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Following a relayed letter to Reyn and Malta from Wintrow, in which the unsuccessful search for Selden is reported, “Tintaglia’s Touch” opens with Malta unsuccessfully pleading with Mercor for aid for Phron. Mercor notes that kinship with Tintaglia would be required for him to be able to assist the boy, and he is not of her kin. Alise intercedes to pursue more information from Mercor, which her flattery is able to secure from the dragon. Some of the relationship between dragons and Elderlings is explicated, and some of Malta’s own background is related. Mercor reiterates a call for Silver, citing its necessity for the Elderling magic in Kelsingra to work, and Malta and Reyn retire to be with their son as his death approaches.

Elsewhere, Hest is brusquely woken by his Chalcedean assailant. The ship on which they both travel has spotted a sleeping blue dragon, and Hest is asked for how to kill it. He responds only haltingly and unhelpfully, and his captors plot how they will approach and attack the dragon. Hest is returned to confinement, and he considers his situation and possibilities.

Tintaglia wakes to find herself assailed. She defends herself with difficulty, her injuries and fatigue telling on her, and she retreats in anger, vowing vengeance upon the lot and calling for help from Kelsingra in little hope.

The present chapter notes the name of Hest’s long-time assailant, Lord Dargen; if memory serves, it is the first place to do so. I’ve remarked before, most recently here, on Hobb’s tendency to employ emblematic names; accordingly, I took a look at meanings associated with Dargen. Among others, it’s a town in Germany near its border with Poland and the Baltic. It’s also a reported surname, linked by various sources to heritages in the British Isles, and it shows up to a casual internet search as a treatment for anemia.

None of those seem particularly apt, though the same casual internet search suggests “d’argent” and “dragon” as likely “intended” searches (the “Did you mean X?” sort of thing that search engines return). The former seems an odd fit, although trade in silver certainly happens in the Elderlings milieu. The association with dragons is more appropriate, I think; certainly, Dargen’s conduct bespeaks the draconian (I do not ask for pardon for the pun) nature of his homeland and the evil traditionally associated with dragons in the dominant threads of English-language literature. If there is an emblem at work here, and there well may be, it is likely in that association; Dargen is like a dragon, although he is certainly not one.

I note something of a pattern of the futility of threat in the chapter, as well. Several characters find themselves desiring action against others and unable to accomplish it, and it seems spread across the peoples present–human, Elderling, and dragon. What is to be made of it, if anything, escapes me at the moment; it may well be a throwaway thing, although I tend to resist such an interpretation. Each word on each page is placed deliberately and agreed upon by author, editor, and publisher (among others), after all, so it’s more likely to be something, even a small thing, than nothing. Else, why spend the paper and ink?

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Following an extended report from Reyall to Detozi about the changing situation surrounding the bird-keepers and tightening security measures, “Passing Ships” begins with Hest considering his changed and deteriorated situation, put to hard use by his assailant. The assailant’s methods convince Hest that he has been only a dilettante, and he finds himself placed unhelpfully amid an ongoing Chalcedean conspiracy that takes him and a number of others upriver aboard one of the new “impervious” ships, but not the one pursuing the Tarman towards Kelsingra. Hest’s complicity is discovered, and other prisoners begin to rise against him, and he finds himself conscripted into servitude by the Chalcedeans aboard ship, realizing he is alone and abandoned.

As the voyage upstream continues, Hest continues to ruminate on his situation, his thoughts souring on Sedric. His reverie is broken by the approach of the ship that had pursued the Tarman, asking for aid in the wake of having been beset by the dragons outside Kelsingra. Hest is sent belowdecks to ponder what has befallen.

Elsewhere, Tintaglia flies again, her path away from Trehaug traced. She muses angrily on Chalced as she flies, though she is buoyed up by the realization that the dragons have reached Kelsingra. Amid her pain, she feeds, and she lapses unto an uneasy sleep.

