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Fitz dreams of Nighteyes as a preface to “An Exchange of Substance,” waking as the chapter begins and assessing himself and his surroundings. He notes that Ash has come and gone again, and he purposes to check on the Fool before sleeping further. He finds the Fool convalescing, and the two confer briefly before Fitz sets out breakfast for his friend. Over the meal, they talk further, the Fool relating more of his journeys; it is an unhappy tale that takes the Fool and Prilkop to Clerres, where they are taken in and taken in, and the Fool weeps over his folly.

One of the Fool’s comments speaks to the Pale Woman, naming her as a thing made by the Servants to enact their goals, and Fitz’s mind races back over what he has known to sort in the new information he has gained. The Fool comments that Fitz’s existence and actions thwarted the long designs of the Servants to some extent, and they discuss that point before Fitz tends to the Fool’s injuries again. The experience is unpleasant but soon concluded, and talk turns more fully to healing and the mixtures of magics that have pervaded their lives.

Fitz makes to prepare for an audience with Kettricken in his role as Feldspar, but the Fool halts him by resuming his narration of his travels. He teases him as he had once done, offering what reassurance he can before lapsing into sleep.

The present chapter, particularly Fitz’s assessment of the Servants’ breeding program, calls to mind other major prognosticatory threads in fantasy and science fiction: Asimov’s psychohistory and Herbert’s spice-fueled insights. Hobb has some connections to both; I have long commented on the ways in which the Fitz-centric novels emulate the Asimovian encyclopedia-entries in their chapter-beginnings, and Hobb has geographical associations with Herbert. The selective breeding programs, the cold calculations, the access to multiple possible futures and the refinement of predictions from years of gathered observations all speak to a similar narrative construction among the three (and, doubtlessly, others, but I am limited in my observations to what I have read often and know well).

In Asimov and Herbert, the protagonists work to gain control of the prognostication; such is not apt to be the case in Hobb, although some of that is because they already have some degree of control over it. The Fool has been, and it seems that Bee is, a White Prophet, whose dreams foretell events to come; they already have learned what awaits, at least to some extent. The rest is foreshadowed in Fitz’s reaction to the Fool’s description; he is horrified at the implications, and Fitz’s horror often results in things dying, not always peacefully or swiftly.

As in the earlier works, Hobb’s corpus invites consideration of the tension between fate and free will. I’m not as up on the philosophical work done in that line as I probably ought to be (although I will plead that there is only so much time, and I do have other things that demand my attention and study), so I don’t know that I am well positioned to explicate the parallels and borrowings in that regard. I’m not sure that there’s been much work done that way, either (although I do have some more items to review for the Fedwren Project that might speak to that end). It seems a project worth undertaking, though, even if it’s not one of my many scholarly somedays…

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After lyrics from Hap Gladheart, “The Fool’s Tale” begins with Fitz returning to Chade’s old hidden rooms, where he inadvertently wakes the Fool into a trauma response. The two confer for a time together, the Fool asking about Bee and relating some of the circumstances of his imprisonment and abuse before resuming his account of his life since his ragged parting from Fitz. Passing through Skill-pillars to Kelsingra and beyond, the Fool and Prilkop made for Clerres, and the Fool interrupts his account to muse on one moment in his torment and the arrival of one of his messengers to Fitz.

Conversation pivots to the Fool’s encounter with Bee, which he had misunderstood, and falters in favor of Fitz’s medical attentions to the Fool. His Skill reaches into the Fool, and the extent of his injuries and underlying illness is made clear to him once again. He bends his magic to the task of healing, only to find himself roused out of a stupor by a frantic Chade and Nettle. Discussion of events ensues, and Fitz is given additional assignments; after Nettle leaves, Chade and Fitz confer more closely, including about Ash. Once Chade leaves, Fitz makes to see to himself, noting strange wounds whose source confuses him. Setting the matter aside, he retires for what sleep he can get.

The lyrics that introduce the chapter draw my attention, as might be expected for an old English major. I reproduce them here to facilitate discussion (they’re on pg. 57 of the edition of the text I’m reading, the first edition hardcover from 2015); the words, of course, are not my own:

When winter’s clutch is cold and dark
And game is scarce and forest stark,
This songster to the hearth retreats
To warm his cheeks and icy feet.

But on the hill and in the glen
Are hunters hardier than men.
With lolling tongues and eyes that gleam
They surge through snow with breath like steam.

