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i_read_whatSo plot twist!
You may notice that the title of this review is NOT "Eagle and the Nightingales". That's because I did some checking and learned that it's the FOURTH book in the series, not the third!
A Cast of Corbies is a weirdly situated book. It appears to be the start of an aborted spinoff series called "Bardic Choices", but what differentiates that from a Bardic VOICES book is unclear. It doesn't help, I suppose, that there was never a #2 in this side series. And since A Cast of Corbies takes place in the same setting - featuring Raven, by the way, it seems appropriate to slot it in here.
I WILL be doing Eagle and the Nightingales eventually, if only for lots of bird-fucking jokes, but not yet.
As for this book, I think I actually DID read this one. But the only thing I remember from it is a running joke. So it should be interesting to read it now.
One interesting note is that this book is co-written by Josepha Sherman. Sherman's collaborated on a number of Lackey books, including some of her Bard's Tale books (which feature a renegade dark elf in a very different style from Drizzt) and other urban fantasy elf books. I vaguely remember that she'd written an elf-in-historical Britain series as well (the elf was assumed to come from Cathay/China, because of his dark hair and elf eyes. It's funny what sticks with you.)
We start off with the Free Bard Raven, who waxes rather poetically about the nice summer day. I particularly like this way:
The kind of morning you hear about in sentimental ballads and scarcely ever see. Soon enough he’d be joining the main road into Kingsford, that most important city in the Kingdom of Rayden, and the usual stream of travellers, but for now, at least,he was able to enjoy an illusion of being out in the middle of nice, green Nowhere, travelling he Knew Not Where. Exactly like being in one of those sentimental ballads. Next thing, I’ll see a milkmaid with hair of flax and rosy cheeks, lips like cherries and teeth like pearls. And darlin’ dimples. And if this is going to turn out to be a bawdy ballad, she’ll have no will of her own….
...I am not sure what THAT's supposed to mean. What kind of weird non-con ballads are you thinking about?
I'm fairly certain we're not supposed to read Raven as a rapist, so that just seems like a really bizarre line. I'm now a little wary.
So anyway, Raven thinks MORE about how beautiful the day is and how difficult it is, on a day like this, to believe all the rumors and hints of trouble facing Free Bards, and all non-Guild musicians, in this Kingdom.
That...does not seem to correlate, dude. Just because there's nice weather does not mean that people can't be dicks. Also, Raven's a Rom, and maybe this is a stereotype, but I feel like a member of an oft-mistreated population would be less likely to be lulled into a false sense of security because the sun is shining.
Oh, we DO see a reference to the last book:
There had been something of the sort last fall and early winter, but the troubles had been confined to Gradford and hereabouts—something about religious mania and a High Bishop gone rather bad. He didn’t know all the details, only that Robin and Kestrel had “taken care of it.”
He doesn't have all the details, but he'd thought that was supposed to have ended the trouble for musicians...
Wait, what?
Let's look at this paragraph again:
Something about a ghost or spirit or some such… But that was supposed to have ended the troubles for musicians—yet here they were again, the same rumors, the same warnings, the same dire predictions. Free Bards and ordinary musicians alike had heard the rumors and were passing them on, yet Raven had found nothing to substantiate them. So far, whispers notwithstanding, everything had been much the same as usual; he had been able to pick his inns and play as he pleased in them, and the innkeepers had shared in the profit and rewarded him with meals and a bed, gratis. He hadn’t had a spot of trouble, not a soul had tried to harass him or any other musician who happened to be with him in any way. But the rumors he’d picked up in the last village had bothered him, and more than a bit: “It’s Kingsford that’s having the problem, Kingsford where the Guild is setting out to ban all non-Guild performers.”
Why on Alanda would overthrowing one corrupt Bishop fix the trouble that Bards have been having all over the land? Padrik had draconian rules for Gradford, but there was nothing to indicate he had much, if any, impact outside of that city.
I hate to say this about a main character two pages into a book, but I don't get the impression that Raven is very intelligent.
But anyway, the last rumor: that Kingsford intends to ban all non-guild performers IS concerning. And worse, it came directly from a Free Bard named Thrush - a much more credible source. (It would be interesting if there were evil or imposter Free Bards trying to sabotage the group...)
It's a big deal especially because the Kingsford Faire is THE Faire. It's the one where Rune had her audition and joined the group as I recall, and it's both a major source of income for the Bards as well as the informal annual gathering place.
I mean they could go to Birnam? That's where Talaysen and Rune are situated after all.
Raven makes fun of himself for his worry, noting that the Faire is too big and vital a source of income for the city to allow any nonsense - the Free Bards were too popular with the common folk, who get ignored by the Bardic Guild in favor of those with wealth or power.
Raven decides not to worry about it, since he doesn't have any hard evidence anyway:
Ah well, it wasn’t as though he had any hard evidence of trouble. Resolutely, he put the thought out of his mind. A morning like this one was not to be wasted on fretting. Time enough to worry when he was actually in the city. And worry, Raven suspected, he most certainly would. Up till now, he’d always looked forward to the Faire, and the chance to chat with old friends, perform before a monied audience, and perhaps woo a few women who found his dark [Roma] looks alluring and his eye patch nicely mysterious. But even without trouble from the Guild, this Faire wasn’t going to be quite like those before, not without the strong, calming presence of Talaysen to keep everyone in line. Understandable that the man wouldn’t be here; he and Rune were expecting their first child, after all, and neither one of them wanted to do any traveling.
