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The seventeenth chapter of Forest Mage, “Routine Duty,” starts with Nevare establishing regular habits of work, detailing some particularly unpleasant aspects of the same and the benefits of his diligence in those habits as he inters a young child. The work puts him in mind of Amzil and her children, and he makes for the garrison both to begin the process of returning her goods to her and to consult with Haren. While he is about doing so, he finds himself confronted by Spink and pretends not to recognize his erstwhile friend and classmate, mulling over his reasoning as he departs for the garrison headquarters.

Reporting to the commander, Nevare rehearses his difficulty in doing so before considering Haren, whom he finds much as he had upon their first meeting (see this novel’s “Gettys”). Haren initially upbraids Nevare but is pleasantly surprised to find him not attempting to back out of his commitment, but instead attempting to address it more fully and diligently. Nevare lays out his ideas, to which Haren responds and makes amendments. Haren also calls Nevare out by his true name, finding a swift response and conferring with him about Keft’s missives and his own intentions. He also asks Nevare about the situation with the road, Nevare offering three alternative approaches, of which two are novel to him. Nevare asks about wider knowledge of the situation in Gettys and is provided limited information about it before he is dismissed.

Nevare goes from the colonel’s office to the garrison mess, which is described, and he sits to table with fellow grave-workers Ebrooks and Kesey. Nevare asks about sending a package to Dead Town, finding little of use, and is reminded of Tiber and their commonalities. Nevare also learns more about the situation he occupies as the garrison undertaker and the depredations of the dead that take place. Conversation is interrupted by orders from Sergeant Hoster, whose antipathy towards Nevare is reported; after his tablemates depart, Nevare watches Tiber’s arrival and considers the man as he goes about his business.

Returning to his lodgings from the garrison, Nevare is surprised to find someone awaiting him–not the Spink whom he worries about, but Hitch, who has availed himself of Nevare’s provisions. Hitch speaks to Nevare about the changes he has caused with his exercise of magic, addressing a courier station that has received no supplies since his harsh words towards it (see this novel’s “The King’s Road”), the Dancing Spindle (this novel’s “Spindle Dance”), and a vegetable garden in Dead Town (this novel’s “Journey to Gettys”). Hitch again warns Nevare against the exercise of Speck magic, and he relates some of his experience with one Speck woman: Noselaca.

Conversation between the men winds down as Nevare asks Hitch to return Amzil’s sack to her and turns down an offer of a visit to a local brothel. After Hitch leaves to avail himself of the brothel, Nevare puzzles over how to call back at least some of what he has done with the Speck magic, eventually arriving at some idea of forgiveness and a possible working before he sleeps.

To address the chapter-length issue: the present chapter, in the edition of the novel I’m rereading, runs 29 pages in length, approximately 3.97% of the novel. Only one chapter in the novel, “Buel Hitch,” is longer. Much of its length is taken up by backward looks, the present chapter doing much to connect its narrative back to earlier events not only in the present novel, but also in the first novel in the Soldier Son series, reminding readers of the narrative whole the series comprises. Admittedly, not all readers will necessarily need the reminder, and some might think the coincidences involved somewhat contrived–as though any act of fiction-writing is not necessarily and inherently a contrivance.

Also, for indexing purposes, the following: Amzil, Carsina Grenalter, Clove, Colonel “Rabbit” Haren, Corporal Geddo, Croaker bird, “Curly” Kesey, Dancing Spindle, Dark Eve, Dead Town, Ebrooks, Epiny Kester, Farleyton Regiment, General Brodg, Gernia, Gettys, Gettys sweat, Holy Writ, Keft Burvelle, King Troven, King’s Road, Laudanum, Narina “Narrie” Geddo, Nevare Burve, Nevare Burvelle, Noselaca, Orandula, Plainsfolk, Renegade, Rheims, Rollo’s Tavern, Sarla Moggam, Scout Lieutenant Buel Hitch, Scout Lieutenant Tiber, Sergeant Hoster, Specks, Spinrek “Spink” Kester, Widevale, Wind wizard, Yaril Burvelle. A longer chapter might well be expected to have a larger number of indexable items; the present chapter seems to meet the expectation. It also pivots away from the name-lack of the previous chapter; Nevare names more of his fellow soldiers, reinforcing his explicit assertions of greater integration into the life of Gettys and its garrison amid his repeated returns in thought to earlier events.

As noted above, the repeated returns serve largely to reaffirm the connections within the present novel and between it and Shaman’s Crossing. Nevare’s own musings–on Amzil, on Spink, and on Tiber (with reference to Shaman’s Crossing‘s “Tiber”)–do no small part of the work in that regard; he spends a fair amount of the chapter thinking about what he had done, what he had failed to do, and what he anticipates others needing based upon those two quantities, all without someone else in the milieu planting the idea in his head that he needs to do so. Hitch’s explicit references back to Nevare’s earlier exercises do yet more, reminding Nevare and the reader that it is not only Nevare who keeps in mind what he has done, but that others yet will also remember. And the exchange with Haren about his father’s missives (with reference to this novel’s “Flight”) serves similarly for Nevare, although with the nuance that Haren is attempting to offer something of a clean slate to the younger man. Another scholarly someday presents itself in treatment of memory, its sites, and its functions in the Soldier Son novels–possibly with explicit contrast to similar things in the Realm of the Elderlings corpus (as discussed here).

Gender dynamics come up again in the present chapter as Hitch discusses Noselaca. The topic has been one under consideration in the series repeatedly, as witness such items as Shaman’s Crossing‘s “The Return” and “Séance,” as well as the present novel’s “Forest Dreams,” “Rosse’s Wedding,” “A Day of Letters,” “Dewara,” the already-linked “Flight,” and the already-linked “The King’s Road.” While it has been the case that both adherence to and divergence from Gernian gender norms have been presented, those presentations and the considerations they prompt exist within a common culture; the difference between them and the practices of the Dappled People–which, admittedly, extend past gender norms in the present chapter’s discussion–is striking, and it brings to mind the matriarchal social structures of the Out Islanders in the Realm of the Elderlings novels (and which inform some of my scholarship). Hitch’s remarks that “There was a woman, a Speck woman. She wanted me, and what a Speck woman wants, she takes. And a Speck woman is just like their magic. She makes you her own, and that’s it” (393) and “She’s not my woman […] Never talk about a Speck woman that way. She could put you in a bad way over something like that” (395-96) bespeak a markedly different gender dynamic at work among the Dappled People than among the Gernians, and while it is not necessarily presented as a desirable option, it is also, due to its framing, not presented as one that is necessarily bad, either. Gender norms continue to comprise an issue to which to attend in the rereading in the present chapter, and I expect that will keep on being the case as I keep on reading through the novels again.

