Patrick Rothfuss - The Name of the Wind

Denna laughed suddenly. “Did I call your face a sugar bowl or something?” she asked, peering at me. “Am I even making any sense right now?”

“It’s just a little delirium,” I reassured her. “You’ll fade in and out of it before you go to sleep.”

“I hope it’s as much fun for you as it is for me,” she said pulling the blanket closer around herself. “It’s like a cottony dream, but not as warm.”

I climbed the ladder to the top of the greystone where we had stashed our possessions. I took a handful of the denner resin out of the oilskin sack, carried it down, and threw it on the edge of the fire. It burned sullenly, giving off an acrid smoke that the wind brushed away to the north and west, toward the unseen bluffs. Hopefully the draccus would smell it and come running.

“I had pneumonia when I was just a tiny baby,” Denna said with no particular inflection. “That’s why my lungs aren’t good. It’s horrible not being able to breathe sometimes.”

Denna’s eyes were half closed as she continued, almost as if she were talking to herself. “I stopped breathing for two minutes and died. Sometimes I wonder if this all isn’t some sort of mistake, if I should be dead. But if it isn’t a mistake I have to be here for a reason. But if there is a reason, I don’t know what that reason is.”

There was the distinct possibility that she didn’t even realize that she was talking, and an even greater possibility that most of the important parts of her brain were already asleep and she wouldn’t remember any of what was happening now in the morning. Since I didn’t know how to respond, I simply nodded.

“That’s the first thing you said to me. I was just wondering why you’re here. My seven words. I’ve been wondering the same thing for so long.”

The sun, already hidden by the clouds, finally set behind the western mountains. As the landscape faded into darkness, the top of this small hill felt like an island in a great ocean of night.

Denna was beginning to nod where she sat, her head slowly sinking to her chest, then bobbing back up. I walked over and held out my hand. “Come on, the draccus will be here soon. We should get up onto the stones.”

She nodded and came to her feet, blankets still wrapped around her. I followed her to the ladder and she made her slow, stumbling way up to the top of the greystone.

It was chilly up on the stone, away from the fire. The wind brushed past, making the slight chill worse. I spread one blanket across the stone and she sat down, huddled in the other blanket. The cold seemed to rouse her a little and she looked around peevishly, shivering. “Damn chicken. Come eat your dinner. I’m cold.”

“I was hoping to have you tucked into a warm bed in Trebon by now,” I admitted. “So much for my brilliant plan.”

“You always know where you’re doing,” she said muzzily. “You’re important with your green eyes looking at me like I mean something. It’s okay that you have better things to do. It’s enough that I get you sometimes. Once in a while. I know I’m lucky for that, to get you just a little.”

I nodded agreeably, as I watched the hillside for signs of the draccus. We sat for a while longer, staring off into the dark. Denna nodded a little, then pulled herself upright again and fought off another violent shiver. “I know you don’t think of me . . .” She trailed off.

It’s best to humor people in delirium, lest they turn violent. “I think about you all the time, Denna,” I said.

“Don’t patronize me,” she said crossly, then her tone softened again. “You don’t think of me like that. That’s fine. But if you’re cold too, you could come over here and put your arms around me. Just a little.”

My heart in my mouth, I moved closer and sat behind her, wrapping my arms around her. “That’s nice,” she said, relaxing. “I feel like I’ve always been cold.”

We sat looking to the north. She leaned against me, delightful in my arms. I drew shallow breaths, not wanting to disturb her.

Denna stirred slightly, murmuring. “You’re so gentle. You never push. . . .” She trailed off again, resting more heavily against my chest. Then she roused herself. “You could, you know, push more. Just a little.”

I sat there in the dark, holding her sleeping body in my arms. She was soft and warm, indescribably precious. I had never held a woman before. After a few moments my back began to ache with the pressure of supporting her weight and my own. My leg started to go numb. Her hair tickled my nose. Still, I didn’t move for fear of ruining this, the most wonderful moment of my life.

Denna shifted in her sleep, then started to slide sideways and jerked awake. “Lie down,” she said, her voice clear again. She fumbled with the blanket, pulling it away so it was no longer between us. “Come on. You’ve got to be cold too. You’re not a priest, so you’re not going to get in trouble for it. We’ll be fine. Just a little fine in the cold.”

I put my arms around her and she draped the blanket over both of us.

We lay on our sides, like spoons nesting in a drawer. My arm ended up under her head, like a pillow. She curled snugly along the inside of my body, so easy and natural, as if she had been designed to fit there.

As I lay there, I realized I had been wrong before, this was the most wonderful moment of my life.

Denna stirred in her sleep. “I know you didn’t mean it,” she said clearly.

“Mean what?” I asked softly. Her voice was different, no longer dreamy and tired. I wondered if she was talking in her sleep.

“Before. You said you’d knock me down and make me eat coals. You’d never hit me.” She turned her head a little. “You wouldn’t, would you? Not even if it was for my own good?”

I felt a chill go through me. “What do you mean?”

There was a long pause, and I was beginning to think she’d fallen asleep when she spoke up again. “I didn’t tell you everything. I know Ash didn’t die at the farm. When I was heading toward the fire he found me. He came back and said that everyone was dead. He said that people would be suspicious if I was the only one who survived. . . .”

I felt a hard, dark anger rise up in me. I knew what came next, but I let her talk. I didn’t want to hear it, but I knew she needed to tell someone.

“He didn’t just do it out of the blue,” she said. “He made sure it was what I really wanted. I knew it wouldn’t look convincing if I did it to myself. He made sure I really wanted him to. He made me ask him to hit me. Just to be sure.

“And he was right.” She didn’t move at all as she spoke. “Even this way they thought I had something to do with it. If he hadn’t done it, I might be in jail right now. They would’ve hanged me.”

My stomach churned acid. “Denna,” I said. “A man who could do that to you—he’s not worth your time. Not one moment of it. It’s not a matter of him being only half a loaf. He’s rotten through. You deserve better.”

“Who knows what I deserve?” she said. “He’s not my best loaf. He’s it. Him or hungry.”

“You have other options,” I said, then stalled, thinking of my conversation with Deoch. “You’ve . . . you’ve got . . .”

“I’ve got you,” she said dreamily. I could hear the warm, sleepy smile in her voice, like a child tucked into bed. “Will you be my dark-eyed Prince Gallant and protect me from pigs? Sing to me? Whisk me away to tall trees. . . .” she trailed off to nothing.

“I will,” I said, but I could tell by the heavy weight of her against my arm that she had finally fallen asleep.

I lay awake, feeling Denna’s gentle breath against my arm. I couldn’t have slept even if I’d wanted to. The closeness of her filled me with a crackling energy, a low warmth, a gentle thrumming hum. I lay awake savoring it, every moment precious as a jewel.