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i_read_whatLast time, we learned that the plague reached Homana-Mujhar, causing our heroes to race back where they'll use their remarkable knowledge of medicine to save a lot of people.
Except, you know, they don't have a remarkable knowledge of medicine, so fuck if I know what they're actually going to accomplish.
So the chapter starts off pretty bleak:
The land lay in ruin. Although the Solindish plains lacked the heavy forests of Homana, it had boasted its share of scrubby trees, tangled hedges, thick turf, lush grasses. Now there was nothing, nothing at all—only charred turf, skeletal remains of blackened trees, ash and grit in place of grass. The land rolled on forever in its funerary finery, stretching eastward toward Homana.
Okay, credit where it's due. This is genuinely horrifying. Well done, Roberson.
Niall is sickened to the point of tears, wondering how the Solindishmen could destroy so much of their own homeland. Ian's response is surprisingly empathetic:
“Desperation?” Ian, also hooded, shook his head a little. “Dedication, determination…perhaps those and more. I do not doubt it was a difficult decision.”
“But to slay people? Their own people?”
His shrug was swallowed by the bulk of heavy leathers. “If you are engaged in a war to which you are fully committed, and a portion of your own people refuse to join or render aid, perhaps it becomes easier to sentence them to death.”
“Indiscriminate murder?” I stared at him in amazement. “How?”
Ian pulled the wrap from his mouth. “I did not say I understood it, Niall—I only offer a possible explanation.”
I found myself thinking recently of the ways in which the Niall-Ian dynamic parallels the Carillon-Finn dynamic in Song of Homana. In both cases, we have a young, untried prince with an older, more experienced advisor/mentor/guide. But there are differences too. Niall's a lot less confident than Carillon was, while Ian shows a far greater capacity for empathy than Finn ever showed. Also both boys are considerably less rapey.
And less homoerotic, which is probably good, because they ARE brothers.
Anyway, Niall doesn't think it's a man's place to determine the fates of innocent people like that. Whereupon Ian points out that it WILL be Niall's place one day: he'll be King.
“Rujho—of course it will. What do you think kingship entails? You have attended council meetings, have heard our jehan render judgments. He makes choices, rujho. So will you.”
“Our jehan would never order a thing as ghastly as this,” I declared. “Murder, destruction…rujho, look around you! Crops ruined, dwellings burned down…even the livestock and wild game stripped of food and homes. How will the land recover?”
“It will. It will take time, but vegetation will grow back, crops will recover, crofts and hovels will be rebuilt, even the game will begin to return.” He looked around grimly. “This is a waste, a terrible, senseless waste, but it is not complete destruction. The land will live again.”
I shivered. “Idiocy,” I muttered. “When we have won this war, the Solindish will see that this benefits none of their people.”
“No, no benefit,” Ian agreed. “But if you are going to lose a war, you take desperate measures. And if that war is lost regardless of those measures, at least you have left nothing to benefit the victor.”
I really like these little kingship lessons we get here and there. I suppose I ought to find them repetitive, but I don't. These are important things for Niall to think about.
Niall says that maybe the a'saii are right, and Ian should be the heir, but Ian negates that in an interesting way:
He shook his head at once. “I am not better suited, Niall. You do not live in my skin; you cannot know how I think, how I feel about things. I am not right for the Lion. That task is meant for you.”
This story, like Song, is in first person. We live in Niall's head. And as I mentioned before, it really does seem like Ian (and Isolde) have their own things going on that Niall isn't really aware of. I actually rather wish Roberson WOULD have written something from Ian's point of view.
...assuming she didn't ruin him, but she's been good so far.
What if Niall dies, though, he points out. If he got the plague, or had succumbed to the Sorcerer's Tooth. Which actually does raise the interesting question of how succession works in Homana. It doesn't seem to be entirely primogeniture. Carillon was Shaine's heir, even while his father, Shaine's brother, was still alive. The Homanans at least floated the idea of supplanting Niall with Carillon's bastard as an heir to Donal.
But it does seem as though Brennan and Hart would trump Ian, since he points out that Niall has two sons, with possibly another on the way. Though the question of a regency is interesting. We've theorized that Aislinn had been in charge when Donal was absent from the throne, but that's never been clearly established in the series. And certainly GISELLA wouldn't be competent to do so, poor thing. Ian might be the best person for a regency after all.
