I Read What?!

So last time, Sef got taken out by an Ihlini, along with a whole pile of other Homanan pages. Donal was sad. And honestly, so was I. Sef was one of the few tolerable characters in this book.



So we rejoin a rather gloomy Donal. I don't really blame him, but he is a little whiny about it:

Donal stared gloomily out at the drowning world from the open flaps of his saffron pavilion. It was late evening, just past supper. It was cold. Summer was gone; fall had settled in. In Solinde, it rained during the fall. He was bored, restless and weary, and heartily wishing Carillon had left someone else to lead the army.

He had led it, now, for two months. Occasional word came from Carillon that Osric of Atvia still pressed them on the plains between Hondarth and Mujhara. Worse, it seemed unlikely there would be any immediate resolution. Osric, Carillon claimed, was a master strategist. The two armies were utterly deadlocked.

Okay. So. Question.

WHY is Donal still in Solinde?

a) Solinde never sent the assassin.

b) Royce is the viceroy, and there's no indicator that he's been deposed. He's loyal to Carillon.

c) We're told this invasion was meant to rout out the followers of Tynstar.

d) Tynstar is dead

e) While there apparently are still random Ihlini, it doesn't seem like they're leading fucking armies, so...

WHY DOESN'T DONAL JUST GO AND HELP CARILLON AGAINST OSRIC?!

I hate this book.

Anyway, Donal is gloomily watching Evan play some kind of fortune telling game. Apparently he has "unmatched skill with both dice and rune-sticks", but interestingly, Evan isn't cheating. He'd apparently won the game from a Homanan soldier.

Anyway, Evan challenges Donal to a game/fortune telling session and we get more background on what's going on:

Solinde, of late, had been peaceful. The Ihlini, perhaps stunned by Tynstar’s death, were quiet. The Solindish did not attack. The most recent encampment had stood safely for three weeks. It was possible the rebellion was over; also possible the Solindish meant to trap the Homanans into leaving prematurely. And so the warhost waited.

WHAT REBELLION?!

I swear to fucking god. It would have been very easy to actually HAVE a rebellion. But there has literally been NO SIGN OF ONE. Even at the start of this, we're told that the average Solindish person welcomed the army, it was JUST Tynstar's followers that they fought.

Honestly, I'd have more respect for the characters if Roberson just said that this wasn't about a rebellion at all, so much as an attempt to scare and subjugate the Solindish and keep them from supporting Tynstar/Electra. It'd be kind of evil, but I could accept that.

Anyway, Donal is of course a bit of a dick about it:

Evan spilled out the dice and rune-sticks across the wooden table. Ivory rattled; rune-sticks rolled, then settled. Evan frowned in concentration. “Ah!” he cried in discovery. “Fortune looks kindly on you, my lord. See here the rune signifying the Wanderer? And the die here for modification? It means within days you shall find yourself traveling on a journey filled with adventure and discovery—see you here? Jester and Charlatan.” Evan’s grin was sly. “A Woman as well, Donal—see you this rune here?”

“I see the folly of idleness,” Donal retorted. Before Evan could speak, he scooped up dice and rune-sticks without dropping them into the casket, and threw them across the table. “There. Read them for me now.”

Evan stared at the pattern. After a moment he lifted his head and met Donal’s eyes squarely. “You mock the game, my friend. Not wise. Now what you see is a genuine destiny.”

Donal snorted. “I was promised a destiny long ago, Ellasian—all Cheysuli are. Read me my fortune.”

A few more runes: a minor one representing youth with a more important one for Magician. Then things get more serious:

Evan’s habitual sleepy expression was gone. “Here—this is the Prisoner. This die signifies time spent—months. And this rune is another Major—it is the Executioner.” He met Donal’s eyes again. “Conjoined with what I threw just before you did, the fortune is a powerful one.”

“Aye?” Donal waited.

Evan sighed. “Wanderer: you will embark upon a journey. Charlatan and Jester: you will meet those who are more than what they seem. Woman is obvious—perhaps she is also the Magician. And at the end of the journey there is imprisonment and potential death—there is an Executioner.” Evan gestured. “There, my friend, is your fortune.”

“A full one,” Donal said lightly. “You do not underplay the moment, Evan.”

“I underplay nothing—” Evan began, but his words were drowned out in a shout from outside the pavilion.

You know, Donal. Evan is from a completely different culture that has magic very different from yours. His brother is a death harpist, remember. MAYBE you should hear the guy out if he believes this stuff?

