Coldfire re-read: When True Night Falls - chapter 22

[trobadora]

Today we're moving into Terate country. Be afraid ... for there are children involved! ;)

Plot summary

They cross the mountains and reach the valley of the Terata, where they wait for Tarrant. Together they descend into the valley, and Tarrant discovers traces of strange sorcery in the currents - and the human life he detected earlier is gone. What they do find: Someone's been engaging in biological experiments, but wasn't as good at it as Tarrant. (Naturally. *g*) And Tarrant demonstrates an impressive ability to reconstruct how that sorceror must think, just from the evidence at hand. (May I call him Sherlock Tarrant? :D)

And then they camp for the day - and while Tarrant's away, Damien and Hesseth (inevitably) are captured by the Terata. Which is to say, by evil children. Oops?

Quotes

• How much I've changed, he mused as they made camp one night. Once I would have stood back and let him die. Once I thought that nothing could be worse than freeing the Hunter to feed again. Now I protect him without a second thought, and calmly wave good-bye while he goes off to murder countless innocents. But the situation was different now and he knew it. Tarrant had saved his own life several times, and while he understood that it was always for a selfish purpose - the Neocount never did anything except to benefit himself - the fact remained that he had done it.
  That changed how you looked at a man, whether you wanted it to or not.


• Use evil to fight evil, the Prophet wrote. If you're lucky, they'll destroy each other. Is that what I want? That Tarrant should die in combat, delivering the world from two evils at once?
  He shut his eyes. His hands were shaking.
  I don't know. I'm not sure anymore. Not sure of anything.
  He said that his presence would corrupt me. Has it begun already? Is this what corruption feels like?


• He tried to explain it all. How the earth-fae surged up from the beneath the planet's crust with enough force to kill. How it settled down soon after and then flowed like water over the land, in currents that could be mapped and harnessed, from the strongest tide down to the tiniest ripple. Since humans used the earth-fae for their Workings, he explained, then all their Workings must flow with the currents. Thus Tarrant or he could attempt to Know their enemy - in other words, interpret the effect of his presence upon the earth-fae - but it would take tremendous power to launch an active assault against the current.


• "You're such strangers to this world, you humans. You come here and redefine our very world, you sculpt our native species as though they were clay, you spawn a thousand monsters each time you draw a breath . . . but you never really belong here. Not even after all these years. You live on this planet, but you're not part of it."


• "You sound more curious than afraid."
  The Neocount chuckled. "Does that surprise you?"
  "No." Despite himself he smiled. "I guess not."
  "We are what we are, Reverend Vryce. And I was a scholar long before I became . . . what I am." A faint smile creased the corners of his lips. "Scholar enough to know what you fear most of all, Reverend. Tonight I'll Work the weather as best I can, so that tomorrow the valley mist is lifted. If that's possible," he amended.


• He didn't need to look at Tarrant to know that the man's eyes were fixed on him, and that he was studying Damien with more than mere sight. "A night of prayer would do you good, Reverend Vryce. It would cleanse your spirit."
  He looked up sharply at Tarrant, expecting to see mockery in those pale eyes. But to his surprise there was none. Instead he saw something that might, in another man, be called compassion.
  Was that possible? Had so much of the Hunter's veneer been stripped away by their recent experience that he was capable of such an emotion? His cruel persona had been forged and tempered in the solitude of the Forbidden Forest, where his only companions were demons and wraiths and a few carefully chosen men who had likewise sacrificed their emotional birthright. Was it being worn so thin by the constant presence of humanity that a hint of the original Neocount could begin to peek through?
  We're making you more human, he mused.
  The thought was strangely chilling.


• It's just nature, he told himself. Species have adapted to meet the special demands of this place. But that didn't seem right, somehow. Tarrant's Forest had been horrible, but all the elements were interlocked in perfect biological harmony; you could sense that balance, even though you were repelled by its tenor. But here . . . there was too much death, he decided. Too much decay. It was as if Nature's precious balance had somehow been overburdened, as if something had been introduced or removed - or changed - that threw the whole system out of kilter.


• "Nature is infinitely complex, Reverend Vryce. Who knows that better than I? A natural ecosystem is a delicately balanced creation, with all sorts of checks and balances that are continuously evolving in tandem. Nothing like this. The simplicity of it, and the waste . . . I sense a human hand behind it. Very inexperienced, limited in understanding, perhaps overwhelmed by its failure to control. Because in order to establish a new species properly, you have to make sure it comes equipped with counterspecies: predators, parasites, diseases, degraders. That wasn't done here. Such power, without understanding the consequences of applying it. No wonder there was such destruction."

