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i_read_whatSo last time, in Curse of the Mistwraith, we followed two idiot brothers through a desert. Along the way, we had a lot of really bad decisions, including attempted murder and the accidental acquisition of a magical lifespan. Now, finally, they've made it through another gate, to a brand new destination.
We start this chapter on the other side of the "West Gate", as it ripples and spits out two royal idiots. Lysaer can't not be a beautiful idiot though, even when unconscious: "Blond hair gleamed like lost gold through the cross-hatched fronds of wet bracken".
Dakar, the "Mad Prophet", we met briefly a few chapters ago, is delighted.
‘S’Ilessid!’ Dakar’s exuberance shook raindrops from the pine boughs overhead as he swooped like an ungainly brown vulture to claim his prize.
The other fellow, Asandir, urges caution. They don't know if they're hurt. We get some description:
Dirty, thin and marked by cruel hardship, two young men lay sprawled on the ground unconscious. One fair-skinned profile revealed s’Ilessid descent. Though the other face was blurred by tangled hair and a dark stubble of beard, Asandir saw enough to guess the eyes, when they opened, would be green.
It's funny how often fantasy genetics relies on some specific hair and eye color being a super-dominant gene. No recessives here. Ever.
Anyway, the brothers aren't waking up, so Asandir takes a quick magic look into the mind of the nearest one and is quite alarmed. They've been "touched by the shadows of Mearth" and need to be brought to shelter at once.
It's interesting that Asandir, at least, has a very clear knowledge of what's on the other side of the gate.
So we're told that Asandir had "requisitioned" a woodcutter's cottage the day before. But the location is still inconvenient: apparently men shun places of power like this, so it's a good seven hours' ride away.
Thanks to Dakar, we learn a bit more about what he and Asandir know:
Dakar cursed the dark. Branches clawed him, wrist and knee, as his horse shouldered through trackless wilds. Rain splashed down his collar. Though chilled to the marrow, the Mad Prophet refrained from complaint, even though his cloak had been lent to another. The five-hundred-year hope of all Athera rested with the unconscious man in his arms. The s’Ilessid prince he sheltered was heir to the throne of Tysan, yet not so much as a hearthfire would welcome his arrival to the kingdom he should rule. The woodcutter was away to West End for the autumn fair; his dwelling lay vacant and dark.
Aw, there you go, Lysaer. Your angst about having a prince's training but no way to use it was too early. Don't worry, both you and Arithon get to fail upward here. Because even in fantasy, it pays to be a rich white dude.
So they get the princes settled. Dakar wants to know why Asandir didn't start with the Prince of Tysan (Lysaer). Asandir says that he chose according to need. The narrative helpfully elaborates: Tattered cloth parted under his hands, revealing a chest marred across by an ugly scab. Older weals glistened by flamelight, and scarred wrists showed evidence of recent and brutal captivity.
So apparently the healing powers of the spring are limited. Interesting.
Dakar assumes Arithon is an outcast or criminal to have "been punished like that", but Asandir knows better. For his part, Dakar checks Lysaer and is relieved to see that he'd "suffered nothing worse tha desert exposure". He gets the guy settled in. He still doesn't understand why Asandir "wasted time with a servant when the West Gate Prophecy in all probability stood completed by the s'Ilessid heir in the other room." He asks if Arithon is truly worth it.
Of course he is! He's the author's favorite! But also, I'd like to think that if Arithon genuinely WERE a servant, it'd be worthwhile to save his life, dude.
Asandir points out Arithon's sword, which Dakar is puzzled by, wondering why a peasant would carry "a blade wrought by Paravian hands." Asandir asks him why indeed, and we get our first introduction to what a Paravian is:
Basically, the Paravians are three races (unicorns, centaurs, and "sun children") who vanished when the Mistwraith started plaguing the world. Dakar gets annoyed at Asandir's opaqueness and asks if he can give him a straight answer, "just once in a century."
It's interesting how much this exchange establishes about both men and their respective frustrating traits. Dakar is a man who comes in with a conclusion (his bet that the heir who arrives will be s'Ilessid), observes all signs that support that conclusion (Lysaer), and seems to overlook any real interpretation of anything outside of his theory. (Namely, the sword.)
Asandir on the other hand appears completely unwilling to just EXPLAIN things. It would have taken two seconds to go "Actually, there are two princes here", since it's pretty obvious he's figured that out. But he has to drag this out.
Dakar falls asleep, while Asandir works some magic. And we see that indeed, Asandir knows who Arithon is:
When the first reedy snore escaped the Mad Prophet’s lips, Asandir’s forbidding manner softened. His fingers smoothed black hair from a profile all too familiar, and his smile widened with amusement. ’So, our Prophet thinks you a servant, does he?’
Sadness weighted the sorcerer’s phrase, even through his humour. How had a royal son of s’Ffalenn come by the abuse so cruelly marked into youthful flesh? The sight was an offence. Dascen Elur must have changed drastically in the years since the Fellowship sealed the Worldsend Gate for the cause of Athera’s drowned sunlight.
Asandir uses magic to go into Arithon's mind: Swift, direct and deft as a surgeon’s cut, his probe should have pierced the surface layers of memory undetected by the will within. But against all expectation, the s’Ffalenn cried out. His body twisted against the sorcerer’s hold and his eyes opened blindly.
I'm rather amused that even in a magic coma, Arithon's first instinct is "fuck you". Asandir basically bespells him back to sleep and processes the fact that Arithon has had magical training. And he's pretty strong (of course), if his mental barriers are in place even while unconscious. Asandir believes he'll have to break through to heal the damage from Mearth, and because both Arithon and Lysaer are "the hope of an age".
So he goes back in. He learns Arithon's name from his mental defenses and tells us "whoever had named this prince had known what they were about, for the Paravian root of meaning was 'forger', not of metals but of destiny".
One of the fun bits to this series is that there's a truly massive glossary at the end of each book. And every single character's names have "paravian root words" which have significant meanings. Lysaer's name, IIRC, is something like Light and Circle or One. That's...subtle.
So there's more mental tussling, and more flowery description of Arithon's mental strength:
Taken aback, Asandir paused. This prince could not be other than mortal. Logic paralleled his initial surmise. Suffering could alter a mind, Ath knew, and Arithon had known more than any man’s share. With abrupt decision, the sorcerer pitched his second attempt with the force he would have accorded a near equal.
