Kvothe’s eyes widened. “Bast,” he said. “You shouldn’t—”
Bast made a sharp gesture with one hand, his eyes still hard. “I did not ask for your opinion, Reshi.”
The innkeeper looked down, uncomfortable. “It’s more than you should do, Bast.”
The dark young man reached out and laid a gentle hand on the side of his master’s face. For a moment he looked tired, weary through to the bone. Bast shook his head slowly, wearing an expression of bemused dismay. “You are an idiot, Reshi.”
Bast drew his hand back, and the weariness was gone. He pointed across the bar where Chronicler stood watching. “Bring the food.” He pointed at Kvothe. “Tell the story.”
Then he spun on his heel, walked back to his chair by the hearth, and lowered himself into it as if it were a throne. He clapped his hands twice, sharply. “Entertain me!” he said with a wide, mad smile. And even from where the others stood near the bar, they could see the blood on his teeth.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-SEVEN
Questions
While the mayor of Levinshir seemed to approve of how I’d handled the false troupers, I knew matters weren’t as simple as that. According to the iron law, I was guilty of at least three egregious crimes, any one of which would be enough to see me hanged.
Unfortunately, everyone in Levinshir knew my name and description, and I worried the story might run ahead of me on the road. If that happened, I could easily come to a town where the local constables would do their duty and lock me up until a traveling magistrate arrived to judge my case.
So I made my best speed toward Severen. I put in two days of hard walking, then paid for a seat on a coach heading south. Rumor travels fast, but you can keep ahead of it if you’re willing to ride hard and lose a little sleep.
After three days of bone-jarring ride, I arrived in Severen. The coach entered the city by the eastern gate, and for the first time I saw the gibbet Bredon had told me about. The sight of the bleached bones in the iron cage did not ease my anxieties. The Maer had put a man in there for simple banditry. What might he do to someone who had slaughtered nine traveling players on the road?
I was sorely tempted to head straight to the Four Tapers, where I hoped to find Denna despite what the Cthaeh had said. But I was covered in several days of grime and sweat. I needed a bath and a brush before I spoke with anyone.
As soon as I was inside the Maer’s estate I sent a ring and note to Stapes, knowing it would be the quickest way to get in touch with the Maer for a private conversation. I made it back to my room with little delay, though it meant brushing roughly past a few courtiers in the halls. I had just set down my travelsack and sent runners for hot water when Stapes appeared in the doorway.
“Young Master Kvothe!” he beamed, grabbing my hand to shake it. “It’s good to have you back. Lord and lady, but I’ve been worried about you.”
His enthusiasm wrung a tired smile from me. “It’s good to be back, Stapes. Have I missed much?”
“Much?” He laughed. “The wedding for one.”
“Wedding?” I asked, but I knew the answer as soon as I said it. “The Maer’s wedding?”
Stapes nodded excitedly. “Oh, it was a grand thing. It’s a shame you had to be gone for it, considering.” He gave a knowing look, but didn’t say anything else. Stapes was always very discreet.
“They didn’t waste much time, did they?”
“It’s been two months since the betrothal,” Stapes said with a hint of reproach. “Not a bit less than proper.” I saw him relax a bit, and he gave me a wink. “Which isn’t to say they weren’t both a bit eager.”
I chuckled as runner boys came through the open door with buckets of steaming water. The splashing as they began to fill the bath was like sweet music.
The manservant watched them leave, then leaned close and said in a quieter voice, “You’ll be glad to hear our other unresolved matter has been tended to properly.”
I looked at him blankly, searching through my memory for what he might be referring to. So much had happened since I’d left. . . .
Stapes saw my expression. “Caudicus,” he said, his mouth twisting bitterly around the name. “Dagon brought him back only two days after you left. He’d gone to ground not ten miles from the city.”
“So close?” I asked, surprised.
Stapes nodded grimly. “He was tucked away in a farmhouse like a badger in a burrow. He killed four of the Maer’s personal guard and cost Dagon an eye. In the end they only caught him by setting fire to the place.”
“And what happened then?” I asked. “Not a trial, certainly.”
“The matter was tended to,” Stapes repeated. “Properly.” He said the last with a great weight of grim finality. His normally kind eyes were narrow with hate. In that moment the round-faced little man looked very little like a grocer at all.
I remembered Alveron calmly saying, “take off his thumbs.” Given what I knew of Alveron’s swift and decisive anger, I doubted anyone would ever see Caudicus again.
“Did the Maer manage to uncover why?” Even though I spoke softly, I left the rest unsaid, knowing Stapes would not approve of my mentioning the poisoning openly.
“It’s not my place to say,” Stapes said carefully. His tone was slightly offended, as if I should know better than to ask him such things.
I let the subject go, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to get anything else out of Stapes. “You’d be doing me a favor if you could deliver something to the Maer for me,” I said, walking to where I’d dropped my worn travelsack. I rooted through it until I found the Maer’s lockbox down near the bottom.
I held it out to Stapes. “I’m not sure what’s in it,” I said. “But it’s got his crest on the top. And it’s heavy. I hope it might be some of the taxes that were stolen.” I smiled. “Tell him it’s a wedding present.”
Stapes took hold of the box, smiling. “I’m sure he’ll be delighted.”
Three more runners appeared, but only two of them ran past with steaming buckets. The third went to Stapes and handed him a note. There was more splashing in the other room, and all three of the boys left again, stealing glances at me
Stapes skimmed the note then looked up at me. “The Maer is hoping it would be convenient for you to meet him in the garden at fifth bell,” he said.
The garden meant polite conversation. If the Maer had wanted a serious discussion he would have summoned me to his rooms, or paid me a call through the secret passage that connected his rooms with mine.
I looked at the clock on the wall. It wasn’t a sympathy clock of the sort I was used to at the University. This was a harmony clock, swinging pendulum and all. Beautiful machinery, but not nearly as accurate. Its hands showed a quarter to the hour.
“Is that clock fast, Stapes?” I asked hopefully. Fifteen minutes was barely enough time for me to strip out of my road clothes and lace myself into some sufficiently decorous court finery. But given the layers of dirt and sour sweat that covered me, that would be as pointless as tying a silk ribbon around a steaming cowpat.
Stapes looked over my shoulder, then checked a small gear watch he kept in his pocket. “It looks about five minutes slow, actually.”
I rubbed my face, considering my options. I wasn’t simply mussed from a day’s travel. I was filthy. I had walked hard under the summer sun, then spent days trapped in a stifling-hot carriage. While the Maer was not one to judge things entirely by appearances, he did value propriety. I would not make a good impression if I showed up reeking and filthy.
Unbidden, the memory of the iron gibbet rose up in my mind, and I decided I couldn’t risk making a bad impression. Not with the news I brought. “Stapes, I won’t be ready for at least an hour. I could meet with him at sixth bell if he would like.”
Stapes’ expression turned stiff and affronted. Its message was clear. You simply didn’t request a different meeting time with the Maer Alveron. He asked. You came. That was the way of things.