The Robin and the Kestrel - Chapter Two

[kalinara]

So last time, we were reintroduced to our lead characters and saw a recap of the last part of the first book. It wasn't too annoying, but I'm hoping that we move on to new events pretty soon.



Chapter Two gives us Gwyna as the viewpoint protagonist. She's much less cheerful about the storm and mud than her husband is. Understandably, it's pretty uncomfortable. She's also pretty horny for her husband, it's probably fair to note.

It was hard to stay cheerful when you were dripping wet, your hair was snarled and soaked, and there was mud everywhere the rain didn't wash it away. But there was Kestrel, laboring manfully beside her, for all his slight build, and he wasn't complaining. Poor thing, he wasn't much taller than she, nor much more muscled, though regular feeding had put a little more weight on him. He still inspired women to want to take him home and feed him pastries and milk.

And then feed him something else entirely, girl, she told herself, and grinned, in spite of the cold rain dripping down her back and the certain knowledge that at the moment she looked more like a drowned kitten than a seductress. Well, he was hers. The others would simply have to look and wish.

I did mention that one of the appeals to this book is that the lead characters are already together, I think. It's nice when stories get to move past the "will-they/won't-they" nonsense. That said, girl, you could just go inside and bang. You'd probably feel better and you could tackle the wagon issue when the weather lightens up?

We get even MORE of a description of Kestrel here:

Even soaking wet and muddied to his ears, he was a handsome piece, though he hadn't a clue that he was, bless his heart. Long, dark hair, as dark as a [Rom]'s, now plastered to his head, but luxuriant and wavy when it was dry, set off his thin, gentle face with its huge, innocent dark eyes and prominent cheekbones—definitely a face to set maidens' hearts a-flutter. And when you added in the promise in the sensual mouth and clever hands, well, it set the hearts of no-longer-maidens aflutter, too. And he looked fine, very fine, in the flamboyant colors and garments favored by the [Roma]. He did most of his "speaking," when he could, with eloquent gestures and with his eyes. Right now, they held a cheer that not even their dismal situation could quench. And relief that once again, she had affirmed that she would rather have Kestrel the Free Bard than all the Kings in the Twenty Kingdoms.

Okay girl, DAMN. Breathe a little!

It does remind me of how I'd wondered if Rune was bi. Since she gave a lot more detailed descriptions of the women in her life than the men. Gwyna does not have that problem.

Gwyna also thinks to herself that marrying a king would be overrated anyway. If he's a good king, he'll be too busy doing kingly shit to actually spend time with her. True that. The luxury might be nice right about now though.

That said, they DO have a pretty swanky wagon as a wedding gift. Apparently, King Uncle Rolend was smart about it too. He'd given the money to their friend, Raven, to actually outfit said wagon and buy the horses. That's pretty smart. The kings' men are good at what they do, but they know how to outfit royalty, not traveling performers.

And well, Gwyna's got some issues staying in one place too. And we get a tiny bit of recap for that part of TLATW when Gwyna had gotten turned into a bird by an evil priest.

Kestrel did not know about that, beyond the bare bones, that a renegade Priest-mage had turned her into a bird and caged her. He did not know how she had refused the Priest's demand she be his mistress, and that he had not only turned her into a bird, he had turned her into a bird too heavy to fly! He'd put her in a cage just barely large enough to hold her, and had displayed her by day for all the Kingsford Faire to see as his possession, and by night to the guests at his dinners.

One thing I've noticed about both recaps is that there are aspects of their past and trauma that neither character really shares with one another. I feel like that's probably realistic and an interesting point of tension. Because their trauma does influence their behavior. And I do vaguely remember it coming up in a few places.

Especially as their trauma reactions are, in many ways, the reverse of each other. Kestrel was alone for most of his early adult life, scrounging for food, hiding from assassins and bullies who'd pick on the vulnerable. His instinct is thus toward restraint: lay low, avoid notice, be quiet until they hopefully go away.

Gwyna, on the other hand, has both the big trauma of having been enslaved/caged for refusing a powerful man, as well as all the other trauma that comes with being a Rom and a woman in this setting. Her instinct is to act out, to fight and demand her place and respect.

Neither one is wrong. But there's definitely a lot of potential for a clash here.