But I digress. This bit is cute though:
I shrugged. “But for an accident of birth, it might be you who was meant for the Lion. In the clans, there would be no question of it. You were firstborn. And yet, because of Homanan law, only Aislinn’s son can inherit. It seems unfair.”
“It is not.” Ian reined his stallion around a frozen hummock of charred turf, searching automatically for Tasha. Against the blackened, frost-rimed earth, her ruddy coat glowed like heated bronze. “It is what the gods intended, or they would have put us in one another’s places.” He smiled. “I am the fortunate one, rujho. My choices will be easier than yours.”
“No.” I disagreed in pointed affability. “Because I will make you help me with mine.”
My brother laughed.
Awww.
So they continue onward. Niall wants to avoid the charred crofts and remains of dwellings, but Ian insists they stop, claiming that a man couldn't afford to ignore any opportunity. I'm not sure what opportunity Ian thinks he'll find, but Niall reluctantly agrees. I suppose there's always a chance to find a survivor?
It's still pretty traumatic though. And Niall keeps thinking about plagues and white wolves:
I thought often of the plague. So clearly I recalled how, more than a year earlier—nearly two—the furrier in Mujhara’s Market Square had spoken of a plague in the north, believed to be carried by white wolves. And I recalled also, but a six-month ago, how the guardsmen seeking me had spoken of white wolves as well, desiring to slay me for the bounty. The thing had begun so long ago, and yet we had ignored it, believing it a fleeting thing, a piece of nonsense embroidered with falsehood, a story told at the sheepherders’ fires to keep them awake while dogs warded the flocks against wolves of any color.
But now the tale was true. Now the beast was loose.
...is it? HAVE they proven a tie between the plague and a white wolf? Roberson seems to believe this has been established, but I'm not sure I agree. The plague exists, sure, but Niall seems a little too sure of the cause, given his lack of direct experience with it. That said, I do think it makes for a nice little obstacle: Niall's wolf shape, remember, is a white wolf.
So they reach the border, and fascinatingly, the destruction stops there. Apparently the Solindish forces have taken care not to raze anything in Homanan territory. How the fuck does THAT make sense? We're at war with you, so we're going to torch our stuff and leave yours alone??
But anyway, they're met by a patrol of Homanans, who notice the lir and Ian's eyes, and ID them both as a Cheysuli. And it's a fascinating look at how times have changed, because they don't actually greet them with hostility. Or at least not the usual racist kind. They warn about the plague and identify themselves as serving "the son of Carillon."
There's some interesting information to be gathered here. First, because of the war, the heirship petition was set aside. They plan to revisit it after peace is established. They indeed see Niall as a murderer. They also are aware of the a'saii. APPARENTLY, they tried to get the a'saii to join with them:
So, even the Homanans knew of the zealots. “Why?” I asked aloud. “Have the a’saii joined with you?”
“We asked. They declined: our objectives are too different. And so the pact was never made.” He shrugged, rewrapping his dark blue muffler. “But I think the a’saii are finished; too many of them are dead,”
They were my enemy, the a’saii. But they were of my race, my clan, my kin; I grieved for their deaths. I grieved for the deaths of their lir.
Um. Why would this even be a thought in their heads?! The a'saii want a CHEYSULI monarch. These Make Homana Great Again sorts want the exact opposite. Unless they're arguing for some kind of partition.
Ian asks about the Homanan deaths, and Niall notes from the furtive looks and bleak expressions that the bastard's army has also suffered losses. But they claim they'll win, as they have the gods on their side.
...god, it's weird how prophetic these books get sometimes, right?
Anyway, they let them pass.
In Homana, they don't get a particularly warm reception either. It's because they're Cheysuli, but the reason is different: Cheysuli are perceived as carrying the plague. Which makes absolutely no sense, but racism is racism, so there you go.
So anyway, at around a week out from Mujhara, the boys stop at a croft, and are warmly welcomed by the old woman within. She smiles toothlessly when she sees their lir and their gold.
Aye,” she said, “I knew you were Cheysuli. Even buried under fur and leather. You have the eyes—” she looked at Ian “—and the animals are more than pets. Lir, are they? Aye. Lovely beasts.”
