The Name of the Wind

I opened my mouth to retort. Then, seeing her dancing eyes, I pressed my lips together and tried to fight down my embarrassed flush. She lay a hand on my arm. “Don’t go quiet on my account, Kvothe,” she said gently. “I’d miss the sound of your voice.”

She took a drink of wine. “Anyway, you shouldn’t bother wondering. You spoke them to me when first we met. You said, I was just wondering why you’re here.” She made a flippant gesture. “From that moment I was yours.”

My mind flashed back to our first meeting in Roent’s caravan. I was stunned. “I didn’t think you remembered.”

She paused in tearing a piece of dark bread away from the loaf and looked up at me quizzically. “Remember what?”

“Remembered me. Remembered our meeting in Roent’s caravan.”

“Come now,” she teased. “How could I forget the red-haired boy who left me for the University?”

I was too stunned to point out that I hadn’t left her. Not really. “You never mentioned it.”

“Neither did you,” she countered. “Perhaps I thought that you had forgotten me.”

“Forget you? How could I?”

She smiled at that, but looked down at her hands. “You might be surprised what men forget,” she said, then lightened her tone. “But then again, perhaps not. I don’t doubt that you’ve forgotten things, being a man yourself.”

“I remember your name, Denna.” It sounded good to say it to her. “Why did you take a new one? Or was Denna just the name that you were wearing on the road to Anilin?”

“Denna,” she said softly. “I’d almost forgotten her. She was a silly girl.”

“She was like a flower unfolding.”

“I stopped being Denna years ago, it seems.” She rubbed her bare arms and looked around as if she was suddenly uneasy that someone might find us here.

“Should I call you Dianne, then? Would you like it better?”

The wind stirred the hanging branches of the willow as she cocked her head to look at me. Her hair mimicked the motion of the trees. “You are kind. I think I like Denna best from you. It sounds different when you say it. Gentle.”

“Denna it is,” I said firmly. “What happened in Anilin, anyway?”

A leaf floated down and landed in her hair. She brushed it away absent-mindedly. “Nothing pleasant,” she said, avoiding my eyes. “But nothing unexpected either.”

I held out my hand and she passed me back the loaf of bread. “Well I’m glad you made it back,” I said. “My Aloine.”

She made a decidedly unladylike noise. “Please, if either of us is Savien, it’s me. I’m the one that came looking for you,” she pointed out. “Twice.”

“I look,” I protested. “I just don’t seem to have a knack for finding you.” She rolled her eyes dramatically “If you could recommend an auspicious time and place to look for you, it would make a world of difference....” I trailed off gently, making it a question. “Perhaps tomorrow?”

Denna gave me a sideways glance, smiling. “You’re always so cautious,” she said. “I’ve never known a man to step so carefully.” She looked at my face as if it were a puzzle she could solve. “I expect noon would be an auspicious time tomorrow. At the Eolian.”

I felt a warm glow at the thought of meeting her again. “I was just wondering why you’re here,” I mused aloud, remembering the conversation that seemed so long ago. “You called me a liar, afterward.”

She leaned forward to touch my hand in a consoling way. She smelled of strawberry, and her lips were a dangerous red even in the moonlight. “How well I knew you, even then.”

We talked through the long hours of night. I spoke subtle circles around the way I felt, not wanting to be overbold. I thought she might be doing the same, but I could never be sure. It was like we were doing one of those elaborate Modegan court dances, where the partners stand scant inches apart, but—if they are skilled—never touch.

Such was our conversation. But not only were we lacking touch to guide us, it was as if we were also strangely deaf. So we danced very carefully, unsure what music the other was listening to, unsure, perhaps, if the other was dancing at all.

Deoch was standing vigil at the door, same as always. He waved to see me. “Master Kvothe. I’m afraid you’ve missed your friends.”

“I thought I might’ve. How long have they been gone?”

“Only an hour.” He stretched his arms above his head, grimacing. Then let them fall to his sides with a weary sigh.

“Did they seem put out that I abandoned them?”

He grinned. “Not terribly They happened on a couple lovelies of their own. Not as lovely as yours, of course.” He looked uncomfortable for a moment, then spoke slowly as if he were picking his words with great care. “Look, s ... Kvothe. I know it’s not my place, and I hope you don’t take it wrong.” He looked around and suddenly spat. “Damn. I’m no good at this sort of thing.”