The Name of the Wind

“So he’s secretive?” I prompted gently, worried that the silence would soon become uncomfortable.

“Secretive doesn’t cover it by half,” Denna said, rolling her eyes. “Once a woman offered me money for information about him. I played dumb, and later when I told him about it he said it had been a test to see how much I could be trusted. Another time some men threatened me. I’m guessing that was another test.”

The fellow sounded rather sinister to me, like a fugitive from the law or someone hiding from his family. I was about to say so when I saw Denna looking at me anxiously. She was worried, worried that I would think less of her for pandering to the whimsy of some paranoid lordling.

I thought about my talk with Deoch, about the fact that, hard as my lot was, hers was undoubtedly harder. What would I put up with if I could win a powerful noble’s patronage? What would I go though to find someone who would give me money for lute strings, see that I was dressed and fed, and protect me from vicious little bastards like Ambrose?

I bit back my previous comments and gave her a knowing grin. “He’d better be rich enough to be worth your trouble,” I said. “Bags of money. Pots of it.”

Her mouth quirked up at the corner, and I felt her body relax, glad that I wasn’t judging her. “Well that would be telling, now, wouldn’t it?” Her eyes danced, saying: yes.

“He’s the reason I’m here,” she continued. “He told me to show up at this wedding. It’s a lot more rural than I expected, but ...” She shrugged again, a silent comment about the inexplicable desires of the nobility. “I expected my patron-to-be to be there—” She stopped, laughing. “Did that even make any sense?”

“Just make up a name for him,” I suggested.

“You pick one,” she said. “Don’t they teach you about names at the University?”

“Annabelle,” I suggested.

“I will not,” she said, laughing, “refer to my potential patron as Annabelle.”

“The Duke of Richmoney”

“Now you’re just being flippant. Try again.”

“Just tell me when I hit one you like ... Federick the Flippant. Frank. Feran. Forue. Fordale....”

She shook her head at me as we climbed the crest of the hill. As we finally reached the top, the wind gusted past us. Denna gripped my arm for balance and I held up a hand to shield my eyes from dust and leaves. I coughed in surprise as the wind forced a leaf straight into my mouth, causing me to choke and splutter.

Denna thought this was particularly funny “Fine,” I said, as I fished the leaf out of my mouth. It was yellow, shaped like a spearhead. “The wind has decided for us. Master Ash.”

“Are you sure it isn’t Master Elm?” she asked, eyeing the leaf. “It’s a common mistake.”

“Tastes like an ash,” I said. “Besides, elm is feminine.”

She nodded seriously, though her eyes were dancing. “Ash it is then.”

As we made it out of the trees and over the top of the hill the wind gusted again, pelting us with more debris before it died down. Denna took a step away from me, muttering and rubbing at her eyes. The part of my arm where her hand had rested suddenly felt very cold.

“Black hands,” she said, scrubbing at her face. “I’ve got chaff in my eyes.” “Not chaff,” I said, looking across the top of the hill. Not fifty feet away was a cluster of charred buildings that must have once been the Mauthen farm. “Ash.”

I led Denna to a little stand of trees that blocked the wind and the sight of the farm. I gave her my water bottle and we sat on a fallen tree, resting as she rinsed her eyes clean.

“You know,” I said hesitantly, “you don’t need to go over there. I could look for your things if you tell me where you left them.”

Her eyes narrowed a little. “I can’t tell if you’re being considerate or condescending....”

“I don’t know what you saw last night. So I don’t know how delicate I should be.”

“I don’t need much delicacy, as a rule,” she said shortly. “I’m no blushing daisy”

“Daisies don’t blush.”

Denna looked at me, blinking her red eyes.

“You’re probably thinking of ‘shrinking violet’ or ‘blushing virgin.’ Either way, daisies are white. They can’t blush....”

“That,” she said flatly, “was condescending.”

“Well, I thought I’d let you know what it looked like,” I said. “For comparison. So there’s less confusion when I’m trying to be considerate.”

We stared at each other for a bit, eventually she looked away, rubbing at her eyes. “Fair enough,” she admitted. She tilted her head back and splashed more water onto her face, blinking furiously.

“I really didn’t see much,” she said as she daubed her face on her shirtsleeve. “I played before the wedding, then again while they were getting ready for supper. I kept expecting my ...” she gave a faint smile, “... Master Ash to make an appearance, but I knew I couldn’t dare ask about him. For all I knew, the whole thing was another test of his.”