Flight of the Raven - Part One, Chapter Three

[kalinara]

So last time, we got to meet our main character. IMO, Aidan's definitely got issues, but he seems pretty rational. At least so far.

But I admit, I was looking forward to this chapter. Mostly so I can see my favorite character again - kind of fucking up the whole parenting thing.



So perhaps appropriately, a Brennan-centered chapter actually starts with his stallion, Bane. Bane's pretty old at this point, and it occurs to me that I have no idea how long horses generally live.

But I like this, it's evocative:

Bane, by right of rank, had the largest stall in the stable block; a second block housed the Mujhar's favorite mounts. Brennan slipped the latch and entered the straw-bedded stall. The stallion laid back ears, cocked a hoof, then shifted stance to adjust his weight. One black hip briefly pressed Brennan into the stall; automatically slapped, the hip duly shifted itself, ritual completed. Raven ears came up. One dark eye slewed around to look as Brennan moved in close. Bane blew noisily, then bestowed his chin upon Brennan's shoulder, waiting for the fingers that knew just where to scratch.

The murmured words were familiar. Bane spoke neither Homanan nor the Old Tongue of the Cheysuli; Bane spoke motion and voice and touch and smell, the language of horse and rider. He listened but vaguely to the words Brennan crooned, hearing instead the tones and nuances, knowing nothing of meaning. Only the promise of affection. The attendance upon a king by a royal-born man himself.

And you know, there are maybe some rewards for suffering through this series. Because this is a lovely bit of language. Something I'd never have expected from the earlier books.

We're told that, being a horse, Bane doesn't pick up on the "underlying anguish" in Brennan's tone. But Ian does, because this chapter also has Ian! My two favorites in one chapter!

Ian gets a pretty great opening line too:

"I have," Ian began quietly, "spent much of my life offering succor—or merely an attentive ear—to those of my kin in need. You have always held yourself apart, depending in great measure on a natural reserve and full understanding of your place. But I have never known a Lion's cub to be beyond the need of comfort."

So Ian's about four or five years older than Niall as I recall. Niall himself is around 63-65 give or take, so Ian must be damn near seventy. That's pretty good for this series.

Brennan is prickly. He asks if Niall sent Ian. But no, Ian's just being a good uncle. Though I think this bit is interesting:

Brennan grimaced, looking away from his uncle's discerning eyes to the black silk of Bane's heavy rump. Idly he smoothed it, slicking fingers against the thin cloak of summer coat. Thinking private things. "It was always jehan you went to, or Hart—then Keely, when Hart was gone. There were times I wanted to come, but with so many others to tend, I thought your compassion might be all used up."

The trouble with being the responsible one is that it can be easy for your own issues to get overlooked. Oh and we get a description here of Ian:

Ian's eyes were on Bane. He was, like the stallion, past his prime, with hair more gray than black, and white creeping in. By casual reckoning, he was perhaps fifty; in truth, nearly seventy. It was the good fortune of the Cheysuli that age came on them slowly, except for prematurely graying hair. The bones and muscles stiffened, the skin loosened, the hair bleached to white. But nothing about Ian's manner divulged a weakening of spirit any more than in the stallion.

Apparently he's still kind of hot. Good to know! Alive at seventy AND hot. Well played, catboy!

So Ian's here to get Brennan to talk about Aidan. And Brennan's perception is interesting. He's smarter than Keely, he knows that Gisella's mental illness isn't hereditary, but he also knows that OTHER people are looking at Aidan and wondering. And unfortunately, a would be king has to be aware of appearances.

Brennan's also feeling guilty. Apparently Niall's told him about Aidan's dreams and they both know that Aidan didn't feel like he could tell Brennan about them.

This bit is sad:

"There was a time he would have told you himself."

Brennan's expression was bleak. "Not for many years. He changed, su'fali… somehow, somewhen, he changed."

"Perhaps he believed he had to."

The tone now was anguished. "I did not want him to! Why would I? After so many years of sickness… after so much worry and fear…" Brennan sighed, shutting his eyes. "We thought he would die, su'fali. In fever, he often babbled. We learned not to listen."

"Because what you heard made no sense."

Mutely, Brennan nodded.

I remember Brennan having a really interesting role in this book. He's a well-meaning parent who clearly loves his son. He's also very much mishandled the whole situation in a way that's hurt Aidan deeply.

But it makes sense. Brennan is a very compassionate person, as we've seen from the last two books, but he's a very conventional thinker. He's logical and analytical, but he's not very imaginative. Even in a world like ours, where neurodivergence and psychotherapy are understood concepts, he'd still probably have trouble understanding his son. In this setting?

Brennan swung abruptly from the horse. "Have I tried?" he cried. "He is as much a man and warrior as you or I. There is nothing in him I would curse, wishing for alteration… he came through a sickly childhood in better fashion than we hoped for, and now there are no doubts he will live to inherit the Lion. But I cannot say what he thinks—" Brennan broke it off. The stallion shifted restlessly, disturbed by the raw tone. "Su'fali, have you never seen him look through you? Not at you, but through. As if you were not present. As if he were not, but in another place."

In this setting, Brennan doesn't really have a prayer.

Ian is comforting, pointing out that while Aidan is different from them in many ways, and in other ways, he resembles Aileen and Brennan.

Brennan also seems to find Aidan's raven, Teel, a little creepy, based on the look on Aidan's face when they talk. Which is a funny concept. I never really considered the idea that Cheysuli might have negative reactions to the personalities of some lir.

Of course, we need to namedrop Keely, as Ian reminds us that if Keely were here, she'd be able to tell them what Aidan and Teel talk about. He also points out that Brennan's own face can be funny when his cat, Sleeta, links with him.

