The Robin and the Kestrel - Chapter Six

[kalinara]

And I'm back and ready to catch up on everything I've let lapse. Today, we're resuming the Robin and the Kestrel.

Last time was quite fan-service-y as our heroes visited prior protagonist Rune's old haunts. But it might have ended on a bit of a cliffhanger...



So we resume right after that line about thieves. Kestrel is not terribly worried. The voice is too young to be any kind of town official. This is clearly a town troublemaker. And indeed:

He knew as soon as he turned that he had been right, for the young men wore no badges of authority. There were three of them, none of them any older than he. All three were heavily muscled, and two of them had teeth missing. All three were taller than Kestrel. He looked up at them, measuring them warily. Definitely bullies, else why have three against two?

These guys are immediately endearing as they call Kestrel a "Gyppo", which is a word that gave me trouble last time because it's basically a slur derived from what is already a slur. Oh well, I think it'll be obvious from context.

So basically these guys are pretty childishly malicious. They basically circle Kestrel and taunt him about how, as a Rom, he must have stolen something. They suggest the horses, as they're too good for a Rom. They sneer that the idea of him stealing it is far more likely than the tale "[his] slut" told about Rune giving it to them.

Charming.

Something about the bully's tone warned Kestrel that Robin's stories about Rune had brought them the trouble he feared. This fool had been no friend to Rune while she'd lived here—and he held a long-standing grudge against her, like the hen-faced woman.


"Yah," said the third, sniffing loudly and grinning. "We know all 'bout Rune! Her mam's a slut, she's a slut, an' I reckon her friends'r all sluts, too." He stared at Kestrel, waiting for an answer, and became angry when he didn't get one. "How 'bout it?" he growled. "Ain't ye gonna say nothin'?"

I noted this before, but Kestrel has a fairly interesting trait where he goes colder and more analytical than we'd expect. We see it here:

Kestrel had been watching them carefully, assessing them, and had concluded that while they were very likely strong, and probably the town bullies, they also didn't have a brain to share among them. They were slow, and moved with the clumsy ponderousness of a man used to getting his way through sheer bulk and not through skill. And the way they held themselves told him they were not used to having any real opposition. They wanted to goad him into anger, into rushing them like an enraged child. They would not be prepared for someone who struck back with agility and control.

Kestrel's not really inclined to fight though. He stares at them, they stare back, nonplussed that he's not reacting like he should. Then Robin makes a subtle motion to her knife, he stops her, and that breaks the stalemate.

Duelling coping mechanisms, again. Keep still or fight back. The taunts get darker.

Yah, Rune's a slut an' her friends'r sluts!" said the first one, loudly. "Right, Hill, Warren?" He grinned as the other two nodded. "Hey, boys, I gotta idea! We got our fill'a her—so how 'bout we get a taste'f her friend, eh? They say [Roma-but-derogatory] women is real hot—"

He grabs for Robin, which is a mistake. And they fight. I'm not sure what I think about this. On one hand, one thing I really liked about Lark and the Wren was that Rune was fairly realistic in her fighting ability. She got away by surprise. Talaysen never really fought either. He's never needed to. This bit seems a bit cartoonish, with Robin and Kestrel being able to fight off goons easy.

See:

Fighting off assassins for most of your life tends to make you a survivor; it also teaches you every dirty trick anyone ever invented. Kestrel turned into a whirlwind of fists and feet, and Robin was putting her own set of street-fighting skills into action. He hadn't wanted this to turn into a physical confrontation, but the bullies had forced it on him, and now they were going to find out that the odds of three large men against a tiny man and woman had been very uneven—but not in their favor.

I don't know about this. The assassins we saw after Jonny were not the fisticuff type. I'm pretty sure if Kestrel tangled with them, he'd be dead. He also was very clearly more in flight mode than fight in the first book. But I suppose it's plausible that Roland initially sent less competent assassins?

I don't really begrudge Robin's fighting ability, since it seems more plausible that as a member of a persecuted race, she likely was taught a lot of these methods.

