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After a report from Jek about Kelsingra and its reoccupation, “The Crown” begins with Fitz returning belatedly to his quarters, tired from the night’s events. He rests uneasily until awakened by Ash effecting entry into his rooms. Fitz challenges the boy, who delivers breakfast and letters for the renewed FitzChivalry Farseer, and the two talk together briefly before Ash notes small injuries on Fitz’s back. Fitz is surprised by them, himself, but he deflects attention by asking after Ash’s background, learning that the boy was the child of a prostitute and slotting more of Chade’s machinations into place in his mind.

Dismissing Ash, Fitz turns to the correspondences that have begun to come in for him, considering them and the ways in which his new status will affect Bee. He is distracted from his ruminations by the arrival of the crow that has insinuated herself into his life, giving rise to a rumination on the Wit and its limits. The bird harangues him for a bit as he wistfully considers changes in the area surrounding Buckkeep, and Fitz attempts to mask the physical differences that separate the crow from her fellows.

So much done, Fitz ascends to Chade’s hidden chambers to confer with the Fool. The latter notes that he is beginning to recover some semblance of sight, and Fitz guardedly congratulates him. The pair then confer about Fitz’s re-elevation, about which not all are pleased, and the Fool notes to Fitz a package Chade had left for him. Within is a sealed message from Verity, dating to his departure to Kelsingra and naming Fitz to his line of succession; a crown accompanies it. Despite his concerns, the Fool places it on Fitz’s head, and the two confer about injuries and Skill-healing. Fitz investigates the Fool, finding himself in mind of his own mistreatment by Galen, and both end up fatigued by the experience. The crow–deemed Motley by the Fool–returns as they continue to talk and makes herself part of their circle.

The present chapter does make a number of references to in-milieu past events, even more than I link herein, glossing them neatly and generally well. It is a good piece of world-building on display and a useful reminder that the present volume is one in a long series. (And what a relief it is to read an author who actually gets books into print!) I could wish I had taken more detailed notes, or more searchable ones, but that is an issue with me and not with the text.

I find some interest in some of the comments regarding those who are not pleased at the return of FitzChivalry Farseer. One, in particular, stands out, that made by the grandson of a soldier who had helped Regal capture Fitz: “My grandfather died thinking he had sent you to your death. To the end of his days, Blade believed he had betrayed you. He, I think, you might have trusted” (162). Again, I appreciate the work to connect the present text back to the earlier volumes in the series; I know–oh, I know–that there is a lot of material in the Elderlings corpus, and keeping track of all of it is not necessarily an easy thing to do. Again, I could wish I had taken more detailed notes, or more searchable ones, than I have done these past years. (It’s strange to think it’ll be six years this May that I’ll’ve been working through this rereading series–and there’s more to do!) But in any event, while some might be displeased to see FitzChivalry return for superstitious reasons (as noted previously), and others might be displeased because the reappearance of an acknowledged Farseer–with an earned reputation as a more-than-capable killer–and possible heir presents substantial disruption to any number of political intrigues that might be in place, the indication that there are entirely justifiable, personal angers to be directed at Fitz does some good work in continuing to humanize the character. Shades of steel-grey would appear to show, indeed, and I find myself thinking yet again of a scholarly someday that might be worth pursuing. Too, the small-scale slice-of-life things Hobb includes do much to make the milieu more “real” for the reader, with effects I think I’ve noted before.

So, yeah, it’s a good chapter.

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Following an excerpt from lyrics by Starling Birdsong, “Farseers” begins with Fitz returning to his chambers and hurriedly changing in response to the urgent summons he had received. So much done, he rushes to answer the summons, Skilling to Chade to inform him of yet another cover identity, and entering into the midst of celebration. Fitz attends to his surroundings, noting major players (including Dutiful and Elliania) and their conduct as he makes his way through the throng.

Fitz’s progress is halted by the beginnings of an announcement by Elliania which notes first that Nettle is a Farseer and second that she is pregnant. Fitz marks the reactions of those concerned, and he considers likely regard for the news thus delivered. Kettricken then summons a minstrel to recount Fitz’s deeds along the trip to assist Verity, which summons Starling Birdsong answers in full glory. Even Fitz, who is somewhat chagrined at hearing himself lauded in song, is singularly impressed at her work. He is less impressed at being hustled forward by Chade, where Dutiful improvises a likely story to explain his appearance and absence, and Fitz faces the gathered crowd.

