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

---

A proposal for exploiting prophetic foreknowledge precedes “Bribes,” which opens with Bee waking to breakfast in her imprisonment. Disoriented, she takes a moment to collect herself and asks for wash-water, only to be denied. Prilkop explains, and the Four enter, described once again as Capra takes Bee from her cell. Bee follows her past cells and into the stronghold of Clerres, coming to a room where Bee is instructed to bathe.

Bee does as bidden, assessing her physical state. As she dresses, she keeps with her a candle Molly had made, about which Capra asks her; at the questioning, Bee sees possibilities emerge, but she is soon obliged to follow Capra again through more of the stronghold. As they proceed, Capra explains what they pass by, noting a core library of texts and how they are used in Clerres to effect.

The pair continue on, and Bee begins to formulate a plan for how she will go on. Capra lays out possibilities for Bee to consider, and she takes her to dine privately. Bee puts forward her best possible presentation while concealing as much of her deeper self as she can, deflecting questions about deeper truths. Coached along by Wolf-Father, Bee has some success in it, partly by divulging information that belied Dwalia‘s earlier comments. The success is only partial, however, and she soon finds herself being recorded in detail.

Bee considers the scribe brought in to attend upon her, Nopet, and begins to make her report. In doing so, she gives more detail than she intends, and Wolf-Father continues to coach her. But it proves well for her that she does, because her accounts are confirmed by other sources, and as the Four begin to argue, Capra takes Bee back to her imprisonment next to Prilkop. Capra ubpraids the other three again, and Bee is left confined to consider what will happen next.

The present chapter, in Capra questioning Bee at the table about Fitz and the Fool, offers a reminder about the Six Duchies’ predilection towards emblematic names, something long asserted in the Realm of the Elderlings novels. (Indeed, the opening prefatory materials that begin the whole corpus make mention of it; readers learn the practice before they learn the narrator’s name in the text.) Originally an issue of royal and noble names, the practice seems to spread beyond those confines; one example is Perseverance, who does seem to keep going when he probably ought not to do so, and Spark/Ash presents another, paired, example of the same. (I am suddenly put in mind of something of a backhanded chain of jokes as regards Spark; her presence seems to kindle Lant[ern? I know it’s not, but it’s close enough for the evocation], much as he had been infatuated with Shine and fairly glowed in her company before the revelation of their close kinship. I motion towards the latter in earlier comments, but the former only now occurs to me, I think. It’s probably not a mark in my favor, although it is something that bespeaks the value of rereadings; more details emerge each time, deepening understanding and appreciation–at least for me.)

The present chapter also speaks to what I’ve noted is a recurring theme in Hobb’s work: the primacy of writing. As I’ve commented before, it’s not a surprise that a writer would espouse such themes; making money from writing requires that people believe in the value of writing, after all. I find, however, that in the present-of-this-writing, there is a connection between the accumulated knowledge of untold but implied-to-be vast time-spans of prophecies (and the subsequent reports that bear out their correctness) and the information economy that was certainly in place as the novel was composed and initially released. Again, the novel dates to 2017; social media, with its information-harvesting and predictive algorithms targeted at the acquisition of money, was already very much in place. The idea of reading Clerres as a fantasy take on science-fiction dystopiæ tantalizes, suggesting itself as yet another scholarly someday worth investigating.

I seem to continue to collect such things. I hope to be able to address at least some of them.

The young year invites new writing; fill out the form below to get yours started!

Or you can send your support along directly!

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

---

Another account of a particular prophecy precedes “Hand and Foot,” which opens with harsh conversation among the Four as Bee listens, considering her situation before she is taken away. The advice to “Never do that which you can’t undo, until you’ve perceived what you can’t do once you’ve done it” (476) is voiced again, and Capra takes charge of matters, explaining why she does so.

Bee is locked in a cell again, her progress to that point described. As the Four lock her away, Prilkop, who is also locked away there, speaks to them challengingly but receives no response. After they depart, Bee sees to herself as she can and weeps. Prilkop speaks to her, then, and she passes a sorrowful night.

The next morning, Prilkop again attempts conversation with Bee, and she relates a version of her story to him. Prilkop answers her story with his understanding of surrounding events, as well as the utterly unforeseen continuation of Fitz and the Fool in the world after the former’s death and resurrection. Prilkop acknowledges that Bee’s arrival portends a massive upheaval, and he lapses into silence.

