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The third chapter of Shaman’s Crossing, “Dewara,” starts some three years after the second, Nevare glossing the passage of time to his fifteenth year. New tutors are found for him, Rorton and Leibsen, and he studies ancient languages as well as military arts. In the spring of his sixteenth year, he is also introduced to Dewara, a Kidona whom Duril distrusts and who is described as Nevare and his father make their approach. Nevare reflects on what he knows of the Kidona people and the members thereof he sees as Dewara and Nevare’s father negotiate the fee for his training, as well as the terms and conditions of the same. Nevare notes, in particular, the swanneck (a formidable bronze knife) Dewara carries and the Kidona’s appreciation for sugar.

The agreement between Dewara and Nevare’s father completed, Dewara demands his own agreement, which Nevare gives. He is then obliged to disarm himself to accompany Dewara, and he muses on his father’s earlier interactions with Dewara; Keft had fought and imprisoned the Kidona. But Nevare’s father nonetheless leaves him in Dewara’s care, the Kidona bidding him mount one of his beasts, a taldi that initially proves difficult to handle. Dewara calls the taldi by its name, Keeksha, and informs Nevare how it is to be handled only briefly before galloping off on his own taldi, Dedem.

Nevare struggles to catch up as the terrain worsens, only doing so when Dewara stops and dismounts, showing an attitude towards the taldi that takes Nevare aback. Nevare is himself wearied, but Dewara rebukes him for his complaints about the same, bidding him to silence. Dewara uses that silence to locate Duril, whom he notes has gotten himself lost. After some time passes, Dewara mounts again, bidding Nevare follow, which he does through the remainder of the day.

Camp that night is bare, and Nevare sleeps poorly, waking thrice. Two are in the night; the third is in the morning, and he perceives Dewara sneaking up on him. He rises, and Dewara greets him flatly before bidding them depart again. It is another dry ride, and Nevare begins to suffer the effects of his thirst. He also suffers from another rough campsite, although he comes to believe Dewara has provisions that he declines to share, and he rebukes himself for doubting his father’s judgment. His dreams are unpleasant.

The next morning, Nevare demands water from Dewara and is refused. He then attempts to depart Dewara, fleeing on Keeksha and, after some chase, is caught and his ear notched, to his shame. But Dewara lets him ride on after inflicting the injury, and Nevare sullenly considers himself against events. Keeksha eventually finds water, and Nevare drinks, but he remains ashamed and knows that how he is marked will carry with him. But he sees to his mount nonetheless, and he arms himself as he can amid desolate surroundings.

To address the chapter-length issue: the present chapter, in the edition of the novel I’m rereading, runs 21 pages in length, only approximately 3.6% of the novel. Reading the chapter, I did not feel it shorter, although I’ll admit three pages isn’t much; even so, the present chapter felt a longer read than either of the preceding two, despite the slightly lesser length. I have to wonder if it inheres in the presentation of less familiar things; the Burvelles, while fictional, clearly partake not only of the real, but of real with which I am familiar, as noted, but the Kidona, although described in terms reminiscent of Native American peoples, are far more remote from me. I can understand how the difference would affect the perception of narrative heft; there is more to do to understand the less proximal than the more, and the greater effort involved comes off as heavier writing. Maybe.

Also, for indexing purposes, the following: Bronze, Dedem, Dewara, Duril, Gore frog, Hoodoos, Humpdeer, Iron, Jindobe, Keeksha, Keft Burvelle, Kidona, Lead, Leibsen, Nevare Burvelle, Rew, Rorton, Salt, Sirlofty, Steelshanks, Sugar, Swanneck, Taldi, Tobacco, Varnian. There are fewer new names in the chapter, although the presence of trade goods and identification of creatures stand out.

On the subject of trade goods: I note with some interest the offerings of salt, sugar, and tobacco by the Gernian Keft Burvelle to the Kidona Dewara. I note, too, that the previous chapter reports the Burvelle holdings as generating cotton (with attendant agricultural challenges). Such offerings evoke, at least to my reading, both the cash-crop system that underlay much of the antebellum economy of the United States and the disparate trading arrangements through which many Native American peoples were dispossessed (although it might well be noted that the inclusion of tobacco as a significant trade good also does come up in Tolkien; again, Hobb does have cause to stay close to the Tolkienian fantasy tradition even as she moves away from it in many ways). As such, the colonialist underpinnings of the Gernian setting are reinforced.

