The Wise Man's Fear (The Kingkiller Chronicle, Book 2) by Patrick Rothfuss
Location 1941:
We stood outside the door, staring at each other while the smoke billowed past. I decided to take a different tack on the problem. "I understand your hesitation, Master Elodin," I said. "Sometimes I don’t think things all the way through." "Obviously." "And I’ll admit there have been times when my actions have been …" I paused, trying to think of something more humble than "ill-considered." "Stupid beyond all mortal ken?" Elodin said helpfully.
Location 2489:
Elodin nodded again and took a bite of his cinnas. As he chewed, he turned to look at me. By the light of the moon, I saw his eyes. They were cool, thoughtful, and perfectly, utterly sane.
Location 2585:
Next I went to Ledgers and Lists, where I signed up for observation in the Medica along with Physiognomy and Physic. Next was Ferrous and Cupric Metallurgy with Cammar in the Fishery. Last came Adept Sympathy with Elxa Dal. It was only then I realized I didn’t know the name of Elodin’s class. I leafed through the ledger until I spotted Elodin’s name, then ran my finger back to where the title of the class was listed in fresh dark ink: "Introduction to Not Being a Stupid Jackass."
Location 2912:
The Chandrian move from place to place, But they never leave a trace. They hold their secrets very tight, But they never scratch and they never bite. They never fight and they never fuss. In fact they are quite nice to us. They come and they go in the blink of an eye, Like a bright bolt of lightning out of the sky.
Location 3889:
"We heard …" Sim paused and turned to look at Mola. "He’s going to be okay, right?" "He’ll be fine," Mola said. "Provided his temperature levels out." She picked up a key-gauge and stuck it in my mouth. "I know this will be hard for you, but try to keep your mouth shut for a minute." "In that case," Simmon said with a grin, "we heard Kilvin took you somewhere private and showed you something that made you faint like a little sissy girl."
Location 3919:
"He’s not upset because you didn’t trust him, or that you tricked Sim. He’s upset because you found out what asinine lengths he is willing to go to in order to impress a woman." He looked at me. "Is ‘asinine’ the right word?" I took a deep breath and let it out. "Pretty much," I admitted. "I chose it because it sounded like ass," Wil said.
Location 5019:
Yet fast-found for friendship fair the book-bringer Hot comes the huntress Fela, flushed with finding Breathless her breast her high blood rising To ripen the red-cheek rouge-bloom of beauty. "That sort of thing," Simmon said absently, his eyes still scanning the pages in front of him. I saw Fela turn her head to look at Simmon, almost as if she were surprised to see him sitting there. No, it was almost as if up until that point, he’d just been occupying space around her, like a piece of furniture. But this time when she looked at him, she took all of him in. His sandy hair, the line of his jaw, the span of his shoulders beneath his shirt. This time when she looked, she actually saw him. Let me say this. It was worth the whole awful, irritating time spent searching the Archives just to watch that moment happen. It was worth blood and the fear of death to see her fall in love with him. Just a little. Just the first faint breath of love, so light she probably didn’t notice it herself. It wasn’t dramatic, like some bolt of lightning with a crack of thunder following. It was more like when flint strikes steel and the
Location 5138:
There was a burst of startled laughter from everyone except Fela and myself. I scowled. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and her flush spread down her neck until it was hidden by her shirt. Elodin turned his back to her and looked me in the eye. "Re’lar Kvothe," he said seriously. "I am trying to wake your sleeping mind to the subtle language the world is whispering. I am trying to seduce you into understanding. I am trying to teach you." He leaned forward until his face was almost touching mine. "Quit grabbing at my tits."
Location 5665:
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 piss, 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.
Location 5766:
"Honestly, boy," I said to him. "I don’t know what you were thinking. You’d think a member of the Arcanum would have more sense."
Location 5779:
Sim screwed his face up into an exaggerated scowl and gestured wildly. "Listen to me, you daft bint!" he said in a fair imitation of Ambrose’s Vintish accent. "My rooms were on fire!"
Location 5934:
cowl of the robe was nothing but blackness. Over his head were three moons, a full moon, a half moon, and one that was just a crescent. Next to him were two candles. One was yellow with a bright orange flame. The other candle sat underneath his outstretched hand: it was grey with a black flame, and the space around it was smudged and darkened.
