Curse of the Mistwraith - Chapter Two - Sentence

[kalinara]

So last time we met our main characters. A set of adversarial half-brothers, one "beautiful enough to make maidens weep", possessed of charm and grace. The other is...well...kind of an asshole. And about to be given over to a very vengeful enemy. Oops.

This chapter is called "Sentence", so that should be fun.



As we rejoin the story, the ship, Briane, is making port in Port Royal, which is the uncreatively named capitol city of Amroth.

They're very well received. The nobles are cheering. And the first officer apparently got himself rewarded with a dukedom! Good for him! Meanwhile, outside, angry crowds are gathering.

The king is considerate, sending his royal guard out to ensure his prisoner's safe travel. His motives are pure:

‘The bastard sorcerer is mine to break,’ said the king.

Purely something, anyway.

For his part, Arithon is still drugged up and has no idea any of this is going on. He's given considerably more impressive bindings: riveted cuffs and steel chain, without locks that could be manipulated by magecraft. Seems a bit overkill really, but then the guy won't be drugged up forever. Though apparently it has been two fortnights. Eek.

But now, he's waking up. Thirsty, aching, as one tends to be after a very long medicinal coma. He's also not really able to concentrate, though he does realize that something's wrong.

He's trying to concentrate. Apparently "Even small tricks of illusion required perfect integration of body and mind: a sorcerer held influence only over forces of lesser self-awareness."

Interesting. Anyway, Arithon's not having a very easy time of it, and he tries to figure out what happened. I rather like this bit:

The air smelled stale, damp, salt-sour as flats at ebb-tide. His eyes showed him vistas of blank darkness. Unable to pair either circumstance with logic, Arithon emptied his mind, compelled himself to solve his inner turmoil first. Step by step like a novice, he cut himself adrift from physical sensation. Discomfort made concentration difficult. After an interval he managed to align his mental awareness; though the exercise took an appalling amount of effort, at last he summoned mastery enough to pursue the reason.

So he realizes, after some observation, that he's in irons. That snaps him out of the fugue, and his memory comes back. That whole plan to try to get someone to kill him kinda failed. Shit.

I love this bit too:

Arithon stilled his anger, amazed that so simple an exercise sapped his whole will to complete. Enemies had forced him to live. He dared not allow them liberty to unravel his mind with drug madness. As a mage and a master, his responsibilities were uncompromising: the dangerous chance that his powers might be turned toward destruction must never for an instant be left to risk. Rauven’s training provided knowledge of what steps he must complete, even as the self-possession that remained to him continued irretrievably to unravel. Already the air against his skin seared his nerves to agony. His stomach clenched with nausea, and his lips stung, salty with sweat. The stress to his physical senses had him pressed already to the wretched edge of tolerance; experienced as he was with the narcotics and simples used to augment prescience, for this onslaught, he had no space at all to prepare.

You are SO melodramatic, dude.

Then:

Slowly, carefully, Arithon eased himself onto his back. Movement made him retch miserably. Tears spilled down his temples and his breath came in jerks. The attack subsided slowly, left his head whirling like an oil compass teased by a magnet. Steady, he thought, then willed himself to belief. Unless he maintained strict mental isolation from the bodily torment of drug withdrawal, he could neither track nor transmute the poison’s dissolution. Should he once lose his grip on self-discipline, he would drown in reasonless, animal suffering, perhaps never to recover.

We've all had mornings like that, I'd reckon.

Anyway, we get to some disorientation here. The guy's in and out of consciousness, which means alternating between feeling physically miserable and having some nice, character-enlightening flashbacks. We all could use more backstory, right?

So we get a bit more of Arithon's biography: Arithon wasn't just a mage apprentice, apparently. They raised him from birth.  (They don't go into detailed explanation here, but we'll get the full version of events eventually.  IIRC: the queen stayed with the pirate king for about a year, then figured her presence was making the war even worse, went home to Rauven, gave birth, and died not long after.)  His first real contact with his father was five years ago, when Avar sent word to the high mage. He didn't have an heir and wants to name Arithon.

