Stalking Darkness - Chapter Five and Six

[kalinara]

So last time, Seregil continued to play wizard among the Dravnians and succeeded in bringing back the MacGuffin. So what's Alec been up to during that time?



Indeed, we start the chapter with Alec. He's climbing a ladder. However, it's not for thieving purposes, judging by the way manservant Runcer is dithering about Alec's "display of labor". Seregil probably wouldn't approve, but Seregil isn't here right now.

This is inconvenient, because the festival of Sakor starts tonight. Alec's had to resume his public role as a Wheel Street nobleman, and he's not going to be able to avoid making an appearance.

Poor Alec isn't really used to the whole nobleman thing, and he's driving the servants crazy because he keeps trying to fetch his own water and saddle his own horse.

So we get some cultural notes here:

Grasping the wooden brace set into the wall, Alec slid the gong’s leather hanging straps over it. They held and it swung gently in the morning breeze, a rectangular battle shield displaying the elaborate sunburst design of Sakor.

Runcer handed up a swath of black cloth and Alec draped it carefully over the shield face.

Similar gongs were being hung all across the city. Mourning Night, the longest of the year, began with solemn ceremonies at the Temple of Sakor. The symbolic passing of the old god would be enacted, and every fire in the city extinguished except for a single firepot guarded by the Queen and her family at the temple. At the first hint of dawn the following morning, the gongs would be uncovered and sounded to welcome the resurrected god as runners carried the new year’s fire to every hearth.

Similar versions of the ceremony would be carried out all over Skala.

Interesting!

As Alec descends the ladder, he catches sight of Seregil's horse. Oh, okay. Well, I guess Alec probably didn't have too much excitement with his mentor gone. That makes some sense. He's the calm, quiet, competent type after all.

Heh:

Seregil reined Cynril to a walk and looked Alec over with a disapproving frown as he continued up the street. “Out in your shirtsleeves like a common laborer? What will the neighbors say?”

“I did remark upon it, my lord,” Runcer commented blandly as they came up.

“I guess they’ll say I’m more likely to do a lick of honest work than my fop of a guardian,” Alec said with a laugh, too relieved to see Seregil safely home to care what anyone thought.

Sorry, Seregil, when the master's away, the apprentice will...work. Hm. The maxim doesn't quite work right, does it.

Anyway, Seregil is, of course, dressed to the nines.

Wherever Seregil had been, he’d costumed himself carefully for the role of returning lord. His mud-spattered boots and gauntlets were of the finest chestnut-brown leather, his riding mantle lined with dark fur. Beneath it he wore a velvet surcoat, and tall pheasant feathers bobbed at a jaunty angle from the jeweled cockade of his cap.

Seregil notes that they have to forgive Alec's provincial ways - northern squire's sons are badly raised after all, far too much honest labor in their youths.

Runcer reports to Seregil: preparations seem in place, Nysander and Magyana will be contributing to entertainment, the Cavishes will be coming too. Alec is a bit wistful, as Nysander and the Cavishes will be sitting together. He wishes he could sit with them, but Seregil notes that Kylith's group will be more informative. And Alec needs the practice playing noble. Poor kid.

And once they're in private:

“Runcer’s right, you know,” he went on, tossing his cloak over a clothes chest and going to the fire. “It’s not good for you to be seen out there in your shirtsleeves. When you’re playing a role—“

Alec sighed. “You play it to the bone, I know, but—“

“No excuses. It’s part of the game.” Seregil leveled a gloved forefinger at him. “You know as well as I do that it doesn’t matter at the Cockerel or half the time around here, but on a real job something like that could get you killed! When you play Sir Alec, you must be Sir Alec. Either live it from the heart, or stand outside yourself like a puppet master and direct every movement. You’ve seen me do it often enough.”

You and Alec are very different personalities, Seregil. But it's rather nice to see Alec struggle with this. He generally picks up the skills very easily, maybe too easily. But he's not great with playing certain roles.

This is cute:

Seregil let out an impatient snort. “Horseshit. That’s what you said about swordplay, and look how you’ve come along. Besides, you’re a natural actor when the role doesn’t go against your stiff-necked, Dalnan yeoman’s pride. Relax! Flow with the moment.”

Seregil suddenly grabbed him by the arm and whirled him into an eccentric jig around the room. Alec hadn’t even heard him approach. But he recovered swiftly and took the lead.

“But Sir Alec is a stiff-necked Dalnan yeoman,” he said, laughing as he clomped through the steps of a country dance Beka and Elsbet had taught him.

Seregil cheerfully corrects him that Alec's stiff-necked Dalnan GENTRY, and should be picking up some of Lord Seregil's airs. As they banter, Alec notices Seregil's bandages and asks about them. Seregil deflects, pointing out the scab on Alec's hands from his wall adventure. Alec notices the evasion, but lets it go. He tells Seregil about the chase afterward.

Interestingly, Alec's account is described as "well-rehearsed and somewhat embellished", but we're not told HOW he embellishes it. That's annoying. It'd work for a character like Seregil, who tends toward roguish deception at the best of times. Alec is inherently honest though. If he's fudging the truth, we should know exactly how. OOC is serious business, to quote my beloved nemesis, TV Tropes.

