A Robin Hobb Rereading Series: Entry 372: Blood of Dragons, Chapter 6

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


Following a markedly acerbic message from Ronica Vestrit to the Cassarick bird-keeper, “Dragon Blood” begins with Ellik presenting the captive Selden to the Duke of Chalced, who comments dimly on Selden’s appearance. The situation of those present is described in detail, and Selden is abused once again before he identifies himself and what had been his intended purpose. Selden also lays out the betrayal that led him to his current situation, and he notes that he might well be ransomed. The Duke refuses, however, citing his seemingly draconic nature as a reason to keep him. Selden notes his heritage and is again abused. The Duke considers his options and the effects that having eaten of Selden had had upon him, and he determines to have Chassim tend to him. The Duke contemplates further, finding himself reasonably pleased.

Nothing quite so nice as this…
John Copely’s The Sick King at the Art Institute of Chicago, used for commentary

Elsewhere, Tintaglia approaches Trehaug, happily anticipating being served by Malta, Reyn, and Selden. Arriving, she summons the three, occasioning panic among the Rain Wilders present. At length, Jani Khuprus addresses the dragon, confirming that Malta and Reyn are gone and resisting Tintaglia’s attempts at ensorcelling her. Others react poorly to the presence of the dragon in their midst, and, after some upset, Tintaglia is sent on towards Kelsingra, the location of which is known to her.

Aboard the Tarman, Leftrin eagerly anticipates arriving at Kelsingra as he and his crew and passengers approach it. Reyn starts at the sight of the outskirts, and the pair of them marvel to see so many dragons aloft as they do. Others aboard join them in the joy of the sight, and Leftrin is put ill at ease by the sudden interest of Spit in the liveship. He does consider, however, the pursuit that yet follows, and he watches with equanimity as the pursuing ship presumes to fire upon Spit. The dragons begin to harass the vessel before falling into a game of their own, and Lefrtin and Hennessey confer about the changes to them.

I find myself taken by Ronica’s message. I know biographical criticism is always problematic. I know, too, that affective reading is at least as problematic. I cannot help but be put in mind of a number of more experienced women I’ve known, however, and I cannot help but think that something of the author’s own annoyance at some delivery person or another bleeds over into the text. (Given the publication date of the novel, 2013, I find myself wondering if something like this was at work for Hobb as it had been for me.) Certainly, it rings of authentic experience to me, the lived real, and that is a helpful grounding in a book that makes much of flying, acid-spitting metamorphic reptiles and those they usefully and decoratively mutate for their own ends.

The cold conniving at work in Chalced also strikes me. Again, given the times involved in publication, I have to wonder if Hobb is responding in some ways to Martin and his swelling popularity, Game of Thrones being on screens and all. Admittedly, Hobb’s characters were prone to plotting ere ever Benioff and Weiss got going on the show (about which more here), with Shrewd, Chade, and Regal doing more than their shares of such in the Farseer novels, and none of it is particularly savory. Still, Shrewd and Chade at least presented themselves as acting in the interests of the realm rather than themselves, with Chade being somewhat belligerent on that score; reprehensible as no small part of what the elder Farseer half-brothers plotted was, it was not about them. And, reprehensible as no small part of what the elder Farseer half-brothers plotted was, it was not cannibalism.

Neither is the case with the Duke of Chalced. I believe I’ve commented on the almost cartoonish villainy in play with him, almost as if he joins Mumm-Ra in pleading directly with ancient spirits of evil. He is clearly The Bad Guy here, and he seems worse, somehow, than the Pale Woman of the Tawny Man novels; she, at least, had some vision to attempt to enact, and one not entirely unsympathetic, although the means used to attempt the ends are foul. The Duke, though, appears only to serve himself, and if a reader can feel pity for a person beset by age and illness, it is far harder to incline towards a slaver who will feast upon the flesh of the still-living.

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About Bob

Bob is just a normal guy.
Things happen and he wonders why
They cannot go another way;
Such thoughts hound him every day.

Mmm. Fractals.
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Bob heard that he can change the world,
And that idea once had twirled
Around his mind in days now gone,
In childhood when such belong.

Bob has a job. He earns his pay
By going in, day after day,
To do the work others assign,
Brings in the proverbial dime.

Bob may well not be at ease
Not doing what he might well please,
But what would please won’t pay the bills,
So he does what another wills.

Bob cannot see another way,
Cannot find the means to say
That he would want some other life;
It’s been cut out, but by what knife?