Arithon leaps at the idea, exclaiming that he'll go to Karthan and use magic to "free the waters beneath the sand and help the land become green again. With grain growing in the fields, the need for piracy and bloodshed will be ended. Then s’Ffalenn and s’Ilessid can stop their feuding."

Aw. It's a nice idea, kid, but it's probably not going to work. His grandfather kind of tries to gently say as much: Arithon's talents are "music and sorcery" which are things that a king is not going to have time for. His life will belong wholly to his subjects.

We also get an approximate age for Arithon here, as it's noted that he kneels before the high mage to "renounce the home he had known and loved for twenty years." So he's about twenty-five now. (Lysaer then is twenty-eight or twenty-nine.)

Anyway, Arithon doesn't see how he can stay at Rauven, happily studying music and books, when his people "must send husbands and sons to kill for bare sustenance?" He thinks he can bring Karthan hope for peace.

The present day version is basically yelling at the flashback version, from the vantage point of being drugged up in a prison cell, waiting for his mother's ex-husband to torture him to death. ("Would you suffer s'Ilessid vengeance for your mother's broken marriage vows?")

The memories move forward. Arithon gets to watch himself accept his father's blessing, and more than that, his ancestral sword. It certainly sounds swanky: smoke-dark steel with silver inscriptions twining the length of the blade. Young(er) and stupid(er) Arithon then lays the sword at his grandfather's feet, declaring that it will stay at Rauven to seal his pledge to restore peace.

In a nice bit, we're told that he was worried about his dad's reaction, but actually his dad "smiled upon his heir with something more than approval" and the Karthan captains cheered. Aw.

There are, of course, ominous parting words from his grandfather, which basically amount to saying that he's not going to be able to be a bard or sorcerer, and he's going to have to concentrate on being a King.

This moves forward. We see "Karthan's wretched poverty" and the "silent anguish of the widows when the casualty lists were read". And we learn more about how the battle came about. Basically, the transformation of the land was happening too slowly. They'd embarked on one last voyage to beg Rauven for another mage. And well...

Tortured by cruel remorse, Arithon smelled blood and murder on his flesh. He screamed aloud within the confines of his cell, while the battle that had claimed his father’s life and his own freedom opened like a wound in his mind. Sucked into a vortex of violence, cut by a guilt that seared him blind, Arithon screamed again. ‘I used sorcery, as Ath is my witness. But never directly to murder. Not even to spare my liege lord.’

Drugs are bad, y'all.

The guards come, because that's what you do when a prisoner is screaming deliriously. At least when it's a prisoner that your King wants to make sure survives. They realize he's feverish and call a healer. Arithon is aware enough to remember that he really would rather not be healthy right now and tries to fight free and gets kicked in the head for his trouble.

So now we've gotten more of the big picture. The dreaded Master of Shadows is a university-aged idealist. The pirates are starving and desperate. That said, one has to wonder why it took so long to go to Rauven for help. But maybe it never seemed to be a viable option until Queen Talera decided to leave the King for a pirate.

The scene shifts to a banquet, which is meant to "commemorate the demise of the last s'Ffalenn", and is quite extravagant. One nice touch is that he's provided bottles of vintage wine, one for each s'Ilessid that died at the hands of a s'Ffalenn. Apparently, he's also included second and third cousins, and prominent citizens, so the tally after SEVEN GENERATIONS is considerable.

The mood is spoiled when the royal healer comes in to inform the King about his prisoner's health. It's an uneasy task, because the King very much comes across as a "kill the messenger" sort. The healer doesn't mention, though I am delighted to know that it took six soldiers to hold Arithon still for the examination (of course). He does mention that the guy's life is in danger, given that he's a walking overdose.

The King is pissed, so that's when Lysaer steps in. (of course.) He states that the ship's healer was acting under protest, and it was his orders that caused this.

That is a sufficient distraction at least, as the King is now mad at him, basically calling him an "insolent puppy!" and asking how he dares presume to "cosset an enemy whose birth is a slight to the kingdom's honor".