Thoughts

• Damien worrying about corruption - I know we've discussed that several times before, but nonetheless: Do you think he's being corrupted? He is looking the other way while Tarrant kills, after all, and is becoming less and less bothered by it. On the other hand, here Tarrant is choosing to go after the bad guys, not the most convenient victims, and later he shows Damien compassion, so Damien's not the only one being "corrupted" - and he knows it. Does that make a difference? Any thoughts?


• What Hesseth says about humans never really belonging on Erna makes me think about the trilogy's ending again. I almost hate to bring it up here (again), but don't you think what the ending does is make sure they never will belong? Blinding humans to the fae, removing what adaptation to Erna humanity's produced? And tries to sell us that as a good thing, even though it's been criticised all through the trilogy? It certainly feels that way to me.


• The Hunter saying he learns from his mistakes - that's another one of those things I enjoy immensely about these books: Our heroes never insist that they couldn't possibly be wrong. Even Tarrant in his arrogance acknowledges when he's made a mistake, and doesn't regard himself beyond that. Too much the scholar, I suppose - a good scholar. (I really, really love that, I can't stress it enough.)


• Perhaps I shouldn't find it funny that Tarrant uses his flaming sword coldfire sword as a machete. But I do. *g*


• We also get lots of hints about our villain's powers, what with all the emphasis this chapter puts on the vanished traces of humans on the currents in the valley - not there and gone, but as if they'd never been there. Good set-up for the (rather different) valley in the third book, too, wouldn't you say?


• Evil children, oh dear. Well, we've seen them with Jenseny already, and we know where this is going, of course, but do you remember what you thought here at first? I admit it, every time something like this happens I secretly want the heroes to just kill the brats already ...

On Thursday, we'll be continuing with chapters 23-26 - four chapters, but don't worry, they're short ones. :-)

Comments

[carmentalis.livejournal.com]

I'm not sure I'd call what happens to Damien corruption. More like he finally applies pragmatism to that particular aspect of having Tarrant on his side. He's not cheering him on, and it still makes him uncomfortable to think about the details. In a way, he's choosing the lesser evil - and it's not like arguing would get him anywhere. It surprised me more that Gerald showed him that particular sort of consideration, actually. With his penchant for poking Damien's sore spots, it would have been such an opportunity to provoke another argument.

That they accept the possibilities of mistakes is great. What is even better is Gerald's fretting whenever he's made one. *g* It's so obvious that he hates being wrong about something, no matter what importance it carries.

With the Terata, I was just rolling my eyes. I've got a bit of an aversion towards the "evil kids as threat" plot device - it's rather predictable in its two possible outcomes (redemption or shock value through punishment). I was also having some trouble seeing the kids able to keep Hesseth and Damien prisoner. It simply didn't convince me.

[trobadora]

Yeah, I agree about Damien choosing the lesser evil - but some would say that's exactly what corruption is, convincing yourself one evil is more acceptable than the other. (Not me, obviously. I'm rather ruthlessly pragmatic, philosophically speaking.)

As for Gerald's kindness - yes, he does enjoy poking Damien, but not when it will hamper their mission. Like Damien, he knows when to step back and be pragmatic about these things. *g* Also, remember exactly what he's advising Damien to do - I'm sure a part of him is rather proud of Damien as a man of faith and enjoys seeing that, not even quite despite himself.

Gerald's fretting is wonderful. And yes, I love it all the more that no matter how much he hates being wrong, he never denies it when he discovers he is. I adore that kind of intellectual honesty. ♥

Totally agreed on the Terata, btw. Bah, off with their heads already. ;-)

[carmentalis.livejournal.com]

For me his awareness that what's happening is fundamentally wrong is the saving grace. If he thought it good, that's when I'd call him corrupted (and when he'd stop being interesting for me, and, I suspect, for Tarrant). But it's a case of semantics.

It amuses me to no end that Damien is, religiously speaking, something of a disciple to Gerald's prophet. And it's a role he accepts quite willingly, too.

"Yes, I was wrong. I shall now retreat to a high location and sulk until Vryce comes to fetch me. I will never, ever, under any circumstances, repeat this mistake. And I'll smite the person responsible for the circumstances that caused it."

Totally agreed on the Terata, btw. Bah, off with their heads already. ;-)

Damien really should have been able to cope with that particular favour. Though admittedly I always entertain myself imagining those nasty brats starving to death on their island now.

[trobadora]

Agreed about the awareness - it's what matters to me, too. But then I'm not a religious person.