The prefatory materials to the present chapter, Starling’s lyrics detailing one of the more prominent early events in Fitz’s public career, are the third such piece in the current volume; one of Hap Gladheart’s songs and the propaganda by Farrow minstrel Celsu Cleverhands both appear earlier in the text. Some explication of Hap’s lyrics has already been given; consideration of Celsu’s might well be undertaken (if perhaps not here), as might some of Starling’s own work. (Yes, I am aware that all three characters and “their work” are the inventions of the author, Hobb, herself an adopted authorial persona of the author, about which construction some comments are here. I know I have a tendency to talk about characters as if they are people; I have noted more than once that I read overly affectively. But, as I think I have also noted before, the fact of my affective reading is part of what motivates my studies to begin with; I’d not’ve spent the time and effort on this hadn’t I emotional investment in the work.) I think it’ll add to my scholarly somedays, honestly, unless I find that someone’s already done the work first to explicate the selections more thoroughly and second to read them against one another.

In any event, however, there is something to be said about the inclusion of another bit of verse at the head of the chapter. It’s not the first time Hobb does so, of course, not even within the present volume. But it does seem marked as a more common occurrence in the present volume than in previous volumes in the Elderlings corpus; three, and within four chapters, is a lot for this kind of thing. I’m sure there is some significance to be found in it; perhaps it speaks to the author’s readings during and soon before composition of the present text (although I am wary of biographical criticism for reasons I believe I’ve articulated), perhaps it serves to highlight differing social constructions across the component fiefs of the Six Duchies, perhaps it does something else, but even if I am uncertain what that else is, I am sure it’s there. So that might be yet another scholarly someday for me; I seem to collect them.

And there’s another, perhaps clearer, such scholarly someday for me in the present chapter. Some years ago, now, I wrote a master’s thesis that examines Hobb’s use of Arthurian tropes in the characters of the Farseer and Tawny Man trilogies. I’ve moved on from some of the ideas I voice in that text, at least partly; for example, I don’t think the Six Duchies are a recapitulation of Britain / England, at least not primarily (although, as I look at the text again, I note that even in it, I point out deviations from the “source” materials, even if I hadn’t yet realized where they came from). But some of the things I have in the thesis still seem true; “Chade is very much like Arthurian Merlin” (29) is one of them, and the idea that Chivalry and Verity Farseer are Arthurian-esque heroes (38) is another. So is young Fitz’s similarity to Gawain (39-51). And the overall concept is reinforced in Fitz’s return to public life in the Six Duchies; the presentation of him Dutiful makes to his assembled court is very much in the model of rex quondam rexque futurus who, per Malory, “shal come ageyn” from having gone “by the wylle of our lord Ihesu in to another place,” the which is often understood to be the enchanted isle of Avalon (note here and here, XI.2). If I might add to my collection, I think another revisit to an older project–along the lines of this piece–might well be in order.

Someday.

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After a piece of propaganda celebrating Fitz’s death and Regal’s accession, “Secrets and a Crow” opens with Fitz, disguised as Feldspar, returning to his chambers and planning the events to follow. Riddle greets him there and receives an unexpected apology before delivering the news that Nettle is pregnant and that they are wedded by custom and against Dutiful’s wishes. Fitz’s mind races over political implications, and Riddle adds to the complexities thereof by reporting that Patience can be regarded as a descendant of the Farseers, not only as a widow of them. Fitz offers his commendations, and then Riddle returns to the matter of Bee, which leaves Fitz uncomfortable. After Riddle takes his leave, Fitz responds to Nettle’s Skill-sending, the two conferring through the magic briefly and sharply. Fitz is left to consider once again the wisdom of his choices, and he arrives at a decision.

Fitz rejoins the Fool and receives a message left for him. They confer about the Fool’s situation, and Fitz reads the message, which is from Chade and bids him attend the final Winterfest feast in his guise as Feldspar. Meanwhile, the Fool waxes despondent about the situation in Clerres and the depredations of the Servants, and he weeps at what he has suffered. Fitz offers what comfort he can, which he knows is not much, and he glosses the message from Chade to the Fool. Fitz also considers what his loved ones have given up for him across the years and his purposes moving ahead.