Location 5950:
I recognized him then. It wasn’t a leaf on his chest. It was a tower wrapped in flame. His bloody, outstretched hand wasn’t demonstrating something. It was making a gesture of rebuke toward Haliax and the rest. He was holding up his hand to stop them. This man was one of the Amyr. One of the Ciridae.
Location 6201:
Even after all the long years, the old man remembered the way she had licked the blood from the back of her hand like a cat.
Location 6384:
"Technically speaking, the Edema Ruh are a nomadic people," I said dryly. "I heard a story once that said the leaders of their tribes aren’t great warriors, they’re singers. Their songs can heal the sick and make the trees dance."
Location 6985:
Almost shyly, Fela held out her hand. But Elodin shook his head. "Left hand," he said firmly. "The right means something else entirely. None of you are anywhere near ready for that."
Location 7729:
Days passed. And I sat idle as winter slowly withdrew from the University. Frost left the corners of windowpanes, drifts of snow dwindled, and trees began to show their first greening buds. Eventually Simmon caught his first glimpse of bare leg beneath a flowing dress and declared spring had officially arrived.
Location 10139:
Her sudden change in manner caught me off my guard. Since we had met in Severen I had courted her with wild, hopeless pageantry, and she had matched me without missing a beat. Each flattery, each witticism, each piece of playful banter she returned to me, not in an echo but a harmony. Our back-and-forth had been like a duet. But this was different. Her tone was less playful and more plain. It was so sudden a change that I was at a loss for words.
Location 10163:
"There are a thousand girls who could walk with you along the moonlit garden paths," Denna said breathlessly. "But there’s only one who’ll hide in the shrubbery with you." She grinned at me, her voice bubbling with amusement.
Location 10574:
I couldn’t agree more, but decided it wouldn’t be prudent to say so. "And what does he think of me?" "What?" she asked, confused. "Oh. He doesn’t know about you," she said. "Why would he?" I tried to give a nonchalant shrug, but I couldn’t have been very convincing as she burst out laughing. "Poor Kvothe. I’m teasing you. I only tell him about the ones that come prowling around, panting and sniffing like dogs. You’re not like them. You’ve always been different." "I’ve always prided myself on my lack of panting and sniffing."
Location 12189:
Hespe reluctantly put the pieces of her scowl away. Then she looked down at her hands, frowning.
Location 12269:
My interjection didn’t slow Dedan down the least bit. It just pointed him in my direction. "What would you know about adults?" he said. "I’m sick and tired of being talked down to by some boy who probably doesn’t even have hair on his balls yet." "I’m sure if the Maer had known how hairy your balls were, he would have put you in charge," I said with what I hoped was infuriating calmness. "Unfortunately, it seems he missed that fact and decided on me instead." Dedan drew a breath, but Tempi broke in before he could start. "Balls," the Adem said curiously. "What is balls?" All the air went out of Dedan in a rush, and he turned to look at Tempi, half irritated, half amused. The big mercenary chuckled and made a very clear motion between his legs with a cupped hand. "You know. Balls," he said without a trace of self-consciousness. Behind his back, Hespe rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "Ah," Tempi said, nodding to show his understanding. "Why is the Maer looking at hairy balls?" A pause, then a storm of laughter rolled through our camp, exploding with all the force of the pent-up tension that had been ready to boil into a fight. Hespe laughed herself breathless, clutching at her stomach. Marten wiped tears from his eyes. Dedan laughed so hard he couldn’t stand upright and ended up crouching with one hand on the ground to steady himself.
Location 13572:
Felurian’s voice was not resonant. It did not fill the forest glade. Hers was the hush before a sudden summer storm. It was soft as a brushing feather. It made my heart step sideways in my chest.
Location 14493:
Maybe the soft creaking of your tendons as you clench your fists is like a sweet symphony to me. Oh, yes it is. And you can be sure.
Location 14649:
Kvothe gave a wry smile. "So after a person meets the Cthaeh, all their choices will be the wrong ones." Bast shook his head, his face pale and drawn. "Not wrong, Reshi, catastrophic. Jax spoke to the Cthaeh before he stole the moon, and that sparked the entire creation war. Lanre spoke to the Cthaeh before he orchestrated the betrayal of Myr Tariniel. The creation of the Nameless. The Scaendyne. They can all be traced back to the Cthaeh."
