I Read What?!

Last time, Alec got to enjoy an animal transformation, while Seregil and Nysander decided to be cryptic at each other. Also Micum is back! Yay! And gone again!



So rejoin our heroes as they're heading to "the Cockerel". Context clues in earlier chapters would imply that this is Seregil's home and their final destination. They're walking, because Seregil is an idiot mostly, who doesn't understand what convalescence is. Alec at least gets to carry the pack though.

Of COURSE, Seregil starts getting winded as they get some of the way there. They stop at some kind of fountain type thing, and Alec notes that Seregil is shivering. Seregil is too busy being dramatic to care:

“Walking’s the best thing for me.” Seregil sat back on the step and wrapped his cloak around him. “Remember this night, Alec. Drink it in and commit it to memory! Your first night on the streets of Rhíminee!”

Settling beside him, Alec looked out at the wild beauty of the night and let out a happy sigh. “It feels like the beginning of something, all right, even though we’ve been here a week.”

I am glad that they seem to be on the same page, after the tension of previous chapters. Alec catches sight of the Street of Lights. That, if you recall, is the brothel district. Alec had asked about the lights, but hadn't gotten the answer. Seregil provides:

“They aren’t meant for decoration. The color of the lanterns at each gate indicates the sort of pleasures the house purveys. A man wanting a woman would look for a house with a rose-colored light. If it’s male company he craves, then he’d choose one showing the green lamp. It’s the same for women: amber for male companionship, white for female.”

It's funny how times change. As a young teen, I was nearly as blown away as Alec is by this. As an adult, in 2021, I think it all seems a little binary. This is not a criticism of Flewelling, mind. Just funny how the conversation has evolved over the years.

Anyway, Alec is startled to see almost as many green and white lights as the others. It's not as common up north, since Dalnan priests frown on same-sex unions as "unproductive." Illior is more open minded of course. And Seregil essentially comes out here:

“That depends on what one intends to produce,” Seregil remarked with a cryptic smile. “Illior instructs us to take advantage of any situation; I’ve always found that to be a most productive philosophy.”

When Alec still looked dubious, Seregil clapped him on the shoulder in mock exasperation. “By the Four, haven’t you heard the saying, ‘Never spurn the dish untasted’? And here you haven’t even had a smell of the kitchen yet! We’ve got to get you back there, and soon.”

Alec didn’t reply, but Seregil noticed him glance back over his shoulder several times before they were out of sight of the lights.

Flewelling has a delicate touch here. Alec doesn't seem homophobic as much as very inexperienced and confused. Given that he's a fairly isolated sixteen year old anyway, sexuality in general is pretty confusing.

So we switch over to Alec's view. He notes that Seregil is delighted to be "back in his own element", and Alec watches him duck into a potter's shop without explanation. Eventually though, they get to the Cockerel:

A low wall enclosed the inn’s small yard and Alec saw that bronze statues of the inn’s namesake, a cockerel, were set on either side of the front gate, each clutching a glowing lantern in one upraised claw.

The Cockerel was a prosperous, well-kept establishment, square built of stone and wood, and three stories high. The small windows on the upper levels were shuttered, but the two large windows overlooking the front court let out a welcoming flood of light through their leaded bull’s-eye panes.

They're greeted by a smiling, red-haired young man who is both deaf and mute. His name is Rhiri. He's one of Seregil's servants, the best he's ever found actually. That seems like high praise!

Seregil then greets a few horses, one of which is half Aurenfaie. Given what we know of Aurenfaie steeds, that's probably a good indicator of Seregil's personal wealth. They go to the kitcchen, where they meet someone named Thyris, who runs it:

Thryis’ heavy face was deeply seamed with age and her braid was the color of iron. In spite of the heat, she wore a thick embroidered shawl over her woolen gown. The briskness of her voice belied her gnarled appearance, however. Rapping out orders over the hectic clatter from the scullery, she kept servers, cooks, and kitchen maids scurrying about under her shrill direction.

She seemed strangely familiar to Alec; after a moment’s puzzled thought he realized that she must have been the model for the disguise Seregil had assumed when he booked their passage in Boersby.

I like the touch that Alec recognizes Seregil's disguises from this woman. It makes me wonder about the inspiration for Aren, Rolan and Gwethelyn.

There's a kitchen worker/second in command named Cilia and she and Thryis are very happy to see and fuss over Seregil. They're very curious about Alec, of course. All Seregil says is that Alec will be living upstairs. Cilia is friendly, Thyris seems a little suspicious. Seregil says that Alec will come and go as pleases and that no one is to answer questions about him to anyone.

Cilia, it should be noted, has a baby named Luthas. There's also a cat, somewhere, named Ruetha, who Thryis complains about. It seems like a full and busy place. Seregil gives some relationship info. A guy named Diomis, who is mentioned but not met, is Thryis's son. Cilia is HIS daughter. And no one knows who Cilia's son's father is. Apparently she'd conceived deliberately, because of talk of military conscription. Cilia had decided to make sure she wasn't eligible. Fair enough. (Seregil had been offered the honor, but he declined.)