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The sixteenth chapter of Forest Mage, “The Cemetery,” opens on Nevare filling out enlistment papers under the pseudonym of Nevare Burve and being informed of the exceeding irregularity of the situation in Gettys. He is given such supplies as are available, their condition described, and is directed to ride out to the end of the King’s Road. On his way to do so, he returns briefly to Hitch, conferring with the drug-addled officer before requisitioning supplies and heading out.

Nevare’s progress to the end of the King’s Road is described, the condition of the road deteriorating as Nevare moves further along it, and an oppressive sense of dismay weighs upon him and those he encounters. A small flight of croaker birds attracts his attention along the way, as does the disarray of the in-progress end of the road. Although Nevare marvels at the grandeur of the trees that surround him, he is also taken by fear of them and their sudden impression of sentient judgment of him, and he flees in terror from it.

Nevare returns from the experience to some acclaim from his new comrades, the experience of terror at the end of the road being something of a ritual among them, and he travels from that end to his assigned cemetery post. Said post is surveyed and described, and Nevare begins to settle into it. As he does so, he recognizes that Gettys was once a better place than it now is, and he thinks of asking that Amzil’s bag be returned to her. He also tends to his hunger, considering it and the changes that have taken place in his body, before going out among the graves that are now his to tend.

Rain arrives, and Nevare settles in, soon turning inward in thought to his sister and his annoyance at his present situation before sleeping and, he thinks, dreaming erotically of a woman of the Dappled People stalking through his lodgings. He wakes unable to return to sleep in the night, and the next morning sees him report back to Gettys to requisition more supplies. They are given him without trouble, and he calls on Hitch once again, the scout remarking on the magic used against the Gernian forces by the Dappled People.

As Nevare makes to return to his lodgings, he sees Epiny present, and he hides from her. Recognizing that his situation and hers–as well as that of Spink, whose presence at Gettys explains hers–will be fraught, he again contemplates the changes to his body and tries to immerse himself in work on his lodgings and station, ending the day with a bleak feeling growing upon him.

To address the chapter-length issue: the present chapter,* in the edition of the novel I’m rereading, runs 26 pages in length, approximately 3.56% of the novel. It is more than one and a quarter times the length of the average chapter in the novel, which juxtaposes it against the previous chapter, but as there is need for substantial explication at this point, so much makes sense. Nevare has been delivered to the location where he needs to be for the story to progress; it is only fitting that the location, and his specific situation within it, be described, and such descriptions take time.

Also, for indexing purposes, the following: Amzil, Clove, Colonel “Rabbit” Haren, Croaker bird, Dancing Spindle, Elisi Burvelle, Epiny Kester, Gernian, Gettys, Gettys beer, Gettys Cemetery, Gettys sweat, Gnats, Laudanum, Nevare Burve, Nevare Burvelle, Plague, Rollo’s Tavern, Scout Lieutenant Buel Hitch, Sergeant Gafney, Speck, King’s Road, Spinrek “Spink” Kester, Widevale, Yaril Burvelle. Despite the longer chapter, there are relatively few indexables; this is because Nevare markedly does not report a large number of his comrades’ names despite encountering a fairly large number of people. That the names are not remarked indicates, among others, that Nevare is changing in how he regards the people among whom he was raised and ostensibly hopes to live and that his situation in Gettys is not one like to last long; there is little point in rehearsing the names of those who will little elsewise appear, except in that it reinforces verisimilitude–but as Hobb tends to value verisimilitude (as noted in “5000 Words”), the lack of a device to foster it is a marked choice, indicating that more is going on.

Of note is the pseudonym under which Nevare enlists. Given that “Nevare” occasions no comment from those accepting his enlistment paperwork, it would seem to be a common enough name in Gernia, even if it strikes an English-language reader oddly.** The surname is an easy choice because of its similarity to his “real” name, so that if he answers to it, it will not seem out of place for him, but it does seem a bit odd that, given that similarity and the renown Keft enjoys among the military, nobody has yet mentioned the close correspondence.

I also note that the present chapter does do more to break down Nevare’s previous preconceptions of military life. The present novel and its antecedent make clear that Nevare grows up with and long retains an idealized vision of what the Gernian military is and does; as he continues to encounter the reality of it, he becomes increasingly disenchanted with it, to the point that, in the present chapter, he finds hmself questioning his very existence as a soldier, although he rebukes himself for asking the question (362-63). The tension between “should be” and “is” remains strong in the novel, and it is one with which I, reading affectively once again, sympathize.

Nevare’s encounter with croaker birds (349) merits attention. There is a peculiarly trinitarian resonance in it that I notice but that I am not well equipped to unpack at this point, unless perhaps to make the points that 1) it is a separation of Gernian religion from the Christianity of its United States antecedent and 2) there may be something of a backhanded reference to the Fool on display in the image. Yet more scholarly somedays beckon.

To pivot: although I maintain that it is the case Hobb moves away from the Tolkienian fantasy tradition in a number of ways,† Hobb herself avows having emerged from that tradition (note “A Bar and a Quest“). The present chapter shows that emergence powerfully, the resistance of the Dappled People’s forest to incursion by Gernian colonialist efforts and the size and ancientry of its trees bringing to mind Fangorn Forest as encountered in The Two Towers. The forest seems somehow sentient and angry, attempting to push back against those who would invade it and working powerfully upon such people. This is not the first instance of Hobb making a Tokienian gesture of appreciation towards trees (see Fool’s Errand‘s “Dead Man’s Regrets” and Shaman’s Crossing‘s “Journey” for examples), but it is a particularly emphatic one–not enough to break the overall trend of distancing from the Tolkienian tradition, but enough to merit attention, certainly.

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* I find that I lament the timing of this part of my rereading; had I been just a little faster in getting these reflections out into the world, the present piece would have hit before Halloween, an observance for which the content is appropriate. As it is, I’m on the first working day following, which I will have to take as being close enough, as well as a reminder that I ought always to be more diligent in following what I set out to do. Literature offers lessons for life, it seems.

** Spanish, referenced earlier (see Shaman’s Crossing‘s “Classmates” and “Initiation“) doesn’t help, either, “nevare” being a conjugation of a word meaning “to snow,” and the character not showing much of the typical association therewith.