But. They're interrupted. It's ROWAN! With NEWS:

Rowan moved past him into the pavilion. Rain ran down the muddied cloak and splattered against the hard-packed floor; he threw it back from his shoulders. He wore leather-and-ringmail, and his rumpled crimson tunic was stained with blood and grime. The brazier cast harsh shadows across his face and limned his weariness.

“My lord,” he said without ceremony. “Carillon is dead.”

...Oh. Well then.

Donal is shocked. Meanwhile, Rowan takes out Carillon's signet ring. Silver shines in his hair, despite the fact that Rowan is thirty-five years old. He calls Donal "My lord," and says that he's Mujhar.

So...yeah. Okay then.

I mean, it's kind of anticlimactic?

This is one of the four leads of Shapechangers, after all. At the time, the only one who cared about a woman's consent. He was the main character of Song of Homana. And while he's certainly fallen very far, I'd have expected a better death than just "oh, by the way, he's dead."

So Donal decides to be a little bitch about all this, pardon my casual misogyny:

“Get up from there,” he said unsteadily. “You do not kneel to me.”

Rowan raised his head. “I kneel to the Mujhar.”

Again, the words were unconnected. He heard them, but he could not acknowledge them. Slowly he shook his head. “Carillon is your Mujhar.”

The older man’s face did not change expression. It was a mask, a blank, weary mask, hiding what he felt. “You are in his place, my lord. And I must offer my fealty.”

“Get up from there!” Donal shouted. “You do this purposely!” His voice cracked. He stopped speaking. He felt the trembling in his body. And then, only then, did he see the tears in Rowan’s eyes.

He nearly turned away. He could not face the man’s grief, or it would swallow up his own. Instead he stared blankly at the ring.

Now it is meant for me. He looked down at his right hand. On his forefinger the ruby signet ring meant for the Prince of Homana. No longer was it his. He must replace it with the other. Gods…I am not worthy.

I mean, intellectually, I do appreciate Donal's grief. But given that he's been whining about the prospect of becoming heir for god knows how many chapters (twenty-two), I'm just...ugh.

Anyway, cementing his status as a good egg, Evan softly asks Donal if he intends to keep Rowan on his knees for the whole night.

This leads to Donal being a total dick in the opposite direction:

He has lost so much… Donal bent. He caught Rowan’s left arm and raised him up. “Do you think I would not accept you?” His voice was steadier now. “Did you think I would dismiss you?”

“I am Carillon’s man,” Rowan said clearly. “I can never be anyone else’s.”

Donal did not answer at once. He lacked a voice; the words. Somehow, he had always known it. Rowan was Carillon’s man, as he himself had claimed. For more years than Donal had been alive, Rowan had served his lord. He had dedicated his life to Carillon utterly. And now the task was finished.

He will never serve me. To him, I am a makeshift man, not fit to assume the Lion. I can never take Carillon’s place.

He looked at the older man. “Surely you will aid me. My task will not be easy.”

“Nor was his.” The tears were gone from Rowan’s eyes. His face was a mask again.

Gods—he will never acknowledge me. Donal looked at the ring again. He felt empty and full all at once. Empty in spirit because Carillon was gone; full of the grief it brought. “Rowan,” he said softly, “I will need your help.”

Does Roberson fucking read what she wrote? We started out with Rowan on his knees, calling Donal Mujhar. We had Donal rejecting it, freaking out.

NOW suddenly we have this "Rowan will never follow me" angst. This is literally a page after the other excerpt.

Also Donal, Rowan and Carillon were very close. Let the man fucking grieve, you cretin.

I do like this bit though:

The other Cheysuli drew in a deep, uneven breath. “Years ago, Carillon gave me an estate as a reward for my services. I have had it administered for me through all the years I remained at Homana-Mujhar…but I intended, when this time arrived, to leave royal service.”

“Leave?” Donal felt the apprehension spill into his belly. “Do you think I can do this alone?”

“I doubt you can do it at all.” The tone was uninflected. It made the words more cruel.

I do love Rowan.

Anyway, Donal asks if Rowan hates him that much. Well, I don't know, dude. You DID practically call him soulless to his face a few chapters back.

“I do not hate you at all.” Neither tone nor expression changed. “You are not—Carillon. That is all. It is not fair, I know…but then nothing is fair. Is it?” Rowan’s eyes were filled with bittersweet empathy. “You are resented by the Homanans because Carillon made you his heir. Oh, aye—they begin to accept the prophecy, but they would prefer to accept it later. With you, that time is now.” Rowan sighed and closed his eyes briefly. “There are foreign realms who view the succession with alarm and distaste: they must deal with a man who shifts his shape. And, of course, there are the Cheysuli, who view you as something like unto an avatar of all the ancient gods. How can I hate a man as swallowed up as you?”

