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

---

The next chapter, “The Wit and the Sword,” opens with a gloss of the history between the Six Duchies and the Out Islands, naming the leader of the Forging Red-Ship Raiders: Kebal Rawbread. It moves into Verity’s refusal of Fitz’s assistance in carving the dragon; Verity knows Fitz does not know what he offers and refuses him on those grounds. A following exchange leaves Fitz ashamed as Verity and Kettle leave off work for the day.

As Fitz checks up on the rest of the party, he finds himself drawn to check in on Molly and Burrich through the Skill. He finds them in the midst of an attack, and while Burrich defends them as adeptly as could be hoped, he is one man against many. Molly, however, uses her knowledge of bees and their ways to drive off the attackers in fear, saving Burrich and Nettle. Verity pulls Fitz away from the unintended Skilling with more words of caution.

The next morning sees Fitz and the Fool confer before they, Nighteyes, and Kettricken go out into the surrounding woods to gather supplies. When they return with fish and firewood, they find that Verity and Kettle have made progress on the dragon, and Verity summons Fitz to him to begin a task. He is to return through the standing stones–Skill-pillars–to the garden where the other carved dragons rest, there to attempt to rouse them.

Fitz goes, and he finds that the dragons seem more to have alighted where they rest than to have been carved in place. While he is about that work, he spies some of Regal’s forces and realizes his peril and Verity’s. Fitz makes to eliminate the immediate peril, setting a trap for the soldiers that have come. One falls to his machinations, and another to a suddenly arrived Verity, who accepts the surrender of the third, tasking him to herald his imminent return. The soldier, Tag, flees on the errand, and Fitz and Verity return to the quarry.

There are another few instances of deus ex machina in the chapter, both occasioned by Verity–his emergence from the Skill-pillar and his resharpening of his sword. The latter, at least, receives some lampshading in Verity’s comment that he “should have known [he] could do that,” so it does not rankle as much as might otherwise be expected, even aside from the issues about the device noted in the previous entry in this series.

Perhaps more important is the reconnection to the greater narrative milieu the chapter presents. Much of the discourse of Hobb’s novels hinges on foreshadowing and precognition, and both the names Kebal Rawbread and Tag, son of Reaver, first noted in the present chapter, factor into future novels in the series. It might be remarked, somewhat cynically but not without merit, that Hobb is setting up for sequels to a trilogy that should be bounded and contained (and the Farseer trilogy does work well as an isolated thing), but it is something that makes sense within the greater context of the narrative milieu.

And it is good to have more to read.

Help me celebrate Star Wars Day?

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

---

The chapter that follows, “Kettle’s Secrets,” begins by commenting briefly on the Witness Stones outside Buckkeep Castle. It moves thence into Verity’s return to work; Fitz and the Fool return to the statue of the girl on the dragon. It registers oddly to Fitz’s Wit, and the Fool touches the statue with his Skill-impressed fingertips. It goes badly for him, and Kettle rebukes them both harshly when she arrives there shortly afterwards. When Fitz rebukes her, in turn, Kettle demurs slightly.

After Fitz tends to the Fool, he reports to Verity and Kettricken, who sits beside him while he continues to scrape at the statue he has made. As Fitz reports, Verity leaves off his work and resumes more of himself, which appears to hearten Kettricken, in turn. The rest of the group joins them as Fitz continues his account, and Verity notes, somewhat absently, that Regal listens through the Fool.

Fitz pleads with Verity for aid in the wake of the revelation; Verity denies it as irrelevant and reaffirms his need to complete the dragon alone. Kettle argues against the stance, noting that dragon-making has been collaborative in the past. She also declares her true self and circumstances, to some disbelief. Verity directs Fitz to assist Kettle, and he attempts it unsuccessfully.

The Fool joins the two, putting his Skill-stained flesh to the task. In a glorious communion that takes in Fitz, the Fool, Nighteyes, and Kettle–who has resumed her former name of Kestrel–Fitz helps her to free herself from the punishment that has been imposed upon her. In the wake of it, Kestrel aids Verity’s work, and Fitz and the Fool confer. Fitz purposes to join his king in the work.

