I nodded. “It has a harp instead of a heart.”
She looked back down at it. “No wonder it looks so surprised.”
Auri took the fish out of my hands and laid it carefully on the roof. “Now stand up. I have three things for you, as is only fair.”
I came to my feet and she held out something wrapped in a piece of cloth. It was a thick candle that smelled of lavender. “What’s inside of it?” I asked.
“Happy dreams,” she said. “I put them there for you.”
I turned the candle over in my hands, a suspicion forming. “Did you make this yourself?”
She nodded and gave a delighted grin. “I did. I am terribly clever.”
I tucked it carefully into one of the pockets of my cloak. “Thank you, Auri.”
Auri grew serious. “Now close your eyes and bend down so I can give you your second present.”
Puzzled, I closed my eyes and bent at the waist, wondering if she had made me a hat as well.
I felt her hands on either side of my face, then she gave me a tiny, delicate kiss in the middle of my forehead.
Surprised, I opened my eyes. But she was already standing several steps away, her hands clasped nervously behind her back. I couldn’t think of anything to say.
Auri took a step forward. “You are special to me,” she said seriously, her face grave. “I want you to know I will always take care of you.” She reached out tentatively and wiped at my cheeks. “No. None of that tonight. This is your third present. If things are bad, you can come and stay with me in the Underthing. It is nice there, and you will be safe.”
“Thank you, Auri,” I said as soon as I was able. “You are special to me, too.”
“Of course I am,” she said matter-of-factly. “I am as lovely as the moon.”
I collected myself while Auri skipped over to a piece of metal piping that jutted from a chimney and used it to pry the cap off the bottle. Then she brought it back, holding it carefully with both hands.
“Auri,” I asked. “Aren’t your feet cold?”
She looked down at them. “The tar is nice,” she said, wriggling her toes. “It’s still warm from the sun.”
“Would you like a pair of shoes?”
“What would they have in them?” she asked.
“Your feet,” I said. “It’s going to be winter soon.”
She shrugged.
“Your feet will be cold.”
“I don’t come out on top of things in the winter,” she said. “It isn’t very nice.”
Before I could respond, Elodin stepped around a large brick chimney as casually as if he were out for an afternoon stroll.
The three of us stared at each other for a moment, each of us startled in our own way. Elodin and I were surprised, but out of the corner of my eye I saw Auri grow perfectly still, like a deer ready to spring away to safety.
“Master Elodin,” I said in my gentlest, friendliest tones, desperately hoping he wouldn’t do anything that might startle Auri into running. The last time she’d been scared back underground it had taken her a full span to re-emerge. “How nice to meet you.”
“Hello there,” Elodin said, matching my casual tone perfectly, as if there was nothing odd about the three of us meeting on a rooftop in the middle of the night. Though for all I knew, it might not seem odd to him.
“Master Elodin.” Auri dipped one bare foot behind the other and tugged the edges of her ragged dress in a tiny curtsey.
Elodin remained in the moon-cast shadow of the tall brick chimney. He made a curiously formal bow in return. I couldn’t see his face in any detail, but I could imagine his curious eyes examining the barefoot, waifish girl with the nimbus of floating hair. “And what brings the two of you out this fine night?” Elodin asked.
I tensed. Questions were dangerous with Auri.
Luckily, this one didn’t seem to bother her. “Kvothe has brought me lovely things,” she said. “He brought me bee beer and barley bread and a smoked fish with a harp where its heart should be.”
“Ah,” Elodin said, stepping away from the chimney. He patted his robes until he found something in a pocket. He held it out to her. “I’m afraid I’ve only brought you a cinnas fruit.”
Auri took a tiny, dancer’s step backward and made no motion to take it. “Have you brought anything for Kvothe?”
This seemed to catch Elodin off his stride. He stood awkwardly for a moment, arm outstretched. “I’m afraid I haven’t,” he said. “But I don’t imagine Kvothe has brought anything for me, either.”
Auri’s eyes narrowed, and she gave a tiny frown, fierce with disapproval. “Kvothe has brought music,” she said sternly, “which is for everyone.”
Elodin paused again, and I have to admit I enjoyed seeing him discomfited by someone else’s behavior for once. He turned and made a half bow in my direction. “My apologies,” he said.
I made a gracious gesture. “Think nothing of it.”
Elodin turned back to Auri and held out his hand a second time.
She took two small steps forward, hesitated, then took two more. She reached out slowly, paused with her hand on the small fruit, then took several scurrying steps away, bringing both hands close to her chest. “Thank you kindly,” she said, making another small curtsey. “Now, you may join us if you like. And if you behave, you may stay and listen to Kvothe play afterward.” She tilted her head a bit, making it a question.
Elodin hesitated, then nodded.
Auri scampered around to the other side of the roof, then down into the courtyard through the bare limbs of the apple tree.
Elodin watched her go. When he tilted his head there was just enough moonlight that I could see a thoughtful expression on his face. I felt a sudden, sharp anxiety tie knots in my stomach. “Master Elodin?”
He turned to face me. “Hmm?”
I knew from experience it would only take her three or four minutes to fetch whatever she was bringing up from the Underthing. I needed to talk fast.
“I know this looks strange,” I said. “But you have to be careful. She’s very nervous. Don’t try to touch her. Don’t make any sudden movements. It will scare her away.”
Elodin expression was hidden in shadow again. “Will it now?” he said.
“Loud noises too. Even a loud laugh. And you can’t ask her anything resembling a personal question. She’ll just run if you do.” I drew a deep breath, my mind racing. I have a good tongue in my head, and given enough time I’m confident in my ability to persuade just about anyone of anything. But Elodin was simply too unpredictable to manipulate.
“You can’t tell anyone she’s here.” It came out more forcefully than I’d intended, and I immediately regretted my choice of words. I was in no position to be giving orders to one of the masters, even if he was more than half mad. “What I mean,” I said quickly, “is that I would take it as a great personal favor if you didn’t mention her to anyone.”
Elodin gave me a long, speculative look. “And why is that, Re’lar Kvothe?”
I felt myself break out in a sweat at the cool amusement in his tone. “They’ll stick her in Haven,” I said. “You of all people . . .” I trailed off, my throat growing dry.
Elodin stared down at me, his face little more than a shadow, but I could sense him scowling. “Of all people I what, Re’lar Kvothe? Do you presume to know my feelings toward Haven?”
I felt all my elegant, half-planned persuasion fall to tatters around my feet. And I suddenly felt like I was back on the streets of Tarbean, my stomach a hard knot of hunger, my chest full of desperate hopelessness as I clutched at the sleeves of sailors and merchants, begging for pennies, halfpennies, shims. Begging for anything so I could get something to eat.
“Please,” I said to him. “Please, Master Elodin, if they chase her she’ll hide, and I won’t be able to find her. She isn’t quite right in the head, but she’s happy here. And I can take care of her. Not much, but a little. If they catch her that would be even worse. Haven would kill her. Please Master Elodin, I’ll do whatever you like. Just don’t tell anyone.”