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

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Following some commentary by a Bingtown Trader about the origins of the liveships, “The Liveship Paragon” begins with Fitz considering his own image on the figurehead of the eponymous vessel. The Fool as Amber claims to be able to explain, something about which Fitz expresses doubt before returning to his contemplation of Trehaug as he approaches it aboard Tarman. The liveship barge docks alongside what had been the Ludlucks’ ship, and Amber, the Paragon, and the ship’s crew exchange greetings.

As the Paragon makes to take Fitz and his company aboard, Fitz examines the figurehead closely, his magics taking in the liveship and his thoughts returning to his journey to the Out Islands with Thick. Perseverance finds himself rapidly integrated into the ship’s company as Fitz and his other companions are taken into conference with Brashen and Althea, with whom introductions are made. After a brief talk, in which Spark is easily accommodated, Althea is called away by ship’s business, leaving Brashen to give something of a tour of the vessel to his passengers. Fitz learns some of the crew’s background and histories, including some of the tensions ensnaring the Vestrit family, and he finds himself uncomfortably the focus of the ship’s attention.

Afterward, Fitz returns to conference with Althea and Brashen, and more of the liveship’s history is rehearsed to him. He accepts rebuke for his carelessness, and he confides in the Fool his increasing propensity towards error. The Fool offers some comfort, but Fitz continues to berate himself for his perceived follies. The Fool, however, accepts the finality of their quest together.

There is more to say about chronology in the present chapter. The Paragon asks Amber “Where have you been for the last twenty-odd years?” (214), a reasonable question that offers a useful but inexact report of the time that passed between the end of the Liveship novels and the present chapter. The question of Fitz’s age emerges again, as well (229), giving some explicitly inexact indication of how many years have passed (note this and this). There is some use in having a general sense of time, of course; there is also some use to the author in keeping things general. Fandom can be…difficult…as I’ve noted in passing. (I’m minded of Jeffrey Ford’s “The Fantasy Writer’s Assistant,” as well; it’s a good read, worth the time.) Pegging down exact dates for events in the main narrative invites readers to look for places where they do not line up, and even if verisimilitude would suggest that keeping track of specific dates is not always doable, such misalignments are hooks upon which complaints can be hung easily. Avoiding them reduces some negative commentary by denying the opportunity for it to arise.

The actions of the liveship Paragon in the present chapter also bring to mind some of the earlier work I’ve done, looking (in perhaps less detail than deserves to be done, but there’s only so much that fits into a conference paper) at sites of memory in the Elderlings corpus. I make the argument, among others, that the liveships themselves function as ongoing memorials, but in a particularly fraught fashion. The Paragon, given the circumstances of the ship’s construction and the treatment of the last Ludluck crew aboard (for information about which, see the Liveship Traders novels, my rereading of which begins here), is even more fraught than the rest of the liveships, and the fact that decades do not seem to have eased the ship’s being may have uncomfortable implications. (I had the sudden thought of comparing the liveships, generally, and the Paragon in particular, to the creature in Frankenstein. If someone’s beaten me to it, please let me know.)

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