Of particular note in the present chapter is the revelation of the titular Kettle’s secrets. While Hobb does do much to foreshadow that the old woman knows much, the specifics of the reading do threaten to come off as something of a deus ex machina, which can easily be taken as an annoyance by readers. Of course, the Elderlings novels partake heavily of the Tolkienian fantasy tradition, even if other antecedents work more strongly in them, and so they partake of the medieval European. As such, they fall under a rubric about which I have written before, one that admits of a tradition that readily invokes such a device. And while the direct comparison between a novel of some heft and episodes of a children’s cartoon may be a bit of a stretch, that does not mean the underlying idea is a bad one. Namely, although Hobb’s Elderlings novels do not operate in an analogue of medieval Europe, they emerge from and participate in a tradition that showed up abundantly during that period–as Douglas A. Anderson points out in Tales before Tolkien and that many others have pointed out at length and eloquently–so that the presence of something like a deus ex machina is not a reason to take on a particular literary atheism.

It’s May Day!
I’m not in distress;
Help me keep it that way!

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

---

The next chapter, “Girl on a Dragon,” begins with notes about the dearth of Skilled people to aid Verity before moving into an interruption of discussion. The Fool touched Verity’s Skill-overlain flesh, and Kettle tends to the Fool, directing Fitz to attend to Verity. Fitz does so, learning more from Verity about the work he has been doing to carve his dragon. When Kettricken enters and embraces her husband, Fitz is called away.

While Kettricken and Verity confer, the rest of the party and Fitz talk. The Fool is altered by his contact with Verity, his fingertips marked with the Skill that suffuses Verity’s hands and arms, and the implications of that marking are noted. Kettricken and Verity emerge from their tent, and Verity begins to eat in a way that shows it has been long since he did so. Kettle announces that they will remain on site to assist Verity, his success being the only hope the Six Duchies has in its current crisis.

As the evening draws on, the Fool relates to Fitz what he learned from his contact with Verity. The idea is that Verity will carve and waken his dragon, going thence to fight the Red-Ship Raiders alone. The dragons themselves, the Fool understands to be the Elderlings of Six Duchies legend.

That night, Fitz wakes early at Nighteyes’s insistence; Kettricken has been gone longer than she ought. They find her with ease, and Kettricken confides in Fitz the sadness she feels at the current situation. She does so near the carved image of a girl on a dragon, and Fitz feels something taken from himself suddenly.

After, Fitz speaks with the Fool again, who is testing the limits of his new abilities. They confer about their situation and the Fool’s plan to visit the girl on a dragon. The Fool also reports to Fitz much of what had led to Regal’s efforts to gain the quarry and the power dormant therein.

There is an interesting bit in the present chapter: the comments that dragons are Elderlings. It is an issue that will come up in later novels in the corpus, and it is the case that some of the ideas established in Assassin’s Quest come up for reinterpretaion. That is to be expected as narrative milieus evolve under their authors’ pens; Tolkien’s own work was hardly immune to it, as his son’s editorial comments make clear, and the successive editions of rules-sets for the tabletop roleplaying games that account for so much engagement with fantasy and medieval/ist ideas are also indications of change in progress. Still, one of the pleasures of doing a rereading is that things remembered from earlier readings are reconfirmed, and writing about them in such wise as this helps to fix them in memory, allowing for more work later on.

Things are tight here as in many places. If you can throw a little bit my way, I’d be obliged.

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

---

The next chapter, “The Quarry,” opens with notes about old tales from the Mountain Kingdom that depict ancient creatures of power. It moves on to skip several days, until Fitz’s party reaches the quarry of the title; the remains of the work once done therein stand as ruined cyclopean altars to masons long dead. They begin to make camp as Kettricken despairs of finding Verity, and Nighteyes finds a corpse. Investigation reveals it is one of Regal’s coterie, Carrod, killed through the Skill–but still in the quarry.

