![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kalinara posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
i_read_whatSome time ago, like a few years back now, I reviewed the first book in Mercedes Lackey's "Bardic Voices" series. It was pretty decent as I recall!
I actually got a request on Discord to do the second book in the series! And I like requests a lot, so here we go!
I remember enjoying this series quite a lot, and I actually think this book may have been my favorite as a kid. There are a few major differences between "the Robin and the Kestrel" and "the Lark and the Wren". First, Lark was more of a coming of age story - with mostly unconnected vignettes that followed Rune throughout her development and into becoming a full blown bard. In Robin, the coming of age story is done. Both of our titular characters are adults (if young), fully recognized in their profession, and are married to boot.
There's also more of a defined plot in this book, as the characters will end up going to a specific place to deal with a specific problem. We'll see how well it all fits together!
Now, as for our elephant in the room. The "G-issue" is still a thing. "Gypsies" are a major part of this setting, and referred to as that term, which after this point I will be replacing with [Rom] or [Roma] in direct quotes. The portrayal is, I think, intended to be positive. But I still have no real practical knowledge that can tell me if the portrayal has any basis in reality or if it's resorting to harmful stereotypes.
So we already start off in an interesting place, viewpoint wise. Because we're actually starting with Kestrel. Or rather, "Jonny Brede" as he apparently sees himself.
It's interesting to me because we actually never knew how this character refers to himself. Because of his late introduction and his role in the last part of the story, we never actually saw his point of view. Ever. And one chapter after we learn his name, we learned that it was an alias anyway.
That said, Jonny's only going to be Jonny for about three paragraphs, as it says:
Jonny Brede grinned at that, in spite of the miserable situation; it had a good ring to it. A nice turn of phrase. He'd have to tell Robin; she could store it away in her capacious memory and put it in a song some time. She was the one with a talent for lyrics, not he. They hadn't been out of Birnam for more than a week when she'd already crafted a song about the two of them, "The [Roma] Prince."
"If I don't, someone else will," she reasoned, "and if it isn't Rune or Talaysen, they'll probably get it all wrong. Never trust your story to someone else."
Well, she had a point. Though he simply could not think of himself as "Sional," much less as "Prince Sional"—not anymore.
Not when the "Prince" was in command of no more than himself, two mares, and a shovel. Better "Jonny," or better yet, "Free Bard Kestrel."
So, yeah, Kestrel it is.
We're going to see a lot fewer comparisons to Menolly or Harper Hall in these reviews, because well, the direct parallel isn't the point anymore. But I do rather like how this bit gives Sional/Jonny/Kestrel some actual say in how his story gets told. Or at least, it gives him the opportunity to have an emotional reaction to it. Unlike poor Brekke.
So the situation as we start is Kestrel reflecting on "happily ever after". It's a little meta, since the first Bardic Voices book ended so smoothly for everyone. Do characters in the story realize when they reach the happily ever after point?
But it actually does make sense that Kestrel would see it this way given the course of the poor kid's life. He's out of exile, reconciled with his family, rendered himself ineligible as a rival to the throne and thus ensuring his safety, AND gotten married! For someone who'd been a homeless, frightened drifter some weeks/months before, that's a transition.
That said, he's musing on happily ever after because at this point their travel-wagon is stuck in a pothole. In the pouring rain.
But at least he's not alone. We get our first glimpse of Gwyna - though I think this book is likely to stick more with "Robin". Which does make some sense, I think. Gwyna's grown up in Free Bard culture the way Rune hadn't, and she's also a Rom, with her culture's own tradition of use names.
He shoveled a little more muddy gravel under the wheel of their caravan-wagon and took a cautious peek at his bride of a few scant weeks through a curtain of rain. The last time he'd looked at her, she'd been giving the wagon a glare as black as the thunderclouds overhead. She'd been standing to one side of their patient, sturdy, ebony mares, fists on her hips, gaudy clothing pasted to her body by the rain, with her ebony hair Battened down on her head and her lips moving silently. He did not think she was praying. The look on her face had boded ill for the King's road crew, if she ever discovered who had permitted this enormous pothole to form and nil with soft, sucking mud.
The wife's a bit cranky today. Understandably.
There is a point that's a LITTLE concerning, where Kestrel hopes that her temper cools before she needs to find a target for her anger that's not the storm. But that might just be leftover misgivings from the Golden Queen. I'm not a fan of hot-tempered ladies resorting to physical violence with their boyfriends. But then that was Wolverton, and Lackey, for all her faults, doesn't tend toward that trope at all.
I'm thinking the beat's meant to be more about him rather than her, since his upbringing likely would make him pretty sensitive to other people's anger.
Anyway, Kestrel himself is actually pretty happy right now. They're wet, cold, and muddy with a mired wagon. (This happened because the horses shied at a lightning strike.) But it could be worse, the wagon wasn't hit. No one's hurt. The horses aren't hurt.
