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i_read_whatSo last chapter, we had a lot of build up and a lot of politics, all of which indicating that things will come to a dramatic head on Arithon's coronation day.
This chapter is called "Coronation Day".
I expect some excitement.
No false advertising here. The chapter starts "an hour past sunrise" on the day appointed for Arithon's coronation. Dakar has come bearing clothes and annoyance. He's been ordered to watch Arithon dress and make sure he leaves nothing out. Arithon, who is [c]urled in the windowseat with his lyranthe lying silent across his knees, because of course he is, banters back that he suspects that Dakar's orders are directed toward Dakar as well. And indeed, there are actually clothes for Dakar in the pile as well.
I really enjoy Dakar and Arithon's dynamic of constant irritation.
‘Well, let’s say your accession to Rathain’s throne isn’t a balm to anybody’s temper!’ Still distressed over Lysaer’s endangerment at the time of the Mistwraith’s confinement, Dakar vented his resentment upon the prince at hand. ‘Where were you last night?’
‘Not drinking, nor with a woman.’ Lightly, lovingly, Arithon dusted a finger across his strings. A haunting minor chord sighed forth; then, since even that slight sound galled like salt in an open sore, he laid his instrument aside. The eyes he turned upon Dakar were sharp and terrible for their emptiness. ‘Is there anything else?’
But the Mad Prophet refused to be baited. ‘If you were gallivanting again in the poor quarter you’d better have taken a bath.’
1. I appreciate that someone is bothered by the Fellowship's treatment of Lysaer. Unfortunately, Dakar takes it out on Arithon, the one person besides Lysaer who has absolutely no control over that. Asander has fucked over both brothers in ways that neither is truly aware of yet.
2. Dakar's role in Mistwraith isn't terribly significant. Of our main four, he's got the smallest role, being neither a schemer nor a target of the scheme. It's a shame because in a lot of ways, he's by far the most relatable. Happily, he gets a much bigger role in the sequel, Ships of Merior.
3. Speaking of, there's something rather fascinating about the way Dakar remembers the events of this book in Ships of Merior, that's worth poking at a little. Dakar remembers himself and Lysaer being essentially best friends on this trip. While that probably is true for Dakar, as being the apprentice of the Fellowship seems a pretty fucking thankless job, it really doesn't seem to be for Lysaer. If Lysaer was closest to anyone on this trip, it was Arithon, not Dakar. Sometimes it seemed like he barely tolerated Dakar, but was only the one too nice to say so. Though other times they did genuinely seem to have fun.
I wonder if it's not meant to be an example of Lysaer's charisma: that he makes everyone feel as though they are very important friends of his.
4. "galled like salt in an open sore". Oh, the melodrama. Dakar's complete immunity to Arithon's tragedy is pretty awesome. They're an underrated partnership.
Speaking of melodrama:
Arithon stripped off his shirt. Marked yet by the physical scars from his past failed effort at sovereignty, he surveyed the array of kingly trappings in bright-eyed, self-mocking distaste. ‘Let’s have this over with.’
He dressed himself while Dakar passed garments in roughly the appropriate order: silver-grey hose, white silk shirt, black tunic with leopard-fur edging. Next, the ceremonial accessories that symbolized a sovereign’s tie to the land: the belt of wooden discs inlaid with royal seals in abalone; the deer-hide boots studded with river stone and tied with feather-tipped thongs; the cabochon emerald set in silver that he pinned above his heart. The fabrics held no scent beyond a hint of sweetgrass that lingered from the ritual blessing worked an hour earlier by the Fellowship. The fine-stitched tracery of interlace borders, the ribboned cuffs and hems bespoke tailoring unmatched in Etarra. When and where such masterwork had been done, Arithon refused to ask.
Among the belongings is a truly hideous sword sheath that supposedly is a gift from the ladies of Etarra. This might be genuine or a prank of Dakar. Who knows. We have more dramatic dressing as Arithon puts on his deeply symbolic silver circlet.
As soon as he does, poor Dakar has a vision:
Dakar chose that moment to look up. Imprinted against the amber casement, he saw Arithon’s face crossed by the shining band that preceded Rathain’s vested sovereignty. Chills roughened the Mad Prophet’s flesh. One split-second of vertigo was all the forewarning he received.
Then in a rush, his seer’s talent claimed him wholly as instrument.
Trance shocked through him with such force that his mind became emptied. Dakar dropped to his knees.
A vision burned through: of a square milling with people, among them Arithon, who drove in heedless, driven panic between tight-packed factions of Etarra merchants. The image formed fully and shattered, buried by a static blast of whiteness as a second shock slammed Dakar’s innermind.
Vaguely aware that his voice shouted meaningless phrases, the Mad Prophet felt himself falling. His downward rush into darkness was suddenly and sickeningly arrested by a hand that caught and yanked him back.
No wonder the poor guy self-medicates. Anyway, Arithon's got an arm around his shoulders, holding him upright. He helps Dakar lie down, and walking bit of symbolism that he is, he's very much in disarray:
The royal tabard was rucked askew. Both of the prince’s silk sleeves were blotched with perspiration. Whatever slight tolerance Arithon had attained toward kingship appeared to have fled in a moment. Against skin shocked to pallor, the hair dragged flat beneath the circlet crossed his forehead like penstrokes scribbled upon parchment. Wild-eyed as any cornered animal, the Shadow Master half-forced, half-propelled Dakar across the floor.
Dakar wants to know what he said. Arithon just says that he "foretold disaster". His hands are shaking. This leads Dakar to blow a pretty big secret when he asks if Desh-thiere has some kind of hold on Lysaer.
Mere supposition drove Arithon to an explosive step back. ‘Would that were all.’ He snatched up the sword which rested unsheathed near the regalia he had not yet put on. ‘Where’s the sorcerer who should be here on guard?’
But a search of the dimmest alcoves where a discorporate mage was wont to lurk showed Luhaine nowhere in evidence. In dread that some dire facet of Dakar’s prophecy had compelled the Fellowship guardian to abandon him, Arithon spun back toward the divan. ‘Where’s Asandir!’
Given that Arithon did NOT recoil in shock at that question means we can probably assume that Dakar did say worse. In fact, he seems to be freaking the fuck out, even to the point of holding his sword at Dakar's throat and demanding Asandir's location. Dakar tells him: Asandir's in council.
‘Arithon!’ Dakar shoved up on one elbow. ‘What did I see in that trance?’
For a split second it seemed Rathain’s prince would not stem his frantic rush. But as the latch wrenched open under his hand, he threw back in anguished haste, ‘Dakar, as you love peace, if you care for my half-brother, keep him from me! For if we’re brought face to face the terms of your prophecy shall be met. The result will end in a bloodbath.’
Well. This sounds bad. Very very bad.
-
We scene shift to the council hall of Etarra. It's all bedecked for the coronation. That's of course not stopping the councilmen from griping and plotting, but Asandir is busy. Apparently, Commander Diegan is also busy having "invited that fair-haired flunky, Lysaer, for an after-breakfast social." Diegan's sister is apparently quite infatuated.
Morfett is pretty adamant that today, tomorrow, or next year, Arithon will be overthrown. And he's very happy to see Asandir looking stressed and suddenly talking to Traithe.
They may need the raven for messages. Though why, I don't know, seeing as how Asandir has just gotten word from Sethvir: Lysaer's in trouble. "The pattern that encompasses his Name has drifted." Also, Luhaine, who you may recall above had disappeared from Dakar and Arithon's presence, has reported the premonition. You know, instead of actually helping the dude who's sick from it, or the guy who's going to be the target of it. But it sounds pretty bad. Lysaer apparently might actually be harbouring one of the mistwraith's wraiths himself. "One mistimed judgement and we'll have no crowned king, nor a restored Fellowship, just panic and bloodshed in the streets."
You know, dude. It kind of serves you right?
Morfett's pretty happy to have heard this and intends to go report this to the council. Traithe basically knocks him out sneakily and pretends he's overcome by the heat.
--
Now to Lysaer. He's been invited for wine after breakfast. And something is happening:
Lysaer suddenly flushed. A wave of heat swept through him, followed by bone-deep chill. Quickly, he set down his goblet, before his unsteady hand sloshed the contents. Alarmed that he might have succumbed to sudden fever, Lysaer touched his forehead. A second wave of disorientation passed through him. He stiffened, transfixed by fear; for an instant he felt as if his mind spun to blankness, his self-awareness overturned by a will other than his own.
The sensation cleared a heartbeat later. Lysaer shivered in silly relief. He was just tired, not quite himself. Arithon’s coronation presented no crisis; his momentary faintness surely had been due to nerves and imagination, a residual distress left by the nightmares that had plagued him off and on since Ithamon. As the patterned brocade chair that supported him swam clearly back into focus, Lysaer looked up.
I'm sure everything is fine.
He tries to get the thread of conversation back. And wow. These people are terrible:
Diegan interrupted and took up what had been a bristling argument. ‘But the children who work in the warehouses are not the get of the free poor, as your puppet-prince led you to think.’ Etarra’s commander of the guard set down the crystal goblet that he had toyed with for the past half hour. His wine sloshed untasted as he said, ‘These wretches that Arithon would champion are in fact the offspring of condemned criminals, clanblood barbarians who have harassed the trade-routes with thievery and murder for generations.’
Wow. So basically, these kids deserve to suffer because their parents are criminals and barbarians. Wow, Etarra is gross. And really, Asandir and company, I think it's going to take more than just naming some guy king to fix this bullshit.
I'd like to think that Lysaer, in his right mind, would tear this apart. Lysaer can sometimes be blind to privilege and judgmental, but he's not cruel. The tragedy is, I think if he'd heard this kind of thing a few chapters ago, he might have found it easier to understand Maenalle and her fellows.
But is he in his right mind?
Heat chased cold across Lysaer’s skin. He resisted an urge to blot his brow, willed aside his unsettled condition and studied the city’s Lord Commander, whose finery and intellect made him more courtier than soldier and whose words fanned up like dry cobwebs the clinging spectre of past doubts.
S’Ffalenn pirates on Dascen Elur had repeatedly manipulated political sore points to stir unrest and further their marauding feud against Amroth.
Lysaer snapped back to present circumstance with an inward lash of chastisement. This was Etarra, not Port Royal and Arithon was not as his ancestors. More musician than buccaneer, he had been the sworn heir of a murderer in a past that no longer mattered. Fair minded, Lysaer pushed off his uneasiness. ‘Do you suggest Rathain’s prince would lie to discredit the city council?’
That mention of s'Ffalenn pirates is a little chilling actually. All along, I've said that if he actually asked Arithon about the pirates' motives, maybe he'd understand him better and understand the clansfolk better. But this maybe sounds like he DOES know what was happening in Karthan. He just doesn't believe it.
And we get another example of Lysaer splitting Arithon off from his ancestors. Arithon is special. A musician, not a pirate. Even though they met when Arithon was captured from the pirate ship he served on.
Anyway, Diegan suggests Arithon's in league with the Fellowship plan to see Etarra given to the barbarians, and would act accordingly.
Never at ease with Arithon’s mage-trained evasiveness, Lysaer re-examined matters from that angle. Only this morning, Dakar had staggered in from his rounds of the taverns and attested in slurred certainty that Arithon had not spent last night drinking in any man’s company. ‘Wherever he was, only Daelion knows. His Grace himself’s not saying.’
Lysaer blinked, pricked by association. This day’s musician, who begged to be spared from royal position, was one and the same man as the chained sorcerer who had burned seven ships, then baited Amroth’s council at trial with his own life offered as gambit.