Resistance broke this time, but not as Asandir expected. The Master drove across his own barriers from within, as if recognition of his opponent’s strength inspired a desperate appeal for help. Through the breach stormed images poisonously barbed with s’Ffalenn conscience, and also, incredibly, s’Ahelas foresight, which linked cause to consequence! yet the revelation’s enormity barely registered.
Oh course.
But also, I want to address something here. It's not really explained right now, but as the books go on, we'll learn that both brothers carry essentially an ancestral trait that's basically the combination of some sort of weird magic genetic manipulation and magic. Lysaer has the s'Ilessid trait of "Justice". Arithon has the s'Ffalenn trait of "Compassion." They also possess their mother's family trait though, which is farsight or foresight.
...
Let's ignore for a second how Lysaer's "justice" trait didn't have a problem with beating an unconscious man to death. Let's talk about foresight. The ability that "links cause to consequence."
...we've met two members of the s'Ahelas family so far. Talera, the Queen of Amroth. And her father, the boys' grandfather, the high mage of Rauven.
TALERA is the mental brain trust that decided to balance out her husband's desire to raise her son as a weapon, she would go to his ENEMY, get knocked up, so he ALSO had his own magic weapon child. And from what we saw of the King of Amroth, losing his wife to his enemy seems to have made his side of the feud a lot worse.
The high mage, for his part, decides that he wants to protect Arithon by linking his fate with Lysaer. And he does this, by having Lysaer thrown through the gate. It's not clear how much he knew about what was happening to Arithon, but at the very least, he should have figured out that a month in captivity wouldn't have been good for him. So he tosses in the brother who is on the other side of the fucking blood feud and who is in considerably better physical condition!
At BEST, Arithon prevails and keeps Lysaer alive and divides the food and water, which is what happened.
At WORST, Lysaer kills him. Which almost happened.
If they'd just sent the fucking care package, Arithon would have made it to Mearth on his own. He may or may not have been able to get through the shadows, but he'd have been in pretty decent physical condition and with twice as much food and water, so he'd have had time to make a strategic plan.
And recall that Lysaer "I'm going to throw the sword into my water supply" and Arithon "I'm incapable of taking an action that's not going to obviously backfire on me in the near or far future" are ALSO apparently in possession of this gift.
What I'm saying, gentlefolk, is that "foresight" is fucking BULLSHIT.
So anyway, Asandir's still in Arithon's head and we revisit the scene right before the book started:
Bound into sympathy with Arithon’s mind, the sorcerer knew a quarterdeck littered with corpses. Through a sheen of tears he watched a father’s streaked fingers worry at an arrow lodged between neck and heart. The laboured words of the dying man were nearly lost in the din of battle. ‘Son, you must fire the brigantine. Let Dharkaron take me. I should never have asked you to leave Rauven.’
We see Arithon try to reassure his father, but also feel incredible self-doubt, as he acknowledges that if he'd never left Rauven, he need never have faced the anguished choice: to withhold from misuse of master conjury, and to count that scruple’s cost in lives his unrestricted powers could have spared.
We see Avar beg Arithon to burn the ship so he can die free. Arithon protests, but we see another crewman take the torch from him and do the deed. Arithon's busy trying to staunch his dad's bleeding, but the crewman pulls him away.
‘Your father’s lost, lad. Without you, Karthan’s kingless. ’ Weeping outright, the brigantine’s quartermaster hurled him headlong over the rail into the sea.
Aw. I wonder if that's the guy we saw at the very beginning of the chapter. The one who forced the Amroth sailors to kill him.
We're told that the scene then repeats. Per Asandir, this is how the curse of Mearth works. It was originally created to protect the fountain from "meddlers" and had a geas that forces someone to relive their worst memories endlessly. This usually causes insanity. If a man is VERY tenacious, he might get by with just amnesia.
Fortunately, Asandir is a fellowship sorcerer (just like Davien, the dude who made the curse and the fountain), so he's able to break that. Then he starts sorting through Arithon's memories. "The result wrung his heart."
Um, dude, if you've broken the curse, do you really need to be sifting through the poor guy's mind?
But we get more flowery sympathy and world-building/conflict establishing:
Arithon was a man multiply gifted, a mage-trained spirit tailored by grief to abjure all desire for ruling power. Scarred by his severe s’Ffalenn conscience and haunted past healing by his mother’s s’Ahelas foresight, Arithon would never again risk the anguish of having to choose between the binding restraints of arcane knowledge and the responsibilities of true sovereignty. Asandir caught his breath in raw and terrible sympathy. Kingship was the one role Athera’s need could not spare this prince.
Descended of royal lines older than Dascen Elur’s archives, Arithon was the last living heir to the High Kingship of Rathain, a land divided in strife since the Mistwraith had drowned the sky. Although Arithon’s case begged mercy, Asandir had known the separate sorrows of generations whose hopes had endured for the day their liege lord would return through West Gate. That the s’Ffalenn prince who arrived might find his crown intolerable seemed tragic beyond imagining.
So Lysaer's the heir of Tysan and Arithon's the heir of Rathain. Kingdoms for all! Lysaer would probably be on board with this. Arithon will be less than enthused.
But it has to happen. For some reason. "For the sake of the balance of an age". Asandir is PRETTY sure Arithon's not going to want anything to do with a second crown, given how the first one ended. And between his nifty shadow trick and his mage training, Asandir thinks he might be able to get out of it.
We're told that what happens next is motivated by pity. Asandir decides that If he could not release this prince from kingship, he might at least grant peace of mind and a chance for enlightened acceptance. But I wonder if he's not motivated more by making sure Arithon doesn't bolt as soon as he figures out what's going on.
He uses magic to put a block in Arithon's memories, specifically the links of association which made kingship incompatible with magecraft. It's supposed to be temporary, to "spare" Arithon "full awareness of a fate he would find untenable util he could be offered the guidance to manage his gifts by the Fellowship of Seven."
...dude. Really? Because this reads like "we don't want him running away until we can put massive amounts of pressure on him."
But anyway, he carries Arithon into the other room and then goes to tend Lysaer.