That Hobb once again makes fairly explicit reference in the present chapter to events in previous chapters is once again something I appreciate about her writing. That there is such call-back in a series of novels that makes much of prognostication helps to make things foreshadowing across decades of work (Assassin’s Apprentice was published in 1996; Assassin’s Fate in 2017, more than twenty years later), something that strikes me as being entirely thematically appropriate.

(I acknowledge that I’ve not done enough in this rereading series to connect themes across chapters and works. Part of the problem of working on it across years and with less focus than a more formal academic treatment–which is the kind of treatment that would bear out such connections–would expect is that I don’t always remember from session to session of work on the project what all I’ve done. Too, I’ve realized as I’ve gotten further and further into the thing, as I’ve refined my approach and expanded on my work, that I’ve not been as consistent or as detailed in indexing as I probably ought to have been. I have ideas about what to do, but whether I will ever have the time to enact them is an open question.)

There are some tantalizing things that come up for me as I reread the chapter. Prilkop’s long history is something hinted at across novels, its exceptional length being teased but not necessarily confirmed (I am not alone, I find, in wondering if Prilkop had once been called Hoquin, mentioned here, here, and here); whether Hobb will ever take up a project of expounding on that history, I would not venture to say, although I’d definitely read it. Similarly, the other captives held alongside Bee and Prilkop–five others, by Bee’s reckoning (483)–must have some stories of their own to have merited the special incarceration afforded them. And there are any number of other stories that could be told.

Alas, that there is not enough time for them all!

Start the new year with new writing to inspire; fill out the form below to get yours started!

Or you can send your support along directly!

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

Note that the present chapter contains a scene of torture and the commentary therefore discusses it.

---

An account of a particular prophecy precedes “Clerres,” which opens with Bee considering her approach to the titular place. The city and its environs are described as she, captive, approaches it, and she muses on her situation and the changes it is making within her. She begins to harden her heart against her situation, and she makes preparations with Dwalia and Vindeliar to disembark the ship that has carried them.

The three head through the city into the stronghold of the Servants, and Bee takes in her surroundings, noting the people she passes. Dwalia’s attitude changes as they approach, growing haughty as they come to the stronghold’s entrance and are, after some discussion, admitted. Bee recognizes her surroundings from dreams recalled, and the three find themselves held aside until they are summoned by the Four, who lead the Servants.

The Four are described as Bee sees them, and they demand a report of Dwalia, from which Bee manages to piece together much. What Dwalia gives is unsatisfactory, and after division among the Four is observed, she is punished for it. Bee considers the punishment and why neither she nor Dwalia had foreseen the eventuality. And Bee alone marks the words Dwalia says after her punishment: “Your turn now” (474).

That the novel hastens toward its end is clear with the present chapter, in which one deuteragonist arrives at the foretold destination. The descriptions provided offer useful exposition, and I’m sure there’s another one of my many scholarly somedays to be found in reading the color-coding of the Four for insights; one thing that springs to mind swiftly for me, despite my assertion that Hobb moves away from the Tolkienian tradition in many ways, is a distorted echo of the Istari in the Legendarium, the five color-coded wizards. I am sure there are other interpretations to find in such descriptions, as well.

The passage in which Dwalia is flagellated at the whim of the Four is of interest, less because of the violence itself (although I do note that torture is something of a regular occurrence in Hobb’s work; I will eventually deal with “The Triumph” in my rereading, which offers one of the more extended examples) than because of the way in which it is prescribed. Each of the Four almost casually asserts a number of lashes to be administered to Dwalia, offering in a matter-of-fact way a punishment that could well prove fatal. The blithe disregard for possible fatality is telling. The easy assignment of a heavily-coded-for-US-readers punishment–whipping is particularly associated with chattel slavery in the US–also works to reinforce the evilness of Clerres, something already asserted in the novel and here made clearly not an exaggeration for effect on the part of the characters who have offered as much.

I remain uncertain how I feel about the matter. That it is as bad as it sounded like it would be seems at odds with much of the rest of what Hobb does, even as it does make sense in context (and, admittedly, aligns more fully with prevailing expectations; people want a clear “bad guy,” even if the “good guy” doesn’t always have to be really good). So it sits…strangely with me. But that’s not a bad thing for a book to do, admittedly, or even a single chapter in one.