† See “Moving beyond Tolkien’s Medievalism: Robin Hobb’s Farseer and Tawny Man Trilogies,” “An Update to ‘Moving beyond Tolkien’s Medievalism,'” and “Another Update to ‘Moving beyond Tolkien’s Medievalism‘”; along with Shaman’s Crossing‘s “Magic and Iron,” “Harbinger,” “Dewara,” “Sword and Pen,” the above-linked “Journey,” “The Academy,” and “Plague“; as well as the present novel’s “Rosse’s Wedding.”

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The fifteenth chapter of Forest Mage, “Gettys,” begins with Nevare and Hitch arriving at Gettys, Nevare contrasting the dilapidated settlement he finds with his boyhood expectations as the fort and town are described. Hitch offers some details about the local garrison as they make their way in, commenting that the continued magical work of the Specks interferes with the settlement establishing itself well.

At length, Nevare delivers Hitch to the Gettys infirmary, where he is admitted as he requests the attentions of Dr. Dowder rather than Dr. Frye, and Hitch issues a series of directives to Nevare. He also pens a hasty recommendation for Nevare that he is to take to the local commander, Colonel Haren. Nevare moves to make himself ready for an audience therewith, finding himself the butt of jokes by the local barber, and he presents himself to Haren.

Haren’s out-of-place appearance is described as he receives Nevare’s report of events and the recommendation Hitch had written him. With reservation, he accepts Nevare’s proposal of enlistment and assignes him to guard the local cemeteries; with delight, he accepts a small package that Hitch had been carrying for him, and he dismisses Nevare to fill out enlistment papers. Nevare relays as much to Haren’s attending sergeant, and the process of signing on begins.

To address the chapter-length issue: the present chapter, in the edition of the novel I’m rereading, runs 18 pages in length, approximately 2.46% of the novel. Although not the shortest chapter in the novel, it is of below-average length, and it seems to be doing more of what the previous chapter does in getting characters where they need to be, although there is a little bit more explication of the new location so that readers can get oriented along with Nevare as to that location.

Also, for indexing purposes, the following: Barrier Mountains, Brede Regiment, Captain Dr. Dowder, Captain Dr. Frye, Cavalla, Clove, Colonel “Rabbit” Haren, Colonel Lope, Croaker birds, Drawroot, Farleyton Regiment, Franner’s Bend, Gernia, Gettys, King’s Road, Nevare Burvelle, Old Thares, Renegade, Salmon, Scout Lieutenant Buel Hitch, Speck, Tobacco. As might be thought for a brief chapter, the set of indexables is limited, but that it is limited does not mean there are no points of interest.

Among those points of interest, at least for me, is something of an echo of Dances with Wolves at work in the present chapter, Nevare’s arrival at Gettys and his acceptance into its garrison calling to mind for me the scene in the 1990 film in which Costner’s Lt. Dunbar reports to Major Fambrough, finding the post at odds with expectations and the commander of a far different disposition. While Haren is far more grounded than Fambrough, he does appear to have his…difficulties in reconciling his current circumstances with his own expectations, seeming to be disconnected from the reality around him. I know that Hobb is nuancing her setting away from common expectations, as is her custom,* but I also know that making the nuance requires some reference to such expectations, which is what I read as at work here, intentionally or inadvertently (that is, Hobb may be responding to the film directly, or she may well be responding to the pool of tropes and commonplaces from which the film arises).

I am put in mind, too, of the Ghost Dance, which was enacted in the hope of throwing back colonialist encroachments. While the Ghost Dance itself was unsuccessful, one of the nuances in Hobb’s work is that the various dances the Dappled People do seem to have some overt effect, whether the Dust Dance done on Dark Evening (see Shaman’s Crossing‘s “Carnival”) or the ongoing one that hinders the establishment and development of Gettys. Admittedly, I would need to do more reading to be able to point out details that bring out the parallels, but from the perspective of general, nonspecialist reading, I see enough to invite the question; I guess it is yet another of the scholarly somedays I hope I shall be able to address.

There is another little bit of correspondence between Hobb’s work and its real-life antecedents, helping to impart the verisimilitude to the text that Hobb is concerned with fostering (see “5000 Words about Myself,” abstracted here). Both physicians available to Gettys hold the rank of captain, which appears to be the rank at which physicians are commissioned by the US Army, per this. While it might not strictly accord with historical practice (and this is another area in which I should do more reading, and I do intend to do that reading as I expand on my observations here), it is something likely to resonate with Hobb’s presumed primary audience; if it is wrong, it is usefully so, as are many borrowings from various pasts.

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* See “Moving beyond Tolkien’s Medievalism: Robin Hobb’s Farseer and Tawny Man Trilogies,” “An Update to ‘Moving beyond Tolkien’s Medievalism,'” and “Another Update to ‘Moving beyond Tolkien’s Medievalism.'”

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The thirteenth chapter of Forest Mage, “Buel Hitch,” opens on Nevare remaining long with Amzil despite his intention of moving onward, distracted by the pleasure of feeling himself of use to her and her children. His efforts on their behalf are described in some detail, ranging from teaching rabbit-snaring to making exchanges of supplies and labor with others in Dead Town, and improvements in Amzil’s life are measurable.

Nevare marks the few travelers that pass by while he remains with Amzil, and he begins more and more to be part of her life and her children’s. One night, Nevare dreams of Tree Woman again, surprised that she yet lives and warned by her that he cannot remain where he is, lest worse things befall than yet have. The morning after, Amzil muses bitterly to him on her feelings of abandonment, explaining her thoughts to a doubtful Nevare, who attempts without success to argue against the position.

Nevare finds himself in mind of Spink as he frets about Amzil and her children, and he briefly considers setting aside the demands of his birth, to which he holds despite his father’s words. He chances upon a ragged garden amid his musings, and although there is some tension as Nevare learns more about Dead Town’s inhabitants, he considers sending for Yaril to have her settle in Dead Town, although he soon rejects the idea.

Further reverie is interrupted by Nevare’s discovery of the injured scout lieutenant, Buel Hitch. Nevare makes to tend the man, and he comes into conflict with Amzil as he does so, she being unwilling to have a stranger in her house. Hitch expresses surprise at Nevare and his circumstances, and he fairly commands Nevare’s assistance in helping him reach Gettys. Nevare begins to make preparations to depart, he and Amzil conferring again, and he remains resolved despite some misgivings about leaving her and the children behind.