We don't actually see Lysaer's worst memories. Because he's not the favorite. (Actually, Wurts apparently was asked about this a lot, since she answers it in her Q&A on her website. She apparently just left Lysaer's part out because she thought a) Arithon's trauma would be more dramatic, since Lysaer's had a pretty calm life before getting shoved into a stargate and b) she didn't want to be repetitive. Fair enough.)
The scene shifts to Dakar waking up from his nap. He grabs some food and meets up with a very upset Asandir, who complains about Dakar's prophecy and its tangled result.
For his part, Dakar wants to know why a serf is carrying a Paravian sword. Asandir STILL won't answer a straightforward question. Instead, he tells Dakar to look at the sword. And Dakar does, recognizes it as Alithiel, "one of the twelve swords forged at Isaer from the cinder of a fallen star."
And Asandir FINALLY tells him that Arithon is "Teir's'Ffalenn." (We're helpfully told that Teir translates to successor/heir.) Dakar thinks this disproves his prophecy, but Asandir clarifies that no, his prophecy is SUPER CORRECT.
‘You predicted the Mistwraith’s bane, surely enough, but only through an aberration of every law designated by the Major Balance.’ Asandir looked up, bleak as spring frost. ‘Our princes are half-brothers through s’Ahelas on the distaff side. The affinity for power Sethvir once nurtured in that line has evolved unselectively on Dascen Elur, to the point where direct elemental mastery was granted to unborn children, all for a bride’s dowry.’
Foresight!
Dakar is amazed, and we find out that he is the sworn "spellbinder" to Asandir, which seems to be a kind of apprentice. And even now, he's not capable of elemental mastery. So this is a big deal.
While they talk, Dakar gets an "uneasy, hollow feeling", and we're told that often precedes a prophecy. He jumps to his feet, dropping the sword.
Asandir says something interesting here, when Dakar asks if they have any other choice:
‘No.’ Asandir lifted the sword. Emerald light spiked his knuckles as he restored the blade to the sheath. ‘Man’s meddling created the Mistwraith. By the tenets of the Major Balance, mortal hands must achieve its defeat.’
Does this mean that the Fellowship doesn't count as mortal? Are they like Gandalf?
So anyway, our scene shifts now to Arithon, waking up in an unfamiliar room. Lysaer's on an adjacent cot. Clothing has been provided, which sets off Arithon's suspicions. He also seems to have some recollection of Asandir fixing his mind, at least he remembers power "greater than any he had ever known". We're told that he dresses swiftly in clothes too large for his thin frame.
Lysaer wakes up at this point. Arithon fills him in on the tiny bit that he knows: their host is a sorcerer more powerful than anyone on Dascen Elur. He urges Lysaer to act carefully.
This is interesting though:
Naked unless he accepted the clothing at his feet, Lysaer battled his pride. Suspicious of sorcerers and bereft of kingdom and inheritance, he misliked the thought he must rely on charity and a former enemy’s judgement. ‘What do you suggest?’
FORMER enemy? Huh. Lysaer really has changed his perceptive since almost beating his brother to death in a desert. And genuinely asking for advice.
Arithon, for his part, tries to "ease the damage tactless handling had created". I'm not sure what that means, but he recites a maxim about how power without wisdom eventually destroys itself, and their host is immeasurably old. So they can try to trust him.
He DOES caution Lysaer to maintain his manners until our host reveals a motive.
This is interesting too:
Lysaer paused, half-clad. ‘I hear you.’ The glare he turned upon his half-brother all but made the s’Ffalenn flinch, so clearly did the look recall the unpleasantness of Amroth’s council chamber. A moment passed, charged with tension. Then the prince swore softly and some of the anger left him. ‘By the Wheel, I’m tired of being shoved in beyond my depth!’
Not Lysaer's frustration. Though I sympathize. But it's interesting that Arithon sees his brother's glare and thinks of Amroth's council chamber (and the King), NOT the attempted murder in the desert. Both brothers seem to have re-evaluated their dynamic.
Arithon tries to reassure Lysaer, but inwardly thinks neither of them are going to be a match for the dude in the other room.
We get some nice description of our surroundings and the new guys:
Orange light gleamed between crudely joined panels. The Master pressed his cheek to the gap and peered into the room beyond. Stacked logs cast drifts of shadow against mud-chinked walls. Herbs hung drying from the peaked beams of the ceiling, their fragrance mingled with woodsmoke. Before the hearth, on a stool of axe-hewn fir, a short man stirred the contents of a kettle; a rumpled tunic swathed his bulging gut and his hair was a nest of elflocks.
Arithon shifted, his hands gone damp with apprehension. On the settle sat a second man, so still his presence had nearly been overlooked. Silver hair gleamed against the curve of a grindstone wheel. A log settled in the fire; light flared, broken into angles against the man’s face. Arithon glimpsed dark, jutting brows and an expression of unbreakable patience. Though lean and stamped by time, the stranger himself defied age. Touched again by the impression of power, Arithon felt his breath catch.
I've decided that in my mind, Asandir is being played by Eugene Levy.
So they go inside. Asandir greets them in Paravian, or "the old tongue" as it's known on Dascen Elur. Lysaer doesn't understand. Arithon does, and starts pretty openly freaking out. He calls Asandir Lord, thanking him for shelter. When Asandir says that he has no land or title, Arithon DROPS TO HIS KNEES and begs forgiveness! That seems a bit much.
This freaks out Lysaer and astonishes Dakar, for some reason. Asandir is bemused, but reassuring. He pulls Arithon up and starts talking in the common language so Lysaer can be included.
So they sit down for breakfast. Arithon is musing over a reference Asandir had made to a prophecy and Dakar's wager. He thinks that Dakar's intense interest implies higher stakes than gold, and it's making him nervous. He tells himself that he learned his lesson from Karthan, and he doesn't intend to sacrifice magecraft or music for duty a second time.
And then this happens: "Though sorcerer and prophet held every advantage, Arithon intended to keep the initiative, if only to cover his intent with distraction. With the food yet untouched in his bowl, he caught the sorcerer’s attention and asked the first question that sprang to mind. ‘Who is Davien?’
