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

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The following chapter, “Bingtown Negotiations,” starts with Ronica looking over the remains of the old Traders’ Concourse as the people of Bingtown gather together. She notes, too, that the people assembled are strangely equal, affected alike by war and grief. Notably, Serilla, Caern, Kelter, and members of the Traders’ Council are in attendance, as are representatives of the Tattooed, the Khupruses, Mingsley, and Selden; the last claims to be present to intercede between Bingtown and Tintaglia, and he reports on her current status. Keffria regards her son strangely, taken aback by the changes to him.

The assembly begins to confer, fractiously at first, spurred by Caern. Serilla unceremoniously rejects him and attempts to assert authority; the rejection is upheld but the authority rejected, in part by the Tattooed. Jani speaks in favor of the position outlined by the Tattooed, as well. And Tintaglia arrives, announcing her presence decisively and berating the people gathered together. Selden again intercedes, diverting what seems promised retribution, and Ronica senses the political realignments at work. Tintaglia again reiterates her command that the folk of Bingtown help her save dragonkind, noting the means to do so; negotiations regarding how best to do the work required ensue, and a tentative accord is in place when Keffria interjects regarding Malta. Reyn rushes to her aid, and Tintaglia rages–but does not attack, physically. Reyn is, however, pulled into her psychic power, where he is shown Malta. But even that revelation does not bind him to her will; negotiations continue, and it is averred that all who seek to remain in Bingtown and the Rain Wilds will agree to the arrangement and to the governance of the Bingtown Council, which is opened to new elections from among all the groups present.

Bingtown appears to be on the rise from the nadir of the previous chapter, with new beginnings and what seems to be a more stable, inclusive form of government in the offering. I am reminded again of parallels to the stories about the emergence of the United States (stories, I emphasize; I know that the histories are not so happy or fortunate, and that current events continue not to be so), and I do note that Hobb’s parallel is more open than even those happy tales. Women and minority populations are explicitly and specifically included, and those who had been enslaved are afforded equal status in the emerging system, with slavery being prohibited in both its chattel and indentureship forms. It is refreshing to read a piece of historicist fiction–that is, one that borrows from historical details without pretending to accurately represent bits of history–that does not laud the prejudices of the past and overtly reinscribe them, but instead offers a view of how things can be better.

It would be nice if more people would work towards such things.

Relocation’s not done yet; more help is appreciated!

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

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The next chapter, “Tintaglia’s Bargain,” begins with Reyn waking where he has bedded down in the Tenira household alongside Grag and Selden. He muses on recent events, both the burgeoning new Bingtown and the holdovers of the older system and their interpenetration by Roed and Serilla. Caern’s bloodlust poisoned initial attempts at rapprochement as Chalcedeans attacked some days past, and the Chalcedeans seized the Kendry, the harbor, and many captives to enslave. Grag rouses, and the two confer about what can be done and what should be done. Selden also rouses and declares his intention to proceed with the other two to the fight that they all know is coming, and they find that matters are already in motion as they take what they recognize may be a final meal together.

Elsewhere, Tintaglia fumes at her reception at Trehaug; it was unkind even by human standards, and dragons tend to assume that they deserve veneration. But as she flies forth, searching for Reyn or Malta, she comes under attack from ships in Bingtown’s harbor; she responds in kind and is surprised to hear Selden singing her praises. She alights, and Reyn steps out to confront her despite the fatigue of his fighting. Tintaglia realizes his fey mood is prompted by his belief that Malta is dead; she says to him that Malta lives and bids him and those with him to work to save dragonkind. She also repels a sneak attack from Chalcedeans in the town before reiterating her demand; Selden interposes and sways her with honeyed words to clear the harbor of the Chalcedean threat. As Bingtown begins to rally, Reyn confronts the changes occurring in Selden.

