Disclaimer: I'm only playing in Pat's beautiful playground, and to keep things canon-compliant, I have borrowed a bit of dialogue from canon in this chapter.

Chapter 27: All that Finding

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Things with Sovoy fizzled out quickly enough. Having seen Kvothe, truly knowing that he was just across the river, a mere mile away, made it impossible to maintain the lie I had woven. And the more Sovoy clung to me, the harder I pushed him away.

He was loath to let me go. He sent me gifts. Rolls of scripted poetry. Roses. He showed up at the Silver Shack, where I had taken rooms, and enquired after me for days. It was enough for me to abandon my rooms and vanish, stealing off to Tarbean under the cover of darkness. I stayed for nearly a span, hoping that was long enough for Sovoy to forget me and stop searching for my face.

But I could only stay away for so long. My mind, which had been so successful with putting thoughts of Kvothe aside when I had settled in Anilin, was now overwhelmed with fond imaginings of him. And all the entanglements I tried to weave in his absence fell painfully short. Suitors. Potential patrons. All failures. My heart wasn't in it. So I returned, and sought out Kvothe at last.

After making several careful inquiries, I learned that he had taken up residence at a small inn and tavern called Anker's across the river, where he was employed as the house musician. I hadn't ever been to Anker's before; I had barely ventured across the river, into the sprawling complex I called University Town. But as I'd already told him that night in the Eolian, Aloine would do the finding this time.

Anker's was not what I expected. It was lively, packed and bright — abuzz with a hundred conversations. A bit low class, but not so much that it felt unsafe. The majority of the crowd appeared to be students from The University. It seemed a bit of an odd choice for someone with Kvothe's skills, who could have likely secured a position in many of the nicer inns around. But perhaps he liked the simplicity of this place. The roughly hewn wooden tables. The enthusiastic singing of the crowd, threaded together by the sounds of his lute. It wasn't the sort of place pretending to be anything else. I decided it said a fair bit about his character.

I watched him for nearly an hour from one of the tables in the back as he played his way through drinking songs and ballads. Through fast jigs that made the drunker patrons dance. I was enthusiastically singing along to Drover's Daughters with the crowd when I happened to catch his eye at last. I waved, grinning, and he seemed so surprised to see me that he fumbled through the closing of the song, the melody falling away in a jumble of disjointed notes. The crowd laughed and cheered and booed in equal measure, and Kvothe hopped off the hearth and made his way over to me.

"I'd heard you were playing on this side of the river," I said, rising to greet him. "But I can't imagine how you keep the job if you fall apart every time a girl gives you a wink."

He flushed slightly, his cheeks reddening to clash spectacularly with his hair." It doesn't happen that often."

"The winking or the falling apart?" I teased. The question seemed to embarrass him further, so I abandoned the pestering. "How long will you be playing tonight?"

"Not much longer."

I smiled. "Good. Come away with me afterward, I need someone to walk with."

He hurried away, finding his spot before the fire once again before leading the room into a hearty rendition of Tinker Tanner, the world's favorite drinking song. The crowd went wild as soon as he struck the opening chords, and he lifted his hands from the lute, clapping out the rhythm instead. Within minutes, every person in the room except for me was pounding out the tune in a thundering, clapping roar.

He sang a couple verses, inviting everyone to join in on the chorus. And then he stepped up beside a table, gesturing at them to sing the third verse on their own. A young man obliged, and then the room broke into the chorus again. Soon enough, the entire room seemed to be vying for a spot to fill a verse of their own. The song had left Kvothe behind; had become a living, breathing thing that belonged to not a single person, but the entire room and everyone in it.

Sensing he was about to make his escape, I slipped over to the door and waited for him to join me. Then we stepped out into the falling dusk.

"That was cleverly done," I commented, walking lightly beside him. "How long do you think they'll keep it up?"