It amuses me to no end that Damien is, religiously speaking, something of a disciple to Gerald's prophet. And it's a role he accepts quite willingly, too.

I love, love, love that aspect of it and would adore more fic dealing with this. SO MUCH.

(And the only reason why I don't mind Damien and Hesseth letting themselves be captured too much is because it leads to another lovely rescue on Gerald's part. *g*)

[fragorl.livejournal.com]

hmmm on the point of view of the ending I always somewhat thought that this was her intention. It is as if she demonstrates the fundamental flaws in the outlook of the church by showing their failure to deal with Tarrant's nature at the very start -they were too fixated on the single minded view that earth was to be revered and all things fae to be discouraged - their objective was in many ways entirely selfish - not survive in the way best for the planet but to regain the universe and their birthright etc. They didnt WANT to belong on Erna - i dont think the actually ever did - not after the sacrifice and that made them out of place entirely - I always kind of saw the ending as an acknowledgement that they can get entirely what they wanted and it can still read to us as a bad thing. Its like that with Gerald and Damien in a way too - Damien wants to redeem him - sees it almost as his driving mission as a priest- and at the end he achieves it - through it losing his connections to the priesthood and finds his life strangely empty - Gerald becomes more human BECAUSE of Damien's inflience/friendship - it is this which he has to lose in order to get the redemption he wanted.

[carmentalis.livejournal.com]

It is as if she demonstrates the fundamental flaws in the outlook of the church by showing their failure to deal with Tarrant's nature at the very start

Good point. It's something that's always bugged me about it, too, and it makes me wonder about other colonies. Were they sent out to recreate Earth on their planets, or is it a special case on this one? They might be clinging to the Earth heritage because of what they've lost, but some of the extremes they're taking it to are far beyond healthy.

it is this which he has to lose in order to get the redemption he wanted.

It's probably better to keep this one until next Thursday when the redemption issue comes up in a major way, but I don't agree with it. Redemption, I think, was never something Gerald was interested in. ;-)

[prettyarbitrary.livejournal.com]

I don't know that it's necessarily something the colonies were explicitly sent out to do, but it may've been implicit or inherent in the colonists' mindsets. They're from Earth. Of course they expect to make their new home a new Earth. Erna, however, forced a confrontation between their expectations and the nature of the planet...and for a long time, the planet won.

It regresses me straight to the whole "What is the nature of the conflict in this story?" stuff from high school classes. Man vs. himself! Man vs. Man! Man vs. Nature! Augh.

Only, I think here it may be a deconstruction, or at least not an uncritical presentation of the conflict. fragorl makes an excellent point about the setup being explicit pretty early on. Tarrant, I think (especially after how ticked off he is about people killing all the Adepts--"The only adaptation humans have ever made to this planet!" he fumes) saw no reason they couldn't have both, but it's made clear that when offered a choice, most humans would prefer to subdue the planet than work with it. So in the end (like in every ho-hum pulp sci-fi ever) mankind vanquishes nature...but what is it saying when an alternative way was presented and dismissed? When it's obvious that it was their choice and not a matter of survival to handle it the way they did?

[trobadora]

So in the end (like in every ho-hum pulp sci-fi ever) mankind vanquishes nature...but what is it saying when an alternative way was presented and dismissed? When it's obvious that it was their choice and not a matter of survival to handle it the way they did?

See, here's the thing - I'm not entirely sure we're supposed to see it that way. Perhaps that will become clearer when we reread the relevant passages, but all in all I remember the Patriarch being portrayed with much less criticism than this would imply.

[prettyarbitrary.livejournal.com]

I don't know that criticism of the Patriarch is relevant, necessarily. He's just doing what it's clear the character would do, and he at least is trying to do his best by people. I don't necessarily see it as his choice, is the thing. It's more the aggregate of humanity on Erna in general--and we get plenty of criticism about that from Tarrant, and from what the Eastern continent has become, and through characters like Andrys.

And more to the point, I meant that I take the fact that there's another option presented in the text at all as an implied criticism, or at least as an implicit question: why this way, and not that one? A smart writer--and Friedman can almost be too clever for her own good--wouldn't even raise a question like that without expecting readers to wonder about the result, so I assume we're meant to.

Of course, she can be a bit too clever for her own good. The other possibility is that the story got away from her, and she ended up having to resolve it without tying off all the loose ends. I thought that for a long time, and I admit it's still an idea I can't entirely shake.

[trobadora]

I don't know that criticism of the Patriarch is relevant, necessarily.

Well, the question is whether or not you feel the narrative approves of his actions. I always felt it did.

