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Following a somewhat threatening message from Kim to Hest’s father, “Final Chances” begins with the Chalcedeans pursuing Tintaglia continue their search for her. Hest looks on as the search continues, considering his increasing precarity and the likely prospects of Selden and Alise. The Chalcedeans espy a group of dragons come in search of Tintaglia and make ready to attack, and Hest assesses the likely outcome grimly.

The progress of the dragons and Rapskal along their search for Tintaglia is detailed. Sintara regards Rapskal with some annoyance and suspicion and considers the relationship between human and dragon. The attack begins.

Hest reels as the Chalcedean vessels come under assault. The order to abandon the ships is given, and Hest happily heeds it, fleeing into the trees. He notes the effect of the dragons briefly as he does.

Sintara and the other dragons continue their assault, delighting in it. Sintara continues to regard Rapskal with suspicion as he steps forth to call the Chalcedeans to judgment.

Hest heeds the command and, after being questioned briefly, is taken into custody and servitude, to be transported to Kelsingra. Dargen refuses to be taken captive, attacking; he is summarily eaten for his troubles. Hest and most of the others do not repeat the error.

Elsewhere, Mercor finds a flagging Tintaglia and reports that she has been avenged upon her attackers. In her mind, Tintaglia reaches for Selden and thinks she perceives his response from afar.

In Kelsingra, the keepers note the absence of their dragons, and they confer about the events and about the changes overtaking Rapskal. Work to clear the well begins anew, proceeding decently.

Leftrin takes a turn at the work, noting the progress and the increasing efforts necessary to maintain it. When he takes a break from the work, he notes the status of Malta, Reyn, and Phron. Alise’s arrival disrupts his reverie, and she reports her failure to find aid for the Khupruses. Leftrin issues orders for Alise’s care and returns to the work.

At length, the assembled keepers and crew are able to raise a bucket of Silver. The behavior of the material is described as the assembled witness it. And with that success, Leftrin sends the group off to rest.

Tintaglia continues to fade, considering her looming death. One of the dragons, Kalo, presents her with food before returning to the hunt for himself. She eats, strengthening and in pain, and resumes her progress towards Kelsingra. Kalo’s odd behavior strikes her, but she accepts it.

There is a bit of interest for me in a comment made by the Chalcedeans early in the chapter: “Dragons! A flock of dragons!” (225). One of the more entertaining quirks of modern Englishes is the hold-over from centuries past–and, indeed, earlier Englishes–of collective nouns, such as “a murder of crows,” “a pride of lions,” or “a murmuration of starlings.” It’s a small bit of delight in what is, for many, a tedious study, and one that has provoked no few jokes, some of which Melissa Gronlund points out here. Dragons, though, don’t necessarily have a stable collective noun; they’re not real, after all, and many of those found in English-language literature prior to Tolkien are solitary things. Even in Tolkien, most dragons are presented in isolation from one another; Glaurung doesn’t have much company, nor yet does Smaug, and Scatha the Worm is not presented, to my recollection, as being part of a group. (The assault of Ancalagon the Black and the other winged dragons in the War of Wrath is a marked event, to be sure, but it is marked.)

Admittedly, there have been some authors who have addressed the issue. McCaffrey, as memory serves (it’s been a while since I read Pern), tends towards “weyr.” Yarros, recently popular as of this writing, tends toward “riot.” Paolini is pointed about calling his dragon-group a “thunder.” I am certain there are others; there are limits to what I have read, and I wonder what D&D uses at this point (I’ve yet to play in Fifth Edition). What the “appropriate” collective for dragons “should” be, then, is not entirely clear. I do think, however, that the term used is indicative; the Chalcedeans regarding it as a “flock,” linking dragons with birds, says something about them. I can easily imagine the people of the Six Duchies calling a group of dragons a garden, and the Elderlings that are emerging will likely stumble into other, more ornate, terms if and as they develop a new culture in and around Kelsingra.

I note, too, the many divisions of the present chapter, most of which are quite brief. (Each paragraph in the summary reflects such a division, a practice common to this rereading series.) I am aware that the commonplace for such chapter-divisions is that they are roughly contemporaneous unless otherwise specified; that is, the short sections shifting focus between two groups or among more are to be read as happening more or less at the same time, with successive sections focusing on one group proceeding in chronological order. (Again, unless otherwise specified; I’ve read enough to know that authors sometimes like to screw with in-milieu time as they present events, and that doesn’t even factor explicit time-travel into things.) It seems a strange thing to my eye that Hobb accelerates action in the present chapter in such a way; yes, there’s a lot going on, but the interleaving at work is somewhat marked. I’m not at all sure why.

