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

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A brief adage from Chalced precedes “Warm Water.” As the chapter itself begins, Nighteyes complains of boredom as he is obliged to wait with Fitz for death to come. Fitz notes being surprised to still live, rehearsing his situation in some detail. He and Nighteyes confer internally, the wolf urging him to make a decision and act upon it rather than simply waiting, and Fitz searches what he can reach for some tool to help him. He encounters the titular warm water and is surprised again, attempting to determine its source. Belatedly, he realizes it is a bit of Elderling magic, and he settles into reverie and self-pity for which the wolf rebukes him.

Fitz soon finds out, the hard way, that Chade’s exploding powder can detonate underwater, spurred by the Elderling magic, and the Silver that he had carried splashes all over him. Nighteyes reminds him afterward that the Silver has afforded Verity and the Fool abilities to reshape and rework objects, and Fitz applies himself to reshaping his surroundings to permit his escape. So freed, Fitz slowly pushes forward in an attempt to reunite with the Fool and Bee, and he recognizes the impact his exercise of magic has had upon his body.

At length, Fitz emerges into open air and sees the ruin of Clerres. He also sees the Vivacia pulling away, and he attempts without success to Skill to Bee. Fitz further spies Motley, and Nighteyes remarks that the crow has seen him. He and the crow confer brokenly, and the crow delivers food to him. Drinking from a spring afterward, Fitz encounters Prilkop, who shares food with him amid an awkward conversation. Fitz learns much of recent events from it, and Prilkop mourns what good there had been in Clerres that has been lost with its destruction.

The two part with respect but not friendship, and Fitz finds Capra in the night. An assassin yet, he takes fatal vengeance for the Fool and for Bee, then departs.

The brief prefatory comments put me in mind of JC 2.2.34-35, the comment that “Cowards die many times before their deaths; / the valiant never taste of death but once.” I’ve written before about Shakespearean correspondences in Hobb’s Realm of the Elderlings corpus, if with a different focus and a narrow scope due both to the structures of conference papers and the fact that fewer of works existed in the corpus at the time; it is, again, perhaps another scholarly someday that I would return to and expand upon said conference paper with the fuller works in place. That there should be such evocations is unsurprising; there is a reason that so much ink is spilled across so much time about how Shakespeare pops up after himself, and given the privileged position Shakespeare’s works continue to occupy in such conceptions of English-language literary canons that persist, that Hobb would make use of such resonances, consciously or not, is almost inevitable.

The latter parts of the chapter command some attention. The ending, with its comment about the half-chicken Fitz purloins from the slain Capra, strikes me as particularly funny. There’s something about the juxtaposition of the simple pleasure in tasty food and the grim, magically-enhanced work for which Fitz has long been trained and in which he has been reportedly adept that prompted laughter from me–although I admit to being primed for such things, having been steeped in Jenkinsian lore and having written a paper I wish had been published but that led to some useful tutorial materials, at least. And perhaps it is the case that such bits of humor point towards expectations about primary audiences, as well, another in a long series of scholarly somedays.

I am taken, too, by Prilkop’s near-fawning over Capra in the wake of the destruction of Clerres. That Prilkop prizes parts of his ancient home has been clear for several chapters, and he is not in error to point out that there were many in Clerres who could not rightly be held accountable for the many heinous misdeeds done by the Servants, their chosen Prophets, and the cult surrounding both. But for him not only to take delight in people surviving the dragons, but also to lionize Capra’s assumption of unitary leadership and to believe her promise of return to older ways (716), strikes me as…naïve, at best. Given the color dynamics at work (and acknowledging the ways in which earlier portions of the Realm of the Elderlings corpus), I find myself in mind of Uncles Tom and Ruckus, and it’s a markedly uncomfortable line of thought for me. That it is presented as a negative helps to some degree, but that there is still the invocation of such a stereotype…as I note, it’s not comfortable reading for me.

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