We do get some clumsy backstory recollection for folks who didn't read Lark and the Wren:
He shoveled in another load of gravel, which splashed into the yellow mud and sank. Prince Sional, huh. Oh, it's a great thing to be a Prince, when your father sticks you in a so-called palace that's half derelict, with one servant to care for a child, an invalid Queen to do all the char work, and deal with leaky roofs and cracks in the walls. It's a great thing to be royal, when your kingly father trots you out only for special occasions when a live son is useful. It's a fine thing to be a Prince, when you've got snow on your satin bedspread in the winter, leaks onto your head in the summer, and the servants at the Crown Palace eat better than you do. When your only friend is a Guild Bard who should have retired a hundred years ago . . .
So yeah, a refresher for those who might have forgotten Lark. Kestrel/Jonny/Sional had been the prince of a kingdom. His dad was a Henry VIII style wastrel who thought the wife and kid cramped his style. Then the dude got overthrown. The court bard, Darian, ran off with the kid and took sanctuary with the Bardic Guild of a neighboring country.
As it turns out, the overthrower was the King's much more competent brother, who hadn't actually intended on hurting the kid. But well, misunderstandings happen.
The Bardic Guild kind of sucks though, so they saw Darian as an interloper and shuffled him and his sick apprentice aside. "Jonny" got better, Darian got worse and died. They gave his apprentice the boot, and then Jonny spent the next few years scrounging for a living.
I actually think this retelling is pretty well done. I mean, it's repetitious, if you've just finished reading the first book. And it is basically just a few pages of exposition. But it's exposition from the point of view of a character who's never really gotten the opportunity to express his own opinion about it. At least not without that god-awful, phonetically written stutter.
There are some nice beats here too where Kestrel interrupts his own mental monologue with stuff like:
He had to keep reminding himself that it was all in the past. Otherwise he'd get too angry about things he couldn't change. That was what Master Wren kept telling him, and he was right.
He shoveled in another load of gravel, packing it down savagely. Oh, that was what everyone told him, but forgetting, now—that was the hard part.
Kestrel's not OKAY, per se. He's been through a lot and probably would benefit from a good therapist. But his emotions are rational, understandable, and he's processing them in a healthy way. He's also clearly got support now. And the mentions of Wren/Talaysen reinforce that. (And it's not really a F'nor getting undue credit sort of retelling. Kestrel doesn't credit Talaysen with undo experience. He does focus more on Talaysen than Rune, because Talaysen is the one who played more of a mentor role.)
The scounging for survival part of Kestrel's life had been pretty unpleasant, but it became worse, if you recall, when assassins started trying to kill him. At this point, his uncle realized he was alive and assumed that Kestrel would be a rival - either from his own volition or used by others, so...
Credit where it's due, especially after reading a lot of McCaffrey, Rolend is a character with a lot of nuance. A villain who isn't exactly evil - though sending assassins after a child pretty much precludes you from being "good". He's competent, mostly well-meaning, and really good at self-serving justifications. It's probably for the best that Kestrel find another place to wander, just for everyone's peace of mind.
(Robin, by the way, has "that knack for dealing with animals that all [Roma] seemed to have", and has calmed down the horses.)
It is rather funny to see Jonny's summation of his meeting with Talaysen, Rune and Gwyna.
All he had known at the time was that the man was accompanied by two young and attractive women, and to Jonny's eyes was spending a great deal of money. He had assumed that the man was—well—their "honey-papa," as the shepherds would say, an older man who bought young ladies nice things and received most particular and personal attentions from them in return.
That he had been mistaken was his good fortune rather than his bad, for that was when his streak of horrible luck finally broke. Talaysen had caught him, but had not sought to punish, but to help him. The young women had been his wife, the Free Bard Rune, and a [Roma] Free Bard named Gwyna, but far more often referred to as "Robin."
I enjoy unnecessary fantasy renaming of modern ideas. "Honey-papa" indeed.
This bit makes me laugh too:
Kestrel grinned at that memory. Robin had first loaded him down with all her packages to carry, without so much as a "by-your-leave," and then had marched him off to get a bath in the stream and had made it very clear that either he would bathe, or she would bathe him. And her expression had told him wordlessly that if she did the bathing, it would be thorough, but not pleasant. He opted to scrub himself down, and change into some old clothing of Rune's rather than his own rags.
I feel like our Kestrel is a lad who rather enjoys getting bossed around by pretty girls sometimes. He and Robin might want to revisit that a bit. Maybe once he relaxes a bit more and is a bit less hyperaware of her anger.
We also get a bit of a summary about "Bardic Magic". And we get confirmation that despite his disrupted training, Kestrel also has his share.