Reading the chapter this time, I find myself of mixed feeling toward Hest. He remains largely unsympathetic, musing on what he had wrongly thought himself to be and raging at Sedric and Alise for what are, ultimately, his own actions. At the same time, as he is confronted with substantial physical violence, Hest’s compliance with the demands of his Chalcedean assailant is eminently understandable. Even so, though, he works toward the peril of his fellow Traders, something for which he is rightly rebuked…it’s hard to say that he didn’t have much of most of what happens to him coming, but it’s also hard to say that anyone, fictional or otherwise, deserves the kind of treatment he receives–and which all too many people in all too many parts of the world have endured and still endure, as must be recognized.

The problem I continue to have is with the ways in which Hest reinforces long-standing stereotypes about homosexual men. I can see an argument made that his mistreatment and the ongoing disfavorable presentation (for example, here) serve to comment upon the problems of the stereotype, that the way Hest is treated serves as a rebuke of the tropes he embodies, although I would note that Sedric is similarly presented early on (reference here, for example), and he finds at-least partial redemption. Such might mean that Hest serves as a counter-example to Sedric, and it is the case that Sedric is not alone among the homosexual men in the series in finding narrative valuation. So perhaps the message is that adherence to the tropes of dandyism is the problem, although that message presents its own difficulties, and I am not sufficiently skilled anymore to untangle them, if ever I was.

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A fairly lengthy message from Hest’s mother, Sealia, to him prefaces “City of Elderlings.” The chapter opens with Alise being disturbed from her investigations and recalling earlier interruptions with some annoyance. Alise recognizes her present disturber as Sylvie, who reports the return of the Tarman. Alise is briefed on recent events, and she takes some care with her appearance before deciding it does not matter. Alise also muses over changes among the keepers and dragons in the wake of the relocation to Kelsingra proper and the dragons’ ability to fly. Broader social changes and acceptance are also attested, and Alise finds herself happily racing to the approaching liveship.

Aboard the Tarman, Leftrin considers the dragons’ interest in his pursuit and regards the struggles his ship faces in coming in to the new dockfront, which is described. The liveship comes into the docks, greeted by keepers, anchored, and tied up. Leftrin gives orders for the ship’s unloading, and he confers with the vessel as those orders are carried out. The ship notes that Phron remains in peril, something that unsettles Leftrin, but he lets it be.

Alise assists Malta in finding quarters for herself and her family and in getting them settled in. The Elderling city swiftly begins to have an effect on Phron, upsetting Malta, and the women confer about changes and developments. Malta continues to settle in, and Alise explains both what is known about the city and her frustrations with how the keepers themselves are despoiling it. Malta also becomes aware of the presence of others’ memories around her, and Alise advises Malta that she and Reyn are already figures of veneration in Kelsingra.

Alise leaves Malta to rest, considering Phron as she goes, and she manages to extricate Reyn from where the keepers ply him with questions. She considers changes to herself as she heads towards the docks, observing the work going on there, and her mind turns for a time to the logistics of refounding the city. But she is greeted warmly by Leftrin when she reaches the Tarman, and Leftrin dismisses his crew so that he and Alise can confer and reconnect.

The present chapter does, I note with some pleasure, speak directly to the promise of refounding for those who had previously been excluded or marginalized. The scandal Alise reflects on that would attend in Bingtown upon same-sex romances that are commonplace in and around Kelsingra and the easy acceptance if not outright privileging of those “marked” by the Rain Wilds attract my eye, and I cannot help but think that there is something of a utopian motion going on with it. Not fully, of course; it’s not in line with Hobb’s usual style for there to be no problems, and Rapskal’s burgeoning militancy is noted in the present chapter, as well. But it is still present, I think, and it is a fairly conventional move to make in a fantasy series.

The question of power is one that the present chapter raises, as well. It is noted in the chapter that Malta and Reyn are regarded as being leaders among the Elderlings–which is sensible, since for some years, they and the absent Selden were the only acknowledged to be of that people. That they come from previously prominent and already-wealthy families is something of a complicating factor; while it is made clear from the Liveship Traders novels that they did much to improve upon themselves and seize the opportunities available to them, it is also clear that many of those opportunities only presented themselves because Reyn and Malta started out in good positions. It becomes something of an open question, then, how much change they would be willing to permit, were they installed as rulers; even if they are “merely” firsts among equals, their influence could be considerable, and they would likely incline to replicating the structures that have empowered them. It has been demonstrated, after all, that the Elderlings are humans and all too human; it would not be out of line with such depictions.

