Coldfire re-read: Crown of Shadows - chapters 39 and 40

[carmentalis.livejournal.com]

We continue to uphold honoured traditions and delay the posts. :-)

Today it's time for Andrys to grow a spine, for Narilka to kick ass, and for Gerald to lose his head.


Chapter 39
Andrys figures out that he's on his own, and that he'd better start using his head if he wants to get out of this whole mess alive. Without a pet demon and fae support to help him along, crusading turns out to be not a lot of fun. At the same time, Narilka finds herself victim to the old cliché of the hero's girlfriend being held hostage. Contrary to the way it normally goes - or maybe because she doubts Andrys' hero potential - she takes matters into her own hands and shows amazing ninja skills. Amoril, at the receiving end of those skills, doesn't come out of it in one piece.

Chapter 40
At the same time, Gerald and Damien continue their merry hike through the tunnel and finally get to Gerald's library, which is definitely not the way he left it. Their efforts to sort through the mess are interrupted by Andrys, who - perhaps understandably - isn't exactly overjoyed to meet the Hunter. In the resulting... discussion, Damien gets kicked out, which means Gerald has no-one left to get him out of trouble. It doesn't end well.




Quotes

• More than half the horses had been lost in that battle, either killed or maimed or run off in terror. The tethers of those that fled had been burned through in some cases, cut through cleanly in others, as if somehow their fear had managed an equine Working and freed them. More likely it was the fears of their riders which had done exactly that.



• Though the Hunter was no longer actively mated to the Forest, yet his essence still permeated it, and if the younger Tarrant relaxed his guard even for an instant, the chill power of that corrupt soul would come pouring into him, drowning out the warmth of his living spirit and replacing it with something in its own dark image.



• Did he fear that here, in the heart of the Hunter's realm, Andrys could tap into his ancestor's power? Did he imagine that open battle might tip the scale and turn Andrys into an enemy he couldn't defeat?



• Undead, unclean, Gerald Tarrant's essence coursed through his blood in a flood tide, tearing loose the last fragile moorings of his human identity. Spreading through his flesh like a poison, remaking every organ, every cell, wrapping icy fingers about his soul and squeezing, squeezing-
  With a gasp he opened his eyes. The ground was alive with silver light. The moonlight shivered with music. The walls of the castle glowed with a power that was centuries in the making, his to use at will. But
  he didn't need it. It was enough that the essence of Gerald Tarrant looked out through his eyes; it was enough that the man's power and ruthless confidence echoed in his voice.



• "The Hunter's here," he whispered.



• Yet despite the flush which bore witness to painful exertion, and the increasing stiffness of his stride, Tarrant refused to slow down for any reason. That was the old Hunter, Damien knew. He only hoped the new one was up to past standards.



• "So we've got a little time to pace ourselves. We can spare a few minutes to rest. Just long enough to get a second wind." And he added dryly, "Living people do that kind of thing, you know."



• "Those books are a gateway to the future," he said sharply. "A dictionary of translation between our own species and that of the Iezu's maker, which will allow us take a step our Terran ancestors never even dreamed of. And if you're correct about the changes in the fae ... if, in fact, humans will not be able to Work to gain knowledge ... then that gateway might never be accessible again. Ever. If we let those books be destroyed now, our descendants will be doomed to centuries of trial-and-error guesswork. And who can tell how much that will net them? The knowledge we sacrifice today may be lost forever-"



• "Do I want to know what this place is?"
  "No," Tarrant stared at the mess on the table for a few seconds, his eyes narrowed to slits. God alone knew what he was thinking. "Suffice it to say that I kept it somewhat cleaner."



• He could hear the Hunter's indrawn breath as he gazed upon the wreckage of his storehouse of knowledge, and he sensed that in some bizarre way this pained him more than Amoril's other betrayals, or even the loss of the Forest itself.
  You believed that knowledge like this would be sacred, he thought. You thought that even the Evil One, being man-made, would respect its value. He shook his head sadly. Welcome to the real world, Gerald.



• "You bound yourself to him," Gerald pressed. "Didn't you? What did he promise you? Forgetfulness? Purging? An orgy of vengeance?" He paused. "Did he tell you what the cost of that would be? Did he tell you that you would lose your soul if you served him?"



• "He lived for pain and pain alone. Not only mine, but yours. Killing me wouldn't be enough for him, not unless I knew in my last dying moment that he had also destroyed those things I valued most. The Forest. The Church. And now you."



• "Do you know what will happen if you kill me now? That spark of Calesta's hate which lies like a dormant seed within you will take root and grow, until it strangles all within you that is still human. That's his vengeance, Andrys Tarrant. Not your paltry campaign, not even the rigors of Hell itself, but the knowledge that as you pull that trigger, you commit yourself to his world, in which the only joy is suffering."



• He mourned. God would condemn him for it, perhaps, but he mourned. The man who had once been called Prophet deserved that much, surely.

Thoughts

• Can animals Work? The fae influences evolution - there was that example about giraffes getting longer necks within a generation if necessary - but can it be conscious Working, like the possible case with the horses getting away?



• I'm finding it hard to believe that Tarrant would let his dungeons grow mouldy and slimy. (I'm sure he has some, to keep up appearances, but they'd be spotless, and possibly contain soap and fresh towels.) Standards are clearly slipping in his absence.



• This is the chapter where I find Andrys actually interesting. He finally gets over the whining and self-pity, figures out that he's on his own, and starts to think. That he's pragmatic enough to grab the Hunter's power as a tool for himself doesn't hurt either, as far as me respecting him more as a character is concerned.



• Ninja Narilka!



• The whole human/iezu dictionary is giving me trouble. Why do they actually need Gerald's research notes? Now that the Iezu know what they are and what the Mother wants, wouldn't they cooperate anyway? So why not do something radical and talk to them?



• "And you'd be willing to risk death for that?" he demanded. "For knowledge?"
  "I did once before," he pointed out. "Perhaps the second time is easier." <3



• When they come into the devastated study with all its ruined books, it's the one moment in the trilogy where I feel Tarrant could really have used a hug.



• The end of this chapter was the point when I decided I'd have to write fix-it fic. It's just wrong to kill off Gerald. It makes no sense, plot-wise, after that first resurrection. I'm also not quite sure what this is supposed to accomplish for the story as a whole. He's dead, but not really dead after all, and it doesn't do anything for Andrys' personal demons either. This doesn't resolve anything. And if Friedman had been convinced it did, then surely she'd have left him dead for good. But she's tried twice, and resurrected him each time.

We'll have a look back at the last chapters next time, and then tackle the final part of the book - more resurrections to come!