One of the Elves who'd come to his wedding, one of those who were allies of both Talaysen and King Rolend, had told him that it was no accident, his being in Karsdown at the same time as the other three. "Your Bardic magery was awakening," the Elf had said, with lofty off-handedness. "It called to them, as theirs called to you. If you had not met then, you would have met soon."
He rubbed his nose, uneasily. He wasn't altogether certain about this "Bardic Magic" business. It was easy enough for Wren to be blithe about it; he was a Master twice over, in the Guild Bards and the Free Bards, and a nobleman to boot. He was used to power of all sorts. Kestrel was far from comfortable with the idea that he could influence people and events just by thinking and singing . . . .
It occurs to me that Talaysen's side of the Lark and the Wren had some interesting examination of privilege. Talaysen being, as noted here, a respected Master of his craft, older, established and powerful, vs Rune who had natural ability and strong temperament, but was still starting off in her craft. Or Gwyna, who was respected as a Bard, but lacked his experience and seniority, and is both a woman and not white to boot.
This book has some elements of that, but in a different way. For one thing, there's more of an equal power dynamic between Robin and Kestrel at the start. They're closer in age (implicitly at least, Kestrel's actually the younger of the two.). He's got the royal upbringing, but that really doesn't mean much in a practical sense. She's the more established one in the society they've chosen.
During his time in poverty it might have actually been advantageous to be a Rom, given the type of work he was trying to do, but it's also true that he's not subject to the same immediate prejudice.
As a spoiler though, the society that they're going to be investigating, he will have more built in privilege, since it's deep in Church country. He's both male and white and that does get some reflection as both characters deal with the situation. Though, the stutter is still an issue and introduces some ableism in the mix... But I'm getting ahead of myself. (It's not deep, but it is an interesting note.)
We drift into a recap of Kestrel's adoption into the group, the visit to the [Roma] camp where Kestrel got his name - and it really is a funny beat that it came about because of his stutter. If you recall, Jonny tripped over the word "clerical" and disgustedly said he sounded like a Kestrel. They gave him the name on the spot. It could have come across mean spirited, especially if it had come from even gentle mockery, but instead reads like a reclamation of sorts. A point of embarrassment becomes warm acceptance.
It was, it occurs to me, rather clever that Lackey never had used Kestrel as a viewpoint character in Lark, because while it made him more plot point over character in that book, it gives a rather gentle reintroduction to him here. As I already said, the alternate viewpoint makes things a little less repetitive AND his reactions and musings lets us get to know him as a person too. We know him, but we're getting to meet him. If that makes sense.
It's probably odd that I'm praising this when I was bitching about the constant "let's see Toric react to White Dragon plot points" in Renegades. But there's a big difference here. This is one chapter. When we're done with the chapter, the retelling will be over.
This probably could be a little shorter though. Especially when we get to the quest part of the recollection. I also maybe feel like Kestrel could have a bit more of an emotional reaction to finally getting his full memory back. But maybe that's a character beat too. By that point in his life, the poor kid had been so beaten down that he was a living example of that John Mulaney bit of "this might as well happen too".
I do think maybe the editor might have trimmed some of this though. I'm thinking of Kestrel's retelling of the elves telling them that Charlis was bad, Rolend was competent bit. Only because I don't feel like that's as notable to Kestrel himself. Kestrel does, at this point, remember how his dad treated him. The fact that Charlis was just as much a dick to the kingdom itself is notable, but probably not surprising.
But it's at least a fairly breezy recap.
I like this though. Kestrel reflecting on his uncle's choices:
Intellectually—well, I could understand that. Kestrel stood for a moment to ease his cramping shoulders, then went back to his work. And now that I've met with Uncle—all I can say is, I'm glad things worked out this way. The trouble with Uncle Rolend is that he is very good at convincing himself that he is doing something for the best possible reason. 'It's awfully easy for someone like that to think that the end justifies the means.
It's not important because it's new information. I just described Rolend like that a few paragraphs ago. But I do think this part gives us a nice little insight in Kestrel.
1. He's able to sympathize with his uncle's plight, even though his uncle's actions caused him a lot of pain and difficulty.
2. He's not naive or romantic about it though. He's got a clear-headed idea of his uncle's flaws. And how they could end up being an issue in the future.
I do think Kestrel may not be giving himself enough credit when he says he'd be a bad king. He's young, adaptable, willing to listen to counsel, but not blind to its faults. He'd probably do as well as anyone. Though he's probably right when he says Rune would make a better king. Rune would make an awesome king.
So we get to the end of the recap. Kestrel recalling his very public abdication and the way he "seals" his "unsuitability" through a marriage proposal. And really, it's a good thing Gwyna's practical, because while I don't doubt that he loves her and wants to marry her, the fact that part of his reason IS to be unsuitable to rule is a bit...
