The Lightning Tree – Patrick Rothfuss (2015)

The Lightning Tree by Patrick Rothfuss, published in 2015, is a novella set in the world of The Kingkiller Chronicle series. Though it diverges from the main storyline and protagonist Kvothe, it offers a deep, engaging glimpse into the day-in-the-life of Bast, Kvothe’s enigmatic and mischievous companion. This story expands the world of Temerant, shedding light on Bast’s unique nature, his dealings with children, and the dualities he embodies.

Plot Summary

In the quiet hours of Felling morning, when the sun kissed the dew-laced grass and the Waystone Inn still wore the hush of sleep, Bast nearly escaped. His bare feet carried him silently across worn wood and stone, but his master’s voice, soft and deep as a drumbeat, summoned him back. Red-haired and unremarkable, the innkeeper handed him a book – Celum Tinture – and a request for eggs and carrots. With a feigned grin and a tuck of the book beneath his arm, Bast slipped out once more into the brightening day, his destination clear.

At the foot of the lightning tree, a sun-bleached trunk scorched black at its crown, two children awaited him. They scrambled on greystone and grass, their laughter thin as birdsong. Bast moved with ceremony – deasil, then widdershins – winding and unwinding the space around the tree like thread on a loom. Then he sat, sharp-eyed and waiting, lord of secrets beneath the open sky.

The children came with lies and needs. Brann, the baker’s son, brought a shallow cut wrapped in bloodied cloth and begged a lie to spare him his mother’s wrath. Bast crafted one with precision – a tale of rats and nightmares, a suggestion of salt tears and guilt. Brann bartered with sweets and oddments from his pockets: string, a bird skull, a green stone, and promises.

Kale followed, rage held tight in his fists and a split lip telling of betrayal. His brother had kissed Gretta. Revenge was needed – not of bulls or mice, but a dog’s worth. Bast’s remedy was slow and cruel: piss in the shoes, let them dry, let shame bloom on sweat-soaked feet. Kale left with a wicked grin and the promise of secrets: a wild beehive and the location of a hidden still.

Then came wandering and raspberries, the idle whittling of reeds into shepherd’s pipes, and a tune shaped from the air itself. Sweet and sly, it led Bast to the Bentons’ hills, where sheep grazed dumbly and a young woman sat in the shade of an elm, her hair gold as ripe grain. The music called her, though she pretended not to hear. She shifted, stretched, revealed just enough skin to lure the gaze and stir the blood. Bast played, danced, stumbled, smiled. The shepherdess remained aloof, but her shift slid upward, her breath quickened. By the time Bast returned to the lightning tree, his skin glowed with the sun’s warmth and mischief.

No children waited, so he dozed beneath the scarred trunk until footsteps stirred him. Kostrel arrived – lean, clever-eyed, his words sharpened by hunger for truth. He offered a secret: the bathing spot of Emberlee, the third prettiest girl in town. In return, he demanded knowledge – three answers, full and earnest, on a subject named. He chose the Fae.

Bast danced around the questions at first, like a fox in a trap. But the bargain held, and so he spoke. The Fae were not one thing, but many: beasts and beings, fair folk and foul. Some were nearly demons, some perhaps angels. Some could not lie. Some never broke promises. Most stayed away from the mortal world, drawn only to wild, true places – stone and water, fire and air. Bast offered two secrets: the Fae could hide their oddness with seeming, and all shared a magic called glammourie or grammarie. One changed appearance; the other changed essence.

Kostrel listened, his clever eyes flashing. He asked about Felurian, about Kvothe’s cloak, about shadows and desire. Bast explained the difference between seeming and being, between a glamoured shirt and a true one, between icing on a cake and the cake itself. The boy’s questions grew more dangerous, and Bast felt the weight of them like stones in his gut. He had once been simple, all hunger and chase. Now he was tangled in contradictions, empathy pulling him off course. He could not kill the boy, clever and alive as he was. So he answered, and when Kostrel tried for one question too many, Bast tricked him and laughed.

Later, a girl in a blue dress came. Viette, the mayor’s daughter, purple ribbons in her hair and a kitten cradled in her arms. She recited the rules and asked her question: was the kitten magical? Bast confirmed it, half-surprised, then spun a tale of how to win her father’s permission through hunger, silence, and a child’s dying act. She listened, nodded, and paid with secrets: the mayor’s key, her mother’s kiss, and a promise of flowers. Touch-me-nots, she called them, not gemlings.