Location 14777:
I gave it a questioning look. "Did you run into trouble?" I asked while the room buzzed chaotically around us. Dedan shook his head. "Hespe," he said simply. "She didn’t take too kindly to the thought of me running off after that faerie woman. She sort of…convinced me to stay." "She broke your arm?" I remembered my parting glimpse of Hespe holding him to the ground. The big man looked down at his feet. "A bit. She sort of held onto it while I tried to twist away." He gave a slightly sheepish smile. "I guess you could say we broke it together." I clapped him on his good shoulder and laughed. "That’s sweet. Truly touching." I would have continued, but the room had quieted. Everyone was watching us, watching me.
Location 14988:
"Seven things stand before The entrance to the Lackless door. One of them a ring unworn One a word that is forsworn One a time that must be right One a candle without light One a son who brings the blood One a door that holds the flood One a thing tight-held in keeping Then comes that which comes with sleeping."
Location 15474:
As Vashet approached, the first thing I noticed was that she didn’t wear her sword on her hip. Instead she slung it over her shoulder, just as I carried my lute. She walked with the most subtle, solid confidence I have ever seen, as if she knew she ought to swagger, but couldn’t quite be bothered.
Location 15629:
"Or I was really trying to run you off," Vashet finished as she sat on the bench opposite me. "What if I’d been telling the truth and thumped you bloody?" I shrugged. "At least I’d have known. But it seemed like long odds that Shehyn would choose someone like that. If she’d wanted me beaten she could have let Carceret do it." I cocked my head. "Out of curiosity, which was it? Initiation or test of resolve? Does everyone go through this?" She shook her head. "Resolve. I needed to make sure of you. I wasn’t going to waste my time teaching a coward or someone afraid of a little smack or two. I also needed to know you were dedicated." I nodded. "That seemed the most likely. I thought I’d save myself several days of welts and force the issue." Vashet gave me a long look, curiosity plain on her face. "I will admit, I’ve never had a student offer himself up for a vicious beating in order to prove he’s worth my time." "This was nothing," I said nonchalantly. "Once I jumped off a roof."
Location 15886:
With that one disappointing exception, Vashet was a sparkling font of information. She answered my endless questions quickly and clearly. As a result, I couldn’t help but feel that my skill in speaking and fighting was progressing in great leaps and bounds. Vashet did not share my enthusiasm, and was not bashful about saying so. Eloquently. In two languages.
Location 16092:
I brought out my lute and practiced my chording a bit, all five of my clever fingers flicking up and down the long neck of the lute. But my right hand ached to strum and pick notes from the strings. It was as frustrating as trying to kiss someone using only one lip, and I soon gave up.
Location 16659:
She only stopped when Vashet returned. I watched from a distance as Vashet stormed over and gave the girl a stern telling off. I couldn’t hear what was said, but their body language spoke volumes. Celean looked down and shuffled her feet. Vashet shook a finger and cuffed the young girl on the side of her head. It was the same scolding any child receives. Stay out of the neighbor’s garden. Don’t tease the Bentons’ sheep. Don’t play tag among the thousand spinning knives of your people’s sacred tree.
Location 18799:
"Remember it was bandits who took them," I said as I turned to leave. "And remember it was one of the Edema Ruh who brought them back."
Location 20135:
You couldn’t merely say "the Chancellor’s socks." Oh, no. Too simple. All ownership was oddly dual: as if the Chancellor owned his socks, but at the same time the socks somehow also gained ownership of the Chancellor. This altered the use of both words in complex grammatical ways. As if the simple act of owning socks somehow fundamentally changed the nature of a person.
Location 20525:
I grinned at her and pulled my hand out of the water. She turned in time for the wave to hit her. It was only as high as her waist, but it was enough to unbalance her. She went under in a swirl of dress and hair and bubbles. The current carried her to me and I helped her to her feet, laughing. She came to the surface looking three-days drowned. "Not fair!" she sputtered indignantly. "Not fair!" "I disagree," I said. "You’re the fairest water-maid I hope to see today." She splashed at me. "Flatter all you like, the truth remains for God to see. You cheated. I used honest trickery."
