Stalking Darkness - Chapter Two and Three
Jul. 1st, 2023 09:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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i_read_whatSo last time, Seregil showed his academic smarts and got given an assignment. Nysander is still kind of a dick.
So we start the chapter with Alec, who wakes up to the sound of "sleet lashing across the roof." I actually hadn't thought sleet made a sound, but google confirms that it does. I think I was confusing it with some other weather phenomenon. Or assuming all frozen precipitation that made noise was hail.
Anyway, Alec's snuggling with a kitty, which makes me jealous (things are improving by leaps and bounds, but my cat is not at the snuggling stage yet). He's noticing that Seregil's pack is now outside the door.
Seregil is cheery enough, tossing him some neat, complicated locks to practice on. Alec notes that Seregil hasn't told him to start packing yet. He can add two and two and figures out that Seregil's going off on his own.
Of course, Seregil can't really go into details. Alec at first asks if it's because of last night's screw-up. Seregil reassures him it's not, so Alec connects that it's something for Nysander. Seregil asks him for his word not to track him when he goes.
Alec's unhappy about it, but doesn't object. In the mean time, Seregil wants him to do some pre-discussed job and anything else that comes in that looks like a one-man job. That seems like a fair bit of trust, actually. More worrying to Alec though is the idea that Seregil may not be back in time for a party that he's supposed to be holding at Wheel Street.
Well, Alec might end up having to hold the party. Fortunately, manservant Runcer sees to the real details. But Alec might need play host. Fortunately, Micum and family will be there, as will Lady Kylith - a friend they'd met last book, who can help Alec with etiquette. The cover story for Lord Seregil is that he's away "recovering" from his arrest.
I mean, fair. It's funny to think of how quickly all those events passed, last book.
Alec asks if Seregil's job will be dangerous, and Seregil actually does him the courtesy of admitting that he won't know until he gets in the middle of it.
So they have breakfast with the rest of the Cockerel staff: Thryis, Cilia, and baby Luthas. We get some backstory that might or might not have come up in Luck in the Shadows. Basically Cilia wanted to avoid being conscripted into the military, and thus decided to get pregnant. Apparently, she'd offered Seregil the opportunity to be the father. Alec notes that while Seregil's general interest in women "seemed marginal at best", he thinks Seregil turned her down more so he wouldn't anger her military veteran grandmother.
Apparently, Cilia never did end up revealing the father's identity.
Grandmother Thryis notes Alec's long face. She's been around long enough to clock things pretty quickly, so she offers him some reassurance and a promise to teach Alec some new archery tricks.
So Seregil heads off, but not before leaving a will with Thyris. This is apparently new behavior, and a little concerning. He asks her not to tell Alec about it, then heads to Oreska House.
--
So, since that chapter is really really quick, I figured we'd move on to the next.
--
We're back with Nysander and Seregil. Apparently it took until mid-afternoon to prepare for the translocation spell. He also provides Seregil with some cool willow rods that, when broken, will create gifts for his hosts. Except one specific red one that contains the spell to return.
He's also given some kind of enchanted box, for the crown-or-whatever-it-is. Seregil wonders what happens if the item is too big for the box. He's told to do his best and return at once. He's also given some nifty ward-weakening stuff.
So then, we get a teleportation.
I've realized we haven't had an excerpt yet, so here's one:
The whirling blast of vertigo was worse than he’d feared. For most people, a translocation was as simple as stepping from one room to another. To Seregil, however, it was like being sucked down in some vile black whirlpool.
It seemed to go on endlessly this time, buffeting him with darkness. Then, just as suddenly, he tumbled out into frigid brightness and sank up to his hips in drifted snow.
Stuck fast, he bent forward and spewed out his scant breakfast. When the spasms were over, he struggled free and crawled away from the steaming mess.
Collapsing on his back, one arm over his eyes, he lay very still as the world spun sickeningly. The wind sighed over him, blowing fine ice crystals across his lips. Rolling onto his belly, he retched again, then cleaned his mouth with a handful of snow.
Teleportation sounds pretty hellish even if you didn't have magic dyslexia related motion sickness.