"That will all depend on how quickly Anker manages to pull down drinks." He came to a sudden stop at the edge of a shadowed alley. "If you will excuse me a moment, I have to put my lute away."

"In an alley?"

"In my room." Before I could take a breath, he was climbing the side of the building. Jumping from window ledges to drainpipes. Effortlessly as a cat. He reached the first roof and hopped across the alley entirely to the roof of the bakery. The back again. I gasped. He reappeared moments later, his lute safely hidden away, and slipped back down to join me on the ground.

"Does Anker charge a penny every time you use his stairs?" I asked, a little shaken. The joke of it helped push the thought of the last time I had climbed down a drainpipe aside.

"I come and go at odd hours," he said, wiping his hands as he joined me again. "Am I correct in understanding that you are looking for a gentleman to walk with you tonight?"

I smiled, relaxing again. "Quite."

"That is unfortunate. I am no gentleman."

"I think that you are close enough."

"I would like to be closer."

"Then come walking with me," I insisted.

"It would please me greatly. However… what about Sovoy?"

I frowned, glancing sideways at him. He looked rather serious. Sovoy. Had he talked of me to Kvothe? I hoped not. "He's staked a claim on me then?"

"Well, not as such," he admitted. "But there are certain protocols involved…"

"A gentleman's agreement?" I said sarcastically. Had he been any other man, I knew he would have never bothered to ask. But he wasn't, and that was part of what drew me to him with such intensity. Now, it dampened my anger.

"More like honor among thieves, if you will."

I turned, my eyes meeting his. I held his gaze. "Kvothe. Steal me."

And he did.

The walk to Imre had never taken so long. We strolled for hours, exchanging sweet words and stories. He asked of Sovoy, and I admitted I hadn't seen him for ages, and that I had refuted his efforts to chase me down. I told him of my disdain for the roses he chose to shower me with. Every man chose roses. Always red. Always perfect. Always reminding me of the one night I wished to forget… though I didn't tell him that.

"What flower would you pick for me?" I asked him.

He didn't have a simple answer, but rather an entire list.

"Dandelion might be good," he suggested. "It is bright, and there is a brightness about you. But dandelion is common, and you are not a common creature."

He considered nightshade. Nettle. "Perhaps," he called it, and I pretended to be outraged.

"Except for your tongue it doesn't suit you," he agreed, before moving on to "Wild oat!"

I laughed at his enthuthiasm.

"Daisy is a good one," he mused. "Tall and slender, willing to grow by roadsides. A hearty flower, not too delicate. Daisy is self-reliant. I think it might suit you…"

Growing by the roadside. Self-reliant. Yes, that suited me. Still, he moved on before I could object. "But let us continue in our list. Iris? Too gaudy. Thistle, too distant. Violet, too brief. Trillium? Hmmm, there's a thing. A fair flower. Doesn't take to cultivation. The texture of the petals…" He turned to me abruptly, brushing two fingers gently along the side of my neck. I shivered.

"Smooth enough to match your skin," he said softly. "Just barely. But it is too close to the ground."

"This is quite a bouquet you've brought for me," I managed, after catching my breath. I found myself bringing a hand to my neck, where his fingers had grazed my skin. The touch lingered still, warmer than the late summer night.

He stopped, turning to face me.

"Selas flower."

"All this and you pick a flower I don't know?" I said softly. "What is a selas flower? Why?"

"It is a deep red flower that grows on a strong vine. Its leaves are dark and delicate. They grow best in shadowy places, but the flower itself finds stray sunbeams to bloom in." His eyes held mine. "That suits you. There is much of you that is both shadow and light. It grows in deep forests, and is rare because only skilled folk can tend one without harming it. It has a wondrous smell and is much sought and seldom found." His eyes stared into mine, his gaze penetrating. "Yes, since I am forced to pick, I would choose selas."

"You think too much of me," I said softly, glancing away.

"Perhaps you think too little of yourself."

