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i_read_whatSo last time, Hart maybe kinda started getting a clue? At the very least, he's starting to express some kind of regret for the bullshit he's pulled over the first five chapters of this section?
We start this chapter in media res, as Tarron asks Hart to repeat what he just said. And indeed, it's worth repeating:
Helpfully, Hart gathered the parchments from the table and placed them on the stack in Tarron's arms. "I want you to teach me how to rule. It is what I came for,"
...well, it's about fucking time! If you'd come to this conclusion about five chapters ago, I might not dislike you so much!
Tarron corrects him: he came because he was sent. And I mean, yeah, but he was sent with the Third Seal, so it's pretty clear he was supposed to learn shit too. Hart doesn't argue though, he just says that he's done shirking his responsibilities. He wants to learn how to rule.
Tarron asks if he's seen Niall do none of it, and Hart's thoughts are...unsurprising.
Oh, aye, he had, in bits and pieces. But he had steadfastly refused to attend council sessions, petition hearings and other assorted requirements of kingship, perfectly willing to let Brennan do it all instead. He had a rudimentary knowledge of what constituted governing—the ruler had to sit in judgment on citizens who had disputes, settle treaties between other realms, levy taxes, tribute, and so on, plus innumerable other duties— but when it came down to it, he had not the faintest idea what was expected of him. Particularly in a foreign realm.
"Teach me,” he said only, hoping it was enough.
The problem with Hart's section, ultimately, isn't that Hart himself is an unlikeable wastrel. Though he is, in my opinion. It's that it also weakens Niall in the process. Why on EARTH did Niall allow this to happen? Why didn't he FORCE these kids to sit in on lessons? TIE THEM TO THE FUCKING CHAIR if you have to!
Hart's gambling addiction is one thing. That's hard to understand and hard to deal with. I admit that. But the rest - the absolute disinterest in anything resembling responsibility, the lack of any kind of basic knowledge of his subject realm...those things are fucking fixable. Or should have been!
That said, this is enough. Tarron is skeptical, but willing to allow Hart to accompany him as he goes to attend a hearing about a boundary dispute between two Solindish lordlings. (A river changed course, exposing new land that they're fighting over.)
We do learn, again, that Solindish governance is kind of badly handled:
"Without the Third Seal, what can you do?" he asked.
Parchment crackled. "Delay," the regent said succinctly. "No real business can be conducted without it, but until I hear from the Mujhar I cannot let slip the news the Seal is lost. We must hope the Solindish do not grow restless over countless delays and obfuscation ... I think they will not understand why it is you lost it in a game."
Okay, look, not to excuse Hart. Hart is a fucking moron. We've covered that. But why the fuck is the governance so wrapped up in these seals? Especially when the series has shown us that travel between the countries takes a fucking long time. Evidence right fucking here: Hart's been in Solinde for weeks now, and Tarron still hasn't been able to send word to Niall.
Why are they even going through this pantomime? Niall is the king of Solinde through repeated conquest AND bloodline. Just change it.
Actually, maybe that's what Tarron has in mind, because he makes an interesting suggestion:
"It would certainly serve his own interests." Tarron nodded as guardsmen in Homanan livery swung open the heavy wooden doors of the audience chamber. "But perhaps this will serve yours, my lord; if you are the one to make the decision, it will let the Solindish know you are indeed planning to rule." He nodded greetings toward the men waiting in the chamber and made his way to a table on a dais.
TARRON can't act without the Seal, but Tarron is only a regent. Hart, as the Prince, might not need it after all?
Hart is taken aback: he's got no experience in such things. (Why, Niall, why???)
I kind of love Tarron's reaction though:
"I suggest you get it, my lord, as any man does: by listening, and by determining which party deserves the judgment rendered in his favor." Tarron put the stack of parchments on the table and stepped away, motioning Hart to accept the only chair. "And now, my lord, I leave you to it."
Hee.
But argh, we actually don't get to see Hart's first arbitration. Instead we skip to afterward. Come ON, Roberson. Hart actually learning to be king is what I'm HERE for! He's actually taking steps in the right direction! Let me see them!
