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Following a report from Detozi to Reyall about the status of messenger birds in Trehaug that also mentions the Tarman, “Second Thoughts” begins with Thymara waking after her assignation with Rapskal and chastising herself for the indiscretion before surveying her surroundings and gathering supplies. Both she and Rapskal clothe themselves in Elderling robes they find nearby, and they head back out into the city to scout more of Kelsingra. They prepare things for the group on the other side of the river, as well, and Rapskal comments easily about Heeby in ways that leave Thymara stinging at her lack of connection to Sintara. After they find some food, they confer about their assignation, Rapskal affirming affection for the questioning Thymara.

Aboard the Tarman, Reyn and Malta confer about their situation as the liveship is readied for the return to Kelsingra. The condition of their son receives attention, as well, and the pair decide on a name for him: Ephron “Phron” Bendir Khuprus. Malta’s thoughts turn to her absent younger brother, Selden.

Selden wakes in poor condition in captivity, surveyed by his captors and pleading for hot food and drink and a blanket. He confers with a ship’s boy and learns he is aboard the Windgirl, bound for the capital of Chalced, there to be delivered to his enslaver. Selden recalls, in broad terms, his progress into captivity, and he is denied his requests. The ship’s boy leaves him to ruminate bitterly.

Leftrin frets at the delays in getting back underway to Kelsingra. Although Khuprus financial backing is helping him resupply, he is also paying premiums for the speed at which he is acquiring materials, and he is drawing ire from customers whose purchases are being subordinated to his. Crew and family difficulties assemble, legal entanglements threaten, and Leftrin issues orders to accelerate departure. A Council delegation makes to confront Leftrin, and, after some dickering, the Tarman shoves off, evading pursuit at the risk of revealing the clandestine modifications made. As they depart, Malta, Reyn, and Tillamon confer.

In Kelsingra, Thymara and Rapskal rejoin their companions, who watch as they return, Tats jealous and the dragons conferring. Questions are posed and reports made, and Alise chafes at the despoiling done, citing the mercantilism of Bingtown. Rapskal gives answer, suddenly eloquent on the topic, and Tats recognizes that Rapskal has positioned himself as a leader in their company, and it eats at him. His dragon eases him, and Mercor takes overall command of the situation, bidding all focus on helping the remaining grounded dragons to fly.

There is a lot going on in the present chapter–sensibly, since the end of the book approaches and things must be made ready for the subsequent volume. It’s something I recall noting before (although whether it is in this webspace or not, I do not recall), a tendency to rush towards the end, and I tend not to like it as a reader. Somehow, it seems to me to be…off. But, as I also recall I’ve said before, it’s not like I can do any better. Too, I’m sure that it works quite well for some people. That much said, I think I’m allowed to express personal preferences (and it can’t be too far outside them; I am still reading the book, more than a decade later).

Of some small interest is the way in which Selden’s present and his brother Wintrow’s past align. Both have been subjected to enslavement on the Chalcedean model (Selden at present, Wintrow here), and it seems that both have lost parts themselves (Selden here, Wintrow here). Markings and maimings differ, of course, but the fact of the parallel is somewhat striking. Wintrow’s ordeals emerge from the actions of Kyle Haven and his crew, as has been noted, but Selden’s do not seem to have quite such a source, at least not that springs to mind. Perhaps it can be read as a longer-ranging unintended consequence of Kyle’s perfidies.

Also of interest is how Leftrin acts in the chapter. I have opined at great length about the Traders’ society echoing the early United States; reading the text with that in mind, Leftrin’s actions call up, for me, memories of having read Louis L’Amour’s Sackett novels in my teenage years. (I grew up in central Texas; Westerns are a thing.) They seem entirely consonant with the kind of ethos that often gets espoused, in those books as elsewhere, and not only where I grew up; the law is useful to an extent, but sometimes right requires moving outside it–and even more so does need.

