Song of Homana - Part One - Chapter Sixteen

[kalinara]

So last time, Finn dragged himself out of his sickbed to drag Carillon's idiot ass, and we learned that Tourmaline and Carillon have the same taste in men.

This time, well, let's see:



So we rejoin Carillon as he's sitting on a campstool, with his legs spread, Cheysuli sword resting across his thighs. I'm trying not to read into that. In the distance, he hears Lachlan singing and we get some lyrics for once:

Come, lady, and sit down beside me,
settle your skirts in the hollowed green hills
and hear of my song
for I am a harper
and one who would give of himself
to you.

...it's a little on the nose for my taste, but given that Lachlan is a scary death priest, I can see why people might not offer constructive criticism.

Rowan is there too. Apparently, he'd spent hours honing and cleaning Carillon's sword. Ahem. Anyway, this feels a bit weird for Carillon because he'd gotten used to tending his own weapon in Caledon (There's only one weapon that Finn is interested in tending, I bet), but there are certain expectations of a Homanan King, which includes having men tend to his belongings.

This was the first time that Carillon trusted his sword to someone else though, which is a pretty big compliment to Rowan. Carillon is pleased with the work and says Rowan should have been an arms-master.

“I prefer being a captain,” he said, “so long as it is you I serve.”

I think someone has a crush.

Carillon points out that he's not a god, and endearingly, Rowan says he knows that (Carillon notes that some of his awe had faded), but given the choice he would continue to serve Carillon. Aw.

Lachlan must be a hell of a singer with these crap lyrics:

Come, lady, and hear of my harp;
I will sing for you, play for you,
wait for you, pray for you
to say you love me, too…
as much as I love you.

Anyway, they're interrupted by a message from Bellam. He's challenging Carillon to a proper battle: two armies in the field, and an end to "pointless skirmishes". That seems like a fool's bargain to me. Carillon likes this though, because they've clearly undermined his grip if he wants to settle it at last. He includes some insults and suggests that Carillon only fights skirmishes because he's incapable of commanding an army. The messenger is pretty enthusiastic about fighting, and Carillon agrees.

I honestly think you should just stick with skirmishes, but I'm not a heroic king type. So Carillon declares that they feast tonight and plan tomorrow.

We hear more terrible lyrics, that lament that the lady isn't coming. I'm not posting these. Apparently it's been eight weeks since Carillon sent Tourmaline to the keep, and Lachlan's been avoiding confidences.

Finn's back though, dramatically appearing at night at the doorflap of Carillon's tent.

I sat up, awake at once—for I had hardly slept in the knowledge I would face Bellam at last—and lighted my single candle. I looked at Finn and frowned. Of a sudden he was alien to me, eerie in his intensity.

You know, Carillon. You've GOT a room now.

But Finn has other ideas. He tells Carillon to bring his sword. He leads Carillon to a circle of five smooth stones outside of camp. And this is interesting, and not just because they're very gay:

Five smooth stones, set in a careful circle. He smiled and knelt, touching each stone with a fingertip as if he counted, or made himself known to all five. He said something under his breath, some unknown sentence; the Old Tongue, and more obscure than usual. This was not the Finn I knew.

Kneeling, he glanced up. Up and up, until he tipped back his head. It was the sky he stared at, the black night sky with its carpet of shining stars, and the wind blew his hair from his face. I saw again the livid scar as it snaked across cheek and jaw, but I also saw something more. I saw a man gone out of himself to some place far beyond.

“Ja’hai,” he said. “Ja’hai, cheysu, Mujhar.”

They look up and see the stars.

Five of them. In a circle. Like a torque around a woman’s neck. A moment before they had been five among many, lost in the brilliance of thousands, and now they stood apart.

Finn touched each stone again with a gentle fingertip. Then he placed one palm flat against the earth as if he gave—or sought—a blessing, and touched the other hand to his heart.

“Trust me.” I realized this time he spoke to me.

It took me a moment to answer. The very stillness made me hesitate. “When have I not trusted you?”

“Trust me.” I saw the blackness of his eyes, swollen in the darkness.

I swallowed down my foreboding. “Freely. My life is yours.”

This is both fascinatingly mystical and pretty gay. I'm enjoying it.

(Finn's response, by the way, is "Your life has ever been mine".)