Lysaer is reasonable in his explanation: Arithon's a sorcerer and without the drugs, they probably wouldn't have been able to confine him. He wins over the crowd, and "more than one royal advisor regard[s] the prince with admiration".

Hee. Of course they do.

Please don't think my "of course" commentary is meant as a complaint. No, I'm actually rather tickled that these characters are so vividly described in just one chapter that I can already roll my eyes at their consistent ridiculousness.

The King asks what needs to be done to keep the prisoner alive. The healer explains that the prognosis is bad. Either he stays drugged and wastes away, or he stops, and suffers through agonizing withdrawal that will probably drive him insane.

The King LIKES that part. Especially when he confirms that Arithon will be aware of the suffering. So he shows some lenience:

‘Arithon is to be brought before my council in a fortnight’s time, cured of addiction to the drug. You are commanded to use every skill you possess to preserve his mind intact. Success will reward you with one hundred coin weight in gold.’ The king plucked a grape from the bowl by his elbow and thoroughly mashed it with his teeth. ‘But if Arithon dies or loses sanity, your life, and the life of Briane’s healer shall be forfeit.’

He really is a prince of a guy, isn't he?

Lysaer tries to intercede, but "for the first time in living memory, the king spurned his firstborn son". He leads a toast to the ruin of s'Ffalenn instead.

So now, back to the healer, who is in a rough spot. There's not a whole lot they can do to actually deal with the withdrawal, aside from just general: keep him warm, restrain him when he thrashes, et cetera.

In the morning, the King himself comes to visit. (Apparently showing no trace of the revelry of the night before.) He...well...he's a little creepy about all this:

Careless of the courtesy, the king stopped beside the pallet and hungrily drank in details. The bastard was not what he had expected. For a man born to the sword, the hands which lay limp on the coverlet seemed much too narrow and fine.

The healer tries to urge him away, but the king isn't interested in his prisoner's comfort, and even yanks the blankets off, "exposing his enemy to plain view."  

Arithon's actually awake though. And takes this moment to be an asshole. Of course.

Arithon drew a careful breath. Then he smiled also and said, ‘The horns my mother left are galling, I’m told. Have you come down to gore, or to gloat?’

The king takes this reference to his wife's infidelity with all the grace expected. He punches a convalescent dude in the face.

Further violence is curtailed though, when Arithon falls into another fit.

Avid as a jealous lover, the king watched the tremors begin. He lingered until Arithon drew a rattling breath and cried out in the extremity of agony. But his words were spoken in the old tongue, forgotten except at Rauven. Cheated of satisfaction, the king released the blanket. Wool slithered into a heap and veiled his enemy’s mindless wretchedness.

1) Everyone's a little too calm about the fact that the king is seriously getting off on this.

2) And of course, Arithon's enough of a asshole to make sure that when he has to cry out in pain, he does it in a language that the King doesn't understand. Of course.

The king leaves, and the healer prepares more medication. But Arithon, who is awake after all, waves it away. He claims he gave the King a line from a very bad play, before falling asleep.  The healer isn't sure he believes him though, but the bravado is impressive.

The healer keeps sitting with him though, prepared for when the withdrawal symptoms get really bad. And they do. When Arithon starts screaming, the healer helps muffle it under bed linen, "with the gentleness he might have shown a son" Aw. Later, he compliments him, claiming he has a "will like steel wire".

So the next morning, we're told that Arithon is past the worst of it. "In full command of his wits" (of course). However, while his "raw, determined courage won him the healer's devoted admiration", he's still physically kind of a mess.

After he has some real sleep, the healer wants to postpone telling the king until absolutely necessary, to give him more time to recover.

Wow. He really does love this guy, doesn't he? That sounds fucking dangerous.

Arithon points that out. He also points out that he'll only suffer as long as his body and mind hold out, so maybe it's better to deal with this now.

