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i_read_what2024-05-21 10:55 pm
kalinara) wrote in i_read_what2024-05-21 10:55 pm
Daughter of the Lion - Chapter Five
Sorry for the delay on this one. Things got a bit hectic over the weekend and beyond.
Last time, Keely had a confrontation with her cousin and ran afoul of a trap. Cliffhanger, woo!
So we start the chapter immediately after Keely falls from her horse. She's still conscious and being lifted to her feet by three men. Interestingly, they don't seem to be a'saii.
Three men, dirty of teeth, hair, habits. And patently astonished by what their trap had caught. But not so surprised as to loosen their grasp of my arms.
Inwardly, I swore; outwardly, I coughed. Gods, but my throat hurt!
The men were thieves, plainly, and plainly intending to ply their trade by cutting my coin-pouch free of my belt. Except there was none. I had left it in my chambers prior to weapons practice, and had exited Homana-Mujhar too quickly to retrieve it.
The leader of the three, is gray haired, pock-marked and about Keely's size. Another is a foul smelling guy, younger than Keely herself. The third gets no real description, but smells better than the other two. He's the one who thinks they have "no call to rob a woman."
Unfortunately, the leader disagrees. He thinks she's worth coin...or better yet...
Yeah, that's not good. Keely picks up on the implication pretty quickly, but fortunately, the two younger men are hesitant, which gives her an advantage:
I was half blinded by pain, in head and neck and throat. But I have never been one to let physical, discomfort have its way until there is time for it; at the moment there was not. And so I swayed against the two men who held me, feigning weakness, and felt their instinctive attempt to right me. Smoothly I altered stance and balance—rolling hips, bunching thigh and buttock muscle—and cow-kicked out with my right foot toward the man who stood so invitingly flat-footed before me.
One thing I like here is that Keely doesn't try for a prolonged fight. She runs for it instead. Unfortunately, she's in too much pain to concentrate on shapeshifting. And she's not in great condition: her throat, particularly, is very painful. She notes that she's lucky she didn't break her neck.
There's also a random note about her hunter's cap coming off when she runs, causing her her to tumble down and snag with branches and brambles. Because, of course, this warrior-obsessed woman, who has no interest in finery and luxury OR courtship, has very long hair.
She IS a princess to be fair. But you'd think she'd know of a way to secure her hair better than just a hat.
Keely keeps running until she crashes into a campsite. These are NOT the bandits, clearly. One has a sword in his hand and she thinks they have the look of king's men. She asks for the sword.
It's an establishing character beat, but it's not very practical. Keely's still a novice with the sword. She's been getting training from her father's captain, and she seems talented, but why not just explain to these men that she's being chased.
And indeed, her pursuers arrive pretty quickly after - only to stop short at the sight of these men.
I'm not sure what I think of the leader, by the way. Look at this:
The red-bearded man strode forward, nearly knocking me aside as he brushed a shoulder purposely. "Have ye business?" he asked of the thieves. "Or have ye come for the fun?" He made a sweeping gesture of his left arm as if to invite them in. At the end of it his hand touched me on the chest and pushed me back a step. "A bonny lass, aye, but she'll be serving us first. You'll have to wait your turn." He eyed them assessively. "Unless, of course, you'd sooner play the part of the maid yourself . . . we've just arrived from Erinn and we're not particular whom we rape. 'Tis been a long journey."
The fuck?
So the bandits run off. Keely, rather understandably, starts to run in another direction, when:
Two steps only; he caught me by the hair. "Lass, lass, don't go ... don't you know the sound of a lie?"
I sliced his wrist with my knife. "I know the sound of a threat—let me go, ku'reshtin!"
He did so, with alacrity. I saw shock in long-lashed eyes. "Lass—"
Maybe if you didn't grab her by the HAIR, you fucker.
Six books in, I've read enough Roberson to recognize her idea of a meet cute. This guy is love interest material. And I really don't know what to make of him here.
Anyway, he knocks her knife away and asks her to listen. She tries to shapeshift, and:
Tried to summon the magic . . . the Erinnishman clamped a hand on my right arm and the pain of it nearly sent me out of my senses. I bit into my lip to beat off the swoon and inwardly cursed my weakness.
