Patrick Rothfuss - The Name of the Wind

Wilem gave me a flat look. “ That’s your girl?” he asked, his voice thick with disbelief.

“Deoch’s girl,” Simmon amended gently.

It seemed to be the case. Handsome, muscular Deoch was talking to her in that easy way he had. Denna laughed and put an arm around him in a casual embrace. I felt a heavy weight settle in my chest as I watched them talk.

Then Deoch turned and pointed. She followed his gesture, met my eyes, and lit up as she smiled at me. I returned the smile by reflex alone. My heart began to beat again. I waved her over. After a quick word to Deoch she began to make her way through the crowd toward us.

I took a quick drink of scutten as Simmon turned to look at me with an almost reverent disbelief.

I had never seen Denna dressed in anything other than traveling clothes. But tonight she was wearing a dark green dress that left her arms and shoulders bare. She was stunning. She knew it. She smiled.

The three of us stood as she approached. “I was hoping to find you here,” she said.

I gave a small bow. “I was hoping to be found. These are two of my best friends. Simmon.” Sim smiled sunnily and brushed his hair away from his eyes. “And Wilem.” Wil nodded. “This is Dianne.”

She lounged into a chair. “What brings such a group of handsome young men out on the town tonight?”

“We’re plotting the downfall of our enemies,” Simmon said.

“And celebrating,” I hurried to add.

Wilem raised his glass in a salute. “Confusion to the enemy.”

Simmon and I followed suit, but I stopped when I remembered Denna didn’t have a glass. “I’m sorry,” I said. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“I was hoping you would buy me dinner,” she said. “But I would feel guilty about stealing you away from your friends.”

My mind raced as I tried to think of a tactful way to extricate myself.

“You’re making the assumption that we want him here,” Wilem said with a straight face. “You’d do us a favor if you took him away.”

Denna leaned forward intently, a smile brushing the pink corners of her mouth. “Really?”

Wilem nodded gravely. “He drinks even more than he talks.”

She darted a teasing look at me. “That much?”

“Besides,” Simmon chimed in innocently. “He’d sulk for days if he missed a chance to be with you. He’ll be completely worthless to us if you leave him here.”

My face grew hot and I had the sudden urge to throttle Sim. Denna laughed sweetly. “I suppose I’d better take him then.” She stood with a motion like a willow wand bending to the wind and offered me her hand. I took it. “I hope to see you again, Wilem, Simmon.”

They waved and we started to make our way to the door. “I like them,” she said. “Wilem is a stone in deep water. Simmon is like a boy splashing in a brook.”

Her description startled a laugh from me. “I couldn’t have said it better. You mentioned dinner?”

“I lied,” she said with an easy delight. “But I would love the drink you offered me.”

“How about the Taps?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Too many old men, not enough trees. It is a good night to be out of doors.”

I gestured toward the door. “Lead the way.”

She did. I basked in her reflected light and the stares of envious men. As we left the Eolian, even Deoch looked a little jealous. But as I passed him I caught a glimmer of something other in his eye. Sadness? Pity?

I spared no time for it. I was with Denna.

We bought a loaf of dark bread and a bottle of Avennish strawberry wine. Then found a private place in one of the many public gardens scattered throughout Imre. The first of autumn’s falling leaves danced along the streets beside us. Denna removed her shoes and danced lightly through the shadows, delighting in the feel of the grass beneath her feet.

We settled on a bench beneath a great spreading willow, then abandoned it and found more comfortable seats on the ground at the foot of the tree. The bread was thick and dark, and tearing chunks of it gave us distraction for our hands. The wine was sweet and light, and after Denna kissed the bottle it left her lips wet for an hour.

It had the desperate feel of the last warm night of summer. We spoke of everything and nothing, and all the while I could hardly breathe for the nearness of her, the way she moved, the sound of her voice as it touched the autumn air.

“Your eyes were far away just then,” she said. “What were you thinking?”

I shrugged, buying a moment to think. I couldn’t tell her the truth. I knew every man must compliment her, bury her in flattery more cloying than roses. I took a subtler path. “One of the masters at the University once told me that there were seven words that would make a woman love you.” I made a deliberately casual shrug. “I was just wondering what they were.”

“Is that why you talk so much? Hoping to come on them by accident?”

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?”