Table of Contents Title Page Copyright Page Dedication CHAPTER ONE - Apple and Elderberry CHAPTER TWO - Holly CHAPTER THREE - Luck CHAPTER FOUR - Tar and Tin CHAPTER FIVE - The Eolian CHAPTER SIX - Love CHAPTER SEVEN - Admissions CHAPTER EIGHT - Questions CHAPTER NINE - A Civil Tongue CHAPTER TEN - Being Treasured CHAPTER ELEVEN - Haven CHAPTER TWELVE - The Sleeping Mind CHAPTER THIRTEEN - The Hunt CHAPTER FOURTEEN - The Hidden City CHAPTER FIFTEEN - Interesting Fact CHAPTER SIXTEEN - Unspoken Fear CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - Interlude—Parts CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - Wine and Blood CHAPTER NINETEEN - Gentlemen and Thieves CHAPTER TWENTY - The Fickle Wind CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - Piecework CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO - Slipping CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE - Principles CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR - Clinks CHAPTER TWENTY- FIVE - Wrongful Apprehension CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX - Trust CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN - Pressure CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT - Kindling CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE - Stolen CHAPTER THIRTY - More Than Salt CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE - The Crucible CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO - Blood and Ash CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE - Fire CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR - Baubles CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE - Secrets CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX - All This Knowing CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN - A Piece of Fire CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT - Kernels of Truth CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE - Contradictions CHAPTER FORTY - Puppet CHAPTER FORTY-ONE - The Greater Good CHAPTER FORTY-TWO - Penance CHAPTER FORTY-THREE - Without Word or Warning CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR - The Catch CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE - Consortation CHAPTER FORTY-SIX - Interlude—A Bit of Fiddle CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN - Interlude—The Hempen Verse CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT - A Significant Absence CHAPTER FORTY- NINE - The Ignorant Edema CHAPTER FIFTY - Chasing the Wind CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE - All Wise Men Fear CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO - A Brief Journey CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE - The Sheer CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR - The Messenger CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE - Grace CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX - Power CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN - A Handful of Iron CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT - Courting CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE - Purpose CHAPTER SIXTY - Wisdom’s Tool CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE - Deadnettle CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO - Crisis CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE - The Gilded Cage CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR - Flight CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE - A Beautiful Game CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX - Within Easy Reach CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN - Telling Faces CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT - The Cost of a Loaf CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE - Such Madness CHAPTER SEVENTY - Clinging CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE - Interlude—The Thrice-locked Chest CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO - Horses CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE - Blood and Ink CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR - Rumors CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE - The Players CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX - Tinder CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN - Pennysworth CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT - Another Road, Another Forest CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE - Signs CHAPTER EIGHTY - Tone CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE - The Jealous Moon CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO - Barbarians CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE - Lack of Sight CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR - The Edge of the Map CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE - Interlude—Fences CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX - The Broken Road CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN - The Lethani CHAPTER EIGHTY-EIGHT - Listening CHAPTER EIGHTY-NINE - Losing the Light CHAPTER NINETY - To Sing a Song About CHAPTER NINETY-ONE - Flame, Thunder, Broken Tree CHAPTER NINETY-TWO - Taborlin the Great CHAPTER NINETY-THREE - Mercenaries All CHAPTER NINETY-FOUR - Over Rock and Root CHAPTER NINETY-FIVE - Chased CHAPTER NINETY-SIX - The Fire Itself CHAPTER NINETY-SEVEN - Blood and Bitter Rue CHAPTER NINETY-EIGHT - The Lay of Felurian CHAPTER NINETY-NINE - Magic of a Different Kind CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED - Shaed CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED ONE - Close Enough to Touch CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWO - The Ever-Moving Moon CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THREE - Close Enough to Touch CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FOUR - The Cthaeh CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIVE - Interlude—A Certain Sweetness CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SIX - Returning CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SEVEN - Fire CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED EIGHT - Quick CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED NINE - Barbarians and Madmen CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TEN - Beauty and Branch CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED ELEVEN - A Liar and a Thief CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWELVE - The Hammer CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTEEN - Barbarian Tongue CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FOURTEEN - His Sharp and Single Arrow CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIFTEEN - Storm and Stone CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SIXTEEN - Height CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SEVENTEEN - Barbarian Cunning CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED EIGHTEEN - Purpose CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED NINETEEN - Hands CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY - Kindness CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-ONE - When Words Fail CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-TWO - Leaving CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-THREE - The Spinning Leaf CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-FOUR - Of Names CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-FIVE - Caesura CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-SIX - The First Stone CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-SEVEN - Anger CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-EIGHT - Names CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-NINE - Interlude—Din of Whispering CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY - Wine and Water CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-ONE - Black by Moonlight CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-TWO - The Broken Circle CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-THREE - Dreams CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-FOUR - The Road to Levinshir CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-FIVE - Homecoming CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-SIX - Interlude—Close to Forgetting CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-SEVEN - Questions CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-EIGHT - Notes CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-NINE - Lockless CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY - Just Rewards CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-ONE - A Journey to Return CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-TWO - Home CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-THREE - Bloodless CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-FOUR - Sword and Shaed CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-FIVE - Stories CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-SIX - Failures CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-SEVEN - Debts CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-EIGHT - The Stories of Stones CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-NINE - Tangled CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIFTY - Folly CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIFTY-ONE - Locks CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIFTY-TWO - Elderberry EPILOGUE The Kingkiller Chronicle: Day One: THE NAME OF THE WIND Day Two: THE WISE MAN’S FEAR For more about The Kingkiller Chronicle visit www.patrickrothfuss.com Copyright © 2011 by Patrick Rothfuss eISBN : 978-1-101-48640-5 All Rights Reserved DAW Book Collectors No 1540 DAW Books are distributed by Penguin Group (USA) Inc All characters and events in this book are fictitious Any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal, and punishable by law Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated DAW TRADEMARK REGISTERED U.S PAT AND TM OFF AND FOREIGN COUNTRIES —MARCA REGISTRADA HECHO EN U.S.A S.A http://us.penguingroup.com doesn’t understand he’s quick to grasp.” Bast’s fingers flicked idly at the edges of the blanket “And he trusts me.” “But doesn’t it seem contrived? The Cthaeh gives a boy a flower, one thing leads to another, and suddenly there’s a war.” Chronicler made a dismissive motion “Things don’t work that way It’s too much coincidence.” “It’s not coincidence.” Bast gave a short sigh “A blind man has to stumble through a cluttered room You don’t You use your eyes and pick the easy way It’s clear to you as anything The Cthaeh can see the future All futures We have to fumble through It doesn’t It merely looks and picks the most disastrous path It is the stone that stirs the avalanche It is the cough that starts the plague.” “But if you know the Cthaeh is trying to steer you,” Chronicler said “You would just something else He gives you the flower, and you just sell it.” Bast shook his head “The Cthaeh would know You can’t second-guess a thing that knows your future Say you sell the flower to the prince He uses the flower to heal his betrothed A year later she catches him diddling the chambermaid, hangs herself in disgrace, and her father launches an attack to avenge her honor.” Bast spread his hands helplessly “You still get civil war.” “But the young man who sold the flower stays safe.” “Probably not,” Bast said grimly “More likely he gets drunk as a lord, catches the pox, then knocks over a lamp and sets half the city on fire.” “You’re just making things up to prove your point,” Chronicler said “You’re not actually proving anything.” “Why I need to prove anything to you?” Bast asked “Why would I care what you think? Be happy in your silly little ignorance I’m doing you a favor by not telling you the truth.” “What truth is that?” Chronicler said, plainly irritated Bast gave a weary sigh, and looked up at Chronicler, his expression utterly empty of all hope “I would