Maybe I’ll figure it out as I continue to reread on.

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Following a reply from Jani to Keffria (the earlier message being here), “Dragon Warrior” begins with Hest continuing to languish as the Chalcedeans pursue Tintaglia, whom they assailed. Hest’s own condition and that of Tintaglia are detailed as pursuit continues.

For her own part, Tintaglia presses ahead, fuming at her pursuit and avowing that she will not be butchered as if livestock. She determines to assail her pursuers in the night, meaning to wreck them and flee with the eggs growing inside her.

Dargen has Hest escort him to the ship’s railing that he might relieve himself. As he does so, Hest spies Tintaglia, who attacks.

In Kelsingra, Rapskal and Thymara continue their explorations, joined by the rest of the expedition. Work to restore the well of Silver is in progress, that work detailed. Updates to the statuses of various keepers and crew of the Tarman are made. Spit gets a small taste of Silver while the work goes on, and the keepers note the change that comes upon him as he does, wondering what a greater, steady supply will do for the dragons. At length, enough of the well is cleared that the keepers can drop lights to check the level of Silver in the well, but the results are not promising. The dragons grow angry at the report, and Thymara, calling on embedded memories, explains more of the dragons’ need for the substance and Kelsingra’s rise to prominence among the Elderlings. Given the importance of the Silver, Reyn vows to find it for Phron.

In the wake of her assault on her Chalcedean pursuers, Tintaglia languishes. Further injuries beset her, and she calls out in what she believes will be her final battle.

In Kelsingra, Carson notes that the Silver may yet be accessible, and the keepers prepare to retire for the evening. As they do, however, Tintaglia’s call reaches them, and Malta calls for aid from the dragons and keepers about her. Rapskal begins to be overtaken by the memories of an ancient warrior, Tellator, and Thymara works to return him to himself as he makes ready to rush to Tintaglia’s aid.

The present chapter takes an interesting tack, I think, in presenting Hest’s increasing accommodation to his fallen status. And it is not that being a servant, as such, is demeaning; there is nobility in work of all sorts. The fall, rather, is that Hest is effectively enslaved, although he is not yet tattooed in accord with Chalcedean and Jamaillian practice, and he is adjusting to that status, even as he recognizes with some horror the changes occurring in him as he does so. Given the resonances between the Traders and the early United States, I find it hard not to see some proposed parallels at work, though I acknowledge I am not the person who ought to explicate them in any great detail.

I note, too, a return to descriptions echoing addiction in the attitudes the dragons, particularly Spit, voice towards the Silver. As a commonplace in the Realm of the Elderlings novels, addiction is something I’ve noted repeatedly throughout the rereading; I have to think it is among the most prevalent themes in the novels, and it seems the kind of thing that those more inclined to biographical criticism would want to pursue. (For my part, I know better than to look. HIPAA is in place for damned good reasons.) And, as I reread, I find myself in mind of the spice mélange from Arrakis in Dune and the following novels–itself addictive and enhancing; I am not at all up on literary scholarship treating Frank Herbert, so I cannot speak with any certainty to its own references, but I have to think that those at work in it are also at work with the Silver in Kelsingra, if at some remove.

Of more importance for the Realm of the Elderlings corpus is Mercor’s report of the powers associated with Silver for Elderlings–the strange features of Kelsingra, as well as the Skill-roads and the stone garden with which so much of the Farseer novels are concerned, and the Skill-pillars that feature prominently in the Tawny Man novels. Mercor’s remark on the peril of contact with Silver by humans is somewhat telling; Verity fairly bathes in it, and while he does meet his end, it is because of his quest rather than the direct effect of the Silver, itself. In effect, Hobb confirms in the present chapter that the Skill is itself a legacy of the Elderlings, something that puts me in mind of Tolkien (the “blood of Westernesse” notable in Denethor and Faramir but not in Boromir presents itself), although being put in such mind while reading Hobb is not a surprise.

(Another thought occurs, as well. The Silver, in its unadulterated form, offers power and mastery. Water that flows through it, however, becomes…problematic. The Earthblood that wells up under Melenkurion Skyweir in Donaldson’s Chronicles of Thomas Covenant novels seems antecedent. The source-studies implications of the present chapter are somewhat dizzying; I find myself once again longing for the time and resources to undertake such traceries. Perhaps another can work on such projects?)

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This chapter presents and discusses sexual assault.

