We are reading “The Curse of Chalion”, some of us for the first time, others returning to an old friend. In order to maintain the unspoiled, fresh perspective of those new to the book, please avoid spoilers for all the chapters that haven’t been covered, as well as the rest of the Chalionverse books.

Chapter 1

We meet Cazaril as he is walking, hungry and cold, towards Valenda. A passing troop of soldiers ask him for directions; when the commander’s aide is ordered to give him a penny in thanks, he accidentally drops a gold coin instead, and is too proud to admit that it was unintentional. Rightly fearing that the soldier might attempt to get his coin back when his comrades can’t see, Cazaril takes shelter in an old mill, whose most interesting feature is a dead body, killed by attempting to invoke the gods for death magic. The corpse is well dressed, and Cazaril bargains with the farmer who owns the mill for the clothes in exchange for help laying the body out for burning; he also prays to the five gods for mercy on the dead man’s soul.

With gold in his purse and clothes that are not rags, Cazaril decides that he won’t beg for a minimum-wage job – in this medieval-ish economy, that would be food and board – at the castle in Valenda. Instead he will get a bath and a shave – and the dead man’s clothes washed before he puts them on – and ask his old employer, the Provincara, for a salaried position; something suitable for a nobleman, even if one down on his luck.

As he is bathing in preparation for this all-important interview, the bath attendant, seeing the whip scars on his back, asks if he was a deserter. Cazaril denies it; he has never deserted a post, although he has held some desperate ones. The bath owner then chucks him out, since the two crimes punished by whipping in Chalion are desertion from the army, and rape. Cazaril’s scars do not come from Chalion, but from an enemy state – “Roknari”, but that is an ethnicity and not a country – to the north where he has been a galley slave; but he is not able to explain this in time. Cazaril changes into his clean gentleman’s clothes, collecting the dead man’s ciphered book of spells – record of his experiments in death magic – on the way, and rises drastically in status, from ‘homeless’ to ‘college-educated professional’. Wanting the job interview over with, he sets out for the castle immediately.

Notable quote: “Mercy, High Ones. Not justice; please, not justice. We would all be fools to pray for justice.”

Chapter 2

Cazaril bluffs his way in to see the Provincara; while he waits, the royesse (that’s ‘princess’ in Ibran, the language spoken in Chalion) Iselle gallops into the courtyard with her attendant Betriz and her brother royse (prince) Teidez, all of whom will be important later. When he speaks to the Provincara (Countess, I think, although Duchess is also a possibility) we learn, firstly, that Cazaril’s title is ‘Castillar’, which seems to be roughly equivalent to Baron, although in his case there are no longer any lands to go with it; and secondly, how this medium-high noble came to be a penniless beggar clad in rags. Cazaril was commander of a fortress, Gotorget, in the recent war; he held it for nine months against an active siege, but then peace was signed and the fortress given up to the enemy, in exchange for “an extra three hundred thousand royals, in the treaty tent”. The garrison was ransomed, or at least the officers; except Cazaril, whose name was not on the list. He was marched north with the unransomed men – presumably all the rank and file – and sold for a galley slave. He was eventually rescued by “a warfleet of the roya of Ibra”, just after acquiring the whipping scars that caused him trouble in town. After recuperating for some time, he walked to Valenda, the only place he could think of where there might be a place for him; a journey of some weeks. The Provincara tells him she will think on what job she might find for him, but at least he can be her guest at dinner.

At dinner, Cazaril inquires whether the Dowager Royina (Queen) Ista, Iselle’s and Teidez’s mother, will be joining them; told that she is too ill, he wonders whether the illness, which has evidently driven her and her children away from the capital, might have any “unfortunate political elements”. He reflects briefly on the backstory of Ista’s marriage to the much older, now dead, Roya (King) Ias, during which we get the first mention of the name dy Lutez. Before we can get any details of how this dy Lutez, chancellor to the old Roya, came to be executed for treason, the last diner arrives, bearing the news that a Ser dy Naoza has died in the night – killed by death magic in revenge for killing a wool merchant’s only son in a duel. It is not clear whether duelling is legal: The wool merchant – whose clothes, Cazaril realises, he is currently wearing – first tried to take dy Naoza to court. Somehow, nobody was willing to testify against a famous killer; and the judge may or may not have been bribed. Hence, death magic.