rather fight Haliax himself,” he said “I’d rather face all the Chandrian together than have ten words of conversation with the Cthaeh.” This gave Chronicler a bit of a pause “They’d kill you,” he said Something in his voice made it a question “Yes,” Bast said “Even so.” Chronicler stared at the dark-haired man sitting across from him, wrapped in a rag blanket “Stories taught you to fear the Cthaeh,” he said, disgust plain in his voice “And that fear is making you stupid.” Bast shrugged, his empty eyes drifting back to the nonexistent fire “You bore me, manling.” Chronicler stood up, stepped forward, and slapped Bast hard across the face Bast’s head rocked to the side, and for a moment he seemed too shocked to move Then he came to his feet in a blur of motion, blanket flying from his shoulders He grabbed Chronicler roughly by the throat, teeth bared, his eyes a deep, unbroken blue Chronicler looked him squarely in the eye “The Cthaeh set all of this in motion,” he said calmly “It knew you would attack me, and terrible things will come of it.” Bast’s furious expression went stiff, his eyes widening The tension left his shoulders as he let go of Chronicler’s throat He started to sink back down onto the cushions of the couch Chronicler drew back his arm and slapped him again If anything, the sound was even louder than before Bast bared his teeth again, then stopped His eyes darted to Chronicler, then away “The Cthaeh knows you fear it,” Chronicler said “It knows I would use that knowledge against you It’s still manipulating you If you don’t attack me, terrible things will come of it.” Bast froze as if paralyzed, trapped halfway between standing and sitting “Are you listening to me?” Chronicler said “Are you finally awake?” Bast looked up at the scribe with an expression of confused amazement A bright red mark was blossoming on his cheek He nodded, sinking slowly back onto the couch Chronicler drew back his arm “What will you if I hit you again?” “Beat ten colors of guts out of you,” Bast said earnestly Chronicler nodded and sat back down on his couch “I will, for the sake of argument, accept that the Cthaeh knows the future That means it can control many things.” He raised a finger “But not everything The fruit you ate today was still sweet in your mouth, wasn’t it?” Bast nodded slowly “If the Cthaeh is as malicious as you say, it would harm you in every way possible But it cannot It could not keep you from making your Reshi laugh this morning It could not keep you from enjoying the sun on your face or kissing the rosy cheeks of farmers’ daughters, could it?” A flicker of a grin found Bast’s face “I kissed more than that,” he said “That,” Chronicler said firmly, “is my point It cannot poison every thing we do.” Bast looked thoughtful, then sighed “You’re right in a way,” he said “But only an idiot sits in a burning house and thinks everything is fine because fruit is still sweet.” Chronicler made a point of looking around the room “The inn doesn’t look like it’s on fire to me.” Bast looked at him incredulously “The whole world is burning down,” he said “Open your eyes.” Chronicler frowned “Even ignoring everything else,” he said, bulling ahead “Felurian let him go She knew he’d spoken with the Cthaeh, surely she wouldn’t have loosed him on the world unless she had some way to guard against its influence.” Bast’s eyes brightened at the thought, then dimmed almost immediately He shook his head “You’re looking for depth in a shallow stream,” he said “I don’t follow you,” Chronicler demanded “What possible reason could she have for letting him go if he was truly dangerous?” “Reason?” Bast asked, dark amusement coloring his voice “No reason She’s got nothing to with reason She let him go because it pleased her pride She wanted him to go out into the mortal world and sing her praises Tell stories about her Pine for her That’s why she let him leave.” He sighed “I’ve already told you My folk are not famous for our good decisions.” “Perhaps,” Chronicler said “Or perhaps she simply recognized the futility of trying to second-guess the Cthaeh.” He made a nonchalant gesture “If whatever you’re going to is wrong, you might as well whatever you want.” Bast sat quietly for a long moment Then he nodded, faintly at first, then more firmly “You’re right,” he said “If everything is going to end in tears anyway, I should what I want.” Bast looked around the room, then came suddenly to his feet After a moment’s searching, he found a thick cloak crumpled on the floor He gave it a vigorous shake and wrapped it around his shoulders before heading to the window Then he stopped, came back to the couch, and rummaged in the cushions until he found a bottle of wine Chronicler looked puzzled “What are you doing? Are you going back to Shep’s wake?” Bast paused on his way back to the window, seeming almost surprised to see Chronicler still standing there “I am going about my business,” he said tucking the bottle of wine under his arm He opened the window and swung one foot outside “Don’t wait up.” Kvothe stepped briskly into his room, closing the door behind himself He moved about busily He cleared the cold ashes from the fireplace and set new wood in its place, sparking the fire to life with a fat red sulfur match He fetched a second blanket and spread it over his narrow bed Frowning slightly, he picked up the crumpled piece of paper from where it had fallen to the floor and returned it to the top of his desk where it sat next to the two other crumpled sheets Then, moving almost reluctantly, he made his way to the foot of his bed Taking a deep breath, he wiped his hands on his pants and knelt in front of the dark chest that sat there He rested both hands on the curved lid and closed his eyes, as if listening for something His shoulders shifted as he tugged against the lid Nothing happened Kvothe opened his eyes His mouth made a grim line His hands moved again, pulling harder, straining for a long moment before giving up Expressionless, Kvothe stood and