i_read_what | The Robin and the Kestrel

A little late with this review, sorry. I've no excuse but laziness!

Last time, we learned a bit more about the current situation in the kingdom. Things have gotten more tense since the Lark and the Wren, and our characters are likely to be in the middle of it!

So we rejoin Kestrel, who's thinking about all the discussions from the day before. For her part, Gwyna's off doing laundry. It's a pretty cold day, and it isn't long before Harperus comes out. We see more interesting hints of Deliambren culture here:

He had his hands full of something, and offered Jonny a very odd object indeed; a thin pancake folded around a brightly colored filling. Strange-looking, but Kestrel already knew that Harperus' odd-looking food was very good, and he accepted his second breakfast of the day with alacrity. There had been too many days in the past that he had had no breakfast, no lunch, and no dinner. Old habits said, "Eat when you can," so he did.

It sounds like some kind of crepe or breakfast burrito. Now I'm hungry.

Anyway, Harperus is surprised they haven't left yet, but per Kestrel, there's still some pre-departure chores to do: laundry (hence Robin being gone), cleaning and restocking. They also haven't quite decided where they're going, though South is the likely option.

Kestrel thinks that Harperus knows more about the business with the Church than he'd said the night before. Harperus is non-committal and we get more belated description of his alien handsomeness:

Kestrel studied the odd, inhuman face. It was very handsome, the more so as he became accustomed to it; the swaths of silky hair only added to the attraction. There was no sign of aging at all; certainly no sign of the years Robin had claimed for the Deliambren. And there was no sign of any emotion that Kestrel recognized. Harperus' odd-colored eyes studied his, seeming more coppery this morning than yellow.

It's interesting to see how different characters observe and describe each other in the narrative. I once commented that Rune almost came across as bi to me, even with a preference toward women, given that she'd given much more involved descriptions of the ladies she encountered than the men. (And the whole not really noticing Talaysen's hotness until after meeting his hot lady cousin.) Gwyna doesn't seem to have the same quality.

Kestrel might, though. At least he seems to here. We'll see if the trend continues.

Anyway, Kestrel asks, since Harperus has collected a lot of information, does he know how what the Church is doing can be justified?

Harperus points out that a characteristic of "organized religion" is that its actions don't need to be justified from the outside, just from within. This is true for non-human religions as well, and as long as it's done in the name of religion, an action serves the organizations.

It's a very modern idea but suits the Deliambren, as the keepers of the pre-apocalyptic knowledge. It also me curious about both non-human religions and the possibility of other human religions in the setting.

Kestrel doesn't understand, and Harperus admits he doesn't either. He's not religious, himself. Kestrel definitely seems like he gravitates toward more experienced mentor figures. I'd make a daddy-complex joke, but well...consider it made. He brings up how unconcerned most of the traders were, and Harperus agrees. The only humans concerned are the Free Bards and musicians, and even they're only really concerned about their livelihood.

No one's really paying too much attention to the sanctions against nonhumans, and that worries Harperus. Not just because he's non-human himself. His perspective is interesting enough to quote:

Harperus smiled thinly. "You pack many questions into a single word, youngster." He leaned back against the side of his vehicle. "I am not concerned for myself and my race, because there is no one in the Twenty Kingdoms who can effectively threaten us, my earner protestations notwithstanding. We can simply outlive human regimes. We have the capability of closing up the Fortress and outliving this current generation. We have done so before, and are always prepared to do so again. It is simply not our policy to boast of that ability."

His real concern though is that these issues seem to be designed to undermine a lot of social progress that's been made over the last few centuries. And fuck if that idea doesn't resonate stronger for me today than when I first read this book.

This is a tangent, but one of the weird aspects to doing this blog is realizing how today's circumstances make certain of these books resonate differently. Moreta, for example, hits a whole lot harder after COVID. The rise of Lysaer as a populist hero, and his influence on various sectors of society, feels a lot more familiar since we watched Donald Trump push his way into Presidency. The ability of religious fundamentalists to use the laws of society to regress progress and punish free thought and non-conformity...

Yeah.