So Seregil makes his way to a village. He's welcomed: apparently Dravanian hospitality is "legendary". We get a description of these folk:
The Dravnians were a short, broad-set people with black, almond-shaped eyes and coarse, dark hair that they wore slicked back with liberal applications of oil. A few among them, however, had lighter hair or finer features that spoke of mixed blood—probably Aurenfaie, since few others found their way to these remote valleys.
So if Aurenfaie blood is what makes the Oreskan wizards magic, do these guys have wizards too?
I have to admit, I do find the whole "pretend to be magic to fool these clearly non-white people" set up more than a little problematic.
So anyway, we get some neat cultural descriptions that I like:
The upper level of the council house, used as a communal storehouse, was floored over except for the large central smoke hole. Rough stone steps led down to the lower chamber, where a huge fire of dried dung chips had already been kindled in a fire pit surrounded by thick carpets and bolsters. Women bustled excitedly around a cooking fire across the room, preparing the ritual meal.
Seated at the central fire with Retak and the other principal men of the village, Seregil closed his eyes for a moment as his belly did a slow, uneasy roll. The smell of slaughtered animals, mingled with the more immediate aromas of unwashed bodies and greased hair, was overpowering after the clear mountain wind.
Every available inch seemed to have been filled by curious villagers. People talked excitedly on all sides, leaning across their neighbors to shout to someone else or calling down from above for details. Children ringed the smoke hole overhead, chattering like swallows. The women labored with noisy cheer, wielding cleavers and clattering skewers and bowls.
So Seregil's here as an Aurenfaie traveler, wearing a long white tunic, close-fitting trousers, and a head scarf. He also has a dagger and sword, but he lays them aside as a sign of good faith. We're told that guests are supposed to pay for hospitality with news of the outside world. Seregil brings them some Aurenfaie news that's about thirty years out of date, but new for them. Then there's traditional storytelling. The Dravanian have no writing themselves (hence why it had been written phonetically in another language), but each family has a special stock of stories that only they may relate. There are other tales that are "general property." That's really neat!
Seregil is able to join in with tales of his own, and being a bard/spy, he's good enough to get hailed as a "biruk" or "one who remembers many stories." The praise and the food helps settle his queasiness, and he starts having a good time.
So he uses the wands, conjuring things like bushels of fruit, coins (the Dravanians don't use them for currency, but they like the glint of the metal and the fine designs), silk linen, needles, rope and healing herbs.
Seregil's alias, by the way, is Meringil, sun of Solun and Nycanthi. The Dravanians are happy to welcome him as an honorary member of the clan, and offer their assistance.
“I’ve come seeking a place of magic spoken of in certain legends. Do you know of such a place?”
The reaction was instantaneous. The elders exchanged hesitant looks. A woman dropped a spit with a clatter. Overhead the children left off exclaiming over their new treasures and leaned farther over the hole to listen.
Retak motioned with his staff and an ancient little man wearing a coat decorated with sheep’s teeth shuffled forward. In the firelight he looked like an ancient tortoise, with a tortoise’s leathery, slow-blinking gaze. Kneeling slowly before Seregil, he held up a bone rattle in one tremulous hand and shook it in a wide circle before speaking.
“I am Timan, son of Rogher and Borune,” he said at last. “And I tell you that there is such a place in this valley. It has been the duty of my clan to watch over it since the time of the spirit’s anger. It is a spirit home, deep in the rock beneath the ice. How it came there no man knows. Sometimes the door is there and sometimes it is not there, according to the will of the spirit.”
Seems ominous. Timan explains how the spirit used to be: there were chambers for men to dream in, they received visions and instructions. But then when the spirt became angry, the men came out maddened, doing deeds of terrible evil, or disappearing. Since it was a member of Timan's clan that went mad first, they've got the burden to guard the home.
Seregil offers to talk with the spirit and try to find out why it's angry, maybe even make peace.