I feel like I'm excerpting too much, but it's all kind of important to show the quick, yet gradual twist of Lysaer's thoughts. He doesn't immediately go "my brother is actually evil." But as Diegan and Talith speak, his mind keeps going back to the old feuds and Arithon's early actions. Really, it probably doesn't matter what Diegan or Talith say, but their words provide direction.
And my own prophecy proves true: Arithon is incapable of taking an action that doesn't either screw himself over now, or later.
And another thing that maybe we all forgot. Lysaer is a fair man, and a good man, and over the course of eleven chapters or so (...probably closer to thirty three, since each chapter is divided into three substantial segments), we've seen that he does truly care about his brother.
But Lysaer is also a man who beat a man to death in the desert. The only reason Arithon is still alive is that magic fountain. He's always had that darkness in him.
Lysaer's not fallen yet though. He knows the Fellowship's intentions aren't harmful, and it's not his place to deny Arithon his inheritance. But Talith scores a point too, when she presses that Lysaer doubts Arithon. And Lysaer promises that on behalf of the city, he'll question Arithon, who is secretive and crafty, but has never lied in direct confrontation. Diegan gets him to promise to share his findings before the coronation.
The room, the wine and the company seemed suddenly too rich. Lysaer strove to recoup his composure. Sleepless nights and troubled dreams had sown his mind with unworthy confusion. For even if Arithon’s sympathies were misguided, the thorns in seeing justice done remained: the labourers enslaved in guild service were still children, ill fed, inadequately clothed and poorly housed. Although for simplicity’s sake it would relieve a vicious quandary to fault them for the crimes of their ancestors, their plight deserved unbiased review. If Arithon would champion their cause, he must defend his decision to repudiate the city council’s policies.
Lysaer's not completely far gone, but the burden of proof shouldn't be Arithon's. The council should have to justify enslaving children. Arithon shouldn't have to justify changing that.
Then there's a commotion outside: Dakar and Asandir. They're trying to come in. Lysaer tries to open the door, but finds it jammed. Diegan tries too, and the door becomes hot eough to raise blisters, though it causes no physical mark. Spellcraft.
Lysaer has another bout: the room flickers in and out of existence for a moment. His ears are buzzing. And he's suddenly filled with rage. Who but Arithon would have dared to interfere; the poisoned conclusion followed, that if the s’Ffalenn bastard was to blame, distrust of Etarra’s council was emphatically misplaced.
They can hear Dakar and Asandir talking outside. Dakar admits to binding the door latch, as Arithon had begged him to keep the brothers separate.
There's a really interesting moment where Talith pulls Lysaer aside, and he has a shock "for her unmannerly presumption", something even he realizes is uncharacteristically irascible. I think this may be a hint about what the curse is actually doing as it twists him against Arithon. Lysaer is always proper and dignified, but the response is exaggerated here. The curse may be exaggerating other traits as well.
Like a pre-disposition to justice. Thanks, Fellowship.
So he asks the siblings to help him get out so he can find Arithon and ask him for the truth. Talith does so, while Diegan stays behind to face Asandir. Asandir tries to question him, asking if he noticed Lysaer suffering a lack of awareness or a momentary drifting. For once, he even explains: "For if you noticed such a lapse, your friend could be endangered. One of Desh-thiere’s separate wraiths may have evaded captivity. If, unbeknownst to us, such a creature came to possess Lysaer, all of Etarra could be threatened."
Unfortunately, the recipient of such very rare honesty is Diegan, who is far too self-interested to care. He just says that when Lysaer left, he seemed in perfect self-command. Asandir orders Diegan kept under house arrest. Dakar is to stay with him.
If Diegan weren't an asshole who justifies child slavery, I might like this bit:
Diegan offered a chair and pressed a filled goblet upon the Mad Prophet. ‘Then let’s forgo sanity also and both get rippingly drunk.’
--
Our scene shifts to Traithe in the council room. Despite the fact that he'd sealed it with magic, the door blasts open. It's Arithon, demanding to know where Asandir is. This show of sorcery naturally freaks out the council, who shout that the dread rumors are true.
Well, fuck. If you recall, sorcery is punishable by very nasty death in Etarra. They may tolerate the Fellowship, but only because the Fellowship is too powerful to do anything about. Arithon is not that powerful. But Arithon's got bigger problems.
Traithe tells him what's going on and warns him the streets aren't safe. Arithon can't exactly stay here though. The council already wanted him dead, now they're keyed up worse. And they likely have enough daggers and jeweled pins to pull an Ides of March on him.
Having interposed his own person between the threatened prince and the dignitaries in the chamber at large, Traithe sorted limited options. That Luhaine seemed nowhere in evidence was sure indication that the nexus of change forecast in the strands at Althain Tower had fully and finally been crossed. The wrong intervention now might displace the sequence of events that framed Dakar’s Black Rose Prophecy. Traithe raged at his impaired powers; unlike his colleagues, he could not gauge the broad import of this crisis at a glance. The best he could offer was a gesture. ‘My bird will lead the straightest course toward Sethvir.’
You know what? Fuck your fucking Black Rose Prophecy. Maybe if you'd talked to the brothers, warned them, this could have been avoided. Lysaer actually did notice the change in his own behavior toward Talith. He might have noticed it toward Arithon too, if he knew it was coming. But no, you had to sacrifice both for a dream future that might not happen anyway.
So Arithon flees, and Traithe uses magic to put the council asleep. And he has the fucking nerve to think that, but for Dakar's predictions concerning the Fellowship's recovery, Arithon might have been able to return here for sanctuary.
No, actually. This isn't Dakar's fault. Dakar may have made the prediction, but you assholes made the decision, no input from Dakar, Lysaer or Arithon required.
(And even now, this scene ends with Traithe trying to figure out what hope could be salvaged for the Black Rose Prophecy. Fuck the brothers, of course.)
-
Back to Lysaer. And this is interesting: he can sense the sorcerers trying to find him, but realizes that they're searching for him via a "pattern" that doesn't match his personality any longer. Lysaer never stops to realize that this isn't knowledge that he's supposed to have. It's mage-trained insight.
Hm. It seems like MAYBE the plan to sacrifice Lysaer because Arithon's mage knowledge would be too dangerous for the Mistwraith may have been the WRONG DECISION.
And indeed, the curse is using Lysaer's traits against him:
Every quandary that tormented his conscience and broke his night’s rest with disturbed dreams had narrowed into sudden, lucent focus.
Lysaer gave a laugh in self-derision. He had fought so hard to give Arithon the benefit of the doubt that objectivity itself became obstructive. He shivered and sweated, berating his idealistic foolishness. He had only to question all along. For if Arithon was established as a liar, the ongoing weeks of heartsick recrimination might at one stroke become banished. Avar’s bastard as a proven criminal presented Lysaer with moral duty to defend the merchants and townsmen.
A resolution in favour of complaints he understood would be a frank relief.
...we've seen this before. In the very first chapter, when face to face with the prisoner that was his half brother. When Arithon asked for a mercy that Lysaer couldn't grant, his reaction hadn't been to get angry at his father for putting him in that position, but Arithon himself for making him feel guilty.
We saw it with Maenalle, and his difficulty rationalizing the clansmen actions against his ingrained sympathy for the townsfolk.
Like Dakar said: Lysaer's gift/curse is to look for justice even when there isn't any. And when it isn't simple, his resentment flares at the victim who makes him rethink things. Not the powerful figures who set this up.
In his right mind, Lysaer is a good person whose inclination to fairness will at least inspire him to try to parse through his feelings and biases, once he's alerted to them. But tragically, Lysaer isn't in his right mind anymore. And we get a very unsubtle demonstration of this:
Stray dogs that skulked across his path whined and shrank from his scent. When a braver bitch snarled and hounded his track, he dispatched a flick of light and stung her to yelping flight.
That cruelty to any animal would have been beyond him just minutes before never once crossed Lysaer’s mind. He picked his way over cracked paving and discarded bits of broken pottery and emerged from the alley into the brighter main thoroughfare.
And it's about to get worse.
Because now Lysaer's gone home to Morfett's house. He's standing in Arithon's room, and the curse is still working:
The callous character of its occupant stood revealed to casual inspection: in a king’s cloak left crumpled into the cushions of a divan, and the gift of a carbuncle scabbard spurned and abandoned on the floor.
Lysaer scowled, that the sacred trust of royal heritage should suffer such careless usage. Only the lyranthe lovingly couched on the windowseat gave testament to the heart of the man.
Urged by a pang so indistinct he could not fathom its origin, Lysaer crossed the echoing floor. By the time he reached the alcove, his feelings had fanned into rage. He shouted to the room’s empty corners, ‘Are Rathain’s people of less account than minstrelsy?’
Silence mocked him back. The silver strings sparkled sharp highlights, mute, but all the same promising dalliance.
Rathain’s prince would be reft from distractions; Etarra’s needs would be served. Lysaer reached out and struck the instrument a flying blow with his forearm.
Parchment-thin wood, spell-spun silver, all of Elshian’s irreplaceable craftwork sailed in an arc above the floor tiles. The belling dissonance of impact lost voice as the lyranthe’s sound-chamber smashed and each scattered splinter whispered separately to rest in a swathe of trammelled sunlight.
‘You cannot hide, pirate’s bastard,’ Lysaer vowed. Heat and chills racked his flesh as he spun, crunching over fragments, and burst back through the breached doorway.
And now the lyranthe justifies its presence. The lyranthe had seemed like a very unnecessary addition to the plot. It's a priceless antique, sure, but so is the sword. And while Arithon's use of music as self-consolation has been a thread throughout the book, it could have worked just as well if the lyranthe had been a gift from Fellirin.
But the symbolism is important. It's like that moment in Grimm, where Juliette, who is no longer in her right mind, torches the trailer. It's an act of violence and desecration, in which something impossibly historically priceless is destroyed only for the purpose of hurting another person.
Back outside, Lysaer is playing the crowd with his "ingrained gallantries of his upbringing." He's patting the cheeks of children, offering kind words to the people and just being all lordly grace. They think that Rathain's prince must be like him: "tall and fair-spoken and pledged to end the corruption in Etarra's trade guilds and council."
Well, one of three isn't bad. Lysaer just thinks about how he himself had been "misled" by Arithon, even though he actually lost blood kin to s'Ffalenn wiles.
Eventually a well-meaning person directs him to "the galleries", where he'll get a better view. Lysaer doesn't have an invitation, but the matron is happy to help. Lysaer thinks about how "the dreams and the lives of just such honest folk were the first things Arithon's machinations would tear asunder".
So Lysaer searches for Arithon from his viewpoint. He doesn't see him, but he does see Traithe's raven. This dire warning of Fellowship doings (...I can't really blame him for that one) is eclipsed though by the sudden arrival of his quarry.
Lysaer sees Arithon, who has been uncharacteristically stupid. He's hidden his heraldic tabard with a cloak, but he's still wearing the fucking circlet of inheritance. Lysaer sees the cloak and "realizes" that Arithon is running away, "breaking his commitment to his realm".
Lysaer is, if you haven't noticed, pretty fucking insane. Arithon's going to destroy these people's lives as king. How dare he run away from his responsibilities?!
Lysaer isn't without recourse.
From his unobstructed place at the rail, he drew himself up to full height. Delineated by a nimbus of sunlight, his hair gleamed bright gold and his presence seemed charged with righteous wrath as any angel sent from Athlieria to scour the land of bleak evil.
Lysaer raised his hand and singled out the slight, dishevelled fugitive that elbowed and shoved to escape the square, then lifted his voice in a thunderous shout.
