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i_read_whatShapechangers was a terrible book. Possibly the worst book I've ever read for this site (and the only one that's merited the dubious honor of being reposted on Das_Sporking). It's direct sequel, Song of Homana, was a surprising improvement.
There are eight books in this series though. And I'm rather interested in moving on to the third: Legacy of the Sword.
I have some recollection of this book. In fact, I remember that, for a long time, it had been my least favorite of the series. But only until I read Shapechangers. I don't remember Sword being bad, per se. But, well, the Chronicles of the Cheysuli is a multi-generational saga. This is the first book that really makes us feel what that means.
I think you'll understand as we go.
Our lead character is Donal, the now adult son of Alix and Duncan. Unlike Carillon, we don't really have a clear idea of who he'll be yet. We last saw him at the age of eight. We're skipping ahead fifteen years. So it will be interesting to get to meet him.
(This book does win some points for its dedication to C. J. Cherryh, who is possibly my single favorite author ever. I may not always like your work, Ms. Roberson, but I cannot fault your taste.)
We see the same map that we saw in Song of Homana. I'm not seeing any obvious differences, though I do now have a better appreciation of places like Hondarth and Valgaard. I have Opinions about Ellas and Atvia. This map actually makes me feel a little nostalgic now.
So let's jump in!
We emerge in Hondarth. We get a bit of a conflicting description of it:
Hondarth did not resemble a city so much as a flock of sheep pouring down over lilac heather toward the glass-gray ocean beyond. From atop the soft, slope-shouldered hills surrounding the scalloped bay, gray-thatched cottages appeared to huddle together in familial affection.
Once, Hondarth had been no more than a small fishing village; now it was a thriving city whose welfare derived from all manner of foreign trade as well as seasonal catches. Ships docked daily and trade caravans were dispatched to various parts of Homana. And with the ships came an influx of foreign sailors and merchants; Hondarth had become almost cosmopolitan.
...it still sounds like a fishing village to me, to be honest.
And we're introduced to Donal being a little bit judgy:
The price of growth, Donal thought. But I wonder, was Mujhara ever this—haphazard?
He smiles at the thought of the royal city being "haphazard". It's ludicrous. Had not the Cheysuli originally built the city the Homanans claimed for themselves?
...well, that's a little off-putting. I mean, he's not wrong. And it's understandable that he'd feel proud of that connection, but...I don't know...
Somehow it's even more annoying when he follows up with: Few cities know the majesty and uniformity of Mujhara. But I think I prefer Hondarth, if I must know a city at all.. Sadly, Donal knows Mujhara very well. He'd rather live away from it, but of late, he's had little choice in his living arrangements.
...I'm sorry being the heir to the throne is inconvenient for you?
But I need to take a step back and recognize there are some legitimate cultural issues here. But Donal definitely seems prone to a certain level of angst:
Donal sighed. I think Carillon will see to it my wings are clipped, my talons filed…or perhaps he will pen me in a kennel, like his hunting dogs.
And who would complain about a kennel as fine as Homana-Mujhar?
I mean, it could be worse? And I mean, you're still the HEIR TO THE THRONE.
Ah, but I misread. The second line, about the kennel as fine as Homana-Mujhar is not Donal's own thought, but that of his lir companion, the wolf: Lorn.
For the animal lovers reading this, here is Lorn's description:
Padding, not slinking; not as if the wolf avoided unwanted contact. He did not stalk, did not hunt, did not run from man or horse. He paced the stallion like a well-tamed hound accompanying a beloved master, but the wolf was no dog. Nor was he particularly tame.
He was not a delicate animal, but spare, with no flesh beyond that which supported his natural strength and quickness. The brassy sunlight of a foggy coastal late afternoon tipped his ruddy pelt with the faintest trace of bronze. His eyes were partially lidded, showing half-moons of brown and black.
Donal declares that he'd complain about the kennel no matter how nice, and so would Lorn. Lorn just laughs (psychically) and points out that the palace will be a kennel to him too, once Donal takes the throne.
And...oh god:
That is not the point, Donal protested. The point is, Carillon begins to make more demands on my time. He takes me away from the Keep. Council meetings, policy sessions…all those boring petition hearings—
I'm sorry that Carillon expects you to learn to be a fucking king, dude. Thank the fucking gods that I took a break after White Dragon. I don't think I could take this sort of "woe is me: what with my psychic companions and my eventual kingdom" thing sequentially.