walked to the window that overlooked the woods behind the inn He slid it open and leaned out, reaching down with both hands Then he drew himself back inside, clutching a slender wooden box Brushing away a coating of dust and spiderwebs, he opened the box Inside lay a key of dark iron and a key of bright copper Kvothe knelt in front of the chest again and fit the copper key into the iron lock With slow precision he turned it: left, then right, then left again, listening carefully to the faint clicks of some mechanism inside Then he lifted the iron key and fit it into the copper plate This key he did not turn He slid it deep into the lock, brought it halfway out, then pushed it back before drawing it free in a smooth, quick motion After replacing the keys in their box, he put his hands back on the sides of the lid in the same position as before “Open,” he said under his breath “Open, damn you Edro.” He lifted, his back and shoulders tensing with the effort of it The lid of the chest didn’t budge Kvothe gave a long sigh and leaned forward until his forehead pressed against the cool dark wood As the air rushed out of him, his shoulders sagged, leaving him looking small and wounded, terribly tired and older than his years His expression, however, showed no surprise, no grief It was merely resigned It was the expression of a man who has finally received bad news he’d already known was on the way CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIFTY-TWO Elderberry IT WAS A BAD night to be caught in the open The clouds had rolled in late, like a grey sheet pulled across the sky The wind was chill and gusty, with fits and starts of rain that spattered down heavily before fading into drizzle For all this, the two soldiers camped in a thicket near the road seemed to be enjoying themselves They’d found a woodcutter’s stash and built their fire so high and hot that the occasional gust of rain did little more than make it spit and hiss The two men were talking loudly, laughing the wild, braying laughter of men too drunk to care about the weather Eventually a third man emerged from the dark trees, stepping delicately over the trunk of a nearby fallen tree He was wet, if not soaked, and his dark hair was plastered flat to his head When the soldiers saw him, they lifted their bottles and called out an enthusiastic greeting “Didn’t know if you’d make it,” the blonde soldier said “It’s a shit night But it’s only fair you get your third.” “You’re wet through,” said the bearded one, lifting up a narrow yellow bottle “Suck on this It’s some fruit thing, but it kicks like a pony.” “Yours is girly piss,” the blonde soldier said, holding up his own “Here Now this here is a man’s drink.” The third man looked back and forth as if unable to decide Finally he lifted a finger, pointing at one bottle then the other as he began to chant Maple Maypole Catch and carry Ash and Ember Elderberry He ended pointing at the yellow bottle, then gripped it by the neck and lifted to his lips He took a long, slow drink, his throat working silently “Hey there,” said the bearded soldier “Save a bit!” Bast lowered the bottle and licked his lips He gave a dry, humorless chuckle “You got the right bottle,” he said “It’s elderberry.” “You’re nowhere near as chatty as you were this morning,” the blonde soldier said, cocking his head to one side “You look like your dog died Is everything alright?” “No,” Bast said “Nothing’s alright.” “It ain’t our fault if he figured it out,” the blonde one said quickly “We waited a bit after you left, just like you said But we’d been sitting for hours already Thought you were never going to leave.” “Hell,” the bearded man said, irritated “Does he know? He throw you out?” Bast shook his head and tipped the bottle back again “Then you ain’t got nothing to complain of.” The blonde soldier rubbed the side of his head, scowling “Silly bastard gave me a lump or two.” “He got it back with some to spare.” The bearded soldier grinned, rubbing his thumb across his knuckles “He’ll be pissing blood tomorrow.” “So it’s all good at the end,” the blonde soldier said philosophically, lurching unsteadily as he waved his bottle a little too dramatically “You got to skin your knuckles I got a drink of something lovely And we all made a heavy penny Everyone’s happy Everyone gets what they wanted most.” “I didn’t get what I wanted,” Bast said flatly “Not yet,” the bearded soldier said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a purse that made a weighty chink as he bounced it in his palm “Grab a piece of fire and we’ll divvy this up.” Bast looked around the circle of firelight, making no move to take a seat Then he began to chant again as he pointed at things randomly: a nearby stone, a log, a hatchet Fallow farrow Ash and oak Bide and borrow Chimney smoke He ended pointing at the fire He stepped close, stooped low, and pulled out a branch longer than his arm The far end was a solid knot of glowing coal “Hell, you’re drunker than I am,” the bearded soldier guffawed “That’s not what I meant when I said grab a piece of fire.” The blonde soldier rolled with laughter Bast looked down at the two men After a moment he began to laugh too It was a terrible sound, jagged and joyless It was no human laugh “Hoy,” the bearded man interrupted sharply, his expression no longer amused “What’s the matter with you?” It began to rain again, a gust of wind spattering heavy drops against Bast’s face His eyes were dark and intent There was another gust of wind that made the end of the branch flare a brilliant orange The hot coal traced a glowing arc through the air as Bast began to point it back and forth between the two men, chanting: Barrel Barley Stone and stave Wind and water Misbehave Bast finished with the burning branch pointing at the bearded man His teeth were red in the firelight His expression was nothing like a smile EPILOGUE A Silence of Three Parts IT WAS NIGHT AGAIN The Waystone Inn lay in silence, and it was a silence of three parts The most obvious