‘People of Etarra, behold the prince you would crown king and hear truth! Your lands have been restored to fair sunlight, yet one lives who can wield darkness more dire than any mist! Arithon Teir’s’Ffalenn is full Master of Shadow, a sorcerer who would succour barbarians and waste your fine city to ashes!’
Two merchants grab Arithon who looks up at the raven.
To Lysaer, watching, the gesture affirmed s’Ffalenn guilt. A prince who was innocent of machinations would never count a dumb beast above his subjects or his own threatened fate. Jolted to savage antagonism; unaware he was the manipulated instrument of Desh-thiere’s fugitive wraith, Lysaer raised rigid hands to call his gift…
I really am using too many excerpts. But I just really get caught up in how the curse works. How it twists everything Lysaer sees and feels into something else. It's so pervasive and insidious.
-
We shift scenes to Asandir, Setvir and company who are stuck, helplessly watching either physically or magically. (Sorrow and grief the strands foretold, were the Fellowship to stand restored to Seven; but with a second, unanticipated forecast entangled on top of the first, the validity of Dakar’s Black Rose Prophecy stood threatened. God, fuck your fucking prophecy!). They realize they can't do anything to get Arithon to safety right now.
I won't begrudge them their favoritism at this point. Lysaer didn't deserve to be the sacrifice, but Arithon's an innocent party to that. But god, fuck the fucking prophecy.
And then, of course, things go horribly horribly wrong. More.
Because Lysaer blasts his light magic at Arithon. Arithon gets free, just fast enough to raise his sword. And because it belongs to Arithon, it gets its own bit of purple prose: Alithiel’s Paravian-wrought protections sheared out a chord of pure heart-break, sure proof the defending cause was just.
The "vigilantes" grabbing Arithon force his sword arm down. Now of course, since it's Arithon, he doesn't even think of trying to use the sword against the people trying to capture him. He's only focused on Lysaer's attack.
Asandir somehow manages to blame Dakar for this:
Asandir’s hand was forced, the full might of his protections engaged to shield helpless bystanders from harm. He cursed fate, agonized that Dakar’s new vision had upset the strands’ forecast and precipitated crisis too soon. No coronation could take place now. On every side of the square, people were screaming, flash-blinded and whipped to stampede in raw terror that their city was being savaged by sorcery.
Hey, fuckwad. YOU KNEW THIS WAS HAPPENING. You willingly sacrificed Lysaer, because Arithon's knowledge was too dangerous, and because Arithon taking the throne is necessary for your stupid fucking prophecy. This is NOT Dakar's fault. What do you think would have happened if Lysaer had come home to find Arithon defenseless in the fucking house?
Unfortunately, we learn the downside to Alithiel. The lights are pretty but they only really serve to dazzle an opponent or divert an unjust attack. The magic can't be used to take a life. I THINK this means that Arithon can kill something with it AS A SWORD, but that the magic won't help with that. Otherwise, why the fuck make it a sword to begin with?
Anyway, because Lysaer's got an ingrained mastery of light, he can't be blinded by the sword's flash. Interesting!
And then Lysaer aims a blast toward the raven instead. Arithon ends up relinquishing the sword so he can protect it with shadow. The next light blast takes Arithon directly in the raised palm. It hurts like a motherfucker. But Asandir realizes that it's worse than that.
Lysaer's bolt was infused with a "bane-spell", which means that the homicidal rage curse that's taken Lysaer? Has now infected Arithon as well.
Thunder pealed. For a heartbeat the packed square was rinsed scarlet, a tableau borrowed from nightmare. As Desh-thiere’s curse claimed its foothold, Arithon’s expression shifted from resistance and pain to a hatred that abjured all redemption. In purest, bloody-hearted passion, he howled and wrought shadow in answer to Lysaer’s betrayal.
The air stung under a savage bite of frost and darkness slammed over Etarra.
Night swallowed all without distinction, from Traithe’s raven that yet flew unharmed on its faithful straight course for Sethvir, to four vigilante merchants exposed to the backwash of murdering force shed from the Shadow Master’s person. Cut down in sudden death, they lay twitching and seared amid smouldering brocades. Citizens scattered in fear from a carnage past the grasp of sane experience.
So this is fucking bad. And also, pretty much the exact thing you idiots sacrificed Lysaer to avoid. Oops.
But maybe not, as:
Blackness dropped also like a curtain over the most ill-starred victim of them all, the s’Ilessid prince enslaved and ruined by the usage of Desh-thiere’s loose wraith. Emptied by the powers that had driven him, Lysaer folded at the knees and collapsed against the gallery rail.
Is it over?
--
The next section is Backlash.
Sethvir has secured the armory that he'd been in when this all started, and now it's serving as the Fellowship base of operations. And admittedly, while I pretty much put all of this at their feet, it's also true that they might be the only people that can help this mess now.
And it sounds like there's quite a fucking mess:
Like individual currents in a cataract, he sensed the mobs that rampaged through streets battened black under shadow; restive city guardsmen who formed bands and drew steel to skewer any sorcerer they could search out and harry to final reckoning. Sethvir knew families mewed up in locked houses; he touched the spilled blood of the innocent, heard the cries of the raped, knew the rage and despair of the looted. Need left scant space for grief. He could set only small seals of peace.
Okay, look, I get that there's been a big tragedy here. But neither Lysaer nor Arithon have committed or advocated rape. That's all the people of Etarra. I'm seeing very little to contradict Maenalle's assertion that this place should be razed to the fucking ground.
Asandir appears, using some kind of nifty Fellowship teleporting, carrying Lysaer's unconscious body in his arms.
Clear-cut as a cameo, the prince’s profile reflected the inborn nobility of his lineage; no shadow showed of the evil that had blighted life and honour. Unwitting pawn of ill circumstance, Lysaer had yet to waken and feel the change that disbarred him from royal inheritance.
Poor, tragic Lysaer.
Oh god, fucking, damnit:
Sethvir avoided Asandir’s eyes, which were steel-bleak. The hands, too fierce in their grip, that crinkled fine lace and blue tinsel; his stance, forced and graceless from the sorrows unspoken between them: that after today’s unconscionable sacrifice, the s’Ffalenn coronation had not happened.
The result did not bear mention, that the precarious Black Rose Prophecy, which keyed Davien the Betrayer’s repentance and the return of Ciladis the Lost, should be left unresolved and in jeopardy.
Look, if a reunified Fellowship is that important, I need to have a better idea why. Right now, the sorcerers just look like fucking assholes.
Though there is some awareness of that, as the narrative notes that they'd traded Athera's peace to guarantee a reunification of the Fellowship, but still have no guarantee it'll happen. ("every atrocity that swept Etarra's streets might have been set loose in vain".)
Ughhh.
Sethvir tells Asandir that he can't blame himself. And really, I think he FUCKING CAN. Asandir thinks they were remiss not to look for possession. "Across time?" Sethvir asks, and um, yes. You made that determination last chapter?
Anyway, Luhaine shows up to tell them that he's lost track of Arithon, who apparently ran for it after taking out Lysaer. I don't blame the guy one bit. His life-pattern has "drifted severely" as well. They're both affected by the curse.
They're realizing that this is more than possession. (And in an intriguing character beat, Asandir tells Luhaine to "let Cal work" so he can answer their questions. "That Asandir used Sethvir’s ancient and all but forgotten mortal Name laid bare the depth of his distress.").
So Sethvir figures out the point of the curse. Basically, the Mistwraith had figured out that its bane was a set of two, and thus decided to set them against each other, cursing them to hatred. That tracks with what we saw, yes.
Hah! Hilariously, Sethvir also discovers that their whole intention of priorizing Arithon over Lysaer was the exact WRONG thing to do. The Mistraith had already gotten the scope of Arithon's training when it made brief contact with him outside Ithamon. So it already had what they were trying to keep from it. And WORSE, Arithon's training might have actually deflected the attack. Or sensed the wraith before it could possess him.
‘Dharkaron damn us for fools, we threw the wrong prince into jeopardy.’ Yeah. And maybe you could have talked to them about your concerns first? Instead of choosing one to sacrifice willy nilly?
And remember how I said that Arithon's incapable of making a decision that doesn't screw him over? The foothold that Desh-thiere uses for revenge is that time that Arithon used magic against Lysaer in the desert, in an attempt to keep him alive.
Hah. Of fucking course.
WORSE: the Mistwraith learned from the bindings that Kharadmon had used on Lysaer (with consent admittedly) and tied its curse up into their life forces. There's no way to undo it without killing them.
...I mean, you could just kill Lysaer?
I mean, that's an asshole thing to suggest of course. This isn't Lysaer's fault. But well. You already sacrificed him before. And you apparently need Arithon for the stupid prophecy you care about. And he's right there, while Arithon is in the wind. So...why not?
Okay, to be fair, it seems like Asandir at least is thinking about it. They're going to try to exorcise the thing possessing Lysaer, and they'll have to kill him if they fail.
So we get the working. It's big and complicated and a wrong move could psychically cripple the poor guy. They discover that Sethvir is right: the hatred is too intermeshed in Lysaer's being, that it can't be unravelled. They discover something I'd already figured out:
Sethvir’s grief came back barbed with white anger. That Desh-thiere’s aspect might attach its possession to the given gift of the s’Ilessid royal line was unthinkable. And yet, there it was: the rest of its meddling essence enmeshed so subtly with Fellowship sorcery that their own review had missed it out.
...so this is also your fault. Too. Still. Again. Sethvir realizes that it got entry through "the one avenue of conscience that he was spell-charged never to question!"
Jesus Christ.
Anyway, Dakar's got amazing timing, because they can hear him outside, talking to someone, commenting on the wards. He's trying to break them open.
So the exorcism continues. They DO end up managing to get the wraith out of Lysaer, but not without after effects. The curse itself is still there, and it's completely warped that whole gift of Justice thing. And they can't correct it without killing Lysaer.
‘There’s always the next generation,’ he said sadly. ‘The wraith, at least, is defeated.’
... Immortals suck.
Sethvir did learn something really unfortunate and upsetting though. The wraith that he'd yanked out of Lysaer had once been human.
Which means that ALL of the doomed spirits that make up the Mistwraith might well have been humans. Egads. And without the Fellowship being at full strength, they can't set these thousands of angry ghosts free.
Okay, well that's the first actual justification for the Black Rose Prophecy you've given me. Thank you. I would like to see thousands of ghosts not suffer, so now I actually do somewhat care if they succeed.
They've finished just in time: the doors clang open. Diegan complains about the darkness, but Dakar explains it's just because Sethvir forgets to light candles. Asandir is annoyed, and asks if this is what Dakar calls keeping Diegan under house arrest.
Dakar realizes pretty quickly that Asandir knew this, or at least something like this, would happen. Asandir explains that they had no means to foresee exactly how the harm would manifest, and with Dakar's two prophecies in conflict, there's no obvious path to choose.
‘I don’t even know my second prophecy.’ Deflected by personal injury, Dakar looked down as if to make sure of the floor. That led him to cast about for something solid to lean on, until sight of Lysaer on the pallet refuelled his disrupted train of enquiry. ‘So you did nothing,’ he berated his Fellowship masters, and rage bled away into a sorry, drunken grizzle. ‘Ah, Ath, like us all, Lysaer trusted you.’
I am glad someone else is as upset as I am about Lysaer getting fucked over. He isn't my favorite (...I like angsty assholes) but he never deserved this. And the man he'd once been would have been horrified at his part in all this.
Diegan, who justifies child slavery, asks if the sorcerers will do nothing now. Um, dude. You can shut up. You're the one guy here without any kind of moral high ground.