Her white hair was quite fine, thinning; it straggled out of a tight-wrapped knot of braid at the crown of her head. All the days of the world were in the tapestry of her face. Her faded blue eyes were rheumy, eaten away with the promise of milk-blindness, but even when she could no longer see with them, I knew she would see with her heart.
“Lady,” I said, “Leijhana tu’sai.”
She sat in her chair and rocked a little, grinning at my words. “Old Tongue.” She nodded, knotting her hands in the ends of her faded brown shawl. “Been so long since I heard it. But even then, it was strange to me. My mouth did not want to shape the words.”
Now THIS is interesting, isn't it?
She is not Cheysuli, she says, and she's not afraid of them. It's just her and her cat here. She doesn't believe "this Ihlini mischief" will send her to the gods.
This lady knows a lot of shit, doesn't she?
They ask why she says the plague is Ihlini:
“Born of Strahan, aye.” Again she nodded. Her eyes were closed. She rocked. “It has been coming a long, long time. I remember the days of Tynstar, in Solinde, when he first told Bellam that Homana was his for the taking. And so together they took it, once Shaine was slain in the Great Hall of Homana-Mujhar. Tynstar chased Carillon out of his homeland and into exile in foreign realms….” Her recital trailed off. Ian and I stared at her in silence, shocked to hear her repeat so much of our House’s history. “But he came home again, he did, and took Homana back, and then Tynstar stole his youth. Tynstar was strong, but so was Carillon. And in the end, Carillon prevailed.” She smiled briefly; it faded quickly enough. “But Tynstar sired a son on Carillon’s queen, and now that son is loosed upon the land. Like the plague of Asar-Suti.”
She said nothing more. In the silence of the tiny room Ian and I waited for her to finish. But she said nothing more.
This isn't really an explanation, or an answer to their question. It does however indicate that this lady knows a LOT of shit.
Which of course leads to a pretty fucking big revelation:
“Lady,” I said at last, “how is it you know so much of Tynstar? So much of Shaine?”
“Because I was alive when Shaine was Mujhar.” Her rheumy eyes creased in good-natured humor. “And Tynstar was my lord.”
So yeah, this lady is Ihlini. Niall leaps up with a hand on his dagger, before he realizes/remembers that this is a tiny old woman. And I mean, given "Sef", it's hard to blame him. Ihlini are tricky.
This one seems happy to talk though. Ian asks why she's in Homana. It's because she likes it. It's her home. She goes one step further, offering them a pink, multi-faced crystal: it's her lifestone. If they think she intends harm, they can crush it or throw it in the fire, "and the world will lack one more Ihlini witch."
Interesting! This adds some context to Strahan's fear when Finn held one of his stones. Obviously it couldn't have been his MAIN stone, but if there's some kind of connection, then it might still have caused a lot of pain.
Niall asks about the stone.
“We have no lir,” she told me. “We have a stone instead. It is a locus for our power.” Her eyes were on the stone. “I have so little, now; I am too old. And I renounced Asar-Suti.”
“Renounced him!” Ian stared at her. “And you were left alive?”
The old woman tilted her head a little. “Betimes I think I was not. But that is only because I am so old. I lost my youth when I broke faith with the Seker. It was the cost. And now, I wait for the day I will die.”
So I was saying in a previous chapter, that there might be a reason that the Ihlini can do more than the Cheysuli during a direct confrontation. My tentative theory is that it's because of Asar-Suti/the Seker, the god of the Underworld. The Seker seems to give the Ihlini who follow him a major jump to their powers. Including the lifespan, as we see from the lady's explanation:
I frowned a little. “How old, lady? How many years have you?”
Briefly, she counted on fragile fingers. And then she grinned her toothless grin. “Only two,” she said. “Two hundred. Not so old, when you think of how old Tynstar was. Or how old Strahan will be, if no one seeks him out and slays him.” She looked at us both. “You might,” she said. “Go to him, seek him out, end the Seker’s plague. It is the only way you will save your people. The only way the world will survive.”
She tells them that if they can take his lifestone, his power will be ended. If they can't, they should at least "destroy the white wolf."
This leads to some confusion for Niall, who thinks she means himself. Niall, earlier, you established that a white wolf caused the plague. Why would she mean you?! But anyway, she figures out from his reaction that he's the Prince of Homana, and insists he must go. Go home, then go to Valgaard, Strahan's fortress.
