The Wise Man's Fear Part 36

"Then I'll dance a merry little jig," I said. "But between the two of us, I hardly think that's likely."

The sun had set by the time I made it into the forest. Wilem was already there, kindling a fire in the wide pit. We worked together for a quarter hour, gathering enough wood to keep a bonfire burning for hours.

Simmon arrived a few minutes later dragging a long section of dead branch. The three of us broke it into pieces and made nervous small talk until Fela came out of the trees.

Her long hair was pinned up, leaving her elegant neck and shoulders bare. Her eyes were dark and her mouth was slightly redder than usual. Her long black gown was gathered close at her narrow waist and well-rounded hips. She was also displaying the most spectacular pair of b.r.e.a.s.t.s I'd ever seen at that point in my young life.

We all gaped, but Simmon gaped openly. "Wow," he said. "I mean, you were the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen before this. I didn't think there was any further for you to go." He laughed his boyish laugh and gestured at her with both hands. "Look at you. You're incredible!"

Fela flushed and looked away, obviously pleased.

"You have the hardest part tonight," I said to her. "I hate to ask, but ..."

"But you're the only irresistibly attractive woman we know," Simmon chimed in. "Our backup plan was to stuff Wilem into a dress. n.o.body wants that."

Wilem nodded. "Agreed."

"Only for you." Fela's mouth quirked into an ironic smile. "When I said I owed you a favor, I never guessed you'd ask me to go out on a date with another man." The smile went a little sour. "Especially Ambrose."

"You only need to put up with him for an hour or two. Try to get him into Imre if you can, but anywhere at least a hundred yards from the Pony will do."

Fela sighed. "At least I'll get dinner out of this." She looked at Simmon. "I like your boots."

He grinned. "They're new."

I turned at the sound of approaching footsteps. Mola was the only one of us not here, but I heard murmured voices mixed with the footsteps and gritted my teeth. It was probably a pair of young lovers out enjoying the unseasonably warm weather.

The group of us couldn't be seen together, not tonight. It would raise too many questions. I was just about to rush out to intercept them when I recognized Mola's voice. "Just wait here while I explain," she said. "Please. Just wait. It will make things easier."

"Let him pitch a twelve-color fit." A familiar female voice came out of the darkness. "Let him s.h.i.+t out his liver for all I care."

I stopped in my tracks. I knew the second voice, but I couldn't put my finger on who it belonged to.

Mola emerged from the dark trees. At her side was a small figure with short strawberry-blond hair. Devi.

I stood stunned as Mola came closer, holding out her hands in a placating gesture and speaking quickly. "Kvothe, I know Devi from a long while ago. She showed me the ropes back when I was new here. Back before she ... left."

"Expelled," Devi said proudly. "I'm not ashamed of it."

Mola continued hurriedly. "After what you said yesterday. It seemed like there was some misunderstanding. When I stopped in to ask her about it ..." She shrugged. "The whole story kind of came out. She wanted to help."

"I want a piece of Ambrose," Devi said. There was a weight of cold fury in her voice when she said his name. "My help is largely incidental."

Wilem cleared his throat. "Would we be correct in a.s.suming-"

"He beats his wh.o.r.es," Devi said, interrupting him abruptly. "And if I could kill the arrogant b.a.s.t.a.r.d and get away with it, I would have done it years ago." She stared flatly at Wilem. "And yes, we have a past. And no, it's none of your business. Is that enough reason for you?"

There was a tense silence. Wilem nodded, his face carefully blank.

Devi turned to look at me.

"Devi." I made a short bow to her. "I'm sorry."

She blinked in surprise. "Well, I'll be d.a.m.ned," she said, her voice sharp with sarcasm. "Maybe you do have half a brain in your head."

"I didn't think I could trust you," I said. "I was wrong, and I regret it. It wasn't the clearest thinking I've ever done."

She eyed me for a long moment. "We're not friends," she said curtly, her expression still icy. "But if you're still alive at the end of all this, we'll talk."

Devi looked past me and her expression softened. "Little Fela!" She brushed past me and gave Fela a hug. "You're all grown up!" She stepped back and held Fela at arm's length, looking her over appreciatively. "My lord, you look like a ten-stripe Modegan wh.o.r.e! He'll love it."

Fela smiled and spun a little so the bottom of her dress flared. "It is nice to have an excuse to dress up every once and a while."