Swallowed up— Aye, he was, or would be. The Lion would regurgitate a different man.

This bit is pretty interesting. Aside from Donal's whining. Do the other nations have an issue with Cheysuli?

The Ellasians obviously don't, given that they'd given sanctuary and Lachlan (who is heir) is friends with both Carillon, Donal and Finn. The Ihlini hate the Cheysuli, but there's been no indication that the common Solindish do. When we met the Atvians in Shapechangers, they didn't express any particular antagonism to the Cheysuli - they were just trying to conquer Homana.

Carillon and Finn hid in Caledonia, and there wasn't any reference to Finn having trouble there. We know nothing (yet) about Erinn, Falia or the Steppes. Imagine if we'd gotten a book of Donal actually learning kingship and dealing with foreign countries and we knew what they thought...

Instead of this mess.

Anyway, Donal again insists he needs Rowan's help. He's probably right, but why shouldn't Rowan retire? But Rowan agrees.

So Donal offers food and drink and asks about Carillon's death. He assumes it was because of the tetsu root that Finn had given, but no. And in fact, the mention of tetsu root shocks Rowan.

And of course Donal is a dick about it:

“For the pain,” Donal protested. “He said Carillon desired it.”

“And so he stole more time!” Rowan said bitterly. “Did he tell him what it would do? Did Finn say to him he would lose what little time was left?” His hands shook in his anger.

Donal’s fingers curled against his palms until the nails bit in. “I am certain Finn told him everything. He is not a murderer, Rowan.”

“He has been that, and worse.” Rowan’s tone was harsh, the words clipped. “Most of the stories of him are true.”

An answering spark of anger flared in Donal’s chest. “Finn was loyal to the Mujhar! What he did was because Carillon desired it! Do you dare intimate to me that Finn wanted him to die?”

Rowan shut his eyes. “No…no…I—do not. No. Forgive me, I am not myself. But—tetsu root? Why?”

Seriously Rowan, it's not too late to quit. Leave the ungrateful prick to this bullshit.

I'm not saying what Finn did was right or wrong, but Rowan has a right to his own fucking opinion.

But Rowan does admit that Carillon would "give up quantity for quality". But it wasn't tetsu that killed him: it was Osric, king of Atvia.

Hm. Maybe you should have sent Thorne's body back when you had the chance, Carillon.

Anyway, we get the account:

Rowan nodded. “Three weeks ago we rode into battle against Osric. And it was done with. We had won the day. We had only to gather our dead and wounded.” He drew in a heavy breath. “I saw him. Carillon was mounted, standing on a hilltop. Just—looking. Looking across the battlefield as we went out to gather our dead. I saw him sitting there, watching…I wondered why he was so still. Now, I think it might have been the root. It—affects a man’s perceptions.” His brows twisted together in a spasm of grief. “I—saw him fall.”

“Fall—”

Jerkily, Rowan nodded. “He fell.” The words spilled out. “He went down by the hooves of his horse. For a moment I could not understand—Carillon would never fall!—and then I saw the arrow in his chest.” He stopped talking. “I was—too far…too far—I could not reach him in time. But—I saw the Atvian archer—I saw him ride up to my lord. Even as I ran across the hill, I saw him kneel down by my Mujhar. I shouted—gods, how I shouted!—but the archer did not listen. And by the time I reached my lord, the Atvian was gone.”

Carillon even gets some last words:

Tears ran unchecked down Rowan’s Cheysuli face. “He knew it was done,” he said. “He said I must not trouble myself to send for a chirurgeon. He said—he said he wished Finn were with him, or Duncan, so they could take away the pain.” For an instant, his voice shook. “He told me it was Osric himself—the Atvian archer was Osric…that he named himself to Carillon as he knelt down beside him. And then—then he said I was to carry the sword to you, because now you would accept it.”

“The sword…” Donal echoed. “Gods—now it is mine.”

Rowan’s face was gray. “My lord—Osric has the sword.”

...so yep. There are Carillon's last words. Told second-hand because he kicked it off screen.

This is so dumb. Roberson did nothing to establish Solinde as a real threat. It would have made just as much sense for the entire army to go fight Osric, using the logic that Tynstar and Electra are dead and the other Ihlini are in hiding. Deal with the bigger threat at hand. Then Carillon could have still died, but Donal could have been there and heard the words.

