Wilem made a point of looking elsewhere while Sim and I glared at each other. I looked away first, feeling guilty.
“Besides, there’s nothing to tell,” I muttered. “I like spending time with her, and now I know where she’s staying. That means I can find her when I go looking.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
Nine in the Fire
THE NEXT DAY, as luck would have it, I made a trip to Imre. Then, since I just happened to be in the neighborhood, I stopped by the Oaken Oar.
The owner didn’t know the name “Denna” or “Dianne,” but a young, lovely dark-haired girl named “Dinnah” was renting a room there. She wasn’t in right now, but if I cared to leave a note…. I declined his offer, comforted by the fact that since I now knew where Denna was staying, finding her would be relatively easy.
However, I had no luck catching Denna at the Oaken Oar over the next two days. On the third day, the owner informed me that Denna had left in the middle of the night, taking all her things and leaving her bill unpaid. After stopping by a few taverns at random and not finding her, I walked back to the University, not knowing if I should be worried or irritated.
Three more days and five more fruitless trips to Imre. Neither Deoch nor Threpe had heard any news of her. Deoch told me that it was her nature to disappear like this, and that looking for her would serve about as much purpose as calling for a cat. I knew it to be good advice, and ignored it.
I sat in Kilvin’s office trying to look calm as the great, shaggy master turned my sympathy lamp over in his huge hands. It was my first solo project as an artificer. I’d cast the plates and ground the lenses. I’d doped the emitter without giving myself arsenic poisoning. Most importantly, mine was the Alar and the intricate sygaldry that turned the individual pieces into a functioning handheld sympathy lamp.
If Kilvin approved of the finished product, he would sell it and I would receive part of the money as a commission. More importantly, I would become an artificer in my own right, albeit a fledgling one. I would be trusted to pursue my own projects with a large degree of freedom. It was a big step forward in the ranks of the Fishery, a step toward gaining the rank of Re’lar, and more importantly, my financial freedom.
Finally he looked up. “This is finely made, E’lir Kvothe,” he said. “But the design is not typical.”
I nodded. “I made a few changes, sir. If you turn it on you’ll see—”
Kilvin made a low sound that could have been an amused chuckle or an irritated grunt. He set the lamp down on the table and walked around the room, snuffing all the lamps but one. “Do you know how many sympathy lamps I have had explode in my hands over the years, E’lir Kvothe?”
I swallowed and shook my head. “How many?”
“None,” he said gravely. “Because I am always careful. I am always absolutely sure of what I hold in my hands. You must learn patience, E’lir Kvothe. A moment in the mind is worth nine in the fire.”
I dropped my eyes and tried to look appropriately chastised.
Kilvin reached out and extinguished the one remaining lamp, bringing the room to near total darkness. There was a pause, then a distinctive reddish light welled from the hand lamp to shine against a wall. The light was very dim, less than that of a single candle.
“The action on the switch is graded,” I said quickly. “It’s more of a rheostat than a switch, really.”
Kilvin nodded. “Cleverly done. That is not something most bother with on a small lamp such as this.” The light grew brighter, then dimmer, then brighter again. “The sygaldry itself seems quite good,” Kilvin said slowly as he set the lamp down on the table. “But the focus of your lens is flawed. There is very little diffusion.”
It was true. Instead of lighting the whole room, as was typical, my lamp revealed a narrow slice of the room: the corner of the worktable and half of the large black slate that stood against the wall. The rest of the room remained dark.
“It’s intentional.” I said. “There are lanterns like that, bull’s-eye lanterns.”
Kilvin was little more than a dark shape across the table. “Such things are known to me, E’lir Kvothe,” his voice held a hint of reproach. “They are much used for unsavory business. Business arcanists should have no mingling with.”
“I thought sailors used them,” I said.
“Burglars use them,” Kilvin said seriously. “And spies, and other folk who do not wish to reveal their business during the dark hours of night.”
My vague anxiety grew suddenly sharper. I had considered this meeting mostly a formality. I knew I was a skilled artificer, better than many who had worked much longer in Kilvin’s shop. Now I was suddenly worried that I might have made a mistake and wasted nearly thirty hours of work on the lamp, not to mention over a whole talent of my own money that I’d invested in materials.
Kilvin made a noncommittal grunt and muttered under his breath. The half-dozen oil lamps around the room sputtered back into life, filling the room with natural light. I marveled at the master’s casual execution of a six-way binding. I couldn’t even guess where he had drawn the energy from.
“It’s just that everyone makes a sympathy lamp for their first project,” I said to fill the silence. “Everyone always follows the same old schema. I wanted to do something different. I wanted to see if I could make something new.”
“I expect what you wanted was to demonstrate your extreme cleverness,” Kilvin said matter-of-factly. “You wished to not only finish your apprenticeship in half the usual time, you wanted to bring me a lamp of your own improved design. Let us be frank, E’lir Kvothe. Your making this lamp is an attempt to show that you are better than the ordinary apprentice, is it not?” As he said this, Kilvin looked directly at me, and for a moment there was none of his characteristic distraction lurking behind his eyes.
I felt my mouth go dry. Underneath his shaggy beard and heavily accented Aturan, Kilvin had a mind like a diamond. What had made me think I could lie to him and get away with it?
“Of course I wanted to impress you, Master Kilvin,” I said, looking down. “I would think that that goes without saying.”
“Do not grovel,” he said. “False modesty does not impress me.”
I looked up and squared my shoulders. “In that case, Master Kilvin, I am better. I learn faster. I work harder. My hands are more nimble. My mind is more curious. However, I also expect you know this for yourself without my telling you.”
Kilvin nodded. “That is better. And you are right, I do know these things.” He thumbed the lamp on and off while pointing it at different things around the room. “And in all fairness, I am duly impressed with your skill. The lamp is tidily made. The sygaldry is quite cunning. The engraving precise. It is clever work.”