Sethvir asks if Diegan wishes their help, and of course, Diegan wishes them all cursed. He asks if they murdered Lysaer because he spoke out against Arithon. Dakar says no, they need Lysaer's gift of light to dispell the shadows that still blight the city. Of course, Diegan uses this time to bitch about them foisting a sorcerer on them as king and the riots happening right now.
Amusingly, because I hate Diegan more than I hate the Fellowship, who are at least sometimes entertainingly assholish, they just ignore him. Sethvir doesn't like the idea of releasing Lysaer before they know Arithon's fate. Asandir notes they haven't a choice. Now that they know what the Mistwraith is made of, they need to get it to a more secure location and that's top priority.
So of course, they're not going to stick around and actually help this mess they've created. Poor Arithon and Lysaer. They've been screwed over so many times, and now they're being left to their own artificially homicidal devices.
Asandir tells Diegan that he'll have what he asked for: "Battle, misunderstanding and a cause to perpetuate bitter hatred", and they wake Lysaer up.
Interestingly, Lysaer's initial reaction seems to be regret. He thinks he had a nightmare, and asks if it's true that he smashed the lyranthe. But then he hears the mob, sees Diegan, and everything's flooded back. He accuses Arithon of causing mayhem and setting shadows and terror in the streets. He wants to know where he is.
...and this is sad:
‘You speak of your half-brother,’ Sethvir rebuked, hoping against chance to shock back some buried spark of conscience.
But Desh-thiere’s curse had imbedded irrevocably deep, and old malice resurfaced in force. ‘He’s bastard-born, and no relation of mine.’
I feel genuinely upset by this.
Asandir points out that he's still trying to spill a kinsman's blood. Lysaer doesn't care and makes that colorfully known.
Diegan and Lysaer leave.
Luhaine returns with some news. Arithon apparently had been busy during all this. Arithon apparently managed to pawn a crown emerald (HAH, fuck you guys), and bribe a locksmith and wagoneers to set all of the children free. (Luhaine got the gem back, though not without "some trouble")
To his credit, Sethvir asks after the children: they've dispersed. Luhaine thinks they'll hide like rabbits then bolt for open country as soon as they can. Arithon's taken his horse and interestingly, a half-canister of a narcotic herb called tienelle from Sethvir's luggage.
For some mysterious reason, Sethvir is happy about this. Maybe he also thinks Arithon deserves to mellow out. But apparently it's got some other use, that Arithon would be trained in. With the garrison after him, he'll need what edge he can get.
Luhaine's also got Kharadmon to reverse the storm. If you remember last chapter, we were told that a storm was redirected away from Etarra for the coronation. Now they're bringing it back to try to foul the garrison's search. More good news: while Sethvir can't find Arithon directly, he found the horse, which is heading north where he'll undoubtedly reach the clansmen.
Dakar thinks that's not great news. As does Luhaine. Both of them think Steiven (who we met earlier!) has only one ambition: to collect the heads of every Etarran guildsmaster. Honestly, I'm on board with that. What with the slavery and genocide. Sethvir thinks a war is better than having Arithon cut dead in an alley.
Heh, there is a funny bit here:
While Asandir in tart chastisement jabbed a toe in the ribs of his apprentice, who seemed inclined to drop off snoring. ‘Arithon dead, don’t forget, would doom your Black Rose Prophecy to failure.’
‘You want Davien back?’ The Mad Prophet opened drink-glazed eyes in martyred affront. That’s fool rotten logic, when his betrayals were what dethroned your high kings in the first place!’
Point, Dakar.
-----
So the last segment of the chapter is Muster:
We rejoin Lysaer and Diegan for this bit. Lysaer is livid, of course. Diegan is curious. He asks if it's true: are Lysaer and Arithon brothers?
Oh...this bit is cold:
Lysaer’s look went straight through him. ‘Would you claim kinship with a byblow forced upon a queen by abduction and rape?’ The little falsehood came easily, that his mother’s flight to embrace her s’Ffalenn paramour had never extended through a year of willing dalliance. A frown marred Lysaer’s features as he wondered upon the memory that, he would once have spoken differently; that he had in some other time challenged his royal father to intercede for the pirate bastard’s comfort.
That event seemed distant, as cut off as a stranger’s memory. Brave, Lysaer had seen himself then; honourable and just. Now, his past pity seemed the puling naivete of a fool, to have invited his own downfall and thrown away heirship in Amroth for adherence to one painful truth. A lie cost so little, in comparison; and by today’s outcome, his losses being permanent and Arithon having shown his true nature, the fib to Diegan might as well have been the plain truth. Feeling giddy and light, as if the burden of heaven’s arch had been unyoked from his shoulders, Lysaer almost laughed.
That's a nasty bit of revisionist history. One that SHOULD be unnecessary, since Arithon is already condemned on his own merits. But this is where Lysaer's tendency to view Arithon as "not like the others" comes spiralling down. Arithon has, to Lysaer's mind, proven his duplicity and evil, so Arithon is just a "pirate bastard" once more. He's never had to rethink the group as a whole.
But notice, notice, for a brief second Lysaer sees the incongruity. It's too late now, but maybe, earlier, if he'd known to expect something bad, then he could have gone to Asandir himself. He didn't hate Arithon immediately. It was a (pretty rapid) slide down.
Diegan notes, darkly, that this means Lysaer is as royal as Arithon. That's not a good thing here, but Lysaer lies easily: he's a king's son but not on Athera. Formally disinherited as a victim of sorcerer's wiles.
Diegan asks if Lysaer's mother was not a s'Ffalenn then, which makes me wonder if Diegan doesn't have a fixation on incest. Remember, he wondered if Arithon was inbred due to his size. Here, he knows Arithon's a s'Ffalenn and both Athera and Dascan Elur appear patrilineal. So he basically was assuming that both of Lysaer's parents were s'Ffalenn??
Anyway, Lysaer clarifies that his mother was the "sadly ravished queen". Ugh.
So anyway, a courier comes with news. First, that they can't go to the council hall to hear the news because it's locked. (Lysaer does reassure Diegan that Traithe wouldn't have harmed the ministers). The courier accuses Lysaer of being a sorcerer's lackey.
The prince who had abjured all rights to royal rank said gently, ‘No. After Arithon’s betrayal, any man’s enmity is fair. Let me prove myself worthy of trust, his, yours, and Etarra’s.’ The prince in his tinsel velvets showed a proud, unpractised majesty, and the result of unprepossessing humbleness clothed in grace and shining wealth combined to powerful effect.
The messenger was moved to stand down. ‘Your pardon, great lord.’ He bent to touch his forelock and stopped, aghast at his dripping knuckles.
Lysaer really does know how to use his purple prose to get results.
So anyway, there are rioters. Extremists on both sides fighting. Farmers with leopard banners wanting land rights (again proving a difference between land ownership and land use on Athera), and guild folk fighting back. Lysaer is thrilled, because he knows how to calm the city.
He starts heading up to the dais, which had been chosen for "favourable visibility and acoustics" for the ceremony. He stops to comfort a farm lad, with a word, touch and light joke that induces the lad to smile. Of course he does.
And as he looks out over the city:
Misgiving for their plights dispelled the disorientation that lingered since Lysaer’s reawakening. Desh-thiere’s realignment of his loyalties was irrevocably complete.
His hour under the wraith’s possession he now blamed on spells laid to daze and confuse him; that the Fellowship would act to abet Arithon’s escape was a foregone conclusion, since they had persistently refused to lend credence to any of his past crimes of piracy. That fallacy must no longer be allowed to hinder mercy. Neither could widespread riots be stopped through hard-edged action. Restored to compassionate perception, Lysaer saw he had been callous to presume that he could loose the full might of his gift and crack the pall of shadow from the sky.
So we're told that the fight against Desh-thiere actually took MONTHS. And during that time, Lysaer has refined his control of his gift. He sends a probe and realizes something important: he'd been assuming that Arithon was still in the city, in order to keep everything dark. But he'd cast "stay-spells" to keep it in place. Arithon bolted. Lysaer is of course angry that he ducked responsibility.
So he very grandly uses his light magic to dispel the shadows. It creates a halo around him, and the citizens all respond to the sight of a glowing man "casting brave challenge against the dark". Diegan calls him "Lysaer of the Light" and says by his grace, the city shall recover.
The crowd embraces the sobriquet immediately. Though a captain with the unfortunate name of Gnudsog warns that they shouldn't be handing him a crown in gratitude. Diegan retorts that what Lysaer wants for his service is the head of the Prince of Rathain. Gnudsog is on board with that.
It takes Lysaer a fucking long time, but he's determined, and well, the struggle really does look good in the eyes of the populace. He's managed to clear the shadows to outside the walls before collapsing in despair. But his dramatic oath that neither dark, nor prince of darkness shall rule in Rathain while he lives is picked up via the very good acoustics, and the crowd cheers.
The shadows end up clearing after midnight of their own accord. By this time, Lysaer's pretty beloved. Gnudsog, for his part, has managed to track Arithon: heading north to the clans of Deshir. He's got a five hour head start.
Everyone's pretty freaked out about that, but of course, Lysaer, "Prince of Light" is willing to offer his aid. He promises help as long and as much as they need it, as long as they're willing to act without hesitation. They need to muster for war. A vote is taken, but it's a formality. Lysaer gets what he wants.
-
At dawn, they get reports that Gnudsog's men weren't able to catch Arithon. Apparently, Arithon stole a remount from a caravan. They weren't able to commandeer mounts themselves because it a) wasn't under Etarran jurisdiction and b) they couldn't offer a bribe to match Arithon's.
Lysaer notes the incongruity of "stole" and "bribe" and this is pretty hilarious:
Basically Arithon knew his speech (like Lysaer's, begging pardon my lord) is too much like the barbarians. So he fired a supply tent for diversion, brought down shadows, stole a carthouse, but left a cloak pin fixed to the picket-line set with a huge ass emerald.
Okay, I love this. The Fellowship was all "we can't tell him about the magic emeralds" so of course, now that he's not being crowned, he's selling them all. Why the fuck not?
...I find I like the Fellowship a little more now that their chickens are coming home to roost. It takes artistry to fuck up this badly.
-----
So we reach the sneak peek section: Sojourns.
1. Morriel summons Lirenda. She notes that Arithon has fled. And now there's some concern about whether or not Elaira knew anything about this. Suddenly, her misadventure in Erdane is looking more troublesome.
Poor Elaira, she's constantly screwed over indirectly as the brothers get screwed directly, without even any of the dubious perks.
2. Asandir and Dakar are racing to where the Mistwraith is imprisoned in the hope of moving it somewhere else. And the storm is falling.
3. A fugitive is riding hunched against the rain.
--
Well, THAT was eventful. Satisfying in one sense, as I enjoy seeing all of the shit that I complained about all along actually have a point. The Fellowship royally fucked up here. A lot. And at least SOME of that is explicitly called out in the text.
I also like that we finally have SOME reason to maybe want the Fellowship reunited. There are a lot of suffering humans attached to the Mistwraith who deserve release.
It's also fun to see how the very traits that Lysaer had assumed would be useless without a throne are actually serving him quite well in terms of his populist takeover of the city. He's got charm, he's got diplomacy, and he's got that built in sense of melodrama that makes it all work for him.
Of course, he's also been cursed into unnatural hatred and is trying to hunt down his younger half-brother. But you can't have everything. Next time, we'll see how ARITHON is weathering this curse.
This chapter is called "Coronation Day".
I expect some excitement.
No false advertising here. The chapter starts "an hour past sunrise" on the day appointed for Arithon's coronation. Dakar has come bearing clothes and annoyance. He's been ordered to watch Arithon dress and make sure he leaves nothing out. Arithon, who is [c]urled in the windowseat with his lyranthe lying silent across his knees, because of course he is, banters back that he suspects that Dakar's orders are directed toward Dakar as well. And indeed, there are actually clothes for Dakar in the pile as well.