Leaving the Fool, Fitz goes about his errands as Feldspar. While about them, he notes the cawing of a crow, calling out for Tom. It is, in the event, the crow of which Web had spoken, and, as Fitz goes about his errands, it makes a show of itself and its ability to speak the name “FitzChivalry,” which occasions upset among onlookers. Fitz manages to turn the situation, taking the crow with him as he hurls imprecations and abuses that afford him an escape. The pair return to Buckkeep to find festivities in progress, and he hastens to attend to the bird as he frets about meeting his many other obligations. But, returning to the Fool, Fitz and the crow find aid, and once the bird is freed from its entanglements, Fitz Skills to Chade, only to be summoned with some urgency. Fitz hastens to answer the summons, leaving the bird with the Fool, who approves of her.

The present chapter once again points out the odd gender-blindness at work between Fitz and the Fool regarding the putative unexpected son of the former. Again, the Fool moves fluidly among gender expressions and makes much of the fact that Fitz (and others) make much of the reproductive equipment other people possess; for the Fool to remain so adamant in the idea that the son is a son seems…out of keeping with the usual insightfulness the character displays. Perhaps it is a reinforcement of the idea that everybody has areas in which they falter, a bit of the verisimilitude that Hobb is often at pains to include in her work. Perhaps it is the Fool’s response, or part of it, to the trauma that has clearly been endured. (I am minded that Hobb’s work does go in for torture at more than one point, and not only in the Elderlings novels; another scholarly someday seems to be at work.) But it still seems…odd to me as I read.

The present chapter also does some…interesting things with symbolism as surrounds the crow. One implication, and something that the text supports, is that the crow is an ill omen. By calling out Fitz’s true name, the crow occasions recollections of the kind of propaganda excerpted in the preliminary material of the chapter, something made fairly explicit in popular response to the crow’s call; among the comments are folk-legend-esque remarks about the beast-form that the Witted Bastard had adopted and the evils associated with him. Fitz is not ignorant of the danger such things represent to him–and, by extension, to his avowedly Witted King, Dutiful. But, as I’ve noted more than once, the set of symbols that occasion such functions are not necessarily the best applied to Fitz and to the Realm of the Elderlings, more generally. For one, even within a Northern- and Western-European-medieval background basis for the Six Duchies, Fitz’s symbolism is…complicated; adding the crow to the wolf with which he was already long associated begins to shade him towards Odin, and while that may not be the happiest set of associations for a great many, it is not an ignoble one, as such. More emphatically, given the decidedly non-European-based ways in which much of the Realm of the Elderlings can be read (and no, I am not going to avoid pointing it out when the opportunity presents itself, nor put off looking for such opportunities), I have to think that other resonances are more at work, or are also at work in ways that make the doom-imagery not the only or best way to read the presence of the crow in the text.

But, as with so much else in the Fitz-centric novels, foreshadowing is a thing.

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Following an in-milieu historical work reporting the end of the Red Ships War and the reaffirmation of the Farseer dynasty, “The Witted” begins with Fitz taking stock of his situation and finding himself annoyed that time has passed while he has been otherwise engaged. He hastens to ready himself for an audience with Kettricken, to which he reports and waits for a time before being admitted thereto.

Once she admits Fitz to her presence, Kettricken dismisses her attendants and drops pretense with Fitz, laying out her intentions for Bee and asking after the Fool. She weeps at Fitz’s answers regarding the latter, although he makes a wry comment at her reference to a question Starling had posed years ago.

Further conversation in that line is interrupted by the arrival of Witmaster Web. Talk at that point turns to the magic the three of them share, of Web’s new bond and Kettricken’s purpose to form a Wit-bond of her own. Continued political difficulties associated with the Wit are noted, and Fitz is urges to consider taking on as a companion an oddly colored crow. Web lays out the crow’s situation to Fitz and then returns conversation to Bee. Fitz then turns conversation to the princes, Prosper and Integrity, who evidently have the Skill in some measure. Plans are made for the coming days, and Fitz excuses himself.

