The Name of the Wind

I remembered what Sim had said about Deoch not a span ago. He’s managed to get the most beautiful woman in the place again. It’s enough to make you hate a man. “I’ve always felt she was rather lonely,” I volunteered. “Maybe that’s why.”

Deoch nodded solemnly. “There’s truth to that. I never see her in the company of other womenfolk, and she has about as much luck with men as ...” He paused, groping for a comparison. “As ... damn.” He gave a frustrated sigh.

“Well, you know what they say: Finding the right analogy is as hard as ...” I put on a thoughtful expression. “As hard as ...” I made an inarticulate grasping gesture.

Deoch laughed and poured more wine for both of us. I began to relax. There is a sort of camaraderie that rarely exists except between men who have fought the same enemies and known the same women. “Did she tend to disappear back then, too?” I asked.

He nodded. “No warning, just suddenly gone. Sometimes for a span. Sometimes for months.”

“ ‘No fickleness in flight like that of wind or women’s fancy,’ ” I quoted. I meant it to be musing, but it came out bitter. “Do you have any guess as to why?”

“I’ve given some thought to that,” Deoch said philosophically. “In part I think it is her nature. It could be she simply has wandering blood.”

My irritation cooled a bit at his words. Back in my troupe, my father occasionally made us pull up stakes and leave a town despite the fact that we were welcome and the crowds were generous. Later, he would often explain his reasoning to me: a glare from the constable, too many fond sighs from the young wives in town....

But sometimes he had no reason. We Ruh are meant to travel, son. When my blood tells me to wander, I know enough to trust it.

“Her circumstances are probably responsible for most of it,” Deoch continued.

“Circumstances?” I asked, curious. She never talked of her past when we were together, and I was always careful not to press her. I knew what it was like, not wanting to talk too much about your past.

“Well, she doesn’t have any family or means of support. No long-standing friends able to help her out of a tight spot if the need arises.”

“I haven’t got any of those things either,” I groused, the wine making me a little surly.

“There’s more than a little difference there,” Deoch said with a hint of reproach. “A man has a great many opportunities to make his way in the world. You’ve found yourself a place at the University, and if you hadn’t you would still have options.” He looked at me with a knowing eye. “What options are available to a young, pretty girl with no family? No dowry? No home?”

He began to hold up fingers. “There’s begging and whoring. Or being some lord’s mistress, which is a different slice of the same loaf. And we know our Denna doesn’t have it in her to be a kept woman or someone’s dox.”

“There’s other work to be had,” I said holding up fingers of my own. “Seamstress, weaver, serving girl ...”

Deoch snorted and gave me a disgusted look. “Come now lad, you’re smarter than that. You know what those places are like. And you know that a pretty girl with no family ends up being taken advantage of just as often as a whore, and paid less for her trouble.”

I flushed a bit at his rebuke, more than I would have normally, as I was feeling the wine. It was making my lips and the tips of my fingers a little numb.

Deoch filled our glasses again. “She’s not to be looked down on for moving where the wind blows her. She has to take her opportunities where she finds them. If she gets the chance to travel with some folk who like her singing, or with a merchant who hopes her pretty face will help him sell his wares, who’s to blame her for pulling up stakes and leaving town?

“And if she trades on her charm a bit, I’ll not look down on her because of it. Young gents court her, buy her presents, dresses, jewelry.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “If she sells those things for money to live, there’s nothing wrong in that. They are gifts freely given, and hers to do with as she pleases.”

Deoch fixed me with a stare. “But what is she to do when some gent gets too familiar? Or gets angry at being denied what he considers bought and paid for? What recourse does she have? No family, no friends, no standing. No choice. None but to give herself over to him, all unwilling....” Deoch’s face was grim. “Or to leave. Leave quickly and find better weather. Is it any surprise then that she is harder to lay hands on than a windblown leaf?”