Nevare goes out hunting to try to leave something for Amzil, and he is able to take a deer despite poor equipment. This, he delivers back to Amzil with instructions about how to handle it, and he goes to bathe afterwards, being disgusted with the state of his body as he finds it, somehow even fatter despite leaner eating. Later, Amzil provides a meal to Nevare and Hitch, liver and onions, in which Nevare revels. After Nevare returns the dishes to Amzil, Hitch chivvies him about her and notes her earlier propensity towards prostitution, leaving Nevare in some doubt of himself but resolved to press ahead toward Gettys with the next morning.

To address the chapter-length issue: the present chapter, in the edition of the novel I’m rereading, runs 31 pages in length, approximately 4.24% of the novel. It is the single longest chapter in the novel, as well, and if it is the case that a new narrative arc in the novel began in “Flight,” and that it and the next two chapters serve primarily as exposition for that arc, then the present chapter offers what might well be termed an inciting incident or, following Freytag, the rising action of said arc.

Also, for indexing purposes, the following: Amzil, Buck, Carsina Grenalter, Clove, Coffee, Dead Town, Gettys, Kara, Liver, Merkus, Nevare Burr, Nevare Burvelle, Old Thares, Rabbits, Reeves, Rig, Roya, Scout Lieutenant Buel Hitch, Sem, Soldier’s Boy, Specks, Spinrek “Spink” Kester, Teme, Tree Woman, Widevale, Yaril Burvelle. It is a surprisingly brief list for so long a chapter, but since the present chapter is largely not explication, as such, it does not need to have as many indexable items as that.

Of note is Amzil’s comment that the king “took all the poor folk who broke the laws to live, and sent us out here to die” (285). It does seem a cruel thing to do, of course, not only to exclude people from society but also to do so after promising them a new beginning and a chance at rehabilitation and reintegration. That Amzil expounds upon the situation of those in Dead Town, criminals given no real instruction in how to live otherwise than by predation upon each other and left thrown together without any oversight or means of adjusting their lives, does support her position that Dead Town–and, by extension, the other places like it along the Gernian colonialist project–serves as a means of “cleansing” the imperial core, and doing so in a way that reinforces existing social hierarchies, since the perhaps-planned failures of such places and their inhabitants “proves” that those exiled to them deserve the condemnation that has been heaped upon them. And while it is true that, left in such conditions, people do what they must so that they and their children can survive, it is also true that they are not offered an honest opportunity to change their situations, which is what the expansionist project promises those who accept its bargain.

Another item of note: Nevare seems quite versed in garden agriculture for someone in his position. While it might be expected that, having been raised to help steward his family’s lands after a military career, Nevare would have some training in such things, so much is not really expressed; the stewardship that had been previously suggested was of the overseeing-the-actual-workers variety. How much of the seeming domesticity serves to contrast Nevare from Fitz (see the above) is unclear, although worth consideration; the fact of it seeming not to fit with what memory indicates is his personality and skill-set is of more importance.

Yet another item of note: much is made in the present chapter of Nevare killing a young buck. I am again put in mind of comparisons to FitzChivalry Farseer, such as I’ve noted in Shaman’s Crossing‘s “Magic and Iron,” “Journey,” “Crossing the Bridge,” “Sword and Pen,” “Carnival,” and “Plague.” The scene in the present chapter seems something of a refutation of those comparisons, or else a reaffirmation that the Soldier Son is not the Farseer or the Tawny Man, that Gernia is not the Six Duchies, for all the ways in which they do share some features and tendencies of narrative construction. But then it is also the case that Fitz, himself, does a lot of buck-killing, variously interpreted…there is some nuance, I find as I think on it more, and I wonder if it might not be another scholarly someday dawning that such a thing might be explored.

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The twelfth chapter of Forest Mage, “The King’s Road,” begins with Nevare considering something he was told by an inhabitant of Dead Town, the situation of which is described. Nevare pivots from consideration of Dead Town to musing on the King’s Road project which gave rise to it, noting that his progress along it is destroying his favorable impression of the project, and he rehearses the continuing changes to his situation as he continues eastward along its path.

As Nevare continues onward, he comes across the remnants of military units that had succumbed to the recent outbreak of Speck plague that had taken members of Nevare’s family, near which he finds a hidden cache of food and supplies that wrenches his attention and efforts. He exhausts himself in futile efforts before resigning against them, doing little enough to replenish stores from which he draws.

Nevare continues further eastward, marking the increasingly poor conditions of the King’s Road along which he travels, reporting on the same at a courier post he encounters. He attempts to purchase supplies there and is rebuffed, even when Nevare attempts to ply him with magic. His magic surges against the post leader who rebukes him, although Nevare does not know what effect the exercise of his magic will have upon its target as he departs.

More travel brings Nevare to another courier station, one that treats him less poorly but still not well, and when Nevare departs thence, he finds himself considering multiple possible destinations. He settles on moving toward Gettys, closer to the Dappled People than his other possible destinations, and he continues among degrading conditions and lessening signs of Gernian habitation.

The town Nevare does encounter is run down and full of suspicious people in straitened circumstances. He eventually finds a household within it, that of Amzil and her children, willing to take him in for the night, and he offers his labor in exchange for his lodging. Offering some of his own diminishing provisions to the family, he learns their story and situation; Amzil is the widow of a penal worker who had been lured by the promise of a better life and left with an injury that led to his death. Once the work-gangs moved on, she and the rest were left to their own devices, given scarce provisions and no training in how to use them, abandoned by Gernia.

Moved by Amzil’s story, Nevare offers to stay longer and work to improve her conditions. Amzil asks what he will want in return, and although she is in doubt of the simplicity of his request, she accedes. Nevare spends the next days working to shore up Amzil’s small home and teaching her and her children some ways to feed themselves from the nearby terrain. He also muses on his own diminishing prospects, determining to depart the next day.

To address the chapter-length issue: the present chapter, in the edition of the novel I’m rereading, runs 28 pages in length, approximately 3.83% of the novel. It continues exposition in what seems to be a new narrative arc, as well as doing a fair bit to enrich and expand the worldbuilding at work in the Soldier Son series and offering opportunities for reflection on a number of points, so the relatively greater length makes sense.

