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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.

---

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 present chapter depicts abusive relationships.

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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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The seventh chapter of Forest Mage, “Dewara,” opens with Nevare recognizing his new status as a pariah in his own family home. As Nevare begins to adapt, he learns of the imminent return of his brother and sister-in-law to the estate, and, hurt by the shift in his status, goes fishing in an attempt to ease himsel. Returning from his excursion, however, he is confronted by his father, who assigns him a list of tasks he will address in an attempt to strip him of the fat that has accumulated on him; Nevare notes the generally distasteful nature of those tasks and begins to address himself thereto forthwith.

The next many days follow the pattern of Nevare rising, working through the day, eating alone, and retiring. He finds that, although his physical capabilities improve immensely, he loses no weight. He also finds that the tasks put to him, although intended to be demeaning, satisfy him, although his increasing isolation from his family continues to wound him.

At length, Nevare seeks out Duril, and the two confer about Nevare’s situation. Duril takes Nevare out to the Bejawi village that stands near the Burvelle manor. There, they are to meet with some Kidona who have been settled after actions that Duril relates to Nevare, and some of the Bejawi history and practices are noted in contrast with their current situation. Evidence of tension between the two groups is presented, and Duril concludes an arrangement with some of the local Kidona. That arrangement gets him and Nevare access to Dewara, whose situation is related as the pair encounter him.

Dewara challenges Nevare, the two exchanging boasts and insults. Dewara reminds Nevare of his first failure to destroy Tree Woman, citing Nevare’s present state as effective revenge against Keft; Nevare tells Dewara of his destruction of Dancing Spindle, prompting the older man to violence. Dewara stabs Nevare, and Duril shoots Dewara, leaving him dead as Nevare bleeds. Nevare finds, however, that despite the blood on Dewara’s blade, he is barelyinjured, and he and Duril make their escape from Dewara’s final resting place.

As the pair return to Nevare’s home, they confer about events. Nevare confides his fears to Duril, and the old soldier offers blunt advice for how to proceed.

To address the chapter-length issue: the present chapter, in the edition of the novel I’m rereading, runs 24 pages in length, approximately 3.28% of the novel. Although briefer than the preceding two chapters, it has a fair amount going on, seeming to continue Freytag’s falling action in the first major narrative arc of the novel. A resolution is coming; given the location in the novel and in the trilogy, it is not apt to be a happy one for Nevare.

Also, for indexing purposes, the following: Acorns, Antelope, Bejawi, Carp, Cecile Burvelle, Cheese, Corn, Croaker bird, Dancing Spindle, Dappled People, Darsio, Dewara, Dr. Jakib Amicas, Franner’s Bend, Gernia, Goats, Hog, Hog sty, Jindobe, Keft Burvelle, Kidona, King’s Cavalla Academy, Manure, Manure, Nevare Burvelle, Oxen, Peaches, Pepperpot, Plainsfolk, Potatoes, Rosse Burvelle, Selethe Burvelle, Sergeant Erib Duril, Sirlofty, Swanneck, Taldi, Tree Woman, Wind wizard, Wolves. As befits a shorter chapter than the previous, there are fewer indexable items to find. But there is still much going on in the chapter, and so there is still much to point out as present in it.

The obvious thing, to my mind, is to contrast the present chapter with the previous chapter in the series with the same title, the third chapter of Shaman’s Crossing. This is not the first time that Hobb has reused chapter titles across novels; my rereading of the Realm of the Elderlings novels features numerous examples of her doing so, and each time, the repetition invites such consideration. The present chapter does call back, and explicitly, to the previous novel’s, making explicit reference to the events thereof and directly addressing some of their ramifications. Although the novel‘s initial narrative arc does not conclude, there is a resolution to one narrative thread in the series as the present chapter proceeds; Dewara’s story is decisively concluded, and in a chapter that overtly calls up that in which his story in the series begins. The symmetry is not an unwelcome thing to see.