Ian asks, gently, what she wants and why they should believe her. She's surprised that the truth isn't enough. And then things get really interesting:
“Reason.” She whispered it to herself. “I am too old; I have forgotten what hatred lies between the Firstborn’s children—what prejudice there is—”
“Lady.” Ian’s tone was distinctly displeased; I recalled how he had reacted when Lillith had discussed our supposed kinship on the voyage to Atvia. “We are not blood-bound, lady. Not Ihlini and Cheysuli.”
“No?” She smiled, shrugged, rewrapped her faded shawl. “No, then. As you wish.”
I looked at Serri. Lir?
He remained conspicuously silent. Old the woman might be, and lacking most of her magic, but the link was affected by her nearness to us.
...maybe. Or maybe not. The Lir have ALWAYS been quiet on the matter of the Ihlini.
But there's something to consider here. The Ihlini appear to have fairly long lives. At least the ones who follow the Seker. This lady is two hundred. Lillith's about a hundred and perfectly hale. Tynstar was three hundred. There are fewer generations for information to be lost.
Maybe they do remember something the Cheysuli, who have normal lifespans (and have suffered at least one major purge) don't.
They thank her nonetheless, and she decides that she will give them proof:
“Reason to believe.” She pressed herself out of the chair. She was tiny, fragile, bowed down with the weight of her age. “Proof,” she murmured. “My gift to you—my gift to Homana—” And with amazing accuracy she threw the crystal into the fire.
“No!” I leaped for her, trying to catch her in my arms as the lifestone fell into the flames, but by the time I touched the woman she was only made of dust. Only dust in the shape of a woman, and then even that was banished.
Well, it seems that Ihlini are not, in fact, all chaotic evil after all. Chaotic DRAMATIC on the other hand...
And with the boys trying to process that, the chapter ends.
Except, you know, they don't have a remarkable knowledge of medicine, so fuck if I know what they're actually going to accomplish.
So the chapter starts off pretty bleak:
The land lay in ruin. Although the Solindish plains lacked the heavy forests of Homana, it had boasted its share of scrubby trees, tangled hedges, thick turf, lush grasses. Now there was nothing, nothing at all—only charred turf, skeletal remains of blackened trees, ash and grit in place of grass. The land rolled on forever in its funerary finery, stretching eastward toward Homana.
Okay, credit where it's due. This is genuinely horrifying. Well done, Roberson.
Niall is sickened to the point of tears, wondering how the Solindishmen could destroy so much of their own homeland. Ian's response is surprisingly empathetic:
“Desperation?” Ian, also hooded, shook his head a little. “Dedication, determination…perhaps those and more. I do not doubt it was a difficult decision.”
“But to slay people? Their own people?”
His shrug was swallowed by the bulk of heavy leathers. “If you are engaged in a war to which you are fully committed, and a portion of your own people refuse to join or render aid, perhaps it becomes easier to sentence them to death.”
“Indiscriminate murder?” I stared at him in amazement. “How?”
Ian pulled the wrap from his mouth. “I did not say I understood it, Niall—I only offer a possible explanation.”
I found myself thinking recently of the ways in which the Niall-Ian dynamic parallels the Carillon-Finn dynamic in Song of Homana. In both cases, we have a young, untried prince with an older, more experienced advisor/mentor/guide. But there are differences too. Niall's a lot less confident than Carillon was, while Ian shows a far greater capacity for empathy than Finn ever showed. Also both boys are considerably less rapey.
And less homoerotic, which is probably good, because they ARE brothers.
Anyway, Niall doesn't think it's a man's place to determine the fates of innocent people like that. Whereupon Ian points out that it WILL be Niall's place one day: he'll be King.
“Rujho—of course it will. What do you think kingship entails? You have attended council meetings, have heard our jehan render judgments. He makes choices, rujho. So will you.”
“Our jehan would never order a thing as ghastly as this,” I declared. “Murder, destruction…rujho, look around you! Crops ruined, dwellings burned down…even the livestock and wild game stripped of food and homes. How will the land recover?”
“It will. It will take time, but vegetation will grow back, crops will recover, crofts and hovels will be rebuilt, even the game will begin to return.” He looked around grimly. “This is a waste, a terrible, senseless waste, but it is not complete destruction. The land will live again.”
I shivered. “Idiocy,” I muttered. “When we have won this war, the Solindish will see that this benefits none of their people.”