part was a hollow, echoing quiet, made by things that were lacking If there had been a steady rain it would have drummed against the roof, sluiced the eaves, and washed the silence slowly out to sea If there had been lovers in the beds of the inn, they would have sighed and moaned and shamed the silence into being on its way If there had been music but no, of course there was no music In fact there were none of these things, and so the silence remained Outside the Waystone, the noise of distant revelry blew faintly through the trees A strain of fiddle Voices Stomping boots and clapping hands But the sound was slender as a thread, and a shift in the wind broke it, leaving only rustling leaves and something almost like the far-off shrieking of an owl That faded too, leaving nothing but the second silence, waiting like an endless indrawn breath The third silence was not an easy thing to notice If you listened for an hour, you might begin to feel it in the chill metal of a dozen locks turned tight to keep the night away It lay in rough clay jugs of cider and the hollow taproom gaps where chairs and tables ought to be It was in the mottling ache of bruises that bloomed across a body, and it was in the hands of the man who wore the bruises as he rose stiffly from his bed, teeth clenched against the pain The man had true-red hair, red as flame His eyes were dark and distant, and he moved with the subtle certainty of a thief in the night He made his way downstairs There, behind the tightly shuttered windows, he lifted his hands like a dancer, shifted his weight, and slowly took one single perfect step The Waystone was his, just as the third silence was his This was appropriate, as it was the greatest silence of the three, wrapping the others inside itself It was deep and wide as autumn’s ending It was heavy as a great river-smooth stone It was the patient, cut-flower sound of a man who is waiting to die Table of Contents Title Page Copyright Page Dedication CHAPTER ONE - Apple and Elderberry CHAPTER TWO - Holly CHAPTER THREE - Luck CHAPTER FOUR - Tar and Tin CHAPTER FIVE - The Eolian CHAPTER SIX - Love CHAPTER SEVEN - Admissions CHAPTER EIGHT - Questions CHAPTER NINE - A Civil Tongue CHAPTER TEN - Being Treasured CHAPTER ELEVEN - Haven CHAPTER TWELVE - The Sleeping Mind CHAPTER THIRTEEN - The Hunt CHAPTER FOURTEEN - The Hidden City CHAPTER FIFTEEN - Interesting Fact CHAPTER SIXTEEN - Unspoken Fear CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - Interlude—Parts CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - Wine and Blood CHAPTER NINETEEN - Gentlemen and Thieves CHAPTER TWENTY - The Fickle Wind CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - Piecework CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO - Slipping CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE - Principles CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR - Clinks CHAPTER TWENTY- FIVE - Wrongful Apprehension CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX - Trust CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN - Pressure CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT - Kindling CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE - Stolen CHAPTER THIRTY - More Than Salt CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE - The Crucible CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO - Blood and Ash CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE - Fire CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR - Baubles CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE - Secrets CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX - All This Knowing CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN - A Piece of Fire CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT - Kernels of Truth CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE - Contradictions CHAPTER FORTY - Puppet CHAPTER FORTY-ONE - The Greater Good CHAPTER FORTY-TWO - Penance CHAPTER FORTY-THREE - Without Word or Warning CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR - The Catch CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE - Consortation CHAPTER FORTY-SIX - Interlude—A Bit of Fiddle CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN - Interlude—The Hempen Verse CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT - A Significant Absence CHAPTER FORTY- NINE - The Ignorant Edema CHAPTER FIFTY - Chasing the Wind CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE - All Wise Men Fear CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO - A Brief Journey CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE - The Sheer CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR - The Messenger CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE - Grace CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX - Power CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN - A Handful of Iron CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT - Courting CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE - Purpose CHAPTER SIXTY - Wisdom’s Tool CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE - Deadnettle CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO - Crisis CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE - The Gilded Cage CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR - Flight CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE - A Beautiful Game CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX - Within Easy Reach CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN - Telling Faces CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT - The Cost of a Loaf CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE - Such Madness CHAPTER SEVENTY - Clinging CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE - Interlude—The Thrice-locked Chest CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO - Horses CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE - Blood and Ink CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR - Rumors CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE - The Players CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX - Tinder CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN - Pennysworth CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT - Another Road, Another Forest CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE - Signs CHAPTER EIGHTY - Tone CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE - The Jealous Moon CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO - Barbarians CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE - Lack of Sight CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR - The Edge of the Map CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE - Interlude—Fences CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX - The Broken Road CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN - The Lethani CHAPTER EIGHTY-EIGHT - Listening CHAPTER EIGHTY-NINE - Losing the Light CHAPTER NINETY - To Sing a Song About CHAPTER NINETY-ONE - Flame, Thunder, Broken Tree CHAPTER NINETY-TWO - Taborlin the Great CHAPTER NINETY-THREE - Mercenaries All CHAPTER NINETY-FOUR - Over Rock and Root CHAPTER NINETY-FIVE - Chased CHAPTER NINETY-SIX - The Fire Itself CHAPTER NINETY-SEVEN - Blood and Bitter Rue CHAPTER NINETY-EIGHT - The Lay of Felurian CHAPTER NINETY-NINE - Magic of a Different Kind CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED - Shaed CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED ONE - Close Enough to Touch CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWO - The Ever-Moving Moon CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THREE - Close Enough to Touch CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FOUR - The Cthaeh CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIVE - Interlude—A Certain Sweetness CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SIX - Returning CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SEVEN - Fire CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED EIGHT - Quick CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED NINE - Barbarians and Madmen CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TEN - Beauty and Branch CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED ELEVEN - A Liar and a Thief CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWELVE - The Hammer CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTEEN - Barbarian Tongue CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FOURTEEN - His Sharp and Single Arrow CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIFTEEN - Storm and Stone CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SIXTEEN - Height CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SEVENTEEN - Barbarian Cunning CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED EIGHTEEN - Purpose CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED NINETEEN - Hands CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY - Kindness CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-ONE - When Words Fail CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-TWO - Leaving CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-THREE - The Spinning Leaf CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-FOUR - Of Names CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-FIVE - Caesura CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-SIX - The First Stone CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-SEVEN - Anger CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-EIGHT - Names CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-NINE - Interlude—Din of Whispering CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY - Wine and Water CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-ONE - Black by Moonlight CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-TWO - The Broken Circle CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-THREE - Dreams CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-FOUR - The Road to Levinshir CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-FIVE - Homecoming CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-SIX - Interlude—Close to Forgetting CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-SEVEN - Questions CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-EIGHT - Notes CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-NINE - Lockless CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY - Just Rewards CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-ONE - A Journey to Return CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-TWO - Home CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-THREE - Bloodless CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-FOUR - Sword and Shaed CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-FIVE - Stories CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-SIX - Failures CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-SEVEN - Debts CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-EIGHT - The Stories of Stones CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-NINE - Tangled CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIFTY - Folly CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIFTY-ONE - Locks CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIFTY-TWO - Elderberry EPILOGUE ... the wide windows of the inn He stood there for a long moment, looking at the dirt road running through the center of the town Bast gave another sigh and began to pace the room He moved with the. .. starter from the clay jar in the pantry, kneaded the dough, then rounded the loaves and set them to rise He shoveled ash from the stove in the kitchen and kindled a fire Next he moved into the common... through the kitchen, and into the pantry After that, the men made their way back to the common room, each on their own side of the bar There was a moment of silence as Graham looked around the empty