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The first chapter of the Solder Son trilogy, Shaman’s Crossing‘s “Magic and Iron,” opens with the narrating protagonist, Nevare Burvelle, joining his father on a trip to relatively nearby Franner’s Bend. The approach to the location, its general appearance, and its significance are explained. Nevare confers with his temporary tutor, Corporal Parth, about some details thereof and is answered tersely. Nevare’s father adds details about local indigenous populations as Nevare considers economic details and his family’s fortunes. Nevare’s father explicates some family roles, and Nevare muses on others, including shifts to his own education.

Arriving at the military headquarters in Franner’s Bend, Nevare’s father gives instructions to Parth for Nevare’s education and proceeds inside to confer with the local commander. Parth offers only a desultory compliance with the instructions before tucking into the local canteen for beer and gossip, turning Nevare out to play with local boys, including Carky and Vev’s son Raven. Nevare watches the rough play among them until the arrival of Scout Halloran and his daughter attract attention. The scout, his situation, and his daughter are described, with Nevare recalling his mother’s disparaging comments and prevailing disparaging attitudes about mixed-heritage unions and their progeny.

Halloran leaves his daughter to make his report to the local commander, and Nevare is startled by his willingness to do so, contrasting it with the treatment his sisters, Elisi and Yaril, receive. The local boys urge Nevare to guide the scout’s daughter to them, citing her evident collaring with iron as proof of her restraint, and Nevare, not fully understanding their intent, makes to comply. The young woman deflects Nevare from aiding in entrapping her, but the local boys press them, and Nevare finds himself taken aback by their disrespect and assaulted by them along with Halloran’s daughter. She demonstrates that she is not as restrained as had been thought and works magic against her attackers. The event sends Raven and Carky sprawling, and Raven’s brother Darda flees.

The attack dissuaded, Raven upbraids Halloran’s daughter, Sil, until Halloran returns and pointedly rebukes him. The commotion attracts attention, including from Vev and Nevare’s father. The latter dismisses the clearly inadequate Parth, and the local commander finally arrives, questioning Halloran about events. Nevare makes his report of events, which stymies grumbling for a moment before the local commander rebukes Halloran for having brough Sil with him. A fracas ensues, leading to Halloran laying Vev out in the street; Nevare’s father reminds the local commander that Vev struck an officer, leading to Vev’s banishment from Franner’s Bend. Nevare’s father, Keft, asks Nevare what happened and receives as full report as a boy can give. The local commander attempts to smooth matters over, to little success.

Leaving Franner’s Bend, Nevare’s father discuss events. The latter’s distaste for what had happened is given context; the local commander, Hent, is not good at his job, and Halloran has, in his estimation, erred via miscegenation. He also offers Nevare an opportunity to reflect by way of punishment.

Given the many times when rereading the Realm of the Elderlings novels that I expressed a desire to have a cohesive edition of those novels to read and look at page-counts by chapter, I am pleased to note that I do have such cohesion among my copies of the Soldier Son novels. Each is printed by Eos, and each is a first edition, so I should be able to take them as a reasonable set of writings from which to do the kinds of things I’d wanted to do with others of Hobb’s writings. The present chapter is 24 pages in length, out of 577 in the novel (disregarding front matter), thus approximately 4.16% of the total main text; this is roughly proportional (rounding happens), given that there are 24 chapters in the novel.

Also, for indexing purposes, the following: Bejawi, Carky, Commander Hent, Dancing Spindle, Darda, Elisi Burvelle, Franner’s Bend, Gernia, Halloran, Iron, Keft Burvelle, Kidona, Nevare Burvelle, Parth, Raven, Scout , Sil, Sisi, Varnia, Vev, Widevale, Yaril Burvelle. I’d noted in some of the comments I made rereading the Realm of the Elderlings corpus that I’d wished I’d indexed things better. Starting a new series seems a good time to start a better practice.

Less…stiltedly, the opening chapter of the series does a lot of explication, which it ought well to do. The overall setting is glossed smoothly, presented as distinctly different from the mainstream Tolkienian tradition of fantasy literature. An ambiguous feudalism seems to be in place, admittedly, with references to inheritable lordships and the like, as well as the older mythological / legendary commonplace regarding the magic-inhibiting properties of iron, but there is also a clear demarcation of military ranks immediately recognizable as belonging to later periods, as well as the presence of firearms. The latter two, the ranking and weapons, move far afield from Lord of the Rings and, indeed, most mainstream fantasy literature, going away from the medieval/ist towards the modern; Colonel and Corporal, the referenced ranks, are both noted by Merriam-Webster as first used in the 1500s, and after even a late reasonable idea for the end of the medieval, and cannon appear rarely if ever (about which I’ve remarked once or twice in this series).