Well, not exactly romantic. But fortunately Lackey tends toward a level of pragmatism in her heroes and heroines. (We're not quite in that stage where she outright attacks romantic fantasy ideals yet. But the seeds are there.)
But yeah. A King can't wed a commoner - his vassals wouldn't allow it. And a nobleman can't wed a [Rom]. So there you go. Freedom! And well, enough of a tie to the throne to get a very nice gift of a wagon.
Also, with Talaysen and Rune as court bards, they can probably keep Rolend calm and easy going enough not to freak out about his nephew. With magic, if necessary.
Meanwhile, Kestrel's pretty happy. He's got wanderlust and is looking forward to traveling places and seeing cool things.
I am far more likely to thank my uncle than hold a grudge against him. This time he didn't bother to hold back the grin. He is stuck on that stupid block of a throne for the rest of his life, and he will never move more than twenty leagues from his own castle. He will never see the Mintaks and their step-pyramids, the canal-streets of the Loo'oo'alains, the walled fortress-city of the Deliambrens! Why, he probably won't even go under the Elven Hills with the Elves in his own little kingdom!
Our boy has ambitions. And well, the wagon is pretty luxurious as it is.
We finally break from the recap for some character interaction:
"What are you grinning about?"
Robin came around the side of the wagon, and scraped a draggle of wet hair out of her eyes as she spoke. Jonny seized her wrist and pulled her over to him, giving her a muddy hug and a passionate kiss, both of which she returned with such interest that he began to think he might steam himself dry in her arms. He let go with reluctance.
"I'm g-g-grinning at th-this!" he said, waving his hand at the wagon, the horses, themselves. "I m-m-mean, think ab-b-bout it! We may be s-s-stuck, but we c-c-can just unhitch th-th-the horses and g-g-get inside if w-w-we want! Th-th-there's nothing s-s-stopping us, if w-w-we d-decide to g-g-give up for a little. It's ours. Y-y-you s-s-see?"
...and now we get to the downside of the book.
Lackey insists on writing the stutter. All the fucking time. Every bit of dialogue. It's egregious. We get it.
That said, I suppose the one thing I do appreciate is that the aggravation of reading the phonetic stutter does reinforce the idea that, in a setting like this, a stutter is pretty debilitating. There aren't any speech therapists here, after all. And a stutter often comes complete with assumptions about someone's mental state. (That can still be an issue in our society today, after all.)
But it's still pretty fucking annoying. And oddly-but-interestingly jarring when nestled in the midst of Kestrel's viewpoint narration.
Both Robin and Kestrel have moments of being the point of view character in the book, but I feel like I remember him having a bit more of it than she does. It makes some sense, I think, as it's easier to get his characterization across in a way that minimizes some of the need to speak out loud.
Anyway, Kestrel's good cheer is contagious:
She nodded, finally, and a ghost of a smile appeared as her frown of worry faded. "You know, you're right. We don't have to be anywhere. We've got anything a [Rom] could ever want, we can get out of the wet if we get tired of trying to fish this thing out of the mud, and the horses will survive a soaking."
He nodded vigorously. "You s-s-see? We aren't even b-b-blocking the r-r-road! W-w-we can w-w-wait unt-t-til someone c-c-comes along who c-c-can give us a h-h-hand! And if anything is b-b-broken, w-we have the m-money to f-f-fix it! Th-th-that's m-m-more than I've ever been able to say b-b-before!" He lowered his eyelids suggestively. "Th-th-there's lots of w-w-ways to get w-w-warm."
They're also pretty cute and flirty. The nice thing about a story where the main couple has already gotten together is you can skip the will-they/won't-they.
That said, Robin does want to at least TRY to get the wagon out before they go inside and bang. But she's now recalling that a year ago, she'd have been trying to keep warm and dry huddled under a rock overhang or even under a fallen log.
The chapter ends with this cute bit:
"Are you s-s-sorry you d-d-didn't get the K-K-King of R-B-Birnam after all?" he asked, ruefully. "You w-w-wouldn't be standing in the m-m-mud if you had."
But Robin only grinned, her good nature restored by the exertion. "Powers forfend!" she replied. "The King of Birnam would be fair useless getting this blasted wheel out of the mud! Let's try that notion of yours, of heaving up and trying to shore up the wheel while it's up."
It had been a faint hope more than an idea, but if Robin wanted to try it he was game.
"You d-d-do the c-c-counting," he said, with a self-deprecating laugh. "If I d-d-do, we'll b-b-be here all d-d-day!"
...
HOPEFULLY the cuteness will continue to mitigate the horrific phonetic dialogue. We'll see.
I actually got a request on Discord to do the second book in the series! And I like requests a lot, so here we go!