Two quick reaction shots reveal the brainpower of Teidez and Iselle: Teidez points out that a skilled swordsman is much more of a loss to the royacy than “some moneygrubbing merchant” – apparently the lad has never heard of taxes or logistics – but is silenced when Cazaril observes that “a skilled soldier kills your enemies; a skilled duelist kills your allies”. Iselle, on the other hand, notes that if the judge, dy Vrese, had been honest, the merchant would have lived and even dy Naoza might have had time to repent before his execution, clean his soul, and avoid damnation; so why is he still a judge? The Provincara assures her that this wouldn’t be the case if she were in charge, but alas she is only the Dowager Provincara; her son holds the real power.

Notable quote: “I’m afraid my cook cannot offer you rat. They are not in season, in peaceful Valenda.”

Chapter 3

Cazaril awakes in a soft! Warm! Feather bed! He drowsily contemplates sleeping all day; but Betriz brings him clothes (and a sword) and tells him to join the celebration. It is the Daughter’s Day, the transition between winter and spring – presumably the spring equinox. Cazaril slips down to the castle chapel and meets Ista for the first time; she has apparently been praying all night and is now exhausted and grief-struck, though what she grieves for or prays for is not clear. Her mother the Provincara guides her gently away.

The celebration consists of a procession, during which an old man representing the Father, the god associated with winter, is driven away and replaced by a young woman – not a child, but not a mother yet – representing the Daughter, associated with spring. In this case the role of the Daughter is played by Iselle. This is not purely ceremonial: Iselle also sits and collects the gifts that the citizens bring the temple, to run it for the next quarter, and in return hands out a blessing and lights a candle from the first flame that she kindled – all other lights in the town having been extinguished the night before. It is not clear whether the gifts are truly voluntary, dictated by law, or something customary in between; the last person to give one is a beggar, who sings a hymn. Presumably it is not actually impossible to get hold of a new flame by other means. But this is clearly an important public ritual and much status is attached to it; so when Iselle retaliates against the possibly-corrupt judge, dy Vrese, by refusing his gift, it is a Big Deal.

There is, naturally, some discussion of this afterwards; Iselle has the moral high ground – what, you lecture me on the duties of a pious maiden and then don’t expect me to take it seriously? She is sent to her bedroom to think it over; if there’s any harsher penalty it doesn’t appear in the narrative, so perhaps the Provincara takes the duty-to-see-justice-is-done argument seriously. However that may be, in seeking Cazaril’s advice on what to do, she realises that an experienced diplomat, soldier, and courtier is just what Iselle needs to teach her how to accomplish her aims without disrupting Important Public Ceremonies; and offers Cazaril a job as her tutor. Cazaril, realising that it’s no sinecure, protests a bit, but eventually accepts.

Notable quote: “The Daughter of Spring accepts honest hearts’ offerings. She does not take bribes.”

Rolf’s comments

It is science fiction, not fantasy, that is most noted for showing (not telling about!) its world without dumping a bunch of text on the reader; fantasies are sometimes prone to the three-volume prologue starting with the creation squabbles of the gods. Here Bujold demonstrates that she’s still a master of the telling detail even though she’s using swords-and-horses flavouring. Picking some examples: Cazaril’s first thought on hearing hooves in the road behind him is “bandits”, and there is a conveniently abandoned mill for him to hide in; there have been some disorders in this area recently, then, the Provincara’s “peaceful Valenda” notwithstanding. Likewise his prayer deftly establishes how many gods there are, or rather how many Cazaril believes in, and gives us their names, without any need for a creation myth – and sets up the devastating line, “we should all be fools to pray for justice”. Then, we learn right away that death magic is a thing, that it involves “compelling the gods”, and that its customary price is the death of the caster; and that it’s commonly enough known that Cazaril (admittedly, a nobleman and thus probably well educated) is aware of these details. All while advancing the plot by giving Cazaril some respectable clothes to wear. This first chapter is a gem of tight and interlocked writing; every word counts.

