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Following a markedly acerbic message from Ronica Vestrit to the Cassarick bird-keeper, “Dragon Blood” begins with Ellik presenting the captive Selden to the Duke of Chalced, who comments dimly on Selden’s appearance. The situation of those present is described in detail, and Selden is abused once again before he identifies himself and what had been his intended purpose. Selden also lays out the betrayal that led him to his current situation, and he notes that he might well be ransomed. The Duke refuses, however, citing his seemingly draconic nature as a reason to keep him. Selden notes his heritage and is again abused. The Duke considers his options and the effects that having eaten of Selden had had upon him, and he determines to have Chassim tend to him. The Duke contemplates further, finding himself reasonably pleased.

Elsewhere, Tintaglia approaches Trehaug, happily anticipating being served by Malta, Reyn, and Selden. Arriving, she summons the three, occasioning panic among the Rain Wilders present. At length, Jani Khuprus addresses the dragon, confirming that Malta and Reyn are gone and resisting Tintaglia’s attempts at ensorcelling her. Others react poorly to the presence of the dragon in their midst, and, after some upset, Tintaglia is sent on towards Kelsingra, the location of which is known to her.

Aboard the Tarman, Leftrin eagerly anticipates arriving at Kelsingra as he and his crew and passengers approach it. Reyn starts at the sight of the outskirts, and the pair of them marvel to see so many dragons aloft as they do. Others aboard join them in the joy of the sight, and Leftrin is put ill at ease by the sudden interest of Spit in the liveship. He does consider, however, the pursuit that yet follows, and he watches with equanimity as the pursuing ship presumes to fire upon Spit. The dragons begin to harass the vessel before falling into a game of their own, and Lefrtin and Hennessey confer about the changes to them.

I find myself taken by Ronica’s message. I know biographical criticism is always problematic. I know, too, that affective reading is at least as problematic. I cannot help but be put in mind of a number of more experienced women I’ve known, however, and I cannot help but think that something of the author’s own annoyance at some delivery person or another bleeds over into the text. (Given the publication date of the novel, 2013, I find myself wondering if something like this was at work for Hobb as it had been for me.) Certainly, it rings of authentic experience to me, the lived real, and that is a helpful grounding in a book that makes much of flying, acid-spitting metamorphic reptiles and those they usefully and decoratively mutate for their own ends.

The cold conniving at work in Chalced also strikes me. Again, given the times involved in publication, I have to wonder if Hobb is responding in some ways to Martin and his swelling popularity, Game of Thrones being on screens and all. Admittedly, Hobb’s characters were prone to plotting ere ever Benioff and Weiss got going on the show (about which more here), with Shrewd, Chade, and Regal doing more than their shares of such in the Farseer novels, and none of it is particularly savory. Still, Shrewd and Chade at least presented themselves as acting in the interests of the realm rather than themselves, with Chade being somewhat belligerent on that score; reprehensible as no small part of what the elder Farseer half-brothers plotted was, it was not about them. And, reprehensible as no small part of what the elder Farseer half-brothers plotted was, it was not cannibalism.

Neither is the case with the Duke of Chalced. I believe I’ve commented on the almost cartoonish villainy in play with him, almost as if he joins Mumm-Ra in pleading directly with ancient spirits of evil. He is clearly The Bad Guy here, and he seems worse, somehow, than the Pale Woman of the Tawny Man novels; she, at least, had some vision to attempt to enact, and one not entirely unsympathetic, although the means used to attempt the ends are foul. The Duke, though, appears only to serve himself, and if a reader can feel pity for a person beset by age and illness, it is far harder to incline towards a slaver who will feast upon the flesh of the still-living.

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Read the previous entry in the series here.
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Following a charged clandestine message to Trader Finbok, “Taking the Leap” opens with Sedric and Carson urging their dragons along towards an old road. The dragons complain along the way, with Spit (the dragon Carson tends) taunting Relpda at some length. Carson is able to persuade Spit down, Sedric following more slowly, and to some merriment. Relpda, however, is incensed and startles all present by leaping into the air and flying unaided. Her performance inspires the other dragons, led by Spit, and the assembled keepers exult in seeing their dragons aloft as they ought always to have been. Sedric is initially afraid for Relpda as Spit pursues her, but Carson informs him that Spit but makes a mating attempt.

Elsewhere, Hest is surprised to find himself enjoying Cassarick. He is also able to ferret out a fair amount of gossip regarding the Tarman and Leftrin’s sudden departure. Satisfied that Redding has had enough time to accomplish his errands, Hest makes to return to his lodgings, only to find his assailant awaiting him. The assailant rebukes Hest for his deviation from orders and coldly informs him that Redding is dead, and he puts Hest to yet more grisly tasks as he lays out his own personal stakes in his errands.