The party begins to search out the quarry more thoroughly, finding partly-completed carvings of dragons. They also find Verity at last, and Kettricken has to be held back from rushing to him and immolating herself in the embrace of his power. Verity is haggard and distracted, and Kettricken flees from him under the weight of her own emotions; Nighteyes follows her. The Fool sets about setting up camp, enlisting Starling to help; Fitz confers with Verity as best he can, getting little information from his king but giving him a lengthy and detailed report in his turn.

Conversation makes clear that Verity is focused on carving his dragon, to the exclusion of eating and sleeping. Kettle and Fitz prevail upon Verity to take a short break from the task and attend to himself for Kettricken. And as the traveling party confers during the preparations, Kettle makes clear the scope of Verity’s still-incomplete achievement, as well as the likely threat to it that Carrod had posed as he died.

The idea of the call of the Skill as addiction seems to push itself forward as I read the chapter once again; Verity’s sleepless fixation on his task and the vagueness of mind that accompany it align with what I see from some of the people I help serve in my day-job, at least. And, as I write this entry in the midst of the coronavirus (I and mine are well as I write this, thank you, though my wife and I both count as working “essential services,” so we are not able to stay at home, really), I cannot help but see a parallel to current circumstances. Many people are fixated on the novel coronavirus, not without cause, and such has affected my sleep and eating, as well as others’. Nor am I immune to vagueness in the present situation, as I am probably making clearer than I ought as I write this entry.

It is, of course, not entirely appropriate to read the text against today when it was written more than twenty years ago, now. It cannot be responding to what had not yet then happened. But it is not entirely inappropriate, either; one of the values of any work of art is that it does speak beyond the circumstances of its own composition. And if it is the case that I am the target audience for such a text now as I likely was then, that does not mean I do poorly to hear what it says now, even against a different background noise.

Help me and mine keep on going?

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

---

A chapter titled “Capelin Beach” follows. It begins with a brief comment about the Wit before moving into the party’s progress. It is not pleasant; the Fool is particularly annoying under the effects of elfbark. Kettle again assumes authority over Fitz and seeing to his mental stability.

When, at one point, the party stops, Nighteyes relates to Fitz that Kettricken has spoken to him through the Wit. After, the Fool makes conversation with Fitz, asking after Molly. Fitz notes a town near where she currently lives, after which the Fool seems to pass out; Fitz takes it for a game and stalks off. It soon after emerges that it was no game; the Fool was asleep and, when roused, was addled. Starling asks Fitz about the matter, and Fitz notes his conversation with the Fool. Nighteyes comments thereupon through the Wit, and Fitz realizes some of the import of what the Fool had said to him many times before.

Fitz makes to confer with the Fool again, laying out something like a final will and testament. The conversation reveals that the Fool had not been the earlier interlocutor, at least not consciously; he reports having been somewhat distant from what he thought a speech in dream. Nighteyes opines on the connection among them and makes a suggestion that the Fool answers, confirming the strength of the bond.

There is perhaps something elegaic in Fitz’s recognition of the carpe diem principle. He knows at this point that his survival is not expected–not that he has necessarily been expected to survive a great many things previously, and irrespective of the fact he has been dead. The realization or reminder throws into stark relief the times he had pushed things aside in favor of tending to them tomorrow, not from simple procrastination, but because he allowed other things to matter more in the moment. Admittedly, there were many times his task at hand demanded full and immediate attention, but it was not always so, not by any means.

Rereading once again overly affectively, I have to consider the times I have made similar decisions. I have been better about it than I might have been, I know, and I have been better about it than many in my positions have been, but I have not seldom set aside time with family in favor of working time or in favor of some other kind of activity. And if it has been the case many times that my presence made things far less enjoyable than they might otherwise have been–I am curmudgeonly, and it has been remarked that “nobody can have a bad time like Geoff can”–it has also been the case many times that I have not bothered to try. More and more, I regret it, as I do many things. Nor do I expect that I am alone in that regret.