Aw, good for them. Also, we get a bit of a description of Raven here. As a reminder, in any quote, I use the phrase [Roma] to replace the word "Gypsy" which is very prevalent in this series.
Raven tangents to the first time he saw Rune, "back when she'd been little more than a child". Even if he hadn't been sent by the Free Bards, he thinks he would have had to teach her. Rune's age is a bit of a retcon here, since in the Lark and the Wren, Rune leaves home at about 14-15. And Raven had taught her a few years before. But I like anything that shrinks down the age difference between Rune and Talaysen, so I'll allow it.
Speaking of Talaysen, apparently since he can't be there, he's appointed Raven to act in his stead.
...really? REALLY?
Look dude, I hate to be skeptical, but we've seen nothing so far to indicate that this guy would be good in that role. I mean, I know we didn't get to see a lot of the ins and outs about the way the Free Bards are organized, but I feel like Erdric/Owl or Nightingale would have made a more logical choice. Gwyna, too. Hell, I think KESTREL might be a better choice.
Anyway, he's whistling the "intricate twists of 'the True Lady and the False Knight" until his pack donkey starts braying, which makes Raven laugh that everyone's a critic. He does have to do some maneuvering to keep the donkey out away from his blind side, because of the patch. I like that touch - because yeah, you have to do some adaptive techniques if you don't have your full vision.
Raven ends up coming up on a wagon that's gotten stuck in a ditch. He ends up recognizing one of the dudes trying to get it out: a tall lanky dude named Heron. We met him before! I forgot his real name! But hi, Heron!
So, anyway, Heron asks if Raven can give them a hand. And Raven does, not by going in the ditch to help, but by going to the mules, blowing in their nostrils and whispering in their ears.
The woman in the group gets enough of a description that it's clear she's going to be fairly important:
“What do you think you’re doing?” the woman asked indignantly. Raven glanced up at her. She was younger than he’d first thought, not all that many years from childhood, fine-boned as a sprite, with a feminine, bird-graceful figure, a narrow, elfin face…. And impatient brown eyes.
So what does he do?
Come, my friends,” Raven said to the mules, then lowered his voice to the soothing murmur he had used a few moments before. The mules swiveled their huge ears to catch his words, then obligingly followed him, straining against their harness and the weight of the wagon behind. The stuck wagon shifted, stirred. Then the mules gave a mighty lurch, and the wagon came free, with a rattle that must have shook the driver’s teeth, clattering back up onto the road.
Okay, that's a pretty good trick. The woman is suitably impressed and Raven credits it to "[Roma] magic" then when he sees the "irritation at him glinting in her eyes", he corrects to "the [Roma] gift of knowing just how to sweet-talk creatures."
...okay, I admit, Raven's pretty much a himbo, but he DID just help you guys out in a pretty impressive way, lady. The instant humorlessness of the character is not particularly endearing. I mean, look at this.
Leaning on the wagon, looking slyly up at her, he added, “Works with humans, too.”
She wasn’t accepting that; he could see that in the slightly sour twist to her smile. “Heron, do you know this man?” she demanded, as Heron pulled himself up out of the ditch and came alongside the wagon.
Seriously lady, what is your PROBLEM?
Heron introduces them, and apparently she's a Free Bard named Magpie. It must be an ironic name, because this woman definitely isn't written like a magpie.
The third man is scruffy, of Roma blood, and has unfocused brown eyes. He identifies himself with a mumble as Crow, a drummer.
So they're in the ditch because they were run off the road by a wagonload of Guild musicians, who didn't even bother to look back to see if anyone was hurt or killed. Per Magpie, she'd been running into this her whole journey.
Well, I suppose I can understand being cranky, but it'll probably be a while before Magpie really grows on me.
Heron and Crow confirm it isn't just Magpie's gender that's a problem (the Guild doesn't allow female members, recall) - Heron and Crow have had trouble too. Per Crow, some of the bigger cities wouldn't let any non guild-member get a busking permit. Heron says he got into the cities, and a permit, but no decent place would allow him to perform.
That's a rather subtle, clever bit actually. Obviously both Free Bards are disadvantaged, but Heron is white while Crow is Roma, so he did get a bit farther before hitting the closed door.
Street performances are out, replaced by a new Guild trick - Guild apprentices giving small concerts of "mild, acceptable music" in newly built theaters and dancing halls. Small but stylish places.
I like this description:
“Oh, they’re something new, just like these pocket theaters that have sprung up. The Guild has been buying or building these things in every city I’ve been in. The theaters are done up to look like a reception hall in some great noble’s house, and the dancing halls are made to look like ballrooms. All cheap gilt and flocked shoddy, of course, but they pass for gold and velvet. Makes the common folk feel important, as if they’d been invited to a fancy party by the King.”
Heron took up the tale, patting the mules absent-mindedly to steady them. “They buy small buildings or put up painted tents; there’s a stage, and either cheap benches, or a dance floor. Then they bring in groups of Guild musicians or apprentices. Folks have to pay a small entrance fee to get in to hear the music and dance to it-assuming anyone would want to dance to that dull stuff-but even though they’ve been grumbling about it, people have been paying.”
One of the things that I wish is that we actually got to see the inside of the Guild. Both Talaysen and Kestrel have some experience there, albeit in very different strata, but it's not really clear to me how it works. Do the members of the Guild still have to make money? Because if so, then these actions aren't necessarily unreasonable. Concerts and theaters and dance halls make sense.
But the impression I think we're SUPPOSED to get is that this is a concentrated effort to eliminate independent music performers.
But why?