There is an interesting echo of Tolkien in the first section of the chapter; Jani Khuprus and Nana Tenira both appear ready to go out and fight, with the latter remarking that she is of more account than simply to feed her son and send him out to die in a comment that calls to mind Éowyn’s remarks in The Lord of the Rings. Given Éowyn’s efficacy in the Battle of the Pelennor, it is possible there is some quiet foreshadowing at work, here; Hobb is certainly aware enough of Tolkien to have echoed the comment deliberately, and even if it is not deliberate, it is not to be wondered at that an author shows her reading.

In terms of narrative structure, the present chapter is close to the middle of the book; it is therefore to be expected that the climax for which Freytag calls or the turning point outlined in Frye’s models would be in the present chapter or soon enough. And Bingtown does seem to have reached something of a nadir as the chapter begins; it is in disarray, its holdings looted and burned, its people divided and being taken into slavery. Matters appear to improve somewhat by the end of the chapter, with Tintaglia turning to the aid of Bingtown, but Reyn is wary of the influence of and interference by the dragon. Given how the dragon acts–and fights–and the traditional associations of dragons in the English-speaking world, there is some question about whether Bingtown has made the proverbial “deal with the devil,” the more so as those who treat most closely with Tintaglia bear the mark of it upon them…

We’re relocating; can we get some help?

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

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The following chapter, “Serpent Ship,” opens with the white serpent–who insists on being called Carrion–accosting Maulkin and the other serpents in his tangle. Carrion tries to get himself killed, repeatedly, and Sessurea is only barely discouraged from obliging him by Maulkin noting the scent of She Who Remembers in the water. They proceed towards the smell, finding sound that echoes it and rushing off to heed the call to recall.

She Who Remembers frets briefly as she rushes to meet the serpents, Bolt lagging behind. Maulkin greets her, and the two enter a communion that gives Maulkin back his full memory, and the memories spread to the other serpents. From the deck of the Vivacia, Kennit watches in amazement as the serpents churn and commune, and Bolt reiterates her demand to him, to which he agrees readily.

Elsewhere aboard the ship, Etta presses Wintrow as the young man considers his place and purpose. He voices his uncertainty to her, and she prods him to learn more–navigation, for one, and a return to his priesthood. They converse about the matter, and both realize that both have placed their faith in Kennit and not themselves–and that it should be in the latter. He slips into a strange meditation as he considers her words, and she quietly departs.

In the water, She Who Remembers considers Bolt and Wintrow with some confusion and trepidation. Maulkin joins her and notes his own suspicions, and they observe as Wintrow confronts the ship. It assails him, but the violence against him only spills his blood upon her wizardwood planks, where it soaks in and enhances the intertwined connection he has perceived within him and among them.

Once again, I find myself reading with affect as I read the passage wherein Wintrow considers that he cannot return to the priesthood that he had thought once and for years was his calling. I am in a similar place, having been obliged to exit the ivory tower in whose basements I long labored, hoping for a chance for a room of my own within it. I do well enough in my life outside it, of course, and I recognize that it has no real place for me within, but I still labored long to dwell within it, and that work cannot be undertaken without it doing much to the worker’s heart, in turn. I have not plied such waves as Hobb relates Wintrow has, nor are my scars as deep or extensive, but my currents have carried me far away, and my skin is far from smooth anymore, and I know not how to chart a course back to were I was before.

Can you spare a dime?

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

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The next chapter, “Divvytown,” begins with Brashen considering the approach to the titular settlement from the deck of the Paragon, musing over changes to the place since he was there previously. He confers with Althea on the matter, and they determine to proceed with the sunrise. The ship puts in, surprising them all with knowledge of the local waters, and, when Brashen asks, the ship agrees to guide them into Divvytown on the spot. As the ship does so, the Paragon considers the approach and is startled by Amber waxing poetic on their progress through the night. The ship reflects with some trepidation on Amber’s words and considers those exchanged between Brashen and Lavoy to the aft.

