Kilvin shook his head. “You are a fine boy, but this twice-tough glass was made by my own hands. Broad-shouldered Cammar could not break it with an anvil hammer.” He dropped the piece of glass and came back to his feet. “Let the others tell whatever stories they wish, but between us let us share secrets.”
“It’s no great mystery,” I admitted. “I know the sygaldry for twice-tough glass. What I can make, I can break.”
“But where was your source?” Kilvin said. “You could have nothing ready on such short notice….” I held up my bandaged thumb. “Blood,” he said, sounding surprised. “Using the heat of your blood could be called reckless, E’lir Kvothe. What of binder’s chills? What if you had gone into hypothermic shock?”
“My options were rather limited, Master Kilvin,” I said.
Kilvin nodded thoughtfully. “Quite impressive, to unbind what I have wrought with nothing more than blood.” He started to run a hand through his beard, then frowned in irritation when the bandages made this impossible.
“What of you, Master Kilvin? How did you manage to get the fire under control?”
“Not using the name of fire,” he conceded. “If Elodin had been here, matters would have been much simpler. But as the name of fire is unknown to me, I was left to my own devices.”
I gave him a cautious look, not sure whether he was making another joke or not. Kilvin’s deadpan humor was hard to detect at times. “Elodin knows the name of fire?”
Kilvin nodded. “There may be one or two others here at the University, but Elodin has the surest grip of it.”
“The name of fire,” I said slowly. “And they could have called it and the fire would have done what they said, like Taborlin the Great?”
Kilvin nodded again.
“But those are just stories,” I protested.
He gave me an amused look. “Where do you think stories come from, E’lir Kvothe? Every tale has deep roots somewhere in the world.”
“What sort of a name is it? How does it work?”
Kilvin hesitated for a moment, then shrugged his massive shoulders. “It is troublesome to explain in this language. In any language. Ask Elodin—he makes a habit of studying such things.”
I knew firsthand how helpful Elodin would be. “So how did you stop the fire?”
“There is little mystery in it,” he said. “I was prepared for such an accident and had a small vial of the reagent in my office. I used it as a link and drew heat from the spill. The reagent grew too cold to boil and the remaining fog burned away. The lion’s share of the reagent drained down the grates while Jaxim and the others scattered lime and sand to control what was left.”
“You can’t be serious,” I said. “It was a furnace in here. You couldn’t have moved that many thaums of heat. Where would you have put it?”
“I had an empty heat-eater ready for just such an emergency. Fire is the simplest of troubles I have prepared for.”
I waved his explanation aside. “Even so, there’s no way. It must have been…” I tried to calculate how much heat he would have had to move, but stalled out, not knowing where to begin.
“I estimate eight hundred fifty million thaums,” Kilvin said. “Though we must check the trap for a more accurate number.”
I was speechless. “But…how?”
“Quickly,” he made a significant gesture with his bandaged hands, “but not easily.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
The Ever-Changing Wind
I TRUDGED THROUGH THE next day barefoot, cloakless, and thinking grim thoughts about my life. The novelty of playing hero faded quickly in light of my situation. I had one ragged suit of clothes. My flash burns were minor but incessantly painful. I had no money to buy painkillers or new clothes. I chewed bitter willow bark and bitter was my mood.
My poverty hung around my neck like a heavy stone. Never before had I been more aware of the difference between myself and the other students. Everyone attending the University had a safety net to fall back on. Sim’s parents were Aturan nobility. Wil came from a wealthy merchant family in the Shald. If things got rough for them, they could borrow against their families’ credit or write a letter home.
I, on the other hand, couldn’t afford shoes. I only owned one shirt. How could I hope to stay in the University for the years it would take me to become a full arcanist? How could I hope to advance in the ranks without access to the Archives?
By noon, I had worked myself into such a grim mood that I snapped at Sim during lunch and we bickered like an old married couple. Wilem offered no opinion, keeping his eyes carefully on his food. Finally, in a blatant attempt to dispel my foul mood they invited me to go see Three Pennies for Wishing across the river tomorrow evening. I agreed to go, as I’d heard the players were doing Feltemi’s original and not one of the expurgated versions. It was well suited to my mood, full of dark humor, tragedy, and betrayal.
After lunch I found Kilvin had already sold half my emitters. Since they were going to be the last blue emitters made for some time, the price was high, and my share was slightly over a talent and a half. I expected Kilvin might have padded the price a little, which rankled my pride a bit, but I was in no position to look a gift horse in the mouth.
But even this did nothing to improve my mood. Now I could afford shoes and a secondhand cloak. If I worked like a dog for the remainder of the term I might be able to earn enough to eke out my interest to Devi and tuition as well. The thought brought me no joy. More than ever I was aware how tenuous my situation was. I was a hairsbreadth away from disaster.
My mood spiraled downward and I skipped Advanced Sympathy in favor of going over the river to Imre. The thought of seeing Denna was the only thing that had the potential to raise my spirits a little. I still needed to explain to her why I’d missed our lunch date.
On my way to the Eolian I bought a pair of low boots, good for walking and warm enough for the winter months ahead. It nearly emptied my purse again. I sullenly counted my money as I left the cobbler’s shop: three jots and a drab. I’d had more money living on the streets of Tarbean….
“Your timing’s good today,” Deoch said as I approached the Eolian. “We’ve got someone waiting for you.”
I felt a foolish grin spread to my face and clapped him on the shoulder as I headed inside.
Instead of Denna I spotted Fela sitting at a table by herself. Stanchion stood nearby, chatting with her. When he saw me approaching, he waved me over and wandered back to his usual perch at the bar, clapping me affectionately on the shoulder as he walked by.
When she saw me, Fela came to her feet and rushed toward me. For a second I thought she was going to run into my arms as if we were reunited lovers in some overacted Aturan tragedy. But she pulled up short of that, her dark hair swinging. She was lovely as always, but with a heavy, purpling bruise darkening one of her high cheekbones.
“Oh no,” I said, my hand going to my face in sympathetic pain. “Is that from when I dropped you? I’m so sorry.”
She gave me an incredulous look, then burst out laughing. “You’re apologizing for pulling me out of a fiery hell?”