I looked up again to see that he was smiling gently. I tried to smile back, though the motion felt forced. "You were closer early in your list. Daisies, simple and sweet. Daisies are the way to win my heart."

He had already won it without them.

Hours more passed before we finally found our way to the Oaken Oar, where I had taken rooms. We spent hours sitting on the ancient stone bridge that crossed the Omethi River, speaking of songs. Of small nothings. Our hands so close they nearly touched. The air between us charged. Like lightning. We wandered slowly along the road, stopping at the park outside of town. And all the while we talked. We laughed. We sang softly, my voice twining with his before fading into the rustling of trees around us. It was like that night, out in the clearing beneath the stars. I thought, perhaps, he'd remember. But he said nothing… and so neither did I.

When we finally reached the Oaken Oar, he saw me to the doorway. We stood there, staring intently at each other. The night seemed to swell around us, the air, the wind, all of it pressing close as if in anticipation. The tension building between us. I stared into his eyes, and I imagined how his lips would feel against mine. What a kiss was like when it was wanted. I couldn't remember. Perhaps I had never really known.

For a moment, I thought I saw the same desire mirrored in his eyes. The nearly imperceptible tilt of his head shifting closer. If only he had kissed me then. How different it might have been. But before we could draw closer, he stepped away, offering nothing but a "Goodnight." He was sweet. Polite. His intentions veiled as ever. And then he was gone, just a shadow fading into night.

Perhaps it didn't even matter. Even if Kvothe had been beside me, I'm sure I would have gone off with Ash all the same.

When I awoke next morning, it was to find that a permanent smile had etched itself across my face while I slept. And my thoughts were full of him. Whirling in my head, as if they had been waiting for me to abandon my slumber.

We had connected the previous night. We had talked for hours. And disappointed though I was by our parting, I sensed a closeness with him still. Something undeniable, that I was sure neither he nor I could ignore. And I knew where he was staying now, had seen the proof of it with my own eyes. I could find him again. And that meant everything.

Still, before I could seek out Kvothe again, I had to do something about my thinning purse. The choices were fairly limited. I could go to the Eolian and seek out another well-off gentleman. But I didn't want to. And my search for a patron seemed as hopeless as kindling a fire beneath a heavy rain. Which left only one option.

An hour later, I brushed my hand against the rough doorframe of the pawn shop. The wood was cracked in places, the light blue paint starting to peel off. Several distinct markings were carved into the wood, almost as an afterthought. I traced my fingertips lightly along their splintered edges and pushed against the heavy wooden door. It creaked, the sound spilling into the shop along with stray sunlight, backlighting a glorious amount of swirling dust. It was framed between crooked, narrow walkways amongst shelves piled ceiling-high with books, and paintings, and trinkets of glass and clay and porcelain. Then the door shuddered closed behind me, and the shop settled into dimness. The air stale without the crisp breath of early autumn suspended outside.

The proprietor was helping another customer, a squat gentleman with thinning hair, so I waited until they concluded their business and the man stepped outside before approaching the counter.

"Help ya, girly?"

The shop owner didn't look at me as he spoke. Instead, he busied himself with slipping open the glass display which made up the counter. I watched as he carefully placed a necklace inside. A delicate woven thing of rose gold and silver leading to an intricate setting which held a teardrop-shaped pink stone. Kunzite, if I didn't miss my guess.

"I rather think you may," I said.

He glanced up at me, closing the case in one smooth motion. His hands nimble despite the wrinkles that had started to creep across the skin of his arms. He nodded his head in my direction before following my gaze down to the display below.

"Here's a fine selection. Good's any jewelry shop on Luster Street, an' just a fraction of the price."

"Is that so?" I smiled.

"This here piece just brought in by that fine gentleman," he added, pointing to the necklace he'd just slid into the case. "Impeccable workmanship. Metalwork this fine… it's surely a product of the skilled artisans in Modeg."

"It's lovely," I admitted. "But no, I'm not interested."