Finn discusses the Carillon's role in the prophecy. And this much less annoying than when we talk about Alix's role, because Carillon actually gets to do something. Finn tells him, if he dies tomorrow, or within a week in battle, then Homana and the Cheysuli die with him.

And...

There was no answering smile. “No bargain,” he said. “They do not bargain with men. They offer; men take, or men refuse. Men all too often refuse.” He set one hand against the ground and thrust himself to his feet. The earring winked in the moonlight. “What I tell you this night is not what men prefer to hear, particularly kings. But I tell you because of what we have shared together…and because it will make a difference.”

... You know outdoors sex is fine too. You could do that.

Finn then discusses the sword: Hale's sword. It was said that it was made for a Mujhar, but the Cheysuli understand that differently. They understand that it's meant for a Cheysuli Mujhar.

Carillon notes that Duncan's said this before. Finn goes back to the prophecy. Basically, the sword is waiting for the hand that it's meant for. Carillon is carrying it, and serving it well, but Finn believes that "time draws near when it will live in another man's hands."

Carillon insists that it will be his son's. Finn says "perhaps so," and tells Carillon to put down the sword. Carillon asks if Finn intends to take it, but Finn says that when it's given over to the person it's meant for, it will be freely given.

I bent. I set the sword upon the ground, and then I rose again. It lay gleaming in the moonlight: gold and silver and crimson.

“Your knife,” Finn said.

And so he disarmed me. I stood naked and alone, for all I had a warrior and wolf before me, and waited for the answers. I thought there might be none; Finn only rarely divulged what was in his mind, and this night I thought it unlikely I would get anything from him. I waited.

So are you guys really going to fuck in this field, because I'm not objecting.

Instead it's an arcane ritual though. Finn cuts Carillon's wrist, and it sounds kind of kinky:

I had forgotten his strength, his bestial determination that puts all my size to shame. He held me as easily as a father holds a child, ignoring my muttered protest. He forced my arm down and held it still, and then he loosened his fingers to let the blood well free and fast.

Finn spills the blood into the circle of stones and orders Carillon to kneel. This ritual is rather fascinating:

He took up my sword from the ground and stood before me. “We must make this yours, for a time,” he said gently. “We will borrow it from the gods. For tomorrow, for Homana…you must have a little magic.” He pointed at the bloodied soil. “The blood of the man; the flesh of the earth. United in one purpose—” He thrust the sword downward until the blade bit into the earth, sliding in as if he sheathed it; until the hilt stood level with my face as I knelt. The clean, shining hilt with its ruby eye set so firmly in the pommel. “Put your hand upon it.”

Instinctively I knew which hand. My left, with its bloody glove.

I touched the hilt. I touched the rampant lion. I touched the red eye with the red of my blood, and closed my hand upon it.

The blood flowed down the hilt to the crosspiece and then down upon the blade. The runes filled up, red-black in the silver moonlight, until they spilled over. I saw the scarlet ribbon run down and down to touch the earth where it merged with the blood-dampened soil, and the ruby began to glow.
It filled my eyes with crimson fire, blinding me to the world. No more Finn, no more me…only incarnadine fire.

“Ja’hai,” Finn whispered unevenly. “Ja’hai, cheysu, Mujhar…”

I'm excerpting a bit more than usual but I find this fascinating. Shapechangers gave lip service to the gods and the prophecy, but there was never a real sense of religion or faith. It basically just sounded like an excuse for the characters to do whatever the fuck they wanted.

Song does a lot better with this. Exhibit above.

Anyway, the stars apparently start moving and Finn pulls Carillon to his feet, and uses the earth magic to heal the the cut. Carillon asks about the stars, and Finn says that it's only rocks. He gives them to Carillon, who tells us that he did not drop them to the ground. He kept them instead.

Does every ritual between these two have to read like it ends in a marriage?

Take a fucking hint.

So the next morning, we find ourselves on the battlefield. Rowan plants the banner of Homana (a black lion) into the ground, and Carillon studies his kind of ramshackle army, comparing the mismatched armor to Bellam's grandeur. His army has heart and determination. The chapter ends with Carillon raising his sword and shouting a battle cry.

I really do like the chapters that go into Cheysuli ritual. And I especially like chapters that don't involve Carillon being obsessed with an unwilling woman. Funny how that works.