To be fair, Donal has actual challenges. It is NOT going to be easy to be the first Cheysuli Mujhar in centuries. But it'd be easier to remember that if Donal wasn't bitching about the relative luxuries.
Lorn cuts Donal off and asks if Carillon has a choice. I like Lorn. Lorn can stay. And Donal has to admit that Carillon doesn't. Well, he could make his daughter heir? I feel like that would be difficult too, but would it be more difficult than having a Cheysuli heir only twenty years after the qu-mahlin?
Donal understandably has mixed feelings about Carillon, thinking that somedays Carillon seems to have a choice in everything, and making incomprehensible decisions. Other times, he feels like he almost understands him. But mostly, he doesn't really understand Carillon's motives. Which Lorn says is a good enough reason as any to keep attending the council meetings, policy sessions and petition hearings.
Donal's second companion, Taj, joins in for a moment, but Lorn is definitely the stronger defined of the two. Donal feels put in his place.
So Donal heads to the Market Square, which is a bit of a mistake because it's crowded and he's on a horse. He almost collides with another rider and...well...
The man, swearing softly beneath his breath as he rubbed one gray-clad knee, glanced up as if to apologize.
But he did not. Instead he stared hard for a long moment, then drew back in his saddle and spat into the street. “Shapechanger!” he hissed from between his teeth, “go back to your forest bolt-hole! We want none of your kind here in Hondarth!”
Ouch. He rants a bit more. Donal's hand goes to his long-knife, but Lorn talks him down, pointing out that slaying this guy would only lend credence to his hatred.
It takes considerable effort, but Donal defends himself very calmly to the rider, pointing out that the qu'mahlin is over and he can go as he pleases.
The guy tries to posture, but Donal ends up realizing that the guy is more afraid than anything else. This exchange is good, but also a little uncomfortable:
Frightened, men will do anything. It was Taj, circling in seeming idleness above the crowded square. Lir, be gentle with him.
After what he has said to me?
Has it damaged you?
Okay, I think I'm way too white to really give an informed opinion on this scene. I've never been the subject of racial hatred. I've never been confronted with racial slurs or threatened on the basis of my race. I don't know and will never truly know how that feels.
I don't feel comfortable with the idea that the onus should be on Donal to be gentle to the man who has accosted him.
Donal can see that the guy won't back down. And he can't back down either. It's not a matter of pride, really, it's that backing down would make it more difficult for any warrior who comes to Hondarth. So he takes the offensive instead:
He leaned closer to the man, which caused the Homanan to flinch back, and spoke barely above a whisper. “You are truly a fool to think you can chase me back into the forests. I come and go as I please. If you think to dissuade me, you will have myself and my lir to contend with.” A brief gesture indicated the hackled wolf and Taj’s attentive flight. “What say you to me now?”
We get a description of Donal here:
Lastly he looked at the Cheysuli warrior who faced him: a young man of twenty-three, tall even in his saddle; black-haired, dark-skinned, yellow-eyed; possessed of a sense of grace, confidence and strength that was almost feral in its nature. He had the look of intense pride and preparedness that differentiated Cheysuli warriors from other men. The look of a predator.
The man points out that he's unarmed. And Donal tells him the next time he insults a Cheysuli, he should do so armed. If he'd been forced to slay the man, he'd prefer to do it fairly.
It's a pretty badass line. The man runs, but he does spit on the ground before he leaves.
Lorn and Taj weigh in. Lorn thinks the man isn't worth killing, but is a little wistful. Taj points out that Donal will see more of that kind of attitude, and did he think he'd be free from it.
Donal points out that Carillon ended the qu'mahlin, but neither lir answers. The funny thing is, Donal HAS rank and title, HOMANAN rank and title. But the man didn't know that. All he saw was a Cheysuli. As they discuss, a woman on the street makes a warding sign intended for the god of the netherworld. She directs it at Donal.
Someone else throws horse droppings at him.
Donal leaves the square and heads to an inn. He finds one that's so dubious that even Lorn is skeptical. Taj, who we're told is vigilant about princely dignity and decorum, reminds Donal that he's prince of Homana. The prince of Homana is hungry. He has the lir wait with the horses.