Dakar gasped. He froze with the ladle poised over air and broth dripped unnoticed on the clay brick of the hearth. Lysaer looked on, stiff with uncertainty, as tension mounted round his half-brother like a stormfront.
Asandir alone showed no reaction. But his answer was sharp as a rapier at guard-point. ‘Why do you ask?’
Arithon clenched his jaw. Luck had provided him opening; he had not guessed his query would rouse such a disturbed response. Though he had urged Lysaer to avoid confrontation, he recklessly snatched his chance to provoke. ‘I think you already know why I ask.’
Arithon: "These people are incredibly powerful. We should act carefully, keep our manners, and trust them."
Also Arithon: "Fuck each and every one of you."
So Asandir explains. Both he and Davien are members of the "Fellowship of Seven." Davien however is an EX-member, seeing as how he decided he wasn't a fan of the monarchy, and decided to start a war over it. This led to the high kings being overthrown, and there hasn't been true peace in the realm since. Davien chose to exile himself afterward.
Arithon pushes for more, wanting to know if he and Lysaer are promised to restore what Davien destroyed. This shocks Dakar, for some reason, but it seems like a perfectly logical question. Asandir doesn't seem surprised, but we're told that his movement "warned of ebbing tolerance".
Hey, dude. You ARE planning to use these guys to fix the world. You said so when you were invading Arithon's mind. You put mental blocks in there to make sure he wouldn't freak out about it. I feel like you can probably be more tolerant here.
Asandir now gives us the big quest of the book: there's a Mistwraith covering the world of Athera, since just after the fall of the high kings. It causes illness and has blocked out direct sunlight for five hundred years. There's a prophecy that princes from Dascen Elur will bring the means to restore sunlight and heal the land. Obviously, that's Lysaer and Arithon. He asks, italicized, if that answers Arithon?
And hilariously. Wonderfully. Arithon says "Not directly, no."
You're such a dick and I love it.
Lysaer loves it less, though. HE's the one who ends up snapping, asking Arithon if he'd learned nothing of diplomacy in Karthan.
Arithon starts to answer, and we can tell from the start of the sentence that it will probably be gloriously acidic and assholish/defiant ("The lesson Karthan taught me-") But he's interrupted as he realizes there's a gap in his mind. Suddenly, his memory of the conflict dissolves, and his emotions are quenched.
Oh...Asandir. I've spent three chapters with these idiots and even I can tell you that this isn't going to work.
And indeed, Arithon, having found a hole in his brain can't not poke it. He keels the fuck over.
Yeah. Called that.
So Arithon wakes up, and aw, Lysaer's supporting his shoulders. And Dakar is saying something about this being probably an after-effect from Mearth, indicating that Lysaer asked for an explanation. He asks if Arithon's okay! Brothers! <3
Arithon doesn't remember what happened. Asandir, possibly realizing that he's put a mental block in the mind of a professional asshole whose motto is "fuck you, fuck me, and yes, I will rip out my large intestine if it means I can strangle you with it" tells Arithon that he's got a memory gap, it isn't permanent, and he promises to explain fully when the Fellowship convenes at a place called Althain Tower.
Arithon doesn't see much of a choice here. But Asandir says that he's only asking the princes to accompany them on the journey. He outright says that they'll see the ruin caused by the Mistwraith and hopefully then be more on board with what's being asked of them.
Arithon storms out of the room. Lysaer is torn, but at Asandir's dismissal, follows Arithon. With both brothers gone, Dakar asks Asandir about the mindblock. Asandir, of COURSE, doesn't explain. He only says that he did it with excellent reason.
Dakar, of COURSE, takes this non-explanation and notes the bleak tone, and assumes that means that Asandir distrusts Arithon and he should too.
You'd think after five hundred years of companionship, Asandir would know how to manage his apprentice.
Asandir then notes that he's "seldom" seen anyone fight a mental block to unconsciousness. Hah. Of course.
Dakar then makes an interesting statement. He thinks that the brothers will come to odds. He isn't sure if that's prophecy or not. When he held the sword earlier, he started to get a premonition, but he couldn't bear the thought of five centuries of hope collapsing with bad news, so he'd dropped the sword. He doesn't want to know.
--
The next part of the chapter is called "Overview" (the first was "Mistwraith's Bane").
We join a fellow named Grithen as he plans to ambush a caravan. There's some interesting world building. Grithen is the fourteenth heir of a deposed earl. There was an uprising after the high king fell, and now there's a mayor living in the earl's castle who has apparently forgotten his origins.
We learn of the conflict between "clansmen" and the people of the towns. The clansmen were once nobility but they were overthrown. Now they live in the woods, hunted by the townfolk. (There's a very evocative line: "At seven, the murder of his two brothers on the stag spears of the mayor's hunting party stamped hatred in his heart for any man born within town walls.") Grithen wants revenge.
This looks like it'll be a very rich caravan, so Grithen is shocked when an older clansman, a man named "Lord Tashan" appears and tells him no. There's a bard in this caravan, who's a friend to the clan and protected by guest oath. When Grithen protests, he verbally smacks him down and reminds him of his duties.
Grithen agrees, but rebelliously thinks that he's going to plunder the shit of the next group that passes. (I wonder who that might be.)
--
The next part of the chapter is "Preview".
We rejoin Sethvir, the Fellowship Sorcerer we met before. He's gotten a message from Asandir. He uses that message to get a vision of Asandir, Dakar, and the brothers:
The blond prince raised one arm. Light cracked from his hand, sharp-edged as lightning. As the mist overhead billowed into confusion a black-haired companion raised darkness like a scythe and cut skyward. Fog curdled in the shadow’s deadly cold. Flurried snow danced on the breeze.
Dramatic!
He and Asandir converse. Asandir hasn't explained the brothers' heritage yet. He's worried that their "background of strife" might make trouble for the succession. Asandir explains his plans for the journey (which include the city of Erdane) and they discuss the princes a bit more.
--
Finally, we get to my favorite part of the chapter. The single sentence snapshots. This time called "Envoys".
The first one has to do with the Koriani Enchantresses we met earlier. Lirenda has suggested Elaira for an assignment, primarily because it sounds like it'll be unpleasant travelling. She'll be heading to the city of Erdane.
A raven is sent from Althain Tower to the south east.