Seregil compliments him for the idea of hiding with the guard, and segues into the gift that the Queen and Princess Klia sent. It turns out to be a brooch of silver leaves around a blue stone. That makes Alec smile, after all, he'd introduced himself as Aren Silverleaf when they'd met. (The first time I read this book, I remember getting mixed up and I thought Alec had outright stolen one of Seregil's identities. It wasn't until reread that I realized he'd combined the names instead: Aren Windover and Rolan Silverleaf. That makes much more sense.)

Seregil notes that it's a good stone: he could get a fine horse for that, if he ever needs to. And this is a little revealing. For all of Seregil's airs and emphasis on social graces, the fact that his mind immediately goes to how to sell a fancy and important gift from royalty says something interesting. Deep down, Aurenfaie exile Seregil has never lost the "escape and survive" instinct.

We don't see if Alec reacts to that, because they get a loud new arrival: Ilia Cavish. She's been sent ahead as "vanguard" (her mother is sick from pregnancy, so she's in a cart, while Micum and Elsbet are riding slow with her. They're just down the street) She's very exuberant and excited because, at six, she's finally old enough to attend the party!

The Cavishes arrive shortly after: Kari is wan but welcoming, while her servant quotes the platitude of "the sicker the mother, the stronger the son". Apparently Kari hears that a lot and notes wryly that even if this baby is a girl, she'll probably be born with a sword in her hand.

Fifteen-year-old Elsbet's going to be studying at the temple soon. She also seems to have developed a crush on newly-heroic Alec. Alec is, of course, completely befuddled, but the chapter ends with Kari promising to see what she can do about his hair.

-

Chapter Six starts us at the party. Seregil and Alec have arrived at Lady Kylith's box. Kylith greets Seregil warmly. She's nearly fifty now, Seregil notes, but still retains her beauty and wit. Alec acquits himself well, too:

All of these were in full force as she turned to Alec, still hanging shyly back. “And you and I meet again under far more pleasant circumstances, Sir Alec. I trust no one will be arresting Lord Seregil tonight?”

Alec executed a perfect bow. “I believe he’s rescheduled all arrests until tomorrow, my lady.”

So much has happened since then that it's easy to forget that it's still pretty juicy gossip. But Kylith has pretty much defused any tension by making light of it.

They're introduced to others in the box. Some courtiers, mostly. A Lord Admiral who's going to oversee the outfitting of the Queen's privateer fleet (Seregil will be sitting next to him), and a newcomer: a lady infantry captain rumored to be Kylith's new paramour.

It's worth noting that Kylith and Seregil were lovers once, too. Everyone's bisexual in this universe, I note with approval.

So Alec gets left to Kylith's tutelage, while Seregil gets to listen to the gossip. His persona is carefully cultivated, we're told. He's distantly related to the royal family, so he gets access to the most fashionable salons, but his foreign birth and general dilettante ways mean that he isn't involved with most of the more complex intrigues (recent arrest aside). He's a safe audience and thus gets to hear much.

This time, the gossip is about war. Princess Phoria will likely benefit, at least some, because as a warrior princess sort, she'll earn a lot of goodwill. Plenimar is, however, more of a naval power, so they'll have to make preparations for defense. Hence the privateer fleet.

We switch over to Alec, who has finally escaped lady Kylith's regard and is thus getting to observe the ceremony. It sounds pretty cool:

Before him, the black Temple of Sakor stood massive and stark against a riotous sunset. Broad bars of light spilled out between the square pillars of the portico, silhouetting the gongs that hung between them.

Inside stood an altar of polished black stone. A great fire burned on it, illuminating the huge golden shield that hung suspended just behind. This, Seregil had explained earlier, was called the Aegis of Sakor. It was twenty feet high and its sunburst device was set with hundreds of smooth-polished rubies that seemed to pulse with life in the flickering firelight.

An honor guard was massed in formation on the broad stairs in front of the temple; somewhere in those faceless ranks Beka Cavish was standing watch with her regiment. He envied her just a little. The soldier’s life seemed an uncomplicated one to him; no pretending, no disguise—just honor, duty, and the bravery to stand by your comrades in battle.

Fortunately, as a provincial noble, Alec's allowed and even expected to gawk a bit. Part of the whole deal is that everyone extinguishes all their fires for the night.

“The soldier’s vigil is very weary.” Kylith cast a regretful glance in Julena’s direction and Alec guessed the captain would be going back on duty soon. “But for the rest of us, it’s a merry time. Moonlit parties, blind games, and chases. It’s a fine night for lovers, as well. They say half the people born in Rhiminee can count back from their birth to this night.”

Her perfume drifted over him as she leaned closer. “And who will be keeping you warm in the darkness, hm?”

A sudden fanfare from the temple spared him the necessity of a reply.

He's still pretty young, Kylith!

But the proceeding is underway:

A hush fell over the crowd as a long procession of priests filed out from the interior of the temple. Chanting and playing reed flutes, sistrums, deep-throated horns, and timbrels, they formed themselves into two ranks flanking the Aegis. The skirling music had an ancient, mournful sound.