Other details of the setting emerge, and quickly, that make clear why Carroll and Young both found things to say about the series. There is, in the comments of Nevare’s father and others, a clear if convoluted honor culture at work in Gernia; there is also in those comments a decided sense of colonialist entitlement that brings to mind Kipling and many even less gracious commentaries about indigenous populations. There are also, as is the case with the Liveship and Rain Wilds novels, concerns of gender norms presented early, which contribute to marking the milieu as a thinly veiled pastiche of the post-Civil-War United States, as I’ve argued. (A scholarly someday re-suggests itself; I really ought to expand the old conference paper and post it. But the fact of the argument itself serves to show that I have read the Soldier Son novels before, even if it has been a while.)

I’ll readily admit that my (re-)reading of the material is heavily influenced by my having grown up in the Texas Hill Country, which makes much of its Old West background and heritage. In the town where I grew up, Kerrville, there is the Museum of Western Art to consider, as well as a fair bit of local history (on which current mayor Joe Herring, Jr., is something of a leading expert); nearby is Camp Verde, the site of the US Army’s camel experiment; not much further off is the Cowboy Capital OF the World, Bandera, Texas (yes, the OF is emphasized); also-nearby Fredericksburg, Texas, hosts Fort Martin Scott; and there are many other sites in the area that report and celebrate (and, yes, occasionally mourn) the frontier spirit. Having spent my formative years there (and going often to San Antonio, with the Alamo, the Missions, and the like), I grew up with a lot of that mythology and self-fashioning in mind (for good and ill); I read even in the opening chapter of Shaman’s Crossing a lot of words I heard in my youth, or a lot of words damned close to what I heard, and I expect I’ll have more to say about things as I read on again.

One other thing comes to mind at the moment: the narrative perspective. Much of the Realm of the Elderlings novels are written from a first-person retrospective stance; Fitz recounts what he remembers of his experiences at various points, as Bee does hers. Nevare is set up to do much the same thing…which does lead a reader to wonder if Hobb might expect lightning to strike again or if she is getting locked into particular patterns. I’ve not read the novels in a while, so I don’t remember fully how Nevare compares to Fitz, although it is clear that he has a more wholesome beginning than his predecessor, being legitimate and actively parented, even if with some difficulties already made clear. Perhaps yet another scholarly someday presents itself; I look forward to the continued rereading to find out again!

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The Solder Son trilogy begins with the novel Shaman’s Crossing. The work begins, as might be expected, with some front matter. Said front matter consists of a half-title page with a list of other works by the author on the reverse, a title page with copyright information (citing the novel as belonging to Megan Lindholm) on its reverse, a dedication, a map, a table of contents, acknowledgments, and another half-title page.

I‘ll admit that I’ve been less diligent in getting back to this text than I perhaps ought to have been. I did read it when it came out, picking up the hardcover pictured above not long after the novel’s release and reading it in short order. I’m sure that, in my personal journals (yes, I keep a journal, which should not be a surprise), I comment about the experience of the initial reading; I’m not able to find any earlier commentary in my online writing I have that still can lay eyes on. And I know I’ve reread the book for reasons that I make clear below. (You might guess from this that I don’t necessarily compose “in order.” That is, I don’t start at the beginning and work through consistently; instead, I jump around. But I’ve commented about my writing process a few times–here, here, and here, for examples–so I don’t need to much belabor the point.) But after years attending to the Realm of the Elderlings corpus (and there is still some work to do with it; there are a few other pieces it contains of which I’m aware, and there might be a few things I’ve missed along the way), shifting over to another series and another narrative milieu…I’m less eager than ought to be the case. I don’t know why.

As noted, I am aware at this point of only a few pieces of criticism that treat the Soldier Son series. From the linked piece (n39), they are Siobhan Carroll’s “Honor-bound: Self and Other in the Honor Culture of Robin Hobb’s Soldier Son Series,” Anna Metsäpelto’s Attitudes to Fat Characters in Fantasy Literature—Cases from The Soldier Son by Robin Hobb and A Song of Ice and Fire by George R.R. Martin, and Helen Young’s “Critiques of Colonialism in Robin Hobb’s Soldier Son Trilogy.” I also presented a paper, “Manifest Destiny and Other Western Ideas in Robin Hobb’s Soldier Son,” which is abstracted here. There may be more work on the series and its component novels at this point; I am still winding back up into work on the Fedwren Project, which I have left alone for too long. I look forward to seeing what work has been done since I last looked, as well as to adding to the same; I do have ideas for how to expand on my older paper.

