“Will you answer a few questions?” I asked.
“Fine,” he said, holding up his hand with his thumb and forefinger curled in. “Three questions. If you agree to leave me be afterward.”
I thought for a moment. “Why don’t you want to teach me?”
“Because the Edema Ruh make exceptionally poor students,” he said brusquely. “They are fine for rote learning, but the study of naming requires a level of dedication that ravel such as yourself rarely possess.”
My temper flared so hot and quick that I actually felt my skin flush. It started at my face and burned down my chest and arms. It made the hair on my arms prickle.
I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry that your experience with the Ruh has left something to be desired,” I said carefully. “Let me assure you that—”
“Ye Gods,” Elodin sighed, disgusted. “A bootlicker too. You lack the requisite spine and testicular fortitude to study under me.”
Hot words boiled up inside me. I fought them down. He was trying to bait me.
“You aren’t telling me the truth,” I said. “Why don’t you want to teach me?”
“For the same reason I don’t want a puppy!” Elodin shouted, waving his arms in the air like a farmer trying to startle crows out of a field. “Because you’re too short to be a namer. Your eyes are too green. You have the wrong number of fingers. Come back when you’re taller and you’ve found a decent pair of eyes.”
We stared at each other for a long while. Finally he shrugged and started walking again. “Fine. I’ll show you why.”
We followed the road north. Elodin strolled along, picking up stones and tossing them into the trees. He jumped to snatch leaves from low-hanging branches, his master’s robes billowing ridiculously. At one point he stopped and stood motionless and intent for nearly half an hour, staring at a fern swaying slowly in the wind.
But I kept the tip of my tongue firmly between my teeth. I didn’t ask, “Where are we going?” or “What are you looking at?” I knew a hundred stories about young boys who squandered questions or wishes by chatting them away. I had two questions left, and I was going to make them count.
Eventually we emerged from the forest, and the road became a path leading up a vast lawn to a huge manor house. Bigger than the Artificery, it had elegant lines, a red tile roof, high windows, arched doorways and pillars. There were fountains, flowers, hedges….
But something wasn’t quite right. The closer we got to the gates, the more I doubted this was some nobleman’s estate. Maybe it was something about the design of the gardens, or the fact that the wrought-iron fence surrounding the lawns was nearly ten feet tall and unclimbable to my well-trained thief’s eye.
Two serious-eyed men opened the gate, and we continued up the path toward the front doors. Elodin looked at me. “Have you heard of Haven yet?”
I shook my head.
“It has other names: the Rookery, the Crockery….”
The University asylum. “It’s huge. How…” I stopped before asking the question.
Elodin grinned, knowing he’d almost caught me. “Jeremy,” he called out to the large man who stood at the front door. “How many guests do we have today?”
“The desk could give you a count, sir,” he said uncomfortably.
“Take a wild guess,” Elodin said. “We’re all friends here.”
“Three-twenty?” the man said with a shrug. “Three-fifty?”
Elodin rapped on the thick timber door with a knuckle, and the man scrambled to unlock it. “How many more could we fit if we needed?” Elodin asked him.
“Another hundred-fifty easy.” Jeremy said, tugging the huge door open. “More in a pinch, I suppose.”
“See, Kvothe?” Elodin winked at me. “We’re ready.”
The entryway was huge, with stained glass windows and vaulted ceilings. The floor was marble polished to a mirror sheen.
The place was eerily silent. I couldn’t understand it. The Reftview Asylum in Tarbean was only a fraction the size of this place, and it sounded like a brothel full of angry cats. You could hear it from a mile away over the din of the city.
Elodin strolled up to a large desk where a young woman stood. “Why isn’t anyone outside, Emmie?”
She gave him an uneasy smile. “They’re too wild today, sir. We think there’s a storm coming in.” She pulled a ledger book off the shelf. “The moon’s getting full, too. You know how it gets.”
“Sure do.” Elodin crouched down and began to unlace his shoes. “Where did they stash Whin this time?”
She flipped a few pages in the ledger. “Second floor east. 247.”
Elodin stood back up and set his shoes on the desk. “Keep an eye on these, would you?” She gave him an uncertain smile and nodded.
I choked down another mouthful of questions. “It seems like the University goes to an awful lot of expense here,” I commented.
Elodin ignored me and turned to climb a wide marble staircase in his stocking feet. Then we entered a long, white hallway lined with wooden doors. For the first time I could hear the sounds I had expected in a place like this. Moans, weeping, incessant chattering, screaming, all very faint.
Elodin ran for a few steps, then stopped, his stocking feet gliding across the smooth marble floor, his master’s robes streaming out behind him. He repeated this: a few quick steps, then a long slide with his arms held out to the sides for balance.
I continued to pace along beside him. “I’d think the masters would find other, more academic uses for the University’s funds.”
Elodin didn’t look at me. Step. Step step step. “You’re trying to get me to answer questions you’re not asking.” Slide. “It’s not going to work.”
“You’re trying to trick me into asking questions,” I pointed out. “It seems only fair.”
Step step step. Slide. “So why the hell are you bothering with me, anyway?” Elodin asked. “Kilvin likes you well enough. Why not hitch your star to his wagon?”
“I think you know things I can’t learn anywhere else.”
“Things like what?”
“Things I’ve wanted to know since I first saw someone call the wind.”
“Name of the wind, was it?” Elodin raised his eyebrows. Step. Step. Step-step-step. “That’s tricky.” Sliiiiiide. “What makes you think I know anything about calling the wind?”
“Process of elimination,” I said. “None of the other masters do that sort of thing, so it must be your bailiwick.”
“By your logic I should also be in charge of Solinade dances, needlework, and horse thieving.”
We came to the end of the hall. Midslide, Elodin nearly bowled over a huge, broad-shouldered man carrying a hardback. “Beg your pardon, sir,” he said, though it obviously wasn’t his fault.
“Timothy,” Elodin pointed a long finger at him. “Come with us.”
Elodin led the way through several shorter hallways, eventually coming to a heavy wooden door with a sliding panel at eye level. Elodin opened it and peered through. “How’s he been?”
“Quiet,” the hulking man said. “I don’t think he’s slept much.”