And maybe he could have been pinned down somehow and unable to prevent Osric from stealing the sword. That would have been a good emotional beat.

Goodbye, Carillon. You were a scumbag by the end, but you had a good run. Shame you died offscreen.

So anyway, Rowan's still devastated:

Donal looked down on Rowan. “Then I will have to get it back.”

Rowan’s voice shook. “I served him for twenty-five years.” He spoke with a dry factuality, as if that would somehow hide his grief. “I was twelve. Did you know that? Twelve. He was only eighteen himself, but he was so far above me I could hardly see him for the brightness of his spirit. And he saw to it I was saved…he saw to it I was rescued, while he remained in iron.” His smile was bittersweet. “I swore then I would do what I could to serve him. Even while he and Finn kept themselves in exile, I did what I could to serve him. I kept his memory alive.” The smile faded away. “And when he came home, he took me into his service—my tahlmorra, if you will—” He smiled no longer. “And now it comes to this.” He nearly crushed the silver cup. “That service is ended by Osric’s arrow.”

And that arrow makes me king. Donal turned away from Rowan. He could not bear to look at his face.

On the table he saw the ring, still stained with Carillon’s blood. His ring, now. Slowly, with a dreadful fascination, he drew off the one on his forefinger and set it down beside the other. His son’s, if Aislinn ever bore one.

I know I SHOULD cut Donal more slack, but I just CAN'T. Rowan's here spilling his heart out, and Donal's not offering even a hint of sympathy.

And I'm definitely not happy to see thoughts going to poor Aislinn right now. Sorry about your miscarriage and dead dad, but I have to knock you up.

Anyway, Donal tells Evan to see to Rowan's needs, then find Finn and have him wait. Because the foreign prince is totally a servant now, I guess. Donal, for his part, is running off into the night to monologue:

He clenched his right fist and felt the heavy ring bite into his finger. “You take them all,” he said aloud. “My jehan, my jehana—the boy…now Carillon as well. You take them all from me—and you thrust this upon me too soon!”

The grief is legitimate, but too soon? You're twenty four, dude.

Anyway, Lorn and Taj give Donal a pep talk. And Donal returns back to the camp to find Finn.

When he ripped aside the doorflap on his pavilion he found it empty save for Finn. For a moment he thought perhaps his uncle did not know, but then he saw past the subtle control.

The scarred face was perfectly blank. But the fury and grief in his posture was such that it struck Donal like a blow.

Aw. I know Finn improved and Carillon deteriorated to the point where Finn deserved better, but a part of me will miss the "get a room" jokes.

Anyway, Donal has decided to go to Homana. He wants Finn to command the army. Donal argues that they've accepted him and Rowan, but Finn insists that was only at Carillon's behest. Anyway, he has his own intentions: HE wants to go to Homana and slay Osric. He's owed the death.

I'm for it.

So naturally, they fight about it a bit and Donal has the nerve to act offended:

“I,” Donal said. “I am his heir. I will do it. Osric will die by my hand, and I will bring home the sword again.”

Finn spat out something in the Old Tongue that set the hairs to rising on the nape of Donal’s neck. He felt color drain out of his face. “Insult?” he asked, and heard the waver in his voice. He fought to steady it. “I am your bloodkin, su’fali! I have spent my life honoring you for wisdom, strength, and power, and now you offer insult—”

I can appreciate, intellectually, that the insults have more weight in Cheysuli culture then mine, but emotionally, I think Donal needs to grow a thicker fucking skin.

Anyway, Donal pulls rank. Then, FINALLY, he shows some empathy for someone who isn't him:

“Shansu, su’fali,” Donal said gently. “Do you think I do not grieve at least half as much as you?”

The scar writhed on Finn’s dark face. For a moment there was such grief and anguish in his eyes Donal feared he might go mad. But Finn contained his emotions.

When he could, he drew in a slow breath and released it carefully. “Duncan would say I am a fool…too impetuous for my own good—he told me so often enough—and perhaps it is the truth.” Finn’s voice was hoarse. “Perhaps I am. Perhaps I must recall all the good advice he gave me and let his son offer it as well.” The sigh was ragged around the edges. “I suppose—so long as Osric is slain—it matters little who has the doing of it.”

Donal reached out his arms and waited, and at last Finn accepted the brief clasp that sealed their bond again. “Osric will be slain,” Donal told him clearly. “That I promise you.”

Honestly, fuck Duncan.

I do think it's good for Donal to return to Homana. Still not sure why anyone needs to stay behind in Solinde at all. But fine, whatever. At least the chapter ends here.