I almost feel like I should have a trigger word for this feeling. Maybe if I had a word for it myself. What's the opposite of nostalgia?

Anyway, Harperus notes that the Roma aren't all that concerned: this issue is only happening in settled places, and figure if trouble spreads, they can drive away. The Free Bards are, as mentioned, concerned about their careers.

Kestrel interjects to plug the next book, noting that Nightingale isn't like the others. And Harperus agrees, Nightingale is uniquely concerned. (READHERBOOK!!!)

There's something a little uncomfortable about the use of Roma here. Because, while I appreciate that Lackey isn't making them a too-perfect society, well...

"True. Not the Nightingale. But she is unique among all the Free Bards and [Roma] I have spoken to." He shook his head. "None of them are at all thinking about what is happening to the nonhumans, because they think their own problems are much greater. I have not heard from the nonhumans themselves—and that alarms me. Are they being harassed? Are they being arrested and taken off into oblivion? Are they being deported? Or is there nothing happening at all? I have heard nothing, and when I hear nothing, I worry more than when I hear rumors. I only note that the few nonhuman traders I know have simply turned over their routes in Kayden to human partners. The human traders frankly see this in terms of less competition and more profit. The nonhumans are gone, and I cannot question them."

As an American, it's hard to remember sometimes, that "Gypsy" is a word that has enough context than just a fortune teller with flowy robes and dangly earrings. And maybe that's a factor in this. Ms. Lackey has likely done more research into Roma culture than I have, but I'm still uncomfortable with the idea that a people who still face oppression to this day, who were victims of the Holocaust themselves, would somehow be indifferent or blind to implications here.

The non-humans are targeted now. The Roma are going to be next. If I can see that, they should be able to see that too.

Kestrel is pretty shocked by the implication. He hadn't thought about the possibility that bad things were happening to the non-humans now. Harperus is reassuring a bit, he doesn't think it's happening yet. But he is worried that it might.

Harperus is contemplative. He's not sure why things have gotten so bad specifically right now. The Church is powerful and has been doing quite well without this nonsense. At least if the Church goal is "the saving of souls and directing people to act in a moral and responsible manner." He wonders if maybe the goal's changed.

Jonny wonders if maybe they should add the question of "who" to this "why".

Harperus is intrigued by the idea and intends to look into it. He ends up leaving pretty abruptly, but Jonny isn't offended. Harperus isn't human after all, and he takes it to mean that Harperus is taking his speculation seriously.

Kestrel has realized that he wants to look into this too. Which leads us into some interesting contemplation from Kestrel himself.

As he had told Harperus, there often was a who in the middle of something like this, and if you could find him and deal with him, before he had become so protected that it was impossible to get near him, you could actually do something. In fact, you could effectively stop the movement before it had gained its own momentum and had, not one, but many people devoted to Keeping it alive. It was like extracting the root of a noxious plant, before it spread so far and had sent up so many shoots it was impossible to eradicate.

He had learned a great deal about politics in the short time he had been in Birnam, watching the way the people opposed to his uncle's rule had operated. He had probably learned more man anyone else had ever guessed.

Ordinary people, he had noticed, tended to do what they were told, as long as they were given orders by someone who was a recognized authority. Or, as long as the orders did not affect their own lives very much, they would support the orders through simple inaction. If you made changes gradual, and made them seem reasonable, no one really cared about them.

There's something interestingly cold and calculating in this contemplation. And it makes me wonder if maybe a royal upbringing followed by years of solitary terror breeds a certain potential ruthlessness when push comes to shove.

Kestrel's thoughts continue along this vein a bit longer, but you get the gist. Kestrel thinks that maybe the Free Bards could be useful here. And maybe this is why the Free Bards have been getting targeted: they poke fun at authority, make strange into familiar. They can get people to think about things in a new way.

He thinks specifically about some of the songs that had been written: Linnet's "Pearls and Posies" or Wren's "Spell-Bound Captive" and how they challenge the idea of Gazners as "cold-blooded" or Elves being "soulless". And they can do this for people who may never leave their own village boundaries.

