I Read What?!

So last time, Ian and Niall made their way back to Homana and had a fascinating encounter that might just have proven that chaotic evil is not a universal trait!



This chapter starts out as a downer already when our boys discover marks on the doors of Mujhara. Initially they can't figure out the significance, but then it hits them: a red slash meant that there was plague in the dwelling. A black slash meant someone had died.

I'm not sure how they independently know this, but maybe there's some pre-existing color-affiliation in Homanan culture that we've never been told. I know I've complained about this before, but it really does bug me that Homanan culture is such a blank slate in this series. We STILL don't know how the Homanan religion differs from that practiced by the Cheysuli or Ihlini, for example.

Anyway, it gets worse. As they head through the town, people start making ward signs against them. It's Cheysuli-based bigotry all over again, though this time, because of the plague. They reach the palace and Niall tries not to look at whether there's a red or black slash on the door.

You're going to find out eventually, dude. But okay. Worse, Ian chooses this moment to part ways with Niall: he wants to go to Clankeep and find out about Isolde and the others. He'll be back as soon as he can. Both brothers are afraid of what they'll find.

Serri is a warm dose of practicality, telling Niall not to beg misfortune, and see what's true before he panics.

Niall's first priority is his sons. He goes to the nursery: there are five women there. They show him to the babies, who look healthy. The reassure him about Aislinn and Gisella: both are well. But Niall had seen a red slash on the palace. The servants answer: it's General Rowan.

Noooo. Not Rowan! Why wasn't he south with Donal?! Why couldn't Donal have got it instead???

The servants try to urge Niall not to go to him, but Niall is nothing if not dramatic. He's about to leave, only to come face to face with Gisella. She's angry, and well, she has a point:

Hands clutched a soft wool shawl over her distended abdomen. “You did not go in,” she said. “Not into the nursery!”

“Gisella.”

“You did not expose my sons to plague?” She was astonished, angry, genuinely frightened. “Niall?”

“I saw them,” I told her gently. “Did you think I would stay away?”

I realize that we're not going to get enlightened germ theory in this setting, but Gisella, for all her limitations, isn't wrong here. They don't seem to know exactly how the plague is spread. Niall's been outside, wandering through the town. He COULD have been exposed.

Gisella rants at the other women: apparently she'd told them that Niall wasn't to be allowed in. Niall tells her that no one in the palace has the right to keep him from his children. She says she does. And she points out that his alternate form is a white wolf: a plague carrier.

The last part is a little irrational: it's probably not the color of the wolves that specifically makes them plague carriers. But still, they don't really know WHAT causes the plague. Niall thinks he's fine, but what if he's just asymptomatic so far?

To be fair to Niall, he doesn't blame Gisella for her fear. And Serri is a dose of reason, urging him to give her time. When Gisella sees that Niall isn't getting sick, she'll calm down. And it IS admirable to both of them that Gisella, who has moved herself between him and the cradle, is basically protecting the kids with her own life.

Niall decides to yield the battlefield, for now at least. But has Serri stay, as he doesn't completely trust Gisella's temper.

...didn't we establish that lir can get the plague too? I feel like this isn't very reassuring. But okay.

So now, Niall goes to Rowan. And okay, I definitely see Gisella's point here, considering that Niall is blithely walking into the room of a man dying of plague. But this is all very sad.

As a weird note, Niall mentions that he smells the scent of "beeswax and the promise of coming death". This reminds me randomly of Alix saying that the Lion Throne smelled like beeswax and power. I'm not sure what it is with this place and fucking beeswax.

Anyway, Rowan's not alone, at least:

My mother’s back was to me as I entered noiselessly. I saw only the chair and the top of her head above it, red-gold hair muted in the dim glow of candlelight. As I approached, I saw how she sat very quietly in the chair, hands folded in her lap. And when I reached her, I saw how rigidly her fingers were locked together.

I heard how she spoke to him.

“—so faithfully,” she was saying. “He had no one as faithful as you. Oh, I know, you would argue there was Finn, as loyal a liege man as could be, but the loyalty did not last. Not as it should have lasted. Not as your loyalty lasted.” Fingernails picked absently at the soft nap of the jade-green wool of her skirts. “I know the story, Rowan: how as a boy you swore to serve Carillon as no other man could serve him, even as he was driven from Homana by Bellam of Solinde. How you never failed your duty to the rightful Prince of Homana. And when he came home again, the rightful Mujhar of Homana, you gave him what aid you could. You helped him become a king.”