A couple of points present themselves for discussion regarding the present chapter. One of them is the subject, again, of gender fluidity. Others, of course, speak to the presentation of gender fluidity in Hobb more eloquently and at greater length than I can afford here; Katavić, Melville, Mohon, Prater, Räsänen, Sanderson, and Schouwenaars, whose works are glossed in the Fedwren Project, all do so, and I’m sure there’re others of which I’m not yet aware. The subject of the Fool’s “son” and the part the Fool played in giving rise thereto receives (more) comment in the present chapter, and I find myself a bit…uncomfortable at the movement toward gender essentialism at work in the commentary. But I am also minded that 1) cultural differences obtain and 2) as part of that, with Kettricken having been intimately involved in issues of dynastic succession, her focus on such matters has some embeddedness to it. (And, yes, I know: “it’s just a book.” But if it’s okay for people to spend thousands of dollars to go to stadia and paint themselves in colors of schools they never attended, it’s okay for me to be nerdy about a book that cost far less than that.)

The other, related, is the resurgence of the notion of the Wit as a metaphor for homosexuality. I’ve commented, referencing others, before (here and here, for examples), and I remain of the opinion that having a metaphor for something that is actually in evidence is…a stretch. But as I reread, I wonder if the issue is less that the Wit is a metaphor for homosexuality (in the United States; primary expected readership remains a factor to consider) than that the regard in which it is held is a metaphor for the regard in which same-sex relationships–and queerness, generally–are held among the anticipated primary readership. I am likely late in arriving at the idea; I acknowledge that my attentions have generally been on other matters, both as regards my reading of Hobb and more generally. Given that I would have an outside perspective on the matter, I do not think adding to work investigating that part of the text will be one of my scholarly somedays, but it is still something worth considering, I think, if for no other reason than that those scholars of whose works I am aware wrote before the Fitz and the Fool trilogy was out. After all, I clearly think works can be revisited and extended when new primary materials become available, and I’m not so arrogant as to think I’m the only one who ought to do so.

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Fitz dreams of Nighteyes as a preface to “An Exchange of Substance,” waking as the chapter begins and assessing himself and his surroundings. He notes that Ash has come and gone again, and he purposes to check on the Fool before sleeping further. He finds the Fool convalescing, and the two confer briefly before Fitz sets out breakfast for his friend. Over the meal, they talk further, the Fool relating more of his journeys; it is an unhappy tale that takes the Fool and Prilkop to Clerres, where they are taken in and taken in, and the Fool weeps over his folly.

One of the Fool’s comments speaks to the Pale Woman, naming her as a thing made by the Servants to enact their goals, and Fitz’s mind races back over what he has known to sort in the new information he has gained. The Fool comments that Fitz’s existence and actions thwarted the long designs of the Servants to some extent, and they discuss that point before Fitz tends to the Fool’s injuries again. The experience is unpleasant but soon concluded, and talk turns more fully to healing and the mixtures of magics that have pervaded their lives.

Fitz makes to prepare for an audience with Kettricken in his role as Feldspar, but the Fool halts him by resuming his narration of his travels. He teases him as he had once done, offering what reassurance he can before lapsing into sleep.

The present chapter, particularly Fitz’s assessment of the Servants’ breeding program, calls to mind other major prognosticatory threads in fantasy and science fiction: Asimov’s psychohistory and Herbert’s spice-fueled insights. Hobb has some connections to both; I have long commented on the ways in which the Fitz-centric novels emulate the Asimovian encyclopedia-entries in their chapter-beginnings, and Hobb has geographical associations with Herbert. The selective breeding programs, the cold calculations, the access to multiple possible futures and the refinement of predictions from years of gathered observations all speak to a similar narrative construction among the three (and, doubtlessly, others, but I am limited in my observations to what I have read often and know well).

In Asimov and Herbert, the protagonists work to gain control of the prognostication; such is not apt to be the case in Hobb, although some of that is because they already have some degree of control over it. The Fool has been, and it seems that Bee is, a White Prophet, whose dreams foretell events to come; they already have learned what awaits, at least to some extent. The rest is foreshadowed in Fitz’s reaction to the Fool’s description; he is horrified at the implications, and Fitz’s horror often results in things dying, not always peacefully or swiftly.