For in the hunt there is no morrow,
Time does not wait. There is no sorrow
As blood spills black and snarls are rife.
For life is meat, and death brings life.

The lyrics given are in iambic tetrameter couplets, which would “normally” indicate some light or satiric thrust due to the long-standing association with Hudibras. The subject matter belies the association, however, particularly in the final line presented (which, it must be noted, may not be the final line of the song); it does call to mind–appropriately, given the generic associations–some of the verse penned by JRR Tolkien and included in, say, The Silmarillion. (The Lay of Leithian is an example.) The line-structure suggests, further, that the kind of minstrelsy in which Hap is trained follows a common 4/4 pattern; each line suggests a measure of music, with each stanza being a single verse in a song, such that a brief musical refrain can be imagined easily between the stanzas. In the former case, the association with generic standards reinforces the notion that, despite Hobb’s divergences from it, she remains rooted in the Tolkienian fantasy tradition (which she acknowledges); the reinforcement helps keep her work accessible to readers. Similarly, the implied musical structure at work in Hap’s song is one likely to be familiar to Hobb’s presumed primary readership; its inclusion, then, helps with accessibility. Her readers are presented with something new that is also familiar, allowing them to more easily engage with the text–something about which Hobb has expressed concern. That concern would appear to be addressed in the introductory material to the present chapter, as elsewhere in the Elderlings corpus.

There’s also a lovely bit of additive foreshadowing at work. The messenger that had reached Fitz at Withywoods, whose body he had burned, had reported being infected in such a way as to make contact with her a peril. In the present chapter, Fitz has had prolonged physical contact with a gravely injured and long-ill Fool. He also shows up with strange wounds whose source he cannot recall, and he makes an assumption about them he does not pursue. Hobb being Hobb, and Fitz being Fitz, it is clear that he is in another poor position, and once again through a lack of vigilance that may be understandable in the situation but which still does not argue in his favor.

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Read the previous entry in the series here.
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Following a set of instructions from one of the Servants that touches on their designs, “The Taking of Bee” begins with Bee returning to self-awareness and awareness of her situation after her seeming ensorcellment. She assesses herself and her surroundings, and considers the attack on Withywoods and its effects. Watching others under seeming domination, she purposes to remain as secret as she can, considering her captors and the nascent dissension among them. Seeing what appears to be a chance to escape, she sets out again, only to find herself stymied by the powers of her captors–especially Vindeliar, who is the source of the ensorcellment at work.

Bee watches as Shun begins to be assailed, the voice of Wolf-Father sounding in her mind as she does. Preparations for departure are made, and Shun fights against her prospective assailant, and Bee announces herself to interdict retribution against Shun. Her announcement has the desired effect, revealing her to be of particular value to her captors: Kardef, Kindrel, Soula, Reppin, Alaria, the aforementioned Vindeliar, and Lingstra Dwalia. Shun is ordered tended to and protected, and some discussion ensues about her fate that Dwalia quashes. Bee is taken, and she considers both the lack of response from the people of Withywoods and her separation from them and her father. As they leave, however, Bee notes Perseverance, watching clandestinely.

I note with some interest that one of the characters depicted in the present chapter is Ellik, whose depredations are known. As ever, I do appreciate gestures to show that a unified milieu is, in fact, unified. I also appreciate seeing Ellik reduced, although it is not quite as much as would satisfy; although he is not Chancellor of Chalced, and although he seems to have had to hire himself out, he yet remains in command of others. How he managed to escape the wrack of Chalced and the fall of Andronicus is not clear, although it is not implausible that he would do so; I do not recall as I reread the present chapter that his death was depicted, so…

I note, too, that the present chapter does a fair bit of additional exposition, both showing that the Servants have magics other than the prophecies of the White Prophets available to them–something like the Skill, perhaps, if not actually that magic (consider the Pale Woman)–and giving quite a few names to follow. The former reinforces the danger that the Servants present; the latter, while presenting a challenge to some readers in introducing a number of characters in rapid sequence, does offer more possibilities for narration. Each character, after all, allows for another set of interactions, and it is in interactions that stories inhere. Further, since it’s early in the text, there is plenty of time to learn the characters better–or to watch them die; it is, after all, a novel by Hobb, and she’s not exactly averse to introducing characters only to kill them off…

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