That's the part that's rather confusing. The Free Bards aren't a particular large organization. They're not rich or political. They're not centralized in any way to form a power block. And honestly, except for Talaysen himself, it doesn't seem like any of them should be on the Guild's radar.
In the Lark and the Wren, we're told that many songs sung by Guild folk are written by Free Bards and vice versa (with implications that the Free Bard products are better. Heh.) And we know that the Free Bards rarely end up in the cushy, titled positions. Only Talaysen in Birnam, and the Guild had lost its influence in Birnam a long time ago.
Anyway, Magpie is a bit nervous that they might not even be allowed into the Faire. Per the narrative, Raven is worried about the same, but he fakes confidence anyway, and they all travel together. Raven is having a lot of "what would Talaysen do?" worries.
So they make it to the Faire, and thankfully, the guards don't seem to care that they're Free Bards. And everything looks normal - even though the Faire hasn't officially started, there are already merchant stalls being unpacked. Heron plans to sell their wagon at a livery stable - a place that can also buy Raven's donkey.
Magpie is still unnecessarily humorless though. Look at this:
He nodded absently, casting his eyes up and down the rows of tents for familiar signs or faces. “Good enough for me,” he replied. “Ha, look at tavern row. Old Merchan has set up his travelling version of the Flying Swan!” The more permanent version, the inn within the city walls, was a Kingsford institution, at least for wandering performers. “When we’re all settled, we’ll gather at the migrating Swan, eh?” he finished with a laugh. Magpie cast her eyes up, but Crow and Heron both chuckled.
Seriously lady, what is your PROBLEM?
I THINK Lackey and Sherman are going for some kind of cantankerous romance thing here, but it's pretty off-putting. Raven might be a bit of a himbo (though he's making a better showing now), but his antics seem pretty harmless. He isn't even really going in the 'obnoxious flirt who can't accept no' direction. Magpie just seems like an utter killjoy.
At least the Flying Swan looks interesting:
Merchan had, of course, stayed in Kingsford to run his permanent inn, but he’d tried his best to make this version of The Flying Swan look as close as possible to the original, imitating the dark, smoke-stained walls with equally dark canvas, on which were pinned a few tattered banners. A tired lute leaned against one side of the bar, two flutes against another. Atmosphere, Raven thought wryly.
The Swan, migrating or otherwise, was always a magnet for musicians. Merchan welcomed them with great enthusiasm, whether or not there were paying customers about. He’d been looking forward to a few cheerful drinks with those friends he hadn’t seen since last year’s Faire. But as Raven looked about the small common room, eyes adjusting to the dimness, he frowned; this was not an atmosphere of calm, as he’d first thought. There was such a weight of gloom hanging in the air, it felt like a funeral.
And maybe a bit depressing.
Fortunately, in comes Erdrick, who apparently picked up a k between books. He's pretty grim, able to fill Raven in on the troubles. It's pretty bad for anyone trying to make a living in the kingdom. And the Duke, Arden, who is normally a supporter of the arts doesn't seem willing to do anything.
Another Free Bard with a very detailed description pops up here:
“He is a supporter of the arts,” someone muttered. Raven turned to see a very young man sitting behind them, a youngster with a pale, thin, beaky face topped by dishwater-blond hair; the neck of a lute protruded over his lean back. The young man gave a nervous little grin and a dip of the head. “Jaysen,” he said. “Free Bard. Lute player.”
One of Lackey's quirks is her re-use of names. I brought that up in the Lark and the Wren with King Charlis. A blond guy named Jaysen was also a pretty prominent character in the Herald Mage of Valdemar series.
Raven inwardly wonders if he'd ever been that young, though he admits he's probably only about ten years older.
Jaysen has news though. Arden IS a supporter of the arts, and even has his own theater troupe, but the restrictions on non-Guild musicians are coming from the King. And Arden can't defy him. Interesting. I wonder how Jaysen knows this. Raven, with the attention span of a gnat, enjoys the "trained beauty of Jaysen's voice" which had broke into a nice, clear tenor.
Bets on Jaysen having some kind of connection to the Duke?
Raven decides to take a walk and see things for himself. Owl doesn't speak, but Jaysen warns he won't like what he finds.
And indeed:
The first thing Raven noticed as he wormed his way neatly through the crowds was a rather conspicuous lack. In every available corner of the Faire, every niche, there should have been a performer of some sort, a minstrel or juggler or magician. Instead he found no musicians of any kind, not even the most amateurish of street singers, although there were jugglers, mimes, and other entertainers in plenty. A little chill began to steal up the Free Bards spine, particularly when he came to a plain, precisely square building labeled in prim, clear script, “Harp and Flute Dancing Hall.”
Honestly, this doesn't really make sense to me. Even granting bad weather, I think most people would be happy to enjoy skilled street performers rather than paying to go inside. If anything, you'd think the free street performers would hurt the business of the Hall instead.
Raven goes to enter, but is stopped, and this is a bit of an odd exchange:
Not so fast, my fine lad.” A meaty hand falling heavily on his shoulder brought Raven to a sudden stop. “If you want in here, you gotta pay.”
Raven pulled away as the man ran eyes full of contempt over him. His own response was to raise an angry eyebrow at the bully. Oh, he’d seen this type a hundred times before in his travels! This big lout, jammed into a livery of purple and gold that was far too small for him, was the sort of bully who assumed every [Rom] was a common thief or scoundrel. Stupidity combined with a narrow and parochial mind guaranteed hatred for anyone who was at all different from himself. Sadism fairly radiated from him. The Free Bard did not react to the lout’s obvious antagonism; instead, he merely smiled. “And what,” he purred in his finest accent, “might the fee be?”