As in the earlier works, Hobb’s corpus invites consideration of the tension between fate and free will. I’m not as up on the philosophical work done in that line as I probably ought to be (although I will plead that there is only so much time, and I do have other things that demand my attention and study), so I don’t know that I am well positioned to explicate the parallels and borrowings in that regard. I’m not sure that there’s been much work done that way, either (although I do have some more items to review for the Fedwren Project that might speak to that end). It seems a project worth undertaking, though, even if it’s not one of my many scholarly somedays…

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After lyrics from Hap Gladheart, “The Fool’s Tale” begins with Fitz returning to Chade’s old hidden rooms, where he inadvertently wakes the Fool into a trauma response. The two confer for a time together, the Fool asking about Bee and relating some of the circumstances of his imprisonment and abuse before resuming his account of his life since his ragged parting from Fitz. Passing through Skill-pillars to Kelsingra and beyond, the Fool and Prilkop made for Clerres, and the Fool interrupts his account to muse on one moment in his torment and the arrival of one of his messengers to Fitz.

Conversation pivots to the Fool’s encounter with Bee, which he had misunderstood, and falters in favor of Fitz’s medical attentions to the Fool. His Skill reaches into the Fool, and the extent of his injuries and underlying illness is made clear to him once again. He bends his magic to the task of healing, only to find himself roused out of a stupor by a frantic Chade and Nettle. Discussion of events ensues, and Fitz is given additional assignments; after Nettle leaves, Chade and Fitz confer more closely, including about Ash. Once Chade leaves, Fitz makes to see to himself, noting strange wounds whose source confuses him. Setting the matter aside, he retires for what sleep he can get.

The lyrics that introduce the chapter draw my attention, as might be expected for an old English major. I reproduce them here to facilitate discussion (they’re on pg. 57 of the edition of the text I’m reading, the first edition hardcover from 2015); the words, of course, are not my own:

When winter’s clutch is cold and dark
And game is scarce and forest stark,
This songster to the hearth retreats
To warm his cheeks and icy feet.

But on the hill and in the glen
Are hunters hardier than men.
With lolling tongues and eyes that gleam
They surge through snow with breath like steam.

For in the hunt there is no morrow,
Time does not wait. There is no sorrow
As blood spills black and snarls are rife.
For life is meat, and death brings life.

The lyrics given are in iambic tetrameter couplets, which would “normally” indicate some light or satiric thrust due to the long-standing association with Hudibras. The subject matter belies the association, however, particularly in the final line presented (which, it must be noted, may not be the final line of the song); it does call to mind–appropriately, given the generic associations–some of the verse penned by JRR Tolkien and included in, say, The Silmarillion. (The Lay of Leithian is an example.) The line-structure suggests, further, that the kind of minstrelsy in which Hap is trained follows a common 4/4 pattern; each line suggests a measure of music, with each stanza being a single verse in a song, such that a brief musical refrain can be imagined easily between the stanzas. In the former case, the association with generic standards reinforces the notion that, despite Hobb’s divergences from it, she remains rooted in the Tolkienian fantasy tradition (which she acknowledges); the reinforcement helps keep her work accessible to readers. Similarly, the implied musical structure at work in Hap’s song is one likely to be familiar to Hobb’s presumed primary readership; its inclusion, then, helps with accessibility. Her readers are presented with something new that is also familiar, allowing them to more easily engage with the text–something about which Hobb has expressed concern. That concern would appear to be addressed in the introductory material to the present chapter, as elsewhere in the Elderlings corpus.

There’s also a lovely bit of additive foreshadowing at work. The messenger that had reached Fitz at Withywoods, whose body he had burned, had reported being infected in such a way as to make contact with her a peril. In the present chapter, Fitz has had prolonged physical contact with a gravely injured and long-ill Fool. He also shows up with strange wounds whose source he cannot recall, and he makes an assumption about them he does not pursue. Hobb being Hobb, and Fitz being Fitz, it is clear that he is in another poor position, and once again through a lack of vigilance that may be understandable in the situation but which still does not argue in his favor.

