“For ease of travel,” I said. “And the protection your name offers.”
He shrugged my explanation away. “They were probably Ruh that tired of honest work and took up thieving instead.”
“No, your grace,” I insisted. “They were not Edema Ruh.”
Alveron gave me a reproachful look. “Come now. Who can tell the difference between bandits and a band of Ruh?”
“There is no difference,” Meluan said crisply.
“Your grace, I would know the difference,” I said hotly. “I am Edema Ruh.”
Silence. Meluan’s expression turned from blank shock, to disbelief, to rage, to disgust. She came to her feet, looked for a moment as if she would spit on me, then walked stiffly out the door. There was a clatter as her personal guard came to attention and followed her out of the outer rooms.
Alveron continued to look at me, his face severe. “If this is a joke, it is a poor one.”
“It is none, your grace,” I said, wrestling with my temper.
“And why have you found it necessary to hide this from me?”
“I have not hidden it, your grace. You yourself have mentioned several times that I am far from gentle birth.”
He struck the arm of his chair angrily. “You know what I mean! Why did you never mention that you are one of the Ruh?”
“I think the reason rather obvious, your grace,” I said stiffly, trying to keep from spitting out the words. “The words ‘Edema Ruh’ have too strong a smell for many gentle noses. Your wife has found her perfume cannot cover it.”
“My lady has had unfortunate dealings with the Ruh in the past,” he said by way of explanation. “You would do well to note.”
“I know of her sister. Her family’s tragic shame. Run off and love a trouper. How terrible,” I said scathingly, my entire body prickling with hot rage. “Her sister’s sense does credit to her family; less so the actions of your lady wife. My blood is worth as much as any man’s, and more than most. And even were it not, she has no leave to treat me as she did.”
Alveron’s expression hardened. “I rather think that she has leave to treat you as she will,” he said. “She was simply startled by your sudden proclamation. Given her feelings about you ravel, I think she showed remarkable restraint.”
“I think she rues the truth. A trouper’s tongue has gotten her to bed more quickly than her sister.”
As soon as I said it, I knew I had gone too far. I clenched my teeth to keep from saying anything worse.
“That will be all,” Alveron said with cold formality, his eyes flat and angry.
I left with all the angry dignity I could muster. Not because I had nothing else to say, but because if I had stayed one moment longer he would have called for guards, and that is not how I wished to make my exit.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY
Just Rewards
I was in the middle of dressing the following morning when an errand boy arrived bearing a thick envelope with Alveron’s seal. I took a seat by the window and discovered several letters inside. The outermost one read:
Kvothe,
I have thought a while and decided your blood matters but little in light of the services you have rendered me.
However, my soul is bound to another whose comfort I hold more dearly than my own. Though I had hoped to retain your services, I cannot. What’s more, as your presence is the cause of my wife’s considerable distress, I must ask you to return my ring and leave Severen at your earliest convenience.
I stopped reading, got to my feet, and opened the door to my rooms. A pair of Alveron’s guards were standing at attention in the hallway.
“Sir?” one of them said, eyeing my half-dressed state.
“Just checking,” I said, closing the door.
I returned to my seat and picked up the letter again.
As to the matter that precipitated this unfortunate circumstance, I believe you have acted in the best interest of myself and Vintas as a whole. In fact, I have received report just this morning that two girls were returned to their families in Levinshir by a red-haired “gentleman” named Kvothe.
As reward for your many services I offer the following:
First, a full pardon for those you killed near Levinshir.
Second, a letter of credit enabling you to draw on my coffers for the payment of your tuition at the University.
Third, a writ granting you the right to travel, play, and perform wherever you will within my lands.
Lastly, my thanks.
Maershon Lerand Alveron
I sat for a few long minutes, watching the birds flit in the garden outside my window. The contents of the envelope were just as Alveron had said. The letter of credit was a work of art, signed and sealed in four places by Alveron and his chief exchequer.
The writ was, if anything, even more lovely. It was drawn on a thick sheet of creamy vellum, signed by the Maer’s own hand and fixed with both his family’s seal and that of Alveron himself.
But it was not a writ of patronage. I read through it carefully. By omission it made it clear that neither was I in the Maer’s service, nor were we bound to each other. Still, it granted free travel and the right to perform under his name. It was an odd compromise of a document.
I’d just finished dressing when there came another knock on the door. I sighed, half expecting more guards coming to roust me out of my rooms.
But opening the door revealed another runner boy. He carried a silver tray bearing another letter. This one had the Lackless seal upon the top. Beside it lay a ring. I picked it up and turned it over in my hands, puzzled. It wasn’t iron, as I’d expected, but pale wood. Meluan’s name was burned crudely into the side of it.
I noticed the runner boy’s wide eyes darting back and forth between the ring and myself. More importantly, I noticed the guards were not staring at it. Pointedly not staring. The sort of not-staring you only engage in when something very interesting has come to your attention.
I handed the boy my silver ring. “Take this to Bredon,” I said. “And don’t dawdle.”
Bredon was looking up at the guards as I opened the door. “Keep up the good work, my boys,” he said, playfully tapping one of them on the chest with his walking stick. The silver wolf’s head chimed lightly against the guard’s breastplate, and Bredon smiled like a jolly uncle. “We all feel safer for your vigilance.”
He closed the door behind himself and raised an eyebrow at me. “Lord’s mercy boy, you’re up the ladder by leaps and bounds. I knew you sat solid in the Maer’s good grace, but to have him assign you two of his personal guard?” He pressed his hand to his heart and sighed dramatically. “Soon you will be too busy for the likes of poor old useless Bredon.”
I gave him a weak smile. “I think it’s more complicated than that.” I held up the wooden ring for him to see. “I need you to tell me what this means.”
Bredon’s jovial cheer evaporated more quickly than if I’d pulled out a bloody knife. “Lord and lady,” he said. “Tell me you got that from some oldfashioned farmer.”
I shook my head and handed it to him.
He turned the ring over in his hands. “Meluan?” he asked quietly. Handing it back, he sank into a nearby chair, his walking stick across his knees. His face had gone slightly grey. “The Maer’s new lady wife sent you this? As a summons?”
“It’s about as far from a summons as anything can be,” I said. “She sent a charming letter, too.” I held it up with my other hand.
Bredon held out his hand. “Can I see it?” he asked, then drew his hand back quickly. “I’m sorry. That’s terribly rude of me to ask—”
“You could do me no greater favor than reading it,” I said, pressing it into his hands. “I am in desperate need of your opinion.”