On the subject of creatures: the taldi and the gore frog attract attention. The latter is mentioned briefly at the end of the chapter, a poisonous creature and hazard of the local environment. The former is the specific type of animal the Kidona use as horses. Described as “black-muzzled, round-bellied striped-legged mounts” with stiff manes and almost bovine tails (52), such as “did not whinny, but squealed” (57), they evoke such animals as the Somali wild ass, the grullo/grulla, and the takhi (and note the relative similarity of name). Notable is that the evoked animals are distinctly Old World, an interesting motion against the largely US-Western setting of the novel, even as the depiction of their use and their users in the chapter accords with traditional depictions of such peoples as the Nʉmʉnʉʉ and Łibaį́ Ndé and their practices.

The matter of religion comes up again, as well, Nevare contrasting his remote and benevolent “good god” with Dewara’s present but fickle spirits of the land. It becomes clear from comments made that Nevare feels strongly about his faith, that it is not for him a thing of lip-service observance, even if it is perhaps not closely considered. Already, the comment has been made in the novel that a good soldier follows orders, and Nevare, it seems, very much wants to be a good soldier.

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The second chapter of Shaman’s Crossing, “Harbinger,” begins four years after the first chapter, with Nevare musing on the first news of plague. He notes of the day that he had been training under Sergeant Duril with his horse, Sirlofty, both of whom are described. Some of Duril’s youthful exploits are noted and given context, as is his familial situation, and socioreligious norms are expressed.

Duril interrupts Nevare’s horse drills with a pursuit exercise, during which Nevare attempts to track his tutoring sergeant while ruminating on the terrain and its perils. He is surprised to be struck by a rock sling-cast by Duril, who admonishes his pupil to remain cognizant of his surroundings even while tracking intently. Duril instructs Nevare to take up the rock that has struck him, and Nevare reflects on their practice of having him do so.

Exercises concluded, Nevare and Duril return to the family holdings. Their history is glossed, as is their arrangement. As Nevare and Duril return, they find present a chain-gang, criminals condemned to hard labor and relocation in lieu of harsher punishment. Nevare muses on pity for them, which Duril argues against until interrupted by the arrival of the messenger. The royal messaging service is glossed, and the unusual haste of the rider receives remark.

Afterwards, Duril delivers Nevare to his academic tutor, Rissle, from whom he accepts an afternoon of lessons. Following that, Nevare dresses for dinner and joins his family. The various members, as well as those in household service, are described, and conversation regarding the disposition of the family is undertaken. Reports of the children’s activities are made, following birth order, leaving Nevare third. He makes his report and asks after the messenger and his errand, receiving little information from his father in return. Nevare’s older brother, Rosse, asks further and receives more information. Nevare’s mother attempts to redirect conversation, succeeding only temporarily.

As months pass, more news of the plague spreads, and Nevare muses on what he hears and knows. The Gernian project to put a King’s Road to the Barrier Mountains, and its opposition by a people Nevare refers to as the Specks in what is clearly a derogatory term, are noted. The distance from his own life of such concerns receives comment from Nevare, although he notes an ongoing fascination with the topic.

Later, Nevare overhears a conversation among his father, Rosse, and a Scout Vaxton, who had served with Nevare’s father. The social situation of Scouts is noted, and Nevare is taken aback to hear his father overtly angry as he confers with Rosse about the putative sexual immorality of the Specks and their status as “a lesser race” (43). Nevare’s father comments aspersively on the eastern commander, a General Brodg, and bemoans the current state of affairs in the military. He also inveighs heavily against the Specks in general among a rambling conversation about changes and putative progress.

Nevare, after hearing his sisters called inside, makes his own way back inside. The next day sees him ask Duril oblique questions about what his father had said, to which the sergeant responds with remarks that soldiers reflect the qualities of their commanders.

To address the chapter-length issue: the present chapter, in the edition of the novel I’m rereading, runs another 24 pages in length. As with the first chapter, it is approximately 4.16% of the total main text and thus roughly proportional (rounding happens) to the full text. A cursory glance at the table of contents in the front matter indicates that not all chapters are thus proportional; as I reread, I’ll look to see if there is anything signified in the differences.

Also, again for indexing purposes, the following: Barrier Mountains, Bejawi, Burvelle Landing, Canby, Cavalla, Chafer, Cotton, Elisi Burvelle, General Brodg, General Prode, Gettys, Jankship, Kassler, Keft Burvelle, Kenzir bark, Kidona, King Troven, Lady Wrohe, Midlands, Nevare Burvelle, Old Thares, Plague, Rissle “Quills-and-Ink,” Rosse Burvelle, Scout, Scout Vaxton, Sergeant Duril, Selethe Burvelle, Shir, Sirlofty, Soudana River, Specks, Spond, Swick Reaches, Tefa River, Thares, Vanze Burvelle, Widevale, Writ, Yaril Burvelle. There are a lot of names in the chapter.

I note that the present chapter not only makes reference to religion, invoking a holy text–the Writ–but quoting from it: “Let each son rise up and follow the way of his father,” it says, and “Of those who bend the knee only to the king, let hem have sons in plenitude. The first for an heir, the second to wear the sword, the third to serve as a priest, the fourth to labor for beauty’s sake, the fifth to gather knowledge” (27-28). Nevare’s mother makes much of what the faith calls proper, and Nevare’s father gives information about his religion that situates it alongside demonstrable magics at work (while also making it overtly colonizing). This is another point of distinction from the Tolkienian tradition, in which (as I’ve remarked) religion is typically not nearly so prominent a force as in fantasy literature’s medieval(ist) antecedents, although I acknowledge the degree to which Hobb’s other writings engage such constructions. She does not develop practice in the Realm of the Elderlings to quite the same extent that even two chapters of the Soldier Son novels have, however, so that the increased development of religious doctrine in the present novel pulls it further away from its own antecedents, both by the author and in the genre.

I note, too, that the present chapter, being still early in the series, could be expected to offer much explication and does offer much explication. Aside from laying out religious structures (including faith-mandated days of rest), it points out quite a bit of social structure, asserting a markedly class-based system that both locks people into prescribed roles by birth (contrary to the stories folks in the United States like to tell about themselves) and addresses the issue of profligation of nobles; sons are expected follow their fathers’ careers, except for nobles, from whom spring other careers as well as their own. The son of a noble is only a noble if he is the first one; others have no such expectations. There are ways in which this parallels much imaginative work, as well as earlier real-world practice; stories abound, within fiction and without, of second sons striking out to seek their fortunes, often in military service, because they do not expect to inherit (and, I’d point out, Hobb’s Verity comments at one point that he was born to be second, the heavy hand to support his brother’s rule). But in such cases, the second son of a noble is a noble–not so in Hobb’s Gernia, which is an interesting point of distinction.

Also, as mentioned above, the present chapter decidedly situates Gernia, or at least the part of it where the Burvelles live, as a markedly colonialist state. Its laws and religion combine to drive overt settlement by Gernian populations at the expense of indigenous people, who are themselves either pushed from their ancestral lands or made a subjugate, client, even subaltern folk. Their native ways are denigrated and destroyed, with such vestiges as remain condemned as “savagery” in need of “civilizing” by the conquering Gernian people, spearheaded by compulsory generational military service and the exploitation of prisoner labor. Some indigenous populations are regarded along the lines of the “noble savage” trope that pervades much of the mythos of the United States, while others are described in flatly racist terms (some of which center on skin coloring), and I find myself again in mind of Helen Young’s article on the series.

Gernia additionally comes off as sexist. I note that, while Nevare’s father, brothers, and sisters are named, his mother is not yet. (I have since back-edited this commentary to include her name, but it is not yet present in the text.) I note, too, that much is made, both in the present chapter as in the previous, about what is and is not proper for young women of any reputation to do and not do, to hear and not hear. And I note that the Writ, at least as yet revealed, does not speak to what daughters, of nobles or otherwise, are to do, although it comes clear from context that they are to try to marry well (although “well” is left somewhat ambiguous a term). It seems Kyle Haven of Bingtown would be apt to find himself at ease in Gernia, and that is not a compliment.

All that said, I do not fall into the trap of thinking that what an author writes necessarily reflects that author’s belief. It does reflect the author’s understanding of the world, and I, living where I do and where I have, can look around and see and hear much of such as shows in Gernia–and I don’t have to work hard to do it, either. I also try not to fall into the trap of thinking that everything I read ought to agree with what I believe. There’s a lot I don’t know, for one, and for what I do know, there’s some value in sometimes confronting what disagrees with it. In a story, too, having something wrong means there’s an opportunity to put something right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To Caffeine and Sugar

my companions through many a long night of writing

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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