But instead, we skip to after dark, where Hart is heading to the White Swan. Oh brother. He does however make the decision NOT to wager. He's just going to while away the hours in a hospitable (or inhospitable, the narrative corrects) tavern.
...well, it's a start?
The wine-girl flashes his Homanan signet at him. He offers to buy it back, but she's enjoying his suffering too much. Then Dar comes.
The Solindishman glittered with silver and sapphires at collar, cuffs, wrists, fingers and belt, ice against indigo velvet. The royal colors. Hart knew, and wondered if Dar had dressed for him in the spirit of the wager. But then he spoke, and Hart knew he had dressed for no man at all.
"I have been with Ilsa," he said calmly, sitting down at the table without bothering to wait for an invitation. "A most sumptuous meal, and served by the lady herself." A raised finger brought Oma with a cup and his favorite wine. "She told me an interesting tale."
...oh dear.
Dar thinks that Hart was trying to win Ilsa through frankness. Hart says that he thought to be frank with her for the sake of honesty and honor. He urges Dar to end the wager, it's unfair to Ilsa and Solinde.
Dar tells him to declare a forfeit and go home. Hart says he can't.
...so, just laugh it off and leave, Hart. Solinde wasn't yours to wager. Niall is sure as hell not going to hold to the terms given. Just laugh in Dar's face and go back to the palace. If Ilsa knows the bet is off, she's got no reason to marry Dar.
This exchange is interesting though:
Dar smiled. "What choice is there, shapechanger? She wants me to live—she told me so herself—so she will not choose you. She would prefer Solinde remain Solindish; again, so she will not choose you. She would prefer a man she knows as Consort, so she will not choose one of the other lords." He drank again, then leaned forward intently. "She will name my name, shapechanger. Be certain of it."
Hart smiled. "Then why are you so uncertain?" His smile widened as Dar's lids flickered. "No matter what she may have said to you tonight, you still are not sure. You still have doubts. You know there is a good chance she may choose me after all."
"Ilsa will do what is right for Solinde."
"She will do what is best for all concerned," Hart poured more ale into his cup. "It is how such decisions are made; one weighs all issues, and then one decides which best serves all involved." It was what he had done with the old lords and their river dispute, though he could offer nothing until the Seal was recovered.
Oh, never mind. I guess Hart needs the Seal too. But he seems to have gotten to Dar, because Dar immediately offers a game. And Hart...Hart says No.
"No?" Dar's sandy brows lifted. "You say no?"
"I say no." Hart drank ale. "The game begins to pall, Dar ... I will pass."
Dar slapped his belt-purse down on the table. Red gold chimed.
Hart smiled. "No."
Dar stripped his fingers and wrists of gem-studded silver.
Still Hart smiled. "No."
"What do you want?" the Solindishman asked. "The Seal is already wagered." He smiled suddenly. "The stallion. You want to win back the stallion Ilsa gave you."
Slowly Hart shook his head.
Dar's brown eyes narrowed. "Then what?"
"To watch you squirm," Hart said softly, "and now I have seen it without wagering even a silver penny." He pushed his stool back, scraping it against hardwood, and rang down a red coin on the table to pay for his ale.
"You will lose, Dar. Ilsa. Solinde. Your life. Because I have learned when to stop, and you have not even begun."
...okay, I will give Hart this. This is a pretty great moment.
All along, Dar's been playing Hart. All along, Hart's been letting him. But what happens if Hart refuses to play anymore?
Dar's got the Seal. Okay. What can he do with it? Let Hart make a new symbol. Niall will hold to what Hart promises as heir, as long as it's reasonable. Dar marries Ilsa...okay, maybe, MAYBE he can unite the Solindish lords to fight a war Solinde's lost two generations in a row. What does Dar really have here?
Hart leaves the tavern. And later, it's not clear how MUCH later, Hart receives an invitation from Lady Ilsa. Per the message, Ilsa has made a decision and wants him and Dar to know of it. Tarron is perplexed. Hart says he'll get his answer later.
Hart wonders if he dresses to celebrate a marriage or lose a realm. He thinks about his twin, who "would compliment him on his decision to take a cheysula, even if it was not his decision at all. Brennan would tell him he was finally growing up, maturing, becoming the man he was meant to be."