So disclaimer, unnecessarily: I am a middle-class white person. I don't tend to have to deal with this kind of instant micro-aggression. But I feel like Lackey and Sherman could have done a better job of showing where Raven's interpretation comes from - some description of action or tone of voice or expression during that first part that would make Raven's assumption of bigotry make sense. Without it, it just seems like Raven's annoyed at being asked for money.
It's pricey too. Three coppers. Still doesn't make sense to me, though Lackey and Sherman try to explain it:
And there, Raven realized, was the real problem. Combine the comfort of a roof over your head no matter what the weather with the irresistible lure of the new and stylish, and there went the take of the average street musician. Folks were going to save the pennies they used to toss into the hat to get into one of these stylish new dancing halls. Their pennies would buy hours of entertainment, not merely a few songs. And if they didn’t have as good a time inside as they might listening to one of those street musicians-well, no one said fashion had to make sense!
See, this doesn't make sense. For one, people don't buy songs from street musicians. Street musicians play, and people pass by and throw money in the hat or whatever. They play for hours because that's how they eat, and no one is expected to keep paying even if they wait around. We SAW how this worked with Rune, who spent whole mornings there.
I guess a difference is that the street performer could just leave when they want, but that's pretty rare, because again, they have to eat.
One possible advantage I can see from the guild hall, is being able to guarantee the availability of a particular performer, but that's not mentioned.
Raven continues this not quite sensical explanation:
For that matter, the folk who paid to get inside this tent might well convince themselves that they were having just as good a time as they had dancing in the “street” of the Faire. After all, they had paid for this privilege and sheer determination would ensure that they had a good time, whether or not the musicians were any good. Just the atmosphere would make people who paid to get in feel superior to those who had no pennies to spare. There would be no small brats underfoot, no livestock or shoppers, and an environment that would counterfeit the parties held in nobles’ private portable “manors.” How could a street musician compete with that?
...by playing? If they can hear the music on the street, they can tell if it's not as good?
I get that class and fashion are a thing, but I don't really find this that plausible. I appreciate the attempt to sell the dilemma, but this is a bit overboard.
I do appreciate Raven's dilemma though, as he thinks about how Talaysen foisted the job of dealing with this onto him, and he has no idea how.
His thoughtful hesitation makes the "bully" annoyed and things escalate:
The bully frowned, becoming impatient when Raven did not produce the required pennies. “Well, lad? You gonna stand here all day?”
Raven took a deliberate step back. Sheer frustration at the size of the problem facing him made him irritable and inclined to take his frustration out on the nearest target. Sheer recklessness made him challenge, “What of it? This is Faire space, is it not, free to all?”
“Go on, get outta here!” the bully snarled, giving him a rude shove. Then he made a real mistake, as he added, not quite under his breath, “Lousy [Rom].”
In the next moment, he found himself pushed up against the canvas side of the hall, Raven fixing him with a deliberately manic glare. Raven had always been a lot stronger than he looked; he was probably stronger than this bully, for all the latter s bulk. “Do you know how I lost this eye?” the Free Bard purred. “Well? Do you?”
Again, I feel like Lackey and Sherman didn't do enough to make this "bully" actually read like a bully. He simply asked for a fee to get in, and then got a little impatient. This isn't a visual medium. If there's more that Raven is seeing that we're not, you have to tell us!
I don't doubt that Raven is very good at spotting racism, but if you don't tell us what he sees, that's a problem!
Anyway, Raven starts the running gag that continues through the novel, by explaining how he lost his eye:
“I lost it conjuring a demon. That’s what the spell demanded,” Raven continued with quiet menace. “My eye. A terrible price, but I paid it. I won. And now the demon does my every command.” He laughed, very softly, very chillingly, and grinned evilly as the bully shrank away from him. “Would you like to meet him?” Raven demanded.
“Answer me! Would you like to meet my demon?”
The bully backs down and Raven leaves, mimicking a villain from a very bad play. He does chide himself later, pointing out that he can terrorize a "provincial village idiot" but he doesn't know what to do about the Guild. What can they do now?
I mean, you could give a free concert?
This emphasis on buildings is really strange because it's not like there aren't a LOT of famous outdoor concerts and festivals in the real world.
Woodstock was outdoors! Coachella is outdoors! Famous people go to state fairs and play on an outdoor stage. Lollapalooza and Burning Man are outdoors!
Now maybe there's something specific about Alanda's environment that makes indoors preferable, but I don't feel like that's been established either, so Raven's panic seems very odd.
But that said, I don't think this is a bad start. Raven seems like a bit of an impulsive himbo, but he's reasonably charming. And I like the focus on the Free Bards as an organization. I'm looking forward to seeing more how it works and maybe more about how festivals work and things like that.
I feel guilty for saying this, but I really hope we've seen the last of Magpie. But I have my doubts. I am, sadly, pretty genre savvy, and she strikes me as someone who'll be more prominent going forward. Ech.
Anyway, the chapter ends here.
You may notice that the title of this review is NOT "Eagle and the Nightingales". That's because I did some checking and learned that it's the FOURTH book in the series, not the third!
A Cast of Corbies is a weirdly situated book. It appears to be the start of an aborted spinoff series called "Bardic Choices", but what differentiates that from a Bardic VOICES book is unclear. It doesn't help, I suppose, that there was never a #2 in this side series. And since A Cast of Corbies takes place in the same setting - featuring Raven, by the way, it seems appropriate to slot it in here.