I remember enjoying this series quite a lot, and I actually think this book may have been my favorite as a kid. There are a few major differences between "the Robin and the Kestrel" and "the Lark and the Wren". First, Lark was more of a coming of age story - with mostly unconnected vignettes that followed Rune throughout her development and into becoming a full blown bard. In Robin, the coming of age story is done. Both of our titular characters are adults (if young), fully recognized in their profession, and are married to boot.
There's also more of a defined plot in this book, as the characters will end up going to a specific place to deal with a specific problem. We'll see how well it all fits together!
Now, as for our elephant in the room. The "G-issue" is still a thing. "Gypsies" are a major part of this setting, and referred to as that term, which after this point I will be replacing with [Rom] or [Roma] in direct quotes. The portrayal is, I think, intended to be positive. But I still have no real practical knowledge that can tell me if the portrayal has any basis in reality or if it's resorting to harmful stereotypes.
So we already start off in an interesting place, viewpoint wise. Because we're actually starting with Kestrel. Or rather, "Jonny Brede" as he apparently sees himself.
It's interesting to me because we actually never knew how this character refers to himself. Because of his late introduction and his role in the last part of the story, we never actually saw his point of view. Ever. And one chapter after we learn his name, we learned that it was an alias anyway.
That said, Jonny's only going to be Jonny for about three paragraphs, as it says:
Jonny Brede grinned at that, in spite of the miserable situation; it had a good ring to it. A nice turn of phrase. He'd have to tell Robin; she could store it away in her capacious memory and put it in a song some time. She was the one with a talent for lyrics, not he. They hadn't been out of Birnam for more than a week when she'd already crafted a song about the two of them, "The [Roma] Prince."
"If I don't, someone else will," she reasoned, "and if it isn't Rune or Talaysen, they'll probably get it all wrong. Never trust your story to someone else."
Well, she had a point. Though he simply could not think of himself as "Sional," much less as "Prince Sional"—not anymore.
Not when the "Prince" was in command of no more than himself, two mares, and a shovel. Better "Jonny," or better yet, "Free Bard Kestrel."
So, yeah, Kestrel it is.
We're going to see a lot fewer comparisons to Menolly or Harper Hall in these reviews, because well, the direct parallel isn't the point anymore. But I do rather like how this bit gives Sional/Jonny/Kestrel some actual say in how his story gets told. Or at least, it gives him the opportunity to have an emotional reaction to it. Unlike poor Brekke.
So the situation as we start is Kestrel reflecting on "happily ever after". It's a little meta, since the first Bardic Voices book ended so smoothly for everyone. Do characters in the story realize when they reach the happily ever after point?
But it actually does make sense that Kestrel would see it this way given the course of the poor kid's life. He's out of exile, reconciled with his family, rendered himself ineligible as a rival to the throne and thus ensuring his safety, AND gotten married! For someone who'd been a homeless, frightened drifter some weeks/months before, that's a transition.
That said, he's musing on happily ever after because at this point their travel-wagon is stuck in a pothole. In the pouring rain.
But at least he's not alone. We get our first glimpse of Gwyna - though I think this book is likely to stick more with "Robin". Which does make some sense, I think. Gwyna's grown up in Free Bard culture the way Rune hadn't, and she's also a Rom, with her culture's own tradition of use names.
He shoveled a little more muddy gravel under the wheel of their caravan-wagon and took a cautious peek at his bride of a few scant weeks through a curtain of rain. The last time he'd looked at her, she'd been giving the wagon a glare as black as the thunderclouds overhead. She'd been standing to one side of their patient, sturdy, ebony mares, fists on her hips, gaudy clothing pasted to her body by the rain, with her ebony hair Battened down on her head and her lips moving silently. He did not think she was praying. The look on her face had boded ill for the King's road crew, if she ever discovered who had permitted this enormous pothole to form and nil with soft, sucking mud.
The wife's a bit cranky today. Understandably.
There is a point that's a LITTLE concerning, where Kestrel hopes that her temper cools before she needs to find a target for her anger that's not the storm. But that might just be leftover misgivings from the Golden Queen. I'm not a fan of hot-tempered ladies resorting to physical violence with their boyfriends. But then that was Wolverton, and Lackey, for all her faults, doesn't tend toward that trope at all.
I'm thinking the beat's meant to be more about him rather than her, since his upbringing likely would make him pretty sensitive to other people's anger.
Anyway, Kestrel himself is actually pretty happy right now. They're wet, cold, and muddy with a mired wagon. (This happened because the horses shied at a lightning strike.) But it could be worse, the wagon wasn't hit. No one's hurt. The horses aren't hurt.