“The Song of Passing, sung in the original Konic tongue,” Seregil whispered. “Most of this ceremony dates back at least a thousand years.”

At the end of the chant, an ornately robed figure was carried forward on a litter, face covered by a golden sun mask, an unsheathed broadsword lying across his knees.

“That’s the oldest of the Sakor priests, dressed to represent the dying god,” Seregil went on. “He brings the great Sword of Gerilain.”

Alec asks if the sword was really the first queen's. Yes, actually, the Queen gets reinvested with it every year. The ceremony continues on, with Seregil providing the important information: the priest begs Sakor not to abandon them. Sakor appoints the Queen as a guardian, and bestows gifts.

The other gods take part, or at least people play the roles. The drysian, Valerius, is playing Dalna. (Gender doesn't seem to matter, as both Astellus and Ilior are being played by women here.) Then the Queen, her husband (much younger, we're told. It's good to be the queen,) and her sons and daughters enter. Klia's in there, and it feels strange to Alec. Before now, he'd only really ever interacted with her on common footing: a cheerful, mud-splattered soldier who treated him like a comrade. This is much more official.

There's a cute part where Alec sings along with the crowd during the Dalnan part of the ritual. Apparently it gets glances from Kylith's other guests. I'm guessing there probably aren't that many Dalnans among Skalan nobility.

The old prophecy from the Afran Oracle is quoted: "So long as a daughter of Thelatimos's line defends and rules, Skala shall never be subjugated."

As part of the ritual, Idrilain has to kill a black bull, which is then used for divination. The bull is reluctant, which is a bit of a poor omen. The divination part is staged, though, which shocks Alec. It's not completely dishonest, per Seregil, basically they collect divinations from major temples throughout Skala for months...it is fair to note that they tend to be generally in support of current policy.

This does seem pretty dramatic:

But before he could speak, a sudden wind gusted through the square, billowing robes and snatching at cloaks and scouring dust and dead leaves up in little whirlwinds. Banners whipped loose from the fronts of boxes. Shield gongs swung on their long chains, clashing ominously against the pillars of the temple.

Startled from their evening roosts, gulls and doves burst into the air again in a flurry of wings, only to be met by scores of ravens. Swooping out of the surrounding gloom as mysteriously as the wind that bore them, the black birds attacked in a frenzy, stabbing with thick beaks, tearing with taloned feet.

The spectators below watched helplessly as black wings beat against white or brown; upturned faces were spattered with blood and sticky scraps of feathers. Then startled cries rang out as broken bodies plummeted down around them.

I feel like this was not part of the staged spectacle.

The Queen and her children all draw swords and drive the ravens away from the sacrificial bull. We see Valerius and the Illioran priestess use magic to defend against hte birds as well. Soldiers are assisting the Queen and trying to keep order.

Oh and this happens:

A thick cloud of ravens circled the square now, diving and slashing like hawks. Others flocked boldly on railings and temple pediments. One large bird flapped down to perch on the edge of Kylith’s box and seemed to regard Alec thoughtfully with one black, unblinking eye.

Seregil raised his hand in a warding sign and Alec saw his lips move, although it was impossible to make out the words over the chaos around them. The raven uttered a mocking croak and flapped away.

Interesting.

Finally, we get to the prophecy:

“Hear me, my people!” cried Idrilain. “Sakor speaks, sounding a call on the Aegis itself. Attend to the prophecy!”

The multitude stood motionless as Old Sakor was helped forward again, swaying visibly as he raised a trembling hand.

“Hear, O people of Skala, the word of Sakor,” he called in his reedy old man’s voice. “Make strong your walls, and let every sword be whetted. Guard well the harvest and build strong ships. Look to the east, O people of Skala. From thence comes thine enemy—” He paused, and the trembling seemed to worsen. “From thence—“

He sagged heavily against Valerius for a moment, then straightened and took a step forward unaided. In a voice of star fling clarity, he cried out, “Prepare you in the light, and in the shadow. From thence comes the Eater of Death!”

Yeah, this could be bad.

Alec notices that Seregil looks like he's freaking out a bit, but Seregil motions him off discreetly.

Up in Kylith's box, the nobles are uneasily pretending to think that this was just a bit of an overdone performance. They start heading for Seregil's party, though Seregil and Alec stay behind for a bit.

“What’s the “Eater of Death”?” asked Alec uneasily. “It sounded like a threat, or a warning.”

“I’m sure it was,” Seregil muttered, gazing down into the square. It was full dark now, and the moon and stars shed pale brilliance over the city, casting the world into sharp contrasts of silvery light and inky shadow. Lightwands bobbed here and there in the hands of those wealthy enough to afford them, and faint laughter and cries of “Praise the Flame!” echoed up to them as people jostled each other in the darkness.

Something in his friend’s face made Alec still more uneasy. “Any idea what the priest meant by it?” he asked.

Seregil pulled his hood up against the night’s chill as he rose to go. Alec couldn’t see his face as he replied, “I can’t say that I do.”

With this little bit of ominous secret-keeping, the chapter ends.