The Paragon puts in stealthily at Divvytown, and Brashen summons Althea to him after sending the rest of the crew, save a small watch, below deck. They confer, more about their romance than about the work at hand, as they survey the town and plot their landing party. Amber and Clef are excluded, as are Lavoy and Artu; Jek and a handful of others are to be brought along, and Lop left with orders to get Clef ashore if there’s trouble. The landing proceeds, with Brashen issuing and affirming orders to his selected crew, adopting a braggadocio act when confronted by local authorities appointed during the town’s reconstruction; he successfully plies the locals as Althea turns over what they learn in her head and reluctantly reassesses the possible situation with the Vivacia–as well as Kennit. The news from Bingtown takes her aback, as well.

After the local authorities approve of them, Brashen has his landing party disperse to gather information and gives orders to take on provisions. He also confers with Althea as the two of them surveil the town’s streets together. She is taken by the image of what could be that she sees reflected in windowglass as they do. And as she learns of her brother-in-law’s fate, she sorrows for the crew lost and for her sister–but not for the man, himself.

At the dock, Paragon muses over the oddities of time and his blood-borne connection to Kennit until disturbed by a gig from the town, one person aboard which identifies the ship as having been Igrot’s. The assertion upsets the ship, and the noise of the upset reaches Brashen and Althea in the town. They hasten towards the ship and are greeted by Clef, Jek, and all but two of the other landing party members; they return to the ship, where Lavoy confronts Brashen and assails him before leaping overboard–and a number of crew join him as the Paragon flees Divvytown under full sail.

This is not the first chapter of a Liveship Traders book to be titled “Divvytown.” The one that is, here, and the changes from the earliest appearance to the present chapter are marked. Kennit has clearly made an impact upon the place, and, as Althea is reluctantly obliged to consider, not all of it is for ill. Indeed, much of it is for good, in itself. That does not elide the ill Kennit has done and is yet doing–the chapter presents itself as contemporaneous with the trip to take Wintrow to Others Island, giving a sense of how the component parts of the novel fit together–and it is good to remember that it is too much to expect that the extraordinary will only be so in one direction. Then again, working to erect what amounts to a nation demands a certain degree of hubris; there are presumption and arrogance inherent in the notion that one person’s ideas are good enough to rule others by. Too, it is long known that a certain ruthless pragmatism is required in a great many endeavors.

I am reminded, however, that manure is often used to fertilize, and plants that bear good fruit grow well from having shit at their roots.

Your help to keep this site going would still be welcome.

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

A content warning is likely in order.

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The chapter that follows, “Surviving,” begins with Keffria and Selden talking on the deck of the Kendry as the liveship approaches Bingtown. The harbor is desolated, the ruined hulks of ships visible in the water and the lingering damage to the town visible, as well. Keffira frets for her family, the fates of most of whom are uncertain to her.

Reyn and Jani are also aboard the Kendry, and they confer about their own mission to beseech aid as they approach the injured town. Trehaug is in dire economic straits, the earthquake having rendered the retrieval of Elderling artifacts impossible, and the extinction of the Rain Wild Traders looms. Keffria invites the Khupruses to lodge with her, which offer they accept, and Grag Tenira arrives to spirit the group away under cover–and to the waiting Ronica.

Aboard the Chalcedean ship, the Satrap whines; at Kekki’s insistence, Malta offers some gentle advice and comfort, musing on their unpleasant situation and tending to the Companion as best she can. The value of Kekki’s advice is made clear as Malta rehearses an assault upon her. The Satrap continues to treat her as a servant, and Malta is accosted again; she falls, opening a wound she has been considering for some time. As she makes to bind it, she realizes that Kekki has died as the Chalcedeans hail another ship.

In Bingtown, Serilla takes lunch and considers her worsening situation. Roed Caern grows increasingly cruel and paranoid as many sets of machinations unfold; she wonders how to place herself among them in the wake of a message from Mingsley. She also considers Ronica, musing on the older woman’s wisdom.