“No, no benefit,” Ian agreed. “But if you are going to lose a war, you take desperate measures. And if that war is lost regardless of those measures, at least you have left nothing to benefit the victor.”
I really like these little kingship lessons we get here and there. I suppose I ought to find them repetitive, but I don't. These are important things for Niall to think about.
Niall says that maybe the a'saii are right, and Ian should be the heir, but Ian negates that in an interesting way:
He shook his head at once. “I am not better suited, Niall. You do not live in my skin; you cannot know how I think, how I feel about things. I am not right for the Lion. That task is meant for you.”
This story, like Song, is in first person. We live in Niall's head. And as I mentioned before, it really does seem like Ian (and Isolde) have their own things going on that Niall isn't really aware of. I actually rather wish Roberson WOULD have written something from Ian's point of view.
...assuming she didn't ruin him, but she's been good so far.
What if Niall dies, though, he points out. If he got the plague, or had succumbed to the Sorcerer's Tooth. Which actually does raise the interesting question of how succession works in Homana. It doesn't seem to be entirely primogeniture. Carillon was Shaine's heir, even while his father, Shaine's brother, was still alive. The Homanans at least floated the idea of supplanting Niall with Carillon's bastard as an heir to Donal.
But it does seem as though Brennan and Hart would trump Ian, since he points out that Niall has two sons, with possibly another on the way. Though the question of a regency is interesting. We've theorized that Aislinn had been in charge when Donal was absent from the throne, but that's never been clearly established in the series. And certainly GISELLA wouldn't be competent to do so, poor thing. Ian might be the best person for a regency after all.
But I digress. This bit is cute though:
I shrugged. “But for an accident of birth, it might be you who was meant for the Lion. In the clans, there would be no question of it. You were firstborn. And yet, because of Homanan law, only Aislinn’s son can inherit. It seems unfair.”
“It is not.” Ian reined his stallion around a frozen hummock of charred turf, searching automatically for Tasha. Against the blackened, frost-rimed earth, her ruddy coat glowed like heated bronze. “It is what the gods intended, or they would have put us in one another’s places.” He smiled. “I am the fortunate one, rujho. My choices will be easier than yours.”
“No.” I disagreed in pointed affability. “Because I will make you help me with mine.”
My brother laughed.
Awww.
So they continue onward. Niall wants to avoid the charred crofts and remains of dwellings, but Ian insists they stop, claiming that a man couldn't afford to ignore any opportunity. I'm not sure what opportunity Ian thinks he'll find, but Niall reluctantly agrees. I suppose there's always a chance to find a survivor?
It's still pretty traumatic though. And Niall keeps thinking about plagues and white wolves:
I thought often of the plague. So clearly I recalled how, more than a year earlier—nearly two—the furrier in Mujhara’s Market Square had spoken of a plague in the north, believed to be carried by white wolves. And I recalled also, but a six-month ago, how the guardsmen seeking me had spoken of white wolves as well, desiring to slay me for the bounty. The thing had begun so long ago, and yet we had ignored it, believing it a fleeting thing, a piece of nonsense embroidered with falsehood, a story told at the sheepherders’ fires to keep them awake while dogs warded the flocks against wolves of any color.
But now the tale was true. Now the beast was loose.
...is it? HAVE they proven a tie between the plague and a white wolf? Roberson seems to believe this has been established, but I'm not sure I agree. The plague exists, sure, but Niall seems a little too sure of the cause, given his lack of direct experience with it. That said, I do think it makes for a nice little obstacle: Niall's wolf shape, remember, is a white wolf.
So they reach the border, and fascinatingly, the destruction stops there. Apparently the Solindish forces have taken care not to raze anything in Homanan territory. How the fuck does THAT make sense? We're at war with you, so we're going to torch our stuff and leave yours alone??
But anyway, they're met by a patrol of Homanans, who notice the lir and Ian's eyes, and ID them both as a Cheysuli. And it's a fascinating look at how times have changed, because they don't actually greet them with hostility. Or at least not the usual racist kind. They warn about the plague and identify themselves as serving "the son of Carillon."
There's some interesting information to be gathered here. First, because of the war, the heirship petition was set aside. They plan to revisit it after peace is established. They indeed see Niall as a murderer. They also are aware of the a'saii. APPARENTLY, they tried to get the a'saii to join with them:
So, even the Homanans knew of the zealots. “Why?” I asked aloud. “Have the a’saii joined with you?”