And Asandir gets a visitation from "a bodiless Fellowship colleague" who warns that a pack of "Khadrim" have escaped.
So that was fun! See you next time!
We start this chapter on the other side of the "West Gate", as it ripples and spits out two royal idiots. Lysaer can't not be a beautiful idiot though, even when unconscious: "Blond hair gleamed like lost gold through the cross-hatched fronds of wet bracken".
Dakar, the "Mad Prophet", we met briefly a few chapters ago, is delighted.
‘S’Ilessid!’ Dakar’s exuberance shook raindrops from the pine boughs overhead as he swooped like an ungainly brown vulture to claim his prize.
The other fellow, Asandir, urges caution. They don't know if they're hurt. We get some description:
Dirty, thin and marked by cruel hardship, two young men lay sprawled on the ground unconscious. One fair-skinned profile revealed s’Ilessid descent. Though the other face was blurred by tangled hair and a dark stubble of beard, Asandir saw enough to guess the eyes, when they opened, would be green.
It's funny how often fantasy genetics relies on some specific hair and eye color being a super-dominant gene. No recessives here. Ever.
Anyway, the brothers aren't waking up, so Asandir takes a quick magic look into the mind of the nearest one and is quite alarmed. They've been "touched by the shadows of Mearth" and need to be brought to shelter at once.
It's interesting that Asandir, at least, has a very clear knowledge of what's on the other side of the gate.
So we're told that Asandir had "requisitioned" a woodcutter's cottage the day before. But the location is still inconvenient: apparently men shun places of power like this, so it's a good seven hours' ride away.
Thanks to Dakar, we learn a bit more about what he and Asandir know:
Dakar cursed the dark. Branches clawed him, wrist and knee, as his horse shouldered through trackless wilds. Rain splashed down his collar. Though chilled to the marrow, the Mad Prophet refrained from complaint, even though his cloak had been lent to another. The five-hundred-year hope of all Athera rested with the unconscious man in his arms. The s’Ilessid prince he sheltered was heir to the throne of Tysan, yet not so much as a hearthfire would welcome his arrival to the kingdom he should rule. The woodcutter was away to West End for the autumn fair; his dwelling lay vacant and dark.
Aw, there you go, Lysaer. Your angst about having a prince's training but no way to use it was too early. Don't worry, both you and Arithon get to fail upward here. Because even in fantasy, it pays to be a rich white dude.
So they get the princes settled. Dakar wants to know why Asandir didn't start with the Prince of Tysan (Lysaer). Asandir says that he chose according to need. The narrative helpfully elaborates: Tattered cloth parted under his hands, revealing a chest marred across by an ugly scab. Older weals glistened by flamelight, and scarred wrists showed evidence of recent and brutal captivity.
So apparently the healing powers of the spring are limited. Interesting.
Dakar assumes Arithon is an outcast or criminal to have "been punished like that", but Asandir knows better. For his part, Dakar checks Lysaer and is relieved to see that he'd "suffered nothing worse tha desert exposure". He gets the guy settled in. He still doesn't understand why Asandir "wasted time with a servant when the West Gate Prophecy in all probability stood completed by the s'Ilessid heir in the other room." He asks if Arithon is truly worth it.
Of course he is! He's the author's favorite! But also, I'd like to think that if Arithon genuinely WERE a servant, it'd be worthwhile to save his life, dude.
Asandir points out Arithon's sword, which Dakar is puzzled by, wondering why a peasant would carry "a blade wrought by Paravian hands." Asandir asks him why indeed, and we get our first introduction to what a Paravian is:
Basically, the Paravians are three races (unicorns, centaurs, and "sun children") who vanished when the Mistwraith started plaguing the world. Dakar gets annoyed at Asandir's opaqueness and asks if he can give him a straight answer, "just once in a century."
It's interesting how much this exchange establishes about both men and their respective frustrating traits. Dakar is a man who comes in with a conclusion (his bet that the heir who arrives will be s'Ilessid), observes all signs that support that conclusion (Lysaer), and seems to overlook any real interpretation of anything outside of his theory. (Namely, the sword.)
Asandir on the other hand appears completely unwilling to just EXPLAIN things. It would have taken two seconds to go "Actually, there are two princes here", since it's pretty obvious he's figured that out. But he has to drag this out.
Dakar falls asleep, while Asandir works some magic. And we see that indeed, Asandir knows who Arithon is:
When the first reedy snore escaped the Mad Prophet’s lips, Asandir’s forbidding manner softened. His fingers smoothed black hair from a profile all too familiar, and his smile widened with amusement. ’So, our Prophet thinks you a servant, does he?’
Sadness weighted the sorcerer’s phrase, even through his humour. How had a royal son of s’Ffalenn come by the abuse so cruelly marked into youthful flesh? The sight was an offence. Dascen Elur must have changed drastically in the years since the Fellowship sealed the Worldsend Gate for the cause of Athera’s drowned sunlight.
Asandir uses magic to go into Arithon's mind: Swift, direct and deft as a surgeon’s cut, his probe should have pierced the surface layers of memory undetected by the will within. But against all expectation, the s’Ffalenn cried out. His body twisted against the sorcerer’s hold and his eyes opened blindly.
I'm rather amused that even in a magic coma, Arithon's first instinct is "fuck you". Asandir basically bespells him back to sleep and processes the fact that Arithon has had magical training. And he's pretty strong (of course), if his mental barriers are in place even while unconscious. Asandir believes he'll have to break through to heal the damage from Mearth, and because both Arithon and Lysaer are "the hope of an age".
So he goes back in. He learns Arithon's name from his mental defenses and tells us "whoever had named this prince had known what they were about, for the Paravian root of meaning was 'forger', not of metals but of destiny".
One of the fun bits to this series is that there's a truly massive glossary at the end of each book. And every single character's names have "paravian root words" which have significant meanings. Lysaer's name, IIRC, is something like Light and Circle or One. That's...subtle.
So there's more mental tussling, and more flowery description of Arithon's mental strength:
Taken aback, Asandir paused. This prince could not be other than mortal. Logic paralleled his initial surmise. Suffering could alter a mind, Ath knew, and Arithon had known more than any man’s share. With abrupt decision, the sorcerer pitched his second attempt with the force he would have accorded a near equal.