I don't think Brennan's really got the right to weigh in on anyone's marriage right about now. Also, he's kind of busy.
Rael's a bit smug though, agreeing that perhaps Hart is finally answering his tahlmorra.
Oh, hey, awesome. We FINALLY have a time frame! Hart's been gone from Homana for three months!
Yeesh, how long DOES the commute from Homana-Mujhar to Lestra take? Because it didn't seem like Hart was here that long. (It does however indicate then that's it's probably been two months since the end of Part Two.)
So Hart wonders what he'll tell Niall if he loses. Rael says: the truth, as no matter what the punishment, the loss of a country is worth it.
So Hart is led to a private receiving chamber. Dar is there. As are six men in Solindish livery. Ilsa, we're told, has gone to bed. She's "done her part of this night's work by summoning [Hart] here: the rest is left to [Dar]."
I asked what Dar could do exactly, if Hart refused to play. Well...looks like there's one other option:
Dar grinned and waved a casual forefinger. His men moved closer to Hart. "Which wager, shapechanger? The one between you and me—or the one I struck with Strahan?"
The Ihlini are Solindish, after all. Oh dear.
Dar is not, himself, Ihlini. But he likes power and Ilsa, and Strahan basically offered him both as a wager.
Hart's pretty confident though. Rael's outside, but close enough for the connection. He can shapechange, after all, right? The men close in, Hart starts to warn Dar, but Dar ignores him.
He orders Hart brought to the table, and one of the men to draw his sword. This does NOT look good...
"Hold him," Dar said. "Stretch out his left arm so the flat of his hand is on the wood. Quickly Hart tapped the power.
Smoothly, Dar drew his knife and stabbed it through the splayed hand, pinning it to the table. "There," he said. "Shapechange now, shapechanger."
Shapechange requires concentration. A knife through the hand is an understandable disruption of that concentration. And now...
Dar's eyes were dilated black. “Once you told me you would sooner wager your left hand than your lir, shapechanger. Well, you have lost the wager. And now you have lost the hand." He signaled the man with the sword.
"Hack it off. Now."
The blow was swift and very clean, slicing through flesh and bone to stop short in the ironwood. And pain-less, so stunned was Hart. Standing only by dint of the men who held him up, he stared at the arm that now ended at his wrist.
...well. Fuck.
Dar uses an iron to burn the stump and Hart collapses, ending the chapter.
--
Well. That happened.
So we get another interlude. Strahan and Lilith at the Gate of Asar-Suti. It...seems a little kinky.
One hand was outthrust, palm down, as if he intended to summon Asar-Suti himself. As perhaps he did; white flame licked up, touched, curled around the fingers, gloved his hand entirely, then deepened to lilac, to lavender, to deepest lurid purple. In its reflection, Strahan smiled his beautiful, deadly smile.
She saw a tendril of flame slip beneath the cuff of his doublet, beneath the white edge of his linen shirt. Where it went she could not follow, for it cloaked itself in his clothing; then, abruptly, it blossomed at his collar, caressed the flesh of his neck, touched a gentle fingertip to the sharp-edged line of his jaw.
Um. Are you getting felt up by your god, Strahan?
Damn, Ihlini get all the perks don't they? Cool powers. No substantial restrictions. Women can do shit too. Long lifespan. AND they get felt up by their horny god.
Lillith even describes it as "eerie intercourse", just in case you think I'm reading too much into it.
There is an interesting hierarchal element here though. Lillith is older and arguably more powerful than Strahan, but Strahan is the "god's own chosen". And yeah, it's still looking pretty kinky.
And then, abruptly, the webwork came undone. Tendrils withdrew, untying knots; untied, the knots fell into disarray. Within moments Strahan was merely Strahan, and the god was gone from him.
He shut his eyes and released a shuddering breath of deep satisfaction, as if he had lain with a woman. Head bowed, he made his obeisance to the god, and then he rose to face his sister across the glowing Gate.
Strahan informs Lillith that Dar has won his wager. Lillith asks if Strahan will pay his price? Gross. It's depressing to think Strahan has control over Ilsa like that. Strahan doesn't really answer directly:
Strahan smiled. "Dar is an overly ambitious man with overweening pride. One day he and his pride will stumble over those ambitions, and he will fall."