Updated Sep 30, 2019:
Location 5019:
Yet fast-found for friendship fair the book-bringer Hot comes the huntress Fela, flushed with finding Breathless her breast her high blood rising To ripen the red-cheek rouge-bloom of beauty. "That sort of thing," Simmon said absently, his eyes still scanning the pages in front of him. I saw Fela turn her head to look at Simmon, almost as if she were surprised to see him sitting there. No, it was almost as if up until that point, he’d just been occupying space around her, like a piece of furniture. But this time when she looked at him, she took all of him in. His sandy hair, the line of his jaw, the span of his shoulders beneath his shirt. This time when she looked, she actually saw him. Let me say this. It was worth the whole awful, irritating time spent searching the Archives just to watch that moment happen. It was worth blood and the fear of death to see her fall in love with him. Just a little. Just the first faint breath of love, so light she probably didn’t notice it herself. It wasn’t dramatic, like some bolt of lightning with a crack of thunder following. It was more like when flint strikes steel and the spark fades almost too fast for you to see. But still, you know it’s there, down where you can’t see, kindling.
Location 5933:
I unrolled the paper further. There was a second man, or rather the shape of a man in a great hooded robe. Inside the cowl of the robe was nothing but blackness. Over his head were three moons, a full moon, a half moon, and one that was just a crescent. Next to him were two candles. One was yellow with a bright orange flame. The other candle sat underneath his outstretched hand: it was grey with a black flame, and the space around it was smudged and darkened.
Location 12189:
Hespe reluctantly put the pieces of her scowl away. Then she looked down at her hands, frowning. Her mouth moved silently for a moment, then she nodded to herself and continued.
Location 14699:
I slept and I woke. She gave me a ring made from a leaf, a cluster of golden berries, a flower that opened and closed at the stroking of a finger….
Updated: May 04, 2022
"Still," he said, "you’ve got to make hay while the sun shines."
"Has poor Threpe really been out stumping for you all this while?" I nodded. "I told him it was a lost cause." "It is if you keep thumbing your nose at folk," she said. "I swear I’ve never met a man who has your knack for lack of social grace. If you weren’t naturally charming, someone would have stabbed you by now." "You’re assuming," I muttered. Marie turned to my friends at the table. "It’s a pleasure to meet all of you." Wil nodded, and Sim smiled. Manet, however, came to his feet in a smooth motion and held out his hand. Marie took it, and Manet clasped it warmly between his own. "Marie," he said. "You intrigue me. Is there any chance I could buy you a drink and enjoy the pleasure of your conversation at some point tonight?" I was too startled to do anything but stare. Standing there, the two of them looked like badly matched bookends. Marie stood six inches taller than Manet, her boots making her long legs look even longer. Manet, on the other hand, looked as he always did, grizzled and disheveled, plus older than Marie by at least a decade. Marie blinked and cocked her head a bit, as if considering. "I’m here with some friends right now," she said. "It might be late by the time I finish up with them." "When makes no difference to me," Manet said easily. "I’m willing to lose some sleep if it comes to that. I can’t think of the last time I shared the company of a woman who speaks her mind firmly and without hesitation. Your kind are in short supply these days." Marie looked him over again. Manet met her eye and flashed a smile so confident and charming that it belonged on stage. "I’ve no desire to pull you away from your friends," he said, "but you’re the first fiddler in ten years that’s set my feet dancing. It seems a drink is the least I can do." Marie smiled back at him, half amused, half wry. "I’m on the second tier right now," she said, gesturing toward the stairway. "But I should be free in, say, two hours.…" "You’re terribly kind," he said. "Should I come and find you?" "You should," she said. Then gave him a thoughtful look as she turned to walk away. Manet reclaimed his seat and took a drink. Simmon looked as flabbergasted as we all felt. "What the hell was that?" he demanded. Manet chuckled into his beard and leaned back in his chair, cradling his mug to his chest. "That," he said smugly, "is just one more thing I understand that you pups don’t. Take note. Take heed."