In any event, while I am not certain why it did so, the front matter of the novel struck me. (Perhaps it is because, with it being graduation season, I have school on the mind, and it occurs to me that, were I teaching a class on the novel or preparing a lesson plan for it along the model I used to get paid to do, there are things in it that would come up for assessment.) Although the copyright date of the novel is clear enough–2005 for the edition I have–it was useful to see where Shaman’s Crossing falls in relation to Hobb’s other works (after Tawny Man but before Rain Wilds). With that information in mind, seeing how Hobb’s front matter shifts into her next series (witness this, this, this, and this) offers some interest; the Rain Wilds novels give different details in their front matter than does Shaman’s Crossing, offering dramatis personæ and narrative prologues but not maps and not always dedications. It might be another scholarly someday, some short piece of criticism, to articulate the different effects on the narratives that such difference have, although it would need to follow my rereading; I’ve read the Soldier Son novels before, but it has been a while, after all.

It might be because of the dedication that I found myself attending to the front matter:

To Caffeine and Sugar

my companions through many a long night of writing

I’ve made such comments myself a few times, and it gave me a bit of a chuckle to be reminded that, in so doing, I’ve been part of a greater writerly community. I believe I’ve noted that no small part of why I do what I do as a scholar (insofar as I was or am one) is because I find delight in what I read. I like to laugh, and I like to look at what prompts laughter from me. Perhaps that is enough.

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The final chapter of the Fitz and the Fool novels, “The Mountains,” is preceded by a brief note about the Skill-roads penned by Fitz. The chapter itself opens with Nettle and Kettricken conferring about their respective next steps as those who had been gathered to attend on Fitz’s passing make their departures. Bee remarks about the various groups heading out, and she departs with Kettricken, Integrity, Hap, Motley, Spark, and Perseverance for Jhaampe after bidding Nettle farewell. Bee’s thoughts turn to mundane matters as the party around her proceeds at ease. Following the Skill-road out of the quarry, Bee is startled by Perseverance’s assertion that they are being followed, at which Kettricken smiles. Notes about the author and about the typeface conclude the text.

The present chapter is not the first to be titled “The Mountains”; there is another such, following Kettricken proceeding through the mountains with Fitz and others in attendance, in Assassin’s Quest. As before, it might be of interest to read the chapters against one another, although it would be a short read, given the brevity of the present, final chapter.

As might be expected, the present chapter resolves a few of the points not previously addressed, although it leaves those resolutions somewhat open. The characters’ next destinations are clear, and there is little if any suggestion that they will not arrive, but those arrivals are not presented. In the novel as in life, there is not a definitive ending–and, from a commercial standpoint, leaving the (tantalizing) possibility of sequels open is a useful thing. I do not think I am alone in hoping to continue to follow the Farseers.

As far as the rereading goes: there are other Realm of the Elderlings materials to treat, including possibly some that I do not have copies of in my possession. Reading them, if they’re there and I can get them, will be a pleasure. I’ll definitely return to those I have, doing for them what I have already done (and will possibly improve upon?) for the main narrative line; I’ll also take up the Soldier Son novels, about which there’s not a lot written that I know of. More scholarly somedays will follow, I have no doubt; I’ve already been sitting on several for a while, now, and it may be nice to revisit them.

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The penultimate chapter of the novel, “Lies and Truths,” follows comments from Bee regarding Fitz’s friendship with the Fool. The chapter, proper, opens with Bee complaining to Nettle of those attending on Fitz’s death, and his continued deterioration is rehearsed. Nettle opines on royal responsibilities and commiserates with Bee about the demands thereof, offering advice about how to negotiate matters.

Bee’s continued attendance on her father is reported, as is a gloss of what Nettle is able to tell her of the process of stone-carving and -quickening. Bee’s continued misgivings are noted and set aside.

Fitz continues to linger, and those attending on him offer such aid as they can, giving memories to him to put into the stone. Not all succeed, and Bee watches as the Fool sorrows at proceedings. She plots to give of herself to the stone in the night, but the Fool interdicts her. She recalls her earlier lie to him about Fitz’s words and recants it. The commotion surrounding the recantation rouses the camp, as well as Fitz, who reaches out to the Fool. The Fool reciprocates, and the two go into the carved stone wolf. The carving rouses, commends Bee, and bounds into the distance, leaving Bee, Nettle, and the rest behind.

As has so often been the case, the prefatory materials in the chapter attract attention. Of note to my eye is Bee’s complaint about the Fool’s names (837): “It is a ridiculous name, but perhaps if my name were Beloved, I would consider Fool an improvement. Whatever were his parents thinking? Did they truly imagine everyone he ever encountered would wish to call him Beloved?” Some might point out some irony in a character named Bee ridiculing another’s name, there being no few ways to make cruel jokes about the name. Some might point out, too, that Bee has a bastard and a stinging plant in her immediate family, as well as a complex question for an in-law; neither “fool” nor “beloved” seem so strange against “fitz,” “nettle,” and “riddle.” Some might further point out that the propensity towards emblematic names in the Six Duchies generally and among the Farseers in particular makes Fool entirely apt for a jester and Beloved suitable for a child. (Regarding the parental comment: as a parent, I certainly find myself expecting that others will recognized the excellence of my child, and as someone who has been a teacher, I find I am far from alone in having such expectations, even if mine are more justified than others’ may be.) Perhaps some kind of translation convention is at issue; Amanda is a common enough name, she who must be loved (with an admittedly interesting set of connotations for those who know their Latin), and Tesoro, treasure or treasured, is not too unusual a surname in more than a few places. Perhaps it is a teenage girl reeling at the loss of her father and lashing out. Perhaps it is more than one thing; several fit, and there is room enough for many.