So then they go inside. Seregil uses a number of foreign sounding passwords and gets them into his personal quarters, which admittedly, seem pretty swanky:

Shelves packed with books and racks of scrolls covered half the wall opposite the door. More books were stacked on the dining table that stood in the center of the room, and still more on the mantel. An immense carpet woven in patterns of red, blue, and gold lay between the central table and the hearth. Rush matting covered the rest of the floor.

Spaced along the wall to his right were two small windows facing out over the back court; a small writing desk stood under the right-hand one, the pigeon holes in its low back holding a neat collection of pens, inks, drawing quills, rolls of vellum and parchment, and wax tablets. The desk, along with most of the other furniture in the room, was made of a pale wood inlaid with darker bands along the edges. The design, pleasing in its simplicity, was noticeably different from the ornate furnishings of the Orëska.

A long, scarred table beneath the second window was littered with locks, tools, stacks of books, what appeared to be a small forge, and dozens of half-assembled things that defied immediate description. Shelves holding a bewildering assortment of objects framed the window and filled the remaining wall. More locks, more tools, rough chunks of metal and wood, and a number of devices whose uses Alec could not guess were mixed indiscriminately among masks, carvings, musical instruments of all descriptions, animal skulls, dried plants, fine pottery, glittering crystals—there was no rhyme or reason apparent in the arrangement. A broad collar of gold and rubies caught the light from the lamp on the desk, sending ruddy spangles of light across a large lump of baked mud that might have been either a crude bowl or some sort of nest.

On the section of wall that jutted into the room to the left of the entrance hung a collection of weapons, mostly swords and knives, apparently chosen for their unusual design and ornamentation. Beyond it, near the corner, was another door. Trunks and chests stood everywhere—along the base of walls, stacked in corners, under tables. Statues peered out from odd corners some lovely, some grotesque. Eclectic to the point of eccentricity, the overall effect of the room was nevertheless one of warmth and cluttered, haphazard grace.

Alec compares it to the Oreska museum and asks where he got it all. Some was stolen, Seregil gives Alec a bit of backstory on a few of the items. Alec notes something strange to him though: there are windows. But there weren't any windows visible from the outside. Apparently that's Nysander's doing.

Alec then gets shown the bedroom with a very enormous bed. (...I'm Watching You, Seregil. He's still a bit young for THAT.) But what he's really being shown is the secret passage out. More foreign passwords, that Alec will be expected to learn. He also meets Ruetha, the cat.

Then Seregil...does this:

Back in the sitting room Seregil rummaged a moment in his pack, then retrieved his cloak from the mermaid and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” Alec asked in surprise.

“There’s a little matter I need to look into tonight. Make yourself at home. Here’s the key to the attic door. You don’t know the command words yet, so if you need to leave just use the back way. Don’t go out unless you absolutely have to, though. You won’t be able to get back in without me. Don’t even try. You could get badly hurt. I’ll probably be gone most of the night, so don’t wait up. Oh, damn!”

Seregil paused, frowning. “I forgot to have them send up a bed for you. Use mine for tonight, and we’ll figure out something tomorrow. Good night!”

Alec stared at the door for a moment, stunned by Seregil’s abrupt and unexpected departure. For weeks they’d seldom been out of each other’s sight, and now this! Left so unceremoniously by himself in unfamiliar surrounding, he felt abandoned.

Really, Seregil? Really?

We close out the scene with Alec feeling overwhelmed and lonely, too intimidated to go back to the kitchen where there's warmth and people because he won't be able to get back in. Instead he gets to be miserable, alone and overwhelmed. Yay!

--

So what is Seregil DOING?

Being kind of a dick, fo course:

And of course, thinking about Scrub was far more comfortable than acknowledging the growing gnaw of guilt in his belly. Not only over what he was about to do in the way of disobeying Nysander, either. It took several minutes of determined riding before he was ready to face the fact that seeing Alec standing there in his own private sanctuary, he’d suddenly panicked. And fled.

It had nothing to do with Alec himself, of course. But it still wasn’t a very pleasant feeling. Better to ignore it, he decided.

Actually, I don't blame Seregil for disobeying Nysander. Nysander deserves that for his cryptic bullshit. But a good mentor doesn't abandon his student just because the mentor got a case of nerves, dude.

Hmph.

Anyway, we learn a bit about Seregil's other job as "the Rhiminee Cat". He's a thief for hire of course. He collects messages at a few places, including the Black Feather, which is a local brothel owned by a dude that Seregil's bribed. There's also a tavern and a respectable inn. No messages.

Well, you were out of town for a year or something?

So it's time for Seregil to angst about Alec a bit, as he parses through his own motives for taking Alec in:

Another twinge of guilt. Nysander’s parting words had not been lost on him. What had possessed him to take on the boy? Alec was talented, gifted even, a delight to teach. But he’d found that out after the fact, hadn’t he? The orphaned boy’s need? His vulnerability? His innate skill?

His pretty face?

Straying again too near truths he didn’t particularly wish to deal with, Seregil put an end to that line of thought as effortlessly as another man might snuff out a candle.