“We asked. They declined: our objectives are too different. And so the pact was never made.” He shrugged, rewrapping his dark blue muffler. “But I think the a’saii are finished; too many of them are dead,”
They were my enemy, the a’saii. But they were of my race, my clan, my kin; I grieved for their deaths. I grieved for the deaths of their lir.
Um. Why would this even be a thought in their heads?! The a'saii want a CHEYSULI monarch. These Make Homana Great Again sorts want the exact opposite. Unless they're arguing for some kind of partition.
Ian asks about the Homanan deaths, and Niall notes from the furtive looks and bleak expressions that the bastard's army has also suffered losses. But they claim they'll win, as they have the gods on their side.
...god, it's weird how prophetic these books get sometimes, right?
Anyway, they let them pass.
In Homana, they don't get a particularly warm reception either. It's because they're Cheysuli, but the reason is different: Cheysuli are perceived as carrying the plague. Which makes absolutely no sense, but racism is racism, so there you go.
So anyway, at around a week out from Mujhara, the boys stop at a croft, and are warmly welcomed by the old woman within. She smiles toothlessly when she sees their lir and their gold.
Aye,” she said, “I knew you were Cheysuli. Even buried under fur and leather. You have the eyes—” she looked at Ian “—and the animals are more than pets. Lir, are they? Aye. Lovely beasts.”
Her white hair was quite fine, thinning; it straggled out of a tight-wrapped knot of braid at the crown of her head. All the days of the world were in the tapestry of her face. Her faded blue eyes were rheumy, eaten away with the promise of milk-blindness, but even when she could no longer see with them, I knew she would see with her heart.
“Lady,” I said, “Leijhana tu’sai.”
She sat in her chair and rocked a little, grinning at my words. “Old Tongue.” She nodded, knotting her hands in the ends of her faded brown shawl. “Been so long since I heard it. But even then, it was strange to me. My mouth did not want to shape the words.”
Now THIS is interesting, isn't it?
She is not Cheysuli, she says, and she's not afraid of them. It's just her and her cat here. She doesn't believe "this Ihlini mischief" will send her to the gods.
This lady knows a lot of shit, doesn't she?
They ask why she says the plague is Ihlini:
“Born of Strahan, aye.” Again she nodded. Her eyes were closed. She rocked. “It has been coming a long, long time. I remember the days of Tynstar, in Solinde, when he first told Bellam that Homana was his for the taking. And so together they took it, once Shaine was slain in the Great Hall of Homana-Mujhar. Tynstar chased Carillon out of his homeland and into exile in foreign realms….” Her recital trailed off. Ian and I stared at her in silence, shocked to hear her repeat so much of our House’s history. “But he came home again, he did, and took Homana back, and then Tynstar stole his youth. Tynstar was strong, but so was Carillon. And in the end, Carillon prevailed.” She smiled briefly; it faded quickly enough. “But Tynstar sired a son on Carillon’s queen, and now that son is loosed upon the land. Like the plague of Asar-Suti.”
She said nothing more. In the silence of the tiny room Ian and I waited for her to finish. But she said nothing more.
This isn't really an explanation, or an answer to their question. It does however indicate that this lady knows a LOT of shit.
Which of course leads to a pretty fucking big revelation:
“Lady,” I said at last, “how is it you know so much of Tynstar? So much of Shaine?”
“Because I was alive when Shaine was Mujhar.” Her rheumy eyes creased in good-natured humor. “And Tynstar was my lord.”
So yeah, this lady is Ihlini. Niall leaps up with a hand on his dagger, before he realizes/remembers that this is a tiny old woman. And I mean, given "Sef", it's hard to blame him. Ihlini are tricky.
This one seems happy to talk though. Ian asks why she's in Homana. It's because she likes it. It's her home. She goes one step further, offering them a pink, multi-faced crystal: it's her lifestone. If they think she intends harm, they can crush it or throw it in the fire, "and the world will lack one more Ihlini witch."
Interesting! This adds some context to Strahan's fear when Finn held one of his stones. Obviously it couldn't have been his MAIN stone, but if there's some kind of connection, then it might still have caused a lot of pain.
Niall asks about the stone.