On the other hand, they're fighting village bullies who likely never learned how to throw a real punch. So maybe I'm making too much of nothing. I don't really remember either of them getting into a free for all with a skilled opponent later on.

Anyway, we get some fun description and they take out the bullies. Then we see some differences in style. Robin's less coolly analytical and a little more sharply sadistic.

"Now," breathed Robin, as the bully's eyes bulged with fear and the edge of her blade made a thin, painful cut across his throat, "I think you owe us an apology. Don't you?"

And she continues here:

"Just a few things I want you to think about, before you make that apology," she said harshly. "You might have what you think is a clever idea, about claiming how we attacked you, after we drive off." She shook her head, as he broke out in a cold sweat. "That would be a very, very stupid idea. First of all, you'd end up looking like a fool. Why, look how small we are! We weigh less than you do, the two of us put together! Think how brave you'd look, saying that two tiny people attacked you and beat you up, and one of them a girl! You would wind up looking like a weakling as well as a fool, and everyone from here to Kingsford would be laughing at you. What's more, they'd say you can't be any kind of a man if you let a girl beat you up. They'd say you're fey. And they'd start beating you up, any time you left home."

The sick look in his eyes told Kestrel that her words had hit home, but she wasn't finished with him.

"There's another reason why that would be a very, very stupid idea," she continued. "We're [Roma]. Do you know just what that means?"

He shook his head, very slightly.

"That means that we have all kinds of ways to find out what you've been doing, even when we aren't around. It means we have even more ways of getting at you afterwards—and all of them will come when you aren't expecting them." Her eyes widened, and her voice took on a singing quality—

Warring coping mechanisms maybe. Robin's got some issues with people attempting to manhandle her after all. But using Bardic Magic, which she's clearly doing, definitely seems to violate those rules that Rune and Talaysen laid out.

But then, they're not here. And who said they get to police it anyway? It does occur to me suddenly that both Rune and Talaysen are white and somewhat protected in a way that Robin isn't.

She's definitely good at being scary though:

Robin's voice matched that music, turning her sing-song into a real spell, a spell meant to convince this fool that every word she said was nothing less than absolute truth. "We'll come in the night, when you're all alone—catch you on a path and send monsters to chase you until your heart bursts! We'll send invisible things, night-hags, and vampires to your bed, to sit on your chest and squeeze the breath from your lungs while you try to scream in pain and can't! We'll come at you from the full moon, and set a fire in your brain, until you run mad, howling like a dog!"

She continues on this vein, even using some flash powder of a kind to create a flame effect under his face. The bully wets himself in fear and apologizes for calling Robin and Rune sluts, and promises to not talk about them or any of this.

Kestrel is pretty unhappy with this:

"Wh-why d-did you d-d-d-do that?" he asked, as Robin arranged her skirts with a self-satisfied little smile.

"What?" she asked, as if he had astonished her by asking the question. "Why did I use the Bardic Magic? I wanted him to believe me! If I hadn't, he'd have gotten another dozen of his friends and come after us!"

"N-not using th-the B-Bardic M-Magic!" he scolded, guiding the mares around a tricky turn. "M-making th-them th-think w-we w-were evil m-m-mages! R-remember wh-what the Ch-church has b-b-been saying abb-bout m-mages?"

Ms. Lackey, it would be easier to appreciate this discussion if you didn't spell out the stutter phonetically. Because Kestrel has a point, he asks Robin what happens when the magic wears off and he tells a Priest.

Robin's indifferent. They won't be back. And they came out ahead: she has their belt pouches. Kestrel thinks this makes them no better than the bullies are. Robin disagrees: they're just the instrument of justice.

She's not wrong. But Kestrel maybe has a point here too:

"B-but—" He gave up. She would never admit she was wrong, even if he managed to convince her of it—and even if he did, she would only think he was worried about the possible consequences. That wasn't what made him so upset, but how could he make her understand that she had just acted in as immoral and irresponsible a manner as the Church claimed Free Bards were?