As far as the chapter itself goes, as befits being near to the end not only of a novel and not only of one trilogy, but of a multi-series narrative arc, much is resolved. There is something backhandedly messianic about it, of course, the unification and immortalization of a trinity, and it occurs to me that Freudian reading might well apply to the interactions among the principals of the chapter’s actions: Fitz, Nighteyes, and the Fool. They map reasonably neatly onto the superego, id, and ego, respectively…and it occurs to me that such a reading would, itself, make for yet another of the many scholarly somedays my rereading has pointed out. In any event, the dream voiced long ago comes true for Fitz and Nighteyes, and their story and the Fool’s is finally fully resolved, no ragged partings left for any of them as before.

But the present chapter is not the last one; there is yet another, so not all can be resolved yet–if ever, in the fiction as in life.

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An excerpt from Bee’s journals precedes “Time.” The chapter begins with Fitz reflecting on lessons Burrich had taught him after his resurrection. Fitz’s continued deterioration is noted, and the parasites with which he is infested present themselves openly. Fitz briefly entertains possibilities of healing and return to Buckkeep, but the memory of the messenger from the Fool he had burned asserts itself as specific physical symptoms manifest, to Fitz’s shock.

Fitz’s routine in the stone-quarry receives some explication, along with his ongoing deterioration. His isolation from Nighteyes tells upon him, and he works on carving his effigy without hope. Amid his efforts, he sleeps fitfully, waking uneasily at the sound of approaching voices. Nighteyes returns to him, then, and the Fool finds him, followed by Bee, Perseverance, Lant, Spark, Kettricken, and Motley. The new arrivals work to tend to Fitz, thinking initially to take him to Buckkeep, but Fitz sets that notion aside in favor of his work on the stone. Almost without realizing it, he resumes the work.

Fitz recognizes in himself what is happening and explains to those who had not seen it before what will take place. He fades in and out of lucidity among his work and the attentions paid him by the rest, and Bee speaks to him of her desire to write down the tale of his days. Fitz agrees, relating his memories to her as he lets them pass into the stone, beginning with his delivery to Verity at Moonseye. Days pass as he does so, tended by others as he empties himself more and more into the stone and his body deteriorates further and further under the influence of the parasites that besiege him. Some days later, Nettle and her Skill-coterie arrive, and after the Skillmistress rebukes the members of Dutiful’s court that she can, she has her physician examine Fitz. The examination concludes that Fitz’s condition is terminal, and Fitz makes a series of pronouncements for how he wants his affairs settled. Kettricken offers to take on much of the work involved in effecting that settlement. Later, the Fool confers with him more privately along the same lines, offering to put his own memories into the stone, but Fitz refuses him.

Fitz continues his work. Kettricken makes a point to tend to him, and she laughs sadly at their conversation, recalling her attempt to kill him and noting the changes the pair of them had wrought across nations before kissing Fitz. She notes her desire to visit Verity nearby and asks Fitz to await her return, to which he agrees.

Later, Fitz complains to the Fool of his situation, the recent arrival of Dutiful, his sons, and his coterie at the quarry, and he notes the impatience of the king. The increasing interior emptiness of his filling the stone with himself and the degradation of his body by the parasites tell on Fitz, and the Fool notes his difficulties with Bee. What Fitz has put of the Fool into the stone receives remark, and what the pair are to each other receives attention. At the Fool’s touch, Fitz is taken by knowledge of the other, but the importance of it does not reach him.

Fitz wakes later in blood and pain, seeing through bleary eyes those gathered around him to watch. He and the wolf confer about what must happen, and Fitz tries to release himself into the carved stone, but he cannot do so.

That the present chapter should parallel the experience of Verity years before is a sensible thing; Fitz is doing very much the same thing his uncle did, and struggling more with it despite many more years of life and its concomitant depth of experience. Some of that difficulty may be ascribed to the parasites ravaging Fitz’s body; Verity did not have that particular problem as he carved his dragon. Some of it, too, may be ascribed to the relative lack of aid Fitz has in accomplishing his task; while Kettricken and the Fool, who had also tended Verity in his efforts, and the others with them tend to his body, and Kettricken offers memories worth preserving in the present chapter as she had in the past, Verity benefited from the Skilled assistance of Kestrel, while Fitz actively pushes against the Skilled near him giving much if any of themselves for his work. It is not without reason that he does so, of course; he has not been so close to them as would suggest spending an eternity with them as a fused being, for one, and they have their own lives to live and others depending upon them. Nor does he have the broader exigency under which Verity operated; his passage into the stone will not save the Six Duchies, but only preserve himself and Nighteyes. But even with such differences noted and others identifiable, Fitz is following his uncle; it might well be wondered how many of the other Farseers will do so in some dimly glimpsed future of the milieu.