We're going to get a lot of this, as this book goes on, I think. Seregil is also obsessed with getting answers about his scar, and yeah, that's fair. If Nysander is going to make the guy go around with an imprint of a magical thing that almost killed him on his chest, then Seregil deserves to know more about it.

He ends up going to the temple of Illior (there's some nice description of all the temples here). Also a random miscellaneous note that comes up when Seregil passes by a place where folks try to get prophetic dreams, is that he doesn't remember dreaming at all since he woke up in Oreska House.

That seems like an important concern actually.

This is actually a pretty big section with lots of world building about Illior's temple. I like it. I'm not recapping it. Seregil gets to meet with a priestess. (Actually a pretty important one: Orphyria a Malani, who is the oldest high priest and great aunt to the Queen.)

He shows her a drawing of the symbol of the disk. She recognizes it as a "sigla" but doesn't know what it's "obscuring". She recommends he see the Oracle. (There's then a weird little side note after he leaves, where she has trouble getting up again due to her age and bangs her knee. Maybe there's some kind of point to it, but it does seem like it.

So now, Seregil heads to the Oracle chamber. It admittedly seems like a pretty creepy place. Seregil uses a ritual lightstone to descend the curved stairwall, but has to give it up before proceeding into the darkness.

Seregil then offers a few items as is ritually appropriate: a harp peg, a bit of Alec's fletching, a ball of waxed twine, a bent pick and an amulet.

So then he gets brought before the Oracle, who is a young man, insane, but in a blessed and prophetic way apparently.

This bit is pretty cool:

Kneeling before him, Seregil cast his handful of objects on the floor. The Oracle bent eagerly, muttering to himself as he sorted through them.

After a moment he tossed the pick away with a contemptuous grunt. The amulet was served in the same manner, and then the twine. Taking up the peg, he held it to his ear as if listening, then hummed a few bars of a song Seregil had composed as a child and long since forgotten. Smiling to himself, the Oracle tucked this under the edge of his pallet.

Finally he picked up the parchment scrap and the fletching, holding them in each hand as if to weigh one against the other. Twirling the bit of feather between thumb and forefinger, he stared at it closely and then handed it back, folding Seregil’s fingers tightly around it with his own.

“A child of earth and light,” the Oracle whispered. “Earth and light!”

“Whose child?”

The seer’s mouth broadened into a sly grin. “Yours now!” he replied, tapping Seregil sharply on the chest with his finger. “Father, brother, friend, and lover! Father, brother, friend, and lover!”

Well. That's pretty not-subtle.

The parchment however gets a different reaction:

The mad rhyme rang off the walls as the Oracle rocked with childish delight, chanting it over and over to himself. Then, as quickly as he had started he ceased, and his broad face grew still again. Holding the parchment between his palms, he stiffened like an epileptic. The silence closed around them, holding unbroken for a matter of minutes.

“Death.” It was hardly a whisper, but the Oracle repeated it, more loudly this time. There was no mistaking it. “Death! Death, and life in death. The eater of death gives birth to monsters. Guard you well the Guardian! Guard well the Vanguard and the Shaft!”

Eyes momentarily sane, the Oracle handed it back to Seregil. “Burn this and make no more,” he warned darkly, crushing it against Seregil’s palm. “Obey Nysander!”

So that happened.

Seregil heads home, to angst about the Oracle's words:

As he rode back to the Cockerel, Seregil wondered dourly if he was any further ahead than before. The Oracle’s mention of Alec had taken him aback, although the messages seemed clear enough, particularly the reference to earth and light. As for the little rhyme, “father” and “brother” must have been meant figuratively, for such a blood relationship was clearly impossible. But “friend,” certainly.

That left lover. Seregil shifted irritably in the saddle; evidently oracles were not infallible.

Seregil is a fucking idiot.

(Though the reference to earth and light is more significant. Because Seregil is a hypocrite, we won't understand for quite some time.)

Look, I'm on board with waiting, dude. Because the kid IS sixteen. But he's not going to be sixteen forever, you dolt.

Anyway, Seregil also mulls over the whole Guardian, Shaft and Vanguard thing. He'd ask Nysander, but well...

He finally goes upstairs:

“Damn, damn, damn!” he muttered, crossing to the hearth to lay on more wood. As the flames sprang up, he discovered Alec asleep on the narrow couch behind him.

He lay curled up in a tight ball, one arm bent beneath his head, the other hanging down to the floor and pale with cold. Ruetha had tucked herself up against his belly, tail folded around her nose.

What’s he doing out here? Seregil frowned down at the two of them, irked to think that Alec would be too bashful to take advantage of a proper bed. As he bent to spread his cloak over the boy, he was surprised to see the traces of dried tears on Alec’s cheek.

Something to do with his father? he wondered, mystified and somewhat distressed at the thought of Alec crying.

Retiring to his own chamber, he undressed in the dark and slipped gratefully between the fresh sheets.

Honestly, Alec's age really isn't the biggest obstacle in this potential relationship. The biggest obstacle in this potential relationship is that Seregil is a fucking idiot.

I feel more and more kinship with Thero the farther I get into this story.