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Ready to Go

Sitting in the corner
Thinking up a song
The bard awaits a summons
Hopes it won’t be long
Before the tune is called for
And played to the delight
Of souls in joy assembled
Long into the night

Usually this kind of thing, right?
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The scribe is at his desk
He waits with pen in hand
Eager now to answer
The written word’s demand
To leave behind a record
That will for long remain
And echo in the eye
Longer than the bard’s refrain

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A Robin Hobb Rereading Series: Entry 371: Blood of Dragons, Chapter 5

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


Following a charged clandestine message to Trader Finbok, “Taking the Leap” opens with Sedric and Carson urging their dragons along towards an old road. The dragons complain along the way, with Spit (the dragon Carson tends) taunting Relpda at some length. Carson is able to persuade Spit down, Sedric following more slowly, and to some merriment. Relpda, however, is incensed and startles all present by leaping into the air and flying unaided. Her performance inspires the other dragons, led by Spit, and the assembled keepers exult in seeing their dragons aloft as they ought always to have been. Sedric is initially afraid for Relpda as Spit pursues her, but Carson informs him that Spit but makes a mating attempt.

The copper queen, herself
Relpda by Catsbood on DeviantArt, used for commentary

Elsewhere, Hest is surprised to find himself enjoying Cassarick. He is also able to ferret out a fair amount of gossip regarding the Tarman and Leftrin’s sudden departure. Satisfied that Redding has had enough time to accomplish his errands, Hest makes to return to his lodgings, only to find his assailant awaiting him. The assailant rebukes Hest for his deviation from orders and coldly informs him that Redding is dead, and he puts Hest to yet more grisly tasks as he lays out his own personal stakes in his errands.

I note with some interest the present chapter’s motion toward the urban / rural divide. Admittedly, in such societies as the Realm of the Elderlings novels present, there is less sharp a distinction between the two; the cities that are shown tend to be port cities of one sort or another and closely linked therefore to their agricultural and similar surroundings, rather than towering metropoles that can seemingly ignore the work of farmers and others in the surrounding lands. Jamaillia is perhaps the closest to a modern metropole yet shown, and even its overbuilt presence differs substantially from contemporary conceptions of what the city is or ought to be. Even so, in the early United States to which I see Bingtown and the Rain Wilds as most akin, there was a distinction between life in cities and that away from them, and not only in terms of access to information and materials (although certainly in them), and that distinction seems to be in place in the present chapter–if with something of a twist.

Like many, Hobb presents the rural as superior to the urban in the present chapter; Sedric’s city life is a hindrance to his understanding, here, while Carson’s rural expertise enables him to be more effective and insightful. So much is a commonplace. The twist comes in the variation on moralizing that often accompanies the presentation of the urban / rural divide and the privileging of the latter. In most cases, the rural is presented as morally purer than the urban, adhering more closely to “traditional” norms of civility and continence. (Yes, in real-life cases, this does tend to align with conservative ideologies in terms of “what ought to be,” and it is an ideal which many rural communities fail to attain, even if they do not openly discuss it outside themselves. It also tends to be racially coded, with non-dominant populations being ascribed “immoral” practices. That so much presents problems is hopefully obvious.) Yet here, it seems that the rural life Carson represents is more tolerant and accepting, if not outright celebratory, of relationships than is the urban life Sedric represents. In Bingtown, Sedric must conceal who he is; in the Rain Wilds, he is under no such obligation.

Does this mean Kelsingra is an incipient Utopia? Perhaps; I do not have More’s work in front of me to make the comparison. But it is a prospect, and I would love to see if someone else has done the reading to find out.

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A Familiar Tyranny, One of (Too) Many

Even after all the years of doing it
After all of them I’ve seen before
Again and again and again
I still quail to see an empty page before me
Waiting for me to fill it with the work of my pen
Leave traces of myself behind in ropy trails
I hope to see outlast me

I know the hesitation well.
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I lift the pen
Put my fingers to the keys
Trying to open the inner taps
And they sometimes flow freely
But just as often
I have to work the pump for a while
Before anything will flow
And even then
It’s often silty
Not the best tasting drink

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Oh, I Would Like to Write a Book

Oh, I would like to write a book
At which someone would take a look
And read the words I put inside;
Though they’d be covered, I’d not hide
The way I feel about this place,
The things that I must daily face
To find my way and make my name.
Oh, I’d not mind if I found fame;
I’d be okay to be liked well
The more so did it help to sell
Another book that I might write
And release for the delight
Of those who liked the first I wrote.
But if I will on that tide float,
I first must flood with words the page;
The script must come before the stage.