I WILL be doing Eagle and the Nightingales eventually, if only for lots of bird-fucking jokes, but not yet.
As for this book, I think I actually DID read this one. But the only thing I remember from it is a running joke. So it should be interesting to read it now.
One interesting note is that this book is co-written by Josepha Sherman. Sherman's collaborated on a number of Lackey books, including some of her Bard's Tale books (which feature a renegade dark elf in a very different style from Drizzt) and other urban fantasy elf books. I vaguely remember that she'd written an elf-in-historical Britain series as well (the elf was assumed to come from Cathay/China, because of his dark hair and elf eyes. It's funny what sticks with you.)
We start off with the Free Bard Raven, who waxes rather poetically about the nice summer day. I particularly like this way:
The kind of morning you hear about in sentimental ballads and scarcely ever see. Soon enough he’d be joining the main road into Kingsford, that most important city in the Kingdom of Rayden, and the usual stream of travellers, but for now, at least,he was able to enjoy an illusion of being out in the middle of nice, green Nowhere, travelling he Knew Not Where. Exactly like being in one of those sentimental ballads. Next thing, I’ll see a milkmaid with hair of flax and rosy cheeks, lips like cherries and teeth like pearls. And darlin’ dimples. And if this is going to turn out to be a bawdy ballad, she’ll have no will of her own….
...I am not sure what THAT's supposed to mean. What kind of weird non-con ballads are you thinking about?
I'm fairly certain we're not supposed to read Raven as a rapist, so that just seems like a really bizarre line. I'm now a little wary.
So anyway, Raven thinks MORE about how beautiful the day is and how difficult it is, on a day like this, to believe all the rumors and hints of trouble facing Free Bards, and all non-Guild musicians, in this Kingdom.
That...does not seem to correlate, dude. Just because there's nice weather does not mean that people can't be dicks. Also, Raven's a Rom, and maybe this is a stereotype, but I feel like a member of an oft-mistreated population would be less likely to be lulled into a false sense of security because the sun is shining.
Oh, we DO see a reference to the last book:
There had been something of the sort last fall and early winter, but the troubles had been confined to Gradford and hereabouts—something about religious mania and a High Bishop gone rather bad. He didn’t know all the details, only that Robin and Kestrel had “taken care of it.”
He doesn't have all the details, but he'd thought that was supposed to have ended the trouble for musicians...
Wait, what?
Let's look at this paragraph again:
Something about a ghost or spirit or some such… But that was supposed to have ended the troubles for musicians—yet here they were again, the same rumors, the same warnings, the same dire predictions. Free Bards and ordinary musicians alike had heard the rumors and were passing them on, yet Raven had found nothing to substantiate them. So far, whispers notwithstanding, everything had been much the same as usual; he had been able to pick his inns and play as he pleased in them, and the innkeepers had shared in the profit and rewarded him with meals and a bed, gratis. He hadn’t had a spot of trouble, not a soul had tried to harass him or any other musician who happened to be with him in any way. But the rumors he’d picked up in the last village had bothered him, and more than a bit: “It’s Kingsford that’s having the problem, Kingsford where the Guild is setting out to ban all non-Guild performers.”
Why on Alanda would overthrowing one corrupt Bishop fix the trouble that Bards have been having all over the land? Padrik had draconian rules for Gradford, but there was nothing to indicate he had much, if any, impact outside of that city.
I hate to say this about a main character two pages into a book, but I don't get the impression that Raven is very intelligent.
But anyway, the last rumor: that Kingsford intends to ban all non-guild performers IS concerning. And worse, it came directly from a Free Bard named Thrush - a much more credible source. (It would be interesting if there were evil or imposter Free Bards trying to sabotage the group...)
It's a big deal especially because the Kingsford Faire is THE Faire. It's the one where Rune had her audition and joined the group as I recall, and it's both a major source of income for the Bards as well as the informal annual gathering place.
I mean they could go to Birnam? That's where Talaysen and Rune are situated after all.
Raven makes fun of himself for his worry, noting that the Faire is too big and vital a source of income for the city to allow any nonsense - the Free Bards were too popular with the common folk, who get ignored by the Bardic Guild in favor of those with wealth or power.
Raven decides not to worry about it, since he doesn't have any hard evidence anyway:
Ah well, it wasn’t as though he had any hard evidence of trouble. Resolutely, he put the thought out of his mind. A morning like this one was not to be wasted on fretting. Time enough to worry when he was actually in the city. And worry, Raven suspected, he most certainly would. Up till now, he’d always looked forward to the Faire, and the chance to chat with old friends, perform before a monied audience, and perhaps woo a few women who found his dark [Roma] looks alluring and his eye patch nicely mysterious. But even without trouble from the Guild, this Faire wasn’t going to be quite like those before, not without the strong, calming presence of Talaysen to keep everyone in line. Understandable that the man wouldn’t be here; he and Rune were expecting their first child, after all, and neither one of them wanted to do any traveling.
Aw, good for them. Also, we get a bit of a description of Raven here. As a reminder, in any quote, I use the phrase [Roma] to replace the word "Gypsy" which is very prevalent in this series.
Raven tangents to the first time he saw Rune, "back when she'd been little more than a child". Even if he hadn't been sent by the Free Bards, he thinks he would have had to teach her. Rune's age is a bit of a retcon here, since in the Lark and the Wren, Rune leaves home at about 14-15. And Raven had taught her a few years before. But I like anything that shrinks down the age difference between Rune and Talaysen, so I'll allow it.