An item of note: the discussion of Bejawi history, including their antagonism with the Kidona and its recent effect (146-50), attracts attention. There is, admittedly, something of the “noble savage” about the descriptions, although that is something that had been broached earlier in the Soldier Son series (see Shaman’s Crossing‘s “Old Thares”); narrative cohesion among the novels is aided by the invocation of the earlier-presented concept, even as such comments as Nevare’s that he “had come to a deep understanding of Kidona ways” (148)–and that in a relatively brief time–bespeak the fundamentally flawed nature of such viewpoints. The blunt presentation of immediate effects of colonialist practice is perhaps more telling, and I find myself thinking it would be good to reread Helen Young as regards the trilogy. Ah, to have the time to do so, but, alas, that life that would let me has largely left me!

Another item of note: Nevare passingly notes the attempt by his father to put in peach trees on his manor, only to have them fail (142). I have commented before, perhaps affectively, about my rereading of the Soldier Son series being influenced by growing up in the Texas Hill Country (see my remarks on Shaman’s Crossing‘s “Magic and Iron”); one of the things for which some of the small towns I drive through fairly often are noted is the peach crop. Indeed, nearby Stonewall, Texas, hosts an annual Peach Jamboree that does a lot of what keeps the community going. For me, peaches are simply part of the experience of life in the Hill Country; a failure of the peach crop is an issue hereabouts. It’s not a surprise to me that an area I read as reflecting the Hill Country in some ways would seek to install peach trees; it’s a matter of course, really. That the peaches failed…again, I read affectively; I feel some sympathy for the workers who tried to make them happen. Less affectively, given the innuendo that attaches itself to peaches–not for nothing is the peach emoji used as a short-hand for penetrable orifices, for but one relatively current example–and Keft Burvelle’s failure to cultivate it, I have to wonder if there is some kind of backhanded comment made that falls in line with the feminist critique at work in the series. But perhaps I am stretching a point to indulge such wonderings.

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The sixth chapter of Forest Mage, “A Day of Letters,” starts as Nevare tries to avoid encountering the guests in his family’s home following his elder brother’s wedding. While said brother is away on his honeymoon trip, tensions in the Burvelle home escalate, with Keft continually dissatisfied with Nevare and berating him soundly, and Nevare offering only silence in return. Conversations with his mother continue politely enough, but Nevare’s sisters suffer for their father’s dissatisfaction with Nevare, and Vanze makes his escape as soon as he can.

A series of letters arrive, including several for Nevare. One is from Caulder, reporting how matters stand with him as he has been given to his scholar uncle and asking after information about the stone that had been taken from Nevare’s body after his experience with Dewara; said uncle sends an enclosure repeating the request. Another is from Spink, noting Epiny’s affliction by the plague; it is joined by another from Epiny, reporting her recovery. The progress of plague at Bitter Springs is rehearsed, as is that of Epiny’s recovery.

Further reading is interrupted by the angry entrance of Keft into the parlor where Nevare sits reading. His anger accompanies the formal honorable medical discharge Nevare has received; it stems in part from the assertion that Nevare had had sex with one of the Dappled People, as Nevare finds when he reviews the accompanying documentation. And, as he considers the matter, Nevare realizes that the magic he had thought himself done with continues to exert influence on him and in his life. He also assigns blame for his situation on his father, with no real satisfaction, and turns his attentions to a personal letter written him by Dr. Amicas.

The next few days pass in hollow discomfort for Nevare until Selethe takes him aside to talk to him in what seems her sanctum. There, amid offerings of incense, mother and son talk of Cecile and the Porontes, as well as their mutual experience of being trapped by their bodies. She avers that she will aid him in returning to himself, and while Nevare is moved by the gesture, he knows it will not avail.

Nevare returns to his room, contemplating its severity and the desire to flee. He does not heed it, but instead goes to sleep and dreams strangely of magic working in him. Waking in the night, he stalks out through the house and contemplates his future for a time before heading to the servants’ quarters and calling on Duril. The two talk together, Nevare relating his recent experiences with magic and relating in full what he recalls of his time with Dewara. Duril affirms having heard of the Dappled People’s magic-workers, the Great Men and Great Women. The nature of magic comes up, and both men find themselves eased by the conversation between them.