I am aware that I am once again writing about a work of fiction and its characters as if it is real life and they are real people. I am aware, once again, of the strangeness of doing so, especially given all that is happening in the real world at this and at any given time. But I am also aware that stories are told and continue to be told, whatever else is happening in the world wherein they are told. And I am aware that looking at stories offers some possible insight into the world. What is not may yet in some ways be, and there is some hope to be found in that.

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After a letter from Keffria Vestrit to Jani Khuprus in which the former notes apprehensions about her younger children and reports news from Wintrow, “City Dwellers”,” opens with Thymara musing on the relocation into Kelsingra proper from the settlements across the river from it. Details of the relocation are provided, and findings in the city that are put to use are described. Thymara notes changes in Sintara since the latter gained flight, and the two confer about their association and the changes still ongoing in Thymara. Talk turns to Silver, about which Sintara muses longingly, noting its flows and power and raging at Thymara that she cannot recall them.

Thymara recalls conversations with Alise that might be informative, and her thoughts turn to considerations of reestablishing settlement in Kelsingra itself. Tasks assigned and difficulties with other keepers, notably Tats and Rapskal, receive attention, as do factional divisions growing among them. Thymara adds what she is able to recall from the embedded memories in the city to their store of knowledge, which helps with planning for the future, and she muses on the implications of the memories she has gained. She ends up discussing as much with Tats, who insists in bringing Alise into the discussion, and they confer about how to proceed as they watch the work to restore the city go on. But their continued discussion is interrupted by dragons beginning to fight and Carson’s summons to address the same.

Elsewhere, Chassim confronts Selden, the latter of whom regards the former with questions about her hostility. Selden assesses his situation and asks Chassim for more details about it, learning of her parentage and the Duke of Chalced’s intentions towards him. Chassim’s own situation is explicated in some detail, and prospects for the both of them are poor, though they begin to reach an accord together.

The character of Chassim Kent, daughter of the Duke of Chalced, Andronicus Kent, calls for attention, despite how little she appears in the chapter. Her description echoes that of hijabi, and, with that description in place alongside long-standing descriptions of Chalced, I find myself put in mind of markedly unhelpful stereotypes at play in prevailing US cultural discourses antecedent to and contemporary with the publication and presumed composition of the text. I am not an expert on anti-Muslim prejudice, but it does seem to me that the linking of Muslim-coded things to an overtly, almost comically evil nation-state does smack of that kind of bias…and I am disappointed to see it. While there does need to be conflict in such a novel as Blood of Dragons–fantasy literature almost demands that there be some sort of international shenanigans–and much genre fiction benefits from clear antagonists, neither needs to reinforce real-world hatreds that were more than problematic at the time of publication and which have only gotten worse in light of recent execrable events at play. It’s a point against the novel, and a substantial one.

Once again, between the present chapter and some other reading I’ve been doing (you don’t think the novel is the only thing I’m reading, do you?), I come to the anticipated criticisms that “It’s just a novel,” that “It’s just a story,” that “It’s just make-believe,” and that “If you don’t like it, stop reading.” As to the first three, I have often in similar cases noted that the promulgation of material influences prevailing understandings of the world and therefore the actions taken in the world. That is, what gets put out into the world sets people up to think and believe those things and to act on them. The stories we take in help to shape who we are, just as the stories we tell show much of who we are; they matter for those reasons if for no others. (I do think there are others, clearly.) And as to the last of the four–I didn’t say I don’t like the novel as a whole. But liking a thing does not, or should not, mean blindness to its deficiencies.

I have fallen in some ways from my prime, partly because of increasing age, partly because of increasing distance from the kind of life of the mind for which I had trained, the loss of which I yet mourn. But I am not so fallen as to be incapable of seeing blemishes upon what I appreciate and still appreciating it. I did my dissertation on Malory; there is a lot in his work (and more in his life, so far as we know it) with which to find fault. I read Chaucer eagerly; the same is true for him as for Malory. I read Shakespeare, Milton, Asimov, Tolkien (yes, I’m a nerd); the same is true for each of them, as well. I have no doubt I could find similar issues in the other readings I do (again, there are many such). That I do does not mean I endorse all or even any of what they say, and it is perhaps a position of privilege that allows me to do such reading and not be harmed by it…clearly, I have more thinking to do on the matter.

