice place to visit, but, you know ...” He tugged on the door, making sure it wouldn’t swing closed. “Not again.”

The first thing I noticed about the room was something strange about the air. At first I thought it might be soundproofed like Alder Whin’s, but looking around I saw the walls and ceilings were bare grey stone. Next I thought the air might be stale, except when I drew a breath I smelled lavender and fresh linen. It was almost like there was a pressure on my ears, as if I were deep underwater, except of course that I wasn’t. I waved a hand in front of me, almost expecting the air to feel different, thicker. It didn’t.

“Pretty irritating, huh?” I turned around to see Elodin watching me. “I’m surprised you noticed, actually. Not many do.”

The room was a definite step above Alder Whin’s. It had a four-post bed with curtains, an overstuffed couch, an empty bookcase, and a large table with several chairs. Most notable were the huge windows looking out over the lawns and gardens. I could see a balcony outside, but there didn’t seem to be any way to get to it.

“Watch this,” Elodin said. He picked up one of the high-backed wooden chairs, lifted it with both hands, spun in a circle, and flung it hard at the window. I cringed, but instead of a terrible crash, there was just a dull splintering of wood. The chair fell to the floor in a ruined tangle of timber and upholstery.

“I used to do that for hours,” Elodin said, drawing a deep breath and looking around the room fondly. “Good times.”

I went to look at the windows. They were thicker than usual, but not that thick. They seemed normal except for faint reddish streaks running through them. I glanced at the window frame. It was copper too. I looked slowly around at the room, eyeing its bare stone walls, feeling its strangely heavy air. I noticed the door didn’t even have a handle on the inside, let alone a lock. Why would anyone go through all the trouble of making a solid copper door?

I decided on my second question. “How did you get out?”

“Finally,” Elodin said with a tinge of exasperation.

He slouched onto the couch. “You see, once upon a time Elodin the Great found himself locked in a high tower.” He gestured to the room around us. “He had been stripped of his tools: his coin, key, and candle. Furthermore, his cell had no door worth mentioning. No window that could be breached.” He made dismissive gestures at each of these. “Even the name of the wind was hidden from him by the clever machinations of his captors.”

Elodin got up from the couch and began to pace the room. “All around him was nothing but smooth hard stone. It was a cell no man had ever escaped.”

He stopped pacing and held up a finger dramatically. “But Elodin the Great knew the names of all things, and so all things were his to command.” He faced the grey wall beside the windows. “He said to the stone: ‘BREAK’ and the ...”