The Name of the Wind Read Free Page A

room, a pair of chairs, and a small desk. The only other furniture was a narrow bed with a large, dark chest at its foot. Nothing decorated the walls or covered the wooden floor.
    There were footsteps in the hall, and a young man stepped into the room carrying a bowl of stew that steamed and smelled of pepper. He was dark and charming, with a quick smile and cunning eyes. “You haven’t been this late in weeks,” he said as he handed over the bowl. “There must have been good stories tonight, Reshi.”
    Reshi was another of the innkeeper’s names, a nickname almost. The sound of it tugged one corner of his mouth into a wry smile as he sank into the deep chair in front of the fire. “So, what did you learn today, Bast?”
    “Today, master, I learned why great lovers have better eyesight than great scholars.”
    “And why is that, Bast?” Kote asked, amusement touching the edges of his voice.
    Bast closed the door and returned to sit in the second chair, turning it to face his teacher and the fire. He moved with a strange delicacy and grace, as if he were close to dancing. “Well Reshi, all the rich books are found inside where the light is bad. But lovely girls tend to be out in the sunshine and therefore much easier to study without risk of injuring one’s eyes.”
    Kote nodded. “But an exceptionally clever student could take a book outside, thus bettering himself without fear of lessening his much-loved faculty of sight.”
    “I thought the same thing, Reshi. Being, of course, an exceptionally clever student.”
    “Of course.”
    “But when I found a place in the sun where I could read, a beautiful girl came along and kept me from doing anything of the sort,” Bast finished with a flourish.
    Kote sighed. “Am I correct in assuming you didn’t manage to read any of Celum Tinture today?”
    Bast managed to look somewhat ashamed.
    Looking into the fire, Kote tried to assume a stern face and failed. “Ah Bast, I hope she was lovely as a warm wind in the shade. I’m a bad teacher to say it, but I’m glad. I don’t feel up to a long bout of lessons right now.” There was a moment of silence. “Carter was attacked by a scraeling tonight.”
    Bast’s easy smile fell away like a cracked mask, leaving his face stricken and pale. “The scrael?” He came halfway to his feet as if he would bolt from the room, then gave an embarrassed frown and forced himself back down into his chair. “How do you know? Who found his body?”
    “He’s still alive, Bast. He brought it back. There was only one.”
    “There’s no such thing as one scraeling,” Bast said flatly. “You know that.”
    “I know,” Kote said. “The fact remains there was only one.”
    “And he killed it?” Bast said. “It couldn’t have been a scraeling. Maybe—”
    “Bast, it was one of the scrael. I saw it.” Kote gave him a serious look. “He was lucky, that’s all. Even so he was badly hurt. Forty-eight stitches. I used up nearly all my gut.” Kote picked up his bowl of stew. “If anyone asks, tell them my grandfather was a caravan guard who taught me how to clean and stitch a wound. They were too shocked to ask about it tonight, but tomorrow some of them might get curious. I don’t want that.” He blew into his bowl, raising a cloud of steam around his face.
    “What did you do with the body?”
    “ I didn’t do anything with it,” Kote said pointedly. “ I am just an innkeeper. This sort of thing is quite beyond me.”
    “Reshi, you can’t just let them muddle through this on their own.”
    Kote sighed. “They took it to the priest. He did all the right things for all the wrong reasons.”
    Bast opened his mouth, but Kote continued before he could say anything. “Yes, I made sure the pit was deep enough. Yes, I made sure there was rowan wood in the fire. Yes, I made sure it burned long and hot before they buried it. And yes, I made sure that no one kept a piece of it as a souvenir.” He scowled, his eyebrows drawing