I doubt I am the only one.

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Following a markedly acerbic message from Ronica Vestrit to the Cassarick bird-keeper, “Dragon Blood” begins with Ellik presenting the captive Selden to the Duke of Chalced, who comments dimly on Selden’s appearance. The situation of those present is described in detail, and Selden is abused once again before he identifies himself and what had been his intended purpose. Selden also lays out the betrayal that led him to his current situation, and he notes that he might well be ransomed. The Duke refuses, however, citing his seemingly draconic nature as a reason to keep him. Selden notes his heritage and is again abused. The Duke considers his options and the effects that having eaten of Selden had had upon him, and he determines to have Chassim tend to him. The Duke contemplates further, finding himself reasonably pleased.

Elsewhere, Tintaglia approaches Trehaug, happily anticipating being served by Malta, Reyn, and Selden. Arriving, she summons the three, occasioning panic among the Rain Wilders present. At length, Jani Khuprus addresses the dragon, confirming that Malta and Reyn are gone and resisting Tintaglia’s attempts at ensorcelling her. Others react poorly to the presence of the dragon in their midst, and, after some upset, Tintaglia is sent on towards Kelsingra, the location of which is known to her.

Aboard the Tarman, Leftrin eagerly anticipates arriving at Kelsingra as he and his crew and passengers approach it. Reyn starts at the sight of the outskirts, and the pair of them marvel to see so many dragons aloft as they do. Others aboard join them in the joy of the sight, and Leftrin is put ill at ease by the sudden interest of Spit in the liveship. He does consider, however, the pursuit that yet follows, and he watches with equanimity as the pursuing ship presumes to fire upon Spit. The dragons begin to harass the vessel before falling into a game of their own, and Lefrtin and Hennessey confer about the changes to them.

I find myself taken by Ronica’s message. I know biographical criticism is always problematic. I know, too, that affective reading is at least as problematic. I cannot help but be put in mind of a number of more experienced women I’ve known, however, and I cannot help but think that something of the author’s own annoyance at some delivery person or another bleeds over into the text. (Given the publication date of the novel, 2013, I find myself wondering if something like this was at work for Hobb as it had been for me.) Certainly, it rings of authentic experience to me, the lived real, and that is a helpful grounding in a book that makes much of flying, acid-spitting metamorphic reptiles and those they usefully and decoratively mutate for their own ends.

The cold conniving at work in Chalced also strikes me. Again, given the times involved in publication, I have to wonder if Hobb is responding in some ways to Martin and his swelling popularity, Game of Thrones being on screens and all. Admittedly, Hobb’s characters were prone to plotting ere ever Benioff and Weiss got going on the show (about which more here), with Shrewd, Chade, and Regal doing more than their shares of such in the Farseer novels, and none of it is particularly savory. Still, Shrewd and Chade at least presented themselves as acting in the interests of the realm rather than themselves, with Chade being somewhat belligerent on that score; reprehensible as no small part of what the elder Farseer half-brothers plotted was, it was not about them. And, reprehensible as no small part of what the elder Farseer half-brothers plotted was, it was not cannibalism.

Neither is the case with the Duke of Chalced. I believe I’ve commented on the almost cartoonish villainy in play with him, almost as if he joins Mumm-Ra in pleading directly with ancient spirits of evil. He is clearly The Bad Guy here, and he seems worse, somehow, than the Pale Woman of the Tawny Man novels; she, at least, had some vision to attempt to enact, and one not entirely unsympathetic, although the means used to attempt the ends are foul. The Duke, though, appears only to serve himself, and if a reader can feel pity for a person beset by age and illness, it is far harder to incline towards a slaver who will feast upon the flesh of the still-living.

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Following a charged clandestine message to Trader Finbok, “Taking the Leap” opens with Sedric and Carson urging their dragons along towards an old road. The dragons complain along the way, with Spit (the dragon Carson tends) taunting Relpda at some length. Carson is able to persuade Spit down, Sedric following more slowly, and to some merriment. Relpda, however, is incensed and startles all present by leaping into the air and flying unaided. Her performance inspires the other dragons, led by Spit, and the assembled keepers exult in seeing their dragons aloft as they ought always to have been. Sedric is initially afraid for Relpda as Spit pursues her, but Carson informs him that Spit but makes a mating attempt.

Elsewhere, Hest is surprised to find himself enjoying Cassarick. He is also able to ferret out a fair amount of gossip regarding the Tarman and Leftrin’s sudden departure. Satisfied that Redding has had enough time to accomplish his errands, Hest makes to return to his lodgings, only to find his assailant awaiting him. The assailant rebukes Hest for his deviation from orders and coldly informs him that Redding is dead, and he puts Hest to yet more grisly tasks as he lays out his own personal stakes in his errands.

I note with some interest the present chapter’s motion toward the urban / rural divide. Admittedly, in such societies as the Realm of the Elderlings novels present, there is less sharp a distinction between the two; the cities that are shown tend to be port cities of one sort or another and closely linked therefore to their agricultural and similar surroundings, rather than towering metropoles that can seemingly ignore the work of farmers and others in the surrounding lands. Jamaillia is perhaps the closest to a modern metropole yet shown, and even its overbuilt presence differs substantially from contemporary conceptions of what the city is or ought to be. Even so, in the early United States to which I see Bingtown and the Rain Wilds as most akin, there was a distinction between life in cities and that away from them, and not only in terms of access to information and materials (although certainly in them), and that distinction seems to be in place in the present chapter–if with something of a twist.

Like many, Hobb presents the rural as superior to the urban in the present chapter; Sedric’s city life is a hindrance to his understanding, here, while Carson’s rural expertise enables him to be more effective and insightful. So much is a commonplace. The twist comes in the variation on moralizing that often accompanies the presentation of the urban / rural divide and the privileging of the latter. In most cases, the rural is presented as morally purer than the urban, adhering more closely to “traditional” norms of civility and continence. (Yes, in real-life cases, this does tend to align with conservative ideologies in terms of “what ought to be,” and it is an ideal which many rural communities fail to attain, even if they do not openly discuss it outside themselves. It also tends to be racially coded, with non-dominant populations being ascribed “immoral” practices. That so much presents problems is hopefully obvious.) Yet here, it seems that the rural life Carson represents is more tolerant and accepting, if not outright celebratory, of relationships than is the urban life Sedric represents. In Bingtown, Sedric must conceal who he is; in the Rain Wilds, he is under no such obligation.

Does this mean Kelsingra is an incipient Utopia? Perhaps; I do not have More’s work in front of me to make the comparison. But it is a prospect, and I would love to see if someone else has done the reading to find out.

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After a message heralding rewards for information about Alise or Sedric and comments from Reyall to Detozi about new security measures on bird-borne messages, “Opening Negotiations” begins with Hest and his current companion, Redding, together in Cassarick, Hest musing aspersively on the available lodgings. Hest reflects on the businesses that bring him to the remote Rain Wild city and upon his own role in those dealings. He chafes at his traveling companion and rehearses the news that he has been able to glean thus far before dismissing Redding and settling in to wait for an expected meeting. As Redding pries, Hest distracts him with selected truths about his intentions and business entanglements, and he purposes to send him onward in his own place.

Aboard the Tarman, Leftrin sights a dragon, informing him that he approaches Kelsingra. That the dragons have begun to fly pleases him, and as Reyn agitates for haste, Leftrin calms him. He is put ill at ease by signs of pursuit, however, and considers both the implications of that pursuit and the signs of dragons’ presence.

Also aboard the Tarman, Reyn and Malta confer about their son, whose progress and development are described. Reyn urges Malta to care for herself, and they talk together about the area of Kelsingra. Tillamon, emerging quietly, echoes Reyn’s suggestions to her sister-in-law and offers to watch Phron while his parents refresh themselves. The couple note Tillamon’s happiness, and she notes that it comes from her budding relationship with Hennesey, and Malta calms Reyn’s reaction to the same.