He's not Duncan. And fucked up threat aside, he's not a rapist. He's clearly meant to come across as calm, stern, and concerned for her. But I do not like this physical aspect. He is HURTING HER.
He does, finally, let her go and back off. Though he suggests she won't get more than a step or two. She starts to make the standard Cheysuli boast ("Who says I will walk?") but she's in too much pain to manage. Great.
But now, belatedly, we get a description of this guy:
Dizzily, I looked up at him. He was a huge man, larger even than my father. Blond of hair, red of beard, warmly brown of eyes. He put out a hand and touched me, clasping my left shoulder, and turned me toward the fire. "Lass," he said gently, "you're safe with us, I promise. Any woman who speaks gutter Erinnish as fluently as you deserves nothing but our respect; that, and our liquor. Will ye share a cup with us?"
I'm interested in the genetics of blond hair and a red beard. I know it's possible for people to have different colored hair on different parts of their body. But I can't quite picture it.
Keely can't really protest. He sits her down on a stump of wood, gets her a drink, and has everyone toast her as a bonny lass, "though she be foul of tongue and appearance."
Okay, he might be growing on me.
Keely gets angry at this, but he insists that it's a compliment, after all, are they much better?
She asks what they're doing there, and everyone gets awfully taciturn. She asks if they're king's men, or if they come "from Sean".
This gets a reaction:
It shocked them, each and every one, even the red-bearded man, who stared hard at me with a burning in his eyes, a fierce bright light that competed with the fire, with the glint of the sword in his hands. He did not hold a cup. He did not drink to me.
"From Sean," he echoed.
With meticulous effort, I rose. This time I remained standing. "Aye," I said clearly. "From Sean, Prince of Erinn. Liam's only son. Aileen's only brother. Do you know the man I mean?"
Of course, as Erinnishmen, they know who Sean is. And it's pretty clear they feel SOMETHING about the guy, though good or bad remains to be seen, I guess. That said, Keely never considers that their shock might simply be at seeing a commoner girl refer to a prince, even a foreign one, in such a casual way.
He asks who she is. Keely is smart enough to realize that it's a bad idea to tell strange men that she's the wayward princess of Homana. She claims to be the daughter of Griffon, the arms-master. She gives her own name, claiming that she was named for the Mujhar's daughter.
That actually is pretty clever. Points to Keely, for having figured out a way that she doesn't have to answer to a false name.
They get her to drink a little more, and she presses the question: are they from Sean? The redbearded dude says yes - but not how she's thinking.
She asks what that means, and this is maybe interesting:
"I can see it in your eyes, lass . . . and if you're of the castle, you'd know the girl you're named for. Likely you'd know how she'd feel."
It took me a moment to untangle his references. "If you mean the princess royal, aye—we have met. But as to how she would feel—?"
"If she knew why we were here."
I shrugged a single shoulder; the other was too painful. "She would think you sent from Sean to fetch her to her wedding."
"And would it be pleasing to her?"
I nearly laughed. "Probably not." Then modulated my tone. "She is a stubborn girl, the lady . . . she wants no part of Sean."
As usual, it annoys me to not have names for characters that are clearly important. We're going to learn his name next chapter, but I'm going to cheat and reveal it now, it's Rory.
Anyway, Rory confirms that they've heard the same. Which is really kind of embarrassing, when you think about it.
But no, he has another reason to be here:
"You have heard—" I stopped. "He did send you, then!"
"Not in the way you're thinking." His voice was very steady. "I am not here as the prince's proxy . . . I am here as his murderer."
New cliffhanger. The chapter ends here. And I'm happy to say that Keely is much more tolerable as an action girl than when she's badmouthing her siblings. (Especially poor Maeve.)
Last time, Keely had a confrontation with her cousin and ran afoul of a trap. Cliffhanger, woo!
So we start the chapter immediately after Keely falls from her horse. She's still conscious and being lifted to her feet by three men. Interestingly, they don't seem to be a'saii.