I really enjoy Dakar and Arithon's dynamic of constant irritation.
‘Well, let’s say your accession to Rathain’s throne isn’t a balm to anybody’s temper!’ Still distressed over Lysaer’s endangerment at the time of the Mistwraith’s confinement, Dakar vented his resentment upon the prince at hand. ‘Where were you last night?’
‘Not drinking, nor with a woman.’ Lightly, lovingly, Arithon dusted a finger across his strings. A haunting minor chord sighed forth; then, since even that slight sound galled like salt in an open sore, he laid his instrument aside. The eyes he turned upon Dakar were sharp and terrible for their emptiness. ‘Is there anything else?’
But the Mad Prophet refused to be baited. ‘If you were gallivanting again in the poor quarter you’d better have taken a bath.’
1. I appreciate that someone is bothered by the Fellowship's treatment of Lysaer. Unfortunately, Dakar takes it out on Arithon, the one person besides Lysaer who has absolutely no control over that. Asander has fucked over both brothers in ways that neither is truly aware of yet.
2. Dakar's role in Mistwraith isn't terribly significant. Of our main four, he's got the smallest role, being neither a schemer nor a target of the scheme. It's a shame because in a lot of ways, he's by far the most relatable. Happily, he gets a much bigger role in the sequel, Ships of Merior.
3. Speaking of, there's something rather fascinating about the way Dakar remembers the events of this book in Ships of Merior, that's worth poking at a little. Dakar remembers himself and Lysaer being essentially best friends on this trip. While that probably is true for Dakar, as being the apprentice of the Fellowship seems a pretty fucking thankless job, it really doesn't seem to be for Lysaer. If Lysaer was closest to anyone on this trip, it was Arithon, not Dakar. Sometimes it seemed like he barely tolerated Dakar, but was only the one too nice to say so. Though other times they did genuinely seem to have fun.
I wonder if it's not meant to be an example of Lysaer's charisma: that he makes everyone feel as though they are very important friends of his.
4. "galled like salt in an open sore". Oh, the melodrama. Dakar's complete immunity to Arithon's tragedy is pretty awesome. They're an underrated partnership.
Speaking of melodrama:
Arithon stripped off his shirt. Marked yet by the physical scars from his past failed effort at sovereignty, he surveyed the array of kingly trappings in bright-eyed, self-mocking distaste. ‘Let’s have this over with.’
He dressed himself while Dakar passed garments in roughly the appropriate order: silver-grey hose, white silk shirt, black tunic with leopard-fur edging. Next, the ceremonial accessories that symbolized a sovereign’s tie to the land: the belt of wooden discs inlaid with royal seals in abalone; the deer-hide boots studded with river stone and tied with feather-tipped thongs; the cabochon emerald set in silver that he pinned above his heart. The fabrics held no scent beyond a hint of sweetgrass that lingered from the ritual blessing worked an hour earlier by the Fellowship. The fine-stitched tracery of interlace borders, the ribboned cuffs and hems bespoke tailoring unmatched in Etarra. When and where such masterwork had been done, Arithon refused to ask.
Among the belongings is a truly hideous sword sheath that supposedly is a gift from the ladies of Etarra. This might be genuine or a prank of Dakar. Who knows. We have more dramatic dressing as Arithon puts on his deeply symbolic silver circlet.
As soon as he does, poor Dakar has a vision:
Dakar chose that moment to look up. Imprinted against the amber casement, he saw Arithon’s face crossed by the shining band that preceded Rathain’s vested sovereignty. Chills roughened the Mad Prophet’s flesh. One split-second of vertigo was all the forewarning he received.
Then in a rush, his seer’s talent claimed him wholly as instrument.
Trance shocked through him with such force that his mind became emptied. Dakar dropped to his knees.
A vision burned through: of a square milling with people, among them Arithon, who drove in heedless, driven panic between tight-packed factions of Etarra merchants. The image formed fully and shattered, buried by a static blast of whiteness as a second shock slammed Dakar’s innermind.
Vaguely aware that his voice shouted meaningless phrases, the Mad Prophet felt himself falling. His downward rush into darkness was suddenly and sickeningly arrested by a hand that caught and yanked him back.
No wonder the poor guy self-medicates. Anyway, Arithon's got an arm around his shoulders, holding him upright. He helps Dakar lie down, and walking bit of symbolism that he is, he's very much in disarray:
The royal tabard was rucked askew. Both of the prince’s silk sleeves were blotched with perspiration. Whatever slight tolerance Arithon had attained toward kingship appeared to have fled in a moment. Against skin shocked to pallor, the hair dragged flat beneath the circlet crossed his forehead like penstrokes scribbled upon parchment. Wild-eyed as any cornered animal, the Shadow Master half-forced, half-propelled Dakar across the floor.
Dakar wants to know what he said. Arithon just says that he "foretold disaster". His hands are shaking. This leads Dakar to blow a pretty big secret when he asks if Desh-thiere has some kind of hold on Lysaer.
Mere supposition drove Arithon to an explosive step back. ‘Would that were all.’ He snatched up the sword which rested unsheathed near the regalia he had not yet put on. ‘Where’s the sorcerer who should be here on guard?’
But a search of the dimmest alcoves where a discorporate mage was wont to lurk showed Luhaine nowhere in evidence. In dread that some dire facet of Dakar’s prophecy had compelled the Fellowship guardian to abandon him, Arithon spun back toward the divan. ‘Where’s Asandir!’
Given that Arithon did NOT recoil in shock at that question means we can probably assume that Dakar did say worse. In fact, he seems to be freaking the fuck out, even to the point of holding his sword at Dakar's throat and demanding Asandir's location. Dakar tells him: Asandir's in council.
‘Arithon!’ Dakar shoved up on one elbow. ‘What did I see in that trance?’
For a split second it seemed Rathain’s prince would not stem his frantic rush. But as the latch wrenched open under his hand, he threw back in anguished haste, ‘Dakar, as you love peace, if you care for my half-brother, keep him from me! For if we’re brought face to face the terms of your prophecy shall be met. The result will end in a bloodbath.’
Well. This sounds bad. Very very bad.
-
We scene shift to the council hall of Etarra. It's all bedecked for the coronation. That's of course not stopping the councilmen from griping and plotting, but Asandir is busy. Apparently, Commander Diegan is also busy having "invited that fair-haired flunky, Lysaer, for an after-breakfast social." Diegan's sister is apparently quite infatuated.
Morfett is pretty adamant that today, tomorrow, or next year, Arithon will be overthrown. And he's very happy to see Asandir looking stressed and suddenly talking to Traithe.
They may need the raven for messages. Though why, I don't know, seeing as how Asandir has just gotten word from Sethvir: Lysaer's in trouble. "The pattern that encompasses his Name has drifted." Also, Luhaine, who you may recall above had disappeared from Dakar and Arithon's presence, has reported the premonition. You know, instead of actually helping the dude who's sick from it, or the guy who's going to be the target of it. But it sounds pretty bad. Lysaer apparently might actually be harbouring one of the mistwraith's wraiths himself. "One mistimed judgement and we'll have no crowned king, nor a restored Fellowship, just panic and bloodshed in the streets."
You know, dude. It kind of serves you right?
Morfett's pretty happy to have heard this and intends to go report this to the council. Traithe basically knocks him out sneakily and pretends he's overcome by the heat.
--
Now to Lysaer. He's been invited for wine after breakfast. And something is happening:
Lysaer suddenly flushed. A wave of heat swept through him, followed by bone-deep chill. Quickly, he set down his goblet, before his unsteady hand sloshed the contents. Alarmed that he might have succumbed to sudden fever, Lysaer touched his forehead. A second wave of disorientation passed through him. He stiffened, transfixed by fear; for an instant he felt as if his mind spun to blankness, his self-awareness overturned by a will other than his own.
The sensation cleared a heartbeat later. Lysaer shivered in silly relief. He was just tired, not quite himself. Arithon’s coronation presented no crisis; his momentary faintness surely had been due to nerves and imagination, a residual distress left by the nightmares that had plagued him off and on since Ithamon. As the patterned brocade chair that supported him swam clearly back into focus, Lysaer looked up.
I'm sure everything is fine.
He tries to get the thread of conversation back. And wow. These people are terrible:
Diegan interrupted and took up what had been a bristling argument. ‘But the children who work in the warehouses are not the get of the free poor, as your puppet-prince led you to think.’ Etarra’s commander of the guard set down the crystal goblet that he had toyed with for the past half hour. His wine sloshed untasted as he said, ‘These wretches that Arithon would champion are in fact the offspring of condemned criminals, clanblood barbarians who have harassed the trade-routes with thievery and murder for generations.’
Wow. So basically, these kids deserve to suffer because their parents are criminals and barbarians. Wow, Etarra is gross. And really, Asandir and company, I think it's going to take more than just naming some guy king to fix this bullshit.
I'd like to think that Lysaer, in his right mind, would tear this apart. Lysaer can sometimes be blind to privilege and judgmental, but he's not cruel. The tragedy is, I think if he'd heard this kind of thing a few chapters ago, he might have found it easier to understand Maenalle and her fellows.
But is he in his right mind?
Heat chased cold across Lysaer’s skin. He resisted an urge to blot his brow, willed aside his unsettled condition and studied the city’s Lord Commander, whose finery and intellect made him more courtier than soldier and whose words fanned up like dry cobwebs the clinging spectre of past doubts.
S’Ffalenn pirates on Dascen Elur had repeatedly manipulated political sore points to stir unrest and further their marauding feud against Amroth.
Lysaer snapped back to present circumstance with an inward lash of chastisement. This was Etarra, not Port Royal and Arithon was not as his ancestors. More musician than buccaneer, he had been the sworn heir of a murderer in a past that no longer mattered. Fair minded, Lysaer pushed off his uneasiness. ‘Do you suggest Rathain’s prince would lie to discredit the city council?’
That mention of s'Ffalenn pirates is a little chilling actually. All along, I've said that if he actually asked Arithon about the pirates' motives, maybe he'd understand him better and understand the clansfolk better. But this maybe sounds like he DOES know what was happening in Karthan. He just doesn't believe it.
And we get another example of Lysaer splitting Arithon off from his ancestors. Arithon is special. A musician, not a pirate. Even though they met when Arithon was captured from the pirate ship he served on.
Anyway, Diegan suggests Arithon's in league with the Fellowship plan to see Etarra given to the barbarians, and would act accordingly.
Never at ease with Arithon’s mage-trained evasiveness, Lysaer re-examined matters from that angle. Only this morning, Dakar had staggered in from his rounds of the taverns and attested in slurred certainty that Arithon had not spent last night drinking in any man’s company. ‘Wherever he was, only Daelion knows. His Grace himself’s not saying.’
Lysaer blinked, pricked by association. This day’s musician, who begged to be spared from royal position, was one and the same man as the chained sorcerer who had burned seven ships, then baited Amroth’s council at trial with his own life offered as gambit.
I feel like I'm excerpting too much, but it's all kind of important to show the quick, yet gradual twist of Lysaer's thoughts. He doesn't immediately go "my brother is actually evil." But as Diegan and Talith speak, his mind keeps going back to the old feuds and Arithon's early actions. Really, it probably doesn't matter what Diegan or Talith say, but their words provide direction.
And my own prophecy proves true: Arithon is incapable of taking an action that doesn't either screw himself over now, or later.
And another thing that maybe we all forgot. Lysaer is a fair man, and a good man, and over the course of eleven chapters or so (...probably closer to thirty three, since each chapter is divided into three substantial segments), we've seen that he does truly care about his brother.