I note with some interest the present chapter’s motion toward the urban / rural divide. Admittedly, in such societies as the Realm of the Elderlings novels present, there is less sharp a distinction between the two; the cities that are shown tend to be port cities of one sort or another and closely linked therefore to their agricultural and similar surroundings, rather than towering metropoles that can seemingly ignore the work of farmers and others in the surrounding lands. Jamaillia is perhaps the closest to a modern metropole yet shown, and even its overbuilt presence differs substantially from contemporary conceptions of what the city is or ought to be. Even so, in the early United States to which I see Bingtown and the Rain Wilds as most akin, there was a distinction between life in cities and that away from them, and not only in terms of access to information and materials (although certainly in them), and that distinction seems to be in place in the present chapter–if with something of a twist.

Like many, Hobb presents the rural as superior to the urban in the present chapter; Sedric’s city life is a hindrance to his understanding, here, while Carson’s rural expertise enables him to be more effective and insightful. So much is a commonplace. The twist comes in the variation on moralizing that often accompanies the presentation of the urban / rural divide and the privileging of the latter. In most cases, the rural is presented as morally purer than the urban, adhering more closely to “traditional” norms of civility and continence. (Yes, in real-life cases, this does tend to align with conservative ideologies in terms of “what ought to be,” and it is an ideal which many rural communities fail to attain, even if they do not openly discuss it outside themselves. It also tends to be racially coded, with non-dominant populations being ascribed “immoral” practices. That so much presents problems is hopefully obvious.) Yet here, it seems that the rural life Carson represents is more tolerant and accepting, if not outright celebratory, of relationships than is the urban life Sedric represents. In Bingtown, Sedric must conceal who he is; in the Rain Wilds, he is under no such obligation.

Does this mean Kelsingra is an incipient Utopia? Perhaps; I do not have More’s work in front of me to make the comparison. But it is a prospect, and I would love to see if someone else has done the reading to find out.

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After a message heralding rewards for information about Alise or Sedric and comments from Reyall to Detozi about new security measures on bird-borne messages, “Opening Negotiations” begins with Hest and his current companion, Redding, together in Cassarick, Hest musing aspersively on the available lodgings. Hest reflects on the businesses that bring him to the remote Rain Wild city and upon his own role in those dealings. He chafes at his traveling companion and rehearses the news that he has been able to glean thus far before dismissing Redding and settling in to wait for an expected meeting. As Redding pries, Hest distracts him with selected truths about his intentions and business entanglements, and he purposes to send him onward in his own place.

Aboard the Tarman, Leftrin sights a dragon, informing him that he approaches Kelsingra. That the dragons have begun to fly pleases him, and as Reyn agitates for haste, Leftrin calms him. He is put ill at ease by signs of pursuit, however, and considers both the implications of that pursuit and the signs of dragons’ presence.

Also aboard the Tarman, Reyn and Malta confer about their son, whose progress and development are described. Reyn urges Malta to care for herself, and they talk together about the area of Kelsingra. Tillamon, emerging quietly, echoes Reyn’s suggestions to her sister-in-law and offers to watch Phron while his parents refresh themselves. The couple note Tillamon’s happiness, and she notes that it comes from her budding relationship with Hennesey, and Malta calms Reyn’s reaction to the same.

As I reread the present chapter this time around, it occurs to me that the novel is still in its expositional phase, presenting materials to help orient readers who join the Elderlings corpus at this point rather than at any previous point in it. While it is the case that such entry does not make for an ideal reading experience, it is also the case that such entries continue to happen. In my own professional life, I am asked to do write-ups of books in series when I’ve not read the previous volumes (and I remain available to do such work for you; see below). It’s sometimes a challenge to do so, of course; series are written with an eye toward readers being broadly familiar with what has happened in earlier-set volumes. But even aside from professional concerns such as mine, with clients asking for book 2 of 3 or 3 of 5, sometimes readers stumble into series later in them, finding a later volume in a second-hand bookstore and having to back-fill. It’s easier now, perhaps, than in my youth, but it still happens, and it’s still to a novel’s credit that it works to ease such readers into their narratives.

I have to note, too, the classist commentary in the final section of the chapter. Being an older brother, I can sympathize to some degree with Reyn’s protectiveness. As I write this, my brother is 35 (I’m 40), and I still feel the call to step in on his behalf. The thing is, I don’t answer it anymore; he’s a grown man, and I’ve long known it. Reyn’s not in a position not to know his sister’s an adult and capable–and he’s got more than enough to worry about with Phron. Too, Malta has things right; the focus of Tillamon’s affection is gainfully employed in a trade not likely to see decline in his lifetime, and there are far worse things than to take up with someone who works a physical job for a living.

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