Timan says that he's tried many times to try to make peace, but the spirit was silent or drove him out. He asks if Seregil can really do what he's offering. Seregil promises to try, and gets an invite to the chief's house for his trouble. And well, quite an offer:
“The guest sleeps in my house this night,” Retak announced proudly, ending the feast. “The mountain nights are harsh for your kind, Meringil, but I have many healthy daughters to keep you warm,”
Overhead the children shouted with delight as the older girls craned for a better look at Seregil.
Seregil blinked, “What?”
Oh dear. Apparently these guys really enjoy genetic diversity, and girls who get knocked up by visitors get a high status. The chief's own grandfather was an Aurenfaie, and they would absolutely like Seregil to stay in a different home each night. Many homes. Oh dear.
--
We switch to Alec. He's off doing his mission and well, he's encountering trouble. There's a pretty big dog closing in on him. Fortunately, he remembers the thief's charm Seregil showed him, and he's able to calm it down. He realizes, however, that he never asked how long the charm lasts. He realizes that he'd better hurry.
The top of the wall is studded with glass and crockery. He manages to cut his hand, ow. But he makes it over and heads for home. (It sounds like this is the end of the mission, rather than the beginning.) The Wheel Street house is closer, and his hand is hurt pretty bad, so he stops there instead. Fortunately, the hand isn't damaged, but Alec notes that it's the one that has the scar from Mardus's amulet. Clearly an unlucky hand.
Alec's tempted to stay, but realizes that it'd be a bad idea. Their noble identities aren't meant to be back yet, so he can't risk any sign of early occupation. He cleans up after himself and heads out.
It's not long before he realizes that someone is following him. More than one person: he can hear the metal nails in their shoes. Alec knows better than to go straight home now, he can't risk leading his pursuers there. He tries a trick and a feint, but he's followed. He ends up giving up on stealth and running toward the Palace. Fortunately, his dash gets the attention of the guards. He cries for help, claiming he's chased by footpads. The guards don't see anyone (and indeed, neither does Alec now), but Alec is able to win them over, claiming he was coming back late from the Street of Lights.
Boys will be boys, after all, and apparently it's not uncommon for "nighthawks" to lurk for late-comers. They offer to let him stick around until first light, Alec gets comfortable, and the chapter ends.
So we start the chapter with Alec, who wakes up to the sound of "sleet lashing across the roof." I actually hadn't thought sleet made a sound, but google confirms that it does. I think I was confusing it with some other weather phenomenon. Or assuming all frozen precipitation that made noise was hail.
Anyway, Alec's snuggling with a kitty, which makes me jealous (things are improving by leaps and bounds, but my cat is not at the snuggling stage yet). He's noticing that Seregil's pack is now outside the door.
Seregil is cheery enough, tossing him some neat, complicated locks to practice on. Alec notes that Seregil hasn't told him to start packing yet. He can add two and two and figures out that Seregil's going off on his own.
Of course, Seregil can't really go into details. Alec at first asks if it's because of last night's screw-up. Seregil reassures him it's not, so Alec connects that it's something for Nysander. Seregil asks him for his word not to track him when he goes.
Alec's unhappy about it, but doesn't object. In the mean time, Seregil wants him to do some pre-discussed job and anything else that comes in that looks like a one-man job. That seems like a fair bit of trust, actually. More worrying to Alec though is the idea that Seregil may not be back in time for a party that he's supposed to be holding at Wheel Street.
Well, Alec might end up having to hold the party. Fortunately, manservant Runcer sees to the real details. But Alec might need play host. Fortunately, Micum and family will be there, as will Lady Kylith - a friend they'd met last book, who can help Alec with etiquette. The cover story for Lord Seregil is that he's away "recovering" from his arrest.
I mean, fair. It's funny to think of how quickly all those events passed, last book.
Alec asks if Seregil's job will be dangerous, and Seregil actually does him the courtesy of admitting that he won't know until he gets in the middle of it.
So they have breakfast with the rest of the Cockerel staff: Thryis, Cilia, and baby Luthas. We get some backstory that might or might not have come up in Luck in the Shadows. Basically Cilia wanted to avoid being conscripted into the military, and thus decided to get pregnant. Apparently, she'd offered Seregil the opportunity to be the father. Alec notes that while Seregil's general interest in women "seemed marginal at best", he thinks Seregil turned her down more so he wouldn't anger her military veteran grandmother.