This is interesting though:
The door to the inn was snatched open just as Donal put out his hand to lift the latch. A body was hurled through the opening. Donal, directly in its path, cursed and staggered back, grasping at arms and legs as he struggled to keep himself and the other upright. He hissed a Cheysuli invective under his breath and pushed the body back onto its feet. It resolved itself into a boy, not a man, and Donal saw how the boy stared at him in alarm.
The innkeeper stood in the doorway, legs spread and arms folded across his chest. His bearded jaw thrust out belligerently. “I’ll not have such rabble in my good inn!” he growled distinctly. “Take your demon ways elsewhere, brat!”
Well this strikes a nerve. Donal asks why the guy calls the boy a demon, and this is interesting:
The man looked Donal up and down, brown eyes narrowing. Donal waited for the epithets to include himself, half-braced against another clot of manure—or worse—but instead of insults he got a shrewd assessment. He saw how the innkeeper judged him by the gold showing at his ear and the color of his eyes. His lir-bands were hidden beneath a heavy cloak, but his race—as always—was apparent enough.
It's common we're told, when the Homanans aren't violent, they lust after the Cheysuli gold.
The innkeeper repeats the word Demon, and Donal asks if he means the boy or him. The boy, actually. The innkeeper is fine with Donal coming in, pointing out that the Mujhar has declared Cheysuli free of taint. His coin's as good as any other.
Donal says he'll be in in a moment and asks for beef and wine. Then he talks to the boy. The issue is that the kid has one brown eye and one blue eye. People see that and think he's a demon. Donal speaks kindly to the kid, though.
The kid asks why Donal cares so much that he's called names. Donal reveals that he's a Cheysuli, and the boy freaks out. Donal realizes the kid is basically just parroting behavior that's been directed toward him and buries his shock and anger. He offers the kid food. The kid runs off instead.
And the chapter ends here.
Okay. Well, we had a REALLY irritating start, but once Donal stopped whining, things improved considerably. The confrontation in Market Square was tense. And seeing him control his own hurt to try to help a kid, even if the kid ended up rejecting the help, went a long way in making our hero more tolerable to me. Lorn and Taj are kind of a single peanut gallery to me right now, but I'll give Roberson some time to differentiate them more cleanly.
Donal will not have an easy path to kingship, clearly.
There are eight books in this series though. And I'm rather interested in moving on to the third: Legacy of the Sword.
I have some recollection of this book. In fact, I remember that, for a long time, it had been my least favorite of the series. But only until I read Shapechangers. I don't remember Sword being bad, per se. But, well, the Chronicles of the Cheysuli is a multi-generational saga. This is the first book that really makes us feel what that means.
I think you'll understand as we go.
Our lead character is Donal, the now adult son of Alix and Duncan. Unlike Carillon, we don't really have a clear idea of who he'll be yet. We last saw him at the age of eight. We're skipping ahead fifteen years. So it will be interesting to get to meet him.
(This book does win some points for its dedication to C. J. Cherryh, who is possibly my single favorite author ever. I may not always like your work, Ms. Roberson, but I cannot fault your taste.)
We see the same map that we saw in Song of Homana. I'm not seeing any obvious differences, though I do now have a better appreciation of places like Hondarth and Valgaard. I have Opinions about Ellas and Atvia. This map actually makes me feel a little nostalgic now.
So let's jump in!
We emerge in Hondarth. We get a bit of a conflicting description of it:
Hondarth did not resemble a city so much as a flock of sheep pouring down over lilac heather toward the glass-gray ocean beyond. From atop the soft, slope-shouldered hills surrounding the scalloped bay, gray-thatched cottages appeared to huddle together in familial affection.
Once, Hondarth had been no more than a small fishing village; now it was a thriving city whose welfare derived from all manner of foreign trade as well as seasonal catches. Ships docked daily and trade caravans were dispatched to various parts of Homana. And with the ships came an influx of foreign sailors and merchants; Hondarth had become almost cosmopolitan.
...it still sounds like a fishing village to me, to be honest.
And we're introduced to Donal being a little bit judgy:
The price of growth, Donal thought. But I wonder, was Mujhara ever this—haphazard?
He smiles at the thought of the royal city being "haphazard". It's ludicrous. Had not the Cheysuli originally built the city the Homanans claimed for themselves?
...well, that's a little off-putting. I mean, he's not wrong. And it's understandable that he'd feel proud of that connection, but...I don't know...