Lillith and I are both annoyed at the lack of answer, but she doesn't push. She asks how Strahan will break "this one."
Strahan shrugged. "I think it is already done, or very nearly so. The Cheysuli can be a hard, seemingly heartless race, even with their own; the clans require whole men as warriors, unmaimed—whole in flesh as well as spirit—in order to maintain the viability of the race.
Much like animals, they cull the pack of the weakest in order to protect the rest." Again he shrugged. "Perhaps they have the right of it; I have no use for the weak."
We've danced around the topic of Cheysuli and disability. From back in Song of Homana, when Finn was in danger of losing his leg. Niall skirted it with his maiming: you can still fight with one eye, as he proves. One hand though...
Especially for a bird shifter. Can Hart even fly now? Does he have both wings?
Lillith asks how he'll mend him.
Strahan laughed. "By offering him a reason to live again. Service to me can make him whole, though not in the way he might wish. But by then it will not matter—he will be too firmly bound."
So. We're two brothers down. One to go. Lillith is heading to Atvia.
The Interlude, and Hart's segment of the story, ends.
I do rather like how both brothers' capture comes out of their own character flaws. Brennan is both arrogant and naive. He falls into the trap of trying to play savior, and then lets his wounded pride blind him to Rhiannon's plans. And Hart...well, every decision Hart made basically set this avalanche in motion. In his case, he actually did seem to be coming to his senses in the end. But it was already too late.
Will Corin fare better? We'll find out!
We start this chapter in media res, as Tarron asks Hart to repeat what he just said. And indeed, it's worth repeating:
Helpfully, Hart gathered the parchments from the table and placed them on the stack in Tarron's arms. "I want you to teach me how to rule. It is what I came for,"
...well, it's about fucking time! If you'd come to this conclusion about five chapters ago, I might not dislike you so much!
Tarron corrects him: he came because he was sent. And I mean, yeah, but he was sent with the Third Seal, so it's pretty clear he was supposed to learn shit too. Hart doesn't argue though, he just says that he's done shirking his responsibilities. He wants to learn how to rule.
Tarron asks if he's seen Niall do none of it, and Hart's thoughts are...unsurprising.
Oh, aye, he had, in bits and pieces. But he had steadfastly refused to attend council sessions, petition hearings and other assorted requirements of kingship, perfectly willing to let Brennan do it all instead. He had a rudimentary knowledge of what constituted governing—the ruler had to sit in judgment on citizens who had disputes, settle treaties between other realms, levy taxes, tribute, and so on, plus innumerable other duties— but when it came down to it, he had not the faintest idea what was expected of him. Particularly in a foreign realm.
"Teach me,” he said only, hoping it was enough.
The problem with Hart's section, ultimately, isn't that Hart himself is an unlikeable wastrel. Though he is, in my opinion. It's that it also weakens Niall in the process. Why on EARTH did Niall allow this to happen? Why didn't he FORCE these kids to sit in on lessons? TIE THEM TO THE FUCKING CHAIR if you have to!
Hart's gambling addiction is one thing. That's hard to understand and hard to deal with. I admit that. But the rest - the absolute disinterest in anything resembling responsibility, the lack of any kind of basic knowledge of his subject realm...those things are fucking fixable. Or should have been!
That said, this is enough. Tarron is skeptical, but willing to allow Hart to accompany him as he goes to attend a hearing about a boundary dispute between two Solindish lordlings. (A river changed course, exposing new land that they're fighting over.)
We do learn, again, that Solindish governance is kind of badly handled:
"Without the Third Seal, what can you do?" he asked.
Parchment crackled. "Delay," the regent said succinctly. "No real business can be conducted without it, but until I hear from the Mujhar I cannot let slip the news the Seal is lost. We must hope the Solindish do not grow restless over countless delays and obfuscation ... I think they will not understand why it is you lost it in a game."
Okay, look, not to excuse Hart. Hart is a fucking moron. We've covered that. But why the fuck is the governance so wrapped up in these seals? Especially when the series has shown us that travel between the countries takes a fucking long time. Evidence right fucking here: Hart's been in Solinde for weeks now, and Tarron still hasn't been able to send word to Niall.