Their new attempt to get the wagon out fails. Kestrel's visibly exhausted. There's a lot of talking up the husband in this chapter, as Gwyna muses about their dynamic:

Kestrel, on the other hand, was naive enough about women to take what she said at face value—and bright enough not to do something stupid just for the sake of impressing her.


And I am just contrary enough to say precisely what I mean, so all is well. She had to shake her head at herself as she admitted that. I would not have him change for the world and all that is in it. I am no easy creature to live with. He would not change me, either. So he says, and so I believe.

It does occur to me that this is probably the reverse of Rune. Rune, as we were told, isn't really like the other girls. Kestrel isn't like the other boys.

For whatever reason, he was one of the few men she knew, Free Bards and [Roma] included, who simply assumed that she was his partner—his equal in most things, his superior in some, his inferior in others. She had met a few men who were willing to accept her as a partner, but Kestrel was only one of three who simply assumed the status, and the other two were Raven and Peregrine. There was a difference, subtle, but very real to her, between that acceptance and assumption. It was a distinction that made a world of difference to her.

1) Raven's getting talked up a lot, I notice. It reminds me of Keely in Pride of Princes. His book is fourth, rather than third in line as I recall. But I'm open to reviewing the rest of the series. I never actually read the third. (Eagle and the Nightingale.)

2) Kestrel falls into a funny category of male character. I didn't excerpt the bit right before this paragraph where Gwyna theorizes that his egalitarianism comes from his upbringing. He was too isolated as a child to get brainwashed by societal norms, and then he was too busy trying eat and run for his life to learn the way the world works.

It reminds me a bit of Jack Fleming in P. N. Elrod's Vampire Files: specifically how Jack kind of handwaves the fact that he lacks most of the period specific prejudices (sexism and racism, presumably homophobia though the opportunity to show that won't pop up for a few books) because his family was too busy trying to work the farm and put food on the table.

It's a fantasy of course, and one I've only ever seen used by female authors for male characters. But well, I'm sure we can all think of impossible fantasies about women that pop up in works by male authors. It's fair either way. The idea of an attractive man who respects women (and people of color) without having to be taught, without needing to unlearn a lot of bad behaviors...it is really nice to imagine.

3) It's also interesting that Talaysen doesn't make this list. Realistic though. Talaysen is a good guy, but he's got his privileges and assumptions. He's white. He came from money. He came from the GUILD. There's a lot of subconscious things that he'd have to unlearn.

And well, he probably shouldn't have the same assumption of equality that Kestrel, Raven and Peregrine do, because his relationship isn't equal. Rune is a Bardic Genius, sure, but she's half his age. She has no connections or power. She's new to the group he leads. He's been honing his craft for longer than she's been alive. There is no measure by which they're an equal partnership. At least not yet. Not for a very long time.

And that's okay. They know what they're getting into. But it does mean that Talaysen has to be aware of this inequity all the time. He could destroy her life very easily without ever consciously meaning to.

It does however highlight a nice difference between Rune and Gwyna. Because Gwyna would never be able to accept a relationship with that kind of power differential, no matter how much she loves and respects Talaysen as a person.

It all makes sense, but I appreciate it anyway. Especially compared to certain others, who absolutely have to have their paragons of virtue recognized as paragons of virtue even when it doesn't make sense.

So anyway, Gwyna really likes having a partner that trusts her knowledge and doesn't require her to prove her ability or expertise. Unfortunately though, neither of them have much expertise when it comes to wagons. They're also not very large or strong.

Gwyna is starting to see the bright side here at least:

In a peculiar way, even standing in the pouring rain, wet and miserable, cold and besmeared with muck, was a wonderful and rare experience. It proved something to her that she had hoped for all along; that she was his friend, companion, the person he trusted, as well as his lover. She could count the number of couples who could say that on one hand, and have fingers left over.

Aw.

But...

Her good temper finally broke under the strain. She clenched fists and jaw, and glared at the wagon, the pothole, the mud that now reached halfway to the wheel-hub. "Damn," she swore under her breath, as she backed off and stared at the cursed thing. "Stupid, stubborn, blasted, demon-possessed pile of junk!" It was pretty obvious that there was nothing they were able to do alone that was going to free the wheels. They were not going to get it out, and everything they did now that it was obvious was a wasted effort.

There's still some negatives about the situation.

Finally, they decide that they have to give up: time to get the horses undercover and go inside and dry off. And of course that is when the rain decides to get even worse. Heh.