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Following a set of instructions from one of the Servants that touches on their designs, “The Taking of Bee” begins with Bee returning to self-awareness and awareness of her situation after her seeming ensorcellment. She assesses herself and her surroundings, and considers the attack on Withywoods and its effects. Watching others under seeming domination, she purposes to remain as secret as she can, considering her captors and the nascent dissension among them. Seeing what appears to be a chance to escape, she sets out again, only to find herself stymied by the powers of her captors–especially Vindeliar, who is the source of the ensorcellment at work.

Bee watches as Shun begins to be assailed, the voice of Wolf-Father sounding in her mind as she does. Preparations for departure are made, and Shun fights against her prospective assailant, and Bee announces herself to interdict retribution against Shun. Her announcement has the desired effect, revealing her to be of particular value to her captors: Kardef, Kindrel, Soula, Reppin, Alaria, the aforementioned Vindeliar, and Lingstra Dwalia. Shun is ordered tended to and protected, and some discussion ensues about her fate that Dwalia quashes. Bee is taken, and she considers both the lack of response from the people of Withywoods and her separation from them and her father. As they leave, however, Bee notes Perseverance, watching clandestinely.

I note with some interest that one of the characters depicted in the present chapter is Ellik, whose depredations are known. As ever, I do appreciate gestures to show that a unified milieu is, in fact, unified. I also appreciate seeing Ellik reduced, although it is not quite as much as would satisfy; although he is not Chancellor of Chalced, and although he seems to have had to hire himself out, he yet remains in command of others. How he managed to escape the wrack of Chalced and the fall of Andronicus is not clear, although it is not implausible that he would do so; I do not recall as I reread the present chapter that his death was depicted, so…

I note, too, that the present chapter does a fair bit of additional exposition, both showing that the Servants have magics other than the prophecies of the White Prophets available to them–something like the Skill, perhaps, if not actually that magic (consider the Pale Woman)–and giving quite a few names to follow. The former reinforces the danger that the Servants present; the latter, while presenting a challenge to some readers in introducing a number of characters in rapid sequence, does offer more possibilities for narration. Each character, after all, allows for another set of interactions, and it is in interactions that stories inhere. Further, since it’s early in the text, there is plenty of time to learn the characters better–or to watch them die; it is, after all, a novel by Hobb, and she’s not exactly averse to introducing characters only to kill them off…

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Following an in-milieu commentary on secrets, “Lord Feldspar” begins with Fitz tidying up from the meal and preparing himself to assume the role of Lord Feldspar that has been laid out for him. After he dresses, Chade enters upon him, and the two talk together of access to the hidden corridors of Buckkeep. Chade rebukes Fitz somewhat for his inattentions at Withywoods, and Chade offers details of the assignment as Feldspar and a briefing in support of the same. After a brief consultation regarding the Fool and Bee, Fitz begins his work for Chade again.

Fitz emerges as Feldspar into the hubbub of Winterfest preparations and celebrations, moving easily through the throng as he observes his surroundings. He does mark the presence of Witmaster Web, working to avoid contact with the man and following his assignment as he can. The procession of Six Duchies royalty–the former queen, Kettricken, as well as King Dutiful and Queen Elliania and their sons–and Fitz notes changes in their appearances and demeanors since he last met with them. He also works to immerse himself more fully in his role, finding persons of interest and relaying information about them through the Skill to Chade. His mind turns to his daughter, and he thinks of her, partly through the Skill, before retiring for the evening.

Something that occurred to me suddenly (and belatedly, I concede) is that the cover illustration on the edition of the text I’m reading presents Fitz as backhandedly angelic. He has a halo provided by the O in Hobb’s name, and shadowy wings spread from his shoulders. Both are darker than is typical of “angels,” but then, I’ve long since noted the ways in which Fitz is atypical (here, among others), and I find myself thinking that, if he is an angel, Fitz is an angel of death–still angelic, sure, but hardly a “light” figure. Not a stunning observation, I admit, and one reliant on paratext rather than text (however, this seems relevant), so hardly authorial or narrative, but still something to attend to.

