It might sound a little redundant, but I’m Jacob Topp-Mugglestone, and I’ll be running this column over the next few months. I’ll be taking a look at some of your favourite (or possibly least favourite, I’m omitting apathy) fantasy magic systems. Today, I’m starting with one of my personal favourites: the Skill from Robin Hobb’s Realm of the Elderlings series (comprising the Farseer, Liveship Traders, and Tawny Man trilogies, and the Rain Wild Chronicles duology). Before you read any further, though – as both the Farseer and Tawny Man trilogies explore this magic – there will inevitably be spoilers for the series up to Fool’s Fate. Because I’ll be looking at the Skill’s origin and eventual uses in the latter series, this will give away a number of the main dilemmas and mysteries, so I highly recommend you don’t read any further if you haven’t read at least the two trilogies mentioned! With that said, let’s move on to its role:

ROLE

In the Realm of the Elderlings, the Skill is one of the two main magic systems, out of a described ‘circle’ (which include magics that are never truly described or explored, such as hedge wizardry). The use of the Skill is a key component of the Farseer dynasty’s reign. In fact, before the series’ start, it was restricted to royalty alone by law, to keep control within the bloodline. This was perfectly feasible, as very few strong users existed, and reflects something that I think more fantasy should consider: what self-respecting monarch is really going to let the genre’s many all-powerful vigilante mages run around loose, as they seem to? (In fact, this compares to another favourite series of mine, Steven Erikson’s Malazan Book of the Fallen, in which many of the magic users themselves were purged before the series’ start).

IDENTITY

What is the Skill? At the series’ start, it’s simply the hereditary magic of the Farseer dynasty – and a select few others across the Six Duchies. Its central purpose at this point is communication: users experience a ‘Skill river’ in which they can sense others with the Skill, and the thoughts and emotions of non-users. Those with sufficiently strong Skill can use it to influence these to a degree. It’s an advantage that some fantasy authors neglect: in a pseudo-medieval world, the ability to instantly communicate is a huge strategic advantage, and the later novels of the Farseer trilogy portray this accordingly. However, it soon becomes clear that the Skill is more than this: it’s linked to the constructions of a vanished race, the Elderlings, and their cohabitation with the extinct dragons.

[Major spoilers ahead!]

The Skill imparts the ability to sense and add memories to the stone used by the Elderlings, even to the point of awakening life in creatures carved from it. The mysteries in the Skill are only slowly uncovered, and although writing ‘in the shadow of a vanished magical empire’ is popular, here the Elderlings have vanished for a reason, and the protagonists do in part work towards understanding this, rather than simply accepting that there are remnants of artefacts which can be cannibalised but never understood. This seems to be the case in a few series, such as Mark Charan Newton’s Nights of Villjamur – which I also appreciate – and it’s nice to see the opposite as well.

The Skill’s uses increase further in the Tawny Man trilogy: now, with the formation of a ‘Skill-coterie’ – a group of interdependent Skill users – healing is possible. Finally, the true, original purpose is revealed: as the vehicle of communication between Elderlings and dragons, a product of their partnership, and later adapted for more purposes, such as that of teleportation between Skill pillars.

Apart from this last, every one of the series’ revelations fit with the overall image and identity of the Skill, and to me, such ‘cannibalised’ magics – turned from their original purposes – should be used more. After all, you might be able to communicate with dragons, but they’re extinct. But if you can use it to confuse the navigators of your enemies’ ships, driving them onto rocks, instead… It’s also put to political ends, and works best in groups (coteries) of strong users. Since a lot of fantasy focuses on the ideal of independence; the character of ‘the loner’, this is relatively fresh: especially when the characters our protagonists are depending on might have strong Skill, but are so mismatched!

DANGERS AND COSTS

It’s quickly apparent in the novels that the Skill might offer strategic advantages, but it also has high costs. In fantasy, two ‘costs’ of magic are common: that it’s addictive and that it’s physically exhausting. I use ‘cost’ in inverted commas simply because it so rarely is. Although it might be mentioned, infrequently do protagonists experience the consequences of this. Hobb subverts this trend. From the beginning, the consequences of using the Skill are clear: there is always the temptation to Skill further, and resisting this urge results in migraines, only suppressed by a powerful stimulant with its own risks. Furthermore, it’s dangerous: something that other mental magics (including one of my favourites, the Warren of Mockra in The Malazan Book of the Fallen) rarely are. The stronger your Skill, the more you are affected by it – Fitz, for example, quickly succumbs to the influence of the road built from ‘memory stone’, almost walking from a cliff.

MYSTERY vs. RULES

Where does the Skill go on my imaginary scale of mysterious versus scientific magic systems? Well, I’d put it somewhere in the middle: although some of the reasons behind its existence are discovered, its mechanism is always unclear, and we never know how its uses are linked. Mental communication? Transmitting memories? Sure. Forcing the body to transfer its reserves for healing? Perhaps. Teleportation? Wait, what? It is explored, though, and its existence within the setting is quite logical and consistent in story, so I, for one, would place it just about the 8 mark (with 10 as totally rule-based and scientific, and 1 as mysterious LOTR-style magic). Hopefully we’ll see more exploration of the series’ magic in forthcoming books…

CONCLUSION

Overall, the Skill is one of the rarer mental magics of fantasy, and better, one that is explored throughout a series which is essentially character-driven: it’s always a little mysterious, but in the end, it forms one of the key solved dilemmas of the Elderlings’ existence. It also subverts the notions that magic always comes to the capable, prevalent in certain areas of fantasy: when a prince’s few strong coterie partners include a mentally impaired servant, his assistance becomes equally necessary!

Which magic system should I cover next month? Comment below with your suggestions.

Jacob Topp-Mugglestone is an SFF reader and reviewer over at Drying Ink. Though whim provides an essential part of his choices, his favourite authors include Steven Erikson, Kate Griffin, Robin Hobb, and Brandon Sanderson, which he reads while waiting for the rain to stop. Living in the UK as he does, this rarely happens, and his current TBR pile rarely lasts very long.