Yes, one of these.
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A Robin Hobb Rereading Series: Entry 370: Blood of Dragons, Chapter 4

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


After a message heralding rewards for information about Alise or Sedric and comments from Reyall to Detozi about new security measures on bird-borne messages, “Opening Negotiations” begins with Hest and his current companion, Redding, together in Cassarick, Hest musing aspersively on the available lodgings. Hest reflects on the businesses that bring him to the remote Rain Wild city and upon his own role in those dealings. He chafes at his traveling companion and rehearses the news that he has been able to glean thus far before dismissing Redding and settling in to wait for an expected meeting. As Redding pries, Hest distracts him with selected truths about his intentions and business entanglements, and he purposes to send him onward in his own place.

Something of the setting, maybe?
Photo by Joshua Woroniecki on Pexels.com

Aboard the Tarman, Leftrin sights a dragon, informing him that he approaches Kelsingra. That the dragons have begun to fly pleases him, and as Reyn agitates for haste, Leftrin calms him. He is put ill at ease by signs of pursuit, however, and considers both the implications of that pursuit and the signs of dragons’ presence.

Also aboard the Tarman, Reyn and Malta confer about their son, whose progress and development are described. Reyn urges Malta to care for herself, and they talk together about the area of Kelsingra. Tillamon, emerging quietly, echoes Reyn’s suggestions to her sister-in-law and offers to watch Phron while his parents refresh themselves. The couple note Tillamon’s happiness, and she notes that it comes from her budding relationship with Hennesey, and Malta calms Reyn’s reaction to the same.

As I reread the present chapter this time around, it occurs to me that the novel is still in its expositional phase, presenting materials to help orient readers who join the Elderlings corpus at this point rather than at any previous point in it. While it is the case that such entry does not make for an ideal reading experience, it is also the case that such entries continue to happen. In my own professional life, I am asked to do write-ups of books in series when I’ve not read the previous volumes (and I remain available to do such work for you; see below). It’s sometimes a challenge to do so, of course; series are written with an eye toward readers being broadly familiar with what has happened in earlier-set volumes. But even aside from professional concerns such as mine, with clients asking for book 2 of 3 or 3 of 5, sometimes readers stumble into series later in them, finding a later volume in a second-hand bookstore and having to back-fill. It’s easier now, perhaps, than in my youth, but it still happens, and it’s still to a novel’s credit that it works to ease such readers into their narratives.

I have to note, too, the classist commentary in the final section of the chapter. Being an older brother, I can sympathize to some degree with Reyn’s protectiveness. As I write this, my brother is 35 (I’m 40), and I still feel the call to step in on his behalf. The thing is, I don’t answer it anymore; he’s a grown man, and I’ve long known it. Reyn’s not in a position not to know his sister’s an adult and capable–and he’s got more than enough to worry about with Phron. Too, Malta has things right; the focus of Tillamon’s affection is gainfully employed in a trade not likely to see decline in his lifetime, and there are far worse things than to take up with someone who works a physical job for a living.

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It’s Not about Jason

The fortunate day has come again
When many take thought for such luck as they have
And worry more than most days at how much of it they lack

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow…
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What must it be like to have such luxury
To be able to wonder only on certain days
Whether fortune will find in favor
And not to expect each day
That the turning wheel will roll over
Knowing that for it to move forward it must
Throw some down
Seeing that there is always a set that
Sticks to the wheel-well
Building up a curtain that will
In time
Make all advancement cease?

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A Robin Hobb Rereading Series: Entry 369: Blood of Dragons, Chapter 3

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


Following a missive with a bitter complaint from Kim in Cassarick regarding investigations from the Keepers of the Birds, “Hunters and Prey” begins with Sintara exiting the river outside Kelsingra to find Mercor awaiting her. The two dragons converse briefly before interrupted by another dragon, Baliper, and Alise as she attends to him, though she is emphatically not his keeper. Sintara considers the effects proximity to humans has had upon her with some disgust, and upset breaks out among the dragons briefly. Mercor quells it and asserts that he will mate Sintara in time, and Sintara is affected by his advances, though she does not accede to them, but flies away.

I admit to being partial to blue and gold…
Mimi-Evelyn’s Sintara and Mercor on DeviantArt, used for commentary.

Elsewhere, Tats calls on Thymara where she, Sylve, and Jerd lodge. The lodgings are described, as are the guests who have called on the young women, and more of Rapskal’s advances towards Thymara are noted. Tats and Thymara discuss hunting assignments that Carson has made, and they head out to hunt, other keepers’ duties and the difficulties of the same noted. They talk briefly of their dragons and the mechanics of the hunt, and, after a time, they talk about their friendship and its changes. The talk does not go well, but it is interrupted by game crashing through the trees, pursued by wolves. Tats moves to investigate, Thymara trailing, and they watch as the wolves make use of terrain to complete their kills. Sintara and Fente then descend upon the wolves themselves. In the wake of the carnage, though, Tats has a revelation of a way to help the dragons yet earthbound achieve flight, and they return.