Speaking of Talaysen, apparently since he can't be there, he's appointed Raven to act in his stead.
...really? REALLY?
Look dude, I hate to be skeptical, but we've seen nothing so far to indicate that this guy would be good in that role. I mean, I know we didn't get to see a lot of the ins and outs about the way the Free Bards are organized, but I feel like Erdric/Owl or Nightingale would have made a more logical choice. Gwyna, too. Hell, I think KESTREL might be a better choice.
Anyway, he's whistling the "intricate twists of 'the True Lady and the False Knight" until his pack donkey starts braying, which makes Raven laugh that everyone's a critic. He does have to do some maneuvering to keep the donkey out away from his blind side, because of the patch. I like that touch - because yeah, you have to do some adaptive techniques if you don't have your full vision.
Raven ends up coming up on a wagon that's gotten stuck in a ditch. He ends up recognizing one of the dudes trying to get it out: a tall lanky dude named Heron. We met him before! I forgot his real name! But hi, Heron!
So, anyway, Heron asks if Raven can give them a hand. And Raven does, not by going in the ditch to help, but by going to the mules, blowing in their nostrils and whispering in their ears.
The woman in the group gets enough of a description that it's clear she's going to be fairly important:
“What do you think you’re doing?” the woman asked indignantly. Raven glanced up at her. She was younger than he’d first thought, not all that many years from childhood, fine-boned as a sprite, with a feminine, bird-graceful figure, a narrow, elfin face…. And impatient brown eyes.
So what does he do?
Come, my friends,” Raven said to the mules, then lowered his voice to the soothing murmur he had used a few moments before. The mules swiveled their huge ears to catch his words, then obligingly followed him, straining against their harness and the weight of the wagon behind. The stuck wagon shifted, stirred. Then the mules gave a mighty lurch, and the wagon came free, with a rattle that must have shook the driver’s teeth, clattering back up onto the road.
Okay, that's a pretty good trick. The woman is suitably impressed and Raven credits it to "[Roma] magic" then when he sees the "irritation at him glinting in her eyes", he corrects to "the [Roma] gift of knowing just how to sweet-talk creatures."
...okay, I admit, Raven's pretty much a himbo, but he DID just help you guys out in a pretty impressive way, lady. The instant humorlessness of the character is not particularly endearing. I mean, look at this.
Leaning on the wagon, looking slyly up at her, he added, “Works with humans, too.”
She wasn’t accepting that; he could see that in the slightly sour twist to her smile. “Heron, do you know this man?” she demanded, as Heron pulled himself up out of the ditch and came alongside the wagon.
Seriously lady, what is your PROBLEM?
Heron introduces them, and apparently she's a Free Bard named Magpie. It must be an ironic name, because this woman definitely isn't written like a magpie.
The third man is scruffy, of Roma blood, and has unfocused brown eyes. He identifies himself with a mumble as Crow, a drummer.
So they're in the ditch because they were run off the road by a wagonload of Guild musicians, who didn't even bother to look back to see if anyone was hurt or killed. Per Magpie, she'd been running into this her whole journey.
Well, I suppose I can understand being cranky, but it'll probably be a while before Magpie really grows on me.
Heron and Crow confirm it isn't just Magpie's gender that's a problem (the Guild doesn't allow female members, recall) - Heron and Crow have had trouble too. Per Crow, some of the bigger cities wouldn't let any non guild-member get a busking permit. Heron says he got into the cities, and a permit, but no decent place would allow him to perform.
That's a rather subtle, clever bit actually. Obviously both Free Bards are disadvantaged, but Heron is white while Crow is Roma, so he did get a bit farther before hitting the closed door.
Street performances are out, replaced by a new Guild trick - Guild apprentices giving small concerts of "mild, acceptable music" in newly built theaters and dancing halls. Small but stylish places.
I like this description:
“Oh, they’re something new, just like these pocket theaters that have sprung up. The Guild has been buying or building these things in every city I’ve been in. The theaters are done up to look like a reception hall in some great noble’s house, and the dancing halls are made to look like ballrooms. All cheap gilt and flocked shoddy, of course, but they pass for gold and velvet. Makes the common folk feel important, as if they’d been invited to a fancy party by the King.”
Heron took up the tale, patting the mules absent-mindedly to steady them. “They buy small buildings or put up painted tents; there’s a stage, and either cheap benches, or a dance floor. Then they bring in groups of Guild musicians or apprentices. Folks have to pay a small entrance fee to get in to hear the music and dance to it-assuming anyone would want to dance to that dull stuff-but even though they’ve been grumbling about it, people have been paying.”
One of the things that I wish is that we actually got to see the inside of the Guild. Both Talaysen and Kestrel have some experience there, albeit in very different strata, but it's not really clear to me how it works. Do the members of the Guild still have to make money? Because if so, then these actions aren't necessarily unreasonable. Concerts and theaters and dance halls make sense.
But the impression I think we're SUPPOSED to get is that this is a concentrated effort to eliminate independent music performers.
But why?
That's the part that's rather confusing. The Free Bards aren't a particular large organization. They're not rich or political. They're not centralized in any way to form a power block. And honestly, except for Talaysen himself, it doesn't seem like any of them should be on the Guild's radar.
In the Lark and the Wren, we're told that many songs sung by Guild folk are written by Free Bards and vice versa (with implications that the Free Bard products are better. Heh.) And we know that the Free Bards rarely end up in the cushy, titled positions. Only Talaysen in Birnam, and the Guild had lost its influence in Birnam a long time ago.