The healer rose sharply. Unable to speak, he touched Arithon’s thin shoulder in sympathy. Then he left to seek audience with the king. All along he had expected to regret his dealings with the Master of Shadow; but never until the end had he guessed he might suffer out of pity.

Aw.

This might be another contrast. Lysaer wins the hearts of people by being brave, forthright and considerate. Arithon wins the hearts of people by being too much of an asshole to keel over and die.

Which leads us, finally, to the day of trial. We get some lovely description of the marble pillars council hall and the resplendent courtiers and officials. Lysaer gets to be our viewpoint character this segment, and of course, we get more description of Arithon:

Lysaer studied the Master of Shadow with rapt attention and a turmoil of mixed emotions. The drug had left Arithon with a deceptive air of fragility. The peasant’s tunic which replaced his torn cotton draped loosely over gaunt shoulders. Whittled down to its framework of bone, his face bore a withdrawn expression, as if the chains which dragged at wrists and ankles were no inconvenience. His graceless stride betrayed otherwise; but the hissed insults from the galleries failed to raise any response. As prisoner and escort reached the foot of the dais, Lysaer was struck by an infuriating oddity. After all this s’Ffalenn sorcerer had done to avoid his present predicament, he showed no flicker of apprehension.

We know who Ms. Wurts's favorite is. Sorry Lysaer. Everyone ELSE loves you best though. Except that healer guy with the thing for ornery assholes.  And your grandfather.

The King tells Arithon to kneel, and we're told he yearned thirty years for this moment. Which muddies up the timeline a little for me. I THINK it's supposed to mean that he's yearned thirty years for A s'Ffalenn to be at his mercy, not Arithon specifically. But it's worded a little unclearly.

Arithon doesn't kneel right away. The king gestures to a halberdier who is about to knock him over. THAT is when Arithon chooses to kneel, and the halberd blow passes over his head, overbalancing the Halberdier and sending him falling. Hah. Asshole.

Then, he basically insults the king, suggesting that he "dare not face [him] without fetters." Of course he does.

The king responds with a smile and offers the halberdier leave to "avenge himself". Which he does, hitting his unarmed prisoner and sending him face first into the ground.

Lysaer, who is the only one here with any sort of working brain, is perturbed by Arithon's lack of reaction. The king on the other hand sees fit to get into a battle of wits with a professional asshole.

Though going by Arithon's dreams earlier, the king's comment about Arithon having sold his talents for the massacre of s'Ilessid seamen, when Lysaer has never used HIS magic against the Karthans, probably did hit a nerve.  It definitely does for Lysaer, who angrily acknowledges to himself that it wasn't because of scruple that he didn't get involved in the fighting. Rauven refused to train him.  (Presumably to avoid giving the King of Amroth a powerful weapon.)

There's more battle of wills between the king and the prisoner. This time, Arithon refuses to say anything at all. Which of course leads to the king ordering his halberdiers to jog his memory. I feel like the downside to being a professional asshole is that you probably get hit. A lot.

(The guards did avoid crippling damage. After all, the King still wants to play.)

Arithon moves onto his next stage of provocation, which is to insult the king. A lot. The king doesn't take kindly to being called "impotent, weak, and a fool."

Lysaer, watching, finally puts a few things together. First: Arithon's lack of reaction would imply that, like many mages, Arithon is able to keep himself from feeling pain. The second: that if the king, or his enraged guards, managed to kill Arithon here, the only person who could possibly be blamed or punished for it is the king himself.

Lysaer is "shamed to find himself alone with the decency for regret" and is about to leave when...something happens.

A shadow appeared in the empty air. The blot darkened, then resolved into the image of a woman robed in the deep purple and grey worn by the Rauven sorcerers. With a horrible twist, Lysaer made out the fair features of his mother under the cowled hood. If Arithon chose to repeat his tactics from the sail-hold in full public view of the court, his malice had passed beyond limit. Alarmed for the integrity of the king, and this time in command enough to remember that his gift of light could banish such shadows, the crown prince reversed his retreat and shoved through the press of stupefied courtiers. Yet his dash for the throne was obstructed.