Still further away, Selden is examined and found wanting, given his described status. His prospective seller continues to praise his dragon-like form, however, even as Selden speaks in his own defense and turns such power as he possesses on his prospective buyer, Chancellor Ellik, and he soon has a new enslaver.

The appearance of wolves in the area of Kelsingra is, to my eye, an obvious nod towards the Farseer and Tawny Man novels, in which one wolf, in particular, looms large, indeed. That the wolves make use of a break in an Elderling road, well, it reminded me powerfully of this, and I continue to appreciate the work done to keep things together as parts of a consistent whole.

As I reread the chapter, too, I once again find myself reading with affect and sympathizing with the difficulty in feeling and expressing the same on the parts of Thymara and Tats. Growing up where and when I did, and among whom I did, I did not experience the degree of repression Thymara attests; although I made an ass of myself on many occasions and to a substantial collective audience, I was largely welcome from birth, and the expectation that I would wed and have at least one child was simply part of things. (I am glad to have wedded and to have my daughter, very much so on both counts.) For Thymara, though, the expectation, as has been noted in the novels (such as here), was that she would die, and even did she not, she would not wed or bear children–and that any such children would, themselves, die, given the Rain Wilds’ effect on people. Even aside from what Thymara has witnessed and been told, she has had ample reason to avoid intimacy, and given the entanglements cropping up around her assignation with Rapskal under the mutual influence of Elderling magic, I can understand her reluctance to engage any further.

As far as Selden goes…slavery of any sort is a horror, and the kind of chattel slavery for which Chalced is known in the milieu is worse. The extension of it into which Selden is being increasingly drawn is worse yet, the formal irony clear from the name of his new enslaver. For Ellik has, of course, already fed some of Selden to the Duke…and I wonder, now, if there is not some parallel to Rawbread and the Forgings at work, though I know that will take other eyes than I currently have to seek out fully.

Another in a Series of Ruminations on Observances

I‘ve commented before on the events commemorated today and upon the problems attendant upon that commemoration. I do note hearing less about the matter this time around than previously, which I am not sure is a good thing–or even consistent with other issues. There are a lot of failures, setback, and evils that get repeated and propped up, and I am in favor of pointing out the problems in things. (Yes, I am great fun at parties; why do you ask?) At the same time, I am not in favor of praising those who are not praiseworthy, and I am not unmindful that the political circumstances that lead to certain acts of praise beginning are no longer in force. (Others very much are, to the collective detriment of the world and my small part of it.) So there is and remains some tension in my mind and thought, and I remain uncertain how to resolve it.

Honestly, it’s better than it might be.
Photo by Engin Akyurt on Pexels.com

So much said, I recognize the position I occupy in that regard as one privileged. I am not burdened by the outcomes of the events in question, except that I choose to be; I could follow the example set by a great many, no few of which remain on live, and simply not give a damn about such things as the perniciously persistent inequities and erasures that are at work in the world. I could simply let things be, not digging deeper into “old shit” that “doesn’t matter,” even if it is the case that my tax dollars are paying for the maintenance of commemorations to what amounts to the beginnings of genocide. (Taking time off costs money, too, you know.) I could shut my eyes to the plight of others plain to see, seal my ears against the mourning plain to hear–and there are even justifications I might give for doing so. There are enough other problems in the world, after all, and I can actually do something about some of them, now and again; I would not be wrong to focus my attention on those problems and work to address them, rather than to give even so much attention as this to something that lies almost wholly outside my abilities.

But that “almost wholly” nags at me, one of many such things to do so.

I readily admit that there is not much I can do in this world. I am trained in the humanities in a world that does not value them and barely pretends to do so, and I labor to the extent that I am able (I am looking for work, by the way, but people have to be willing to hire for me to find it) under a load of debt that I took while believing–because I had been told as much, repeatedly across many years, by people I was supposed to be able to trust to know what they were about–that my doing so would lead to the kind of job that would allow me to repay that debt and the concomitant interest and to have a comfortable life in which I could understand myself to be doing some good for some people. Each inhibits what I can actually do. But if all I can do is to keep in mind the wrongs done in the world of which I am aware, then I am obliged to do it by my ethics and morals. (Yes, I do have them.) Thus something like this, in which I note what I see is and how I see it, though I do not know how I can make things better.

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