Ian points out that Aidan was sick for a long time and it's affected him, like Brennan and his siblings' experiences affected them. And I like this.

Brennan swung shut the door and slammed the latch into place. "The Lion requires a man who can rule with intellect, not with dreams and fancies."

"Ah," Ian murmured. "Is that why you allowed yourself none?"

Ouch, but yeah. This is also a factor in why Aidan and Brennan specifically have trouble communicating. Because Brennan responds to trauma and weakness by trying to force himself to be better. We saw it with his claustrophobia in Pride of Princes. We saw it as a response to Rhiannon and his captivity trauma in Daughter of the Lion.

But Aidan is not his father, and while having dreams and not being able to confide in anyone about them is traumatic in its own right, the trauma isn't necessarily the problem that Aidan is dealing with.

Oh, and here we are:

"This began when he was a child. Children view things differently."

"Children are often too fanciful. They frighten themselves." Brennan's eyes, oddly, were black. "Do you think I know nothing of that? Even within Bane's stall, knowing the door is there, I still feel the fear of being closed in."

"Do you blame yourself for that?"

Brennan's expression was ravaged. "I was locked in the Womb for a very short time… and yet I believed it days." He raked a hand through his hair. "Gods—how I frightened myself. I made all those lir into beasts… carved marble shapes, I remade into living beasts. And now I reap the reward… shut me up in darkness, and I lose myself utterly."

Ian nodded slightly. "And so the jehan, seeing a child's fear fed by fancies, told him it was not real. Over and over again, until the child thought it best to keep everything to himself."

Oh, here we are! I was rereading my Pride of Princes review recently thinking "when DO we get the full story of Brennan's claustrophobia?" And it's here apparently!

So THIS is what Brennan has been fighting all these years: at some point, as a child, he was locked in the Womb of the Earth, that tiny little passage way beneath the throne room. I remember the descriptions of that place. It must have been nightmarish.

And since this is a setting with no comprehension of how to deal with trauma, Brennan thinks that he did it to himself. That as a BABY, he'd convinced himself that he was trapped for days, that the lir paintings were real and caused himself irreparable damage that he's still dealing with into his forties.

Oh wow. Yeah, I can see it. You have a man who believes that he'd caused his own claustrophobia through flights of fancy trying to process his son being terrified of some mystical, metaphorical, nonsensical dreams?

Yeah, he was going to fuck that up. Poor Aidan. Poor Brennan. Someone invent therapy for this setting, please.

Brennan does at least understand his screw up though:

Desperation threaded Brennan's tone. "They are dreams, Ian. What else was I to do? Allow him to frighten himself?"

Ian shrugged a single shoulder. "I have no answer for you. But Aidan still dreams… fear or no fear, something is real to him."

"And I gave it no credence, ever." Brennan collapsed against the wall, mouth pulled awry. "I am not and have never been the most discerning of men."

Aw.

Ian points out that Aileen would probably understand how Brennan feels. But apparently, they haven't really spoke about it. Brennan hasn't asked, because Aileen is very defensive of Aidan. She'll "hear no wrong of him."

Aw, that makes me sad. Especially since we've seen that Aileen is just as worried and scared as Brennan is. They could have shared this.

Then things get funny, because Ian and Brennan really don't see the world in the same way.

Ian stroked the silken neck. "No one will take that from you. But Aileen might help you bear it."

Brennan's expression was odd. "He needs to sire a son."

Ian's motion was arrested. "Why? Do you think it might be best if you replaced your son with a grandson? Just in case—"

Brennan does have a streak of ruthless practicality. But no, he doesn't want to replace Aidan. He just thinks that the throne needs heirs. And Niall had five children at that age.

Ian points out that Niall's still alive. Brennan is very healthy. And thus there's no need to worry about heirs yet. And for all that Brennan says he doesn't want to replace Aidan, he maybe contradicts that here:

Brennan shut his eyes. When he opened them, Ian saw bleak despair. "And if my son is mad? How do I get another? Aileen can give me no more… and I will not set her aside. I need a son from Aidan."

Ian shook his head. "Aidan is not mad. Aidan is only—different."

Brennan cupped Bane's black muzzle. "Kings cannot be different. It makes the Homanans afraid."

Ian points out that they're no more afraid than Brennan is. And, yeah. Basically.

But it is an interesting dilemma. Granted, we haven't seen anything to indicate that Aidan is unfit to rule. Brennan is basically catastrophizing here. Dude, take a breath.

--

So we switch scenes to Aidan, who's riding out with Teel. Aidan's complaining about the cold and bickering with Teel, and honestly, he seems pretty normal to me.

Aidan, who could feel the blast of the wind as well as the raven, offered no comment. He was too busy with the horse, who threatened to run again. Aidan did not really blame him. If he himself were a horse, he might run as well. The wind was full of urging, wailing down hilly croftlands. Its song was one of winter; of hearthfires and steaming wine. Or, if he were a horse, of windtight stable and warm bedding straw, with grain for the asking.

"Summer," Aidan muttered. "What will winter be like, I wonder?"

There was nothing for it but to ride on, to reach the fringes of the wood that would provide some protection. The track, warded by trees and foliage, would be free of much of the wind, and he could go on to Clankeep screened from the worst of the weather.

See?

When he's not just waking up from a weird cryptic dream that's haunted him all his life, the dude seems very rational. I feel like maybe Brennan and Aileen are worried about nothing.

So we get some pages of Aidan trying to guide his horse through the bad weather. It's a nice bit, but not all that useful to excerpt. Basically, he's patient and reasonable and things only get exciting at the cliffhanger, when the gelding goes off course and a tree branch ends up knocking Aidan out of his saddle.

Oops.