Elodin strode toward the large slate mounted on the wall and began to write a list of titles. His handwriting was surprisingly tidy. "These are important books," he said. "Read one of them." After a moment, Brean raised her hand. Then she realized it was pointless as Elodin still had his back to us. "Master Elodin?" she asked hesitantly. "Which one should we read?" He looked over his shoulder, not pausing in his writing at all. "I don’t care," he said, plainly irritated. "Pick one. The others you should skim in a desultory fashion. Look at the pictures. Smell them if nothing else." He turned back to look at the slate. The seven of us looked at each other. The only sound in the room was the tapping of Elodin’s chalk. "Which one is the most important?" I asked. Elodin made a disgusted noise. "I don’t know," he said. "I haven’t read them." He wrote En Temerant Voistra on the board and circled it. "I don’t even know if this one is in the Archives at all." He put a question mark next to it and continued to write. "I will tell you this. None of them are in Tomes. I made sure of that. You’ll have to hunt for them in the Stacks. You’ll have to earn them." He finished the last title and took a step back, nodding to himself. There were twenty books in all. He drew stars next to three of them, underlined two others, and drew a sad face next to the last one on the list. Then he left, striding out of the room without another word, leaving us thinking on the nature of names and wondering what we had gotten ourselves into.
Books are a poor substitute for female companionship, but they are easier to find.
It is not for nothing that they came to call me Kvothe the Arcane. My Alar was like a blade of Ramston steel.
"Your loss," Sim said absently as he turned a few pages. "Eld Vintic poetry is thunderous. It pounds at you." "What’s the meter like?" I asked, curious despite myself. "I don’t know anything about meter," Simmon said distractedly as he ran a finger down the page in front of him. "It’s like this: "Sought we the Scrivani word-work of Surthur Long-lost in ledger all hope forgotten. Yet fast-found for friendship fair the book-bringer Hot comes the huntress Fela, flushed with finding Breathless her breast her high blood rising To ripen the red-cheek rouge-bloom of beauty. "That sort of thing," Simmon said absently, his eyes still scanning the pages in front of him. I saw Fela turn her head to look at Simmon, almost as if she were surprised to see him sitting there. No, it was almost as if up until that point, he’d just been occupying space around her, like a piece of furniture. But this time when she looked at him, she took all of him in. His sandy hair, the line of his jaw, the span of his shoulders beneath his shirt. This time when she looked, she actually saw him. Let me say this. It was worth the whole awful, irritating time spent searching the Archives just to watch that moment happen. It was worth blood and the fear of death to see her fall in love with him. Just a little. Just the first faint breath of love, so light she probably didn’t notice it herself. It wasn’t dramatic, like some bolt of lightning with a crack of thunder following. It was more like when flint strikes steel and the spark fades almost too fast for you to see. But still, you know it’s there, down where you can’t see, kindling.
"I am Kvothe." "You seem so certain of it," he said, looking at me intently. Another pause. "They call me Puppet." "Who is ‘they’?" "Who are they?" he corrected, raising a finger. I smiled. "Who are they then?" "Who were they then?" "Who are they now?" I clarified, my smile growing wider.
"The point," Bredon said grandly, "is to play a beautiful game." He lifted his hands and shrugged, his face breaking into a beatific smile. "Why would I want to win anything other than a beautiful game?"
She shrugged and nodded. "have they the will, and know the way. there are a thousand half-cracked doors that lead between my world and yours."
Cyphus bears the blue flame. Stercus is in thrall of iron. Ferule chill and dark of eye. Usnea lives in nothing but decay. Grey Dalcenti never speaks. Pale Alenta brings the blight. Last there is the lord of seven: Hated. Hopeless. Sleepless. Sane. Alaxel bears the shadow’s hame."
"What is the heart of the Lethani?" I asked Vashet. "Success and right action." "Which is the more important, success or rightness?" "They are the same. If you act rightly success follows." "But others may succeed by doing wrong things," I pointed out. "Wrong things never lead to success," Vashet said firmly. "If a man acts wrongly and succeeds, that is not the way. Without the Lethani there is no true success."
"You were right," Meluan said softly. "He’s like a child with a midwinter’s gift." "You haven’t seen the best of it yet," Alveron replied. "Wait until he starts. The boy has a mind like an iron hammer."