I wonder, as I write this, how far that parallel might be taken. I know there are resonances between typical Westerns and the kind of materials from which much mainstream US fantasy literature borrows, of course, and there is certainly more to be done to bear out that kind of connection. The extent to which fantasy literature borrows from Westerns, though, is something I’ve only done a small amount to investigate. (I’m also not the only one, as might well be imagined.) Efforts of which I’m aware have focused otherwise than on the Realm of the Elderlings novels, but if it is the case that the Traders are echoes of US settlers / colonists, then it follows that the milieu in which they operate can be read with an eye towards such a refiguring no less than a mainstream fantasy novel working an amorphously “medieval” milieu can be read with reference to earlier renditions of medievalism (e.g., reading A Song of Ice and Fire to see how it mis/uses tropes from, say, Lord of the Rings). So perhaps there’s another line of inquiry that someone with more time and energy to devote to the life of the mind can follow.

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Read the previous entry in the series here.
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Following a clandestine message from Kim to Trader Finbok, Hest’s father, “Illumination” begins with Carson rousing with some annoyance as Tats calls on him and Sedric in the night. Tats reports the absence of Thymara and Rapskal, noting his suspicion that they and their dragons are on the other side of the river, in Kelsingra. Carson reports observations that support that suspicion, and Tats confides his jealousy of Rapskal in the older man, encountering a bit of gentle teasing from Carson and receiving a bit of solid avuncular advice. The conversation is interrupted by the clear awakening of Kelsingra, shining light into the darkness and rumbling into the night.

Alise is awakened by the commotion. She rushes out to see what has transpired and guesses that Rapskal is at the heart of it. Her scholar’s mind asserts itself, and she begins trying to fix features in memory.

Aboard the Tarman, Leftrin confers with his crew about how to address the issues with which Reyn, Malta, and their child present him. The Chalcedean entanglements attendant upon assisting the Khuprus family receive attention, and Reyn relates what he knows and guesses about the genesis of Elderlings. Reyn pleads to depart, and Leftrin agrees in principle but notes the exigencies faced by the group in Kelsingra. Reyn offers the Khuprus coffers to outfit the Tarman and resupply the expedition. Leftrin agrees to take the Khupruses to Kelsingra pending the resupply, and Reyn suggests employing Althea and Brashen to assist. The idea is commended by Tillamon, whose presence had been unmarked. She rails at the treatment she suffers for being marked by the Rain Wilds as she is, and she purposes to emigrate to Kelsingra, herself. Leftrin gives orders and retires.

Alise wakes in the morning and pines for Leftrin as she attends to beginning the business of the day. After eating breakfast, she heads out and surveys her surroundings, musing on the course of action she will take. Her reverie is broken by the overflight of a dragon–Sintara, who delights in Alise’s appreciation.

A few things attract my attention in the present chapter. One of them is the parallel for race relations that emerges in Tillamon’s monologue aboard the Tarman. The discrimination–not legal, but not less present for not being formalized–she describes seems to me to be somewhat reminiscent of how earlier populations in the United States have been and still are treated. Indigenous peoples and people of Spanish colonial descent (a phrase I acknowledge is somewhat awkward but which has the benefit of being descriptive) predate Anglophone settlers and their descendants in the United States by millennia and centuries, something openly acknowledged, and they still suffer discrimination (that unfortunately often takes the form of physical violence tacitly condoned if not outright sanctioned by state actors) from the more junior populations. And that parallel is in addition to others already pointed out, which, while frustrating some one-to-one correspondences still highlights the ubiquity of the execrable phenomenon.

A couple of others have to do with names. I’ve noted Hobb’s use of emblematic names before, principally among the social elite of the Six Duchies (representative examples here and here), but also among the Traders (representative examples here and here). It strikes me, then, that Hobb seems to favor starting women protagonists’ names with A (Althea, Amber, and Alise come to mind, though only two are noted in the present chapter); what emblematic function is served here? It also strikes me as somewhat interesting that Leftrin seems to put so much stock as he does in Hennessey, whose name suggests a liquor associated with ostentatious consumption in popular culture contemporary to the publication of City of Dragons. Sailors are stereotypically associated with heavy drink, of course, and various forms of brandy not occasionally. Still, it seems a pointed choice of name, the kind of thing that scans to my eye as a quiet joke. (Oh, to have the time to sit and explicate such things again, as I used to do!)

I look forward to a time in which I have the time to sit and focus on such things more than I do or did. It is perhaps one with my failure to be a “real” academic that I did not do enough to look at and examine such little bits of text and other media, finding the nuggets of joy in them; it is a regret I yet carry, one of many such–not that I did, but that I did not do enough. Things might have been different, else.