Scant days remain, but there may still be time to get your bespoke writing for the holidays!

Or you can send your support along directly!

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

---

An excerpt from Bee’s journals precedes “The Butterfly Cloak,” which begins with Fitz ruminating on long ocean voyages, not entirely happily, as the Paragon proceeds towards Clerres, passing beyond what reliable charts the ship and crew have. The progress of the vessel and matters among the crew are glossed, and Fitz considers the value of boredom.

At one point, Lant approaches Fitz to note his concerns about Kennitsson’s interest in Spark. The pair confer, Fitz suggesting to Lant that he leave matters be until and unless he is asked to intervene, and Lant begrudgingly accedes. Fitz finds himself musing on his own history as he considers whether or not he should intervene, himself, and decides against it. He does, however, confer with the ship about it when the figurehead summons him to talk, and he finds himself subjected to the memories of trauma and abuse that the ship has taken in and held for others. How Igrot and his crew died is attested, as is more of what befell Paragon before the ship’s return to Bingtown.

Kennitsson joins the conversation, distracting the Paragon into discussion of the plan to return to draconic form, and Fitz absents himself. Returning to his cabin, he encounters the Fool, and the two move towards reconciliation over their earlier anger towards one another. The Fool notes the urgency of sharing prophetic dreams, and they talk together of what the Fool has dreamed until he falls asleep. Fitz tends to him, and then he reaches out towards Nettle with the Skill. She informs him that Chade has died and relates his final days. Fitz relates his contact with Bee to her sister.

After Fitz releases contact with Nettle, he reaches through the Skill towards Bee and finds an echo of Chade in the Skill-current. In the dark, Fitz weeps.

There are some things that attract my attention in the chapter, as might be expected. One of them is in the prefatory remarks, which might well also be expected at this point. In them, Bee writes that “Wasps are more like men [than are bees], able to kill again and again, and still go on living” (423). The simile is of interest; in context, Bee contrasts wasps with bees (meaningfully, given her name), juxtaposing the usual fatality to the bee of using its sting with the ability of wasps to sting repeatedly. Implied is the idea that the wasps do not suffer harm from their repeated stings, although I note that so much is not made explicit, and I read with the fact that Bee is a White Prophet in mind; exact wording matters (something of a theme across Hobb’s work, as I’ve motioned towards), and what is not said is as important as what is. Implied also is that she, herself, cannot kill and remain alive, although this, too, must be read with the fact that Bee is a White Prophet in mind; in that case, it may simply be an acknowledgment that acting in such a way is a death of innocence. Further explication is suggested, and while it may well be the case that many would argue such exercises are of little value, I would reply that they both serve to deepen engagement with–and thus likely enjoyment of–the text so treated and to foster skills in attention and interpretation that are likely to be useful when applied to other media and to the non-media environment. But that’s something of an aside, I admit.

Another matter of interest in the chapter is the reassertion of butterfly imagery. Commonly associated with transformation and rebirth, the insect is referenced more than a few times across the Realm of the Elderlings novels. That it is here juxtaposed both with Bee’s comments about bees and wasps and with Chade’s death (itself foreshadowed heavily in the previous chapter) makes a bit more interesting of a reading; there is a lot of talk of transformations and of moving through stages of existence in the chapter, whether in Bee’s journal and its implications or the liveship’s intention to transform (from parts of chrysalides, no less) or in the idea that something of the person persists beyond death in the flow of those magics which Fitz and other Farseers employ. The imagery, although it does end up mixing with other images, seems to work well, here, and I’m always glad to see such things in what I read.

Less than one week remains, but there is still a little time to get your bespoke writing for the holidays!

Or you can send your support along directly!

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

---

Transcribed records of the environmental disaster that ravaged the Realm of the Elderlings precede “Under Sail.” The chapter begins with the Paragon making ready to depart Divvytown in haste, the dragons having departed. Kennit’s son takes ship and is stymied to find himself treated as a common deckhand rather than as an entitled princeling, Brashen and Sorcor having conferred to that effect. Fitz finds himself addressed by name and title and swiftly intuits Brashen’s purposes before taking himself off to confer with Amber. The conversation between the two is strained and interrupted by another summons to work.