Kettricken’s comments in the present chapter also attract attention. That Fitz “never did” see her, at which she smiles sadly (819), that she tends to him with such care as she does, that she is struck as she is by his retention of the fox pin she had given him long ago, that she reminisces with him as she does, all suggest that there might have been some kind of romance between them, had matters been different. As it is, there is love between them, something clear throughout most of the Realm of the Elderlings corpus, one borne of shared suffering and mutual love of Verity, and there is some suggestion that the pair of them are reasonably of an age. It is one of the might-have-beens that pervade any long-term narrative–and, indeed, many lives in the readerly world. Had Fitz been legitimated, had he been legitimate, had but a few things fallen otherwise than they did…but the Realm of the Elderlings novels rely in large part on small bits of history happening instead of others, and had such things taken place as would have needed to, even so late as the Tawny Man trilogy, what else would not have been possible in the later works? And, yes, “it’s just a story,” but it’s also the case that such concerns obtain in the readerly world; the “might-have-been” is sometimes entertaining but not necessarily the best use of mental effort.

As a final note (for now, at least), the present chapter answers the question posed earlier (notably here, here, and here) about who the in-milieu author is. For the Farseer and Tawny Man trilogies, it remains Fitz (with some interpolations of other sources); for the Fitz and the Fool novels, it is Bee throughout, with the Fitz-centered narration being presumably Bee’s records made as her father carves the Skill-stone and pours his memories into it. I’m not sure at this point, having not been as good at keeping notes as would have allowed me to be so, how that affects the reading; maybe I will look back on more than five hundred chapters of writing again and find out.

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An extraction from Revel‘s papers, clearly a directive from Fitz, precedes “A Wolf’s Heart.” The chapter, proper, begins with Bee remarking on her continued visits with Thick and their effects on her daily life. She contrives to give gifts to her new friend until Spark, disguised, takes her aside and advises her against the continued practice. Bee’s public routines continue, although Nettle and Riddle also take her aside to discuss the matter with her in reasonable privacy. When, amid their conversation, Bee lowers her Skill-walls, Nighteyes finds her, having sought her to inform her of Fitz’s situation and to bid Kettricken farewell. Bee relates the information to Nettle and Riddle, and while they are uncertain, Riddle advises proceeding as if Bee’s report is accurate, and they call upon Kettricken.

There is some concern noted as the trio make for Kettricken, the older woman’s condition noted. Bee recalls having met Kettricken previously, and the older woman’s austerity receives remark as she greets her visitors. Nighteyes’s influence on Bee becomes clear quickly, not least due to a stated preference for ginger cakes, and comments from the wolf convince Kettricken of the situation, even as Bee is somewhat embarrassed by other comments not voiced. Fitz’s situation is compared to that of a messenger from the Fool who had reached him, and although Nettle continues to question whether Bee speaks truth, Kettricken purposes to go to Fitz in haste. Nettle attempts to intercede, and Bee finds herself dismissed.

Bee stalks through the castle, making her own plans, and finds herself accompanied by Spark again as the calls upon Lord Chance. When Bee rehearses to him what she has learned, Lord Chance immediately makes his own plans to proceed. After some discussion, Spark bids Bee maintain a charade of obedience until it comes time to depart.

As I started to reread the present chapter, I was taken again by my failure to appropriately index things. I really, really should have been better as I went along about identifying characters in place in particular chapters and passages; had I to do this again, it is one of the things I would add to it. Perhaps as I move into the next phase of the rereading series–which will probably take on the Soldier Son novels rather than the “peripheral” works in the Realm of the Elderlings corpus–I will take up doing so. With more than five hundred entries already made, however, going back and updating / correcting what I’ve done so far seems a daunting task. That does not mean it’s not worth doing, of course, but it’s far easier to start out and stay right than to start wrong and get right later.

More directly to the present chapter: I find a parallel between Bee’s nighttime visits to Thick and Fitz’s to Chade decades prior. Both are conducted clandestinely (to an extent), and both leave the young Farseer in question sleep-deprived and stumbling about. Bee’s are less successful, however, being done outside structures of authority (Chade having undertaken to train Fitz at Shrewd’s direction) and by less adept participants. Too, Buckkeep seems less willing to accept internal espionage under Dutiful than it had been under Shrewd or even Kettricken. But it is not to be expected, despite fantasy literature’s seeming preference for cultural stasis, that a court would not change over time.

