“I . . . procured it, Master Kilvin,” I said evasively. “I needed it to test the arrowcatch.”
“Why not use a simple hunter’s bow?” Kilvin said sternly. “And thereby avoid the need of illegal procurement?”
“It would be too weak, Master Kilvin. I needed to be sure my design would stop any arrow, and a crossbow fires a bolt harder than any other.”
“A Modegan longbow is equal of a flatbow,” Kilvin said.
“But the use of one is beyond my skill,” I said. “And the purchase of a Modegan bow is far beyond my means.”
Kilvin let out a deep sigh. “Before, when you made your thief ’s lamp, you made a bad thing in a good way. That I do not like.” He looked down at the schema. “This time you have made a good thing in a bad way. That is better, but not entirely. Best is to make a good thing in a good way. Agreed?”
I nodded.
He lay one massive hand on the crossbow. “Did anyone see you with it?”
I shook my head.
“Then we will say it is mine, and you procured it under my advisement. It will join the equipment in Stocks.” He gave me a hard look. “And in the future you will come to me if you need such things.”
That stung a bit, as I’d been planning on selling it back to Sleat. Still, it could have been worse. The last thing I wanted was to run afoul of the iron law.
“Third, I see no mention of gold wire or silver in your schema,” he said. “Nor can I imagine any use they could be put to in such a device as yours. Explain why you have checked these materials out of Stocks.”
I was suddenly pointedly aware of the cool metal of my gram against the inside of my arm. Its inlay was gold, but I could hardly tell him that. “I was short on money, Master Kilvin. And I needed materials I couldn’t get in Stocks.”
“Such as your flatbow.”
I nodded. “And the straw and the bear traps.”
“Wrong follows wrong,” Kilvin said disapprovingly. “The Stocks are not a moneylender’s stall and should not be used as such. I am rescinding your precious metals authorization.”
I bowed my head, hoping I looked appropriately chastised.
“You will also work twenty hours in Stocks as your punishment. If anyone asks, you will tell them what you did. And explain that as a punishment you were forced to repay the value of the metals plus an additional twenty percent. If you use Stocks as a moneylender, you will be charged interest like a moneylender.”
I winced at that. “Yes, Master Kilvin.”
“Last,” Kilvin said, turning to lay one huge hand on the arrowcatch. “What do you imagine such a thing would sell for, Re’lar Kvothe?”
My heart rose in my chest. “Does that mean you approve it for sale, Master Kilvin?”
The great bearlike artificer gave me a puzzled look. “Of course I approve it, Re’lar Kvothe. It is a wondrous thing. It is an improvement to the world. Every time a person sees such a thing, they will see how artificery is used to keep men safe. They will think well of all artificers for the making of such a thing.”
He looked down at the arrowcatch, frowning thoughtfully. “But if we are to sell it, it must have a price. What do you suggest?”
I’d been wondering on this question for six span. The simple truth was I hoped it would bring me enough money to pay for my tuition and my interest on Devi’s loan. Enough to keep me in the University for one more term.
“I honestly don’t know, Master Kilvin,” I said. “How much would you pay to avoid having a long yard of ash arrow shot through your lung?”
He chuckled. “My lung is quite valuable,” he said. “But let us think in other terms. Materials come to . . .” He glanced at the schema. “Roughly nine jots, am I correct?”
Uncannily correct. I nodded.
“How many hours did it take you to make?”
“About a hundred,” I said. “Maybe a hundred and twenty. But a lot of that was experimentation and testing. I could probably make another in fifty or sixty hours. Less if moldings are made.”
Kilvin nodded. “I suggest twenty-five talents. Does that seem reasonable to you?”
The sum took my breath away. Even after I repaid Stocks for materials and the workshop took its forty percent commission, it was six times more than I’d earn working on deck lamps. An almost ridiculous amount of money.
I began to agree enthusiastically, then a thought occurred to me. Though it pained me, I slowly shook my head. “Honestly, Master Kilvin. I’d prefer to sell them more cheaply than that.”
He raised an eyebrow. “They will pay it,” he reassured me. “I have seen people pay more for less useful things.”
I shrugged. “Twenty-five talents is a lot of money,” I said. “Safety and peace of mind shouldn’t only be available to those with heavy purses. I think eight would be a great plenty.”
Kilvin looked at me for a long moment, then nodded. “As you say. Eight talents.” He ran his hand over the top of the arrowcatch, almost petting it. “However, as this is the first and only one in existence, I will pay you twenty-five for it. It will go in my personal collection.” He cocked his head at me. “Lhinsatva?”
“Lhin,” I said gratefully, feeling a great weight of anxiety lifting off my shoulders.
Kilvin smiled and nodded toward the table. “I would also like to examine the schema at my leisure. Would you like to make me a copy?”
“For twenty-five talents,” I said, smiling as I slid the paper across the table, “you can have the original.”
Kilvin wrote me a receipt and left, clutching the arrowcatch like a child with a new favorite toy.
I hurried to Stocks with my slip of paper. I had to settle my debt for materials, including the gold wire and silver ingots. But even after the workshop took its commission I was left with almost eleven talents.
I went through the remainder of the day grinning and whistling like an idiot. It is as they say: a heavy purse makes for a light heart.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Consortation
I sat on the hearth at Anker’s with my lute in my lap. The room was warm and quiet, full of people who had come to hear me play.
Felling was my regular night at Anker’s, and it was always busy. Even in the worst weather there weren’t enough chairs, and those who came late were forced to cluster around the bar and lean against walls. Lately, Anker had needed to bring in an extra girl on Felling night just to hurry drinks around the room.
Outside the inn, winter was still clutching at the University, but inside the air was warm and sweet with the smell of beer and bread and broth. Over the months I had slowly trained my audience to be properly attentive while I played, so the room was hushed as I fingered my way through the second verse of “Violet Bide.”
I was in fine form that night. My audience had bought me half a dozen drinks, and in a fit of generosity, a tipsy scriv had tossed a hard penny into my lute case where it lay shining among the dull iron and copper. I’d made Simmon cry twice, and Anker’s new serving girl was smiling and blushing at me with such frequency that even I couldn’t miss the signal. She had beautiful eyes.
For the first time I could remember, I actually felt like I had some control over my life. There was money in my purse. My studies were going well. I had access to the Archives, and despite the fact that I was forced to work in Stocks, everyone knew Kilvin was terribly pleased with me.
The only thing missing was Denna.
I looked down at my hands as I entered into the final chorus of “Violet Bide.” I’d had a few more drinks than I was used to, and I didn’t want to fumble. As I watched my fingers, I heard the door of the taproom open and felt a chill wind curl around the room. The fire swayed and danced beside me as I heard boots moving across the wooden floor.
The room was quiet as I sang: