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

---

The next chapter, “Shakedown,” begins with Amber grousing about the cramped quarters she shares with Jek and Althea aboard the Paragon. Althea offers some wry counsel before lapsing into musings on her own difficulties. The ship is sailing well enough, but the crewman Haff is presenting her problems. Althea and Amber confer about their respective problems–Amber’s are less prosaic than Althea’s–finding little ease therein.

Aboard the Vivacia, Gankis reports to Kennit that there is trouble in Divvytown; Kennit realizes the town has been raided. As he makes for the deck, he is harangues by the wizardwood charm at his wrist, which reminds him that such events have happened for him before. He surveys the damage and, somewhat reluctantly, puts in at the ravaged town, Sorcor and the Marietta joining him. The survivors begin to show their displeasure with Kennit, and matters grow quite tense; both Etta and Wintrow position themselves to defend him from them. Surprisingly, Wintrow speak up in Kennit’s defense, rebuking the survivors who want only to hide from the next depredation. The crowd begins to rally to Kennit–for the most part; one of the leaders attacks Wintrow, who responds with lethal force, provoking a brief melee that leaves the pirate crews victorious.

As Kennit begins to take his crew away, they survivors plead with them–and Wintrow again rebukes them. Compelled by his voice and words, the survivors agree to follow his and Kennit’s direction–and Kennit ensures that it is forthcoming as he begins to cement his nascent kingly status.

The present chapter seems to present a change in Wintrow–not so much in his use of violence, really, as in his adoption of Kennit’s ideas. Whether this is Kennit corrupting the boy, Wintrow growing further into adolescence–with its absolute certainties of how to make the world better–or perhaps some legacy of his religious training bidding him believe that he is better than the ragged survivors of a ruined shantytown is unclear to me as I read the chapter again. Perhaps it is some combination of the three; certainly, it serves Kennit’s plans, redeeming his failures in the situation–failure the pirate himself acknowledges–and helping him to secure yet more renown for himself as he works toward putative kingship. But at least his ideas range past those of hereditary monarchs Regal and Cosgo, whose ideas about rule seem to center on self-gratification…

Send a little love my way?

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

---

The following chapter, “Bingtown Convergence,” begins with Serilla considering the Satrap’s situation and her own among the Chalcedean fleet. She has managed to gather a fair bit of power to herself, although she yet feels the trauma of her experiences with the Chalcedean captain. She does, however, exult in being in position to command the Satrap.

In Bingtown, the ringing of the town bell occasions tumult as Traders’ families rush to answer its summons. One Trader reports having seen an incoming Chalcedean fleet, and the town begins to prepare against attack; Selden and Malta make to report to the bucket brigades that begin to form, and Malta muses sourly on the wasted opportunities and missed chances of her life.

Aboard the liveship Kendry, Reyn Khuprus and Grag Tenira confer. They commiserate regarding the Vestrit women they love before turning to politics. Grag voices the thought of leaving the Traders’ life behind, earning some rebuke from Reyn. Grag goes forward to confer with the liveship, and Reyn muses on his circumstances. The dragon continues to trouble him, aggravated by his having violated his agreement with his mother, and works to overwhelm his being with visions of crafted memory. The liveship on which he sails as he mulls over ancestral wrongs also regards him differently, and the crew marks the change.

Serilla greets the Bingtown fleet in the Satrap’s name and is taken aboard a liveship. After she voices her concerns for the Satrap, Restart offers her the hospitality of his home, and Serilla begins to plot against him for his assumption about her helplessness.

I am struck in the present chapter, as I perhaps ought to have been previously in the reread, by the parallels to the United States that Bingtown and the Rain Wilds offer. Both colonies long exploited for economic gain that begin to chafe under the changing terms of remote rule, both with troubled settlement and immigration histories, both based on genocide of which a great many people remain ignorant–and with other strong North American parallels, to boot–they offer an (inexact) coincidence I really ought to have noticed or remembered noticing before. And I’m sure that someone more up on colonial history than I am would have a fair bit more to say about the matter; I think it’d be an interesting read.

It’s coming up on my daughter’s birthday. Send her a present?

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

---

The next chapter, “Departure of the Paragon,” opens with Amber, Althea, and Brashen conferring about their status and that of the Paragon. They fall into an old pattern before Amber changes the subject to Lavoy, whose conduct has brought the flaws in their ill-matched crew to the fore. The ship fares little better, having reacted timorously to every change in course during sea trials, and the ship’s fear infects the crew.

Ashore, Restart conducts Ronica, Keffria, Malta, and Selden to see the Paragon off. Malta muses on the disjunction between her station’s demands and the restrictions of her family’s penury. The family greets the liveships they pass before coming before Paragon, where Brashen–now Captain Trell–greets them and welcomes them aboard. Malta considers the crew, including her aunt and Amber, and marks an exchange between the two as she remains above deck while others go below. Malta converses somewhat uneasily with Amber, unsettled by her oddness.

The Paragon is brought into the conversation and prophesies Malta’s death. She suddenly finds herself in a strange void, pulled between opposing forces and struggling to remain herself amid them. Outwardly, though, there is no show of the struggle, and onlookers think only that she is somewhat addled by the excitement of the liveship’s launch. Soon after, however, boats from the surrounding liveships are sent to help tow the Paragon out where sails can be set and the ship can get fully underway; the crew and well-wishers say goodbye to one another, and the ship leaves, sped by the Vestrits’ prayers.

As I have written the rereading entries for the Liveship Traders novels, I have found myself concerned with pronouns. More than usually, they are an issue of concern, and I find myself caught between tradition and accuracy. Traditionally, ships take feminine pronouns in English, including ships with masculine names. But this also only applies to inanimate vessels, which the liveships are not quite. Although they are not alive, as such, they do seem to have their own personalities and existences, and while sex is not necessarily a concern for the vessels–being built, the applicability of the term is questionable–gender identity certainly is. But how much of that gender identity is imposed upon the liveships by virtue of their construction–and the process of their quickening, which requires the deaths of family and is not always of a unified gender identity–and how much of it is accepted and adopted by them is unclear.

It might well be thought that I am worrying too much about the issue with the books. I can already hear objections being raised, many of which are…unkindly put. (I live and have lived where I do, with and among whom I do, and while I know stereotypes are not reality, I also know there are some folks who seem to do their damnedest to enact them. Pardner.) But I know that it is important that I get things right in the world in which I live, where people do suffer indignity from having their preferred forms of address ignored. I do not want to show disrespect in such ways, so I need to practice. How fortunate, then, that I have fiction with which to do so!

I can still use your help!

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

---

A chapter titled “Kingdom’s Foundation” follows, and it opens with the Vivacia considering recent events with Kennit, her hold full and his designs in progress. The ship relishes Wintrow’s accounts of happenings ashore as Kennit tours his burgeoning fleet, but she even more relishes Kennit’s attentions to her, and she watches eagerly as he reviews the settlement at Askew, where the Fortune is harbored. Wintrow is not so sanguine when he speaks with her about Kennit’s growing governance, and the ship is somewhat put off by his skepticism of Kennit. But Wintrow absents himself from the foredeck before Kennit returns to the ship and calls upon her at the figurehead again; they confer about Etta and Wintrow before Kennit beguiles the ship with a gift.

Wintrow and Etta confer over seized manuscripts in Wintrow’s cabin aboard the Vivacia. He has her read, and she succeeds, although she has not come to that success easily; Wintrow rehearses teaching her, which had led to some decidedly uncomfortable thoughts and conversations. But the success is elation for him, and for her.

When Kennit retires to his cabin after seeing to his cargo, he finds Etta waiting for him. When she reads to him, noting her ability and Wintrow’s advice to read more widely to practice–without guidance–he is taken aback; he intends that the two spend more time together, and the seeming completion of the assigned task of teaching Etta to read inhibits that. Kennit directs Etta to spend more time with Wintrow, to “teach him,” implying that she should offer herself to him sexually. What Etta does, instead, is begin to teach Wintrow how to fight, coming to his room in the night to give him a knife and to begin their lessons.

For someone who is as perceptive as Kennit often is, he seems in the present chapter to have woefully misjudged Etta. There is perhaps irony to be found in it, especially that he is depicted as making much of Etta being more than her background to Wintrow even as he expects she will be with Wintrow as her background suggests she should be, that he has sought to be beloved and then does not expect that others will act towards him as if they love him. This is not to say he should be pitied, of course; he should not. But it is interesting to see such a failure in Kennit, something that could be taken by a new reader as a foreshadowing of his end. Whether it is or not, this rereading may discuss–later.

New month, old request: I can still use your support.

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

---

The succeeding chapter, “Compromises,” begins with Keffria and Rache working on a dress for Malta in preparation for a formal event. Malta complies willingly enough, although she chafes at their straitened circumstances. Conversation turns to Reyn and the lack of contact from the Khuprus family, and Malta finds herself obliged to consider the fact that every man on whom she has thought to rely has abandoned her when she has had need. She determines to enter the coming event, a ball at which she will be presented as a young adult, on her own; Keffria questions the propriety, but Ronica affirms the gesture.

Althea walks the liveship docks in Bingtown, hampered by the skirt she wears as a bare concession to propriety while in town. She and the liveship Kendry confer, the ship offering to take a message to Grag Tenira along the next run up the Rain Wild River. They confer regarding the Paragon, with the Kendry remarking that the general liveships’ opinion is that the Paragon is to blame for many of the troubles that have befallen the ship.

Althea reflects upon the work done to ready the Paragon, no small amount of it driven by Amber’s influence over various sectors of the Bingtown population. She also notes that Brashen has hired a first mate of his own choosing, a brute named Lavoy, and that she has been assigned as second mate in the meantime. Amber, too, will sail aboard the Paragon, having earned the right and been assigned as the ship’s carpenter; Jek, a woman from the Six Duchies, will also join the crew. Althea considers the strange and uncomfortable circumstances, which extend to the crew, as she boards the Paragon and reports to Lavoy. He orders her to see to stowing cargo with a crew of six; she takes it for the challenge it is, and goes below, working with her crew to arrange the incoming supplies to their best effect. She assesses the crew as she works, noting problems and bright spots, and Lavoy finds himself pleased with his subordinate’s work. When, at length, Althea is done, she reports to the captain, Brashen, noting her concerns; Brashen notes his plan to address them, with Paragon putting in darkly.

In the Rain Wilds, the Khuprus family confers, with Reyn rebuked by his older brother Bendir and Jani not entirely pleased with either. Bendir comments about the family finances, occasioning sharp comments from Reyn, in turn, and Jani steps in to reassert her authority over both of her sons. Some of the source of the Paragon‘s troubles is remarked upon; the ship was built from “mixed plank,” making it inherently unstable, and the likely over-loading of the ship by the Ludluck Traders did the rest. So is the threat of piracy coming to the Rain Wild River, with the Vivacia confirmed to be in Kennit’s hands and the Ringsgold rumored to be vanished. Reyn rages against the continued depredations of the Satrap and against Bendir’s reluctance to lead resistance. Jani, surprisingly, agrees with Reyn, and plans to foment rebellion begin. Reyn also tries to argue for access to the dragon that speaks in his mind, unsuccessfully, though an arrangement is reached that allows him some freedoms in exchange for his relinquishing claim on the last remaining wizardwood log. After Reyn agrees to the terms and departs, Jani confers with Bendir, bidding him dispose of the dragon once Reyn is away.

At night, Amber confers with the anchored Paragon. The ship voices concerns about being unable to see and asks about Amber’s work on the Ophelia‘s hands. Paragon presses Amber to recarve the figurehead into a new form that can see; she is hesitant to make the attempt, fearful of working badly or doing worse, but she agrees to consider the work.

The attitude towards blame in the present chapter is of interest. Malta notes that her father’s absence may not be his fault, but it is still felt, and she must still move away from relying on others. The liveships believe the Paragon caused the problems that befell, while the Khuprus family knows some of the blame for the ship and its situation is theirs–though they do not admit to all of it. Rereading, I am put in mind of the talk of “personal responsibility” that crops up every so often, usually when there is some motion towards addressing systemic inequities that have and have had generational impacts. And I remain uncertain how best to respond to such things, although I note that 1) not everyone has the capability of choosing well and 2) a person may well choose from a menu without being the one who sets the menu. You’re not likely to get sushi at a burger joint, after all, and if you didn’t drive…

I’ve also had to replace my computer; help offset the cost so I can keep doing this for you?

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

---

The next chapter, “The Launch of the Paragon,” opens with Brashen reviewing the final repairs and refitting conducted on the Paragon before the ship can be floated. He mulls over the question of disciplining the vessel, which he had discussed with Amber and Althea previously; their discussion is rehearsed. Their initial foray is also rehearsed. So is the plan for floating the ship and addressing likely further repairs. Brashen assigns Althea to monitor below-decks action; Amber will remain at the figurehead to handle the strange moodiness of the ship. That done, he signals for the plans to begin, and the ship starts to move.

The ship is disquieted by the return to the sea; Amber works to soothe the Paragon. The ship perceives obstacles to being floated and calls them out, initially to disbelief, but soon enough to acceptance, and the work of the on-shore crew and offshore barge pull the ship out from the beach into the surf. Pumping and caulking begin in earnest. The ship is righted, exulting in being afloat again even amid the fear of unseen dangers, and secured to the work barge as timbers align, planking swells, and caulking continues. The ship’s conversation with Amber grows strained, as if Paragon is a moody boy amid the throes of puberty, and as Amber withdraws, Clef approaches and reproaches the ship.

Below decks, the pump crews are rotated. Brashen and Althea confer about progress and prospects. After, she moves off to survey the damage occasioned by re-righting the long off-kilter vessel. Berthing receives consideration, both aboard the Paragon and for the ship; Brashen purposes to put in with the other liveships, while Althea expresses concern regarding that arrangement. He acknowledges is, put means to proceed, anyway, proud captain of a ship at last.

The Paragon remains aware of what transpires on and below deck. The process of realignment continues, considered closely. The ship begins to take a peculiar pleasure in being captained once again.

The Liveship Traders series makes much of anthropomorphism, obviously. Ships speaking through the mouths carved for them, noting thoughts and feelings much like those of their crews, is a blunt instantiation of the device. The present chapter, though, seems to be a better example of it than most. Something in it rings true to me; something in the depiction of a ship exulting in returning to sailing seems somehow right to me. I know it’s silly in the sense that I should not be an affective reader, and I know it’s fraught from the perspective of a rereading that knows whereof the liveships are made in milieu. Still, I find myself thinking “Yes, that’s it!” as I read the chapter again–as I have several times elsewhere in the book and in the corpus of which it is part.

I can always use your support.

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

---

The succeeding chapter, “The Ringsgold,” begins with the serpents Maulkin and Shreever regarding their growing tangle. More serpents come to join them; some remain feral, some regain identities, and some languish between the two states. They confer about their progress and their needs; they also confer about “the silver provider” that has confused and assailed them. Conversation among the serpents leads to the idea that such as “the silver provider” have forgotten themselves much as many of the serpents had, and they purpose to make one such return to itself as they had to themselves.

The attempt goes poorly. Despite the serpents’ imprecations and assaults, the ship they pursue gives no sign of knowing them. The serpents drag the ship under, killing the crew–but reawakening the dragon within the wizardwood ship, which claims to speak with the voices of the dead. The ship tells what it knows of its history and the cataclysm that led to its situation. It asks to be consumed by the surrounding serpents, ended thus and freed from the torment and enslavement it has learned it suffers. The serpents oblige, and memories flood into them–including, for Shreever, memories of flight.

As before, the interludes focusing on the serpents serve to remind readers that other intelligences than human inhabit the Realm of the Elderlings’ milieu. The confirmation in the present chapter of the nature of wizardwood and the liveships is striking, perhaps, although, if memory serves, it has been amply foreshadowed by this point in the series. What it portends for the other liveships that have featured in the novels, the Vivacia and the Paragon, will be worth attention as the reread continues…

We’re still handling medical expenses and could use your help.

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

A content warning regarding sexual assault is in order here.

---

The following chapter, “Consequences,” opens with Serilla rehearsing her recent circumstances. Her efforts to resist the depredations inflicted upon her had been futile, and she had been abused with seeming nonchalance by the Chalcedean captain upon whose vessel she and the Satrap had embarked.

At length, Serilla is returned to the Satrap. He is filthy and ill, and Serilla upbraids him bitterly. She contemplates killing him before he opines that his death will only occasion her total surrender to the ship’s crew. She also notes that his current political position is fragile; he is away from his seat of power, and others doubtlessly plot to place themselves upon it in his absence. When he comments that he assumes she will have to be bribed, she agrees and begins to lay out some means of securing her independence and future security, holding the Satrap’s care against his agreement to do as she bids him.

The blithe disdain Serilla reports of her Chalcedean rapist and abuser is telling, speaking to a theme present in the Liveship Traders novels and elsewhere in Hobb’s Elderlings corpus: the idea of people as property dehumanizes those who presume to hold the “property” more than those who are held. That is, those who are enslaved may be dehumanized by their conditions, but those who enslave are made even worse; the former may be pitied and should be aided, but the latter deserve no such consideration, save only (and not necessarily even) in extreme circumstances. Serilla responds to her assaults in ways that those better informed regarding trauma theory than I might more meaningfully address, but those responses are not to be scoffed at or rebuked; what should be, and in the context of the novels is, is the (largely patriarchal and misogynistic) attitude that allows for such assaults to take place. It manifests to some degree in the Haven household, as depicted in Ship of Magic, with Keffria’s husband expecting deference even in error and physically enforcing his will–only on those who could not resist the physical attack. And it is evidenced in the deplorable words of the Satrap that claim rape is no crime, since what is infinitely supplied cannot be stolen. Ultimately, it is a cowardly practice, rightly abjured even as it is still entirely too prevalent in the readers’ world–but it deserves no less rebuke and opposition outside the novel than inside.

We’ve had some medical expenses pop up; care to help with them?

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

---

The next chapter, “A Change of Heart,” opens with Wintrow weathering the aggravated defiance of the liveship Vivacia. The ship has focused its attentions on Kennit, who has focused his on Etta, drawing the envious attention of and provoking pride in all aboard. Wintrow rehearses recent events, marking the ways in which Kennit continues to assess him. He also notes the revelation of Etta’s illiteracy and finds himself tasked with teaching Etta to read. Lessons are set to begin but are interrupted by the sight of a slaveship and the ensuing pursuit.

The Vivacia springs to the pursuit with a will, nearly subsuming Wintrow in her bloodlust. The Marietta joins her to take the slaver, and one of the crew of the slaver–the cook–attempts to bargain for his life with information about the hidden treasure of Igrot the Bold. Kennit takes charge of that particular situation, directing his own crew to see about cementing their hold on the ship and the disposition of the now-freed slaves. Kennit dispatches the cook, asserting repeatedly that Igrot’s crew had had no survivors, before ordering dispositions and scuttling the taken slaver.

Elsewhere, Althea meets with Grag Tenira, who seems to be comfortable in temporary exile. Althea’s path to him is noted, as are the concerns some have about her travel thither. Developments concerning Grag are also discussed; he is a wanted man with a substantial price on his head. Despite his need to depart soon, he states his love for Althea, and he asks her if she will marry him; she demurs, citing the need to reclaim the Vivacia before she can make any other major decisions. He acknowledges her choice and affirms that he will wait for her. The matter of Brashen Trell comes up between them, occasioning painful discussion that bespeaks a certain disregard by Grag for Althea’s agency. It dashes any thought she had had of a life with him, and she takes her leave.

The last passage is perhaps the most interesting. Until this point, Grag has been presented as a “good” character, and even with his failure to recognize Althea as being valid outside his understanding of gender roles, he comes across as more a benighted character than a “bad” one (such as Althea’s brother-in-law). And it is not out of line for him to want to find happiness on his own terms; the problem is that he expects Althea to defer to his views and his understandings, rather than that they will both have to accommodate each other’s. That, and the comment that because Brashen is a man, he is responsible and therefore to blame for Althea’s sexual expression, rather than Althea being in possession of her faculties and able to make her own decisions about sharing herself in such a way. As much a “good” guy as Grag might be–and “good guy Grag” does evoke some memes, even if likely unintentionally, but I read from who and what I am and where and when I have been–he suggests some problems inherent in even the “best” iterations of such systems as emerge from and reinforce strict gender dynamics. Saga Bokne has more to say on the matter, of course, and Goran Katavić’s work addresses similar concerns elsewhere in Hobb; Julia Hallgren Sanderson’s work also illuminates, and I would be happy to hear of others.

My anniversary was this past weekend; help me celebrate it?

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

---

A chapter titled “Salvage” follows, beginning with work to refit the Paragon ongoing under Brashen’s watch and with his help. Progress is noted, as is the difficulty the work faces of returning the long-beached ship to the sea. So is his continued difficulty addressing his addiction to cindin. And trouble emerges as the ship lashes out, frightening the work crews such that Brashen has to resort to threats to get work to continue. They extend to the ship, itself, despite the disapproval of both Amber and Althea, who look on. The three return to work, Clef joining them, and the sullen work crew resumes its own efforts.

At the Vestrit home, Malta entertains her friend, Delo Trell. The latter passes along a missive from her brother, Cerwin, and Malta muses ruefully on her current situation. The contents of Cerwin’s missive are paltry, Malta contrasting them with what she has had to learn about the family finances. She asks about how the Trells stand and gets little useful information from it; Delo reports the argument between her father and Cerwin had echoed that between him and Brashen, frightening her. Malta mulls over what her friend says, recalling more of the events of intervening days and the sacrifices the Vestrits have been making, thinking on the increasing separation between herself and her peers. Malta retires to her chamber and considers her situation further. The room grows oppressive, and she finds herself ensnared in a dream. During it, the dragon speaks to her, demanding she help persuade Reyn to help her.

As night begins to fall, Brashen calls a halt to work on the Paragon as he wrestles with his longing for Althea, considering their strained relationship. As the work crews filter away, he pores over ledgers, tallying costs ruefully. He approaches her where she confers with Amber at the aft of the ship, and the three discuss the next day’s prospects. Althea notes updates from Grag; the Teniras’ situation is not improving. Brashen’s temper gets the better of him for a bit, and he is rebuked for it. He continues, confronting Althea with what he has intuited about her truth; Althea makes a perfunctory denial, and Brashen stalks off to where Clef has a cook fire going. He and the boy speak briefly about luck.

After Brashen leaves, Althea makes to depart. She rails against Brashen to Amber, who defends the man to her, in turn. Althea admits to the woodcarver that she would like more of a relationship with Brashen, and Amber encourages her in that desire.

Brashen’s addiction to cindin has been noted at several earlier points in the Liveship Traders books, and it joins with the problems identified in carris seed and elfbark in the Farseer novels to suggest a theme in Hobb’s novels addressing the perils of substance use. (From the vantage of a rereading, I can also note that others of the Elderlings novels speak to the issue, as well.) My own perspective, coming from administering a substance abuse treatment facility, predisposes me to look for such things, as might be expected, but even without that admitted bias, the inclusion of such things–not only the drugs and their intoxicating effects, but also their sometimes lingering aftereffects –does a fair bit to reinforce the verisimilitude of Hobb’s milieu. The drugs with mystical properties have all too mundane ones, as well, or else the mystical is only an extension of the mundane; they have the same narrative effect, really.

I shall appreciate your continued support.