Even amid such changes, however, certain points of continuity remain. The lupine appreciation both for ginger-cakes and the sensory pleasures of the now are present in the current chapter as they have been through much of the Realm of the Elderlings novels. Kettricken’s insistence on doing what she feels needs to be done, regardless of the consequences to her, is, as well. So, too, is the Fool’s fine disregard for the demands of others. And, curiously, Spark’s willingness to go along with it all despite her knowledge that it will cost her much to do so speaks to a persistent portrayal of Buckkeep covert agents as all too ready to go rogue…which is something that only occurs to me now, and which probably ought to receive more attention than I have given it.

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Remarks from Chade regarding Skill-pillars in the Six Duchies preface “The Quarry.” As the chapter opens, Fitz attempts to reorient himself after his journey through the Skill-pillar from Furnich. Conferring with Nighteyes, Fitz realizes he is back at the Skill-quarry where Verity had carved his dragon. Nighteyes asks Fitz if he remembers anything of his passage through the pillars, during which he encountered Shrewd, Verity, and Chade, and he reports to Fitz that something is amiss in his body. Fitz determines that he must send a message to Buckkeep, for which he must strengthen himself. He undertakes to do so, surprising himself with what the Skill permits him to achieve in doing so.

Fitz wakes the next morning and assesses his location, recalling his prior sojourn in the area. As he considers what to do next, Nighteyes urges him to begin work on his own stone-carving. Motley takes herself off to Buckkeep via the Skill-pillars, leaving Fitz and Nighteyes to confer. Nighteyes again urges stone-carving, and Fitz asks him after his current existence. Nighteyes points out that Fitz carries parasites, and the effects of them in him begin to show themselves.

Fitz begins to survey stones in the area, still conferring with Nighteyes. As the pair reflect on their first meeting, Fitz feels the memory of it pass into the Skill-stone he touches, and he lifts his hand to find a small piece of it shaped. Nighteyes again urges Fitz to begin the work of carving the stone, although Fitz resists, hoping yet to return to his family at Buckkeep. He rests, only to wake in the night to find the wolf has left him again.

The present chapter is not the first to have the title it does, sharing it with a chapter in Assassin’s Quest. As with previous coincidences of chapters, I wonder about reading them against each other; the present chapter makes the comparison easier than many of the other examples I might find, given how much it calls back explicitly to the earlier time Fitz spent in the quarry. Indeed, Fitz repeatedly visits the campsite he had shared with Kettricken, Kettle, the Fool, and Starling, and he pores over the memories of his time there–if perhaps with less vagueness and confusion than afflicted him when he had approached and inhabited the place earlier. Changes to the location are noted; changes to the characters receive some attention, as well. Changes to the readers are more difficult to attest; I may have been reading the novels across a span of years, but some readers will be taking in the whole Realm of the Elderlings corpus at a crack, and their experiences will be different than mine. And even my rereading, going slowly as it does, will show some alterations…about which I should probably do some more thinking that I yet have.

I wonder, too, if I ought to make something of the porcupine that presents itself in the chapter. Hobb does mention, in the present chapter and elsewhere in the Fitz-centric novels, that Nighteyes finds himself drawn to the creatures, but whether this is “merely” a character quirk or something more substantial is not immediately clear to me. It does seem to be the case that the prevalence of the creature suggests a non-European-ish setting for the novels, since, while there are porcupines in the Old World, they are not in the parts of Europe towards which the Six Duchies and Mountain Kingdom motion; at the same time, the porcupines of the New World do inhabit areas to which those fictional nation-states compare. And the symbolism of the animals themselves might be at play; Fitz, after all, is himself somewhat prickly and self-isolating, and Nighteyes does rather cling to him. So there’s another scholarly someday to be addressed, perhaps.

There is more to do with the novel, to be certain. Even in my rereading, this is still the case; there are yet four chapters and nearly fifty pages to address. I am presently at work on one paper that takes it up to some extent; I know there are many others yet that can be written. How many of them are mine to write, I do not know, but I expect I’ll be at work on at least a few of them, even as this series ends and I move on in my rereading to other things, yet.

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Another excerpt from Bee’s journals precedes “A Princess of the Farseers.” As the chapter begins, Bee reflects glumly on her new status as a royal. The passage from Kelsingra to Buckkeep is glossed, Bee noting complaints about the necessities of royal travel as she rehearses events. A reunion with a maid from Withywoods prompts emotional release, and Bee begins to be integrated into the courts. She and Shun are initially polite but cool after their shared experiences, and Bee finds herself beset by duties and tutors and the sniping of pampered court ladies that she adeptly addresses to Shun’s relief.