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. In that, it parallels the preceding chapter closely, although so much is not the case in narrative terms. It is, rather, something of Freytag’s falling action for what might be called a short narrative arc in the present novel. As I continue to reread, I find myself more and more convinced that the novels do operate as a closely connected series of novellas, even as I acknowledge that “novella” is an ambiguous term.

Also, for indexing purposes, the following: Barrier Mountains, Bitter Springs, Bride’s Gift, Burvelle Landing, Cadet Lieutenant Tiber, Captain Maw, Carsina Grenalter, Caulder Stiet, Cecile Burvelle, Colonel Rebin, Colonel Stiet, Dancing Spindle, Daraleen Burvelle, Dark Evening, Dewara, Dr. Jakib Amicas, Dust Dance, Elisi Burvelle, Epiny Kester, Eron, Gernia, Gettys, Great Men / Great Women, Holy Writ, Incense, Jankship, Kase Remwar, Keft Burvelle, Kidona, King’s Cavalla Academy, King’s Road, Lady Poronte, Nevare Burvelle, Newton, Old Thares, Orandula, Plainsfolk, Rory Hart, Rosse Burvelle, Sefert Burvelle, Selethe Burvelle, Sergeant Erib Duril, Sirlofty, Speck plague, Spinrek “Spink” Kester, Spring water, Stone, Vanze Burvelle, Widevale, Yaril Burvelle.* There is, as might be expected, a lot going on in the chapter.

I note that the title calls back to earlier entries in the Soldier Son series; Shaman’s Crossing‘s “Letters from Home” comes to mind. Readers are once again reminded that Gernia is a largely (though not universally) literate nation, and Hobb exhibits the appropriate-for-a-writer insistence on the importance of writing in it (see for discussion Shaman’s Crossing‘s “The Academy,” among others). Seeing a theme carried forward is a good thing; consistency matters.

I note, too, that the prescription of men’s occupations noted early in the Soldier Son series–see my comments on Shaman’s Crossing‘s “Harbinger“–reinforces a workaround discussed in Shaman’s Crossing‘s “Vindication.” In “Vindication,” sons can be “promoted” if their elder brothers die. In it, as in the present chapter, sons can also be adopted out and put to other work; Caulder has been “given to [Colonel Stiet’s] younger brother, to raise as a scholar instead of a soldier” (114). While Nevare sees this as undesirable, he is also aware of others who have undertaken lives other than those to which they were born–notably Duril, whom he esteems (see Shaman’s Crossing‘s “Sword and Pen“); whether the distaste comes from the persons involved or from a perception of some decline in status, scholar sons being fifth in birth order,** is unclear.

I additionally note the properties of Bitter Springs, the waters of which seem to help with recovery from the Speck plague. It’s not an uncommon concept; Hot Springs, Arkansas, and Mineral Wells, Texas, come to mind as antecedents, though more the latter than the former. Having grown up in the Texas Hill Country (see this and this, for example), I’m familiar with the notion of relocating to otherwise somewhat inhospitable areas† in the interest of improving health, especially after disease; Kerrville, where I grew up, hosted facilities with such a purpose, as witness this and this. It’s easy, within the context, to assert that magic may be at work, but given historical precedent, it need not be so; there’s enough verisimilitude that it’s not needed.

I further note that there is a bit more explication of Gernian religious practice in the present chapter. Incense-burning as a devotional practice is a commonplace, of course, and Nevare’s questioning of it (126) is not at all inappropriate. Having the additional detail, however, is a good thing, giving a more complete picture of the faith’s ways than is common in mainstream fantasy literature. (Again, see “Unchurched: On the Relative Lack of Religion in Tolkienan-Tradition Fantasy Literature” and “Manifestations of Medieval Religion in Robin Hobb’s Elderlings Corpus” for discussion.) That details of other practices are provided, and somewhat evenhandedly, adds to that, to some appreciation.

Yet further, I note some extension of the feminist critique at work in the series (and in other parts of Hobb’s work, it must be noted) in Selethe’s conversation with Nevare. Her reflections on the costs and obligations of motherhood struck me as, again, unusual and good to see. I’ll readily concede, however, that such reflects my ongoing affective reading; I read from where I am and can hardly do otherwise.