As I reread the present chapter this time around, it occurs to me that the novel is still in its expositional phase, presenting materials to help orient readers who join the Elderlings corpus at this point rather than at any previous point in it. While it is the case that such entry does not make for an ideal reading experience, it is also the case that such entries continue to happen. In my own professional life, I am asked to do write-ups of books in series when I’ve not read the previous volumes (and I remain available to do such work for you; see below). It’s sometimes a challenge to do so, of course; series are written with an eye toward readers being broadly familiar with what has happened in earlier-set volumes. But even aside from professional concerns such as mine, with clients asking for book 2 of 3 or 3 of 5, sometimes readers stumble into series later in them, finding a later volume in a second-hand bookstore and having to back-fill. It’s easier now, perhaps, than in my youth, but it still happens, and it’s still to a novel’s credit that it works to ease such readers into their narratives.

I have to note, too, the classist commentary in the final section of the chapter. Being an older brother, I can sympathize to some degree with Reyn’s protectiveness. As I write this, my brother is 35 (I’m 40), and I still feel the call to step in on his behalf. The thing is, I don’t answer it anymore; he’s a grown man, and I’ve long known it. Reyn’s not in a position not to know his sister’s an adult and capable–and he’s got more than enough to worry about with Phron. Too, Malta has things right; the focus of Tillamon’s affection is gainfully employed in a trade not likely to see decline in his lifetime, and there are far worse things than to take up with someone who works a physical job for a living.

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Following a missive with a bitter complaint from Kim in Cassarick regarding investigations from the Keepers of the Birds, “Hunters and Prey” begins with Sintara exiting the river outside Kelsingra to find Mercor awaiting her. The two dragons converse briefly before interrupted by another dragon, Baliper, and Alise as she attends to him, though she is emphatically not his keeper. Sintara considers the effects proximity to humans has had upon her with some disgust, and upset breaks out among the dragons briefly. Mercor quells it and asserts that he will mate Sintara in time, and Sintara is affected by his advances, though she does not accede to them, but flies away.

Elsewhere, Tats calls on Thymara where she, Sylve, and Jerd lodge. The lodgings are described, as are the guests who have called on the young women, and more of Rapskal’s advances towards Thymara are noted. Tats and Thymara discuss hunting assignments that Carson has made, and they head out to hunt, other keepers’ duties and the difficulties of the same noted. They talk briefly of their dragons and the mechanics of the hunt, and, after a time, they talk about their friendship and its changes. The talk does not go well, but it is interrupted by game crashing through the trees, pursued by wolves. Tats moves to investigate, Thymara trailing, and they watch as the wolves make use of terrain to complete their kills. Sintara and Fente then descend upon the wolves themselves. In the wake of the carnage, though, Tats has a revelation of a way to help the dragons yet earthbound achieve flight, and they return.

Still further away, Selden is examined and found wanting, given his described status. His prospective seller continues to praise his dragon-like form, however, even as Selden speaks in his own defense and turns such power as he possesses on his prospective buyer, Chancellor Ellik, and he soon has a new enslaver.

The appearance of wolves in the area of Kelsingra is, to my eye, an obvious nod towards the Farseer and Tawny Man novels, in which one wolf, in particular, looms large, indeed. That the wolves make use of a break in an Elderling road, well, it reminded me powerfully of this, and I continue to appreciate the work done to keep things together as parts of a consistent whole.

As I reread the chapter, too, I once again find myself reading with affect and sympathizing with the difficulty in feeling and expressing the same on the parts of Thymara and Tats. Growing up where and when I did, and among whom I did, I did not experience the degree of repression Thymara attests; although I made an ass of myself on many occasions and to a substantial collective audience, I was largely welcome from birth, and the expectation that I would wed and have at least one child was simply part of things. (I am glad to have wedded and to have my daughter, very much so on both counts.) For Thymara, though, the expectation, as has been noted in the novels (such as here), was that she would die, and even did she not, she would not wed or bear children–and that any such children would, themselves, die, given the Rain Wilds’ effect on people. Even aside from what Thymara has witnessed and been told, she has had ample reason to avoid intimacy, and given the entanglements cropping up around her assignation with Rapskal under the mutual influence of Elderling magic, I can understand her reluctance to engage any further.