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A brief formal commendation for Erek precedes “Silver,” which begins with Sedric and Carson conferring about a place to settle and how they should prepare for the coming times. Carson finds himself somewhat confused at Sedric’s desires for material comfort and appreciative of his lover’s appearance. As they walk Kelsingra together, Carson opens himself cautiously to the memories embedded in the stones, and he and Sedric recognize themselves as having entered an older part of the city. Exploring further, the pair find an open plaza that attracts the attentions of the dragons with which they are bonded, and they stumble upon the well of Silver that the dragons covet. The two arrive at some understanding of the importance of the site, and the dragons begin to join them.

Elsewhere in the city, Thymara starts awake from sleeping next to Tats. The two confer, touching on the need to fill the years of their expectedly lengthening lives and the issue of Rapskal, whose reliance on others’ memories is cited as becoming a problem. Tats reports the conversation in some detail, and considerations of the changes to social structures that extended lifetimes would necessitate are mentioned. The two grow increasingly comfortable together until they are summoned by their dragons to the well of Silver.

In Chalced, Selden wakes to hear Chassim‘s protests. He moves to investigate and finds her under assault by Eilik. Selden attempts unsuccessfully to intercede, and Eilik leaves him unconscious.

Later, Chassim shakes Selden awake, reporting her sexual assault and noting it as a recurring event for her. Selden reports his own experience of sexual assault, and Chassim offers only cold comfort. She turns their conversation to the changes Tintaglia has effected upon Selden, staying only briefly upon it before departing.

I‘ve noted before (here, for example) my impression that Hobb is borrowing from or working with the same tropes as Asimov at points in the Elderlings corpus. I think something similar is at work in the present chapter in the discussion between Thymara and Tats. When I was really introduced to Asimov’s writings more than thirty years ago–I remember being ten at the time, though I have dim recollections of my mother having a boxed set of the Foundation novels released just after the publication of Foundation’s Edge–it was by way of his Robot novels. Said novels make much of the Spacers, a subset of humanity that has achieved greatly extended lifespans due to medical and other technological advances and freedom from the prevalence of diseases on Earth. While Asimov does not necessarily delve deeply into the sociological implications of centuries-long lives, he does point out some changes among the Spacer worlds from how the more “normal” Earthpeople live, most notably in terms of sexual politics. (Yes, I am aware that it’s problematic. I’m also aware that I’m not up on the relevant scholarship–and I never really was; my focus was otherwise, for all my nerdiness.) The discussion between Thymara and Tats that comprises the second section of the chapter seems very much in that line; I don’t know that it’s enough to suggest explicit borrowing, but, given other factors at work in Hobb’s writing, I have to entertain the possibility–though I have to acknowledge, also, that it might simply be a matter of having been influenced by earlier reading or even a reasonable thinking-through of implications of the reality in which Hobb’s characters exist.

I’ve noted, too, the presentation of sexual assault in Hobb’s work. It’s to be expected, admittedly, given the prevalence of such acts in the readers’ world and in other works of fantasy literature. (Some revel in the presentation, as is readily seen.) Chassim’s frank discussion of it strikes me somewhat strangely, although I recognize that as being partly an artifact of my privilege. Selden’s confession of the same also strikes me, though differently, and I have to wonder what kind of internalized double standards remain at work in me that I perceive such a difference. I do note, though, that Hobb appears to give more space to Selden’s discussion than Chassim’s. There is doubtlessly something to find in that disparity, but, as I have noted, I am not up on the research I would need to be able to pull out any such thing.

I sometimes miss having ready access to reports of research. I more often miss having the time to spend familiarizing myself with those reports. Sometimes, though, I wonder if I am not better off now for not giving so much of myself to taking in those discussions as I used to do; there is no comfort in reading what others write about the many horrors of the world that have happened and that continue to happen, especially when the reader can do little or nothing to affect them.

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Following a relayed letter to Reyn and Malta from Wintrow, in which the unsuccessful search for Selden is reported, “Tintaglia’s Touch” opens with Malta unsuccessfully pleading with Mercor for aid for Phron. Mercor notes that kinship with Tintaglia would be required for him to be able to assist the boy, and he is not of her kin. Alise intercedes to pursue more information from Mercor, which her flattery is able to secure from the dragon. Some of the relationship between dragons and Elderlings is explicated, and some of Malta’s own background is related. Mercor reiterates a call for Silver, citing its necessity for the Elderling magic in Kelsingra to work, and Malta and Reyn retire to be with their son as his death approaches.