A day out, Motley rejoins the group, having seemingly conferred with and been enriched by Heeby. After conferring with Perseverance about the crow, Fitz finds himself addressed by Kennitsson, the younger man trying to sort out the hierarchy in place aboard the ship. Fitz considers the change in his status and the return to working aboard ship. He also continues to marvel at the ease of working aboard a liveship as compared to a more normal vessel, remarking on the attitudes of the crew towards the same. How his companions fare as part of the crew is noted, as well, both for good and for ill.

Fitz is later summoned to Amber to discuss rescuing Bee. Plans for doing so are discussed, and changes to the mission to destroy Clerres are noted. Fitz’s own ongoing desire for revenge is also noted.

Amid the tedium of a slow ocean voyage, Fitz is reached through the Skill by Nettle. She notes having received his written report of events in Kelsingra, and they exchange news. Fitz thinks of Chade and is nearly overwhelmed by the old man’s Skilling. As Nettle and those in Buckkeep move to restrain Chade, Fitz hears Bee through the Skill, and he is thrown from his magics. Although he sorrows for his mentor, Fitz is buoyed up by the certain knowledge that Bee lives.

When Fitz takes the news to Amber, he finds only rebuke, and he contrasts her with the Fool. Fitz takes himself away, leaving Amber angry behind him.

Fitz is roused by Spark, who tells him, with apologies, that Amber has dreamed his death. Fitz considers it and his history with the Fool, and he muses on how Bee will live after he retrieves her. So musing, he dismisses Spark.

There’s a lot going on in the present chapter. The tensions surrounding Kennitsson continue to increase as he takes ship and starts work. As noted, Fitz quickly comes to understand what is happening with the younger man; he is being tested, and in ways he was not expecting to be challenged. I am put in mind of Regal as I read, as well as of Dutiful, and the thought suddenly occurs to me that I need to look at how often Hobb puts forward only sons and how they compare across her works. The thought also occurs that I need to keep better track of all of the scholarly somedays that pop up for me; I seem to have a lot of them, and I despair of ever addressing them all. Perhaps I will luck into being able to do so.

Tension also increases between Fitz and Amber. Both of them seem to me to be talking past one another, failing each to hear and understand the other. Some of that has always been the case, particularly as Fitz regards Beloved; he has always had trouble understanding what the White Prophet says. But then, the Prophet is rarely clear or direct in speech, occasionally making self-aware comments to the same effect, and it is also the case that the Prophet has known Fitz for as long as Fitz has known Beloved; for the Fool or Amber not to realize Fitz will react as Fitz does, as Fitz ever has, seems an oversight. I’ll admit that there are other concerns for both characters; Beloved is still early in recovery from substantial trauma, and Fitz is barely holding onto himself amid his own. Both have reason to be other than at their best. Both may be following paths of recovery that may not and need not be linear. But that does not mean it is not marked that they are at odds as they are in the present chapter.

The issue of Chade’s decline is also somewhat pointed. In some ways, it is to be expected. Chade was already old when Fitz first met him, and that is some sixty years prior; Fitz remarks being in his seventh decade–so his sixties–in the present chapter, and he is around six years of age when he first meets Chade, who was senior to his grandfather, Shrewd. Chade is therefore easily at or past a century old, and it hardly defies belief that so aged a person would not be in full possession of faculties. That Chade has abused himself with drugs and reckless experimentation with addictive magics does not help matters, either. I find myself wondering once again if biographical criticism might apply here, despite knowing how fraught it always is; an author need not experience something to depict it, and there are levels and levels of experience. I spent a lot of time around those who had engaged heavily with addiction, and I have a fair bit of exposure to people in age-driven decline, and what is presented of Chade in the present chapter rings true for me; it lines up with what I’ve seen and, frankly, what I fear.

Again, I find myself remembering why I read Robin Hobb.

Less than two weeks remain, but there is still time to get your bespoke writing for the holidays!

Or you can send your support along directly!

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

---

Unsigned comments seemingly from Fitz about Chade precede “Belief,” which begins with Brashen asking Fitz what Tintaglia wants from him amid a short break from the tasks setting out aboard the Paragon for Clerres demands of all who will sail thither. Those tasks are glossed, and the irritations felt at continued delays are rehearsed. Fitz loses his temper with the Fool.