Why are they even going through this pantomime? Niall is the king of Solinde through repeated conquest AND bloodline. Just change it.
Actually, maybe that's what Tarron has in mind, because he makes an interesting suggestion:
"It would certainly serve his own interests." Tarron nodded as guardsmen in Homanan livery swung open the heavy wooden doors of the audience chamber. "But perhaps this will serve yours, my lord; if you are the one to make the decision, it will let the Solindish know you are indeed planning to rule." He nodded greetings toward the men waiting in the chamber and made his way to a table on a dais.
TARRON can't act without the Seal, but Tarron is only a regent. Hart, as the Prince, might not need it after all?
Hart is taken aback: he's got no experience in such things. (Why, Niall, why???)
I kind of love Tarron's reaction though:
"I suggest you get it, my lord, as any man does: by listening, and by determining which party deserves the judgment rendered in his favor." Tarron put the stack of parchments on the table and stepped away, motioning Hart to accept the only chair. "And now, my lord, I leave you to it."
Hee.
But argh, we actually don't get to see Hart's first arbitration. Instead we skip to afterward. Come ON, Roberson. Hart actually learning to be king is what I'm HERE for! He's actually taking steps in the right direction! Let me see them!
But instead, we skip to after dark, where Hart is heading to the White Swan. Oh brother. He does however make the decision NOT to wager. He's just going to while away the hours in a hospitable (or inhospitable, the narrative corrects) tavern.
...well, it's a start?
The wine-girl flashes his Homanan signet at him. He offers to buy it back, but she's enjoying his suffering too much. Then Dar comes.
The Solindishman glittered with silver and sapphires at collar, cuffs, wrists, fingers and belt, ice against indigo velvet. The royal colors. Hart knew, and wondered if Dar had dressed for him in the spirit of the wager. But then he spoke, and Hart knew he had dressed for no man at all.
"I have been with Ilsa," he said calmly, sitting down at the table without bothering to wait for an invitation. "A most sumptuous meal, and served by the lady herself." A raised finger brought Oma with a cup and his favorite wine. "She told me an interesting tale."
...oh dear.
Dar thinks that Hart was trying to win Ilsa through frankness. Hart says that he thought to be frank with her for the sake of honesty and honor. He urges Dar to end the wager, it's unfair to Ilsa and Solinde.
Dar tells him to declare a forfeit and go home. Hart says he can't.
...so, just laugh it off and leave, Hart. Solinde wasn't yours to wager. Niall is sure as hell not going to hold to the terms given. Just laugh in Dar's face and go back to the palace. If Ilsa knows the bet is off, she's got no reason to marry Dar.
This exchange is interesting though:
Dar smiled. "What choice is there, shapechanger? She wants me to live—she told me so herself—so she will not choose you. She would prefer Solinde remain Solindish; again, so she will not choose you. She would prefer a man she knows as Consort, so she will not choose one of the other lords." He drank again, then leaned forward intently. "She will name my name, shapechanger. Be certain of it."
Hart smiled. "Then why are you so uncertain?" His smile widened as Dar's lids flickered. "No matter what she may have said to you tonight, you still are not sure. You still have doubts. You know there is a good chance she may choose me after all."
"Ilsa will do what is right for Solinde."
"She will do what is best for all concerned," Hart poured more ale into his cup. "It is how such decisions are made; one weighs all issues, and then one decides which best serves all involved." It was what he had done with the old lords and their river dispute, though he could offer nothing until the Seal was recovered.
Oh, never mind. I guess Hart needs the Seal too. But he seems to have gotten to Dar, because Dar immediately offers a game. And Hart...Hart says No.
"No?" Dar's sandy brows lifted. "You say no?"
"I say no." Hart drank ale. "The game begins to pall, Dar ... I will pass."
Dar slapped his belt-purse down on the table. Red gold chimed.
Hart smiled. "No."
Dar stripped his fingers and wrists of gem-studded silver.
Still Hart smiled. "No."
"What do you want?" the Solindishman asked. "The Seal is already wagered." He smiled suddenly. "The stallion. You want to win back the stallion Ilsa gave you."
Slowly Hart shook his head.
