I ran after Felurian, without a single thought of falling, without fear. But fall I did. It was not until after some time had passed that I became aware I had not fallen over the root of a tree, but that someone had launched himself on me. Tempi's slender frame it was that I felt lying on me.
"For Tehlu's sake! Are you out of your mind? That was Felurian, fairest of all women!" And I could have caught her. For once I had encountered real magic, and now it was gone.
"I was out of my mind," Tempi admitted after some consideration. "But am not anymore. She is Felurian, and she would have killed me – or you."
"You she might have killed, but not me. I would have escaped her." True, there was some risk, but I would have wriggled my way out of her clutches, somehow.
"No Kvothe," he replied softly. "You would not. Your mind plays tricks on you. It is only because you desire to have sex with her so very much that your mind is looking for excuses. Trust me, she would have killed you. I have learnt to control myself, and the hardest part of that was to learn that my mind would, now and then, lie to me when I desire something."
"You know nothing about me. I killed all those ..." I fell silent, suspecting that Tempi did not approve of the manner in which I had achieved that goal. To tell the truth, I was a bit scared myself.
"And still you would not have escaped her if what is told about her is true." He was still lying on me and I began to wonder why he didn't move. "You are angry because you did not get to have sex. Maybe I can compensate you for that."
"How do you think you can ..." And suddenly, I wasn't able to fight it any longer. Have I related beforehand that his body was white as cream, that his scars were small, slender lines, too thin to have been caused by deep wounds, and that they were beautiful? Did I tell you that it flustered me to see him naked?
What I had felt for Felurian hadn't been lust alone; for the bigger part it had been curiosity. She was as beautiful as a painting. But Tempi was alive, and I desired him with the most ardent passion I was capable of.
I felt burning desire for a man. Up to that moment, I had been able to repress it, to deny even to myself that I felt anything of the sort, but it had been a long day, I was tired, disappointed and a little bit angry.
"Are you going to ... to ... do everything Felurian would have done had I caught her?" It sounded almost too good to be true. I must have misunderstood him.
"Except killing you? Yes, I will." He caressed my throat with one of his small hands, and I writhed.
"Not now," I managed to gasp. "At the inn. When we're alone."
When we rejoined Hespe, Marten (who had resisted Felurian all on his own), and Dedan (whose arm had been broken by Hespe in the process of saving him), the moments on the forest floor with Tempi seemed like a dream to me.
I decided not to remind him of his promise when we arrived at the inn. Aside from the uneasiness I felt about getting so close to another man, it wouldn't feel right to have him sleep with me just as a means of appeasing my anger.
It was not a long walk; after escaping Felurian we found the road soon, and from then on the only problem was Dedan's whining about his broken arm, obviously meant to make Hespe pity him. She ignored it, but still touched him often. I suspected that something more than arm-breaking had happened between them while I had been busy chasing Felurian.
At the inn, Hespe suggested to Dedan that they share a room and he consented. Tempi decided that I would share a room with him. When we were alone he matter-of-factly reminded me that I would have to take a bath before we had sex. "You do not have any sexually transmitted diseases, have you?"
I blushed. In my defense I can only say that I am a redhead and my skin is quite transparent. "Not that I know of." I didn't admit that I was still a virgin, for fear he would laugh at me.
"Very well. I shall take the risk, for I have long yearned for some intimacy ... the life of a travelling mercenary is hard and full of deprivation."
Even at that point I had not really grown accustomed to his way of talking. I suspected that he had learnt the language from a book. Which made some sense – it would have been idiotic to just wait until he got here to learn the language. After all, Adem mercenaries were a common sight here. They would have brought some of their knowledge home.
He took a bath, too, of course, but accepted my request that we wouldn't bathe together. "I will heed your ways as you heed mine," he commented, referring to the fact that I hadn't played the lute after he had told me that music was strictly taboo in his society and that he would like to know me better before he heard me play, if at all.
When I returned to the room he was lying on the bed, naked. "Do you have any special preferences?" he asked while I was nervously taking off my clothes.
"Not really." I was still reluctant to admit that I didn't have a clue.
He smiled with his hand. "I am sure you have, Kvothe. I shall find out."
And find out he did. He touched me reluctantly, but with the expertise of a musician who can play the instrument and has just gotten a new one to which he is not accustomed. Soon, though, he had found out all my quirks and peculiarities, and played me finely, making my own true music, the music that had slumbered in me without my own knowledge, and which had been waited until that moment to be awakened.
Some might take offense at this way of seeing things, not understanding how an Edema Ruh views his music. They might think I degrade myself. They might consider me effeminate, or submissive, more passive than a proper man ought to be.
Those people do not understand music, or love, or me.
"Was it ... was it okay for you?" I asked self-consciously when he had finished. He had loved many men, and probably women, too, while I had been wholly inexperienced up to now.
"Oh yes, it was," he replied softly. "I have heard about music ... sometimes a barbarian might enjoy a symphony, sometimes she might be in the mood for a silly little song."
"That's all I am for you? A silly little song?" I had expected it, but nevertheless, I was hurt.
"A nice little song," he reassured me. "I did enjoy it very much. You do not look down on little songs, do you?"
"No." I relaxed. He must have understood how much I love music. A little song is just as good as a symphony; it all depends on what mood you're in. And apparently, he was in the mood for the silly little song that was Kvothe.