"Selling then?" His smile turned knowing. "What'll it be? The ring, perhaps? A fine specimen, indeed."

I glanced down, twisting Mother's ring away out of habit, until the stone was hidden within my hand. "Not that ring." I reached into the hidden pocket in the lining of my dress, my fingers closing around cold metal. I laid it on the glass counter. "This one."

"Hmmm."

He inspected it, carefully scrutinizing the twisted metal that made up the band and the pale green stone at its center.

"It's finely done," he said at last. "But the metal's only burnished iron. And this stone's painted glass. I can give ya a copper penny fer it. Bit of a pittance." He shrugged. "But no fool'd pay more than five, I reckon."

"I think the right fool would be willing to pay a bit more." I smiled. "Four talents should do it. I'd be happy to assist. In the luring, you understand?"

He laughed, his blue eyes wrinkling with amusement. " It's 'not so often a pretty girl strolls in 'ere, schemin'."

"Your door did say I was welcome."

"That it did." He looked me up and down, his face serious now. "Done this before, have ya, girly?"

"I have."

"Got yer story straight, then?"

"You worry about your end, and I'll worry about mine."

"Right you are." He glanced down at the ring again before meeting my eyes. "Now, it's an even split. Like it says. Two each."

I nodded. "I expect he'll be along shortly. I'll set the meeting for first thing tomorrow morning. Mind, if he doesn't come today, remove it from the window. If we come together, it's already been sold, all right? I shall act appropriately distressed, of course."

He looked amused. "Yer farce has many levels, girly."

"It's happened before," I said evenly, shrugging. "Only once, but I don't plan to make a habit of taking coin that's given in good faith."

And with that I turned and strode out of the shop, until I found myself blinking in the sunlight. It was deceptively bright.

I was a mess. Not a true mess, but the sort of mess that appealed to someone of the sterner sex. My eyes were rimmed with red, but only just. My cheeks tearstained. My hair was perfectly lovely, framing my distraught face in all the right ways. I was hovering at the window, my arms holding me together. The reflection in the glass showed me a lovely girl on the verge of tears. Which was exactly the sort of girl I presently wanted to be.

I hovered there for ten minutes before the first gentleman arrived.

"My lady." He drew up beside me. "A fine day to be outside, is it not?"

I turned, blinking tears away. He was a portly man, with a thick mustache and slightly greasy black hair. The buttons of his rich vest strained across his considerable girth, though he looked only ten years my senior. A man who liked his meals and delicacies. He seemed taken aback when he saw my face.

"Whatever is wrong?"

"Oh, sir," I said, my voice breaking. "Oh, I've a terrible dilemma."

He looked profoundly uncomfortable. "Can I… Can I assist you, my lady? I hate to see a lovely girl such as yourself in tears."

I made a show of wiping at my face before brushing my hands along the sides of my simple homespun dress. His eyes followed the motions, lingering in places they didn't belong. "Maybe you can, sir. Maybe you can. You see, I've been horribly taken advantage of."

I blinked rapidly, until more tears welled.

"Whatever happened?"

"You see," I began, "it's about our family farm, sir. We're terribly behind on our taxes. The duke's threatened to take our lands away."

"Ah," he said. "Well, I—"

Oh no, no," I said quickly. "It's nothing like that. I'm not looking for any charity." I smoothed out my dress again. There was a light tinkle of metal from one of my pockets, and I desisted at once. "My parents are working day and night to try and raise the crop, but it isn't enough. So I thought I'd help, you see. I took my grandmother's ring and came to the city to pawn it. It was supposed to be my wedding gift were I to be wed, but the farm's more important, of course."

"Of course," he agreed.

"But I don't know a thing about bargaining myself," I all but wailed. " I'm a respectable girl, sir. I've never been in the city before. And I've messed it all up now."

"Now it's all right," he said uncomfortably.