"You should be dressing up on your own," Devi said. "And for better men than Ambrose."

"I've been busy. I'm out of practice preening. It took me an hour to remember how to do my hair. Any advice?" She held her arms out to her sides and did a slow turn.

Devi looked her up and down with a calculating eye. "You're already better than he deserves. But you're all bare. Why don't you have any sparkle on you?"

Fela looked down at her hands. "Rings won't work with the gloves," she said. "And I didn't have anything nice enough to go with the dress."

"Here then," Devi tilted her head and reached up under her hair, first on one side then the other. Then she stepped closer to Fela. "Lord you're tall, bend down."

When Fela straightened up again, she was wearing a pair of earrings that swung and caught the light of the fire.

Devi stepped back and gave an exasperated sigh. "And they look better on you, of course." She shook her head with irritation. "Good lord woman. If I had t.i.ts like yours I'd own half the world by now."

"You and me both," Sim said enthusiastically.

Wilem burst out laughing, then covered his face and stepped away from Sim, shaking his head and doing his best to look like he didn't have the slightest idea who was standing next to him.

Devi looked at Sim's unashamed, boyish grin, then back to Fela. "Who's the idiot?"

I caught Mola's eye and motioned her closer so we could talk. "You didn't need to, but thanks. It's a relief, knowing she's not out there plotting against me."

"Don't a.s.sume," Mola said grimly. "I've never seen her so angry. It just seemed a shame for the two of you to be at odds. You're a lot alike."

I darted a glance across the fire pit where Wil and Sim were cautiously approaching Devi and Fela. "I've heard a lot about you," Wilem said, looking at Devi. "I thought you'd be taller."

"How's that working out for you?" Devi asked dryly. "Thinking, I mean."

I waved my hands to get everyone's attention. "It's late," I said. "We have to get into position."

Fela nodded. "I want to be there early, just in case." She straightened her gloves nervously. "Wish me luck."

Mola walked over and gave her a quick hug. "It'll be fine. Stay somewhere public with him. He'll behave better if people are watching."

"Keep asking him about his poetry," Devi advised. "He'll talk the time away."

"If he gets impatient, compliment the wine," Mola added. "Say things like, 'Oh I'd love another gla.s.s, but I'm worried it'd go right to my head.' He'll buy a bottle and try and pour it into you."

Devi nodded. "It'll keep him off you for an extra half-hour at least." She reached out and pulled up the top of Fela's dress a bit. "Start conservative, then bring them out a little more toward the end of the dinner. Lean. Use your shoulders. If he keeps seeing more and more, he'll think he's getting somewhere. It'll keep him from getting grabby."

"This is the most terrifying thing I've ever seen," Wilem said quietly.

"Do all the women in the world secretly know each other?" Sim asked. "Because that would explain a lot."

"There's barely a hundred of us in the Arcanum," Devi said scathingly. "They confine us to a single wing of the Mews whether or not we actually want to live there. How can we not not know each other?" know each other?"

I walked over to Fela and handed her a slender oak twig. "I'll signal you when we're done. You signal me if he walks out on you."

Fela arched an eyebrow. "A woman could take that slightingly," she said, then smiled and slid the twig inside one of her long black gloves. Her earrings swung and caught the light again. They were emeralds. Smooth emerald teardrops.

"Those are lovely earrings," I said to Devi. "Where did you come by them?"

Her eyes narrowed, as if she were trying to decide whether or not to take offense. "A pretty young boy used them to settle his debt," she said. "Not that it's any of your business."

I shrugged. "Just curious."

Fela waved and walked off, but before she made it ten feet Simmon caught up with her. He smiled awkwardly, talking and making a few emphatic gestures before handing her something. She smiled and tucked it into her long black glove.

I turned to Devi. "I a.s.sume you know the plan?"

She nodded. "How far is it to his room?"

"A little more than half a mile," I said apologetically. "The slippage-"

Devi cut me off with a gesture. "I do my own calculations," she said sharply.

"Right." I gestured to where my travelsack lay near the edge of the fire pit. "There's wax and clay in there." I handed her a slim birch twig. "I'll signal you when we're in position. Start with the wax. Give it a hard half-hour, then signal and move onto the clay. Give the clay at least an hour."

Devi snorted. "With a bonfire behind me? It'll take me fifteen minutes, tops."

"It might not be tucked into his sock drawer, you realize. It might be locked away without much air."