Dar's brown eyes narrowed. "Then what?"
"To watch you squirm," Hart said softly, "and now I have seen it without wagering even a silver penny." He pushed his stool back, scraping it against hardwood, and rang down a red coin on the table to pay for his ale.
"You will lose, Dar. Ilsa. Solinde. Your life. Because I have learned when to stop, and you have not even begun."
...okay, I will give Hart this. This is a pretty great moment.
All along, Dar's been playing Hart. All along, Hart's been letting him. But what happens if Hart refuses to play anymore?
Dar's got the Seal. Okay. What can he do with it? Let Hart make a new symbol. Niall will hold to what Hart promises as heir, as long as it's reasonable. Dar marries Ilsa...okay, maybe, MAYBE he can unite the Solindish lords to fight a war Solinde's lost two generations in a row. What does Dar really have here?
Hart leaves the tavern. And later, it's not clear how MUCH later, Hart receives an invitation from Lady Ilsa. Per the message, Ilsa has made a decision and wants him and Dar to know of it. Tarron is perplexed. Hart says he'll get his answer later.
Hart wonders if he dresses to celebrate a marriage or lose a realm. He thinks about his twin, who "would compliment him on his decision to take a cheysula, even if it was not his decision at all. Brennan would tell him he was finally growing up, maturing, becoming the man he was meant to be."
I don't think Brennan's really got the right to weigh in on anyone's marriage right about now. Also, he's kind of busy.
Rael's a bit smug though, agreeing that perhaps Hart is finally answering his tahlmorra.
Oh, hey, awesome. We FINALLY have a time frame! Hart's been gone from Homana for three months!
Yeesh, how long DOES the commute from Homana-Mujhar to Lestra take? Because it didn't seem like Hart was here that long. (It does however indicate then that's it's probably been two months since the end of Part Two.)
So Hart wonders what he'll tell Niall if he loses. Rael says: the truth, as no matter what the punishment, the loss of a country is worth it.
So Hart is led to a private receiving chamber. Dar is there. As are six men in Solindish livery. Ilsa, we're told, has gone to bed. She's "done her part of this night's work by summoning [Hart] here: the rest is left to [Dar]."
I asked what Dar could do exactly, if Hart refused to play. Well...looks like there's one other option:
Dar grinned and waved a casual forefinger. His men moved closer to Hart. "Which wager, shapechanger? The one between you and me—or the one I struck with Strahan?"
The Ihlini are Solindish, after all. Oh dear.
Dar is not, himself, Ihlini. But he likes power and Ilsa, and Strahan basically offered him both as a wager.
Hart's pretty confident though. Rael's outside, but close enough for the connection. He can shapechange, after all, right? The men close in, Hart starts to warn Dar, but Dar ignores him.
He orders Hart brought to the table, and one of the men to draw his sword. This does NOT look good...
"Hold him," Dar said. "Stretch out his left arm so the flat of his hand is on the wood. Quickly Hart tapped the power.
Smoothly, Dar drew his knife and stabbed it through the splayed hand, pinning it to the table. "There," he said. "Shapechange now, shapechanger."
Shapechange requires concentration. A knife through the hand is an understandable disruption of that concentration. And now...
Dar's eyes were dilated black. “Once you told me you would sooner wager your left hand than your lir, shapechanger. Well, you have lost the wager. And now you have lost the hand." He signaled the man with the sword.
"Hack it off. Now."
The blow was swift and very clean, slicing through flesh and bone to stop short in the ironwood. And pain-less, so stunned was Hart. Standing only by dint of the men who held him up, he stared at the arm that now ended at his wrist.
...well. Fuck.
Dar uses an iron to burn the stump and Hart collapses, ending the chapter.
--
Well. That happened.
So we get another interlude. Strahan and Lilith at the Gate of Asar-Suti. It...seems a little kinky.
One hand was outthrust, palm down, as if he intended to summon Asar-Suti himself. As perhaps he did; white flame licked up, touched, curled around the fingers, gloved his hand entirely, then deepened to lilac, to lavender, to deepest lurid purple. In its reflection, Strahan smiled his beautiful, deadly smile.