"It isn't!" My voice rose dramatically, and I let it crack over the words. "You see, I asked a gentleman I met at the market for help. Pawning it. He seemed ever so pleasant. He even bought me a coffee and showed me the gardens. I thought I could trust him! But he just—" I started to cry. "He just pawned it and ran off with the money! There's the ring right there!" I pointed dramatically at the pawn shop window, where the iron ring sat propped up in the display, the glassy stone particularly lustrous in the sunlight hitting the glass. It shone against the dark backdrop of the window.

"I haven't the money to buy it back," I said miserably. "Even though the shop owner's only selling it for four talents. It's a travesty. It's an old family heirloom, finely crafted in Modeg, sir. It's worth at least forty."

"Forty talents?" His eyebrows rose.

"Yes!" I nodded. "Oh, my father will whip me bloody when he finds out I've lost it and haven't got a penny in return."

"I do believe I can help you, my lady," he volunteered. "I would be willing to buy the ring. And return it, of course."

"Oh sir!" My eyes lit up. "Would you do that for me? I'd return your four talents right away! And I know if you help me, we can sell it elsewhere for at least twenty. I'd be happy to give you some of the coin. For your kind assistance. I don't think the farm will hurt for a jot or two."

He contemplated me for a moment and I offered my most hopeful smile.

"That is an adequate arrangement," he said finally, his voice agreeable. "I would be more than happy to help you, my lady. Now, logistically, I cannot do it right at this moment, I've run a bit late for a meeting, I'm afraid. And I do not carry such a large sum on me. I would need to visit the bank."

"Of course, of course," I said quickly. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of bursting into that foul shop now in my present state. I must return to my inn and freshen up. And you should be on your way, sir. I've kept you horribly long already when you've been so kind. Would you be willing to meet tomorrow morning so that we can go together? Not too early, of course. Would ten be all right?"

"That will be sufficient. I shall meet you here. At ten tomorrow."

"Until tomorrow then," I said brightly. "Oh, thank you, sir, it means just all the world!" I offered him my best curtsy, smiled, and hurried off until the pawn shop was out of sight.

When I returned at sixth bell, the ring was no longer in the window.

"Has he bought it?" I asked, approaching the proprietor in the dim light. "The greasy man with the horrible orange vest?"

He laughed. "Right as rain, girly. Showed up round second bell an' asked for the ring in the window. Seemed mighty pleased wit' himself. I reckon he won't be meetin' ya tomorrow." He drew out two silver talents and laid them on the counter. "Run along now, 'fore he works up his mind to come back."

"Thank you." I scooped up the coins and smiled. "Pleasure doing business, sir. I hope to see you again in the future."

"Distant future. Dun get yourself in trouble now."

I nodded and hurried out of the shop, darting furtive glances up and down the street. It would have been terribly unlikely for the man to appraise the ring quite so fast, but I didn't breathe easy until there were several streets between me and the pawn shop. When the distance felt sufficient, I settled on a bench in one of Imre's public parks and reached into my pocket, withdrawing its contents. In my palm lay five other such rings, all crafted for me on request by a particularly skilled and honest blacksmith in Tarbean. If I sold two more of them, I would have coin enough to stay in Imre for several span without spending a night with anyone. Tehlu, that was freeing.

I closed my hand into a fist around the rings and smiled. Tomorrow, I would find another pawn shop. There was still time enough tonight to stop by the Eolian and see if I couldn't just run into Kvothe.

Over the next two days, I relocated the other rings to the pockets of two exceptionally greedy gentlemen who were more than happy to take advantage of a sobbing girl in need. Both exchanges had gone off smoothly, leaving me with ample coin to enjoy Imre. The only thing dampening my mood was Kvothe. That is, his lack thereof.

I had not been able to find him at the Eolian on either of my three trips, nor at Anker's when I came looking. As if the sprawling complex of The University had swallowed him whole. It was no matter, though. For once, I had the luxury of time stretching out ahead of me, untarnished by the looming promise of an unpleasant evening. All the time in the world.