I'm not sure whether things got away from her, or whether she opted for an ending that's incompatible with my own outlook, but either way I cannot find any text-based interpretation (as opposed to speculation about authorial intent) that leaves me satisfied with it.

Of course, that may very well be a problem with me, not the text. *g*

[trobadora]

I had to think about your comment for quite a while, and I'm still not sure what I actually think. *g* It never occured to me that it could have been meant to be seen as a less-than-positive ending! If that's the case, of course everything would be different. And yet somehow I'm not sure I can really believe that.

[prettyarbitrary.livejournal.com]

I decided a while back that the ending wasn't meant to be uncritical. Friedman proves herself too canny a writer for me to believe that she would've meant it as entirely positive when she's spent time through the entire series dwelling on the fact that Tarrant long ago offered them another option.

[prettyarbitrary.livejournal.com]

...But now that I think about it, maybe I've been missing a significant piece of the puzzle all this time. If the ending is humanity refuting Tarrant's vision...is there another, thematic reason that Tarrant is a major player in this whole thing (not to mention his final resolution)?

Is this all about human adaptability, or the inability to adapt, when so much changes and yet stays the same? Is it saying something about prophets and how people relate to them? Oh, now I'm so confused!

[trobadora]

I'm not sure where you're going with this, but I'd love to hear you elaborate. Maybe you're on to something here!

[prettyarbitrary.livejournal.com]

I'm not sure where I'm going with it either. But we've got several storylines converging at the end. So it occurred to me, I think we're mostly all trying to tie everything back to Damien and Tarrant's tale, but of course that leaves it feeling kind of...unresolved. And maybe that's because some of those bits don't actually fit into that particular puzzle.

Theirs is a very intimate story, really--personal horror, personal transformation. People keep observing that none of the bad guys really stack up, and I think that's because the story of dealing with their enemies takes a back seat compared to the story of Tarrant and Damien themselves, and what they do to one another. Even though saving the world is their motivation for putting themselves through it, no villain could wreak as much havoc on them as they do on themselves. In many ways, that's a very self-contained tale.

But it's not the only tale. Humanity's rolling along while those two are tied up in their own private hell, and of course world domination plots should have widespread repercussions. To see those, we have to move out to a second plotline, which is where we get the big finale with all the burning and the fae going away and everything. And there, we have three forces at work: Tarrant's dream for humanity, humanity's own opinions, and Calesta's vision. We've also got three books' worth of dwelling on origins and outcomes (first prologue: the Hunter's origin; second: Ernan humanity's origin; third: Andrys' origin), and evolution and instinct and choice and will and shaping one's destiny as opposed to accepting it.

So it occurs to me that the story is broader than Damien and Tarrant and...whatever they've got going on, exactly--seduction/redemption or finding equilibrium in one's soul or whatever that is. They might just be the most personal version. It's really about humanity and the process of growth on a number of levels (personal growth, adaptation, biological evolution, social change), asking things like, "How much of it is our choice and how much is foisted on us?" and maybe "What's a good outcome and what's a bad one? How do we know, and do value judgments even apply?"

So...maybe what we see at the end of COS is not a bad ending, but the ending to a story we're not necessarily interested in. Maybe we're caught up in asking about Tarrant and Damien's story in particular when the intention was to be caught up just as much in the resolution for Erna in general.

...And, was it a negative result? Now that I think about it, they're not entirely cut off from the fae. It doesn't respond to humans schizophrenically anymore, which is just as good for the rakh and everything as it is for the humans who keep getting eaten by demons. It'll only respond to the best in people now--the impulse to self-sacrifice. Is that meant to be an idealist result? That only the best in humanity is active in the fae? That if humans can find that kind of generosity in themselves, they can still be a part of the world?

[trobadora]

Is that meant to be an idealist result?

I'll come back to the rest of your comment later - very insightful! I'll have to think first! -, but yes, I do believe that's exactly what it's meant to be, and also what it can never be for me, regardless of Damien and Tarrant, because it hinges on denying what adaptations have been made - basically, back to point zero, start again. And because in real life, you can never push a reset button like that, it just reads as false and delusional to me. Does that make sense?

[prettyarbitrary.livejournal.com]

It does make sense. And the truth is, it's my inclination to read it like that, too. I keep wondering if that's me, if I'm biased to read it that way because of assumptions I'd developed about scifi or something, so I keep throwing different arguments at it to see if any alternatives click into place.

