I hopped the rail myself and followed him to the edge of the roof. We were only about twenty feet up, but the gardens and fountains spreading out on all sides made for a spectacular view. Elodin stood perilously near the edge, his master's robe flapping around him like a dark flag. He looked rather impressive, actually, if you were willing to ignore the fact that he was still only wearing one sock.

  I went to stand beside him on the edge of the roof. I knew what my third question had to be. "what would I have to do," I asked, "to study naming under you?"

  He met my eye calmly, appraising me. "Jump," he said. "Jump off this roof."

  That's when I realized that all of this had been a test. Elodin had been taking my measure ever since we met. He had a grudging respect for my tenacity, and he had been surprised that I noticed something odd about the air in his room. He was on the verge of accepting me as a student.

  But he needed more, proof of my dedication. A demonstration. A leap of faith.

  And as I stood there, a piece of story came to mind. So Taborlin fell, but he did not despair. For he knew the name of the wind, and so the wind obeyed him. It cradled and caressed him. It bore him to the ground as gently as a puff of thistledown. It set him on his feet softly as a mother's kiss.

  Elodin knew the name of the wind.

  Still looking him in the eye, I stepped off the edge of the roof.

  Elodin's expression was marvelous. I have never seen a man so astonished. I spun slightly as I fell, so he stayed in my line of vision. I saw him raise one hand slightly, as if making a belated attempt to grab hold of me.

  I felt weightless, like I was floating.

  Then I struck the ground.

— "The name of the Wind" by Patrick Rothfuss, p.314