Anyway, Magpie is a bit nervous that they might not even be allowed into the Faire. Per the narrative, Raven is worried about the same, but he fakes confidence anyway, and they all travel together. Raven is having a lot of "what would Talaysen do?" worries.
So they make it to the Faire, and thankfully, the guards don't seem to care that they're Free Bards. And everything looks normal - even though the Faire hasn't officially started, there are already merchant stalls being unpacked. Heron plans to sell their wagon at a livery stable - a place that can also buy Raven's donkey.
Magpie is still unnecessarily humorless though. Look at this:
He nodded absently, casting his eyes up and down the rows of tents for familiar signs or faces. “Good enough for me,” he replied. “Ha, look at tavern row. Old Merchan has set up his travelling version of the Flying Swan!” The more permanent version, the inn within the city walls, was a Kingsford institution, at least for wandering performers. “When we’re all settled, we’ll gather at the migrating Swan, eh?” he finished with a laugh. Magpie cast her eyes up, but Crow and Heron both chuckled.
Seriously lady, what is your PROBLEM?
I THINK Lackey and Sherman are going for some kind of cantankerous romance thing here, but it's pretty off-putting. Raven might be a bit of a himbo (though he's making a better showing now), but his antics seem pretty harmless. He isn't even really going in the 'obnoxious flirt who can't accept no' direction. Magpie just seems like an utter killjoy.
At least the Flying Swan looks interesting:
Merchan had, of course, stayed in Kingsford to run his permanent inn, but he’d tried his best to make this version of The Flying Swan look as close as possible to the original, imitating the dark, smoke-stained walls with equally dark canvas, on which were pinned a few tattered banners. A tired lute leaned against one side of the bar, two flutes against another. Atmosphere, Raven thought wryly.
The Swan, migrating or otherwise, was always a magnet for musicians. Merchan welcomed them with great enthusiasm, whether or not there were paying customers about. He’d been looking forward to a few cheerful drinks with those friends he hadn’t seen since last year’s Faire. But as Raven looked about the small common room, eyes adjusting to the dimness, he frowned; this was not an atmosphere of calm, as he’d first thought. There was such a weight of gloom hanging in the air, it felt like a funeral.
And maybe a bit depressing.
Fortunately, in comes Erdrick, who apparently picked up a k between books. He's pretty grim, able to fill Raven in on the troubles. It's pretty bad for anyone trying to make a living in the kingdom. And the Duke, Arden, who is normally a supporter of the arts doesn't seem willing to do anything.
Another Free Bard with a very detailed description pops up here:
“He is a supporter of the arts,” someone muttered. Raven turned to see a very young man sitting behind them, a youngster with a pale, thin, beaky face topped by dishwater-blond hair; the neck of a lute protruded over his lean back. The young man gave a nervous little grin and a dip of the head. “Jaysen,” he said. “Free Bard. Lute player.”
One of Lackey's quirks is her re-use of names. I brought that up in the Lark and the Wren with King Charlis. A blond guy named Jaysen was also a pretty prominent character in the Herald Mage of Valdemar series.
Raven inwardly wonders if he'd ever been that young, though he admits he's probably only about ten years older.
Jaysen has news though. Arden IS a supporter of the arts, and even has his own theater troupe, but the restrictions on non-Guild musicians are coming from the King. And Arden can't defy him. Interesting. I wonder how Jaysen knows this. Raven, with the attention span of a gnat, enjoys the "trained beauty of Jaysen's voice" which had broke into a nice, clear tenor.
Bets on Jaysen having some kind of connection to the Duke?
Raven decides to take a walk and see things for himself. Owl doesn't speak, but Jaysen warns he won't like what he finds.
And indeed:
The first thing Raven noticed as he wormed his way neatly through the crowds was a rather conspicuous lack. In every available corner of the Faire, every niche, there should have been a performer of some sort, a minstrel or juggler or magician. Instead he found no musicians of any kind, not even the most amateurish of street singers, although there were jugglers, mimes, and other entertainers in plenty. A little chill began to steal up the Free Bards spine, particularly when he came to a plain, precisely square building labeled in prim, clear script, “Harp and Flute Dancing Hall.”
Honestly, this doesn't really make sense to me. Even granting bad weather, I think most people would be happy to enjoy skilled street performers rather than paying to go inside. If anything, you'd think the free street performers would hurt the business of the Hall instead.
Raven goes to enter, but is stopped, and this is a bit of an odd exchange:
Not so fast, my fine lad.” A meaty hand falling heavily on his shoulder brought Raven to a sudden stop. “If you want in here, you gotta pay.”
Raven pulled away as the man ran eyes full of contempt over him. His own response was to raise an angry eyebrow at the bully. Oh, he’d seen this type a hundred times before in his travels! This big lout, jammed into a livery of purple and gold that was far too small for him, was the sort of bully who assumed every [Rom] was a common thief or scoundrel. Stupidity combined with a narrow and parochial mind guaranteed hatred for anyone who was at all different from himself. Sadism fairly radiated from him. The Free Bard did not react to the lout’s obvious antagonism; instead, he merely smiled. “And what,” he purred in his finest accent, “might the fee be?”
So disclaimer, unnecessarily: I am a middle-class white person. I don't tend to have to deal with this kind of instant micro-aggression. But I feel like Lackey and Sherman could have done a better job of showing where Raven's interpretation comes from - some description of action or tone of voice or expression during that first part that would make Raven's assumption of bigotry make sense. Without it, it just seems like Raven's annoyed at being asked for money.