I'm not sure how much I believe what I wrote up there. The one thing that does sound like it might carry a ring of truth is that the ending might work as the ending to a story I'm not interested in--that there could be layers to what's going on, especially in CoS, that I'd just really rather not see, and thus I miss some thread that makes the ending resonate. Especially if they involve Andrys. :P I don't hate him, but he's so...pasty that I just cannot find my way to liking him.

[trobadora]

so I keep throwing different arguments at it to see if any alternatives click into place

And it's completely fascinating to watch, even if so far nothing has exactly clicked for me. *g*

You know, the weird part is that for me, this is a story I'm interested in - and yet, when I read the trilogy, my attention is always drawn away from it by the usual suspects. Maybe rereading CoS with a bit more attention to the non-D&T parts will help (even if I'm not exactly looking forward to the extra-large helping of Andrys).

[prettyarbitrary.livejournal.com]

Exactly. :) Those two are just so distracting!

[trobadora]

If it was meant to be critical of the "solution" provided, it utterly failed to make that noticeable to me. Not sure why that is ...

[shadowystar.livejournal.com]

I almost hate to bring it up here (again), but don't you think what the ending does is make sure they never will belong? Blinding humans to the fae, removing what adaptation to Erna humanity's produced?
I said something similar earlier (comment on Ch 5&6, I think), so no objection here...
And the question of corruption... Well, it usually runs both ways, even in BSR, if you know what to look for, and all the way through WNTF it becomes more evident. Don't you think being corrupted by Live is tempting for Gerald who kind of personifies Death? As in forbidden fruit, I mean? hehe (evil grin)

[trobadora]

Hm, I doubt he'd see it as tempting - I'm not even sure he'd see himself as personifying Death, except in other people's imagination. I just don't think he thinks about it in those terms.

[shadowystar.livejournal.com]

I just don't think he thinks about it in those terms.

Hm, I didn't say anything about consciously thinking (but somewhere Gerald refers to his restrictions on Working pointing out he only can do what is contrary to Live, Light and Fire that being Death, Darkness and Coldfire...) to more like a subconscious ... attraction? *grin*

[prettyarbitrary.livejournal.com]

Depends on your definition of corruption, I suppose. Does it make Damien more unclean, less moral, more, I dunno, twisted? Not necessarily. It may just make him more honest about the complications of trying to be a good person in the real world.

But does it adulterate him? Absolutely. And it does the same to Tarrant (although in his case, you could argue that it's more of returning to a previous state...maybe, if you think he really does). Neither of them end the same men they started as (literally!). So...I suppose it depends on what your definition of "self" is. How much change can two people effect in one another before you'd say it has affected the integrity of their identities? And wherever you draw that line, would you say that Damien and Tarrant cross it?

The evil children were done better than usual. I'm prepared to forgive her for the sheer creepiness of the little monsters (especially as it turns out they're not really children after all, necessarily).

I don't think the ending is sold as a good thing. I think the critique, or at least the ambiguity, of it is implicit in the question being asked in the first place, every time it's brought up that Tarrant's vision is no longer always the vision of the Church. Which one's right? Which one is more human? What's human nature, and what's rakhene nature, and how much of either should we simply accept because it's just the way we are? Where do the lines of morality and instinct and species fall?

Damien and Tarrant don't seem to even bother asking those questions, but I don't think that's meant to be read as acceptance of it. They might be too exhausted, or maybe they figure they've suffered enough and working out the implications of this development can be somebody else's job. Or maybe, as they say, that's another story.

[trobadora]

It may just make him more honest about the complications of trying to be a good person in the real world.

That's how I see it, yes.

Damien and Tarrant don't seem to even bother asking those questions, but I don't think that's meant to be read as acceptance of it.

Agreed - it's not about Damien and Tarrant. But the narrative as a whole? I'm still not decided on what to think about that. (I know what I feel, but I can't entirely support it even if I can't find a better alternative interpretation either.) In other words, still thinking. *g*

[prettyarbitrary.livejournal.com]

More things. I wish I could edit my posts...

Damien tried hard not to worry about Tarrant. Tried not to remember that once in the past the Hunter had left their company and then not returned. It seemed so long ago that he'd been captured, almost in another life . . . but the enemy was the same. In the rakhlands it had taken the form of a woman, here it might be a man or rakh or even a true demon - but there was no question in his own mind that the two powers were linked.

First of all, aha! Damien has figured out that the Master of Lema and the Undying Prince have something to do with each other. Smart Damien! And second, I just think it's ironic that this time it's Tarrant who loses his companions when they separate.

Never fails, does it? Nothing good ever happens when you split up.

[trobadora]

Nothing good ever happens when you split up.

They don't have films on Erna, or I'd seriously point and laugh.