Also, for indexing purposes, the following: Amzil, Barrier Mountains, Cayton’s Horse, Charily, Clove, Croaker birds, Dead Town, Dia, Doril’s Foot, Eighth Regiment, Epiny Kester, Far Sea, Franner’s Bend, Gernia, Gettys, Gord Lading, Hectors, Holy Writ, Hoskin’s Horse, Jirry, Kara, King Troven, King’s Road, Kingsbridge, Lakegard, Laston, Mendes River, Mendy, Nevare Burvelle, Old Thares, Plainsfolk, Rats’ Nests, Rig, Scouts, Selethe Burvelle, Sem, Sergeant Duril, Seventh Regiment, Sirlofty, Speck Plague, Spond wood, Tefa River, Third Regiment, Trade Post, Trist Wissom, Widevale, Yaril Burvelle. The relatively long chapter admits of many indexable items, and Nevare admittedly spends some time considering destinations, offering more such than might otherwise be expected.

An item of interest in the present chapter is its opening one-sentence paragraph: “The good god never intended for people to live here” (249). As an opening line, it is gripping in itself, and being a decided pivot from the conclusion of the previous chapter, it attracts even more emphatic attention than that; the stark statement sits heavily, a thud on the floor that draws eyes to what caused it. Additionally, it sets the tone for what follows, moving into and through some bleak ruminations and presentations that are worth considering.

One such series of ruminations, for which reference to Helen Young’s 2014 “Critiques of Colonialism in Robin Hobb’s Soldier Son Trilogy” might be in order, is on the development of the Gernian colonial project. Nevare is, of course, a beneficiary of that project, the status he enjoyed until recently (relative to the present chapter) deriving entirely from his father’s advancement of Gernia’s colonialist aims; the tension between that background and the rights and needs of indigenous peoples being displaced underlies much of the narrative of the Soldier Son novels thus far. That the earlier, longer developed parts of the colonialist project might offer more comfort to those who dwell amid them is a sensible enough thing, and it is presented as such in the current chapter, although the difficulties inhering in driving the project by the use of convict labor are also sensible and very much evident in the chapter, the more so as it continues longer.

I note, too, that Nevare’s interactions with food in the present chapter ring of descriptions of addiction, which is something that Hobb’s works have treated at length; Fitz’s and others’ use of the Skill and Brashen’s use of cindin in the Realm of the Elderlings come to mind as ready examples, although they are not the only ones to find therein. In Nevare’s case, his food-cravings move beyond “normal” bodily needs, driven by the outside force of the magic that has been thrust upon him (253). Food addictions and eating disorders certainly exist in the readerly world, and the presentation of their symptoms as an artifact of magic can be taken as some kind of allegory for them; again, recourse to Anna Metsäpelto’s 2013 thesis might be in order, and I have to wonder if there is yet another of my own scholarly somedays to find in consideration of that allegory.*

Another point of interest that emerges for me is the differentiation of military units on display in the present chapter. To my recollection, in the Soldier Son novels previously, military units had been referred to by name, such as the present chapter’s Cayton’s Horse and Doril’s Foot. In the present chapter, there are also references to numbered units, specifically infantry units (as opposed to cavalry or artillery). While there may be some indication of class distinction at work, it is also possible that the numbered units simply have not done something to merit a proper name rather than a number; it is also possible that the numbered units are newer and proceed from more organized and rigorous military systems than earlier-formed units. In the juxtaposition, however, Hobb presents a bit more of the worldbuilding that makes Gernia so accessible a milieu as it is, and that is a good thing; the readerly world is inconsistent, so having such differences helps prompt verisimilitude.

Particularly prominent in the present chapter is the extension of the feminist discourse that has been at work in the Soldier Son novels.** Like similar motions in the Realm of the Elderlings novels, the discourse in the Soldier Son series does much to point out the conditions of women in the milieu, and while it is the case that Gernia is fictional, it also remains the case that it borrows much from the all too real (and still all too current, given ways in which putatively traditional roles for men and women are being presented not only as desirable, but increasingly mandatory). For how many of Hobb’s presumed primary readers do Amzil’s situation and that of her children parallel their own or those near to them? For how many do Selethe’s situation, which Nevare acknowledges suffered, as Epiny had intimated to him? It is not a new scholarly someday to note that the matter merits consideration, if another has not already done the work.

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* Hobb’s relationship with allegory is somewhat contested, as I think I’ve gestured towards with ideas about the Wit as allegory for homosexuality in the Farseer novels and the overt presentation of same-sex relationships in the succeeding Tawny Man trilogy. That the issue is complicated is not a bad thing, however; it offers more opportunity for reflection and thus for increased understanding than might otherwise be the case.

**See for discussion Shaman’s Crossing‘s “Séance,” as well as Forest Mage‘s “Forest Dreams,” “Rosse’s Wedding,” “A Day of Letters,” and “Flight.”

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The eleventh chapter of Forest Mage, “Franner’s Bend,” starts as Nevare proceeds away from his childhood home, ruminating on his changed circumstances and the implications thereof. He also considers seasonal changes at work in the area, as well as the civilizational changes that have crept upon the land. The encroaching of Gernian settlement shocks him somewhat as he considers it.

Arriving at Franner’s Bend, Nevare finds himself something of a curiosity as he looks for lodging for the evening. Sirlofty makes a show of not wanting to bear him as he proceeds, and Nevare considers the options available to him. Harangued by a local child, Nevare is able to find lodgings for the evening and, after learning some information about local situations, is referred to a horse-trader.

Nevare visits the horse trader, producing a draft animal and a saddle, although at the cost of both attracting significant attention and of working magic upon him. Returning to his lodgings, he compares the new animal, Clove, to Sirlofty and finds the new mount lacking but the old one unsuitable. Thus determined, he takes his supplies from Sirlofty, leaving the saddle, and takes the mount to the garrison, asking that Sirlofty be examined and returned to Widevale.

On the way back to his lodgings, Nevare engages the services of a prostitute, finding the exchange an unsatisfying reminder of his changed situation.

To address the chapter-length issue: the present chapter, in the edition of the novel I’m rereading, runs 17 pages in length, approximately 2.33% of the novel. It does serve a useful expository purpose for all its brevity, however, and helps to display how Nevare manages to break from his earlier life in favor of starting a new one that yet remains within the confines of what is familiar to him.

Also, for indexing purposes, the following: Birdbrush, Clove, Cotton, Dewara, Farvi, Franner’s Bend, Gernians, Guff, Hector, Jirry, Keft Burvelle, King’s Road, Last Bale, Midlands, Nevare Burvelle, Old Thares, Pewter, Plainsfolk, Rivergate, Sassy, Sirlofty, Talley, Widevale, Yaril Burvelle. As befits a brief chapter, the list of indexables is not a long one.