We do get some clumsy backstory recollection for folks who didn't read Lark and the Wren:
He shoveled in another load of gravel, which splashed into the yellow mud and sank. Prince Sional, huh. Oh, it's a great thing to be a Prince, when your father sticks you in a so-called palace that's half derelict, with one servant to care for a child, an invalid Queen to do all the char work, and deal with leaky roofs and cracks in the walls. It's a great thing to be royal, when your kingly father trots you out only for special occasions when a live son is useful. It's a fine thing to be a Prince, when you've got snow on your satin bedspread in the winter, leaks onto your head in the summer, and the servants at the Crown Palace eat better than you do. When your only friend is a Guild Bard who should have retired a hundred years ago . . .
So yeah, a refresher for those who might have forgotten Lark. Kestrel/Jonny/Sional had been the prince of a kingdom. His dad was a Henry VIII style wastrel who thought the wife and kid cramped his style. Then the dude got overthrown. The court bard, Darian, ran off with the kid and took sanctuary with the Bardic Guild of a neighboring country.
As it turns out, the overthrower was the King's much more competent brother, who hadn't actually intended on hurting the kid. But well, misunderstandings happen.
The Bardic Guild kind of sucks though, so they saw Darian as an interloper and shuffled him and his sick apprentice aside. "Jonny" got better, Darian got worse and died. They gave his apprentice the boot, and then Jonny spent the next few years scrounging for a living.
I actually think this retelling is pretty well done. I mean, it's repetitious, if you've just finished reading the first book. And it is basically just a few pages of exposition. But it's exposition from the point of view of a character who's never really gotten the opportunity to express his own opinion about it. At least not without that god-awful, phonetically written stutter.
There are some nice beats here too where Kestrel interrupts his own mental monologue with stuff like:
He had to keep reminding himself that it was all in the past. Otherwise he'd get too angry about things he couldn't change. That was what Master Wren kept telling him, and he was right.
He shoveled in another load of gravel, packing it down savagely. Oh, that was what everyone told him, but forgetting, now—that was the hard part.
Kestrel's not OKAY, per se. He's been through a lot and probably would benefit from a good therapist. But his emotions are rational, understandable, and he's processing them in a healthy way. He's also clearly got support now. And the mentions of Wren/Talaysen reinforce that. (And it's not really a F'nor getting undue credit sort of retelling. Kestrel doesn't credit Talaysen with undo experience. He does focus more on Talaysen than Rune, because Talaysen is the one who played more of a mentor role.)
The scounging for survival part of Kestrel's life had been pretty unpleasant, but it became worse, if you recall, when assassins started trying to kill him. At this point, his uncle realized he was alive and assumed that Kestrel would be a rival - either from his own volition or used by others, so...
Credit where it's due, especially after reading a lot of McCaffrey, Rolend is a character with a lot of nuance. A villain who isn't exactly evil - though sending assassins after a child pretty much precludes you from being "good". He's competent, mostly well-meaning, and really good at self-serving justifications. It's probably for the best that Kestrel find another place to wander, just for everyone's peace of mind.
(Robin, by the way, has "that knack for dealing with animals that all [Roma] seemed to have", and has calmed down the horses.)
It is rather funny to see Jonny's summation of his meeting with Talaysen, Rune and Gwyna.
All he had known at the time was that the man was accompanied by two young and attractive women, and to Jonny's eyes was spending a great deal of money. He had assumed that the man was—well—their "honey-papa," as the shepherds would say, an older man who bought young ladies nice things and received most particular and personal attentions from them in return.
That he had been mistaken was his good fortune rather than his bad, for that was when his streak of horrible luck finally broke. Talaysen had caught him, but had not sought to punish, but to help him. The young women had been his wife, the Free Bard Rune, and a [Roma] Free Bard named Gwyna, but far more often referred to as "Robin."
I enjoy unnecessary fantasy renaming of modern ideas. "Honey-papa" indeed.
This bit makes me laugh too:
Kestrel grinned at that memory. Robin had first loaded him down with all her packages to carry, without so much as a "by-your-leave," and then had marched him off to get a bath in the stream and had made it very clear that either he would bathe, or she would bathe him. And her expression had told him wordlessly that if she did the bathing, it would be thorough, but not pleasant. He opted to scrub himself down, and change into some old clothing of Rune's rather than his own rags.
I feel like our Kestrel is a lad who rather enjoys getting bossed around by pretty girls sometimes. He and Robin might want to revisit that a bit. Maybe once he relaxes a bit more and is a bit less hyperaware of her anger.
We also get a bit of a summary about "Bardic Magic". And we get confirmation that despite his disrupted training, Kestrel also has his share.
One of the Elves who'd come to his wedding, one of those who were allies of both Talaysen and King Rolend, had told him that it was no accident, his being in Karsdown at the same time as the other three. "Your Bardic magery was awakening," the Elf had said, with lofty off-handedness. "It called to them, as theirs called to you. If you had not met then, you would have met soon."