Grag and Reyn confer as the latter makes ready to join a gathering. They exchange tidings, including Reyn’s certainty that Malta is dead. Similarly, Ronica affirms herself to Keffria and reminds her that she, not Ronica, is the Vestrit Trader. And at the gathering, Keffria takes her rightful place, despite her pain and loss. News is exchanged and counsel taken for how to proceed; the potential for a break from Jamaillia and a new system of rule for Bingtown is discussed, and Reyn, at Selden’s prompting, begins to explicate some of the longer history of Bingtown and the Rain Wilds.

I am again taken by the similarity between events unfolding in Bingtown and what I remember being taught and reading later about concerns surrounding the Revolutionary War. (I am aware that what I was taught was markedly jingoistic in addition to being simplified for consumption by children. The latter is excusable, even perhaps necessary; the former is not. And, recall, I grew up in small-town Texas–for good and ill.) I’ve noted that in other work–and I’ll get to that work, worry not–Hobb makes much use of early US history to inform her fictional milieu; I haven’t done the reading to the extent that I should (yet) to confirm it, but it does not stretch credulity to think that Hobb is doing much the same thing in the Liveship Traders novels that she does in the Soldier Son series. And she seems to be offering some corrections, being explicit in the incorporation of women in the proposed renewed Bingtown as equals–formally and legally, not just conventionally–and noting usefully that “A manner of speaking becomes a manner of thinking.”

Indeed, that comment is more true than many people want to believe. I don’t necessarily fully subscribe to Sapir-Whorf, but it is an idea that merits more thought than most afford it.

I can always use your support.

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

A content warning may well be in order.

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The succeeding chapter, “Alliances,” begins with Brashen conferring with the Paragon, trying to elicit some reaction from the figurehead as the sentence of isolation relaxes. The ship tries to wound the captain with words, but fails; Brashen’s melancholy has already cut him. They reach an uneasy detente of sorts, though it seems to satisfy neither ship nor captain.

Elsewhere, Tintaglia soars about the waves, considering her situation, the need to find the last young of her species, and the changes to the geography from what she recalls in her ancestral memories. She muses with disgust on humanity before encountering a serpent that has gone almost completely feral, trapped in a backwater and raging at her as she tries to aid it. Her efforts are of no avail, and she performs a final mercy on the serpent, tasting the lingering despair of his existence as she does so. Departing, she begins to consider how humanity might be brought to the dragons’ aid.

Aboard the Paragon, Lavoy reports to Brashen. The captain issues a series of directives to the mate, most of which are not to the latter’s liking. After dismissing Lavoy, Brashen considers the coming conflict with Althea with trepidation and longing.

For her part, Althea manages her watch and muses on her situation with Brashen. She muses over the crew assigned to her, assessing their strengths and weaknesses evenly, and Brashen informs her of the imminent rescinding of the isolation order for the Paragon. Althea accepts the order and considers its likely impact on the sullen Amber before her thoughts turn toward the Vivacia and the plan to retake her. When Brashen issues his orders, including the change in watch-crews, Althea seethes but holds her peace; she seethes more when, as she comes off watch, Clef conveys a summons to the captain’s quarters.

Althea reports as ordered, and Brashen invites her to voice her complaints to him. After a bit of prodding, she does so, somewhat vehemently. Her complaint–that he had shamed her by ordering her back from battle–provokes an unexpected apology that shifts into an anguished declaration of love from Brashen. That, in turn, moves into an assignation that leaves Althea feeling nearly fulfilled.

On the foredeck, Amber confers with the ship, trying to explain the finality of death. The ship is aware of and confused by what Brashen and Althea do in the captain’s cabin, however, and is distracted from the conversation thereby.