Bee begins to settle into routines, one of which is with Beloved, now masquerading as Lord Chance. Some of them also touch on the Skill, in which Bee remains untutored and therefore of some vexation as her thoughts leak out at night. Reunions with Hap and others do ease her, however, even as she continues to struggle with the changes and comes to better and better understandings of a father she has mourned. Bee does take some opportunities to act out, struggling for reconnection and earning some rebuke.

One evening, Bee finds herself wandering the halls of the keep and stumbles upon Thick. From him, she begins to find a new friend and to learn more of the Skill. It is, for her, a strange taste of normalcy she had lacked.

The present chapter reads as sort of a passing thing, one intended primarily to move action along to its next point of importance rather than to do anything on its own. For the most part; there are some rather pointed goings-on that might well be read as toothing-stones from which another series might be constructed. The exchange in the present chapter between Bee and Violet over Shun is one such; Bee even remarks upon being certain to come into conflict with Violet again (780). While, in effect, a bit of petty sniping, it is one that serves a useful purpose–Bee is to be commended not only for taking up for one who had helped her, but also for rebuking scorn unearned–and it is one that gestures towards ways in which Bee is being set up to succeed the Fool. Speaking uncomfortable truths to adjust behavior is a function of the character-type the Fool has been by the in-milieu time of the present chapter, and Bee seems well positioned to keep on doing that very thing.

I note, too, that the present chapter does much to address the tension surrounding how Bee is and should be treated. While her numerical age is not entirely clear from the narrative, and her growth has been noted to have proceeded at a strange pace, Bee is somewhat ambiguously a child. She is not an adult, certainly, but given her experiences and her nature, she is not a child as other children are; she knows too much and too well, and much of it unpleasantly. As with the Fool, she crosses a number of categories, multidimensionally liminal, and how others must react to her is uncertain. Given the presence of the Skilled, however, with whom she might be able to share more (and “might” does a lot of work, here), those around Bee might (and, again, “might” does a lot of work, here) well be expected to understand her position better. She has responsibilities to those around her, certainly, but they also do to her, and it seems to me as I read the chapter again that the latter could use more attention.

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An excerpt from Bee’s journals about reading Fitz’s writings and him destroying many of them precedes “Up the River.” Bee and her companions depart Bingtown in haste aboard the Vivacia, exploiting a loophole in Trader laws to allow themselves cover for executing their intentions. Joined by the Kendry, the Vivacia proceeds to and up the Rain Wild, Bee glossing the transit and the sights she notes along the way, as well as relating in summary the reports of events she makes to those who ask about how she has fared. Beloved attempts again to reconcile with her, to less effect than he might have hoped.

The Vivacia reaches Trehaug and ties up alongside Tarman for a hurried transfer of supplies and crew. Bee is welcomed aboard the old barge and watches events. The Kendry joins the other two liveships, and both are stripped of as much as the Tarman could take on while the ships’ captains confer. All watch as the Vivacia imbibed shipped Silver and begins to transform; the Kendry does, as well, even as a delegation from the Rain Wild Traders approaches and attempts to interdict the ships’ transformation into dragons, finding no success.

Later, Leftrin notes changes in the Tarman as Bee laments the barge’s slow up-river progress. Beloved lays out some of his understanding to Bee as they proceed, and they arrive at length in Kelsingra. There, they are met by Skill-users from Buckkeep, one of whom doses Bee against the Skill at work in the city. Skill-work that had been going on is related, and it is determined over Beloved’s objections that a Skill-pillar trip is in order to get Bee back to Buckkeep.

As often, the prefatory comments attract attention. In the present case, Bee’s assertion that she means to collect and write down Fitz’s accounts helps to address a question I noted earlier that the texts present: who is the author (within the milieu; outside it, of course, the answer is obvious)? It’s not a total answer, however. While it can be posited that Bee herself does a lot of the writing that constitutes the Farseer, Tawny Man, and Fitz and the Fool novels, and no few components of the prefatory materials are themselves cited as deriving from elsewhere (about which some previous comments are here), not all of them seem accessible. And there are some other factors at work, I think, but that is something only clear from the vantage of rereading; I think I’ll address those factors as they come up. For now, it will be enough to say that a partial answer is posited, but a full one to the question of “Who is doing the writing, really?” is not in evidence…at least not yet.

In the chapter itself, I think there is more for me to say about how the Traders mimic or emerge from the experience of the early United States. Some geographical cues are present, although they are only a few and serve primarily to reinforce ideas already present rather than to introduce new ones–fittingly enough, given how late in the novel the present chapter is. Legalistic notes are more evident, I think, with the reference to fines and the peculiar loophole at work in Trader law reported as being at work. In the chapter, the comment is made that, if a ship is underway when the local legislature passes a law, that ship cannot be held in violation of that law; this would seem to be a somewhat merciful thing, an acknowledgment that promulgation of a law has to be part of a law’s enactment and enforcement. This brings to mind the idea of “free, prior, and informed consent,” one applied in international law and by treaty especially to indigenous peoples and groups…something with which the United States has had some decided difficulty but which, as with so much else, is held out as an aspirational best practice. As in other chapters, then, the Traders are held out as something like a refinement of the early United States, albeit not with one-to-one correspondences in place, in the present chapter.