Resistance broke this time, but not as Asandir expected. The Master drove across his own barriers from within, as if recognition of his opponent’s strength inspired a desperate appeal for help. Through the breach stormed images poisonously barbed with s’Ffalenn conscience, and also, incredibly, s’Ahelas foresight, which linked cause to consequence! yet the revelation’s enormity barely registered.
Oh course.
But also, I want to address something here. It's not really explained right now, but as the books go on, we'll learn that both brothers carry essentially an ancestral trait that's basically the combination of some sort of weird magic genetic manipulation and magic. Lysaer has the s'Ilessid trait of "Justice". Arithon has the s'Ffalenn trait of "Compassion." They also possess their mother's family trait though, which is farsight or foresight.
...
Let's ignore for a second how Lysaer's "justice" trait didn't have a problem with beating an unconscious man to death. Let's talk about foresight. The ability that "links cause to consequence."
...we've met two members of the s'Ahelas family so far. Talera, the Queen of Amroth. And her father, the boys' grandfather, the high mage of Rauven.
TALERA is the mental brain trust that decided to balance out her husband's desire to raise her son as a weapon, she would go to his ENEMY, get knocked up, so he ALSO had his own magic weapon child. And from what we saw of the King of Amroth, losing his wife to his enemy seems to have made his side of the feud a lot worse.
The high mage, for his part, decides that he wants to protect Arithon by linking his fate with Lysaer. And he does this, by having Lysaer thrown through the gate. It's not clear how much he knew about what was happening to Arithon, but at the very least, he should have figured out that a month in captivity wouldn't have been good for him. So he tosses in the brother who is on the other side of the fucking blood feud and who is in considerably better physical condition!
At BEST, Arithon prevails and keeps Lysaer alive and divides the food and water, which is what happened.
At WORST, Lysaer kills him. Which almost happened.
If they'd just sent the fucking care package, Arithon would have made it to Mearth on his own. He may or may not have been able to get through the shadows, but he'd have been in pretty decent physical condition and with twice as much food and water, so he'd have had time to make a strategic plan.
And recall that Lysaer "I'm going to throw the sword into my water supply" and Arithon "I'm incapable of taking an action that's not going to obviously backfire on me in the near or far future" are ALSO apparently in possession of this gift.
What I'm saying, gentlefolk, is that "foresight" is fucking BULLSHIT.
So anyway, Asandir's still in Arithon's head and we revisit the scene right before the book started:
Bound into sympathy with Arithon’s mind, the sorcerer knew a quarterdeck littered with corpses. Through a sheen of tears he watched a father’s streaked fingers worry at an arrow lodged between neck and heart. The laboured words of the dying man were nearly lost in the din of battle. ‘Son, you must fire the brigantine. Let Dharkaron take me. I should never have asked you to leave Rauven.’
We see Arithon try to reassure his father, but also feel incredible self-doubt, as he acknowledges that if he'd never left Rauven, he need never have faced the anguished choice: to withhold from misuse of master conjury, and to count that scruple’s cost in lives his unrestricted powers could have spared.
We see Avar beg Arithon to burn the ship so he can die free. Arithon protests, but we see another crewman take the torch from him and do the deed. Arithon's busy trying to staunch his dad's bleeding, but the crewman pulls him away.
‘Your father’s lost, lad. Without you, Karthan’s kingless. ’ Weeping outright, the brigantine’s quartermaster hurled him headlong over the rail into the sea.
Aw. I wonder if that's the guy we saw at the very beginning of the chapter. The one who forced the Amroth sailors to kill him.
We're told that the scene then repeats. Per Asandir, this is how the curse of Mearth works. It was originally created to protect the fountain from "meddlers" and had a geas that forces someone to relive their worst memories endlessly. This usually causes insanity. If a man is VERY tenacious, he might get by with just amnesia.
Fortunately, Asandir is a fellowship sorcerer (just like Davien, the dude who made the curse and the fountain), so he's able to break that. Then he starts sorting through Arithon's memories. "The result wrung his heart."
Um, dude, if you've broken the curse, do you really need to be sifting through the poor guy's mind?
But we get more flowery sympathy and world-building/conflict establishing:
Arithon was a man multiply gifted, a mage-trained spirit tailored by grief to abjure all desire for ruling power. Scarred by his severe s’Ffalenn conscience and haunted past healing by his mother’s s’Ahelas foresight, Arithon would never again risk the anguish of having to choose between the binding restraints of arcane knowledge and the responsibilities of true sovereignty. Asandir caught his breath in raw and terrible sympathy. Kingship was the one role Athera’s need could not spare this prince.
Descended of royal lines older than Dascen Elur’s archives, Arithon was the last living heir to the High Kingship of Rathain, a land divided in strife since the Mistwraith had drowned the sky. Although Arithon’s case begged mercy, Asandir had known the separate sorrows of generations whose hopes had endured for the day their liege lord would return through West Gate. That the s’Ffalenn prince who arrived might find his crown intolerable seemed tragic beyond imagining.
So Lysaer's the heir of Tysan and Arithon's the heir of Rathain. Kingdoms for all! Lysaer would probably be on board with this. Arithon will be less than enthused.
But it has to happen. For some reason. "For the sake of the balance of an age". Asandir is PRETTY sure Arithon's not going to want anything to do with a second crown, given how the first one ended. And between his nifty shadow trick and his mage training, Asandir thinks he might be able to get out of it.
We're told that what happens next is motivated by pity. Asandir decides that If he could not release this prince from kingship, he might at least grant peace of mind and a chance for enlightened acceptance. But I wonder if he's not motivated more by making sure Arithon doesn't bolt as soon as he figures out what's going on.
He uses magic to put a block in Arithon's memories, specifically the links of association which made kingship incompatible with magecraft. It's supposed to be temporary, to "spare" Arithon "full awareness of a fate he would find untenable util he could be offered the guidance to manage his gifts by the Fellowship of Seven."
...dude. Really? Because this reads like "we don't want him running away until we can put massive amounts of pressure on him."
But anyway, he carries Arithon into the other room and then goes to tend Lysaer.