Apparently, Cilia never did end up revealing the father's identity.
Grandmother Thryis notes Alec's long face. She's been around long enough to clock things pretty quickly, so she offers him some reassurance and a promise to teach Alec some new archery tricks.
So Seregil heads off, but not before leaving a will with Thyris. This is apparently new behavior, and a little concerning. He asks her not to tell Alec about it, then heads to Oreska House.
--
So, since that chapter is really really quick, I figured we'd move on to the next.
--
We're back with Nysander and Seregil. Apparently it took until mid-afternoon to prepare for the translocation spell. He also provides Seregil with some cool willow rods that, when broken, will create gifts for his hosts. Except one specific red one that contains the spell to return.
He's also given some kind of enchanted box, for the crown-or-whatever-it-is. Seregil wonders what happens if the item is too big for the box. He's told to do his best and return at once. He's also given some nifty ward-weakening stuff.
So then, we get a teleportation.
I've realized we haven't had an excerpt yet, so here's one:
The whirling blast of vertigo was worse than he’d feared. For most people, a translocation was as simple as stepping from one room to another. To Seregil, however, it was like being sucked down in some vile black whirlpool.
It seemed to go on endlessly this time, buffeting him with darkness. Then, just as suddenly, he tumbled out into frigid brightness and sank up to his hips in drifted snow.
Stuck fast, he bent forward and spewed out his scant breakfast. When the spasms were over, he struggled free and crawled away from the steaming mess.
Collapsing on his back, one arm over his eyes, he lay very still as the world spun sickeningly. The wind sighed over him, blowing fine ice crystals across his lips. Rolling onto his belly, he retched again, then cleaned his mouth with a handful of snow.
Teleportation sounds pretty hellish even if you didn't have magic dyslexia related motion sickness.
So Seregil makes his way to a village. He's welcomed: apparently Dravanian hospitality is "legendary". We get a description of these folk:
The Dravnians were a short, broad-set people with black, almond-shaped eyes and coarse, dark hair that they wore slicked back with liberal applications of oil. A few among them, however, had lighter hair or finer features that spoke of mixed blood—probably Aurenfaie, since few others found their way to these remote valleys.
So if Aurenfaie blood is what makes the Oreskan wizards magic, do these guys have wizards too?
I have to admit, I do find the whole "pretend to be magic to fool these clearly non-white people" set up more than a little problematic.
So anyway, we get some neat cultural descriptions that I like:
The upper level of the council house, used as a communal storehouse, was floored over except for the large central smoke hole. Rough stone steps led down to the lower chamber, where a huge fire of dried dung chips had already been kindled in a fire pit surrounded by thick carpets and bolsters. Women bustled excitedly around a cooking fire across the room, preparing the ritual meal.
Seated at the central fire with Retak and the other principal men of the village, Seregil closed his eyes for a moment as his belly did a slow, uneasy roll. The smell of slaughtered animals, mingled with the more immediate aromas of unwashed bodies and greased hair, was overpowering after the clear mountain wind.
Every available inch seemed to have been filled by curious villagers. People talked excitedly on all sides, leaning across their neighbors to shout to someone else or calling down from above for details. Children ringed the smoke hole overhead, chattering like swallows. The women labored with noisy cheer, wielding cleavers and clattering skewers and bowls.
So Seregil's here as an Aurenfaie traveler, wearing a long white tunic, close-fitting trousers, and a head scarf. He also has a dagger and sword, but he lays them aside as a sign of good faith. We're told that guests are supposed to pay for hospitality with news of the outside world. Seregil brings them some Aurenfaie news that's about thirty years out of date, but new for them. Then there's traditional storytelling. The Dravanian have no writing themselves (hence why it had been written phonetically in another language), but each family has a special stock of stories that only they may relate. There are other tales that are "general property." That's really neat!
