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

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The nineteenth chapter of Shaman’s Crossing, “Intervention,” opens three days before the coming culling, Nevare noting that news of the event had spread, driving a flurry of intensive study and a concomitant dampening of the cadets’ mood. Individual subject difficulties are reported, and Trist continues to pressure Spink and Gord towards academic dishonesty. Spink also labors under an onus regarding his status on prohibition due to the accusations of immorality levied against him, one that Nevare begins to think applies to him, as well, when correspondence with his uncle stops.

Nevare’s concerns are not allayed when he is summoned by Colonel Stiet once again. Arriving as ordered, he finds his commander and his uncle awaiting him, and he is asked why he has not written to Sefert. Nevare reports that he has posted daily letters to him but had grown concerned about a lack of reply; the interruption is put down to problems with the post, and Sefert informs Colonel Stiet that he will ensure more direct correspondence between himself and his nephew. Sefert then takes his leave of the Colonel, although he pauses to talk to Caulder on his way out.

As Sefert walks Nevare back to his dormitories, he speaks with his nephew, remarking much on his wife’s political leanings and noting that, while he would not necessarily oppose a relationship between Spink and his daughter, such would have to wait for her to enter social adulthood–but that Daraleen would not be amenable to such a match and that it therefore will not be permitted. The pair also talk about the coming culling, as well as the upcoming Dark Evening and its associated liberties. Sefert assures Nevare that, while there were historical practices that have almost wholly fallen away, the holiday serves merely as a carnivalesque relaxation of norms rather than a flouting and refutation of them.

Sefert departs, leaving Nevare to check in with Sergeant Rufet and return to his studies. A letter from Carsina awaits him, and he muses over what he actually knows of her as he reads it, growing frustrated with Epiny for having inadvertently forced him to interrogate his assumptions. Studies proceed, with Nevare and his cohort arriving at last at the resolution that they either know the materials they need to or not, that no further work will avail them.

As Nevare sleeps the night before exams, he dreams of himself with Tree Woman. The version of himself that accompanies her is described with some revulsion, and Nevare hears that something comes soon from her and from the magic in which she is entwined. Nevare attempts to free himself and falls in the dream, waking to find himself on the floor of his quarters, bleeding from his old scalp-wound, and he returns to his bed and sleep with difficulty.

To address the chapter-length issue: the present chapter, in the edition of the novel I’m rereading, runs 19 pages in length, approximately 3.29% of the novel. There is a certain fittingness of the nineteenth chapter running as many pages, although I do not think it is an intentional thing, given the previous chapters being of variable (and more than once longer) lengths. While I continue to think there may be something to track in considering chapter-lengths–and I am tempted to go back to the Realm of the Elderlings corpus to pull out some of that data as soon as time allows, although I am a bit embarrassed not to have thought of looking at percentages prior to getting started on Soldier Son–I do not know what that something is at this point. So much said, I recall discussing various assignments (such as this one) back when I had students; one of the ways into finding what a given text is doing is to look at its textual features, including word-counts. The more technically-minded students benefited from the approach; those of more artistic leanings also got something else to consider. And it does require examination of a thing to rule out its relevance, in any event.

Also, for indexing purposes, the following: Caleb, Captain Infal, Carneston House, Carsina Grenalter, Caulder Stiet, Colonel Stiet, Corporal Hawley, Council of Lords, Daraleen Burvelle, Dark Evening, Elisi Burvelle, Epiny Burvelle, Gaser, Gernia, Gord Lading, Keft Burvelle, King Jurew, King Jurew’s War, King Troven, King’s Cavalla Academy, Kort Braxton, Long Night, Lord Kester, Mistress Pintor’s Finishing Conservatory, Natred Verlaney, Nevare Burvelle, Old Thares, Purissa Burvelle, Rory, Sefert Burvelle, Sergeant Rufet, Shinter House, Spinrek “Spink” Kester, Tree Woman, Trist Wissom, Varnian. The inclusion of some few incidentals–Gaser, King Jurew and his war, Mistress Pintor’s Finishing Conservatory, and others–once again points to the verisimilitude of the setting, noting that there is life outside what Nevare experiences; there is a larger world in which he exists, much as there is one in which his readers do, and the correspondence makes for a more authentic setting.

A point of interest emerged for me as I reread the present chapter. While walking Nevare back to his quarters, Sefert notes not having had a sister: “Your father and I and our two younger brothers were like a den of bear cubs growing up” (440). Per “Harbinger” and “Bessom Gord,” as well as glancing mentions in other parts of the text, this means Nevare’s grandparents had an heir, a soldier son, a priest son, and an artist son. Yet, for all that Keft is strictly observant in his home, there is to my recollection no prior mention of Nevare’s other uncles, and I have to wonder about that.* Is it a matter of a more distant relationship among those brothers than between Sefert and Keft? Differences in age? Or perhaps a commentary on the perceived removal of governance and the force needed to maintain it from more humanisitic pursuits? It might well be there’s another scholarly someday therein, but then, I would suspect so much is the case.

Also of interest for me is Nevare’s incredulity at his aunt’s political drive (443). It is not at all to his credit that he should be surprised that the wife of a noble would have ambitions; it is more to his credit when he considers that Carsina might well have as rich an internal life as himself or his cousin (446), but it is much less so when he notes his assumptions about women’s dispositions (447). Misogyny, even if arguably well intentioned,** is not a mark in Nevare’s favor of in that of the culture which has given rise to him and of which he can be regarded as something of an exemplar.† The failure to consider others as people is never a good thing, and the fact that coming to consider others thus leads Nevare to doubt even those for whom he claims to care marks him as…flawed. But then, a character without flaw cannot develop and improve, and it is unfair to expect every (or any) character in a past-analogous setting to have modern attitudes (even if the earlier ones can be rejected as unhelpful or worse); it is also not the case that even a protagonist has to be likeable to engage readers and keep them going through the text.

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* I wonder, too, that Sefert does not employ his brother as his household priest, although that may simply be a matter of specializations not aligning. Too, that might have to do more with formal ecclesiastical structures in Gernia and surrounding countries; while Soldier Son is more explicit about religious practice than a lot of other fantasy work, there’s still much it does not say about churches and their practices.

** I am aware that intent matters far less than effect; I’ve stated as much repeatedly, in this rereading series and elsewhere. And I know that misogyny is a pattern in Gernia as well as in the United States from which I have repeatedly asserted it borrows. But I think it is rather a case of misunderstanding than of malevolence on Nevare’s part, and if it is the case that it remains oppressive, it is also the case that it is less bad–not better–than were it otherwise. Too, as noted, character development is a thing, and bad ideas in the young that are subsequently cast aside can, perhaps, be forgiven. I certainly have enough such foolishness in my past to hope so.

† I know I’ve not laid out the full argument of this point, and I know it’s not a straight-line argument to make, but I’ve also noted a large number of things to do, so adding one more makes little difference. For the moment, it will suffice to note that the fact of Nevare as the focal character forces him into the role of “typical” Gernian; he is the only one for whom readers have access to interiority and thus the effects of socialization. Given Keft’s insistence on correctness (if with a few choice quirks inserted), he can be regarded as, at least at a surface level and for the present, as what a good Gernian ought to be.

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