But Lysaer is also a man who beat a man to death in the desert. The only reason Arithon is still alive is that magic fountain. He's always had that darkness in him.
Lysaer's not fallen yet though. He knows the Fellowship's intentions aren't harmful, and it's not his place to deny Arithon his inheritance. But Talith scores a point too, when she presses that Lysaer doubts Arithon. And Lysaer promises that on behalf of the city, he'll question Arithon, who is secretive and crafty, but has never lied in direct confrontation. Diegan gets him to promise to share his findings before the coronation.
The room, the wine and the company seemed suddenly too rich. Lysaer strove to recoup his composure. Sleepless nights and troubled dreams had sown his mind with unworthy confusion. For even if Arithon’s sympathies were misguided, the thorns in seeing justice done remained: the labourers enslaved in guild service were still children, ill fed, inadequately clothed and poorly housed. Although for simplicity’s sake it would relieve a vicious quandary to fault them for the crimes of their ancestors, their plight deserved unbiased review. If Arithon would champion their cause, he must defend his decision to repudiate the city council’s policies.
Lysaer's not completely far gone, but the burden of proof shouldn't be Arithon's. The council should have to justify enslaving children. Arithon shouldn't have to justify changing that.
Then there's a commotion outside: Dakar and Asandir. They're trying to come in. Lysaer tries to open the door, but finds it jammed. Diegan tries too, and the door becomes hot eough to raise blisters, though it causes no physical mark. Spellcraft.
Lysaer has another bout: the room flickers in and out of existence for a moment. His ears are buzzing. And he's suddenly filled with rage. Who but Arithon would have dared to interfere; the poisoned conclusion followed, that if the s’Ffalenn bastard was to blame, distrust of Etarra’s council was emphatically misplaced.
They can hear Dakar and Asandir talking outside. Dakar admits to binding the door latch, as Arithon had begged him to keep the brothers separate.
There's a really interesting moment where Talith pulls Lysaer aside, and he has a shock "for her unmannerly presumption", something even he realizes is uncharacteristically irascible. I think this may be a hint about what the curse is actually doing as it twists him against Arithon. Lysaer is always proper and dignified, but the response is exaggerated here. The curse may be exaggerating other traits as well.
Like a pre-disposition to justice. Thanks, Fellowship.
So he asks the siblings to help him get out so he can find Arithon and ask him for the truth. Talith does so, while Diegan stays behind to face Asandir. Asandir tries to question him, asking if he noticed Lysaer suffering a lack of awareness or a momentary drifting. For once, he even explains: "For if you noticed such a lapse, your friend could be endangered. One of Desh-thiere’s separate wraiths may have evaded captivity. If, unbeknownst to us, such a creature came to possess Lysaer, all of Etarra could be threatened."
Unfortunately, the recipient of such very rare honesty is Diegan, who is far too self-interested to care. He just says that when Lysaer left, he seemed in perfect self-command. Asandir orders Diegan kept under house arrest. Dakar is to stay with him.
If Diegan weren't an asshole who justifies child slavery, I might like this bit:
Diegan offered a chair and pressed a filled goblet upon the Mad Prophet. ‘Then let’s forgo sanity also and both get rippingly drunk.’
--
Our scene shifts to Traithe in the council room. Despite the fact that he'd sealed it with magic, the door blasts open. It's Arithon, demanding to know where Asandir is. This show of sorcery naturally freaks out the council, who shout that the dread rumors are true.
Well, fuck. If you recall, sorcery is punishable by very nasty death in Etarra. They may tolerate the Fellowship, but only because the Fellowship is too powerful to do anything about. Arithon is not that powerful. But Arithon's got bigger problems.
Traithe tells him what's going on and warns him the streets aren't safe. Arithon can't exactly stay here though. The council already wanted him dead, now they're keyed up worse. And they likely have enough daggers and jeweled pins to pull an Ides of March on him.
Having interposed his own person between the threatened prince and the dignitaries in the chamber at large, Traithe sorted limited options. That Luhaine seemed nowhere in evidence was sure indication that the nexus of change forecast in the strands at Althain Tower had fully and finally been crossed. The wrong intervention now might displace the sequence of events that framed Dakar’s Black Rose Prophecy. Traithe raged at his impaired powers; unlike his colleagues, he could not gauge the broad import of this crisis at a glance. The best he could offer was a gesture. ‘My bird will lead the straightest course toward Sethvir.’
You know what? Fuck your fucking Black Rose Prophecy. Maybe if you'd talked to the brothers, warned them, this could have been avoided. Lysaer actually did notice the change in his own behavior toward Talith. He might have noticed it toward Arithon too, if he knew it was coming. But no, you had to sacrifice both for a dream future that might not happen anyway.
So Arithon flees, and Traithe uses magic to put the council asleep. And he has the fucking nerve to think that, but for Dakar's predictions concerning the Fellowship's recovery, Arithon might have been able to return here for sanctuary.
No, actually. This isn't Dakar's fault. Dakar may have made the prediction, but you assholes made the decision, no input from Dakar, Lysaer or Arithon required.
(And even now, this scene ends with Traithe trying to figure out what hope could be salvaged for the Black Rose Prophecy. Fuck the brothers, of course.)
-
Back to Lysaer. And this is interesting: he can sense the sorcerers trying to find him, but realizes that they're searching for him via a "pattern" that doesn't match his personality any longer. Lysaer never stops to realize that this isn't knowledge that he's supposed to have. It's mage-trained insight.
Hm. It seems like MAYBE the plan to sacrifice Lysaer because Arithon's mage knowledge would be too dangerous for the Mistwraith may have been the WRONG DECISION.
And indeed, the curse is using Lysaer's traits against him:
Every quandary that tormented his conscience and broke his night’s rest with disturbed dreams had narrowed into sudden, lucent focus.
Lysaer gave a laugh in self-derision. He had fought so hard to give Arithon the benefit of the doubt that objectivity itself became obstructive. He shivered and sweated, berating his idealistic foolishness. He had only to question all along. For if Arithon was established as a liar, the ongoing weeks of heartsick recrimination might at one stroke become banished. Avar’s bastard as a proven criminal presented Lysaer with moral duty to defend the merchants and townsmen.
A resolution in favour of complaints he understood would be a frank relief.
...we've seen this before. In the very first chapter, when face to face with the prisoner that was his half brother. When Arithon asked for a mercy that Lysaer couldn't grant, his reaction hadn't been to get angry at his father for putting him in that position, but Arithon himself for making him feel guilty.
We saw it with Maenalle, and his difficulty rationalizing the clansmen actions against his ingrained sympathy for the townsfolk.
Like Dakar said: Lysaer's gift/curse is to look for justice even when there isn't any. And when it isn't simple, his resentment flares at the victim who makes him rethink things. Not the powerful figures who set this up.
In his right mind, Lysaer is a good person whose inclination to fairness will at least inspire him to try to parse through his feelings and biases, once he's alerted to them. But tragically, Lysaer isn't in his right mind anymore. And we get a very unsubtle demonstration of this:
Stray dogs that skulked across his path whined and shrank from his scent. When a braver bitch snarled and hounded his track, he dispatched a flick of light and stung her to yelping flight.
That cruelty to any animal would have been beyond him just minutes before never once crossed Lysaer’s mind. He picked his way over cracked paving and discarded bits of broken pottery and emerged from the alley into the brighter main thoroughfare.
And it's about to get worse.
Because now Lysaer's gone home to Morfett's house. He's standing in Arithon's room, and the curse is still working:
The callous character of its occupant stood revealed to casual inspection: in a king’s cloak left crumpled into the cushions of a divan, and the gift of a carbuncle scabbard spurned and abandoned on the floor.
Lysaer scowled, that the sacred trust of royal heritage should suffer such careless usage. Only the lyranthe lovingly couched on the windowseat gave testament to the heart of the man.
Urged by a pang so indistinct he could not fathom its origin, Lysaer crossed the echoing floor. By the time he reached the alcove, his feelings had fanned into rage. He shouted to the room’s empty corners, ‘Are Rathain’s people of less account than minstrelsy?’
Silence mocked him back. The silver strings sparkled sharp highlights, mute, but all the same promising dalliance.
Rathain’s prince would be reft from distractions; Etarra’s needs would be served. Lysaer reached out and struck the instrument a flying blow with his forearm.
Parchment-thin wood, spell-spun silver, all of Elshian’s irreplaceable craftwork sailed in an arc above the floor tiles. The belling dissonance of impact lost voice as the lyranthe’s sound-chamber smashed and each scattered splinter whispered separately to rest in a swathe of trammelled sunlight.
‘You cannot hide, pirate’s bastard,’ Lysaer vowed. Heat and chills racked his flesh as he spun, crunching over fragments, and burst back through the breached doorway.
And now the lyranthe justifies its presence. The lyranthe had seemed like a very unnecessary addition to the plot. It's a priceless antique, sure, but so is the sword. And while Arithon's use of music as self-consolation has been a thread throughout the book, it could have worked just as well if the lyranthe had been a gift from Fellirin.
But the symbolism is important. It's like that moment in Grimm, where Juliette, who is no longer in her right mind, torches the trailer. It's an act of violence and desecration, in which something impossibly historically priceless is destroyed only for the purpose of hurting another person.
Back outside, Lysaer is playing the crowd with his "ingrained gallantries of his upbringing." He's patting the cheeks of children, offering kind words to the people and just being all lordly grace. They think that Rathain's prince must be like him: "tall and fair-spoken and pledged to end the corruption in Etarra's trade guilds and council."
Well, one of three isn't bad. Lysaer just thinks about how he himself had been "misled" by Arithon, even though he actually lost blood kin to s'Ffalenn wiles.
Eventually a well-meaning person directs him to "the galleries", where he'll get a better view. Lysaer doesn't have an invitation, but the matron is happy to help. Lysaer thinks about how "the dreams and the lives of just such honest folk were the first things Arithon's machinations would tear asunder".
So Lysaer searches for Arithon from his viewpoint. He doesn't see him, but he does see Traithe's raven. This dire warning of Fellowship doings (...I can't really blame him for that one) is eclipsed though by the sudden arrival of his quarry.
Lysaer sees Arithon, who has been uncharacteristically stupid. He's hidden his heraldic tabard with a cloak, but he's still wearing the fucking circlet of inheritance. Lysaer sees the cloak and "realizes" that Arithon is running away, "breaking his commitment to his realm".
Lysaer is, if you haven't noticed, pretty fucking insane. Arithon's going to destroy these people's lives as king. How dare he run away from his responsibilities?!
Lysaer isn't without recourse.
From his unobstructed place at the rail, he drew himself up to full height. Delineated by a nimbus of sunlight, his hair gleamed bright gold and his presence seemed charged with righteous wrath as any angel sent from Athlieria to scour the land of bleak evil.
Lysaer raised his hand and singled out the slight, dishevelled fugitive that elbowed and shoved to escape the square, then lifted his voice in a thunderous shout.
‘People of Etarra, behold the prince you would crown king and hear truth! Your lands have been restored to fair sunlight, yet one lives who can wield darkness more dire than any mist! Arithon Teir’s’Ffalenn is full Master of Shadow, a sorcerer who would succour barbarians and waste your fine city to ashes!’
Two merchants grab Arithon who looks up at the raven.
To Lysaer, watching, the gesture affirmed s’Ffalenn guilt. A prince who was innocent of machinations would never count a dumb beast above his subjects or his own threatened fate. Jolted to savage antagonism; unaware he was the manipulated instrument of Desh-thiere’s fugitive wraith, Lysaer raised rigid hands to call his gift…
I really am using too many excerpts. But I just really get caught up in how the curse works. How it twists everything Lysaer sees and feels into something else. It's so pervasive and insidious.