Of note to me is Nevare’s return to Franner’s Bend. So far as I can tell, he has not been back there since the very beginnings of the Soldier Son novels (see “Magic and Iron” in Shaman’s Crossing), and he makes much of the changes that have taken place in the area since he last visited it. Many of his comments echo concerns of the closing frontier in the United States, about which Turrentine and Glenn have some useful comments here. Again, Gernia pulls from the United States of the late nineteenth century, so the notion that “the open wild lands were vanishing” (236) is one in accord with the preexisting materials of the Soldier Son novels, and if it is problematic in several ways, that is also hardly at odds with the history from which it borrows so extensively.

Also of note to me, and perhaps it comes to mind because of my recent experience running a game of Dungeons & Dragons in which such concerns present themselves insistently, is the breakdown of money as Nevare reports having “seven hectors, fifteen talleys, and six pewters” (237). Currency is discussed only a little previously; there is some mention of a gift of money in the eastern Burvelle home of a Dark Evening (see Shaman’s Crossing‘s “Sword and Pen”), and Nevare remarks on his supply of hectors as he returns home from the King’s Cavalla Academy (see Forest Mage‘s “Spindle Dance”). Having a more detailed description of currency in the present chapter both makes it more of a concern than had previously been the case–greater detail bespeaks more attention, implying greater importance–as well as adding to worldbuilding; different denominations flesh out Gernia a bit more. Suggested by the names is that the talley is the “basic” currency, given that a tally is a simple accounting record; hector, mentioned previously and listed first in the present chapter, is likely a higher-value denomination (and quite possibly although not certainly named after an earlier monarch), with pewters, presumably called for the material of which they are made, of lesser value. This is conjectural on my part, of course; I follow implications and common practices to find something that makes sense in the absence of overt statements. It’s all any of us can do.

Additionally of note are comments Guff* makes about the resettlement and rehabilitation program Gernia operates for its laborers on the King’s Road (239). While there may be some virtue in giving those who have, as it were, paid their debt to society some means of starting a new life–in this case, an allotment of land–there is much less so in failing to offer those who receive such gifts any information about how to use the land that is theirs. Recidivism is almost certain in such cases–or worse, as Guff points out has befallen many in and around Franner’s Bend. The late-nineteenth-century-United-States parallel seems to me to be the Homestead Act; the National Park Service remarks that “more than half [of the homesteaders] were successful,” seeming something of a damnation by faint praise, and the University of Nebraska at Lincoln holds a fair amount of relevant materials for those interested in learning more. Certainly, there is more to say on the matter than is reasonable for the present commentary; perhaps another scholarly someday will dawn to shed light upon that “more.”

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* I feel I have to make a comment about the name. The word itself, per common knowledge as affirmed by Merriam-Webster, denotes untruth at some level, whether as a lie, as exaggeration, or as what Frankfurt and those who follow him refer to as bullshit. (I’ve commented about the last, as might be expected, in such places as this, this, this, and this.) The character so named in the present chapter seems to be offering the exact opposite, much as a towering hulk of a person might be called Tiny; the same kind of joke is at work, and even if it is the case that giving an explanation kills a joke, it’s one of the kinds of thing that inform my lingering literary study. (I’m not going to list examples here, but will encourage my kindly readers to reread what I have written in this webspace; it pops up often enough that finding examples should be no challenge.)

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The present chapter continues to depict abusive relationships.

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The tenth chapter of Forest Mage, “Flight,” begins with Nevare glossing the process of his father’s recovery and that of his estate. The actions Nevare takes to keep the estate going are glossed, and news of outside events is rehearsed. Nevare takes some charge, acting in his father’s name to restore order and some sense of forward motion to the estate and the surrounding area that takes its direction therefrom, and he relates a number of difficulties in doing the same.

With some stability established, Nevare recalls Yaril from the Poronte estate, noting with some confusion that Cecile–whom he regards as duty-bound to return to her late husband’s home–is not coming. Yaril apologizes for her earlier disregard of her brother and returns to her childhood home. She soon proves adept at its management, and, with Nevare, does much to restore it to something resembling normal functioning, if with some changes made to suit her personal tastes.

As things progress back towards normalcy, Nevare takes the chance to relax one evening, going into town to drink a bit and surveying changes in the local situation. He does note that the drinking has less effect on him than he would have expected, but he makes little of it, and makes a habit of regular trips to town.

Correspondence resumes, and Nevare receives news of Spink and Epiny with some joy. Spink is being commissioned, Sefert purchasing the position, and Nevare fleetingly considers using his father’s funds to do the same, but sets the temptation aside. He also continues to try for rapprochement with his father, to no avail, and he learns from Yaril much of the state of Keft’s mind. Yaril also speaks of the social situation surrounding them, and she learns Nevare’s story of his enchantment.

Some days after, Keft returns to the dinner table, rebuking Nevare for his presumption and upbraiding Yaril for her part in it. Yaril flees the growing upset, and Keft disowns Nevare, casting him out. Calmly, Nevare goes to Yaril and confers with her before preparing to leave, promising to send for her when he can. He packs what he can and that he feels a right to, mounts Sirlofty, and bids Duril farewell as he departs.

To address the chapter-length issue: the present chapter, in the edition of the novel I’m rereading, runs 29 pages in length, approximately 3.97% of the novel. There is but one chapter longer, and one other of the same length; each other chapter or major division of the text is shorter than the present chapter. While it is the case that chapter length and narrative importance do not necessarily or even often correspond, the fact that the present chapter takes its time, relatively speaking, does invite readers to spend more time with the text in this portion of it. And a longer chapter does serve an expository purpose for what seems clearly to be a new narrative arc beginning in the present novel.

Also, for indexing purposes, the following: Bacon, Bitter Springs, Burvelle Landing, Car Stiet, Carsina Grenalter, Caulder Stiet, Cayton’s Horse, Cecile Burvelle, Coffee.Colonel Stiet, Croaker bird, Dancing Spindle, Dark Evening, Dewara, Doril’s Foot, Dr. Jakib Amicas, Dust Dance, Elisi Burvelle, Epiny Kester, Farleyton’s Horse, Franner’s Bend, Gettys, Kase Remwar, Keft Burvelle, King’s Road, Lady Poronte, Landing Inn, Lord Poronte, Mosquitoes, Nevare Burvelle, Nita, Plague, Rosse Burvelle, Sefert Burvelle, Selethe Burvelle, Sergeant Erib Duril, Sirlofty, Spinrek “Spink” Kester, Tree Woman, Vanze Burvelle, Widevale, Yaril Burvelle. As might be expected from a long chapter with much going on, there are many indexable items to be found.