I looked at the man in the bed. Much of him was hidden beneath layers of heavy blankets, and I could not see his face. I could not see him breathe.

“And when my father was slain by Osric, and Donal became Mujhar, you were there to help him also. To help him hold the Lion.” I heard the minute wavering of her voice. “One day, my son will need you, as the others have needed you. How can you leave us now? How can you fail Niall?”

Oh, now this is heartbreaking.

I think I've said this before, but one thing I really do appreciate about Track of the White Wolf is how we get the sense that there are other stories and other lives happening that Niall isn't privy to. Ian and Isolde's life in the palace for example. Their relationship with their stepmother. Aislinn and Rowan's dynamic is another one that's worth thinking about.

Rowan's been basically a constant for all of Aislinn's life. He's the one person that she knows who loved Carillon as much as she did. And possibly as blindly. He really wasn't worthy of that love in the end, but who could tell them that.

I am maybe a little defensive of Finn here though. Because Finn's loyalty broke only when Carillon chose to trust the woman he'd forced into marriage over the man who'd devoted his life to him. But now isn't the time to argue semantics.

Anyway, Aislinn is horrified to see Niall in the doorway. She tells him not to come in, pointing out that she isn't the heir to the throne. Niall is both honorable and stupid, explaining that he owes Rowan his attendance as much as Aislinn owes him hers.

Yeah, but Rowan wouldn't want you to get sick, dude.

Aislinn has sent a message to Donal, but she doubts he'll get back in time. And indeed, Rowan looks terrible: grey and very gaunt, with lips that are also gray, swollen and cracked. His breathing is labored.

It gets sadder:

I looked at my mother sharply. “Is there no one we can call?”

“Nothing is left,” she told me gently. “What can be done has already been done twice over.”

“Is there no kin to share his passing?”

“He is quite alone,” my mother said. “His family was all of us.”

Bleakly, I shook my head. “Gods,” I said, “what sterility. No wife, no children, no clan…not even a lir to grieve.”

I don't think Rowan found it so bleak, really. Aside from being stuck dealing with Donal, he'd always seemed pretty content with his life. As it turns out though, there is something that Niall can do for him.

And then he opened his eyes; there was more left than I had expected. “My lord,” he said, and smiled. “My lord—you have been away so long.”

The voice had been ruined by his coughing. He sounded nothing like himself. “Aye,” I said, “but home now. And will stay here, for a while.”

The lids drifted closed, then opened once again. “My lord—” He drew a rattling breath. “Carillon—”

One thing I will give Roberson credit for. She's been telling us all book how much Niall looks like Carillon. This has been a source of self-consciousness and consternation for Niall. Even as he's come to terms with it, clearing the air with his mother, it's yet to prove itself to be any real advantage for him. Even the Homanans don't care that much: they've got another candidate, symbolically closer to the man.

But it does bring us here. To this point. THIS is the point where Niall's face becomes a gift rather than a burden. And it has nothing to do with politics or intimidation, or grabbing the coattails of past glories.

Niall's resemblance to Carillon is a gift because it allows him to bring comfort to a dying friend. And there's something really heartwarming about that.

It's also kind of sweet that apparently Rowan is a shipper at heart:

“Carillon, I beg you—take Finn back into your service—”

I shut my eyes. “Rowan.”

“I know what constitutes an oath… I know you made one, broke one, according to Cheysuli tradition…but make a new tradition. You both need one another.”

I get a dark satisfaction out of this, because I remember that moment in Legacy of the Sword, where Carillon offers Finn his place back. I remember Donal looking at Rowan and assuming that Rowan would be upset and concerned about his own place. This is proof that Donal doesn't know what he's talking about. (See also: his assumption that Meghan would never leave the Keep, when we learn she actually did marry Evan!)

This is a tangent of course from a very sad and sweet scene. Because of course, Niall won't break Rowan's heart here.

His hand was on my wrist. The fingers were so dry, so hot, so oddly insubstantial. Even the calluses were losing their customary toughness. “Oh, my lord,” he whispered. “Oh, my lord, it has been an easy service. I could not have asked for a better lord—”

I shut his limp hand up in both of mine. “Nor could I have asked for a better friend.”