-
We shift scenes to Asandir, Setvir and company who are stuck, helplessly watching either physically or magically. (Sorrow and grief the strands foretold, were the Fellowship to stand restored to Seven; but with a second, unanticipated forecast entangled on top of the first, the validity of Dakar’s Black Rose Prophecy stood threatened. God, fuck your fucking prophecy!). They realize they can't do anything to get Arithon to safety right now.
I won't begrudge them their favoritism at this point. Lysaer didn't deserve to be the sacrifice, but Arithon's an innocent party to that. But god, fuck the fucking prophecy.
And then, of course, things go horribly horribly wrong. More.
Because Lysaer blasts his light magic at Arithon. Arithon gets free, just fast enough to raise his sword. And because it belongs to Arithon, it gets its own bit of purple prose: Alithiel’s Paravian-wrought protections sheared out a chord of pure heart-break, sure proof the defending cause was just.
The "vigilantes" grabbing Arithon force his sword arm down. Now of course, since it's Arithon, he doesn't even think of trying to use the sword against the people trying to capture him. He's only focused on Lysaer's attack.
Asandir somehow manages to blame Dakar for this:
Asandir’s hand was forced, the full might of his protections engaged to shield helpless bystanders from harm. He cursed fate, agonized that Dakar’s new vision had upset the strands’ forecast and precipitated crisis too soon. No coronation could take place now. On every side of the square, people were screaming, flash-blinded and whipped to stampede in raw terror that their city was being savaged by sorcery.
Hey, fuckwad. YOU KNEW THIS WAS HAPPENING. You willingly sacrificed Lysaer, because Arithon's knowledge was too dangerous, and because Arithon taking the throne is necessary for your stupid fucking prophecy. This is NOT Dakar's fault. What do you think would have happened if Lysaer had come home to find Arithon defenseless in the fucking house?
Unfortunately, we learn the downside to Alithiel. The lights are pretty but they only really serve to dazzle an opponent or divert an unjust attack. The magic can't be used to take a life. I THINK this means that Arithon can kill something with it AS A SWORD, but that the magic won't help with that. Otherwise, why the fuck make it a sword to begin with?
Anyway, because Lysaer's got an ingrained mastery of light, he can't be blinded by the sword's flash. Interesting!
And then Lysaer aims a blast toward the raven instead. Arithon ends up relinquishing the sword so he can protect it with shadow. The next light blast takes Arithon directly in the raised palm. It hurts like a motherfucker. But Asandir realizes that it's worse than that.
Lysaer's bolt was infused with a "bane-spell", which means that the homicidal rage curse that's taken Lysaer? Has now infected Arithon as well.
Thunder pealed. For a heartbeat the packed square was rinsed scarlet, a tableau borrowed from nightmare. As Desh-thiere’s curse claimed its foothold, Arithon’s expression shifted from resistance and pain to a hatred that abjured all redemption. In purest, bloody-hearted passion, he howled and wrought shadow in answer to Lysaer’s betrayal.
The air stung under a savage bite of frost and darkness slammed over Etarra.
Night swallowed all without distinction, from Traithe’s raven that yet flew unharmed on its faithful straight course for Sethvir, to four vigilante merchants exposed to the backwash of murdering force shed from the Shadow Master’s person. Cut down in sudden death, they lay twitching and seared amid smouldering brocades. Citizens scattered in fear from a carnage past the grasp of sane experience.
So this is fucking bad. And also, pretty much the exact thing you idiots sacrificed Lysaer to avoid. Oops.
But maybe not, as:
Blackness dropped also like a curtain over the most ill-starred victim of them all, the s’Ilessid prince enslaved and ruined by the usage of Desh-thiere’s loose wraith. Emptied by the powers that had driven him, Lysaer folded at the knees and collapsed against the gallery rail.
Is it over?
--
The next section is Backlash.
Sethvir has secured the armory that he'd been in when this all started, and now it's serving as the Fellowship base of operations. And admittedly, while I pretty much put all of this at their feet, it's also true that they might be the only people that can help this mess now.
And it sounds like there's quite a fucking mess:
Like individual currents in a cataract, he sensed the mobs that rampaged through streets battened black under shadow; restive city guardsmen who formed bands and drew steel to skewer any sorcerer they could search out and harry to final reckoning. Sethvir knew families mewed up in locked houses; he touched the spilled blood of the innocent, heard the cries of the raped, knew the rage and despair of the looted. Need left scant space for grief. He could set only small seals of peace.
Okay, look, I get that there's been a big tragedy here. But neither Lysaer nor Arithon have committed or advocated rape. That's all the people of Etarra. I'm seeing very little to contradict Maenalle's assertion that this place should be razed to the fucking ground.
Asandir appears, using some kind of nifty Fellowship teleporting, carrying Lysaer's unconscious body in his arms.
Clear-cut as a cameo, the prince’s profile reflected the inborn nobility of his lineage; no shadow showed of the evil that had blighted life and honour. Unwitting pawn of ill circumstance, Lysaer had yet to waken and feel the change that disbarred him from royal inheritance.
Poor, tragic Lysaer.
Oh god, fucking, damnit:
Sethvir avoided Asandir’s eyes, which were steel-bleak. The hands, too fierce in their grip, that crinkled fine lace and blue tinsel; his stance, forced and graceless from the sorrows unspoken between them: that after today’s unconscionable sacrifice, the s’Ffalenn coronation had not happened.
The result did not bear mention, that the precarious Black Rose Prophecy, which keyed Davien the Betrayer’s repentance and the return of Ciladis the Lost, should be left unresolved and in jeopardy.
Look, if a reunified Fellowship is that important, I need to have a better idea why. Right now, the sorcerers just look like fucking assholes.
Though there is some awareness of that, as the narrative notes that they'd traded Athera's peace to guarantee a reunification of the Fellowship, but still have no guarantee it'll happen. ("every atrocity that swept Etarra's streets might have been set loose in vain".)
Ughhh.
Sethvir tells Asandir that he can't blame himself. And really, I think he FUCKING CAN. Asandir thinks they were remiss not to look for possession. "Across time?" Sethvir asks, and um, yes. You made that determination last chapter?
Anyway, Luhaine shows up to tell them that he's lost track of Arithon, who apparently ran for it after taking out Lysaer. I don't blame the guy one bit. His life-pattern has "drifted severely" as well. They're both affected by the curse.
They're realizing that this is more than possession. (And in an intriguing character beat, Asandir tells Luhaine to "let Cal work" so he can answer their questions. "That Asandir used Sethvir’s ancient and all but forgotten mortal Name laid bare the depth of his distress.").
So Sethvir figures out the point of the curse. Basically, the Mistwraith had figured out that its bane was a set of two, and thus decided to set them against each other, cursing them to hatred. That tracks with what we saw, yes.
Hah! Hilariously, Sethvir also discovers that their whole intention of priorizing Arithon over Lysaer was the exact WRONG thing to do. The Mistraith had already gotten the scope of Arithon's training when it made brief contact with him outside Ithamon. So it already had what they were trying to keep from it. And WORSE, Arithon's training might have actually deflected the attack. Or sensed the wraith before it could possess him.
‘Dharkaron damn us for fools, we threw the wrong prince into jeopardy.’ Yeah. And maybe you could have talked to them about your concerns first? Instead of choosing one to sacrifice willy nilly?
And remember how I said that Arithon's incapable of making a decision that doesn't screw him over? The foothold that Desh-thiere uses for revenge is that time that Arithon used magic against Lysaer in the desert, in an attempt to keep him alive.
Hah. Of fucking course.
WORSE: the Mistwraith learned from the bindings that Kharadmon had used on Lysaer (with consent admittedly) and tied its curse up into their life forces. There's no way to undo it without killing them.
...I mean, you could just kill Lysaer?
I mean, that's an asshole thing to suggest of course. This isn't Lysaer's fault. But well. You already sacrificed him before. And you apparently need Arithon for the stupid prophecy you care about. And he's right there, while Arithon is in the wind. So...why not?
Okay, to be fair, it seems like Asandir at least is thinking about it. They're going to try to exorcise the thing possessing Lysaer, and they'll have to kill him if they fail.
So we get the working. It's big and complicated and a wrong move could psychically cripple the poor guy. They discover that Sethvir is right: the hatred is too intermeshed in Lysaer's being, that it can't be unravelled. They discover something I'd already figured out:
Sethvir’s grief came back barbed with white anger. That Desh-thiere’s aspect might attach its possession to the given gift of the s’Ilessid royal line was unthinkable. And yet, there it was: the rest of its meddling essence enmeshed so subtly with Fellowship sorcery that their own review had missed it out.
...so this is also your fault. Too. Still. Again. Sethvir realizes that it got entry through "the one avenue of conscience that he was spell-charged never to question!"
Jesus Christ.
Anyway, Dakar's got amazing timing, because they can hear him outside, talking to someone, commenting on the wards. He's trying to break them open.
So the exorcism continues. They DO end up managing to get the wraith out of Lysaer, but not without after effects. The curse itself is still there, and it's completely warped that whole gift of Justice thing. And they can't correct it without killing Lysaer.
‘There’s always the next generation,’ he said sadly. ‘The wraith, at least, is defeated.’
... Immortals suck.
Sethvir did learn something really unfortunate and upsetting though. The wraith that he'd yanked out of Lysaer had once been human.
Which means that ALL of the doomed spirits that make up the Mistwraith might well have been humans. Egads. And without the Fellowship being at full strength, they can't set these thousands of angry ghosts free.
Okay, well that's the first actual justification for the Black Rose Prophecy you've given me. Thank you. I would like to see thousands of ghosts not suffer, so now I actually do somewhat care if they succeed.
They've finished just in time: the doors clang open. Diegan complains about the darkness, but Dakar explains it's just because Sethvir forgets to light candles. Asandir is annoyed, and asks if this is what Dakar calls keeping Diegan under house arrest.
Dakar realizes pretty quickly that Asandir knew this, or at least something like this, would happen. Asandir explains that they had no means to foresee exactly how the harm would manifest, and with Dakar's two prophecies in conflict, there's no obvious path to choose.
‘I don’t even know my second prophecy.’ Deflected by personal injury, Dakar looked down as if to make sure of the floor. That led him to cast about for something solid to lean on, until sight of Lysaer on the pallet refuelled his disrupted train of enquiry. ‘So you did nothing,’ he berated his Fellowship masters, and rage bled away into a sorry, drunken grizzle. ‘Ah, Ath, like us all, Lysaer trusted you.’
I am glad someone else is as upset as I am about Lysaer getting fucked over. He isn't my favorite (...I like angsty assholes) but he never deserved this. And the man he'd once been would have been horrified at his part in all this.
Diegan, who justifies child slavery, asks if the sorcerers will do nothing now. Um, dude. You can shut up. You're the one guy here without any kind of moral high ground.
Sethvir asks if Diegan wishes their help, and of course, Diegan wishes them all cursed. He asks if they murdered Lysaer because he spoke out against Arithon. Dakar says no, they need Lysaer's gift of light to dispell the shadows that still blight the city. Of course, Diegan uses this time to bitch about them foisting a sorcerer on them as king and the riots happening right now.
Amusingly, because I hate Diegan more than I hate the Fellowship, who are at least sometimes entertainingly assholish, they just ignore him. Sethvir doesn't like the idea of releasing Lysaer before they know Arithon's fate. Asandir notes they haven't a choice. Now that they know what the Mistwraith is made of, they need to get it to a more secure location and that's top priority.