On the third day, I thought looking for a patron might prove a more prosperous venture than looking for Kvothe. I wasn't sure why, as I'd had no luck with either, but I picked myself up, dressed my face, and headed for the Taps.

It was a dim tavern, full of cracked and peeling tables, and old men half-gone with drink. No Eolian, to be sure. But there was a small stage, which could be graced by anyone. An old man with a cloud of white hair sat there playing a half-harp when I arrived, so I ordered an ale and settled down at a small corner table. It wasn't my drink of choice, but it wasn't the sort of place where one simply ordered wine. Especially the strawberry kind.

I let the hours carry me along, lending my voice to every song that swept into the crowd. My words clear and bright above the rumble of fifty drunken men. I spoke with two separate men and one woman who expressed interest in supporting a singer. I sang for them. Towards evening, bolstered by the courage only alcohol can lend, I climbed onto the stage myself and belted out Pennywhistle for the entire tavern to hear. They clapped appreciatively. The old man with the half-harp joined me midway with an accompaniment. The woman requested a meeting at noon next day. She was the only daughter of a silk merchant, and thought she'd rather like having me along when they next left for Ralien, both for my music and my company. I wasn't sure that a trip to Ralien was what I wanted, but it was the closest I'd come to finding a patron in span. Even if I didn't come along for the journey, meeting with Klare and her merchant father could well improve my prospects. When I left the Taps, I could hardly contain my grin.

I was three streets from the Oaken Oar when I felt the cold, prickling feeling stealing down the back of my neck. The one that whispers of warning.

I was being watched.

I quickened my step, darting nervous glances down the dimly lit streets when I could afford them. There were still people milling about. Students out on the town. Men standing in corners with cheap whores who charged a ha'penny a throw. Songs spilled out from open doors and windows to clash in the late summer air, which smelled of beer and bread and garbage. It took me several moments to spot him. But once I saw the thin profile, there was no mistaking it.

It was Stephan. The second man to whom I had sold the ring two days past. He had stopped by the shop to buy it a mere hour past our initial meeting. Barely long enough for the tears I'd put on for him to dry. I had collected three full talents from that exchange. And now he was here, halfway across town. Stalking me. My feet moved faster, the sudden adrenaline burning away the tipsy lightness the ale had left behind.

The Oaken Oar was just ahead. Safety. I could hide inside. But what good would that do?

I slipped past the door without pause, not sparing it so much as a glance. Down to the end of the street. Left. Left again. All the while, he kept pace with me. Half a street away, but if I strained my ears, I could hear the distinctive clomp of his heavy leather boots. The only reason he hadn't grabbed me yet was because he'd chosen not to.

There was a small backalley on my left. I cut into it and ran, my breath heaving. Past piles of trash and garden exits, until I reached the fenced door halfway through. I darted inside, forcing it closed behind me. This small yard belonged to a bakery. I ran, skirting round the building. Pushing expertly through the bushes that lined its sides and facade. I didn't slow down as I darted across the road, narrowly avoiding two men who stood there with mugs of ale in hand. Another yard stretched ahead, this one belonging to a tavern with doors thrown wide open. I slipped inside, making my way quickly through the taproom. Past the tables and bar and the calls of a hundred drunken men, and out through the door that led to the fenced in yard. Which, from past ventures, I knew exited to another alley. The door was usually unlocked, and tonight was no exception. I slipped into the quiet alley and turned left again, finding my way back to the main road. And then I was out on the cobblestoned street once more, people milling around me.

I walked quickly, trying to reign in my gasping breaths. Forcing my feet to an even pace when they yearned to run. I would not draw undue attention. Not when my dress was already light enough to catch the glow of every light.