Devi waved me away. "I know my business."

I made a half bow. "I leave it in your capable hands."

"That's it?" Mola demanded indignantly. "You lectured me for an hour! You quizzed quizzed me!" me!"

"There isn't time," I said simply. "And you'll be here to coach her if need be. Besides, Devi happens to be one of the handful of people I suspect might be a better sympathist than me."

Devi gave me a dark look. "Suspect? I beat you like a red-headed stepchild. You were my little sympathy hand puppet."

"That was two span ago," I said. "I've learned a lot since then."

"Hand puppet?" Sim asked Wilem. Wil made an explanatory gesture and they both burst out laughing.

I motioned to Wilem. "Let's go."

Before we could head out, Sim handed me a small jar.

I gave it an odd look. I already had his alchemical concoction tucked away in my cloak. "What's this?"

"It's just ointment in case you get burned," he explained. "But if you mix it with p.i.s.s, it turns into candy." Sim's expression was deadpan. "Delicious candy."

I nodded seriously. "Yes sir."

Mola stared in confusion. Devi pointedly ignored us and began piling wood on the fire.

An hour later, Wilem and I were playing cards at the Golden Pony. The common room was nearly full, and a harpist was doing a pa.s.sable version of "Sweet Winter Rye." The room was full of murmured conversation as wealthy customers gambled, drank, and talked about whatever rich people talk about. How to properly beat the stable boy, I guessed. Or techniques for chasing the chambermaid around the estate.

The Golden Pony was not my sort of place. The clientele was too well-bred, the drinks too expensive, and the musicians more pleasing to the eye than the ear. Despite all this, I'd been coming here for nearly two span, making a show of trying to climb the social ladder. That way, no one could say it was odd I was here on this particular night.

Wilem took a drink and shuffled the cards. My own drink sat half-finished and warm. It was only a simple ale, but given the prices at the Pony I was now, quite literally, penniless.

Wil dealt another hand of breath. I picked up my cards carefully, as Simmon's alchemical concoction made my fingers ever so slightly sticky. We might as well have been playing with blank cards. I drew and threw randomly, pretending to concentrate on the game when really I was waiting, listening.

I felt a slight tickle in the corner of my eye and reached to rub it away with my fingers, catching myself at the last second with my hand upraised. Wilem stared at me from across the table, his eyes alarmed, and gave his head a small, firm shake. I went motionless for a moment, then slowly lowered my hand.

I was so busy trying to appear nonchalant that when the cry came from outside I was actually startled. It cut through the low murmur of conversation as only a shrill voice filled with panic can. "Fire! Fire!"

Everyone in the Pony froze for a moment. This always happens when people are startled and confused. They take a second to look around, smell the air, and think things like, "Did he just say fire?" or "Fire? Where? Here?"

I didn't hesitate. I leaped to my feet and made a show of looking around wildly, obviously trying to search out the fire. By the time everyone else in the common room started to move, I was already das.h.i.+ng for the stairs.

"Fire!" The cries continued from outside. "Oh G.o.d. Fire!"

I smiled as I listened to Basil overact his small part. I didn't know him well enough to let him in on the whole plan, but it was vital that someone notice the fire early so I could spring into action. The last thing I wanted to do was accidentally burn down half the inn.

I reached the top of the steps and looked around the upper floor of the Golden Pony. There were already footsteps pounding up the stairs behind me. A few wealthy lodgers opened their doors, peering into the hallway.

There were faint wisps of smoke curling underneath the door to Ambrose's rooms. Perfect.

"I think it's over here!" I shouted, sliding a hand into one of my cloak's pockets as I ran to the door.

In the long days we spent searching the Archives, I'd found reference to a great many interesting pieces of artificery. One of them was an elegant piece of artificery called a siege stone.

It worked on the most basic sympathetic principles. A crossbow stores energy and uses it to shoot a bolt a long distance at a great speed. A siege stone was an inscribed piece of lead that stores energy and uses it to move itself about six inches with the force of a battering ram.

Reaching the middle of the hallway, I braced myself and charged Ambrose's door with my shoulder. I also struck it with the siege stone I held concealed against the flat of my hand.

The thick-timbered door staved in like a barrel struck by an anvil hammer. There were startled gasps and exclamations from everyone in the hallway. I rushed inside, trying desperately to keep the manic grin off my face.