He decides to go talk to Nightingale and see where she intends to go after she leaves the Waymeet, if they go in the opposite direction, then they can see if they can get more information.

-

We skip to later. It's raining again. Both Robin and Kestrel are in their wagon. This time, Robin the's optimist, pointing out that the rain had waited for their laundry to dry. And Kestrel appreciates the hot bath - and implicitly more than that ahem - that they had been able to enjoy at the bathhouse.

Apparently, they're heading for Westhaven. That's an interesting choice.

Nightingale, for her part, will be going to Kingsford to investigate the potential cause of the Church activities, though afterwards, she does intend to go to Birnam. (She only agreed to that much because of T'fyrr, apparently, yes, Ms. Lackey, we'll read the next book eventually.)

Apparently, Robin wants to pop in to see Rune's mother, and give Rune an update about what is going on back home. She says she thinks Rune would feel less guilty over leaving if she knew her mother was okay. Jonny's a bit more skeptical about Rune's feelings, but admits that he's not a woman, and may not have been privy to confidences like that.

More significantly to Jonny is that there's a road from Westhaven to Gradford, a city that has a High Bishop in residence and may have more information about what the Church is doing. Even better, there's apparently an Abbey on that road, which might give him a place to start looking.

So...how is Westhaven?

"If I recall, the inn is on the other side of the village," Robin said. There wasn't much there, really; a few buildings around a square, although there did seem to be a farmer's market going on. This was the kind of village that Jonny Brede would have passed by, if he'd had the choice. There was no room for an outsider here, everyone knew everyone else. Still, though strangers might not be welcome, their coin was, and spending money usually brought some form of speech out of even the most taciturn of villagers.

Looks quiet.

Jonny suggests doing some shopping, as a means of finding out information without asking questions. Robin's on board, and they head to the square. We get more description!

The village square was centered around a well. No great surprise there, most small villages were. There were four buildings on three sides of the square, with two larger buildings, one clearly a small Church and the other a Guild Hall, on the fourth side. A joint Guild Hall from the look of it; there were boards with the signs for the Millers', the Joiners', the Smiths' and the Tanners' Guilds up above the door. No Bardic Guild harp, though, which was a relief.

The stalls had been set up along this side, and Kestrel followed Robin as she opened the back of the wagon, got a basket, and made her way directly towards them. It looked as if the rain that had plagued their travel so far had scarcely touched Westhaven; the dust of the street was damped down, but had not turned to mud, and beneath the dust, the street itself was packed dirt that must surely turn into a morass every time it rained heavily.

Now I remember why I like cities, Kestrel thought. Paved streets, and regular collection of refuse, were two very good reasons.

As strangers, they're pretty much the center of attention immediately. And it's not altogether friendly attention.

As we see here:

Instead, the thin, disagreeable-looking wench, who had a face like a hen with indigestion and hair the color and texture of old straw, completely ignored them. She began chattering away at her two cronies at such a high volume and rate of speech that it would have been impossible for anyone to "get her attention" without interrupting her forcibly and rudely.

But Kestrel knew that Robin had no intention of doing anything that would give the stallkeeper an excuse for further rudeness. And if the wench thought she was going to outmaneuver a [Roma]—

Instead, Robin silently surveyed the contents of the stall with a superior eye, counterfeiting perfectly the airs of a high-born nobleman. She raised one supercilious eyebrow, then sniffed as if she found the selection of baked goods vastly inferior to what she was expecting, and sailed on without a single word to any of the three.

Hah. Robin is quite good at provocation, isn't she?

When they hear another stall-keeper laugh, they decide to go there. She's selling eggs, bacon and sausage, which isn't really on their shopping list. But well, one makes due. And Robin makes a point of asking if there's a place they can get properly made, fresh bread.

The egg-seller is happy to point them to another friendly stall, where the lady bakes from a family recipe and with her own yeast. They continue shopping and Kestrel notes that he only sees women in the market today. He wonders if the harvest is late, or if it's sexism.

Kestrel's been in a lot of villages, as we've noted, but he thinks this place is weird. It's not exactly a prosperous village, so they should have been far more interested in the money that Robin was willing to spend. But they're not friendly or welcoming at all.