Send a little somethin’ my way?

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

---

A chapter titled “Elfbark” follows. It begins with a brief comment about one of the White Prophets’ prophecies before turning to Fitz and Kettricken plotting out their next steps. Fitz and Nighteyes share a pleasant exchange before the party sets out, as do Fitz and the Fool.

As the party proceeds, Kettle accompanies Fitz, helping him keep his focus as they move towards the Skill road. That night, Fitz, the Fool, and Nighteyes go out to hunt. While they do, Nighteyes scents one of Regal’s coterie, Burl. The wolf moves to eliminate him as Burl works to Skill against Fitz. Nighteyes drives Burl off as Fitz is assailed through the magic; they make their way back to the party, where the Fool is still in the grip of the Skill. Fitz recalls him from it, finding a bond between them through the magic, and Kettle prepares more elfbark for the Fool to drink in the hope its Skill-dampening effect would protect him from further assault through the Skill for a time.

Kettricken demands explanations, which Kettle provides. She mulls over their situation afterward, and the Fool begins to make strangely lewd comments. Kettle presses on with the elfbark treatment, learning of Fitz’s long use of the substance–and of Verity’s. In the wake of the information, Kettle offers more to Fitz, citing its quelling effects; he considers taking it, but decides against doing so, and he immediately begins to suffer for the choice.

There might be something of a joke to be found in Kettle concerning herself so much with brewing in the present chapter. Less humorous, but more important for future work, is the mention that use of the Skill becomes almost intuitive; it is a small comment, but it is one that serves to vitiate complaints about deus ex machina that might be brought up.

Too, there is motion towards Fitz’s seeming addiction to elfbark (earlier noted here). Kettle’s commentary about the substance’s effects–and its uses–bring to mind the “go pills” reported as being given to operatives in the field, as well as far less savory experiments done ostensibly in the name of freedom. As with a number of addictive substances, the potential application for the Fool–in measure and as a response to a specific circumstance, including an addictive magic that lies outside control or experience–rings true. And there is something to be said in Fitz’s favor that he rejects indulging his seeming addiction, as well as that he immediately begins to feel effects associated with that rejection.

There may be more that could have been done to demonstrate the effects of the seeming addiction on Fitz. And I have to wonder about game-based treatment for addiction. But the fact that it is treated at all, that there is any verisimilitude in it, is another of the many points in favor of Hobb’s writing.

Nothing special today, but I could still use your help.

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

---

A chapter titled “The Stone Garden” follows. It begins with a note about a lost keep in the Six Duchies. It moves then to the party’s continued travel–off of the Skill road and onto a normal, now-overgrown track that occasions complaint from all save Fitz and Nighteyes. Fitz puts the matter of Starling to the Fool; the Fool, in turn, deflects the conversation with accustomed mockery. It does not help matters.

As they press on, Fitz ruminates about Molly and Burrich. And, as a surprise, they come to a statue of a dragon. Described in detail, it unnerves Fitz; his Wit reads it and the other dragon statues as living. His warnings do not dissuade the other members of the party from investigating the statues further. Fitz and Kettricken confer about their surroundings, and Kettricken purposes to search for Verity in the one place shown on their map that they have yet to reach.

As they make camp, Fitz purposes to go off hunting. Starling offers to accompany him, which surprises him, but he does not refuse her. She proves something of a distraction to Fitz as he works with the wolf, the more so as she tries to explain herself and her stance to him. Fitz is taken aback by it, and they confer with unaccustomed frankness. In the wake of the talk, Starling offers herself to Fitz; he ineptly deflects the offer. And that night, he dreams strange dreams once again.