Somehow it's even more annoying when he follows up with: Few cities know the majesty and uniformity of Mujhara. But I think I prefer Hondarth, if I must know a city at all.. Sadly, Donal knows Mujhara very well. He'd rather live away from it, but of late, he's had little choice in his living arrangements.
...I'm sorry being the heir to the throne is inconvenient for you?
But I need to take a step back and recognize there are some legitimate cultural issues here. But Donal definitely seems prone to a certain level of angst:
Donal sighed. I think Carillon will see to it my wings are clipped, my talons filed…or perhaps he will pen me in a kennel, like his hunting dogs.
And who would complain about a kennel as fine as Homana-Mujhar?
I mean, it could be worse? And I mean, you're still the HEIR TO THE THRONE.
Ah, but I misread. The second line, about the kennel as fine as Homana-Mujhar is not Donal's own thought, but that of his lir companion, the wolf: Lorn.
For the animal lovers reading this, here is Lorn's description:
Padding, not slinking; not as if the wolf avoided unwanted contact. He did not stalk, did not hunt, did not run from man or horse. He paced the stallion like a well-tamed hound accompanying a beloved master, but the wolf was no dog. Nor was he particularly tame.
He was not a delicate animal, but spare, with no flesh beyond that which supported his natural strength and quickness. The brassy sunlight of a foggy coastal late afternoon tipped his ruddy pelt with the faintest trace of bronze. His eyes were partially lidded, showing half-moons of brown and black.
Donal declares that he'd complain about the kennel no matter how nice, and so would Lorn. Lorn just laughs (psychically) and points out that the palace will be a kennel to him too, once Donal takes the throne.
And...oh god:
That is not the point, Donal protested. The point is, Carillon begins to make more demands on my time. He takes me away from the Keep. Council meetings, policy sessions…all those boring petition hearings—
I'm sorry that Carillon expects you to learn to be a fucking king, dude. Thank the fucking gods that I took a break after White Dragon. I don't think I could take this sort of "woe is me: what with my psychic companions and my eventual kingdom" thing sequentially.
To be fair, Donal has actual challenges. It is NOT going to be easy to be the first Cheysuli Mujhar in centuries. But it'd be easier to remember that if Donal wasn't bitching about the relative luxuries.
Lorn cuts Donal off and asks if Carillon has a choice. I like Lorn. Lorn can stay. And Donal has to admit that Carillon doesn't. Well, he could make his daughter heir? I feel like that would be difficult too, but would it be more difficult than having a Cheysuli heir only twenty years after the qu-mahlin?
Donal understandably has mixed feelings about Carillon, thinking that somedays Carillon seems to have a choice in everything, and making incomprehensible decisions. Other times, he feels like he almost understands him. But mostly, he doesn't really understand Carillon's motives. Which Lorn says is a good enough reason as any to keep attending the council meetings, policy sessions and petition hearings.
Donal's second companion, Taj, joins in for a moment, but Lorn is definitely the stronger defined of the two. Donal feels put in his place.
So Donal heads to the Market Square, which is a bit of a mistake because it's crowded and he's on a horse. He almost collides with another rider and...well...
The man, swearing softly beneath his breath as he rubbed one gray-clad knee, glanced up as if to apologize.
But he did not. Instead he stared hard for a long moment, then drew back in his saddle and spat into the street. “Shapechanger!” he hissed from between his teeth, “go back to your forest bolt-hole! We want none of your kind here in Hondarth!”
Ouch. He rants a bit more. Donal's hand goes to his long-knife, but Lorn talks him down, pointing out that slaying this guy would only lend credence to his hatred.
It takes considerable effort, but Donal defends himself very calmly to the rider, pointing out that the qu'mahlin is over and he can go as he pleases.
The guy tries to posture, but Donal ends up realizing that the guy is more afraid than anything else. This exchange is good, but also a little uncomfortable:
Frightened, men will do anything. It was Taj, circling in seeming idleness above the crowded square. Lir, be gentle with him.
After what he has said to me?
Has it damaged you?
Okay, I think I'm way too white to really give an informed opinion on this scene. I've never been the subject of racial hatred. I've never been confronted with racial slurs or threatened on the basis of my race. I don't know and will never truly know how that feels.
I don't feel comfortable with the idea that the onus should be on Donal to be gentle to the man who has accosted him.