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Read the previous entry in the series here.
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A boat-borne message from Reyall to Detozi and Erek discussing the state of messenger birds among the Traders precedes “Flight,” which opens with Sintara still exulting in having flown and killed from the wing. She takes to the skies again, though she feels a pang of panic, from which she has to work to untangle herself. She soon begins to be aware of the strain on her body of flight and makes to land in Kelsingra, but errant winds push her astray, and she lands in the river to be caught by the currents. She feels Thymara cry out, disdaining it and flattered by it at once, and she struggles to shore in the ancient city, if with some injury.

In Cassarick, Malta carries her child through the storm, reeling from her exertions, and she strives to head downward towards the Tarman. With difficulty, she reaches the foundations of the city, and she achieves the liveship at last. Welcomed by the ship, Malta and her child are taken in by the crew.

Thymara speeds through the streets of Kelsingra, answering to Sintara’s distress and feeling the pull of the memories in the worked stones around her. Reaching the dragon, Thymara is cheered by the report of Sintara’s success, even as she is stricken by her physical condition, and the two make for a shelter that will admit the dragon. Ancestral memories guide the pair along, and Sintara’s presence among the buildings wakens the lingering magic within them in light and warmth, in which Sintara immerses herself with pleasure and Thymara with awe. After a time, Thymara is surprised to be joined by Heeby and Rapskal, and Rapskal notes the changes and strengthening that have come upon both dragon and keeper. He also resumes his pursuit of Thymara, to her annoyance, and she explores more of the city. Rapskal joins her, and, amid their explorations, they fall into an assignation.

Reyn, having been advised of Malta’s presence on the liveship, reaches and boards the Tarman, where Malta relates events to him and notes that their child lives, though he is in dire straits. As Reyn and Malta return to their child, she notes that the liveship is keeping him alive. Leftrin joins them then and demands a report, which begins to be offered by his crew, and Reyn listens greedily to his wife’s words.

The fact that Sintara experiences panic upon crossing a river, even while a-wing, marks an interesting insight into dragon psychology; evidently, Hobb’s dragons can experience PTSD. That a trauma could befall such a creature perhaps strains credulity, except that it seems to have been occasioned by a flood when Sintara and the other dragons could not save themselves as they “ought” to have been able to do. Having experienced flash flooding, albeit not of acidic waters (even if they were somewhat septic, drainage systems being what they are), I well understand the power of such phenomena, and having had my own bit of fun at a place the crossing of which still tightens my chest just a little, I’m strangely sympathetic to Sintara. My affective reading catches me out again.

Too, I find myself sympathizing, affectively, with Malta and Reyn, as well. Again, it’s an issue of experience. My daughter is no Elderling, though I think her marvelous and special, indeed. But she was born before she “ought” to have been, and so she spent some time being assisted in her breathing by outside devices. She’s fine, now, and more than fine (about which I will write soon, I think), but I have felt helpless to give my girl what she needed (as I expect I will again, being who I am), and so I find myself feeling, once again, for fictional characters, despite hearing echoes of others’ words that I am a damned fool (and I onliy paraphrase slightly) for doing so.

One more issue: “ought.” I’ve used it twice in my discussion, both in the context of normalizing things. It’s probably not an ideal use; in the case of the dragons, it could well be read as ableist (insofar as dragons, wholly fictional, can be said to fall under such rubrics), while in the case of my daughter, things seem to have worked out well enough that would “ought” to have been is, in fact, what happened (be it luck or wyrd or some providential hand or whatever). I don’t have a better word ready to hand, which is my problem, but I’m supposed to be trained in and attentive enough to the use of language that I ought–note the lack of quotes on this one–to have a better handle on the words I use and their impact upon others.

So much said, the “ought” with the dragons, no less than the treatment of Thick early on, speaks to a need for disability-studies reading of the Realm of the Elderlings corpus. As I’ve noted before, none of us can do all of the reading that needs to be done, and it may be the case that there has been some treatment of the body of work in the light of disability studies; I’ve not attended to the Fedwren Project in far too long, so there’s doubtlessly stuff of which I’m unaware waiting for me to uncover. (If you know of any, please let me know.)

Ah, to have the time to explore in such ways again!

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