We don't actually see Lysaer's worst memories. Because he's not the favorite. (Actually, Wurts apparently was asked about this a lot, since she answers it in her Q&A on her website. She apparently just left Lysaer's part out because she thought a) Arithon's trauma would be more dramatic, since Lysaer's had a pretty calm life before getting shoved into a stargate and b) she didn't want to be repetitive. Fair enough.)
The scene shifts to Dakar waking up from his nap. He grabs some food and meets up with a very upset Asandir, who complains about Dakar's prophecy and its tangled result.
For his part, Dakar wants to know why a serf is carrying a Paravian sword. Asandir STILL won't answer a straightforward question. Instead, he tells Dakar to look at the sword. And Dakar does, recognizes it as Alithiel, "one of the twelve swords forged at Isaer from the cinder of a fallen star."
And Asandir FINALLY tells him that Arithon is "Teir's'Ffalenn." (We're helpfully told that Teir translates to successor/heir.) Dakar thinks this disproves his prophecy, but Asandir clarifies that no, his prophecy is SUPER CORRECT.
‘You predicted the Mistwraith’s bane, surely enough, but only through an aberration of every law designated by the Major Balance.’ Asandir looked up, bleak as spring frost. ‘Our princes are half-brothers through s’Ahelas on the distaff side. The affinity for power Sethvir once nurtured in that line has evolved unselectively on Dascen Elur, to the point where direct elemental mastery was granted to unborn children, all for a bride’s dowry.’
Foresight!
Dakar is amazed, and we find out that he is the sworn "spellbinder" to Asandir, which seems to be a kind of apprentice. And even now, he's not capable of elemental mastery. So this is a big deal.
While they talk, Dakar gets an "uneasy, hollow feeling", and we're told that often precedes a prophecy. He jumps to his feet, dropping the sword.
Asandir says something interesting here, when Dakar asks if they have any other choice:
‘No.’ Asandir lifted the sword. Emerald light spiked his knuckles as he restored the blade to the sheath. ‘Man’s meddling created the Mistwraith. By the tenets of the Major Balance, mortal hands must achieve its defeat.’
Does this mean that the Fellowship doesn't count as mortal? Are they like Gandalf?
So anyway, our scene shifts now to Arithon, waking up in an unfamiliar room. Lysaer's on an adjacent cot. Clothing has been provided, which sets off Arithon's suspicions. He also seems to have some recollection of Asandir fixing his mind, at least he remembers power "greater than any he had ever known". We're told that he dresses swiftly in clothes too large for his thin frame.
Lysaer wakes up at this point. Arithon fills him in on the tiny bit that he knows: their host is a sorcerer more powerful than anyone on Dascen Elur. He urges Lysaer to act carefully.
This is interesting though:
Naked unless he accepted the clothing at his feet, Lysaer battled his pride. Suspicious of sorcerers and bereft of kingdom and inheritance, he misliked the thought he must rely on charity and a former enemy’s judgement. ‘What do you suggest?’
FORMER enemy? Huh. Lysaer really has changed his perceptive since almost beating his brother to death in a desert. And genuinely asking for advice.
Arithon, for his part, tries to "ease the damage tactless handling had created". I'm not sure what that means, but he recites a maxim about how power without wisdom eventually destroys itself, and their host is immeasurably old. So they can try to trust him.
He DOES caution Lysaer to maintain his manners until our host reveals a motive.
This is interesting too:
Lysaer paused, half-clad. ‘I hear you.’ The glare he turned upon his half-brother all but made the s’Ffalenn flinch, so clearly did the look recall the unpleasantness of Amroth’s council chamber. A moment passed, charged with tension. Then the prince swore softly and some of the anger left him. ‘By the Wheel, I’m tired of being shoved in beyond my depth!’
Not Lysaer's frustration. Though I sympathize. But it's interesting that Arithon sees his brother's glare and thinks of Amroth's council chamber (and the King), NOT the attempted murder in the desert. Both brothers seem to have re-evaluated their dynamic.
Arithon tries to reassure Lysaer, but inwardly thinks neither of them are going to be a match for the dude in the other room.
We get some nice description of our surroundings and the new guys:
Orange light gleamed between crudely joined panels. The Master pressed his cheek to the gap and peered into the room beyond. Stacked logs cast drifts of shadow against mud-chinked walls. Herbs hung drying from the peaked beams of the ceiling, their fragrance mingled with woodsmoke. Before the hearth, on a stool of axe-hewn fir, a short man stirred the contents of a kettle; a rumpled tunic swathed his bulging gut and his hair was a nest of elflocks.
Arithon shifted, his hands gone damp with apprehension. On the settle sat a second man, so still his presence had nearly been overlooked. Silver hair gleamed against the curve of a grindstone wheel. A log settled in the fire; light flared, broken into angles against the man’s face. Arithon glimpsed dark, jutting brows and an expression of unbreakable patience. Though lean and stamped by time, the stranger himself defied age. Touched again by the impression of power, Arithon felt his breath catch.
I've decided that in my mind, Asandir is being played by Eugene Levy.
So they go inside. Asandir greets them in Paravian, or "the old tongue" as it's known on Dascen Elur. Lysaer doesn't understand. Arithon does, and starts pretty openly freaking out. He calls Asandir Lord, thanking him for shelter. When Asandir says that he has no land or title, Arithon DROPS TO HIS KNEES and begs forgiveness! That seems a bit much.
This freaks out Lysaer and astonishes Dakar, for some reason. Asandir is bemused, but reassuring. He pulls Arithon up and starts talking in the common language so Lysaer can be included.
So they sit down for breakfast. Arithon is musing over a reference Asandir had made to a prophecy and Dakar's wager. He thinks that Dakar's intense interest implies higher stakes than gold, and it's making him nervous. He tells himself that he learned his lesson from Karthan, and he doesn't intend to sacrifice magecraft or music for duty a second time.
And then this happens: "Though sorcerer and prophet held every advantage, Arithon intended to keep the initiative, if only to cover his intent with distraction. With the food yet untouched in his bowl, he caught the sorcerer’s attention and asked the first question that sprang to mind. ‘Who is Davien?’
Dakar gasped. He froze with the ladle poised over air and broth dripped unnoticed on the clay brick of the hearth. Lysaer looked on, stiff with uncertainty, as tension mounted round his half-brother like a stormfront.
