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