Yet again, Hobb repeats chapter titles, this time from City of Dragons, Chapter 11, and Blood of Dragons, Chapter 2. In the present case, reading the chapters against one another is not apt to reveal much; the circumstances differ much more than usual. The earlier chapters, belonging to the Realm of the Elderlings novels and dealing with beings capable of aerial flight, do not address the same issues as the present chapter (although it may well be the case that the two earlier chapters, both in the Rain Wilds Chronicles, should be read against each other, despite my lack of comment to that effect earlier in my rereadings; some revision and update suggest themselves as worth doing at some later time when I have the time). Still, given how often the title-repetition happens and the propensity towards suggested cross-reading, I thought pointing out the present chapter’s repetition of title bore pointing out.

In a bit of affective reading, I note with some appreciation the comments about accounting made in the chapter. Nevare bemoans but accepts the necessity of bookkeeping as he attempts to stand in for his father during his recovery (206-07); I’ve written on more than one occasion* about my own involvement in that profession, and it’s always nice to see the work I do represented as a needed thing. I spent quite enough time dealing with the opposite, as might be imagined for someone who at one point wanted to profess literature; the experiences have stayed with me, prompting me to appreciate it when the work I do is valued even if noted as something challenging enough to want others to do.

In a similar bit of reading, I note with interest Nevare’s comment that “Boredom sounded so attractive to me now” (209). In my own experience, not least having to do with flooding in my hometown (not only in 2025 and 2026, but also in 2002), boredom is a good thing; it means that nothing is going wrong. Hobb’s character make some gestures towards sharing that notion, such as in Assassin’s Fate, Chapters 9 and 22. Nevare seems to be of the same opinion in the present chapter, and I’ll admit to some additional pleasure in seeing an author validate parts of my understanding and experience. It’s not the only reason to keep reading, of course, and I continue to know that reading affectively isn’t something I should do–but I still do it, and it does help me push ahead with texts I’ve studied across some time, now.

Less affectively, I find more feminist discourse in the present chapter. Yaril’s situation, as depicted in the present chapter, serves as a powerful commentary on patriarchal structures. It is clear that Yaril is an intelligent and capable young woman; her adept handling of the Burvelle household after her return from the Poronte estate is testimony to that. It is also clear that she has been constrained by her circumstances, as several of her comments to Nevare indicate; examples include Yaril’s expression of disdain for Cecile and her railing against Carsina (217-18), as well as her reactions to Keft’s emergence from his chambers (219-24) and what she says to Nevare as he makes ready to leave as an outcast (226-29). To his credit, Nevare recalls what Epiny told him of such constrainment (see Shaman’s Crossing‘s “Séance,” and “A Ride in the Park,” as well as Forest Mage‘s “Forest Dreams”) as Yaril bewails her imminent danger to him. That he does not take her with him as he departs is not a commendation, to be sure, but given his own uncertainties, it may well be the least-bad option available to them in the moment. Additionally, that it reinforces the problems of the kind of patriarchy that Gernia presents, and that of the United States that it reflects, is not to be disregarded.

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* As witness, in no particular order: my biography, a comment about one of my professional challenges, a direct address to my indulgent readership, one of my many holiday-centric musings, one of my several travel reports, a brief poem, one of many ramblings, another of my several travel reports, and one of the many reactions to professional pieces I’ve put out into the world.

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The present chapter also depicts abusive relationships. It additionally details deaths and the physical results thereof.

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The ninth chapter of Forest Mage, “Plague,” starts with Nevare waking with the dawn, rising and waiting to be put to work. He watches a messenger arrive from Burvelle’s Landing, and he sees his father and brother follow the messenger away. The scenes distract him from his attempts at study, and he resolves to bide his time, aligning with the alternative self that yet dwells within him, and sleeps again, settling into a tree-like quiescence.

Nevare is woken in the dark by the delivery of his dinner, and he presses the servant making the delivery for details of the day, learning that a physician has called on the house. The servant seeks to disregard Nevare, but Nevare disabuses him of the idea, and after the servant leaves, Nevare sets to his meal: a small loaf of bread. Nevare delights in it, savoring the loaf slowly. After, he attempts his studies again, finding little success, and he retires, worried about events.

The next morning, Nevare finds a day much like the last. In the evening, he learns that sickness has beset Burvelle’s Landing. The following day sees no delivery of food, only the sounds of another servant uncertain of how to proceed. Two more days pass in which Nevare has neither food nor drink, and he calls out in vain. The next day, Nevare attempts to escape confinement, without success. More days pass, and Nevare finds himself sinking toward somthing like hibernation. At length, Duril rescues him.

As Nevare makes for the kitchen to eat and drink after his privations, he and Duril confer, the old sergeant reporting events. He had, himself, taken the Speck plague, which had ravaged the Burvelle home, taking Rosse, Selethe, and Elisi. Nevare moves to check on his father and is excoriated by the mourning Keft, who laments the deaths and having sent Yaril and Cecile to the Poronte estate. Nevare then begins to tend to the dead, finding the bodies of his kin and considering them, and searching out the other dead. He begins the work of gravedigging, laboring against the stony soil. And after, he eats.

Duril and another servant, Nita, come upon Nevare as he eats, and after some conference, Nevare goes off to wash. The next morning finds him at work as an undertaker again, burying his mother and brother and sister as best he can, acknowledging the ending that has come upon him.

To address the chapter-length issue: the present chapter, in the edition of the novel I’m rereading, runs 20 pages in length, approximately 2.74% of the novel. In that, it duplicates the previous chapter, and if it is the case that that chapter ends a narrative arc, then beginning a new one in much the same mode seems to work well, as repetition suggests patterns. Or perhaps it is the case that the repetition, coupled with the final line of the chapter–“And that was how my old life ended forever” (202)–indicates the close of a narrative arc, something like playing a single strain again before the stinger in a march. I do still need to do more with matters of chapter-length to see if there’s some there there, admittedly.

Also, for indexing purposes, the following: Bellock, Bread, Burvelle Landing, Cecile Burvelle, Croaker bird, Dewara, Dr. Reynolds, Elisi Burvelle, Franner’s Bend, Graves, Keft Burvelle, Nevare Burvelle, Nita, Orandula, Plague, Pomegranate, Poronte, Rosse Burvelle, Selethe Burvelle, Sergeant Erib Duril, Speck, Spond tree, Tulip, Varnian, Warfare, Widevale, Yaril Burvelle. It is a remarkably short list, but that seems fitting to the intensely personal-to-Nevare focus of the chapter and its events.