It's pricey too. Three coppers. Still doesn't make sense to me, though Lackey and Sherman try to explain it:
And there, Raven realized, was the real problem. Combine the comfort of a roof over your head no matter what the weather with the irresistible lure of the new and stylish, and there went the take of the average street musician. Folks were going to save the pennies they used to toss into the hat to get into one of these stylish new dancing halls. Their pennies would buy hours of entertainment, not merely a few songs. And if they didn’t have as good a time inside as they might listening to one of those street musicians-well, no one said fashion had to make sense!
See, this doesn't make sense. For one, people don't buy songs from street musicians. Street musicians play, and people pass by and throw money in the hat or whatever. They play for hours because that's how they eat, and no one is expected to keep paying even if they wait around. We SAW how this worked with Rune, who spent whole mornings there.
I guess a difference is that the street performer could just leave when they want, but that's pretty rare, because again, they have to eat.
One possible advantage I can see from the guild hall, is being able to guarantee the availability of a particular performer, but that's not mentioned.
Raven continues this not quite sensical explanation:
For that matter, the folk who paid to get inside this tent might well convince themselves that they were having just as good a time as they had dancing in the “street” of the Faire. After all, they had paid for this privilege and sheer determination would ensure that they had a good time, whether or not the musicians were any good. Just the atmosphere would make people who paid to get in feel superior to those who had no pennies to spare. There would be no small brats underfoot, no livestock or shoppers, and an environment that would counterfeit the parties held in nobles’ private portable “manors.” How could a street musician compete with that?
...by playing? If they can hear the music on the street, they can tell if it's not as good?
I get that class and fashion are a thing, but I don't really find this that plausible. I appreciate the attempt to sell the dilemma, but this is a bit overboard.
I do appreciate Raven's dilemma though, as he thinks about how Talaysen foisted the job of dealing with this onto him, and he has no idea how.
His thoughtful hesitation makes the "bully" annoyed and things escalate:
The bully frowned, becoming impatient when Raven did not produce the required pennies. “Well, lad? You gonna stand here all day?”
Raven took a deliberate step back. Sheer frustration at the size of the problem facing him made him irritable and inclined to take his frustration out on the nearest target. Sheer recklessness made him challenge, “What of it? This is Faire space, is it not, free to all?”
“Go on, get outta here!” the bully snarled, giving him a rude shove. Then he made a real mistake, as he added, not quite under his breath, “Lousy [Rom].”
In the next moment, he found himself pushed up against the canvas side of the hall, Raven fixing him with a deliberately manic glare. Raven had always been a lot stronger than he looked; he was probably stronger than this bully, for all the latter s bulk. “Do you know how I lost this eye?” the Free Bard purred. “Well? Do you?”
Again, I feel like Lackey and Sherman didn't do enough to make this "bully" actually read like a bully. He simply asked for a fee to get in, and then got a little impatient. This isn't a visual medium. If there's more that Raven is seeing that we're not, you have to tell us!
I don't doubt that Raven is very good at spotting racism, but if you don't tell us what he sees, that's a problem!
Anyway, Raven starts the running gag that continues through the novel, by explaining how he lost his eye:
“I lost it conjuring a demon. That’s what the spell demanded,” Raven continued with quiet menace. “My eye. A terrible price, but I paid it. I won. And now the demon does my every command.” He laughed, very softly, very chillingly, and grinned evilly as the bully shrank away from him. “Would you like to meet him?” Raven demanded.
“Answer me! Would you like to meet my demon?”
The bully backs down and Raven leaves, mimicking a villain from a very bad play. He does chide himself later, pointing out that he can terrorize a "provincial village idiot" but he doesn't know what to do about the Guild. What can they do now?
I mean, you could give a free concert?
This emphasis on buildings is really strange because it's not like there aren't a LOT of famous outdoor concerts and festivals in the real world.
Woodstock was outdoors! Coachella is outdoors! Famous people go to state fairs and play on an outdoor stage. Lollapalooza and Burning Man are outdoors!
Now maybe there's something specific about Alanda's environment that makes indoors preferable, but I don't feel like that's been established either, so Raven's panic seems very odd.
But that said, I don't think this is a bad start. Raven seems like a bit of an impulsive himbo, but he's reasonably charming. And I like the focus on the Free Bards as an organization. I'm looking forward to seeing more how it works and maybe more about how festivals work and things like that.
I feel guilty for saying this, but I really hope we've seen the last of Magpie. But I have my doubts. I am, sadly, pretty genre savvy, and she strikes me as someone who'll be more prominent going forward. Ech.
Anyway, the chapter ends here.
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Date: 2025-04-18 01:13 am (UTC)[blink blink] Wait, really? I had no idea. I also didn't know this was a collaboration. Well, now I know both. It might explain how the style and characterization feels off.
As for Raven, we might need to see him do more magic to seem less himbo-ish. That seems to be his element, rather than gathering info and infiltrating places like Kestrel and Robin, or uncovering possibilities like Lark and Wren.
As for "the woman with no will of her own," remember how sanitized the Bard Guild's songs are? I bet there's a ton of songs with women who, when charmed by men, just go along with whatever the guy wants. I mean, the Church was saying an awful lot about women needing to be meek and wifely and such, so maybe that's part of it.
But then, I could be grasping at straws, trying to find connective logic where there's none.
= Multi-Facets.
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Date: 2025-04-18 01:27 am (UTC)I should dig out the Bard's Tale books to see how they compare. It might be fun, if nothing else, to compare Naitachal to Drizzt as renegade dark elves go. (I remember the former being considerably more fun. :-D)