As I read the chapter again, I remembered that the text is presented as if composed by Fitz many years after the events being depicted. I do not question the character’s recall; enough things are glossed over, and enough is made of his training in various mental disciplines, that it does not pass credulity. But I am struck by the degree to which he recalls his dreams; I rarely if ever do, and certainly not for long after I have them. That is, I occasionally remember that I have dreamt, and I remember waking with the memory of a dream in mind, but I almost never remember the content of my dreams with any detail. I know I am not necessarily representative in this; a lot of people remember their dreams vividly. But it is something that stands out to me.

Too, Fitz’s sudden insight into Starling’s situation resonated with me. It is clear to me that part of the way in which Fitz subverts expectations of common fantasy protagonists (about which I write somewhat ineptly here) is in treating such concerns; protagonists typically either need not treat them or never know they need to do so. Fitz may belatedly realize others have the perspectives that they do, but he does come to realize so much, and that marks him as rare among his kindred–both in the milieu and in the genre.

It’s almost Tax Day in the US; help me meet my bill?

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

---

The next chapter, “The Rooster Crown,” starts with a brief description of a Mountain Kindgom game before moving into Fitz and Kettle’s return from their sortie. Kettricken notes that the Fool seems to be improving, and Fitz considers both the presence of Regal’s coterie and his own actions. He very nearly falls back into a Skill-reverie, but Kettle calls him out of it before he can slip in, but after the night passes, he is pulled into the Skill Regal plies through his coterie.

Fitz is understandably shaken by the vision, and Kettricken and Kettle make to ease and redirect him. The party proceeds uneasily, but doggedly, and the Fool notes that his present illness seems to be a natural occurrence for his kind. He also elaborates on that kind to Fitz as they proceed, as well as laying out more of the scope of his prophetic powers and his purpose in plying them.

The next morning, the party sets out with more vigor. Nighteyes offers to have the Fool accompany him and Fitz on the hunt; the Fool accepts, surprising Fitz. As they proceed, they come to a place where once a village stood; Fitz and the Fool are both swept into the place’s history and visions. The rest of the party is able to pull them out of it, and Kettle berates them both, but the Fool exults in renewed confidence, and they press ahead with something very much like joy.

Later, that joy is somewhat blunted when Kettricken points out Starling’s affections and evident jealousy to Fitz. Fitz denies the allegations made against him, and Kettricken notes some attraction to him before leaving him alone.

The action in the present chapter was easier for me to follow on this re-reading, which pleases me; I had been worried about my ability to follow a narrative anymore. The discussion of the Fool’s upbringing and abilities, too, seemed to make sense to me, and it seems to me, too, that there is something of a parallel between what the White Prophets are described as doing and the work of humanistic study.

The chapter describes the brand of prophecy the Fool practices as being more of a backward look than a forward one. That is, there are omens and portents and visions, but it is only after events have come to pass that those prophecies can be understood for their full meaning. (Connecting back to earlier comments about the series and its evocation of Asimov’s Foundation novels, I am reminded of the equations displayed by the Prime Radiant in the later-in-milieu books; psychohistory can predict to some degree, but events as they happen occasion adjustments to and recalibrations of the mathematics.) Similarly, the remarks those who study the humanities make, using the works of human minds and hands to help understand the human conditions (and, yes, there’s a reason I’m using the plural), can only be understood fully in retrospect–and even then, as with the Fool’s visions, the interpretations change as new information comes to light.

Of course, that’s the way it’s supposed to be.

Give me something to crow about?

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

---

The next chapter, “The Coterie,” starts by musing on the strange dearth of depictions of the Elderlings in the Six Duchies. It proceeds then to Fitz’s debriefing–punctuated by angry commentary from Kettle. Nighteyes expresses his concerns to Fitz through the Wit, and Kettricken examines the map Fitz has brought back from the strange city. With that information, they make to rest and ready for further travel to Verity, and Fitz becomes concerned for the Fool, who seems to be fevered. Fitz prepares elfbark for him, raising some mutterings from Kettle, and the two talk of the Fool’s health and physical nature.