She saw a tendril of flame slip beneath the cuff of his doublet, beneath the white edge of his linen shirt. Where it went she could not follow, for it cloaked itself in his clothing; then, abruptly, it blossomed at his collar, caressed the flesh of his neck, touched a gentle fingertip to the sharp-edged line of his jaw.
Um. Are you getting felt up by your god, Strahan?
Damn, Ihlini get all the perks don't they? Cool powers. No substantial restrictions. Women can do shit too. Long lifespan. AND they get felt up by their horny god.
Lillith even describes it as "eerie intercourse", just in case you think I'm reading too much into it.
There is an interesting hierarchal element here though. Lillith is older and arguably more powerful than Strahan, but Strahan is the "god's own chosen". And yeah, it's still looking pretty kinky.
And then, abruptly, the webwork came undone. Tendrils withdrew, untying knots; untied, the knots fell into disarray. Within moments Strahan was merely Strahan, and the god was gone from him.
He shut his eyes and released a shuddering breath of deep satisfaction, as if he had lain with a woman. Head bowed, he made his obeisance to the god, and then he rose to face his sister across the glowing Gate.
Strahan informs Lillith that Dar has won his wager. Lillith asks if Strahan will pay his price? Gross. It's depressing to think Strahan has control over Ilsa like that. Strahan doesn't really answer directly:
Strahan smiled. "Dar is an overly ambitious man with overweening pride. One day he and his pride will stumble over those ambitions, and he will fall."
Lillith and I are both annoyed at the lack of answer, but she doesn't push. She asks how Strahan will break "this one."
Strahan shrugged. "I think it is already done, or very nearly so. The Cheysuli can be a hard, seemingly heartless race, even with their own; the clans require whole men as warriors, unmaimed—whole in flesh as well as spirit—in order to maintain the viability of the race.
Much like animals, they cull the pack of the weakest in order to protect the rest." Again he shrugged. "Perhaps they have the right of it; I have no use for the weak."
We've danced around the topic of Cheysuli and disability. From back in Song of Homana, when Finn was in danger of losing his leg. Niall skirted it with his maiming: you can still fight with one eye, as he proves. One hand though...
Especially for a bird shifter. Can Hart even fly now? Does he have both wings?
Lillith asks how he'll mend him.
Strahan laughed. "By offering him a reason to live again. Service to me can make him whole, though not in the way he might wish. But by then it will not matter—he will be too firmly bound."
So. We're two brothers down. One to go. Lillith is heading to Atvia.
The Interlude, and Hart's segment of the story, ends.
I do rather like how both brothers' capture comes out of their own character flaws. Brennan is both arrogant and naive. He falls into the trap of trying to play savior, and then lets his wounded pride blind him to Rhiannon's plans. And Hart...well, every decision Hart made basically set this avalanche in motion. In his case, he actually did seem to be coming to his senses in the end. But it was already too late.
Will Corin fare better? We'll find out!
A change in sporkers
Date: 2023-08-15 08:46 am (UTC)Alix: Why are those masses of ooze called Lemures? They look nothing like the animal!
Pan: So, co-sporked by my OC Kitty and Rose Tico.
Helpfully, Hart gathered the parchments from the table and placed them on the stack in Tarron's arms. "I want you to teach me how to rule. It is what I came for,"
Pan: Finally, you started getting responsible!
Kitty: I want context.
(I explain)
Rose: Ah, gambling, the bane of the existence of so many people.
The problem with Hart's section, ultimately, isn't that Hart himself is an unlikeable wastrel. Though he is, in my opinion. It's that it also weakens Niall in the process. Why on EARTH did Niall allow this to happen? Why didn't he FORCE these kids to sit in on lessons? TIE THEM TO THE FUCKING CHAIR if you have to!
Pan: Still better than all the previous protagonists.
Rose: Except maybe Alix, she is a sweetheart when not around rapists.
Why are they even going through this pantomime? Niall is the king of Solinde through repeated conquest AND bloodline. Just change it.
Kitty: Because some people sacrifice common sense for the illusion of honor. Have you heard of Din Djarin?
