Patrick Rothfuss - The Name of the Wind

“Me too.” Bast turned to face Kvothe, his face bright and eager. “I want to know what you found under the University.”

Kvothe gave a shadow of a smile. “I supposed you would, Bast.” He came to the table and took a seat. “Underneath the University, I found what I had wanted most, yet it was not what I expected.” He motioned for Chronicler to pick up his pen. “As is often the case when you gain your heart’s desire.”

The next day I was whipped in the wide cobblestone courtyard that used to be called the Quoyan Hayel. The House of the Wind. I found it oddly appropriate.

As predicted, there was an impressive crowd for the event. Hundreds of students filled the courtyard to overflowing. They peered out of windows and doorways. A few even found their way onto the rooftops for a better view. I don’t blame them, really. Free entertainment is hard to pass by.

I was lashed six times, singly, across the back. Not wanting to disappoint, I gave them something to talk about. A repeat performance. I did not cry out, or bleed, or faint. I left the courtyard walking on my own two feet with my head held high.

After Mola laid fifty-seven tidy stitches across my back, I found consolation in a journey to Imre where I spent Ambrose’s money on an extraordinarily fine lute, two nice sets of used clothing for me, a small bottle of my own blood, and a warm new dress for Auri.

It was, all in all, a very pleasant afternoon.

Every night I went exploring underground with Auri. I saw many interesting things, some of which may bear mentioning later, but for now suffice to say that she showed me all the vast and varied corners of the Underthing. She took me to Downings, Vaults, the Woods, Delving, Cricklet, Tenners, Candlebear. . . .

The names she gave them, nonsensical at first, fit like a glove when I finally saw what they described. The Woods didn’t resemble a forest in any way. It was just a series of crumbling halls and rooms where ceilings were propped up with thick wooden support beams. Cricklet had a tiny trickle of fresh water running down one wall. The moisture attracted crickets, who filled the long low room with their tiny songs. Vaults was a narrow hallway with three deep cracks running across the floor. I only understood the name after watching Auri jump all three in quick secession to make it to the other end.

It was several days before Auri took me to Belows, a maze of intersecting tunnels. Despite the fact that we were at least a hundred feet below ground, they were filled with a steady, rushing wind that smelled of dust and leather.

The wind was the clue I needed. It let me know I was close to finding what I’d come here looking for. Still, it bothered me that I didn’t understand the name of this place, I knew I must be missing something.

“Why do you call this Belows?” I asked Auri.

“That’s its name,” she said easily. The wind made her fine hair stream out behind her like a gauzy pennant. “You call things by their names. That’s what names are for.”

I smiled despite myself. “Why does it have that name? Isn’t everything here ‘below?’ ”

She turned to look at me, head cocked to one side. Her hair blew around her face and she brushed it back with her hands. “It’s not belows ,” she said. “It’s belows .”

I couldn’t hear the distinction. “Blows?” I asked puffing out my cheeks as if blowing out air.

Auri laughed, delighted. “That’s a piece.” She grinned. “Try for more.”

I tried to think of what else made sense. “Bellows?” I made a gesture with both arms as if working a forge bellows.

Auri thought about that for a moment, looking up and tilting her head back and forth. “That’s not as good. This is a quiet place.” She reached out a small hand and took hold of the edge of my cloak, pulling it out to the side so the slow wind caught it, filling it like a sail.

Auri looked up at me, grinning as if she’d just done a magic trick.

Billows . Of course. I grinned back, laughing.

That minor mystery put to rest, Auri and I began a meticulous investigation of Billows. After several hours I began to get a feel for the place, an understanding of which way I needed to go. It was just a matter of finding the tunnel that led there.

It was maddening. The tunnels twisted, leading in wide, unhelpful detours. Those rare times when I found a tunnel that stayed true to its course, the way was blocked. Several passages turned straight up or straight down, leaving me with no way to follow them. One passage had thick iron bars driven deep into the surrounding stone, blocking the way. Another grew steadily narrower until it was barely a handspan across. A third ended with a cave-in of tangled wood and soil.

After days of searching, we finally found an ancient moldering door. The damp wood crumbled to pieces when I tried to open it.

Auri wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “I’ll skin my knees.”

Shining my sympathy lamp past the ruined door, I saw what she meant. The room beyond slanted down until the ceiling was only three feet high.

“Will you wait for me?” I asked her as I took off my cloak and cuffed up my shirtsleeves. “I don’t know if I can find my way up to the top without you.”

Auri nodded, looking worried. “Ins are easier than outs, you know. There’s tight places. You can get stuck.”

I was trying not to think of that. “I’m just going for a look. I’ll be back in half an hour.”

She cocked her head. “What if you’re not?”

I smiled. “You’ll have to come and rescue me.”

She nodded, her face as solemn as an earnest child.

I put my sympathy lamp in my mouth, shining the red light out against the pitch blackness in front of me. Then I got down on all fours and headed forward, my knees rubbing against the rough stone of the floor.

After several turnings, the ceiling went lower still, too low for crawling. After a long moment of consideration, I dropped to my belly and pressed on, pushing my lamp ahead of me. Each twist of my body pulled at the rows of stitches all across my back.

If you have never been deep underground, I doubt you can understand what it is like. The darkness is absolute, almost tangible. It lurks outside the light, waiting to rush in like a sudden flood. The air is still and stale. There’s no noise except what you make yourself. Your breathing becomes loud in your own ears. Your heart thumps. And all the while there is the overwhelming knowledge that thousands of tons of earth and stone are pressing down above you.

Still I continued to worm my way ahead, moving by inches. My hands were grimy, and sweat dripped into my eyes. The crawlway grew smaller yet, and I foolishly let one of my arms get pinned to my side. Cold sweat burst out across my whole body as I panicked. I struggled, trying to get it stretched out in front of me. . . .

After several terrifying minutes I managed to get my arm free. Then, after lying there for a moment, trembling in the dark, I pressed ahead.

And found what I’d been looking for. . . .

After emerging from the Underthing, I made my careful way through a window and a locked door into the women’s wing of the Mews. I knocked softly on Fela’s door, not wanting to wake anyone accidentally. Men were not allowed unescorted in the women’s wing of the Mews, especially not during the late hours of night.

I knocked three times before I heard a gentle stirring in her room. After a moment, Fela opened the door, her long hair in wild disarray. Her eyes were still half-closed as she peered into the hallway with a puzzled expression. She blinked when she saw me standing there, as if she hadn’t really expected anyone.