The Name of the Wind

“Can’t say I’m surprised, there were quite a crop of lovelies out. One or two asked about you.” He winked at me. “Who caught your eye?”

“It’s not like that,” I protested. “She was the one who sang my harmony last night. She had a lovely voice and I was hoping to find her so we could do a little singing.”

“I think I know the tune you’re talking about.” He gave me a broad, knowing smile.

I felt myself blushing furiously and began to protest again.

“Oh settle down, I’ll keep this one between my tongue and teeth. I’ll even keep from telling Stanchion, which is as good as telling the whole town. He gossips like a schoolgirl when he’s had a cup.” He looked at me expectantly.

“She was slender with deep, coffee-colored eyes,” I said before I thought about how it sounded. I hurried on before either Threpe or Deoch could make a joke. “Her name was Dianne.”

“Ahhh.” Deoch nodded slowly to himself, his smile going a little wry. “I guess I should have known.”

“Does she live here?” Threpe asked. “I don’t believe I know her.”

“You’d remember,” Deoch said. “But no, I don’t think she lives in town. I see her off and on. She travels, always here and gone again.” He rubbed the back of his head and gave me a worried smile. “I don’t know where you might be able to find her. Careful boy, that one will steal your heart. Men fall for her like wheat before a sickle blade.”

I shrugged as if such things couldn’t be further from my mind, and was glad when Threpe turned the topic to a piece of gossip about one of the local councilmen. I chuckled at their bickering until my drink was done, then made my farewells and took my leave of them.

Half an hour later I stood on the stairway outside Devi’s door, trying to ignore the rancid smell of the butcher’s shop below. I counted my money for the third time and thought about my options. I could pay off my entire debt and still afford my tuition, but it would leave me penniless. I had other debts to settle as well, and as much as I wanted to be out from under Devi’s thumb, I didn’t relish starting the semester without a bit of coin in my pocket. The door opened suddenly, startling me. Devi’s face peered out suspiciously through a narrow crack, then brightened with a smile when she recognized me. “What are you lurking for?” she asked. “Gentlemen knock, as a rule.” She opened the door wide to let me in.

“Just weighing my options,” I said as she bolted the door behind me. Her room was much the same as before save that today it smelled of cinnamon, not lavender. “I hope I won’t be inconveniencing you if I only pay the interest this term?”

“Not at all,” she said graciously. “I like to think of it as an investment on my part.” She gestured me toward a chair. “Besides, it means I get to see you again. You’d be surprised how few visitors I get.”

“It’s probably your location more than your company,” I said.

She wrinkled her nose. “I know. I settled here at first because it was cheap. Now I feel obliged to stay because my customers know to find me here.”

I laid two talents on the desk and slid them toward her. “Do you mind a question?”

She gave me a look of impish excitement. “Is it inappropriate?”

“A bit,” I admitted. “Has anyone ever tried to report you?”

“Well now,” she sat forward in her chair. “That can be taken a number of different ways.” She raised an eyebrow over one icy blue eye. “Are you being threatening, or curious?”

“Curious,” I said quickly.

“I tell you what.” She nodded at my lute. “Play me a song and I’ll tell you the truth.”

I smiled and unlatched the case, drawing out my lute. “What would you like to hear?”

She thought for a minute. “Can you play ‘Leave the Town, Tinker’?”

I played it, quick and easy. She came in enthusiastically on the chorus, and at the end she smiled and clapped like a young girl.

Which, in hindsight, I guess she was. Back then she was an older woman, experienced and self-sure. I, on the other hand, was not quite sixteen.

“Once,” she answered as I put my lute away. “Two years ago a young gentleman E’lir decided it would be better to inform the constable than to settle his debt.”

I looked up at her. “And?”

“And that was it.” She shrugged carelessly. “They came, asked me questions, searched the place. Didn’t find anything incriminating, of course.”

“Of course.”

“The next day the young gentleman admitted the truth to the constable. He had made the whole story up because I had spurned his romantic advances.” She grinned. “The constable was not amused, and the gentleman was fined for slanderous action against a lady of the town.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “I can’t say as I’m terribly ...” I trailed off, noticing something for the first time. I pointed at her bookshelf. “Is that Malcaf’s The Basis of All Matter?”

“Oh yes,” she said proudly. “It’s new. A partial repayment.” She gestured toward the shelf. “Feel free.”

I walked over and pulled it out. “If I’d had this to study from, I wouldn’t have missed one of the questions during admissions today”