More germane to the present chapter, however, there is some interest in the choices surrounding Fitz’s current alias as Lord Feldspar. The name itself refers to one of the most common minerals to be found, noted for its use in glassmaking and ceramics, among others. (Sometimes, Wikipedia is useful, and this page seems to cite its sources, which helps.) Hobb’s often-evidenced predilection towards emblematic names shows up in this; it’s…appropriate for an ostensibly nondescript observer to have the name of a common thing used in something designed to let images pass through. Similarly, Feldspar is reportedly at Buckkeep to negotiate regarding a new vein of copper ore, and copper is associated both with metalworking from early through current incarnations of it and with money, being the traditional primary component of the most basic currencies. It’s effectively everywhere and in everything, and if it’s more useful in conjunction with others, it’s far from useless on its own…and that’s hardly an inaccurate description of Fitz. Funny how that works out.

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Following a recollection of Nighteyes’s early experience, “Winterfest Eve at Buckkeep” opens with Fitz starting awake in unfamiliar surroundings, returning to his human experience from the dream of being a wolf. Fitz soon assesses himself and his situation, and he attends to the Fool, noting the changes that had befallen him since they had last seen one another and ruminating on the Fool’s request that he kill the Servants. He ruminates, too, on how he has left Bee and Nettle’s decision about her sister, and he notes the changes that have been enacted on Chade’s old hidden chambers as he works to set things to rights.

As he works, Fitz reaches out to Chade through the Skill, only to find him engaged in diplomatic matters concerning Kelsingra and its potential alliance with Chalced. After brief consideration, Fitz leaves off thoughts about those efforts and resumes his work to attend to the Fool, slipping clandestinely back into the halls of Buckkeep and despondently considering his separation from Bee as he takes in the sights of holiday preparations and changes to Buckkeep Town as he approaches it. Amid his shopping, for the Fool and for Bee, he considers the difficulties involved in resuming his former identity as Badgerlock, and he returns to Chade’s hidden rooms without incident.

Once there, Fitz notes the service provided to the chambers and pens a letter to Bee. He is soon disturbed by the approach of a serving-boy, Ash, whom Fitz soon dismisses. Ash leaves a message from Chade behind, one that offers Fitz an identity as Lord Feldspar and commissions him with information-gathering–something that offers a perverse excitement, along with a reasonably complete kit for the clandestine work in which Fitz was trained long ago.

The Fool wakes, and he and Fitz talk together briefly before the Fool works to navigate himself to the chambers’ table, where food awaits. Progress is slow, but he reaches his goal, and at the table, the two exchange some reports of their doings, the Fool noting that Bee was the “son” he had sought. Fitz notes that Bee is his daughter, and some argument about that point ensues, leaving the Fool confused and either sullen or fatigued. Fitz then begins to do the work Chade has asked of him.

As all sequels seemingly must, the present novel begins with exposition, bringing a reader abreast of in-milieu current events and foregrounding major threads to be pursued in the text. Hobb handles the events-summary well, using Fitz’s confusion at waking in unfamiliar surroundings to smooth over assessment of them and the situation that puts him among them, as well as using the conversation between Fitz and the Fool to establish their current tensions. The message to Chade, something entirely reasonable to include, also permits the swift establishment of current international contexts, and Chade’s machinations give Fitz a reason to go out and get involved in larger events, making more plot possible. It’s something I appreciate as I begin to read the novel again.

As noted, this is not the first time I have read the novel. I discuss my first time doing so here, a little more than nine years ago as I write this, and while much of what is in my initial comments remains true as I write now, I have to wonder how much of it will continue to do so for me. After all, I first discuss the novel after having completed a reading of it, and I am not all the way back through the novel again as I write this. Too, I am a different man now than I was then; I am not a still-aspiring academic, and while I was a father then, nine years in the life of a child is quite a long time, and a parent cannot help but change as the child does. And some of what I discuss has changed; there seems to be much more attention given to world-building and the implications of fantastical elements in texts now than there was then, whether just by me or by creators themselves.

I do look forward to the continued rereading, truly. Looking back to some of the earlier portions of it so as to pull up references made in the present chapter (and I’ve doubtlessly missed some along the way; I’ve read and reread and written about Hobb’s works so many times they form a sort of background noise for me, and I don’t always note everything in them that there is to find) has reminded me of how long I’ve been working on this project, doing so in fits and starts along the way, updating inconsistently as I can steal moments to attend to it among the many other things that clamor for, that demand and deserve, my attention and my efforts. I have changed as I’ve done this work, although not so much because I’ve done it and continue to do it as for other reasons; having some record of the change is…interesting, at least for me.