As far as Selden goes…slavery of any sort is a horror, and the kind of chattel slavery for which Chalced is known in the milieu is worse. The extension of it into which Selden is being increasingly drawn is worse yet, the formal irony clear from the name of his new enslaver. For Ellik has, of course, already fed some of Selden to the Duke…and I wonder, now, if there is not some parallel to Rawbread and the Forgings at work, though I know that will take other eyes than I currently have to seek out fully.

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Following the text of a public notice from the Bird Keepers’ Guild, “Flight” begins with Heeby and Sintara circling over Kelsingra and its surroundings, along with Fente, for whom Tats is keeper. Tats confers with the dragon, who departs, and he surveys the status of the other keepers and their dragons as the latter work to gain the skies. Mercor’s efforts in that line receive attention, and Tats finds himself responding to Alise’s questions, rehearsing the confrontation that had occurred between her and Rapskal over rights to Kelsingra. The two confer about how to address the dragons as they grow stronger and more capable, and they watch as one dragon, Ranculos, falls into the river and nearly drowns. Ranculos achieves Kelsingra, however, and discussion between Tats and Alise resumes, with her encouraging him to join his comrades.

As Tats heads off, Alise considers herself and her situation as the only human among the keepers-becoming-Elderlings. Outcomes available to her are rehearsed, and she makes efforts to integrate into the society just outside Kelsingra.

The equanimity with which the dragons in the present chapter face the possible death of one of their own is of some interest. Hobb has been at pains at times to present the non-humanity of the dragons in ways that echo or highlight some observable human tendencies; Beloved in the Tawny Man novels remarks to the effect that the dragons hold up a collective mirror to humanity. Alise echoes some of that sentiment in the present chapter, pointing out to Tats that the work of the dragons through the Elderlings of old is “what humans have done for generations” and positing that “Maybe humans will lose some of their pettiness if they have dragons to contend with” (19). Admittedly, there is always peril in assigning to authors beliefs voiced by their characters; it is too much to assume, for instance, that a writer believes the same thing their villains do. That said, it is often the case that protagonists give voice to things their authors would see true in the world, and more than one of Hobb’s focal characters seems to share particular opinions regarding Homo sapien hubris. Whether the opinion can be ascribed to the author remains uncertain, but given that multiple characters voice it with whom readers are encouraged to sympathize, it seems clear the opinion is not one to which the author likely objects–at least at the time of composition.

Things do change across years, after all.

The present chapter is another short one, to be sure. I expect there will be more to say about others as the text continues. I look forward to finding some of it out.

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

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After Reyall replies with reservation to Erek’s offer, “Ending a Life” opens with Alise waking in discomfort and surveying the total of her scholarship, “all in one stack.” She muses bitterly on her situation and the assertion by Rapskal that nothing of Elderling make ought to be in the hands of a non-Elderling, but soon rebukes herself for her angsty melancholy and is joined in that rebuke by the touch of Sintara’s mind on her own. Sintara signals some approval of Alise’s response, and Alise heads out to forage and survey her surroundings. While out, she encounters a big cat, which she frightens off. That done, she purposes to return to the keepers’ encampment with a warning about the predator, thinking she has earned a cup of tea as part of her own life.

It is a brief chapter, the present one, and structurally simpler than many in the series, consisting of a single section focusing on a short time in one character’s life–a couple of hours, at most. In that length and simplicity, it serves to ease the reader into reading; even though the novel is but one in a series, and the last rather than the first, it is a new novel, thus a new reading experience, and so an easing-in rather than a dropping-in makes sense. (This is not to say that a novel ought not to start amid action and suddenly; many novels do so, and they do so well. But it is jarring to start such a novel, and jarring is not always the most desirable thing to do to a reader.)

The focus on Alise also calls attention to her ongoing character development. She has clearly had an existence of her own while the narrative has focused on other characters, rather than remaining a static figure against which the others can be measured. To my eye, it is another iteration of the kind of verisimilitude for which Hobb avowedly strives and which she in large measure delivers. (There are exceptions, of course, but, as the adage has it, “Even Homer nods.”) I have certainly had the experience in my life of not seeing someone for a time and being surprised at the ways in which they have changed; I do not think I am alone in it. Accordingly, it rings true for me that Alise has changed a bit since she last occupied Hobb’s pages, and I like even my fantasies to ring true.

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