Three men, dirty of teeth, hair, habits. And patently astonished by what their trap had caught. But not so surprised as to loosen their grasp of my arms.
Inwardly, I swore; outwardly, I coughed. Gods, but my throat hurt!
The men were thieves, plainly, and plainly intending to ply their trade by cutting my coin-pouch free of my belt. Except there was none. I had left it in my chambers prior to weapons practice, and had exited Homana-Mujhar too quickly to retrieve it.
The leader of the three, is gray haired, pock-marked and about Keely's size. Another is a foul smelling guy, younger than Keely herself. The third gets no real description, but smells better than the other two. He's the one who thinks they have "no call to rob a woman."
Unfortunately, the leader disagrees. He thinks she's worth coin...or better yet...
Yeah, that's not good. Keely picks up on the implication pretty quickly, but fortunately, the two younger men are hesitant, which gives her an advantage:
I was half blinded by pain, in head and neck and throat. But I have never been one to let physical, discomfort have its way until there is time for it; at the moment there was not. And so I swayed against the two men who held me, feigning weakness, and felt their instinctive attempt to right me. Smoothly I altered stance and balance—rolling hips, bunching thigh and buttock muscle—and cow-kicked out with my right foot toward the man who stood so invitingly flat-footed before me.
One thing I like here is that Keely doesn't try for a prolonged fight. She runs for it instead. Unfortunately, she's in too much pain to concentrate on shapeshifting. And she's not in great condition: her throat, particularly, is very painful. She notes that she's lucky she didn't break her neck.
There's also a random note about her hunter's cap coming off when she runs, causing her her to tumble down and snag with branches and brambles. Because, of course, this warrior-obsessed woman, who has no interest in finery and luxury OR courtship, has very long hair.
She IS a princess to be fair. But you'd think she'd know of a way to secure her hair better than just a hat.
Keely keeps running until she crashes into a campsite. These are NOT the bandits, clearly. One has a sword in his hand and she thinks they have the look of king's men. She asks for the sword.
It's an establishing character beat, but it's not very practical. Keely's still a novice with the sword. She's been getting training from her father's captain, and she seems talented, but why not just explain to these men that she's being chased.
And indeed, her pursuers arrive pretty quickly after - only to stop short at the sight of these men.
I'm not sure what I think of the leader, by the way. Look at this:
The red-bearded man strode forward, nearly knocking me aside as he brushed a shoulder purposely. "Have ye business?" he asked of the thieves. "Or have ye come for the fun?" He made a sweeping gesture of his left arm as if to invite them in. At the end of it his hand touched me on the chest and pushed me back a step. "A bonny lass, aye, but she'll be serving us first. You'll have to wait your turn." He eyed them assessively. "Unless, of course, you'd sooner play the part of the maid yourself . . . we've just arrived from Erinn and we're not particular whom we rape. 'Tis been a long journey."
The fuck?
So the bandits run off. Keely, rather understandably, starts to run in another direction, when:
Two steps only; he caught me by the hair. "Lass, lass, don't go ... don't you know the sound of a lie?"
I sliced his wrist with my knife. "I know the sound of a threat—let me go, ku'reshtin!"
He did so, with alacrity. I saw shock in long-lashed eyes. "Lass—"
Maybe if you didn't grab her by the HAIR, you fucker.
Six books in, I've read enough Roberson to recognize her idea of a meet cute. This guy is love interest material. And I really don't know what to make of him here.
Anyway, he knocks her knife away and asks her to listen. She tries to shapeshift, and:
Tried to summon the magic . . . the Erinnishman clamped a hand on my right arm and the pain of it nearly sent me out of my senses. I bit into my lip to beat off the swoon and inwardly cursed my weakness.
He's not Duncan. And fucked up threat aside, he's not a rapist. He's clearly meant to come across as calm, stern, and concerned for her. But I do not like this physical aspect. He is HURTING HER.
He does, finally, let her go and back off. Though he suggests she won't get more than a step or two. She starts to make the standard Cheysuli boast ("Who says I will walk?") but she's in too much pain to manage. Great.
