Read the previous entry in the series here.
Read the next entry in the series here.

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Following more exchange among bird-keepers and indications of the clear concerns of some members of Alise’s and Sedric’s circles, “White Flood” opens upon Leftrin trying to kill Jess amid bad weather and the unraveling of the latter’s plans. Floodwater and debris sweep over them, and Leftrin begins to give himself up for dead. The Tarman makes shift to retrieve him, though, and he waits for rescue.

Sintara unceremoniously deposits Thymara with Alise, and the two women orient themselves amid the tumult, taking stock of their situation. The Rain Wild River is swollen in the wake of a flash flood and running a milky acidic white. The dragons, heeding Mercor, struggle for the riverbanks, Thymara urging Sintara along.

Sintara struggles, and Alise and Thymara urge her along more vocally and fully, and they join other keepers to secure their dragons against the continuing flood. The keepers confer about damages and losses, and Thymara begins to blame herself for the loss of Rapskal and his dragon, Heeby. Alise attempts to offer comfort, but more comes from other keepers who speak to the current billeting of Sintara and others. The loss of much material in the flood is noted, however, but a grim resolve to continue settles upon the keepers.

As I reread the chapter, I was put in mind of an experience more than twenty years gone, now. In the summer of 2002, I was commuting from my parents’ home to my undergraduate school, moving back in after a year in the dorms and a year in on-campus apartments. And I had been laying on the couch for a fair bit of the time I was not in class, rereading a different series of novels on the days when I was not working. My doing so attracted some commentary from my parents, to which I replied with some angry crack about things being boring otherwise.

I have said before that I have mellowed out in my old age.

The day after I made the comment, a tropical system decided to seat itself over the Hill Country and dump feet of rain upon us. Two dams upstream of my parents’ house failed, and in the time it took us to look out the back door, out the front door, and turn back to look out back, the creek rose a dozen feet. It didn’t stop there, either, flowing into the house and through it.

We all got out safely, but it was a long time getting things back in order from the flood. Not everybody in town has, even now; some houses were flatly washed away, and their foundations still stand in lots overgrown with weeds.

We had support, though, and even then, it was a hard thing. For people isolated and already living under onus, it can only be worse.

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Additional support is and continues to be welcome!

Read the previous entry in the series here.
Read the next entry in the series here.

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Following more of the ongoing exchange among bird-keepers, “Blue Ink, Black Rain” begins with Alise sitting quietly and contemplating the insights offered by her burgeoning friendship with Bellin, a crewmate aboard the Tarman. Leftrin interrupts her as she writes, and she reports that she is recording conversations with the dragons, describing her progress with them. Leftrin inquires about her scholarly apparatus, which she describes in some self-deprecating terms, and an offhand comment leads her to a new realization about the work. When she tries to write of it, though, she realizes she is out of ink, and she makes to call on Sedric for more.

Sedric stirs to consciousness, disturbed by the intrusion, and cries out. Alise, startled, explains herself, and Sedric panics at her going through his goods. He responds snappishly to her, and she stalks out, equally snappish. After, Sedric considers his situation and the continuing communion he has with the dragon Relpda. The changes the dragon’s blood have wrought on him are noted, and Carson calls on him. The tensions of his interactions with Carson are rehearsed, as are the doubts about his life with Hest that they prompt in him. Carson confers about Davvie with Sedric, the two arriving at an understanding regarding the boy and Carson urging Sedric to out himself.

In a boat together, Thymara and Rapskal proceed together in the dragons’ wake, Thymara rehearsing recent events and their fallout. The pair bring their boat ashore along with the other keepers, setting up camp for the evening, and Rapskal heads off in search of of food. After he leaves, Tats approaches Thymara, and the two confer about their situation. Noting the closeness among some of the other keepers, Thymara grows jealous, and discussion of sex among the keepers ensues. Rapskal returns amid it, making discussion uncomfortable in the detail he provides. Thymara stalks off, encountering Sedric, and the two talk together briefly before Thymara stalks off again. This time, she encounters Alise and Sintara in an argument about herself. The dragon rebukes both Alise and Thymara, and the two work to comfort one another afterward.

Leftrin comes off watch and considers his situation before he meets with Jess. Jess proposes harvesting parts from a dragon he has cultivated and sedated, and he suggests absconding with their prize together. Melee ensues.

Sintara considers Thymara and Alise briefly before becoming aware of an incoming flood. The dragons and their keepers scramble towards safety, but to no avail, and Sintara is taken by the flood. She recovers, but Thymara is swept away, and Sintara recovers her at Alise’s urging, claiming her triumphantly.

I find myself struck by the easy acceptance of same-sex attraction among the hunters that accompany the Tarman and the dragon keepers upstream. It is something at odds with my own experience; growing up in rural central Texas I was, and living in rural central Texas I am surrounded by people who do a lot of hunting and fishing. Many of them profess homophobic sentiments with varying degrees of vehemence; few of them avow acceptance of same-sex attraction or acting thereupon. Admittedly, I am not sufficiently acquainted with many people for them to confide their views in me, so there may be great differences between the performances made publicly and those made privately. And in any event, part of the nature of fantasy literature is that it is escapist; it can easily be aspirational, and the argument might be made that it both inherently is and that it ought to be so. (To be sure, that would have some interesting implications for such works as Donaldson’s. But that’s a discussion for another time and place, as well as another student than me. I have enough to do with this project without taking on others. Yet, oh! how they beckon!)

Indeed, the social commentary Hobb offers, consciously or otherwise, is striking. Perhaps it is because I am looking for such things, anymore. Many will oppose such things, calling for me and others who read with intent to “let a story be a story.” But stories are human products, and the people who make them are enmeshed in their systems of governance and culture. The stories told cannot help but be reactions to and engagements with the same–and with those that follow, as they continue to be told and written and heard and read.

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