Donal can see that the guy won't back down. And he can't back down either. It's not a matter of pride, really, it's that backing down would make it more difficult for any warrior who comes to Hondarth. So he takes the offensive instead:
He leaned closer to the man, which caused the Homanan to flinch back, and spoke barely above a whisper. “You are truly a fool to think you can chase me back into the forests. I come and go as I please. If you think to dissuade me, you will have myself and my lir to contend with.” A brief gesture indicated the hackled wolf and Taj’s attentive flight. “What say you to me now?”
We get a description of Donal here:
Lastly he looked at the Cheysuli warrior who faced him: a young man of twenty-three, tall even in his saddle; black-haired, dark-skinned, yellow-eyed; possessed of a sense of grace, confidence and strength that was almost feral in its nature. He had the look of intense pride and preparedness that differentiated Cheysuli warriors from other men. The look of a predator.
The man points out that he's unarmed. And Donal tells him the next time he insults a Cheysuli, he should do so armed. If he'd been forced to slay the man, he'd prefer to do it fairly.
It's a pretty badass line. The man runs, but he does spit on the ground before he leaves.
Lorn and Taj weigh in. Lorn thinks the man isn't worth killing, but is a little wistful. Taj points out that Donal will see more of that kind of attitude, and did he think he'd be free from it.
Donal points out that Carillon ended the qu'mahlin, but neither lir answers. The funny thing is, Donal HAS rank and title, HOMANAN rank and title. But the man didn't know that. All he saw was a Cheysuli. As they discuss, a woman on the street makes a warding sign intended for the god of the netherworld. She directs it at Donal.
Someone else throws horse droppings at him.
Donal leaves the square and heads to an inn. He finds one that's so dubious that even Lorn is skeptical. Taj, who we're told is vigilant about princely dignity and decorum, reminds Donal that he's prince of Homana. The prince of Homana is hungry. He has the lir wait with the horses.
This is interesting though:
The door to the inn was snatched open just as Donal put out his hand to lift the latch. A body was hurled through the opening. Donal, directly in its path, cursed and staggered back, grasping at arms and legs as he struggled to keep himself and the other upright. He hissed a Cheysuli invective under his breath and pushed the body back onto its feet. It resolved itself into a boy, not a man, and Donal saw how the boy stared at him in alarm.
The innkeeper stood in the doorway, legs spread and arms folded across his chest. His bearded jaw thrust out belligerently. “I’ll not have such rabble in my good inn!” he growled distinctly. “Take your demon ways elsewhere, brat!”
Well this strikes a nerve. Donal asks why the guy calls the boy a demon, and this is interesting:
The man looked Donal up and down, brown eyes narrowing. Donal waited for the epithets to include himself, half-braced against another clot of manure—or worse—but instead of insults he got a shrewd assessment. He saw how the innkeeper judged him by the gold showing at his ear and the color of his eyes. His lir-bands were hidden beneath a heavy cloak, but his race—as always—was apparent enough.
It's common we're told, when the Homanans aren't violent, they lust after the Cheysuli gold.
The innkeeper repeats the word Demon, and Donal asks if he means the boy or him. The boy, actually. The innkeeper is fine with Donal coming in, pointing out that the Mujhar has declared Cheysuli free of taint. His coin's as good as any other.
Donal says he'll be in in a moment and asks for beef and wine. Then he talks to the boy. The issue is that the kid has one brown eye and one blue eye. People see that and think he's a demon. Donal speaks kindly to the kid, though.
The kid asks why Donal cares so much that he's called names. Donal reveals that he's a Cheysuli, and the boy freaks out. Donal realizes the kid is basically just parroting behavior that's been directed toward him and buries his shock and anger. He offers the kid food. The kid runs off instead.
And the chapter ends here.
Okay. Well, we had a REALLY irritating start, but once Donal stopped whining, things improved considerably. The confrontation in Market Square was tense. And seeing him control his own hurt to try to help a kid, even if the kid ended up rejecting the help, went a long way in making our hero more tolerable to me. Lorn and Taj are kind of a single peanut gallery to me right now, but I'll give Roberson some time to differentiate them more cleanly.
Donal will not have an easy path to kingship, clearly.
no subject
Date: 2021-04-07 10:22 pm (UTC)Also, I will get angst over being king over abusive captive fantasy every day.
no subject
Date: 2021-04-08 01:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2021-06-10 12:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2021-06-10 12:59 am (UTC)