But now, belatedly, we get a description of this guy:
Dizzily, I looked up at him. He was a huge man, larger even than my father. Blond of hair, red of beard, warmly brown of eyes. He put out a hand and touched me, clasping my left shoulder, and turned me toward the fire. "Lass," he said gently, "you're safe with us, I promise. Any woman who speaks gutter Erinnish as fluently as you deserves nothing but our respect; that, and our liquor. Will ye share a cup with us?"
I'm interested in the genetics of blond hair and a red beard. I know it's possible for people to have different colored hair on different parts of their body. But I can't quite picture it.
Keely can't really protest. He sits her down on a stump of wood, gets her a drink, and has everyone toast her as a bonny lass, "though she be foul of tongue and appearance."
Okay, he might be growing on me.
Keely gets angry at this, but he insists that it's a compliment, after all, are they much better?
She asks what they're doing there, and everyone gets awfully taciturn. She asks if they're king's men, or if they come "from Sean".
This gets a reaction:
It shocked them, each and every one, even the red-bearded man, who stared hard at me with a burning in his eyes, a fierce bright light that competed with the fire, with the glint of the sword in his hands. He did not hold a cup. He did not drink to me.
"From Sean," he echoed.
With meticulous effort, I rose. This time I remained standing. "Aye," I said clearly. "From Sean, Prince of Erinn. Liam's only son. Aileen's only brother. Do you know the man I mean?"
Of course, as Erinnishmen, they know who Sean is. And it's pretty clear they feel SOMETHING about the guy, though good or bad remains to be seen, I guess. That said, Keely never considers that their shock might simply be at seeing a commoner girl refer to a prince, even a foreign one, in such a casual way.
He asks who she is. Keely is smart enough to realize that it's a bad idea to tell strange men that she's the wayward princess of Homana. She claims to be the daughter of Griffon, the arms-master. She gives her own name, claiming that she was named for the Mujhar's daughter.
That actually is pretty clever. Points to Keely, for having figured out a way that she doesn't have to answer to a false name.
They get her to drink a little more, and she presses the question: are they from Sean? The redbearded dude says yes - but not how she's thinking.
She asks what that means, and this is maybe interesting:
"I can see it in your eyes, lass . . . and if you're of the castle, you'd know the girl you're named for. Likely you'd know how she'd feel."
It took me a moment to untangle his references. "If you mean the princess royal, aye—we have met. But as to how she would feel—?"
"If she knew why we were here."
I shrugged a single shoulder; the other was too painful. "She would think you sent from Sean to fetch her to her wedding."
"And would it be pleasing to her?"
I nearly laughed. "Probably not." Then modulated my tone. "She is a stubborn girl, the lady . . . she wants no part of Sean."
As usual, it annoys me to not have names for characters that are clearly important. We're going to learn his name next chapter, but I'm going to cheat and reveal it now, it's Rory.
Anyway, Rory confirms that they've heard the same. Which is really kind of embarrassing, when you think about it.
But no, he has another reason to be here:
"You have heard—" I stopped. "He did send you, then!"
"Not in the way you're thinking." His voice was very steady. "I am not here as the prince's proxy . . . I am here as his murderer."
New cliffhanger. The chapter ends here. And I'm happy to say that Keely is much more tolerable as an action girl than when she's badmouthing her siblings. (Especially poor Maeve.)
Trivia time!
(Anonymous) 2024-05-22 05:44 pm (UTC)(link)= Multi-Facets.
Re: Trivia time!
Re: Trivia time!
(Anonymous) 2024-05-23 01:30 am (UTC)(link)= Multi-Facets.
no subject
I sliced his wrist with my knife. "I know the sound of a threat—let me go, ku'reshtin!"
He did so, with alacrity. I saw shock in long-lashed eyes. "Lass—"
Maybe if you didn't grab her by the HAIR, you fucker.
By the way, dragging someone by the hair is something they did to slaves.
But imagine if it was Duncan, he would never release her.
no subject
And it's particularly annoying to see this kind of backslide in the supposed feminist book.