Fitz wakes early the next morning, and Nighteyes stalks out to scout. The two determine that there are approaching riders, and the party makes for an armed withdrawal. They proceed until they encounter a rockslide they must cross; Nighteyes provides intelligence on their pursuit as they make to pass. The crossing is made with difficulty, and the illness that has taken the Fool is painfully evident as Fitz assists him.

In its wake, the party considers the intelligence relayed by Nighteyes and tries to puzzle out their pursuit’s intent. It becomes clear that Regal has sent pursuit to follow Verity and Fitz; surely, their work must have led to some end? Fitz purposes to backtrack and, with Nighteyes’s aid, ambush their pursuit; the rest of the party presses on, save Kettle, who surprises Fitz by volunteering to assist him. Their sortie is successful, eliminating half of their pursuers and acquiring their provisions. In its wake, Kettle asks Fitz about his assassin’s work and reveals to him that she had been exiled for killing a member of her own coterie through the Skill.

Among other things, the chapter offers a useful reminder that FitzChivalry Farseer is not a nice person; he is, in fact, rather the opposite, a by-blow acknowledged as necessary even as he carries out markedly distasteful duties. Early on in the rereading series, I remarked on the emblematic nature of his name; events in the succeeding books have not always reinforced the fundamental nature of the work for which Fitz is trained and at which, when he is thinking clearly and paying attention, he excels. The present chapter, however, does so, and it reminds readers through Starling’s reaction to Fitz’s open statement of his planning that Fitz is not a traditional hero, even if he partakes of that tradition in some ways.

The revelation about Kettle, though set up in previous chapters, does seem to be somewhat convenient, bordering on a deus ex machina. I’ve commented on the phenomenon before, and my comments remain in place; the presence of the device does not mean the writing is bad. But it does seem somewhat jarring in the present circumstance.

I could use a cup of coffee; pick one up for me?

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

---

The following chapter, “The City,” opens with comments about a reported old road in the Mountain Kingdom. It moves thence to Fitz’s addled stumblings through a strange city that befuddles his senses–mundane and otherwise. It takes him some time to regain his bearings and begin to puzzle out what surrounds him, and even then, what he encounters confuses him.

The day draws on, and Fitz finds himself growing chill; he builds a fire to warm himself, and its light reveals the decrepitude of his actual surroundings, different from the bustling city that presents itself to him from the past in images excited by his touch. At length, he begins to sleep and to dream in the Skill; he first sees Molly and Nettle, their daughter. He then sees Chade conferring with a lover and ally about Regal’s actions against the Mountain Kingdom; they seem to make little sense.

When morning comes, Fitz begins to explore again, moving through the recollected city in some awe. Among the images are dragons, and Fitz proceeds to find a position to survey his surroundings more thoroughly. The survey reveals the aftereffects of a cataclysm, as well as a map that Fitz realizes Verity will have used and copied. He scrambles to make his own copy before falling into Skill-visions again. Bewildered and frantic, he staggers back to where he had entered the city: a stone pillar. Passing through it, he emerges to find Nighteyes happily greeting his return.

This was another chapter where I found myself having difficulty following along. I begin to worry about it; I am supposed to be a damned good reader, and having challenges in rereading something I have read several times before–more than several times, really–does not suggest itself as a good thing. Admittedly, the action in the chapter is described as being confusing in itself, with Fitz shifting frames of perception from his present circumstances to those recorded and re-presented by the construction of the city without much obvious transition; my earlier comments that the reading should follow the action still obtain. I’m just taken a bit aback that I’m not used to it again by this point, is all.

Maybe that is more revelatory of me than of the text. I’ve noted, perhaps too often, that I am out of academe, moving from trying to earn citizenship in that strange country to being an expatriate from it to being now only an occasional vacationer therein. (I do still list as an “academic expatriate” in conference registrations, though perhaps “intellectual vacationer” might be a better label to use henceforth.) As I am farther and farther removed from daily work of reading and thinking and writing, it makes sense that my abilities to do such things fade. I am less than I was in those ways; I wonder what I have earned from the exchange.

Care to shower me with money to alleviate the drought of my wallet?