After a couple of days, Sorcor, Wintrow, and Etta return to the Paragon, described in detail as they reluctantly allow Kennitsson to travel with the ship and Brashen and Althea’s crew. The matter is discussed, and permission for him to join the crew is given, with conditions applied. Work to ready the ship resumes in earnest, now aided by the vessel. Tintaglia arrives and summons Fitz to attend upon her. She rails against Icefyre, and she confirms that the Servants had done dragonkind some injury in the past for which vengeance must be taken–but she allows that Fitz may kill those in Clerres that he finds before hunger overtakes her and she gorges on Divvytown’s offerings.

Conversation ensues but is disrupted by the arrival of Heeby and Rapskal. Kennitsson falls under Heeby’s compulsion as Rapskal relays additional information to Fitz. Dragons’ eggs will soon hatch on Others Island and will need protecting; after that, the dragons will proceed to Clerres. The depredations of the Others and the Servants on prior generations of dragons are noted, and visits to that place recalled. Rapskal gifts Wintrow Elderling jewelry for his aid with She Who Remembers, and discussion of likely outcomes ensues.

Rapskal excuses himself, and Wintrow attends to him to defuse tempers. After their departure, Etta addresses Fitz with some concern.

The reminder in the prefatory materials that Chade was the brother of Shrewd, something noted early in the Realm of the Elderlings novels, is another one of the touches Hobb includes in the more recent works to remind readers of the narrative continuity at work. The reminder of Chade’s multiple magical talents is also a useful thing, reinforcing to readers the notion I explore in my old thesis that he is very much the Merlin to what Arthur Fitz can be considered to be. Too, I’m put just a bit in mind of Mary Stewart’s Arthurian Saga novels, which I still have on my shelf after having read them many years ago, now. I’ve not done the work to know if Hobb read Stewart (and I don’t think I’ll ever be in position to do so, things being as they are), but I’d not be surprised either way.

I suppose, in terms of narrative structures, that the present chapter is something of a climax. That is, it seems to be a turning point in the narrative, something like the first peak of a roller coaster before gravity takes over and sends the cars hurtling down the track. Matters have been set up, characters put into place, stakes established, tensions heightened, and the necessary course of events suggested sufficiently clearly that progress seems clear. (Too, it’s roughly halfway through the book; in the copy I’m rereading, the present chapter ends on page 399, while the whole novel runs to 846 pages. It’s the place to put such a thing, really.) An increase in pacing might well be expected to ensue in the next few chapters, as the narrative moves toward its resolution and denouement for the novel, its trilogy, and the main line of the Realm of the Elderlings corpus.

I look forward to rereading what’s coming. It’s been a while, certainly, and I have some need for the reminder. Too, it’s pleasant to be carried away by a story again; it used to happen for me a lot more than it does, and I miss it, anymore…

Fewer weeks remain, but there is still time to get your bespoke writing for the holidays!

Or you can send your support along directly!

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

The chapter discusses genital mutilation and other objectionables.

---

A “Report to the Four” regarding the Fool precedes “Another Ship, Another Journey.” The chapter proper begins with Bee rehearsing her situation and the changes to the same as she is forced to accompany Dwalia and Vindeliar towards Clerres aboard ship. The deception they work upon the ship’s crew is noted, as is Vindeliar’s lessening power in the wake of his being dosed with serpent saliva, and he bemoans the work he must do for her. Bee unsuccessfully resists the impulse to sympathize with her captors as she learns more of Vindeliar’s personal history, and she finds him in her mind.

Wolf-Father moves within her to defend her, presenting memories of Nighteyes’s earliest torments. It is successful, but Wolf-Father cautions Bee against allowing further intrusions. Bee takes the lesson she learns from the exchange and applies it to Vindeliar, lashing out at him through the Skill. They are interrupted from further tumult by a summons from Dwalia, which they move to answer. As they complete their assigned tasks, Vindeliar claims to Dwalia that Bee has stolen power from her, which Dwalia denies before beating Vindeliar again.

Bee realizes as Dwalia confronts her that she does, in fact, have the Skill, and she attempts to ply it against her as Dwalia makes to assail her again. At Wolf-Father’s urging, Bee feigns defeat, and Dwalia’s abusive attentions soon return to Vindeliar. Bee learns yet more of her captors and begins to slot that information together, including how Dwalia had come to know of her father and begun to move against them. She also realizes that she has made an enemy of Vindeliar, more than he already was.