Among the critical readings in the Fedwren Project (as of this writing; there may be more later), I think those of Carroll and of (again) Metsäpelto most relevant. I do not know that I need gloss them any more than I have in my abstracts of them, at least not at the moment.

Again, the present chapter is falling action. Matters are moving towards a significant inflection point, one that will come up in the next few chapters. As is usual for Hobb, things do not look like they will go well for her protagonist. But that is part of why Hobb’s readers read on, to see what will happen and how it will resolve.

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* The present chapter expands on a name or two. I’ve corrected indexing entries in previous chapters to suit.

** Given the relative rarity of fifth sons, there cannot be many new scholarly lines coming into being in Gernia. So much implies a perceivedly lesser need for scholarship in that nation-state. And as far as the relative rarity, an older paper by Michael R. Haines, “NBER Working Paper Series on Historical Factors in Long Run Growth: The Population of the United States, 1790-1920,” posits that average women in the late nineteenth-century United States could expect to have between 3.87 and 7.58 children (with allowances for incomplete record-keeping and -survival noted). Assuming a roughly even distribution of sons and daughters (and applying then-current standards), while it might well be common that a family would have five children, there is only a 1/32 chance that all five would be sons, and it would not be common among even those families with more than five children. Too, all this discounts infant mortality, which is known to be a concern in Gernia, per Shaman’s Crossing‘s “Bessom Gord”; the number of surviving and not “promoted” scholar sons would be even lower.

† I don’t find the climate inhospitable, certainly, but I did grow up in it and so am used to it. It does tend to take people a bit aback on first encounter, however.

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The present chapter treats what many might regard as animal cruelty.

---

The fifth chapter of Forest Mage, “Rosse’s Wedding,” opens with Nevare waking on the day of Rosse’s wedding and joining his father and brothers at breakfast. His younger brother, Vanze, has returned home and comments on Nevare’s weight, prompting laughter in which Nevare reluctantly joins. Breakfast proceeds awkwardly, Nevare’s choices of food displeasing his father no less than his lingering over the meager portions he serves himself.

Following breakfast, Nevare joins the rest of his family as they travel to the neighboring Poronte estate for the wedding. Progress thereto is detailed, and the Poronte estate described in some detail as they go. When the Porontes greet the Burvelles, Nevare is again a subject of ridicule, and as he joins his father and brothers in exchanging pleasantries with other guests, that does not cease until he manages to move off to the side and evade much notice. Contrasting his expectations with the presented reality, Nevare remarks his father’s pride in the marriage; he also remarks his brothers’ deportments, finding himself sympathizing greatly with his younger priestly brother.

Nevare considers the coming encounter with Carsina with trepidation as he muses on his physicality and that of those around him. He finds himself moved greatly by Carsina’s appearance, and he is dejected by her reaction to his changed appearance. Conversation with her, as well as with Yaril and with Kase Remwar, proceeds coolly and awkwardly as wedding proceedings begin and are described. Nevare’s ruminations on various matters pervade his description of events, and awards of lands to celebrate the nuptials are reported.

The wedding proceedings turn toward dancing and dining, and Nevare considers the events with trepidation. He finds himself confronted by his father and the Lord Grenalter, forced by manners into a conversation he did not want and that displeases his father. Being asked directly, Nevare reports such experience and knowledge of the plague as he has, which makes him something of a center of attention, to his father’s displeasure. Nevare belatedly realizes his over-speaking, and Keft rebukes him for the same.

Nevare afterward attempts to dance with Carsina, only to be rejected and to have his request for conversation with her refused. He replies harshly to her, which he immediately regrets. He withdraws from the situation and walks the Poronte grounds, finding evidence of a recent anumal sacrifice. It stuns him, and as he attempts to sort his thoughts, he is advised to depart. Returning to the festivities, puzzling over how to proceed, he soon settles at a dining table. Rather than trust himself amid the extravagance, he accepts the offer of a servingman to bring him a plate. As the servant departs, Nevare considers whether he is feeling the effects of Tree Woman and her magic upon him; his reverie is interrupted by his parents’ arrival at the table where he sits and his father’s rebuke. Matters are worsened by the Porontes joining them, and they are worsened further by the return of the servingman with an overabundance of food.