I hope the rereading continues to be interesting for you.

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

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An excerpt from a travelogue discussing the White Prophets precedes “The Raid,” which chapter begins with Bee noting her return to Withywoods with Lant and Shun. She reports a gloss of their comments, and she marks their arrival at her home with displeasure. They leave her behind in the stables, from which household servants retrieve her and make over her. She reports events to them, although she meets with some disbelief at her account. But after she is assisted in and into her chambers, Bee tries to puzzle out more of what she has experienced and what her father said to her, repairing to his study to do so. Within, she confers with Wolf-Father, who offers comfort and cryptic wisdom.

Bee wakes in the morning to a busy estate as it makes preparations for the Winterfest holiday. Bee is again tended to, making ready for the day as she puzzles yet further. She manages to slip away to her private sanctum in the walls, spending a little time there before sitting to her lessons. Perseverance joins her there, discussing with her the dogs that Fitz had acquired. Lessons begin at length, going poorly until commotion outside prompts their interruption. Investigation soon reveals the commotion to be an attack on Withywoods, and Bee and Perseverance urge the other children to flee to safety. Bee opens the hidden corridors of Withywoods to them, and she and Perseverance attempt to obscure their passage. Their flight continues, and they see the members of the household and their assailants, the latter interrogating the former.

Perseverance heads off to seek his father, leaving Bee to hide herself. She sneaks back towards the estate, determined suddenly to protect a people she recognizes as her own, but she encounters Perseverance. The two ride in haste for the nearest town, but their passage is marked, and they are pursued. Perseverance is injured, and Bee is taken, seemingly ensorcelled by the delight of her attackers at finding “the unexpected son” at last.

The epilogue that follows turns to Fitz and a rumination on memory–and the descent of his life beginning then.

And here it is, the end of the novel–and what an ending! If it is the case that the previous chapter identifies the principal forces at work in the novel, the final chapter brings them into view more overtly and personalizes the problem they present for Fitz, which problem he realizes in the epilogue. The chapter also points up the instability of gender categories in the Elderlings novels, a topic treated by Katavić, Mohon, Räsänen, Sanderson, and Schouwenaars (find abstracts and citations to the pieces in question here, please), among others; Bee, despite being female and presenting as feminine, is regarded by her captors as being a brother and an unexpected son.

It might be thought that placing such an assertion on the lips of antagonistic characters renders the assertion a faulty one, something to be scorned. As with many things Hobb does, however, the presentation is more nuanced than that. The Fool, after all, believes that the figure sought by the Servants is a son, and, on his word, Fitz looks for a son springing from the Fool. The latter should, from experience, be wary of such claims from the Fool, there having been significant tension about the Fool’s willingness (and ability) to present as a woman. The former, knowing from lived experience that such categories are unstable–certainly as applies to the Fool–have even less excuse. It must be noted, however, that Hobb often presents her protagonists as being wrong; it’s a touch of authenticity I appreciate, overall, although the (large) part of me that reads affectively is annoyed at some of the failings on display.

As if I do any better in my own life. (I likely do not.)

If I return again to Freytag’s pyramid (which may or may not be useful, admittedly) and regard the trilogy as the structure at work (which is more useful, given that even the edition I am reading–a first edition–shows “Book I of the Fitz and the Fool Trilogy” on its jacket), the final chapter and epilogue of the first volume can be read as having presented the inciting incident, ending formal exposition and setting up for rising action to come in the second book of the series. From the chapter and epilogue, and without thinking in terms of a rereading, the rising action could well be expected to be flight of Bee’s kidnappers and pursuit thereof by Fitz–although reading within the context of Hobb’s Elderlings novels and, more broadly, in her body of work would suggest that there will be no shortage of complications for both groups. Indeed, it would hardly be a Fitz novel without him running into problems, no few of his own making. (Another point of affective identification, that.) It’s been some time since I’ve read the text, however, and longer since it was more than a scan for passages to cite in the service of some argument I was trying to make. I don’t remember if I’m right…but I look forward to finding out.

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