So the horses are settled under a low tree (not an oak) and wrapped in wool blankets. They put some canopy in the branches above and give the animals some food. Then they go into the wagon.

There's a stove in the wagon, but it takes a while to warm. Interestingly, where the narrative called Gwyna by her first name for the first part of the chapter, it switches to "Robin" here. Even weirder, Kestrel is now "Jonny".

This is what comes of having two names for each protagonist, I suppose. But it is an interesting switch.

Anyway Robin/Gwyna is pretty cold and miserable, thinking about how if she were traveling afoot, she'd never have ended up in this situation. She'd be beside a warm fire at an inn right now.

Robin's pretty practical though and as soon as she thinks that, her brain corrects her by pointing out that she might well have been caught outside instead. Or been too far away from an inn. Even at an inn, the fire might not be warm. She might not be sitting beside it (as that's usually for paying customers). And she'd been in plenty of inns that were leaky, cold, and have no shutters...

But sometimes there were lovely warm fires in quality inns. And they're really fucking cold right now.

But that's when someone calls out, asking if they need help!

They go out to look, and they see another, much bigger wagon alongside theirs. And it looks SWANKY.

Another vehicle had pulled up on the road beside them, a wagon much, much larger than theirs. So large, in fact, that it probably had to keep to the major roads entirely, for the minor ones would not be wide enough for it. As it was, there was just barely room for a farm-cart to pass alongside of it. Anything larger would have to go off to the side of the road and wait.


It had tall sides, as tall as a house, and rather than wood, it was made of gray, matte-finished metal. It had glass windows, real glass, covered on the inside by shutters. Below the windows were hatches, perhaps leading to storage boxes. It was drawn by four huge horses, the like of which Robin had only seen when the Sires held one of their silly tournaments and encased themselves in metal shells to bash each other senseless.

As if they weren't already senseless to begin with.

The huge beasts stood with heads patiently bowed to the wind and weather, rich red coats turned to a dull brown by the rain, white socks splattered with mud, "feathers" matted. They were beautiful beasts, but she did not envy their driver, for they would eat hugely and be horribly expensive to keep. That was why only the Sires could afford such beasts, although their great strength would be very useful to any farmer. Then again, anyone who could afford a rig like this would have no trouble affording the feed for these four huge horses.


Their little [Roma] caravan would easily fit inside this colossus, with room for two or three more.

It occurs to me that Gwyna's propensity for description might be a demonstration of her being the more word-oriented of the two of them.

Anyway, the driver is someone that she recognizes. A man...of sorts...called "Old Owl."

We somewhat abruptly switch to Kestrel's POV here.

He looked quite owl like, although he was more human than a Mintak or a Gazner—but much less so than an Elf. While Kestrel stared, the driver grinned down at them both, perfectly protected from the rain by the roof over the driver's box. Kestrel simply gaped at him, unashamed, since he didn't seem to mind.

So yep, this guy is an old friend of Robin, and the Roma/Free Bards. We get more description of his cool non-humanness here.

Kestrel blinked. "Old Owl"—whoever and whatever he was, had been one of the oddest attractive creatures he had ever seen. His face and body—what Kestrel had seen of the body, anyway—had been fairly human. But that was where the similarity ended. He had long, flowing, pale hair growing along his cheekbones, giving his face the masklike appearance of an ancient owl. These were not whiskers or a beard; this was hair, as fine and silky as the shoulder-length hair on his head, and it blended into that hair on either side of his face. To complete the image of an owl-mask, his eyebrows were enormous, as long as Kestrel's thumb, and wing-shaped.

The hair on his head had been cut in some way that made parts of it stand straight up, while parts of it lay flat, all of it forming a fountain like shape. It gave the man's head a fantastical appearance, and his clothing—

Well, what Kestrel had seen of it, left him dazzled and astonished, and quite, quite speechless. It had certainly rivaled anything he'd seen on any [Rom]; not only was it brightly and brilliantly colored and cut in fantastic folds and draperies with flowing sleeves and a cape like arrangement at the shoulders, but parts of it gleamed with a distinctly metallic sheen, and some had the look of water, and still other parts were as iridescent as an insect wing.

Robin fills Kestrel and us in. This is "Lord" Harperus. He's a "Deliambren". Very rich, hence the title. He's an honorary Free Bard, because he helps them out a lot.