Two more streets, and I found myself at the Oaken Oar's door once again. The only sounds at my back were distant revelry and soft laughter. He was gone. A quick glance confirmed it. I breathed a sigh of relief and stepped into its warm interior. There was a fire cracking pleasantly in the grate, below the two intercrossed oars that hung above the mantel. Sympathy lamps and candlesticks stood on every shelf and table, the latter flickering invitingly. The lights danced across the stained glass windows that lined the western wall.

I was halfway to the stairs when the inkeep called out to me.

"Ah, Dinnah. I have a message for you."

I turned, smoothing my hair as I approached the counter. "What is it?"

Frasel shrugged and lifted a folded piece of parchment.

Kvothe. It had to be. My heart rose. I hadn't found him, but he had come to call. He'd searched me out at last.

I took the thick slip of parchment with a nod of thanks, my fingers working at the seal. It was stuck so firmly to the vellum, it took me a near minute to pry it off. Or perhaps it was simply the excited tremble of my fingers, though they shook for naught. The note did not contain heartfelt greetings.

Little bitch. I will kill you and throw your body to the city guards. And they will thank me for it.

I felt the blood drain from my face. My heart was suddenly pounding against my ribcage, so violently I feared it would burst. I choked on a steadying breath, crumpling the parchment in a fist to keep my hand from shaking.

"Who left this?" I was shocked at how steady my voice sounded.

Frasel shrugged again, his face scrunching up in irritation. "Older gentleman. Dark haired. Fine silks."

"Was he thin with a goatee?" I managed.

"Might have had, at that."

"When did he leave this?"

"Don't know," he said gruffly. "I've got an inn to run here. I can't keep track of every—"

I thrust a hand into my pocket, my fingers closing around the cool metal of a coin. I slammed it on the counter. "When?"

"Round eighth bell, I reckon. Is that all now?"

I nodded mutely, letting go of the coin. Frasel slid it across the counter and into his palm. It was a full silver penny. I didn't care. Eighth bell. Just over two hours ago. Stephan had already been here. I couldn't fathom how he'd found me.

I cast a glance around the room again, which felt far colder now, and hurried for the stairs without another word. The weight of my door behind me felt reassuring. But what good would it do? Behind the heavy curtains that framed the glass, I could see his thin form standing in the shadows across the road. His features impossible to make out across the dark and distance, but I imagined his burning eyes trained on me through the window glass.

Was this a game to him? Was there murder in his heart? It shocked me that he would risk his freedom for a mere six talents. A fortune to me, but, surely, nothing to him. But then again, it was hardly a risk, was it? I was no one, after all. I had no name. No family. He must have realized it. If he killed me, there would be no one to speak on my behalf. And he, with all his money and stature… he would never hang for it. Not for killing a thieving whore. I had been with rich men. Had seen the difference money made. I wasn't fool enough to think it could be different.

I allowed myself a moment then, for the tears to gather in my eyes. For them to slide down my cheeks and leave dark stains upon the carpeted floor. It was so hard. Everything. And Tehlu, I was so tired of it all. Just when I thought I'd found a foothold… Just when I'd found Kvothe.

But there was no time for tears. There was only another man who meant to do me harm, and no question of the road that lay before me. No time for second chances or goodbyes.

It took only minutes to collect everything. I had packed my things in the dark so many times, I could do it by touch alone. And when it was done, there was another back staircase waiting for me. Another door that led to another alley that was mercifully empty and led to somewhere far away and nowhere all at once. My life was a series of broken doors and back alleys by then. A journey that stretched on and on with no destination ever in road paved with empty promises and unspoken goodbyes.

And that was the only road for someone like me. The only proper road… for a whore.

I was gone from Imre long before the sun rose to light up its cobblestone streets. I watched it settle into the sky from the back of yet another wagon, bound north, imagining how the light would stretch across the empty streets and plazas. How it would glisten across the surface of the Omethi. How the fountains would sparkle beneath it. The Oar's stained glass windows, too. It would reach through the glass, steal into the empty rooms I'd left behind.

Empty rooms where Kvothe would never find me.

Empty rooms were all I had to give.