Asandir alone showed no reaction. But his answer was sharp as a rapier at guard-point. ‘Why do you ask?’
Arithon clenched his jaw. Luck had provided him opening; he had not guessed his query would rouse such a disturbed response. Though he had urged Lysaer to avoid confrontation, he recklessly snatched his chance to provoke. ‘I think you already know why I ask.’
Arithon: "These people are incredibly powerful. We should act carefully, keep our manners, and trust them."
Also Arithon: "Fuck each and every one of you."
So Asandir explains. Both he and Davien are members of the "Fellowship of Seven." Davien however is an EX-member, seeing as how he decided he wasn't a fan of the monarchy, and decided to start a war over it. This led to the high kings being overthrown, and there hasn't been true peace in the realm since. Davien chose to exile himself afterward.
Arithon pushes for more, wanting to know if he and Lysaer are promised to restore what Davien destroyed. This shocks Dakar, for some reason, but it seems like a perfectly logical question. Asandir doesn't seem surprised, but we're told that his movement "warned of ebbing tolerance".
Hey, dude. You ARE planning to use these guys to fix the world. You said so when you were invading Arithon's mind. You put mental blocks in there to make sure he wouldn't freak out about it. I feel like you can probably be more tolerant here.
Asandir now gives us the big quest of the book: there's a Mistwraith covering the world of Athera, since just after the fall of the high kings. It causes illness and has blocked out direct sunlight for five hundred years. There's a prophecy that princes from Dascen Elur will bring the means to restore sunlight and heal the land. Obviously, that's Lysaer and Arithon. He asks, italicized, if that answers Arithon?
And hilariously. Wonderfully. Arithon says "Not directly, no."
You're such a dick and I love it.
Lysaer loves it less, though. HE's the one who ends up snapping, asking Arithon if he'd learned nothing of diplomacy in Karthan.
Arithon starts to answer, and we can tell from the start of the sentence that it will probably be gloriously acidic and assholish/defiant ("The lesson Karthan taught me-") But he's interrupted as he realizes there's a gap in his mind. Suddenly, his memory of the conflict dissolves, and his emotions are quenched.
Oh...Asandir. I've spent three chapters with these idiots and even I can tell you that this isn't going to work.
And indeed, Arithon, having found a hole in his brain can't not poke it. He keels the fuck over.
Yeah. Called that.
So Arithon wakes up, and aw, Lysaer's supporting his shoulders. And Dakar is saying something about this being probably an after-effect from Mearth, indicating that Lysaer asked for an explanation. He asks if Arithon's okay! Brothers! <3
Arithon doesn't remember what happened. Asandir, possibly realizing that he's put a mental block in the mind of a professional asshole whose motto is "fuck you, fuck me, and yes, I will rip out my large intestine if it means I can strangle you with it" tells Arithon that he's got a memory gap, it isn't permanent, and he promises to explain fully when the Fellowship convenes at a place called Althain Tower.
Arithon doesn't see much of a choice here. But Asandir says that he's only asking the princes to accompany them on the journey. He outright says that they'll see the ruin caused by the Mistwraith and hopefully then be more on board with what's being asked of them.
Arithon storms out of the room. Lysaer is torn, but at Asandir's dismissal, follows Arithon. With both brothers gone, Dakar asks Asandir about the mindblock. Asandir, of COURSE, doesn't explain. He only says that he did it with excellent reason.
Dakar, of COURSE, takes this non-explanation and notes the bleak tone, and assumes that means that Asandir distrusts Arithon and he should too.
You'd think after five hundred years of companionship, Asandir would know how to manage his apprentice.
Asandir then notes that he's "seldom" seen anyone fight a mental block to unconsciousness. Hah. Of course.
Dakar then makes an interesting statement. He thinks that the brothers will come to odds. He isn't sure if that's prophecy or not. When he held the sword earlier, he started to get a premonition, but he couldn't bear the thought of five centuries of hope collapsing with bad news, so he'd dropped the sword. He doesn't want to know.
--
The next part of the chapter is called "Overview" (the first was "Mistwraith's Bane").
We join a fellow named Grithen as he plans to ambush a caravan. There's some interesting world building. Grithen is the fourteenth heir of a deposed earl. There was an uprising after the high king fell, and now there's a mayor living in the earl's castle who has apparently forgotten his origins.
We learn of the conflict between "clansmen" and the people of the towns. The clansmen were once nobility but they were overthrown. Now they live in the woods, hunted by the townfolk. (There's a very evocative line: "At seven, the murder of his two brothers on the stag spears of the mayor's hunting party stamped hatred in his heart for any man born within town walls.") Grithen wants revenge.
This looks like it'll be a very rich caravan, so Grithen is shocked when an older clansman, a man named "Lord Tashan" appears and tells him no. There's a bard in this caravan, who's a friend to the clan and protected by guest oath. When Grithen protests, he verbally smacks him down and reminds him of his duties.
Grithen agrees, but rebelliously thinks that he's going to plunder the shit of the next group that passes. (I wonder who that might be.)
--
The next part of the chapter is "Preview".
We rejoin Sethvir, the Fellowship Sorcerer we met before. He's gotten a message from Asandir. He uses that message to get a vision of Asandir, Dakar, and the brothers:
The blond prince raised one arm. Light cracked from his hand, sharp-edged as lightning. As the mist overhead billowed into confusion a black-haired companion raised darkness like a scythe and cut skyward. Fog curdled in the shadow’s deadly cold. Flurried snow danced on the breeze.
Dramatic!
He and Asandir converse. Asandir hasn't explained the brothers' heritage yet. He's worried that their "background of strife" might make trouble for the succession. Asandir explains his plans for the journey (which include the city of Erdane) and they discuss the princes a bit more.
--
Finally, we get to my favorite part of the chapter. The single sentence snapshots. This time called "Envoys".
The first one has to do with the Koriani Enchantresses we met earlier. Lirenda has suggested Elaira for an assignment, primarily because it sounds like it'll be unpleasant travelling. She'll be heading to the city of Erdane.
A raven is sent from Althain Tower to the south east.
And Asandir gets a visitation from "a bodiless Fellowship colleague" who warns that a pack of "Khadrim" have escaped.
So that was fun! See you next time!