He rubbed his nose, uneasily. He wasn't altogether certain about this "Bardic Magic" business. It was easy enough for Wren to be blithe about it; he was a Master twice over, in the Guild Bards and the Free Bards, and a nobleman to boot. He was used to power of all sorts. Kestrel was far from comfortable with the idea that he could influence people and events just by thinking and singing . . . .
It occurs to me that Talaysen's side of the Lark and the Wren had some interesting examination of privilege. Talaysen being, as noted here, a respected Master of his craft, older, established and powerful, vs Rune who had natural ability and strong temperament, but was still starting off in her craft. Or Gwyna, who was respected as a Bard, but lacked his experience and seniority, and is both a woman and not white to boot.
This book has some elements of that, but in a different way. For one thing, there's more of an equal power dynamic between Robin and Kestrel at the start. They're closer in age (implicitly at least, Kestrel's actually the younger of the two.). He's got the royal upbringing, but that really doesn't mean much in a practical sense. She's the more established one in the society they've chosen.
During his time in poverty it might have actually been advantageous to be a Rom, given the type of work he was trying to do, but it's also true that he's not subject to the same immediate prejudice.
As a spoiler though, the society that they're going to be investigating, he will have more built in privilege, since it's deep in Church country. He's both male and white and that does get some reflection as both characters deal with the situation. Though, the stutter is still an issue and introduces some ableism in the mix... But I'm getting ahead of myself. (It's not deep, but it is an interesting note.)
We drift into a recap of Kestrel's adoption into the group, the visit to the [Roma] camp where Kestrel got his name - and it really is a funny beat that it came about because of his stutter. If you recall, Jonny tripped over the word "clerical" and disgustedly said he sounded like a Kestrel. They gave him the name on the spot. It could have come across mean spirited, especially if it had come from even gentle mockery, but instead reads like a reclamation of sorts. A point of embarrassment becomes warm acceptance.
It was, it occurs to me, rather clever that Lackey never had used Kestrel as a viewpoint character in Lark, because while it made him more plot point over character in that book, it gives a rather gentle reintroduction to him here. As I already said, the alternate viewpoint makes things a little less repetitive AND his reactions and musings lets us get to know him as a person too. We know him, but we're getting to meet him. If that makes sense.
It's probably odd that I'm praising this when I was bitching about the constant "let's see Toric react to White Dragon plot points" in Renegades. But there's a big difference here. This is one chapter. When we're done with the chapter, the retelling will be over.
This probably could be a little shorter though. Especially when we get to the quest part of the recollection. I also maybe feel like Kestrel could have a bit more of an emotional reaction to finally getting his full memory back. But maybe that's a character beat too. By that point in his life, the poor kid had been so beaten down that he was a living example of that John Mulaney bit of "this might as well happen too".
I do think maybe the editor might have trimmed some of this though. I'm thinking of Kestrel's retelling of the elves telling them that Charlis was bad, Rolend was competent bit. Only because I don't feel like that's as notable to Kestrel himself. Kestrel does, at this point, remember how his dad treated him. The fact that Charlis was just as much a dick to the kingdom itself is notable, but probably not surprising.
But it's at least a fairly breezy recap.
I like this though. Kestrel reflecting on his uncle's choices:
Intellectually—well, I could understand that. Kestrel stood for a moment to ease his cramping shoulders, then went back to his work. And now that I've met with Uncle—all I can say is, I'm glad things worked out this way. The trouble with Uncle Rolend is that he is very good at convincing himself that he is doing something for the best possible reason. 'It's awfully easy for someone like that to think that the end justifies the means.
It's not important because it's new information. I just described Rolend like that a few paragraphs ago. But I do think this part gives us a nice little insight in Kestrel.
1. He's able to sympathize with his uncle's plight, even though his uncle's actions caused him a lot of pain and difficulty.
2. He's not naive or romantic about it though. He's got a clear-headed idea of his uncle's flaws. And how they could end up being an issue in the future.
I do think Kestrel may not be giving himself enough credit when he says he'd be a bad king. He's young, adaptable, willing to listen to counsel, but not blind to its faults. He'd probably do as well as anyone. Though he's probably right when he says Rune would make a better king. Rune would make an awesome king.
So we get to the end of the recap. Kestrel recalling his very public abdication and the way he "seals" his "unsuitability" through a marriage proposal. And really, it's a good thing Gwyna's practical, because while I don't doubt that he loves her and wants to marry her, the fact that part of his reason IS to be unsuitable to rule is a bit...
Well, not exactly romantic. But fortunately Lackey tends toward a level of pragmatism in her heroes and heroines. (We're not quite in that stage where she outright attacks romantic fantasy ideals yet. But the seeds are there.)
But yeah. A King can't wed a commoner - his vassals wouldn't allow it. And a nobleman can't wed a [Rom]. So there you go. Freedom! And well, enough of a tie to the throne to get a very nice gift of a wagon.