The day warmed. Bast heard a whistle and found Rike waiting at the edge of the trees. Taller now, bitter and broken, the boy carried Bast’s book and a plea. He needed a favor – a final, terrible favor. He wanted his father gone, not just away, but gone forever. Bast listened, the weight of choice pressing down. Rike’s bruises told their own story – his wrists, his back, his hollow gaze. He didn’t want to kill the man, not truly. He wanted escape. Bast agreed, but the price would be heavy.

As Rike searched the stream for a stone with a hole, Bast waited. Brann returned with sweet buns. Viette brought flowers and ribbon. Bast crafted a daisy crown, painted flowers blue with breath and spell, and carried them in a bindle to the hollow where Emberlee bathed. He scattered the blossoms upstream, hid in the leaves, and watched as she undressed – her skin like cream, her dress like a bird’s wing. She looked left and right, unaware of the magic flowing toward her on the water’s slow current.

Bast descended from the tree, body still warm with mischief, and returned to the lightning tree once more. Rike awaited him with the stone. Bast took it, nodded, and began the gears of desire.

A river stone, dry and holed, would begin it. Gone, the boy had said. Gone forever. Bast would see it done. His shirt still smelled of soap and sunlight. The book was safe. The day was not yet over.

Main Characters

• Bast – A charming, cunning, and deeply conflicted being of the Fae who appears as Kvothe’s loyal apprentice. His outward behavior is playful, seductive, and often morally ambiguous. He crafts lies for children, barters secrets, and doles out justice and vengeance under the guise of favors. Yet beneath his mischievous exterior lies a sharp mind and a soul pulled between desire and duty. Bast’s internal conflict, particularly regarding his growing empathy for humans and their complex emotions, forms the emotional core of the story.

• Kostrel – A clever, sharp-tongued boy with an unquenchable curiosity about the Fae. He barters with Bast for knowledge, challenging him with pointed questions and quick wit. Kostrel’s hunger for forbidden truths stirs both affection and unease in Bast, forcing the latter to confront his own nature and boundaries.

• Rike – An older boy scarred by domestic abuse, whose desperate plea to rid himself of his abusive father reveals the darker side of Bast’s power and moral ambiguity. Rike’s vulnerability contrasts with his bravado, and his story introduces the novella’s most harrowing emotional stakes.

• Viette – The precocious and privileged daughter of the mayor, Viette brings a whimsical yet disturbing blend of innocence and manipulation. Her interactions with Bast highlight the performative elements of childhood and how even the young learn to game systems of power.

Theme

• Truth and Lies: The art of lying is central to Bast’s role under the lightning tree. Lies become gifts, weapons, and forms of salvation. Rothfuss probes the fine line between fabrication and storytelling, showing how lies can carry both kindness and cruelty.

• The Nature of Power: Bast dispenses power in the form of stories, secrets, and subtle magics. Whether helping a boy exact revenge or guiding a girl to manipulate her father, Bast illustrates how power lies not in brute strength but in words, cunning, and control of perception.

• Duality and Identity: Bast constantly shifts between his human façade and his Fae essence. His yearning for beauty, pleasure, and simplicity battles with his growing empathy, especially toward vulnerable humans. This theme reflects broader questions of identity and moral compromise.

• Coming of Age and Corruption of Innocence: The children who visit Bast are caught in moral thresholds, facing dilemmas that require them to lie, deceive, or rebel. The novella frames childhood not as a time of purity but as a crucible for future selves, shaped by small, pivotal moments of choice.

• The Supernatural Intertwined with the Mundane: Bast uses Fae magics like glammourie and grammarie not for grand battles, but to make flowers change color or offer subtle tricks. These mystical elements blend seamlessly with rustic, ordinary settings, underscoring the hidden wonder and danger in everyday life.

Writing Style and Tone

Patrick Rothfuss’s prose in The Lightning Tree is lyrical, evocative, and richly atmospheric. He paints Bast’s world with sensual detail, from the scent of bread on a child’s breath to the ghostly white bark of the titular tree. His sentences wind and weave with poetic rhythm, laced with wit and subtle menace. Dialogue is deftly rendered, full of flavor and distinct character voices. Descriptive passages slow down time, allowing moments of wonder, eroticism, or horror to bloom gradually, echoing fairytales in their cadence and restraint.

The tone dances between playful and dark, shifting effortlessly from childish mischief to profound existential unease. There’s a constant undercurrent of unease beneath Bast’s sunny mischief, a lurking knowledge that this is a being not entirely benign. Rothfuss lures readers in with whimsy only to twist it into something disquieting, much like the Fae themselves. Despite its small scope, the novella brims with emotional complexity, sensuality, and moral ambiguity, embodying the liminal space between childhood and adulthood, fantasy and reality.