I‘ll note that, as I was doing the rereading for this write-up, I got lost in doing the reading again. It’s something that happens to me fairly often when I am doing work with Hobb’s writing; I often find myself swept along by the prose, and I have done so for years. It complicated the work of writing my master’s thesis, in fact; I’d be looking through the Farseer or Tawny Man novels for quotes from which to construct my argument and realize, chapters and an hour or so later, that I’d gotten entirely sidetracked. That ease of immersion is one of the reasons I keep returning to Hobb’s writing, all these years later; it continues to draw me in. It’s nice to be so drawn; I don’t let it happen as often as I used to and as often as I probably ought to do, one of the changes in my life occasioned by my leaving academe.

I’ll also note that the explicit mention that Vindeliar is a eunuch is 1) unsurprising in the context of a society that practices eugenics (note here and elsewhere), and 2) an invocation of a standing trope of eunuchs as evil (and not seldom associated with magic powers). While there is some motion towards sympathy with Vindeliar, both within the narrative and between it and the reader, I have to wonder about the figuration at work in this case. As noted, the trope makes sense in context, and for the (dehumanizing) reasons the text has asserted directly and less so throughout discussion of Clerres. Still, I have to wonder how much, if any, is a response to Hobb’s contemporary, George RR Martin, and his use of the trope in Varys. I also have to wonder if Vindeliar is somehow being used as an inversion of Thick…something that makes more and more sense to me as I think on it again. Both might be true, of course. And it might well be true that the deployment of the trope serves other functions, perhaps helping to keep the Realm of the Elderlings connected to the Tolkienian tradition from which it has decided distinctions…among others.

More scholarly somedays await, it seems.

Scant weeks remain, but there is still time to get your bespoke writing for the holidays!

Or you can send your support along directly!

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

---

An old letter from Shrewd to Desire regarding the Fool precedes “Silver Ships and Dragons,” which opens with Fitz ruminating on the comparison between meetings of his family and the assemblage of the intertwined Vestrits and rulers of the Pirate Isles. Fitz assesses and describes those present at the meeting, and conversation about events and the coming changes to the liveships ensues. The looming end of Brashen and Althea’s mercantile careers is also reported.

Conversation is interrupted by the arrival aboard the Paragon, not entirely welcome, of Paragon Kennitsson. The brash heir to the Pirate Isles is described as he arrives, and after a tense exchange, the young man is summoned by the ship to the figurehead. Althea and Brashen confer over her difficulty with Kennitsson, due to Kennit’s mistreatment of her, and the whole group moves to the prow of the ship. There, they find Kennitsson and the ship plotting for the former to sail with the latter, and Wintrow argues against it, joined by Sorcor.

Kennitsson takes his leave, and the others confer about him, noting their failures with the young man. Fitz observes and ruminates on the difficulty and undesirability of having so much companionship on his errand of destruction. Conference continues until interrupted by the arrival of Etta, herself, in a royal dudgeon. It is quickly clear that she is aware of the current situation surrounding the Paragon and her son, and she voices her displeasure with how events are unfolding. Brashen pleads for assistance in sending along what can be sent of the goods they had carried in trade to their originally intended destinations, to which Wintrow agrees, but the notion of sailing without Kennitsson provokes anger from the Paragon; the threat to Althea and Wintrow provokes the Vivacia to anger.

In the ensuing tumult, Fitz offers to find another way for he and the Fool to proceed, but he is rebuffed, the Fool citing aspects of his prognostication in support of his assertions. This occasions upset among Fitz’s party, and Fitz voices his anger, but the Fool persists nonetheless. Fitz absents himself from the ongoing discussion between the liveships, considering Silver and trying to sort out more of his understanding of the Skill. Implications of using such of the substance as he carries occur to him, although his reverie is disturbed first by Lant, then by the need for his labor, and finally a sending from Tintaglia, whose approach is imminent.