Elsewhere, Hest is brusquely woken by his Chalcedean assailant. The ship on which they both travel has spotted a sleeping blue dragon, and Hest is asked for how to kill it. He responds only haltingly and unhelpfully, and his captors plot how they will approach and attack the dragon. Hest is returned to confinement, and he considers his situation and possibilities.

Tintaglia wakes to find herself assailed. She defends herself with difficulty, her injuries and fatigue telling on her, and she retreats in anger, vowing vengeance upon the lot and calling for help from Kelsingra in little hope.

The present chapter notes the name of Hest’s long-time assailant, Lord Dargen; if memory serves, it is the first place to do so. I’ve remarked before, most recently here, on Hobb’s tendency to employ emblematic names; accordingly, I took a look at meanings associated with Dargen. Among others, it’s a town in Germany near its border with Poland and the Baltic. It’s also a reported surname, linked by various sources to heritages in the British Isles, and it shows up to a casual internet search as a treatment for anemia.

None of those seem particularly apt, though the same casual internet search suggests “d’argent” and “dragon” as likely “intended” searches (the “Did you mean X?” sort of thing that search engines return). The former seems an odd fit, although trade in silver certainly happens in the Elderlings milieu. The association with dragons is more appropriate, I think; certainly, Dargen’s conduct bespeaks the draconian (I do not ask for pardon for the pun) nature of his homeland and the evil traditionally associated with dragons in the dominant threads of English-language literature. If there is an emblem at work here, and there well may be, it is likely in that association; Dargen is like a dragon, although he is certainly not one.

I note something of a pattern of the futility of threat in the chapter, as well. Several characters find themselves desiring action against others and unable to accomplish it, and it seems spread across the peoples present–human, Elderling, and dragon. What is to be made of it, if anything, escapes me at the moment; it may well be a throwaway thing, although I tend to resist such an interpretation. Each word on each page is placed deliberately and agreed upon by author, editor, and publisher (among others), after all, so it’s more likely to be something, even a small thing, than nothing. Else, why spend the paper and ink?

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Following an extended report from Reyall to Detozi about the changing situation surrounding the bird-keepers and tightening security measures, “Passing Ships” begins with Hest considering his changed and deteriorated situation, put to hard use by his assailant. The assailant’s methods convince Hest that he has been only a dilettante, and he finds himself placed unhelpfully amid an ongoing Chalcedean conspiracy that takes him and a number of others upriver aboard one of the new “impervious” ships, but not the one pursuing the Tarman towards Kelsingra. Hest’s complicity is discovered, and other prisoners begin to rise against him, and he finds himself conscripted into servitude by the Chalcedeans aboard ship, realizing he is alone and abandoned.

As the voyage upstream continues, Hest continues to ruminate on his situation, his thoughts souring on Sedric. His reverie is broken by the approach of the ship that had pursued the Tarman, asking for aid in the wake of having been beset by the dragons outside Kelsingra. Hest is sent belowdecks to ponder what has befallen.

Elsewhere, Tintaglia flies again, her path away from Trehaug traced. She muses angrily on Chalced as she flies, though she is buoyed up by the realization that the dragons have reached Kelsingra. Amid her pain, she feeds, and she lapses unto an uneasy sleep.

Reading the chapter this time, I find myself of mixed feeling toward Hest. He remains largely unsympathetic, musing on what he had wrongly thought himself to be and raging at Sedric and Alise for what are, ultimately, his own actions. At the same time, as he is confronted with substantial physical violence, Hest’s compliance with the demands of his Chalcedean assailant is eminently understandable. Even so, though, he works toward the peril of his fellow Traders, something for which he is rightly rebuked…it’s hard to say that he didn’t have much of most of what happens to him coming, but it’s also hard to say that anyone, fictional or otherwise, deserves the kind of treatment he receives–and which all too many people in all too many parts of the world have endured and still endure, as must be recognized.

The problem I continue to have is with the ways in which Hest reinforces long-standing stereotypes about homosexual men. I can see an argument made that his mistreatment and the ongoing disfavorable presentation (for example, here) serve to comment upon the problems of the stereotype, that the way Hest is treated serves as a rebuke of the tropes he embodies, although I would note that Sedric is similarly presented early on (reference here, for example), and he finds at-least partial redemption. Such might mean that Hest serves as a counter-example to Sedric, and it is the case that Sedric is not alone among the homosexual men in the series in finding narrative valuation. So perhaps the message is that adherence to the tropes of dandyism is the problem, although that message presents its own difficulties, and I am not sufficiently skilled anymore to untangle them, if ever I was.

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