This leads Rowan to reminisce about their first meeting: in the Atvian camp, and his memories of a captive prince calling a nameless boy a "kinspirit", and begging for his life.

“It was Keough—it was Keough who would have had me slain—when I spilled the wine… Thorne would have slain me, but you begged for my life. You begged for it, my lord—you offered to take my place….” Again, he coughed. His hand clutched mine. “But—they did not listen. And I was flogged…for spilling wine. And when Alix rescued me, I swore then I would serve you all my life—even when you went into exile.” The smile brought fresh blood to his swollen lips. “How I wished I could have been Finn…when I heard a Cheysuli had gone with you, I wished it could have been me—”

Breath rattled in his chest. I thought he could not go on.

But he did. “All those years—all those years I envied him his position as liege man to Carillon…and yet by denying my race as a boy—by denying my lir—I also denied any chance I might have been the warrior you trusted so readily. And when he was gone—when you sent him from your service—I thought I would rejoice…but I did not. I was not Finn…and you needed him. You needed us both….” He sighed. “Oh my lord, take him back into your service. Homana has need of all her children.”

Oh, Rowan.

Niall wishes him the Cheysuli peace: “Cheysuli i’halla shansu.”. Rowan laughs a little, reminding him that he's a lirless man. But Niall just repeats it. And Rowan dies.

I like this bit too. Because even though Rowan isn't aware of it, Niall is giving him another gift here. Something he hasn't ever had before.

For all of Rowan's life, at least since he rejected his lir, he's been told that he's not Cheysuli. He can't serve the prophecy. He has no connection to the gods, and will be denied their afterlife. But here, a Cheysuli is giving him the acknowledgement that he's always deserved. I think Rowan would have been moved by that.

And here we lose the last of our original faces from Shapechangers. At twelve years old, he was the best male character in that book by far. And for all the nonsense about not being able to serve the Prophecy, Rowan has devotedly served both the man who ended the qu'mahlin, and the first Cheysuli Mujhar in centuries. He's protected their bodies and led their armies. Who can really say they served the prophecy any better?

I personally take some comfort in the fact that Rowan died at approximately 56 years old. (He was twelve or thirteen years older than Donal, who was twenty-four in Legacy of the Sword.) That means that he's not only the last surviving protagonist, but the one who made it longer. He's passed Alix (39), Carillon (40), Finn (50/47, depending on whether we use Shapechangers or Song chronology) and Duncan (52/49 - and to be fair, I'm not sure how much of the last fifteen years really counted.)

Good show, Rowan. Good show.

The sadness isn't over though. Because of the plague, Rowan isn't even going to get the funeral or burial that he deserves:

I snapped my wrist free of her hand. “If you think I will delegate the responsibility for this man’s disposal to someone else merely because of rank—”

“No,” she said clearly. “It has nothing to do with rank. If I thought it would bring me peace, I would dig the grave myself. But they would never allow me the honor.”

“They?” I frowned. “Who would not?”

She looked past me to the dead man in the bed. “There is no choice. It is a time of plague…a time of new—and ugly—traditions. A time requiring measures ordinarily we could refuse. But not even those of the House of Homana may ask to be excused.”

“Jehana—”

“They will take him away,” she said plainly, “to a common grave outside the walls. And there he and the others will be put to the torch so the plague will be consumed.”

One of the biggest flaws in this book, I think, is that there is so MUCH going on at one time. Alaric's schemes, Lillith's, Strahan's, the war in Solinde, the bastard and his army, the a'saii, and the plague. I feel like we go back and forth through too many beats, without giving any of them the real focus that they deserve.

That said, the plague beat is the most substantial, I think. For moments like this. And well, maybe because of everything going on in the real world. It definitely hits harder than anything else for me.

(...though I suppose, the juxtaposition of the Make Homana Great Again asshats with the deadly plague is perhaps a bit prophetic after all.)

Anyway, Niall thinks Rowan deserves so much more than that, but Aislinn tells him that it'd be the same for Niall himself. "There are no titles in death."

The chapter ends with Niall and Aislinn grieving together, and a silent prayer to the gods to "accept this Cheysuli warrior."