How could they honestly refute the claims of the street preachers when they actually did what the street preachers said they did? Even though they had been provoked—

Personally, in terms of ethics, I side more with Robin than with Kestrel here. There IS a difference between defending oneself, even aggressively, and what they're being accused of by the church. Kestrel's slippery slope argument doesn't really hold much water to me.

That said, I also think what Robin did was fucking stupid in a practical sense. And maybe illustrates what Harperus mentioned about the Free Bards in general. Because yeah, they'll be long gone by the time the magic wears off. But what happens to the next Free Bard, Roma, or non-human that enters this village? What if, next time, the bullies don't taunt first?

But I do like that these characters are able to have this disagreement. And I like that it's not completely resolved either. Robin and Kestrel love each other very much. There's no question about that, but they're two different people. And it's not a moral judgment against either of them when they do disagree either. It's a bit refreshing.

So they end up reaching the Hungry Bear Inn at nightfall. This is Rune's old haunt. How's it going?

Darkness had fallen by the time they reached the next building on the road. The Hungry Bear inn—distinguished as such by the sign over the door, a crudely painted caricature of an animal that could have been a bear—or a brown pig—or a tree-stump with teeth. The sign was much in need of paint. The inn was much in need of repair.

Even in the fading twilight and the feeble flame of a torch beside the door, that much was all too obvious. It was clean, superficially at least, but so shabby that Gwyna would have passed it by without a second thought if they were really looking for a night's work.

Not great.

How is Stara by the way:

She must be—certainly the lavish use of cosmetics, and the straw-blond hair, the low-cut blouse and the kilted-up skirt matched Rune s descriptions. But if this was Rune's mother—either Rune s memory was horribly at fault, or the woman had doubled, or even tripled her weight, since Rune had left!

Yay for fatphobia. Didn't miss this trait of 90s Mercedes Lackey. (It's not as prevalent in later books, thank goodness. And it's fair to note that her Valdemaran self-insert is described as short and overweight herself. But that won't be for a few years. So yeah, the slender young leads are going to be a bit dickish here.)

Stara introduces herself as the innkeeper's wife. So she finally did get what she wanted. There don't seem to be any helpers around. Either they can't afford it or no one would work for them. They note that Rune was probably right when she thought Stara would have turned her into an unpaid drudge.

Gwyna doesn't seem inclined to sympathize with Stara anymore than young Rune did. But I suppose it makes sense, as she'd have only heard about the woman through Rune's own adolescent recollection. Robin starts to introduce them as musicians, stating that they usually offer their services in return for room and meal, but thinks that she doesn't really trust the cleanliness of the place.

Geoff himself comes out, and he's the same wishy-washy twit he was before. Stara seems like she's on board with their offer, but...

"Uh—Stara—" the innkeeper said, timidly. "We don't know these people. We don't know anything about them. Remember what the Priest has been preaching? These people aren't wearing Guild colors. So many of these free musicians sing that licentious music, that music that makes people do sinful things—"

Stara started to wave him to silence, but it appeared that on this subject, at least, he would not be henpecked. He raised his chin and his voice stubbornly. "You know very well how sinful we were when that daughter of yours was playing her music here! And every night the tap room was full of people dancing, singing, taking no thought of their souls—"

"I know," Stara muttered resentfully, no doubt thinking how full the cashbox had been back then.

Church propaganda has gotten this far, unfortunately. Interesting that Stara doesn't seem on board with it. Rune hadn't described her mother as very intelligent, but I remember her being wrong about Jib. Maybe she's wrong about Stara too. Stara's unlikeable and mercenary, but she doesn't seem to think much of this church nonsense.

I wonder how Rose would have been. She was Geoff's first wife and Rune's first patron, after all. She supported Rune, but she was also very pious. Would she have fallen for the nonsense. I'm intrigued that I don't really know.

Anyway, Geoff's words echo Harperus's concern:

"Well, what if these people are the same kind?" he asked her, his voice rising with a touch of hysteria. "I'm sure the Sacrificed God has been punishing us for our sin of letting people like that play here while that daughter of yours was here. Worse than that, what if they're magicians? I don't think we should let anyone play here who hasn't been approved by the Church!"