So of course, they're not going to stick around and actually help this mess they've created. Poor Arithon and Lysaer. They've been screwed over so many times, and now they're being left to their own artificially homicidal devices.
Asandir tells Diegan that he'll have what he asked for: "Battle, misunderstanding and a cause to perpetuate bitter hatred", and they wake Lysaer up.
Interestingly, Lysaer's initial reaction seems to be regret. He thinks he had a nightmare, and asks if it's true that he smashed the lyranthe. But then he hears the mob, sees Diegan, and everything's flooded back. He accuses Arithon of causing mayhem and setting shadows and terror in the streets. He wants to know where he is.
...and this is sad:
‘You speak of your half-brother,’ Sethvir rebuked, hoping against chance to shock back some buried spark of conscience.
But Desh-thiere’s curse had imbedded irrevocably deep, and old malice resurfaced in force. ‘He’s bastard-born, and no relation of mine.’
I feel genuinely upset by this.
Asandir points out that he's still trying to spill a kinsman's blood. Lysaer doesn't care and makes that colorfully known.
Diegan and Lysaer leave.
Luhaine returns with some news. Arithon apparently had been busy during all this. Arithon apparently managed to pawn a crown emerald (HAH, fuck you guys), and bribe a locksmith and wagoneers to set all of the children free. (Luhaine got the gem back, though not without "some trouble")
To his credit, Sethvir asks after the children: they've dispersed. Luhaine thinks they'll hide like rabbits then bolt for open country as soon as they can. Arithon's taken his horse and interestingly, a half-canister of a narcotic herb called tienelle from Sethvir's luggage.
For some mysterious reason, Sethvir is happy about this. Maybe he also thinks Arithon deserves to mellow out. But apparently it's got some other use, that Arithon would be trained in. With the garrison after him, he'll need what edge he can get.
Luhaine's also got Kharadmon to reverse the storm. If you remember last chapter, we were told that a storm was redirected away from Etarra for the coronation. Now they're bringing it back to try to foul the garrison's search. More good news: while Sethvir can't find Arithon directly, he found the horse, which is heading north where he'll undoubtedly reach the clansmen.
Dakar thinks that's not great news. As does Luhaine. Both of them think Steiven (who we met earlier!) has only one ambition: to collect the heads of every Etarran guildsmaster. Honestly, I'm on board with that. What with the slavery and genocide. Sethvir thinks a war is better than having Arithon cut dead in an alley.
Heh, there is a funny bit here:
While Asandir in tart chastisement jabbed a toe in the ribs of his apprentice, who seemed inclined to drop off snoring. ‘Arithon dead, don’t forget, would doom your Black Rose Prophecy to failure.’
‘You want Davien back?’ The Mad Prophet opened drink-glazed eyes in martyred affront. That’s fool rotten logic, when his betrayals were what dethroned your high kings in the first place!’
Point, Dakar.
-----
So the last segment of the chapter is Muster:
We rejoin Lysaer and Diegan for this bit. Lysaer is livid, of course. Diegan is curious. He asks if it's true: are Lysaer and Arithon brothers?
Oh...this bit is cold:
Lysaer’s look went straight through him. ‘Would you claim kinship with a byblow forced upon a queen by abduction and rape?’ The little falsehood came easily, that his mother’s flight to embrace her s’Ffalenn paramour had never extended through a year of willing dalliance. A frown marred Lysaer’s features as he wondered upon the memory that, he would once have spoken differently; that he had in some other time challenged his royal father to intercede for the pirate bastard’s comfort.
That event seemed distant, as cut off as a stranger’s memory. Brave, Lysaer had seen himself then; honourable and just. Now, his past pity seemed the puling naivete of a fool, to have invited his own downfall and thrown away heirship in Amroth for adherence to one painful truth. A lie cost so little, in comparison; and by today’s outcome, his losses being permanent and Arithon having shown his true nature, the fib to Diegan might as well have been the plain truth. Feeling giddy and light, as if the burden of heaven’s arch had been unyoked from his shoulders, Lysaer almost laughed.
That's a nasty bit of revisionist history. One that SHOULD be unnecessary, since Arithon is already condemned on his own merits. But this is where Lysaer's tendency to view Arithon as "not like the others" comes spiralling down. Arithon has, to Lysaer's mind, proven his duplicity and evil, so Arithon is just a "pirate bastard" once more. He's never had to rethink the group as a whole.
But notice, notice, for a brief second Lysaer sees the incongruity. It's too late now, but maybe, earlier, if he'd known to expect something bad, then he could have gone to Asandir himself. He didn't hate Arithon immediately. It was a (pretty rapid) slide down.
Diegan notes, darkly, that this means Lysaer is as royal as Arithon. That's not a good thing here, but Lysaer lies easily: he's a king's son but not on Athera. Formally disinherited as a victim of sorcerer's wiles.
Diegan asks if Lysaer's mother was not a s'Ffalenn then, which makes me wonder if Diegan doesn't have a fixation on incest. Remember, he wondered if Arithon was inbred due to his size. Here, he knows Arithon's a s'Ffalenn and both Athera and Dascan Elur appear patrilineal. So he basically was assuming that both of Lysaer's parents were s'Ffalenn??
Anyway, Lysaer clarifies that his mother was the "sadly ravished queen". Ugh.
So anyway, a courier comes with news. First, that they can't go to the council hall to hear the news because it's locked. (Lysaer does reassure Diegan that Traithe wouldn't have harmed the ministers). The courier accuses Lysaer of being a sorcerer's lackey.
The prince who had abjured all rights to royal rank said gently, ‘No. After Arithon’s betrayal, any man’s enmity is fair. Let me prove myself worthy of trust, his, yours, and Etarra’s.’ The prince in his tinsel velvets showed a proud, unpractised majesty, and the result of unprepossessing humbleness clothed in grace and shining wealth combined to powerful effect.
The messenger was moved to stand down. ‘Your pardon, great lord.’ He bent to touch his forelock and stopped, aghast at his dripping knuckles.
Lysaer really does know how to use his purple prose to get results.
So anyway, there are rioters. Extremists on both sides fighting. Farmers with leopard banners wanting land rights (again proving a difference between land ownership and land use on Athera), and guild folk fighting back. Lysaer is thrilled, because he knows how to calm the city.
He starts heading up to the dais, which had been chosen for "favourable visibility and acoustics" for the ceremony. He stops to comfort a farm lad, with a word, touch and light joke that induces the lad to smile. Of course he does.
And as he looks out over the city:
Misgiving for their plights dispelled the disorientation that lingered since Lysaer’s reawakening. Desh-thiere’s realignment of his loyalties was irrevocably complete.
His hour under the wraith’s possession he now blamed on spells laid to daze and confuse him; that the Fellowship would act to abet Arithon’s escape was a foregone conclusion, since they had persistently refused to lend credence to any of his past crimes of piracy. That fallacy must no longer be allowed to hinder mercy. Neither could widespread riots be stopped through hard-edged action. Restored to compassionate perception, Lysaer saw he had been callous to presume that he could loose the full might of his gift and crack the pall of shadow from the sky.
So we're told that the fight against Desh-thiere actually took MONTHS. And during that time, Lysaer has refined his control of his gift. He sends a probe and realizes something important: he'd been assuming that Arithon was still in the city, in order to keep everything dark. But he'd cast "stay-spells" to keep it in place. Arithon bolted. Lysaer is of course angry that he ducked responsibility.
So he very grandly uses his light magic to dispel the shadows. It creates a halo around him, and the citizens all respond to the sight of a glowing man "casting brave challenge against the dark". Diegan calls him "Lysaer of the Light" and says by his grace, the city shall recover.
The crowd embraces the sobriquet immediately. Though a captain with the unfortunate name of Gnudsog warns that they shouldn't be handing him a crown in gratitude. Diegan retorts that what Lysaer wants for his service is the head of the Prince of Rathain. Gnudsog is on board with that.
It takes Lysaer a fucking long time, but he's determined, and well, the struggle really does look good in the eyes of the populace. He's managed to clear the shadows to outside the walls before collapsing in despair. But his dramatic oath that neither dark, nor prince of darkness shall rule in Rathain while he lives is picked up via the very good acoustics, and the crowd cheers.
The shadows end up clearing after midnight of their own accord. By this time, Lysaer's pretty beloved. Gnudsog, for his part, has managed to track Arithon: heading north to the clans of Deshir. He's got a five hour head start.
Everyone's pretty freaked out about that, but of course, Lysaer, "Prince of Light" is willing to offer his aid. He promises help as long and as much as they need it, as long as they're willing to act without hesitation. They need to muster for war. A vote is taken, but it's a formality. Lysaer gets what he wants.
-
At dawn, they get reports that Gnudsog's men weren't able to catch Arithon. Apparently, Arithon stole a remount from a caravan. They weren't able to commandeer mounts themselves because it a) wasn't under Etarran jurisdiction and b) they couldn't offer a bribe to match Arithon's.
Lysaer notes the incongruity of "stole" and "bribe" and this is pretty hilarious:
Basically Arithon knew his speech (like Lysaer's, begging pardon my lord) is too much like the barbarians. So he fired a supply tent for diversion, brought down shadows, stole a carthouse, but left a cloak pin fixed to the picket-line set with a huge ass emerald.
Okay, I love this. The Fellowship was all "we can't tell him about the magic emeralds" so of course, now that he's not being crowned, he's selling them all. Why the fuck not?
...I find I like the Fellowship a little more now that their chickens are coming home to roost. It takes artistry to fuck up this badly.
-----
So we reach the sneak peek section: Sojourns.
1. Morriel summons Lirenda. She notes that Arithon has fled. And now there's some concern about whether or not Elaira knew anything about this. Suddenly, her misadventure in Erdane is looking more troublesome.
Poor Elaira, she's constantly screwed over indirectly as the brothers get screwed directly, without even any of the dubious perks.
2. Asandir and Dakar are racing to where the Mistwraith is imprisoned in the hope of moving it somewhere else. And the storm is falling.
3. A fugitive is riding hunched against the rain.
--
Well, THAT was eventful. Satisfying in one sense, as I enjoy seeing all of the shit that I complained about all along actually have a point. The Fellowship royally fucked up here. A lot. And at least SOME of that is explicitly called out in the text.
I also like that we finally have SOME reason to maybe want the Fellowship reunited. There are a lot of suffering humans attached to the Mistwraith who deserve release.
It's also fun to see how the very traits that Lysaer had assumed would be useless without a throne are actually serving him quite well in terms of his populist takeover of the city. He's got charm, he's got diplomacy, and he's got that built in sense of melodrama that makes it all work for him.
Of course, he's also been cursed into unnatural hatred and is trying to hunt down his younger half-brother. But you can't have everything. Next time, we'll see how ARITHON is weathering this curse.
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Date: 2021-04-23 12:44 am (UTC)ALSO MAAAAD
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Date: 2021-04-23 09:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-08-02 12:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-08-02 07:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-08-03 01:57 am (UTC)I also started thinking of an alternate version of where this story could go, where the Fellowship do come up with a cure before too long, but it requires putting the brothers into a magical coma for centuries. Then when they wake up, they discover that the Church of the Light has control of the world, and their version of the Mistwraith's defeat has the Lord of Light vanquish it alone and then unite humanity, only to be disappeared by the Mistwraith's servant, the Master of Shadows, who wants to plunge the world back into darkness.
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Date: 2025-08-03 02:30 am (UTC)So it's not really an external compulsion element so much as the internal core structures of their personalities. (Though how that works with s'Ahelas is anyone's guess, given how many bad decisions come out of that group...)