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Testimony from a Skilled apprentice written at Nettle‘s direction prefaces “Bingtown.” As the chapter begins, Bee wakes, assessing herself and the injuries she has sustained. She also nurses her dislike of Beloved, Amber, and the Fool, regarding each as a distinct person and not wanting much to do with any of them. Perseverance tends to her, urging her to make use of the limited time to experience liveships, since they will all transform. He also urges her to use the Skill to heal her own body: “You can’t make it unhappen, but you don’t have to carry around what they did to you. Don’t give them that power over you” (748). Bee reluctantly agrees and slowly begins to restore her body, working a little at a time to minimize others’ comments.

As the Vivacia continues away from Clerres, Bee finds herself more attuned to the liveship and the family that strides her decks. The liveship refuses to return to Divvytown in her haste to transform, and those who wish to make the return are allowed to do so, though they must bear the news of Kennitsson’s death. Bee undergoes a change, her skin darkening somewhat, as the voyage continues.

Bee finds herself obliged to address ennui and listlessness as she is, in effect, a passenger on the liveship. Beloved attempts to connect to her, and Bee rebuffs the efforts.

At length, the Vivacia arrives in Bingtown, where there is much upset. The pending end of the liveships has thrown the Traders into something like panic, but Bee, Perseverance, and Spark are delighted to find Lant awaiting them. He relates how he had escaped Clerres and arrived in Bingtown. Soon after, Althea conducts the group to the Vestrit home, where Ronica welcomes them. The older woman relates such tidings as she has, noting the brewing political difficulty among the Traders and having a small meal served to her guests. Bee is taken by the service, and she is gratified by the gift of clothing made to her. When her identity as a Farseer and the child of FitzChivalry is noted, Ronica exults, reporting developments in Kelsingra, to which Bee and her party will travel and from which they will return to the Six Duchies…by Skill-pillar, with which Bee is uncomfortably familiar.

The present chapter is not the first portion of the Realm of the Elderlings corpus to be titled “Bingtown”; there are three chapters in the Liveship Traders series with the title (here, here, and here), and there are many others in it and the Rain Wilds Chronicles that have the town in their title along with some other words. There is a small project, I think, in reading the chapters against one another; I recall making similar claims about other sets of chapters sharing titles. Contrasting length, reading level, characters present, rhetorical devices at work, and the like could prove interesting; for those involved in teaching literature, it might also well serve as a useful and possibly manageable student exercise. If I pretend for a moment that I’m going to be back at the front of a classroom, obliged to come up with some assignment for my students in a class on Hobb (single-author seminars happen!), it’s something I might well do. Even if it is not the case that I will be so, perhaps someone reading this is; I commend the exercise to you (but I would like citation for it, please).

As often, the prefatory materials compel some attention from me. This time, the notion of following what amount to being road-signs making things easier…it’s obvious, really, in retrospect, but it only can be so if the signs can be read. Use of the Skill-pillars has been…challenging throughout the Realm of the Elderlings corpus; much of that use has been unknowing or in desperation. That there were runes and sigils on the Skill-pillars was only revealed later in the novels, and even then, the focus of the narrative has been on characters not fully trained in the use of the Skill; indeed, Fitz was born into and raised up in a time when knowledge of the magic was waning, and his training (by Galen, at least) was conducted only with great reluctance. It is not to be wondered at that he and others like him would use the Skill poorly, nor is it to be wondered at that a campaign to divest of Skill knowledge would leave gaps into which many might fall. What is obvious to those accustomed to a thing is hardly so to those not taught; the prefatory materials on the present chapter serve as a reminder of it, of the need to check assumptions made.

In the chapter, proper, I find Perseverance’s comments to Bee about healing of interest. (Clearly, since I quote him.) It is tempting to read the comment as somewhat naïve, to think only a child could assert that the removal of a physical mark is enough to reject the power of whoever made it. In context, however, it reads differently; the quote from Perseverance comes as he has discussed his own Skilled healing and the erasure of an injury done him in Bee’s defense. He speaks from experience; while he has not endured what Bee has endured, he is far from sheltered and untouched, so that it is not in ignorance that he comments as he does. And he does not say it is an easy thing to do, either; his commentary explicitly cites the help he has had in arriving where he is, and the very fact that he thinks to make the comparison to Bee bespeaks the degree to which the injury, while not even showing a scar from the Skill of the healing, remains with him. Moving forward from what has been done is a process, and it is one that few can do alone, but it can be done with time and care and aid…perhaps a bit cliché, but not untrue.

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