As often, I find my attention taken by the prefatory materials of the chapter. For one thing, the revelation of an aspect of Shrewd’s character is a welcome thing. When he appears directly in the Farseer novels, he is a necessarily remote figure; it makes sense that a child and youth of disfavored parentage would not be terribly close to a ruling king of a grandfather, and even in closer relationships along family lines, there is often a distance between children and adults that is not easily bridged. To get a glimpse into Shrewd, then, is informative. It is also revealing, showing how besotted the man was with Desire–and it speaks again to the delight of emblematic naming in the Realm of the Elderlings, here making the clear point that desire can overwhelm even a shrewd mind, ultimately to bad ends.

The prefatory materials also connect back to the very beginnings of the Realm of the Elderlings novels, with the Fool’s first recorded words to Shrewd being a maxim Regal complains to Verity of him repeating upon his first meeting Fitz–to paraphrase, don’t do what you can’t undo without knowing what you can’t do after doing it. There are some minor variations in phrasing between what Shrewd gives in his letter and what Regal quotes his father as saying, differences between contractions and not, so nothing that much alters the meaning of the quip…which is, itself, very much in keeping with the Fool’s prognostications and recognition of the butterfly effect in enacting and avoiding them. To my rereading, it comes off as a nice bit of binding-up, a back-threading that makes a more cohesive narrative whole, and it’s something I appreciate seeing.

On the topic of prognostication, I note the Fool’s insistence that he cannot guide Fitz, that Fitz’s foreknowledge would taint his actions and skew the Fool’s visions. Here, again, the resonance with Asimovian psychohistory comes out for me, an older correspondence. While it’s been a while since I reread the sequence of the Robot, Empire, and Foundation novels, it used to be the case that I would reread them (and The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings) annually, doing so starting at age ten or so; they’re in me pretty deeply, even now, and so they do inflect my readings of other works. That’s to be expected, however; we all exist in a multilayered environment, and any interactions with any part of that environment will necessarily be influenced by the other parts of it–including the legacies of environments that were but no longer are. That I see a thing is a result not only of something being present to be seen, but also my predilection to look for that kind of thing; that I understand a thing in a given way means not only that the thing is available for that understanding, but also that I am apt to apply such an understanding. It does not mean other things are not present and other ways cannot be followed, which is something that I think many people run into, but I am digressing more than I ought to at this point.

There will be other days.

The holidays continue to draw closer, but there is still time to get your bespoke writing!

Or you can send your support along directly!

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

---

After a report from Rosemary to Dutiful, Elliania, and Kettricken that follows up on Fitz’s work in Kelsingra, “Serpent Spit” returns to Bee in her captivity. The effort of Dwalia and her followers, with Bee still captive, to depart from Sewelsby is reported, and Bee begins to be taken by her dream-visions. Vindeliar attempts to offer some comfort to Bee, and she steels herself against it as best she can.

Vindeliar continues to suffer under Dwalia’s attentions, begging for magical aid, as Bee watches and considers the straits in which she has found herself. She notices that, underneath her flaking skin, she is paler than she had been before. At length, Dwalia finds a victim upon which to focus her attentions for passage to Clerres, and she harshly pushes Vindeliar to work upon that victim. As he does, Bee becomes aware that he plies the Skill, and he pulls from her for his working. It succeeds, however, and the group finds a ship to take them onward.

Aboard, Dwalia plies Vindeliar with an intoxicating substance that amplifies his abilities. Vindeliar reaches out through the Skill to Bee, and she reaches into him in turn, learning much of his background. She begins to be moved to sympathy for him but rejects the notion as she is dragged onward.

The present chapter returns to an idea that has come up before in the series, that more successful White Prophets become less white as they increase in success. I believe I most recently address it, if perhaps only glancingly, here (and I am again confronted with my lack of proper indexing!); the idea is noted at several points in the series that, as a White Prophet moves the world closer to their vision, they darken as their skin peels away. The Fool shows it several times, and the present chapter presents the inversion. Bee cannot be considered to be advancing towards the future she envisions, or does not seem to consider herself doing so (prognostication is always a tricky thing), so she grows whiter as she goes. Again, the inversion of the usual trope is present, and, again, it makes things more interesting than a more common treatment would be apt to be. It’s one of those details I appreciate in Hobb’s writing.