Dar smiled. "What choice is there, shapechanger? She wants me to live—she told me so herself—so she will not choose you. She would prefer Solinde remain Solindish; again, so she will not choose you. She would prefer a man she knows as Consort, so she will not choose one of the other lords." He drank again, then leaned forward intently. "She will name my name, shapechanger. Be certain of it."
Hart smiled. "Then why are you so uncertain?" His smile widened as Dar's lids flickered. "No matter what she may have said to you tonight, you still are not sure. You still have doubts. You know there is a good chance she may choose me after all."
"Ilsa will do what is right for Solinde."
"She will do what is best for all concerned," Hart poured more ale into his cup. "It is how such decisions are made; one weighs all issues, and then one decides which best serves all involved." It was what he had done with the old lords and their river dispute, though he could offer nothing until the Seal was recovered.
Kitty: Oh? Hart is really growing a spine and brain!
"No?" Dar's sandy brows lifted. "You say no?"
"I say no." Hart drank ale. "The game begins to pall, Dar ... I will pass."
Dar slapped his belt-purse down on the table. Red gold chimed.
Hart smiled. "No."
Dar stripped his fingers and wrists of gem-studded silver.
Still Hart smiled. "No."
"What do you want?" the Solindishman asked. "The Seal is already wagered." He smiled suddenly. "The stallion. You want to win back the stallion Lisa gave you."
Slowly Hart shook his head.
Pan: I think this is the first time Hart has the upper hand, and Dar is losing it. This is good character development, and a moment of awesome.
Dar's brown eyes narrowed. "Then what?"
"To watch you squirm," Hart said softly, "and now I have seen it without wagering even a silver penny." He pushed his stool back, scraping it against hardwood, and rang down a red coin on the table to pay for his ale.
"You will lose, Dar. Ilsa. Solinde. Your life. Because I have learned when to stop, and you have not even begun."
Rose: Sometimes, you can win a game by not playing.
Pan: And now I respect Hart for the first time. This is genuinely cathartic.
Dar grinned and waved a casual forefinger. His men moved closer to Hart. "Which wager, shapechanger? The one between you and me—or the one I struck with Strahan?"
Rose: Strahan?
Pan: The Matt Engarde of this series.
Rose: Oh, so Dar's evil goes further than exploiting a gambling idiot?
Dar's eyes were dilated black. “Once you told me you would sooner wager your left hand than your lir, shapechanger. Well, you have lost the wager. And now you have lost the hand." He signaled the man with the sword.
"Hack it off. Now."
The blow was swift and very clean, slicing through flesh and bone to stop short in the ironwood. And pain-less, so stunned was Hart. Standing only by dint of the men who held him up, he stared at the arm that now ended at his wrist.
Kitty: A cornered rattlesnake has a vicious bite.
Strahan smiled. "Dar is an overly ambitious man with overweening pride. One day he and his pride will stumble over those ambitions, and he will fall."
Pan: I mean, he came close to losing to a gambler who just learned to stop being an idiot.
Re: A change in sporkers
Date: 2023-08-15 01:03 pm (UTC)That's very true!
And actually, for all of my frustration toward the guy, I have to list Hart as one of the better protagonists as well. I get annoyed by his irresponsibility and lack of anything resembling introspective thought, but those are understandable flaws. He's not an abusive rapist! Yay!
Kitty: Because some people sacrifice common sense for the illusion of honor. Have you heard of Din Djarin?
I feel like Din is a little too impatient/practical to put up with this Third Seal nonsense. But fair point in general. :-D
Re: A change in sporkers
Date: 2023-08-15 03:24 pm (UTC)Re: A change in sporkers
Date: 2023-08-15 04:00 pm (UTC)If "the Trey" has more of a religious significance, it'd make sense why Niall continues to use it, even if it is remarkably inconvenient.
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Date: 2024-09-13 05:53 pm (UTC)(I also like the idea of her and Tarron bonding over facepalming at Hart, and that turning into a mutual respect that they can build a political marriage on. The age gap is... questionable, but Ilsa's an adult, and Tarron being so much older means he'll probably die sooner and leave her free to wed for her heart. And as he's been viceroy of Solinde for so long, he's likely to have both an understanding of the country and a vested interest in preserving its stability.)
no subject
Date: 2024-09-13 06:34 pm (UTC)