Nevare gorges himself on the food almost unconsciously, delighting immensely in the physical sensations of the food. Keft, quietly and coldly, rebukes him, and he dismisses Selethe from the table as he does so. Nevare offers a retort to his father’s assertions, which momentarily gives the older man pause but is soon followded by a promise of retribution. Nevare turns to drink, musing that excess in that earns him no rebuke.

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 is one of three chapters of such length in the novel, and there are only three chapters in the novel longer than it. That much noted, if it is the case that the present novel is composed of smaller narrative arcs as I think Shaman’s Crossing might be (see my comments on that novel’s chapters “The Return,” “Tiber,” and “Accusations,” for examples), the present chapter does not seem to conclude one so much as to set up what Freytag might call a climax of one; it is something of a turning point, particularly given what comes near and at the end of the chapter.

Also, for indexing purposes, the following: Apple compote, Battle of Dell, Brandy, Brede, Carsina Grenalter, Cartem, Caryton, Cecile Poronte, Colonel Haren, Colonel Rebin, Croaker bird, Dancing Spindle, Doril, Dorota, Dove, Dr. Jakib Amicas, Elisi Burvelle, Epiny Kester, Farleyton, Gettys, Gord Lading, High Temple, Holy Writ, Kase Remwar, Keft Burvelle, King Troven, King’s Road, Lady Poronte, Landsing, Lord Grenalter, Lord Poronte, Midlands, Nevare Burvelle, Old Thares, Prairie fowl, Rely, Rory Hart, Rosse Burvelle, Selethe Burvelle, Sergeant Erib Duril, Sirlofty, Spatterdock, Specks, Spinrek “Spink” Kester, “Stone Endures,”* Tree Woman, Trist Wissom, Vanze Burvelle, Yaril Burvelle. It’s a long list of which many names are mentioned in passing; centering around what must be a major social event in the area, the chapter might well be expected to offer many such details in pushing forward verisimilitude.

A number of issues present themselves in the current chapter. One of them, as might be expected in depicting a wedding, concerns religion. Bits and pieces of the dominant, seemingly official, faith at work in Gernia have been presented at several prior points in the Soldier Son novels (see, for examples, Shaman’s Crossing‘s “Harbinger,” “Dewara,” “Bessom Gord,” “Cousin Epiny,” and “Vindication“), and that this is in some contrast to prevailing patterns in Tolkienian tradition fantasy literature (see “Unchurched: On the Relative Lack of Religion in Tolkienan-Tradition Fantasy Literature” and “Manifestations of Medieval Religion in Robin Hobb’s Elderlings Corpus” for discussion) has been remarked. The wedding ceremony described in the present chapter, including some of Nevare’s commentary about it, fills in more details of that faith’s practices, which is a good thing for world-building and, again, for verisimilitude.

The wedding also contrasts dominant Gernian religious practices, explicitly and in detail, against earlier religious practices, something that both receives attention later in the chapter and that stands as an interesting difference between Gernia and the nineteenth-century United States from which it borrows so much. While it was not the case that nondominant religious practices were unknown to dominant populations in the United States of the time (as witness such things as the Theosophical Society of America and the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn), information regarding specific practices of pre-Christian religions would not have been particularly prevalent.** In Gernia, however, such specifics seem to be commonly accessible, having received remark not only in the present chapter, but in several prior places in the Soldier Son series–and Nevare is not presented as having been a paritcularly diligent student of theology. And they do not seem to have been (excessively) propagandized; while comments about the wantonness of Dark Evening and the present chapter’s comments about flogging and animal sacrifices (90) might well be taken in such a way, the evidence of sacrifice Nevare encounters (101-03) indicates that matters may well not be (much) exaggerated.