Harperus' words rang at her out of memory. "How long before the signs say 'No one permitted without a Church license'?"

Robin doesn't really want to play here anyway, so she makes a graceful exit, with a rather lovely speech:

"I would not want to make anyone uncomfortable, much less give them the impression that they were sinning by simply listening to music," Robin said, smoothly. "I personally have never heard of any such nonsense as musicians who were magicians, but since your Priest evidently has, I will take his word that such things exist. And since obviously you don't want us, and no one can prove he isn't a mage, we'll just be on our way. We would never want to play where we were under suspicion, or where our music wasn't wanted. She raised her voice a little more, and pitched it to make certain that it carried. "We are really in no great need of lodging, as you can clearly see, so do not concern yourselves for us on that score."

When she returns to Kestrel, he merely says that it's interesting. They decide to camp and but their plans are interrupted by a walking dialect:

A stolid woman with a round, red face moved out of the shadows and into the uncertain light of the torch. "She wouldna tell ye, an' he would be just's pleased t'see a sinner come t'grief, but yon's the road over Skull Hill. There be a Ghost there, a murderin' Ghost. It's taken a priest in its time, no less, so it don't care a tot fer holiness. Yer safe enough by day, but by night, ain't nobbut safe on Skull Hill."

This is Annie Cook. Robin recognizes her from Rune's description and passes along Rune's greetings, and a more honest version of what actually happened. Basically, she's a Master Free Bard, married, in the service of the King of Birnam, and expecting her first child. Annie's happy to hear that, though she can't resist a misogynistic slam on Stara in the process (noting that she can't nothing without it "bein' through some man's bed". Sure, fine, but what other prospects does Stara actually have? And also, Geoff is pretty useless in his own right.)

They travel on by night for a while. Neither of them are impressed with Stara. Kestrel thinks she's nasty and petty. Robin thinks that she'd have left long before Rune did. The fatphobia is less than I vaguely remembered it being, actually. It's mostly just in a wisecrack, when Robin says that if Stara had a generous bone, it's long gone. Kestrel adds that it's sunk in fat.

Still not a fan. Also, the wisecrack doesn't really seem in character for him.

They continue on when Robin gets an idea. She wants to go up Skull Hill, like Rune did. They might be able to play for money, or a favor, like unmolested passage for Roma and Free Bards.

Kestrel, a little more superstitious in general, is initially reluctant. But he admits that the practical idea of passage is a good one. Apparently the Skull Hill Road is a much faster route to Gradford than the one Harperus is taking, and could shave days off a journey. It'd also make a good escape route in times of trouble.

Robin is more into the challenge. Kestrel's not really into the idea of people having died up there. But it's interesting to see them argue it.

She took a very deep breath and got a firm grip on her temper. He wasn't saying she was stupid—wasn't even implying it. "When have I ever done anything really reckless?" she asked him.

He looked as if he was about to say something—but thought better of it, and closed his mouth again. "G-go on," he said grimly. "I'm l-l-listening. If y-you have a r-r-real argument, b-b-besides c-curiosity, I w-want to h-hear it."

I still don't think the phonetic spelling is necessary. Anyway, Robin notes that she's known something about magic for a long time - not Bardic Magic, per se, but little things that Roma tend to take for granted (healing, animal charming), and she thinks the Ghost works on fear. That's how it kills - not directly, but through causing so much fear that they run mad and die of thirst, starve, or get killed by beasts.

Kestrel's not entirely reassured, but Robin thinks that if they're not afraid, it can't hurt them. Kestrel notes that he IS afraid. But she thinks that if Rune, mostly untrained, could do it, so could they. She appeals to his vanity as a musician. It works. Because, well, Bards.

The chapter ends with his acquiescence and a bit of a zing:

He shook his head. "All r-r-right," he replied. "Th-this m-makes m-more s-sense than wh-what you d-did back in W-Westhaven, anyw-w-way."

And as she led the horses up to the top of Skull Hill, she was left to wonder—

What in heaven's name did he mean by that?

Maybe you two should talk about it? Nah, I'm sure it won't make trouble later.