Kestrel does know what a Deliambren is:

A Deliambren! Kestrel blinked, and his interest sharpened considerably. The Deliambrens were top of the list of beings Kestrel had always wanted to see. They were reputed to be wizardry mechanics, building clockwork creations that could do almost any task. You found their constructions in the homes of the wealthiest of the Barons and Dukes, and the palaces of Kings. Very few Sires could afford the handiwork of Deliambrens, and very few merchants, even Guild Masters. Those who could afford them boasted about it.

The Deliambrens knew how to make magical lights that illuminated without creating heat or needing any oil to fuel them. They created boxes that produced music, melody after melody, fifty tunes or more without repetition, boxes no bigger than a wine cask. It was even said they could build wagons that did not need horses to pull them, and conveyances that could fly!

They lived, so Kestrel had been told by his tutor, in a place called "Bendjin." It was a "Free Republic," whatever the hell that was; there were no Kings, Sires, Dukes, or anything else there, he'd been told. How they were governed, he had no notion; it sounded completely chaotic to him.

There are more than a few Deliambren around, but Harperus seems to have a special relationship with the Bards. He's also very old, at least a hundred, maybe two.

Robin, by the way, has actually visited their city. It was when she was small: her Clan had been invited to entertain. Even now, only Free Bards and Roma tend to get invites in, as the Deliambren trust them not to try to steal their shit.

She tells us what it was like:

Robin took her end of the chains and fastened them carefully to the loops built into the frame of the wagon before she answered. "I wasn't very old, but it was rather amazing, even to a child. It was quite dazzling, that's all I can tell you," she said reminiscently, as he copied her movements with the chains on his side. "Lights; that's what I mostly remember. Lights everywhere. Not candles or lamps or anything of that sort. They have lights outside that glow when darkness falls, and little light-globes inside that light up and grow dark again at the touch of a finger. All the colors of lights that you can possibly imagine. They do have wagons that move by themselves, without horses. And they have boat-shaped things that fly. I only saw the little ones; Old Owl told me there were bigger ones that they use for their special trading missions outside Bendjin, and some even bigger ones that they only use once in a while, because they kind of break down a lot."

It sounds pretty awesome. She can't go into too much more detail, as she was little. But she remembers seeing flamboyant pet birds that talked. She'd wanted one, but they'd die from the cold. Kestrel impulsively promises he'll find her one that won't. It's very sweet.

When Harperus comes back, he's delighted to hear that Robin's gotten married. There's some cute banter all around, and Harperus makes conversation with Kestrel as he does something with the wagon that none of our viewpoint characters understand.

Kestrel, of course, is pretty hesitant to talk.

But then Harperus cocked his head just enough so that he could look out and Kestrel could see one intelligent eye peering up at him. The color of that eye was odd—not quite brown, not quite yellow. A metallic gold, perhaps, with the soft patina of very old metal. "Take it slowly, lad, and take your time in answering. I'm in no great hurry, and you mustn't be ashamed if you have a trifle of trouble speaking. Plenty of intelligent people do; it is often because they are so intelligent that their thoughts run far ahead of their mouths. Simply work with one word at a time, as if you were composing a lyric aloud."

Aw. The advice does help. But he does have Gwyna (name switch! I'll figure out the pattern eventually) take over storytelling. Happily, we skip the recap.

Harperus is into it though. He wants to make a record of it. Robin laughs at his "datas" ("data", he corrects mildly). And we get some interesting notes about Deliambren here: they like collecting the data so they can collect, analyze it and sell it. Basically, anyone who wants the REAL version can pay the Deliambren and know they're getting reliable information.

Robin pointedly reminds him not to sell their identities and locations. Especially Jonny's. Harperus says that he knows better than that, and the moment of tension passes.

So anyway: the bad news is that the axle's cracked. They'll have to get to a cartwright to fix it, but happily Harperus can help move the wagon.

The chapter ends with some cute wordplay:

He brightened. "Ah! Well, then in that case, there is no true problem. I can get you out without further damage, and I can tow your wagon without breaking the axle."

Kestrel gaped at him. "How?" he gasped.

Harperus laughed. "Watch!" he said. "And see! Am I not a Deliambren? There will be wonders! Or at least"—he amended, with a sheepish smile—"there will be winches."