Another issue that presents itself in the current chapter, and one that has been present in much of the Soldier Son materials thus far, returns to attitudes toward fatness. (Once again, Metsäpelto is a key resource to consider.) Fatness is seen as worthy of ridicule in the Burvelle household, an attitude Nevare had displayed in abundance in his interactions with Gord throughout Shaman’s Crossing (about which some remark is made in my comments on “Homeward Bound“); it should not come as a surprise that he, having become fat, is subjected to it, even if it can be said that nobody should be ridiculed thusly. It does lead him towards some self-recrimination; although he knows himself to be muscled underneath his fat (87), he also finds himself joining with and agreeing with others as they condemn him for his appearance, including his prospective father-in-law (92-93). But it is not only the fact of the fatness itself that prompts condemnation, nor even yet the implications (erroneous, but still understood) of laziness and lack of care that accompany it; the simple fact that Nevare pays the level of attention to his food that he does earns scorn. At the breakfast prior to the wedding, in which Nevare attempts to moderate himself, he ends up annoying his father and elder brother with the time spent in eating (84-85); after he is overserved and constrained to eat, he revels in the physical experience of the food and is rebuked for it (108-09). Eating little, he is shamed; eating much, he is shamed. There is no good course of action for him to take–although, as Nevare wryly remarks, being overindulgent in drink does not earn him scorn. Some other comment may be embedded in that fact, some other message to be found, some other scholarly someday to explore in time, depending on what else comes.

Yet another issue that presents itself in the current chapter is that of politics. Nevare notes early in the chapter that his father “and Lord Poronte, arms linked, move through the gathering, greeting the guests. They were a powerful duo, and their alliance through the marriage would make them even more formidable in the Midlands. They paraded as if they were the happy couple rather than their offspring” (87). Such might well be expected; in a hierarchical feudal system, marriages among nobles are trade arrangements more than they are anything else, and the expansion and consolidation of power bases is a powerful motivator. Nor yet is it unexpected that there might come letters from the monarch expanding the holdings of allied families, the importance of which does not escape Nevare’s attention: “I suddenly realized that this was how King Troven encouraged alliances between the new noble houses, thus keeping their loyalty safely in his pocket” (91). It also calls back to something Captain Maw had discussed with Nevare (see Shaman’s Crossing‘s “Crossing“), that “The real power lay not in the new nobles and their sons who would folloow wherever the king led, but in the ranks of the military who felt loyalty and alliance to the new nobles” (96). It further, although Nevare does not comment on the idea, keeps the newer nobles focused outward, as increasing the extent of the colonial periphery allows more possibility of their own holdings’ expansion. In the long term, such a strategy is doomed to failure; there is a limit to the land that can be governed in such a way. In the short term, however, it works well, or well enough, for those for whom it works.

A final issue to consider in the present chapter is that of family dynamics among the eastern Burvelles. The sheer vehemence with which Keft regards Nevare is…unsettling to read. That Selethe seems similarly unsettled is…telling, I think. It is a far cry from the reasonable figure present at the beginning of the Soldier Son novels (see Shaman’s Crossing‘s “Magic and Iron“), and the shift in character sits oddly as I reread. I have to wonder if the feminist critiques present in the series (see the present novel’s “Forest Dreams” and Shaman’s Crossing‘s “Séance” for discussion) are finding reiteration and enhancement in Keft, and I have to wonder if this is, in fact, consistent with the early- and already-demonstrated problems in the character (see, again, Shaman’s Crossing‘s “Magic and Iron,” as well as its “Harbinger,” “The Return,”and elsewhere). I suppose it’s another scholarly someday, or an addition to the Fedwren Project, to treat as much.

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* A small note: while Hobb is far from the first to comment on the persistence of stone, the fact of stones remaining in place across time is something that pops up an awful lot in her corpus. It is, perhaps, a bit of a joke that she brings it up in the present chapter.

** A couple of things, here: 1) For better or worse, (Protestant to Evangelical) Christianity was the dominant religious practice in the United States in the nineteenth century, particularly as depicted in those venues most likely to be familiar to Hobb’s presumed primary readership; and 2) This is as distinct from knowledge about the practices of the Plainsfolk, who are, because Gernia has problems, not recognized as being really Gernian, their subjugated status making the comparison between their beliefs and the prior beliefs of the Gernian public not really applicable.

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