Once again, Hobb repeats chapters, this time from Shaman’s Crossing‘s 23rd chapter. As ever, one thing that suggests itself to a critical reading (and I do harbor some pretense that my rereadings are in at least some ways critical) is reading the chapters against one another. The present case offers a pronounced contrast to the previous; while Nevare is again surrounded by the plague and its effects, and several characters for whom he cares again die from it, and he suffers, he does not suffer the plague, itself. At one level, this mimics Nevare’s increasingly outsider status; he is separated out from his family by his family, and that separation works at least partly to his benefit, suggesting (if backhandedly) that he very much should leave his background behind.

Again,* however, rereading the chapter and its depictions of pandemic illness in the wake of COVID-19 lends…things to the rereading. Given the work I was doing at the time,** I was not subjected to the prolonged isolation that typified the experience of the pandemic for many, but I was in contact with many who were thus subjected and whose situations were not improved by such confinement. And I can easily, if again affectively, imagine that there were some who, requiring care and losing access to their caretakers, or otherwise dependent upon others no longer able to attend to them, suffered such privations as Nevare experiences in the chapter–and without the benefit of magic that allows subsistence if at the cost of sloth. I do not have to imagine the rapid onset of symptoms, however, or the suddenness of deaths, remembering reports and testimonies of the same, nor yet do I have to imagine the panic caused by them, having felt it, myself.

As a side-note, I know I have not been finding as much to say about recent chapters as about earlier ones in the series. The fault lies with me and not with the text. There is more to be unpacked than I seem at the moment to be able to do…but that is why I have so many scholarly somedays to address already; I can hope there will be time to come back around, and I have to leave something for future projects to do…

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* See my remarks on Shaman’s Crossing‘s “Sword and Pen.”

** It’s on my biography page, but I was administering a substance use treatment center, so I counted as an essential worker.

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The eighth chapter of Forest Mage, “Judgment,” begins with Nevare and Duril returning home after their excursion to Dewara. At Duril’s direction, Nevare retreats to the kitchen to clean himself up. Doing so, he is taken aback by the lack of obvious injury to him after having been stabbed, and awareness of magic at work takes him. He ruminates on the matter as he eats some slices of fresh bread, and he is surprised at his father’s sudden appearance.

An argument erupts between father and son, and Nevare relates his experience of Dewara’s magic only to find his father turning further against him. Outwardly, Nevare agrees to his father’s demands, although he inwardly knows that they will not avail.

The next day increases Keft’s imposition of physical discipline on Nevare, in which task he enlists Narl, who is confused at the directions given him but complies no less than Nevare does. When Nevare is allowed to eat, he savors the meal provided to him, revelling in the sensory delights it offers. He also maintains his personal discipline, studying from his retained course materials to pass the time. The next many days pass in similar fashion, their pattern little interrupted.

One of the interruptions is the delivery of correspondence from Spink and Epiny. Spink shows recovery in spirit although tension with his older brother about how the family holdings are managed. Epiny thanks Nevare for helping to reopen her relationship with Sefert, and Nevare writes a long reply to the pair that he discards in favor of a briefer missive likely to pass his father’s inspection. He also replies belatedly to Caulder Stiet and his uncle, thinking to close out that discourse entirely.

The pattern of Nevare’s days resumes, and while he muses with anger on Carsina, he acknolwedges the futility of doing so. He also fails to lose any significant weight, and conversation with Narl proves informative if somewhat stilted. Nevare infers from what he learns that Speck plague approaches the area, and he warns his father about it to no avail. Doing so earns him only rebuke, and his lack of weight loss earns his father’s ire and censure. Keft pledges greater strictness with his son and leaves, ad Nevare considers himself and his situation in the wake of his father’s departure.

To address the chapter-length issue: the present chapter, in the edition of the novel I’m rereading, runs 20 pages in length, approximately 2.74% of the novel. In that, it is only a little short of average, less than one page or one-eighth of one percent under. It does, however, seem to conclude a small narrative arc within the text, so the length is less a concern than it might otherwise be.

Also, for indexing purposes, the following: Bejawi, Bellock, Burvelle’s Landing, Carsina Grenalter, Caulder Stiet, Cayton’s Horse, Cherries, Daraleen Burvelle, Dewara, Doril’s Foot, Epiny Kester, Franner’s Bend, Gernia, Gettys, Kase Remwar, Keft Burvelle, Kidona, Landsingers, Meat pie, Narl, Nevare Burvelle, Orandula, Plague, Plainsfolk, Prairie cat, Pudding, Rosse Burvelle, Sefert Burvelle, Selethe Burvelle, Sergeant Erib Duril, Sirlofty, Speck, Spinrek “Spink” Kester, Tree Woman, Varinan, Warfare. A relatively average chapter might well be expected to have an average number of indexable items in it, and that seems to be the case with the present one.

For a bit of cross-series reading: there is a chapter in Mad Ship with the same title as the present chapter. As is not seldom the case with coincidences of chapter titles, I am tempted to read the two against one another. As is also not seldom the case when I look back at earlier work, I find myself seeing things that I did less than optimally as I carried out the earlier work. It may be that I revisit earlier portions of my rereading series to update them; I do not know that I will, given how sprawling my still-uncompleted rereading already is. But the idea is a tantalizing project, certainly, and I’ll admit to having done some work to move in that direction, if I end up choosing to do so; I have other things that could use revision before I get to that point.

I note with some interest the physical changes Nevare describes in himself as the chapter progresses. His metabolism alters significantly, allowing him not only to heal with astonishing speed, but also to undertake significant physical exertion and to do so with little metabolic byproduct. Being the kind of nerd I am, I’m put in mind of Dungeons & Dragons materials that made claims about draconic metabolisms and their efficiencies, and I have to wonder if something similar is not at work in Nevare. Adipose tissue is energy storage, certainly, and storing more energy suggests that less of what produces that energy would be discarded as waste; magic is involved in the narrative, of course, seeming here to exaggerate natural processes to some extent more than necessarily to enact things that oppose or contravene them. The thought occurs that examining the text, and Hobb’s body of work more generally, for handling of magic might be something worth doing, another scholarly someday to add to an already long calendar.

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