“We have no lir,” she told me. “We have a stone instead. It is a locus for our power.” Her eyes were on the stone. “I have so little, now; I am too old. And I renounced Asar-Suti.”
“Renounced him!” Ian stared at her. “And you were left alive?”
The old woman tilted her head a little. “Betimes I think I was not. But that is only because I am so old. I lost my youth when I broke faith with the Seker. It was the cost. And now, I wait for the day I will die.”
So I was saying in a previous chapter, that there might be a reason that the Ihlini can do more than the Cheysuli during a direct confrontation. My tentative theory is that it's because of Asar-Suti/the Seker, the god of the Underworld. The Seker seems to give the Ihlini who follow him a major jump to their powers. Including the lifespan, as we see from the lady's explanation:
I frowned a little. “How old, lady? How many years have you?”
Briefly, she counted on fragile fingers. And then she grinned her toothless grin. “Only two,” she said. “Two hundred. Not so old, when you think of how old Tynstar was. Or how old Strahan will be, if no one seeks him out and slays him.” She looked at us both. “You might,” she said. “Go to him, seek him out, end the Seker’s plague. It is the only way you will save your people. The only way the world will survive.”
She tells them that if they can take his lifestone, his power will be ended. If they can't, they should at least "destroy the white wolf."
This leads to some confusion for Niall, who thinks she means himself. Niall, earlier, you established that a white wolf caused the plague. Why would she mean you?! But anyway, she figures out from his reaction that he's the Prince of Homana, and insists he must go. Go home, then go to Valgaard, Strahan's fortress.
Ian asks, gently, what she wants and why they should believe her. She's surprised that the truth isn't enough. And then things get really interesting:
“Reason.” She whispered it to herself. “I am too old; I have forgotten what hatred lies between the Firstborn’s children—what prejudice there is—”
“Lady.” Ian’s tone was distinctly displeased; I recalled how he had reacted when Lillith had discussed our supposed kinship on the voyage to Atvia. “We are not blood-bound, lady. Not Ihlini and Cheysuli.”
“No?” She smiled, shrugged, rewrapped her faded shawl. “No, then. As you wish.”
I looked at Serri. Lir?
He remained conspicuously silent. Old the woman might be, and lacking most of her magic, but the link was affected by her nearness to us.
...maybe. Or maybe not. The Lir have ALWAYS been quiet on the matter of the Ihlini.
But there's something to consider here. The Ihlini appear to have fairly long lives. At least the ones who follow the Seker. This lady is two hundred. Lillith's about a hundred and perfectly hale. Tynstar was three hundred. There are fewer generations for information to be lost.
Maybe they do remember something the Cheysuli, who have normal lifespans (and have suffered at least one major purge) don't.
They thank her nonetheless, and she decides that she will give them proof:
“Reason to believe.” She pressed herself out of the chair. She was tiny, fragile, bowed down with the weight of her age. “Proof,” she murmured. “My gift to you—my gift to Homana—” And with amazing accuracy she threw the crystal into the fire.
“No!” I leaped for her, trying to catch her in my arms as the lifestone fell into the flames, but by the time I touched the woman she was only made of dust. Only dust in the shape of a woman, and then even that was banished.
Well, it seems that Ihlini are not, in fact, all chaotic evil after all. Chaotic DRAMATIC on the other hand...
And with the boys trying to process that, the chapter ends.
I feel old now.
Date: 2022-09-17 03:49 am (UTC)As for the Ihlini lady.... that was someone who was tired of the entire world's bullshit and wanted to go on her terms, I think. And what a way to go.
= Multi-Facets.
Re: I feel old now.
Date: 2022-09-17 05:25 am (UTC)The Ihlini lady is my new favorite. Go out with a bang and traumatize some snot-nosed kids at the same time.
Trivia!
Date: 2022-09-17 10:06 pm (UTC)And I'm a December '82 baby, so while I did miss out on some nifty '80s cartoons, growing up in the '90s wasn't terrible. Especially when the anime boom hit.
= Multi-Facets.
Re: Trivia!
Date: 2022-09-17 11:23 pm (UTC)I'm a February '83 kid myself, but luckily had access to a lot of reruns. :-D
Re: Trivia!
Date: 2022-09-17 11:57 pm (UTC)= Multi-Facets.
no subject
Date: 2023-04-17 02:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2023-04-17 06:47 pm (UTC)