It's a sorcerer's sending. And not Arithon's. She doesn't respond to him at all. She DOES however, respond to the King. She brings word from Rauven, warning the king to treat both of her sons as one.

The king stopped breathing. His florid features paled against the gold-stitched hanging at his back, and his ringed hands tightened into fists. He ignored the sceptre offered by the page as if the subjects who crowded his hall had suddenly ceased to exist. At length, his chest heaved and he replied, ‘What does Rauven threaten if I refuse?’

The queen returned the quiet, secretive smile which even now haunted her husband’s dreams at night. ‘You should learn regret, my liege. Kill Arithon, and you murder Lysaer. Maim him, and you cripple your own heir likewise.’

I feel like Arithon's assholishness might well be hereditary. And not from his dad's side.

Anyway, Lysaer points out that this could just be a trick. But the King ignores him. Instead, he decides to pass sentence: exile. "Through the Gate on the isle of Worldsend."

The gate, by the way, is a magic sort of gate and leads somewhere else entirely. No one's ever returned, and even the Rauven sorcerers don't know what it means. Lysaer is a little worried about this, but the King is jovial. He's holding up his side of the bargain: Arithon won't be harmed. He just won't be here anymore.

We move into a new subsection, called "Prelude".

Now we're with the high mage on Rauven, who is being informed of Arithon's sentence. But apparently, what the high mage doesn't know is that someone else's listening.

And indeed, we shift to "a world of fog-bound skies", where a sorcerer named Sethvir of the Fellowship happens to overhear it. Apparently it's one of thousands that intrude on his thoughts hourly. But that one caught his attention.

Now, we've only just met these characters, but I feel comfortable saying this Sethvir seems magnitudes more powerful than Arithon or his grandfather, especially since "[p]ower great enough to shatter mountains" answers this guy, and bridges "the unimaginable gulf between worlds".

He sees a mage, with a sword of unearthly beauty. It's the one from Arithon's flashback: dark steel, silver inlay, and a spindle of green light in a gem at the hilt. Sethvir apparently recognizes that sword, and he "whooped like a boy" to see it.

We get some backstory. Apparently, "in the time before the Mistwraith's curse", a prince carried that sword through the "Worldsend Gates", fleeing a rebellion with three other princes. The gates were sealed after that, because of "the Mistwraith's conquest" and "the promise of a madman's prophecy."

Sethvir also thinks the mage seems familiar. He had, apparently, trained that mage's ancestor in the use of magic. Yay? It's all very exciting and cryptic. Which takes us into the next subsection "Interlude".

Here, we meet two characters: Asandir of the Fellowship of the Seven. Presumably an acquaintance of this Sethvir fellow. And "Dakar the Mad Prophet." They seem to have some idea of what Sethvir was going on about. Dakar immediately, and drunkenly, bets that "the prince who returns" will be s'Ilessid.

Dakar apparently is the one who made "the West Gate Prophecy" to begin with, and it references an ocean world, Dascen Elur and the return of exiled princes.

Asandir notes that they've sensed the opening of the Worldsend Gate out of Dascan Elur, and that if the prince IS on his way, he's currently suffering the "ninety and nine discomforts of the Red Desert". If he survives, they have five days to get to the West Gate.

That sounds fun.

The last segment of the chapter is called "Three Worlds". And like the end of the first chapter, it gives a one second glimpse into a few places.

1. Amroth Castle, where the king celebrates his enemy's exile but "fails to notice the absence of his own heir until too late" (oops)

2. A fountain in a dusty hollow between dunes of rust-colored sand.

3. An enchantress watching a sorcerer and a prophet riding with haste.

And thus, the chapter ends.

Comments

[copperfyre]

Honestly there wasn't a lot of shirtless suffering, but fun anyway.

It's nice when you review things I feel like I might actually want to read :D

[kalinara]

Actually, rereading it, I think most of the suffering WAS shirtless. He just ended up wearing the shirt for the audience with the King at the end. :-D

It IS fun reviewing something that I'm actually enjoying. I should do that more often!