I am aware that, as a reader, I am supposed to be in favor of Althea and Brashen re/beginning a romantic relationship. Certainly, the novels have thrust the two of them together repeatedly and given them opportunities to fall in and out and in again. But I cannot help but read the encounter between them in the current chapter as some combination of contrived–it’s a novel; of course it is–and harassive. Brashen is the captain of the Paragon; Althea is second mate and therefore under his direct command as an officer in the ship’s complement. She is not in a position to be able to refuse his advances, really, and a diminished capacity to refuse them necessarily makes for questions about their acceptance. Certainly, were I to act so in my leadership role, I would (potentially) provoke harassment proceedings; the lack of an analogous legal recourse within the milieu of the novel does not mean the act is less–questionable? Reprehensible? Illicit? Immoral? Wrong? I am not sure what word applies here, really, but I am sure that the passage in question is…uncomfortable reading, even for me. How it would strike people more directly touched by such acts in their own lives, I am not sure I am equipped to consider.

Care to lend a hand?

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

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The chapter that follows, “Bodies and Souls,” begins with Wintrow considering his convalescence as he hobbles across the deck of the Vivacia towards the figurehead. There, he confers with the ship, confronting the dragon-personality that has ascended to the fore, and a tense exchange between the two ensues. Wintrow realizes his mind and heart are divided, and he he skeptical of the dragon’s desire to have him leave the ship. Etta joins the conversation, but matters do not ease, despite the dragon-personality’s flattering. She seeks to confront the dragon-personality in her turn, and Wintrow is dismissed–with a clear warning.

After Wintrow retires from the foredeck, the dragon and Etta have their talk; Etta knows the personality she faces is not that the ship had had. The dragon-personality names itself Bolt to her, explaining it and remarking that she will not share her true name. As Etta considers, Bolt urges her to remove her wizardwood charm and take control of her reproductive rights, noting the effective inability of males–dragon or human–to properly regard them. Etta complies, and Bolt eats the charm, rendering the decision irreversible.

The serpent Shreever considers the increasingly large group of serpents that has gathered around Maulkin. Sessurea joins her briefly before scenting something and thrashing about to uncover the form of a fallen dragon, one of many in a place that once stood above the waves but has sunk beneath them. Maulkin seeks to rally the serpents once again, but is challenged by a white serpent who reports having conferred with and fled from She Who Remembers; Mauklin subdues the challenger and commands that he take them back to She Who Remembers.

Kennit regards himself and his situation as he makes to confer with Bolt again. Etta reports some of what she has learned to him, and Kennit is skeptical of her changed attitude–and that of his crew–as he strides to the foredeck to speak with the ship. After an enigmatic conversation, Kennit agrees to the terms Bolt has laid out for him; she will permit herself to be sailed by him and will help him to pirate well, and she will receive her due in return. At her urging, Kennit calls on Wintrow and appears to heal his scars; the act fatigues both of them greatly, and when Kennit wakes later, he marvels to find himself happy–and more to find Bolt singing to serpents that rise from the sea.

Bolt’s comments–and how helpful to have a name!–to Etta regarding childbearing are telling, I think. Certainly, “debates” in the United States regarding reproductive rights and choices were ongoing as the novel was brought to publication (the scare quotes are because there should not be a debate; medical decisions are the patient’s to make, or the proxy assigned by the patient, period), and putting comments affirming reproductive rights in the mouth of an antagonistic character–not an antagonist as such, but certainly not a friend–puts the novel in an ambiguous position among them. Bolt, after all, is in some opposition to characters the reader is encouraged to support, but those characters are not necessarily “good,” not necessarily to be emulated; it defies an easy assignment of support or denial of the position. At the same time, Bolt argues against the particular form of contraception and prophylactic Etta employs; again, the commentary is made ambiguous by being placed in the mouth of a morally ambivalent character–and one that decidedly hails from an older time (as well as another species). And there is the problem of the comments essentializing women to their reproductive capabilities–perhaps less overt an issue as the novel reached publication but certainly one that demands attention for a later rereading.

I could still use, and will continue to appreciate, your kind contributions.