I should comment, I think, that I do not think the use of tropes in themselves to be bad things. I don’t think I’m the only one who remarks that what works gets used until it doesn’t anymore, and for reason. I also don’t think I’m the only one who appreciates having the touchstones that many tropes represent; I like that there are “straight” productions of Shakespeare, for example, and that there are unironic re-presentations of standard fare. I sometimes return to such things for comfort. I also find them useful; having a baseline for comparison, however arbitrary, is necessary for much discussion, and while I can certainly acknowledge the fraughtness of asserting that any one work is the standard, I still find a measuring stick a good thing to have.

The holidays draw yet closer, and bespoke writing still makes a great gift–that I can help you get!

Or you can send your support along directly!

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

---

Following an excerpt from Symphe’s papers, “The Pirate Isles” begins with Fitz mulling over his continued voyage aboard the Paragon as the liveship obliges Althea, Brashen, and the crew to proceed past their intended and agreed-upon destination towards Clerres. The ill regard in which the crew holds him and his company is noted, and the routines into which Fitz and his company settle further are described.

One evening, Fitz disguises himself in Elderling garb and reconnoiters the liveship. Unseen by the crew, he overhears Clef teaching Per, as well as Lant and Spark discussing romantic entanglements. The latter gives Fitz cause to ruminate, and he retires.

The voyage continues, and matters worsen aboard the Paragon. Fitz confers with the Fool about the matter, as well as about how he feels himself treated by the Fool as Amber. The conference leaves Fitz angry, and he walks the decks to try to ease himself. An earlier argument with the liveship is rehearsed, and Kennit’s exploits are glossed to Fitz as the Paragon enters the Pirate Isles and is spotted by one of their ships. A conference about that ship is begun among Amber, Fitz, Althea, and Brashen, and the perils that present themselves at that juncture are noted.

The liveship shudders and shifts as the other ship approaches, and Paragon determines to make for Divvytown. Matters grow tense as the other ship draws closer, and the liveship consents to follow it, finding mooring near the Vivacia. As the ship is tied off, Fitz urges Lant to take Spark and depart, but is rebuffed once again. Fitz prepares messages for Buckkeep as ship’s matters are conducted, and he is aboard as the Paragon makes to confront the Vivacia. The two liveships confer at some odds, and Fitz is nearly overwhelmed by the magical energies that flow between the craft, and he is roused by a messenger bespeaking the return of Amber, Althea, and Brashen to the Paragon. Althea and Brashen’s son joins them, and Fitz muses on the complications that surround them all.

The present chapter is one of the longer ones in the novel thus far, running to thirty pages in the printing I am re-reading. The length does allow for a fair amount of material to be presented in a way that makes sense, in context; exposition is always a challenge to address well, but using time aboard ship with little else to do to address it picks up the gauntlet with relative ease.

That noted, I do find the introduction of the romance between Lant and Spark a bit abrupt. It does seem to surprise Fitz, admittedly, so I can accept it as a thing that had been going on “off-screen,” as it were, but I think I would have liked a bit more lead-up to it, a bit more foregrounding. In a series of novels that largely predicates itself on prognostication, I don’t think that’s too much to ask. (At the same time, I note something of a back-handed joke in the relationship, a spark setting off a lant[ern]. [Yes, it’s FitzVigliant, not Lantern, but still…]) Not that I could do better, admittedly; I do not claim to be able to do so much, and I do not want to be understood as doing so. But that does not mean I cannot point out what I see–or what I would have liked to have seen, even in a series of works I have repeatedly affirmed and demonstrated that I very much enjoy and appreciate.

I’ll note that my issue with the romance is not the romance itself. It makes sense that those who are in close proximity for extended periods of time would get to know one another better the longer they are together, and it does not exceed belief that that greater knowing would lead to greater affection leading towards love. Hell, I met my wife in graduate school, and while that’s not quite as sequestered an environment as Spark and Lant have shared, being in a post-baccalaureate program together does mean you see an awful lot of a relatively restricted number of people, the more so when you share office space as my wife and I did (about which a bit here). And it’s not like amorousness is new to the Realm of the Elderlings; Fitz has had his share, as have Althea and Brashen, as well as others who figure prominently in the milieu. It’s part of life for many people (I see you, aro folks), so it should be present in the work of an author who prizes verisimilitude, even if it’s not the protagonist’s focus at any given point in that work.

The holidays draw closer, and bespoke writing still makes a great gift–that I can help you get!

Or you can send your support along directly!