Seregil is able to join in with tales of his own, and being a bard/spy, he's good enough to get hailed as a "biruk" or "one who remembers many stories." The praise and the food helps settle his queasiness, and he starts having a good time.
So he uses the wands, conjuring things like bushels of fruit, coins (the Dravanians don't use them for currency, but they like the glint of the metal and the fine designs), silk linen, needles, rope and healing herbs.
Seregil's alias, by the way, is Meringil, sun of Solun and Nycanthi. The Dravanians are happy to welcome him as an honorary member of the clan, and offer their assistance.
“I’ve come seeking a place of magic spoken of in certain legends. Do you know of such a place?”
The reaction was instantaneous. The elders exchanged hesitant looks. A woman dropped a spit with a clatter. Overhead the children left off exclaiming over their new treasures and leaned farther over the hole to listen.
Retak motioned with his staff and an ancient little man wearing a coat decorated with sheep’s teeth shuffled forward. In the firelight he looked like an ancient tortoise, with a tortoise’s leathery, slow-blinking gaze. Kneeling slowly before Seregil, he held up a bone rattle in one tremulous hand and shook it in a wide circle before speaking.
“I am Timan, son of Rogher and Borune,” he said at last. “And I tell you that there is such a place in this valley. It has been the duty of my clan to watch over it since the time of the spirit’s anger. It is a spirit home, deep in the rock beneath the ice. How it came there no man knows. Sometimes the door is there and sometimes it is not there, according to the will of the spirit.”
Seems ominous. Timan explains how the spirit used to be: there were chambers for men to dream in, they received visions and instructions. But then when the spirt became angry, the men came out maddened, doing deeds of terrible evil, or disappearing. Since it was a member of Timan's clan that went mad first, they've got the burden to guard the home.
Seregil offers to talk with the spirit and try to find out why it's angry, maybe even make peace.
Timan says that he's tried many times to try to make peace, but the spirit was silent or drove him out. He asks if Seregil can really do what he's offering. Seregil promises to try, and gets an invite to the chief's house for his trouble. And well, quite an offer:
“The guest sleeps in my house this night,” Retak announced proudly, ending the feast. “The mountain nights are harsh for your kind, Meringil, but I have many healthy daughters to keep you warm,”
Overhead the children shouted with delight as the older girls craned for a better look at Seregil.
Seregil blinked, “What?”
Oh dear. Apparently these guys really enjoy genetic diversity, and girls who get knocked up by visitors get a high status. The chief's own grandfather was an Aurenfaie, and they would absolutely like Seregil to stay in a different home each night. Many homes. Oh dear.
--
We switch to Alec. He's off doing his mission and well, he's encountering trouble. There's a pretty big dog closing in on him. Fortunately, he remembers the thief's charm Seregil showed him, and he's able to calm it down. He realizes, however, that he never asked how long the charm lasts. He realizes that he'd better hurry.
The top of the wall is studded with glass and crockery. He manages to cut his hand, ow. But he makes it over and heads for home. (It sounds like this is the end of the mission, rather than the beginning.) The Wheel Street house is closer, and his hand is hurt pretty bad, so he stops there instead. Fortunately, the hand isn't damaged, but Alec notes that it's the one that has the scar from Mardus's amulet. Clearly an unlucky hand.
Alec's tempted to stay, but realizes that it'd be a bad idea. Their noble identities aren't meant to be back yet, so he can't risk any sign of early occupation. He cleans up after himself and heads out.
It's not long before he realizes that someone is following him. More than one person: he can hear the metal nails in their shoes. Alec knows better than to go straight home now, he can't risk leading his pursuers there. He tries a trick and a feint, but he's followed. He ends up giving up on stealth and running toward the Palace. Fortunately, his dash gets the attention of the guards. He cries for help, claiming he's chased by footpads. The guards don't see anyone (and indeed, neither does Alec now), but Alec is able to win them over, claiming he was coming back late from the Street of Lights.
Boys will be boys, after all, and apparently it's not uncommon for "nighthawks" to lurk for late-comers. They offer to let him stick around until first light, Alec gets comfortable, and the chapter ends.