Patrick Rothfuss - The Name of the Wind

Mola was silent for a while. “You’re serious.” I felt around in the dark under the grate, trying to figure out how Auri kept it closed. “What sort of person would live down there?”

“A frightened person,” I said. “A person who’s afraid of loud noises, and people, and the open sky. It took me nearly a month to coax her out of the tunnels, let alone get close enough to talk.”

Mola sighed. “If you don’t mind I’ll have a seat.” She walked over to the bench. “I’ve been on my feet all day.”

I continued to feel around under the grate, but try as I might, I couldn’t find a clasp anywhere. Growing increasingly frustrated, I grabbed the grate and tugged on it hard, again and again. It made several echoing metallic thumps but didn’t come free.

“Kvothe?” I looked up to the edge of the roof and saw Auri standing there, a silhouette against the night sky, her fine hair made a cloud around her head.

“Auri!” The tension poured out of me, leaving me feeling weak and rubbery. “Where have you been?”

“There were clouds,” she said simply as she walked around the edge of the roof toward the apple tree. “So I went looking for you on top of things. But the moon’s coming out, so I came back.”

Auri scampered down the tree, then pulled up short when she saw Mola’s cloaked form sitting on the bench.

“I brought a friend to visit, Auri,” I said in my gentlest tones. “I hope you don’t mind.”

There was a long pause. “Is he nice?”

“It’s a she. And yes, she’s nice.”

Auri relaxed a bit and came a few steps closer to me. “I brought you a feather with the spring wind in it, but since you were late . . .” she looked at me gravely, “you get a coin instead.” She held it out at arm’s length, pinched between her thumb and forefinger. “It will keep you safe at night. As much as anything can, that is.” It was shaped like an Aturan penance piece, but it gleamed silver in the moonlight. I’d never seen a coin like it.

Kneeling, I opened my lute case and brought out a small bundle. “I’ve got some tomatoes, beans, and something special.” I held out the small sack I’d spent most of my money on two days ago, before all my troubles had started. “Sea salt.”

Auri took it, and peered inside the small leather sack. “Why this is lovely, Kvothe. What lives in the salt?”

Trace minerals, I thought. Chromium, bassal, malium, iodine . . . everything your body needs but probably can’t get from apples and bread and whatever you manage to scrounge up when I can’t find you.

“The dreams of fish,” I said. “And sailor’s songs.”

Auri nodded, satisfied, and sat down, spreading out the small cloth and arranging her food with the same care as always. I watched her as she began to eat, dipping a green bean into the salt before taking a bite. She didn’t seem hurt, but it was hard to tell by the pale moonlight. I needed to be sure. “Are you okay, Auri?”

She cocked her head at me, curious.

“There was a big fire. A lot of it went down the grates. Did you see it?”

“Holy God, yes,” she said, her eyes wide. “It was all over, and all the shrews and raccoons were running everyway, trying to get out.”

“Did any of it get on you?” I asked. “Did you get burned?”

She shook her head, grinning a child’s sly smile. “Oh no. It couldn’t catch me.”

“Were you close to the fire?” I asked. “Did you breathe any of the smoke?”

“Why would I breathe smoke?” Auri looked at me as if I were simple. “The whole Underthing smells like cat piss now.” She wrinkled her nose. “Except by Downing and in the Belows.”

I relaxed a bit, but I saw Mola begin to fidget where she was sitting on the bench. “Auri, can my friend come over?”

Auri froze with a bean halfway to her mouth, then relaxed and bobbed her head once, sending her fine hair swirling around her.

I beckoned to Mola who began to walk slowly toward us. I was a little uneasy at how their meeting would go. It had taken me over a month of gentle coaxing to draw Auri out from the tunnels underneath the University where she lived. I worried that a bad reaction from Mola might startle her back underground where I would have no chance of finding her.

I gestured to where Mola stood. “This is my friend Mola.”

“Hello, Mola.” Auri looked up and smiled. “You have sunny hair like me. Would you like an apple?”

Mola’s expression was carefully blank. “Thank you, Auri. I’d like that.”

Auri jumped up and ran back to where the apple tree overhung the edge of the roof. Then ran back toward us, her hair flying behind her like a flag. She handed Mola an apple. “This one has a wish inside it,” she said matter-of-factly. “Make sure you know what you want before you take a bite.” That said, she settled back down and ate another bean, chewing primly.

Mola looked over the apple for a long moment before taking a bite.

Auri finished her meal quickly after that, and tied up the bag of salt. “Now play!” she said, excited. “Play!”

Smiling, I brought out my lute and brushed my hands over the strings. Thankfully my injured thumb was on my chording hand, where it would be a relatively minor inconvenience.

I looked at Mola as I tuned the strings. “You can go if you like,” I told her. “I wouldn’t want to accidentally serenade you.”

“Oh you musn’t go.” Auri turned to Mola, her expression deathly serious. “His voice is like a thunderstorm, and his hands know every secret hidden deep beneath the cool, dark earth.”

Mola’s mouth quirked into a smile. “I suppose I could stay for that.”

So I played for both of them, while overhead the stars continued in their measured turning.

“Why haven’t you told anyone?” Mola asked me as we made our way across the rooftops.

“It didn’t seem like anyone’s business,” I said. “If she wanted people to know she was there, I imagine she’d tell them herself.”

“You know what I mean,” Mola said, irritated.

“I know what you mean,” I sighed. “But what good would come of it? She’s happy where she is.”

“Happy?” Mola sounded incredulous. “She’s ragged and half-starved. She needs help. Food and clothes.”

“I bring her food,” I said. “And I’ll bring her clothes too, as soon . . .” I hesitated, not wanting to admit my abject poverty, at least not in so many words. “As soon as I can manage it.”

“Why wait? If you just told someone . . .”

“Right,” I said sarcastically. “I’m sure Jamison would rush out here with a box of chocolates and a featherbed if he knew there was a starveling half-cracked student living under his University. They’d crock her and you know it.”

“Not necessarily . . .” She didn’t even bother finishing, knowing what I’d said was true.

“Mola, if people come looking for her, she’ll just rabbit down into the tunnels. They’ll scare her away and I’ll lose what chance I have to help her.”

Mola looked down at me, her arms folded across her chest. “Fine. For now. But you’ll have to bring me back here later. I’ll bring her some of my clothes. They’ll be too big for her, but they’ll be better than what she has.”

I shook my head. “It won’t work. I brought her a secondhand dress a couple span ago. She says wearing someone else’s clothes is filthy.”

Mola looked puzzled. “She didn’t look Cealdish. Not even a little.”

“Maybe she was just raised that way.”

“Do you feel any better?”

“Yes,” I lied.

“You’re shaking.” She stretched out a hand. “Here, lean on me.”

Pulling my new cloak close around me, I took her arm and made my slow way back to Anker’s.