The bread lady actually does respond as they'd expect though - she's quite happy to sell to them and chat as she does. The conversation goes to the Kingsford Faire, which Mother Tolley (the stall-keeper) wishes she could see one day. Robin's of course been performing there since she was a child.

Then the tone changes a bit:

"All the world comes to Kingsford Faire." Mother Tolley repeated the old cliché as solemnly as if she had made it up on the spot. "Well, say, since you are so well-traveled, and a musician and all—" she hesitated a moment, then, with a sly glance at the other women, continued on "—there was someone I knew once who had a hankering to go to the Kingsford Faire. It was a local child, with so many dreams—well, there aren't too many folk who believe in dreams, especially not here. I don't suppose you've ever heard tell of a fiddler girl named Rune?"

Apparently this gets the attention of everyone. Even the hostile women. And Robin notices it too. She goes on the offensive.

"Rune? Lady Lark?" she said brightly. "Why, of course I have! Everyone in all of Rayden and Birnam knows all about Free Bard Rune! Why, she's the most famous Free Bard in two kingdoms except for Master Wren!"

So yeah, it's a bit of an exaggeration. And Robin doesn't stop there. She starts with truth...mostly, the Skull Hill Ghost song is famous now, the whole Elf adventure thing, and winning the heart of Bard Talaysen are all true, as we know.

Then, well...

"I was at the ceremony, myself," Robin rattled on, in a confidential tone, as if she was a name-dropping scatterbrain. "As one of Lady Lark—that's what we call her, Lady Lark—one of Lady Lark's personal friends, of course. My! Even a Duke's daughter would envy her! She has twelve servants, all her very own—three of them just to tend to her wardrobe!"

Kestrel elbowed her sharply; she'd already gone too far three lies ago. She ignored him.

"The King himself gave her so much gold and gems that she couldn't possibly spend it all, and the weight of her jewelry would drown her if she ever fell into a river wearing it!" Robin gave him a warning look when he moved to elbow her again. "She wears silk every day, and she has three carriages to ride, and she bathes in wine, they say—" Robin simpered. Kestrel did his best not to laugh at her expression, despite his unease. He hadn't known she could simper. She was a better actress than he'd thought. "Our wagon and the horses and all—that was her present to me. You know, she gave wagons and horses to all her [Roma] friends who came to the ceremony. So sweet of her, don't you think?"

I mentioned a few chapters back that there's an interesting element to their relationship. Both of them know the gist of what the other has been through, but they haven't really discussed the matters deeply. And it's significant because both of them have developed their own methods to cope and deal with their trauma.

And they're not entirely compatible methods.

Robin's method is defiance. And it makes sense. She's a woman and a Rom, in a world that tries to diminish and put both in their place. And that's not even getting into the incident with the Priest who literally put her in a cage. She reacts by going even more outlandish and over the top. She will not be ignored or made lesser.

And that's completely understandable.

Kestrel's method is to lay low, blend in, and hide. And that makes sense too. For a deposed prince, being noticed is VERY BAD. And even leaving that off the table, years spent as a scrounging refugee with no hope of support or protection probably bred in some very strong survival instincts. Few people are as friendly as Wren and company, after all.

Also completely understandable.

Normally, it's not an issue. Right here, right now, when Kestrel's on edge and Robin is making her spectacle...it might be an issue.

As we see after Kestrel kind of drags her away:

"What w-were you th-thinking of?" he hissed, as they followed the sausage-woman's stammered directions to the mill.

"I'm not sure," she said weakly. "I got kind of carried away."

He refrained from stating the obvious.

"It was just—those sanctimonious prigs! You saw how they wanted to hear that I had never heard of Rune, that she was a nothing and a failure! I wanted to smack their self-satisfied faces!"

"Y-you d-did that all r-right," he replied, a little grimly, as they arrived at the mill.

When they return to the wagon, everything's quiet and deserted. They put their thing away, when...

"Hey!" said a nasal, obnoxious male voice. "What kinda thieves do we have here?

The chapter ends here.