Also, with Talaysen and Rune as court bards, they can probably keep Rolend calm and easy going enough not to freak out about his nephew. With magic, if necessary.
Meanwhile, Kestrel's pretty happy. He's got wanderlust and is looking forward to traveling places and seeing cool things.
I am far more likely to thank my uncle than hold a grudge against him. This time he didn't bother to hold back the grin. He is stuck on that stupid block of a throne for the rest of his life, and he will never move more than twenty leagues from his own castle. He will never see the Mintaks and their step-pyramids, the canal-streets of the Loo'oo'alains, the walled fortress-city of the Deliambrens! Why, he probably won't even go under the Elven Hills with the Elves in his own little kingdom!
Our boy has ambitions. And well, the wagon is pretty luxurious as it is.
We finally break from the recap for some character interaction:
"What are you grinning about?"
Robin came around the side of the wagon, and scraped a draggle of wet hair out of her eyes as she spoke. Jonny seized her wrist and pulled her over to him, giving her a muddy hug and a passionate kiss, both of which she returned with such interest that he began to think he might steam himself dry in her arms. He let go with reluctance.
"I'm g-g-grinning at th-this!" he said, waving his hand at the wagon, the horses, themselves. "I m-m-mean, think ab-b-bout it! We may be s-s-stuck, but we c-c-can just unhitch th-th-the horses and g-g-get inside if w-w-we want! Th-th-there's nothing s-s-stopping us, if w-w-we d-decide to g-g-give up for a little. It's ours. Y-y-you s-s-see?"
...and now we get to the downside of the book.
Lackey insists on writing the stutter. All the fucking time. Every bit of dialogue. It's egregious. We get it.
That said, I suppose the one thing I do appreciate is that the aggravation of reading the phonetic stutter does reinforce the idea that, in a setting like this, a stutter is pretty debilitating. There aren't any speech therapists here, after all. And a stutter often comes complete with assumptions about someone's mental state. (That can still be an issue in our society today, after all.)
But it's still pretty fucking annoying. And oddly-but-interestingly jarring when nestled in the midst of Kestrel's viewpoint narration.
Both Robin and Kestrel have moments of being the point of view character in the book, but I feel like I remember him having a bit more of it than she does. It makes some sense, I think, as it's easier to get his characterization across in a way that minimizes some of the need to speak out loud.
Anyway, Kestrel's good cheer is contagious:
She nodded, finally, and a ghost of a smile appeared as her frown of worry faded. "You know, you're right. We don't have to be anywhere. We've got anything a [Rom] could ever want, we can get out of the wet if we get tired of trying to fish this thing out of the mud, and the horses will survive a soaking."
He nodded vigorously. "You s-s-see? We aren't even b-b-blocking the r-r-road! W-w-we can w-w-wait unt-t-til someone c-c-comes along who c-c-can give us a h-h-hand! And if anything is b-b-broken, w-we have the m-money to f-f-fix it! Th-th-that's m-m-more than I've ever been able to say b-b-before!" He lowered his eyelids suggestively. "Th-th-there's lots of w-w-ways to get w-w-warm."
They're also pretty cute and flirty. The nice thing about a story where the main couple has already gotten together is you can skip the will-they/won't-they.
That said, Robin does want to at least TRY to get the wagon out before they go inside and bang. But she's now recalling that a year ago, she'd have been trying to keep warm and dry huddled under a rock overhang or even under a fallen log.
The chapter ends with this cute bit:
"Are you s-s-sorry you d-d-didn't get the K-K-King of R-B-Birnam after all?" he asked, ruefully. "You w-w-wouldn't be standing in the m-m-mud if you had."
But Robin only grinned, her good nature restored by the exertion. "Powers forfend!" she replied. "The King of Birnam would be fair useless getting this blasted wheel out of the mud! Let's try that notion of yours, of heaving up and trying to shore up the wheel while it's up."
It had been a faint hope more than an idea, but if Robin wanted to try it he was game.
"You d-d-do the c-c-counting," he said, with a self-deprecating laugh. "If I d-d-do, we'll b-b-be here all d-d-day!"
...
HOPEFULLY the cuteness will continue to mitigate the horrific phonetic dialogue. We'll see.
no subject
Date: 2024-03-11 01:57 pm (UTC)And heck, even hummingbirds are gutsy as all get out; they will literally dive-bomb bigger birds to protect their feeding grounds and nests, and give each other 'tude so often. (Source: I've seen the avian equivalent of a slap-fight at the porch feeder several times.)
Anyway, it's great you're reading this one! It really touches on Free Bard versatility and how they tend to wind up in interesting situations. If you don't mind my saying so, Robin's anger manifests as ranting, so we're all good and so's Jonny.
= Multi-Facets.
no subject
Date: 2024-03-11 04:56 pm (UTC)