Apart from that, these starting chapters firmly establish two characters: Cazaril and Iselle. Cazaril’s PTSD (he’s been at war for three years straight, most of it as a POW in a state that has, let’s say, not signed the Geneva conventions) is subtly handled, but he manages to break into tears twice in these three chapters. In spite of that he maneuvers his way in to see the Provincara – roughly equivalent to the Governor of a US state – mostly by performing the right class mannerisms; and manages to think directly enough to see a corpse’s clothes as a valuable resource, taboos be damned. A man who has eaten rat is, it’s true, perhaps not likely to be squeamish; and clothes are valuable in a medieval economy – I’ve seen the price of a suit of clothes put as high as a new car, which gives a slightly different perspective on the point. Even a squeamish modern reader could perhaps imagine putting taboo aside to acquire a dead man’s car, if the reader were literally homeless and penniless. Even so, it takes a certain detachment from convention to see through “those are his clothes” and reach “he’s got no more use for them, but I do”; we mostly just don’t think like that.

Iselle also shows herself willing to somewhat ignore convention, stepping out of the role she is expected to play and seizing agency for herself. Bringing the possibly-corrupt judge to justice is not her task, and she has no formal power to accomplish it, no armed men to order his arrest; but what of that? Instead she weaponises convention; when she turns down dy Vrese’s offering, the priest beside her finds it necessary to ask “does the goddess speak to you, in this?” The ritual role of the goddess, as played by Iselle, is to smile and say thanks for the gifts; Iselle displays a ruthless directness in realising that the apparently lame power of saying thank you can be turned on its head to become the devastating cut of no, thank you.

Jon’s comments

Hi all, I’m reading The Curse of Chalion for the first time, and documenting the thoughts I have as I read. This will include a brief summary of the key things I’ve learned/my general state of knowledge, questions I have that may get resolved in later chapters, and some wild speculation. Some of these points might turn out to be wrong, so please bear with me and enjoy the ride 🙂

What we’ve learned:

These chapters have been mainly about world-building. The world appears to be divided into a handful of country-like entities, including Chalion, Ibra, Brajar, and possibly wherever the Roknari are from. Chalion in turn is divided into different provinces, with Baocia of note, headed by the Provincara we meet. Some of these countries were at war with one another, or at least get into frequent battles.

There is a (global?) religion, which has five gods/goddesses in the Holy Family: the Father, Mother, Sister, Brother, and Bastard. Some of the deities may or may not be connected to different seasons, e.g. the Lady of Spring might be the Sister/Daughter, and the Father of Winter might be either the Bastard or Father. The religion in this world is a focal point of society, and furthermore appears to have some actual power, as evidenced by the fact that death magic exists.

We also get some background into the MC Cazaril, who used to be a noble, has traveled much of the world, and seems very knowledgeable in general. In particular, he might be the most rational character so far in this story, given by the advice he gave to the Provincara about Iselle (“you might draw her attention to how little firsthand evidence she jumped from“). It will be interesting to see if this is a trend that continues and he develops into a super-rational character that provide so much intrigue in other stories.

Questions/Things to look out for:

What is going to happen with Cazaril as Iselle’s secretary-tutor? (immediate plot point)

How did the dead man learn death magic? Is there a larger group teaching death magic to people? Some sort of bigger conspiracy?

Will Vrese come back at all throughout the rest of the story? I’m getting a Chekhov’s gun feel from him, but it might also be a point just to set up Iselle’s rebelliousness.

Wild Speculation:

Is it just me, or does death magic seem to be unreasonably powerful? Any magic that kills at significant range and isn’t easily traceable has loads of applications — given how many battles there have been going on, it seems like it’d be pretty straightforward to use death magic to assassinate an important leader, e.g. the Roya of Chalion. The fact that the caster also dies doesn’t seem like a huge limitation to me, since you can just get someone else to cast it for you in return for a large benefit, which any Sufficiently Evil Person could take huge advantage of. Here are a few scenarios:

A prisoner is being tortured and promised an end to it if they just practice a little death magic.

Someone’s family is being threatened, but the threat will go away if he/she does death magic for the government, and furthermore then his/her family is promised to live comfortably for the rest of their lives.

Very sick/elderly people are trained in death magic in order to allow them to do one more great thing in the remainder of their lives.

A cult is sufficiently brainwashed by a cause to the point where its members would be willing to give up their lives in order to kill a key enemy.

I doubt anyone is going to take huge advantage of this, and there might very well be some limitations to death magic that make it impossible, but this seems like something an evil person could easily abuse.

Mitchell’s comments

The setup for the novel seems pretty traditional. The author is doing a good job showing rather than telling, building our idea of the setting with scenes from daily life rather than via infodumps. That’s nice and all… but the setting is exactly the same as every other setting. We’re introduced to an order of knights that is aloof from peasants but not really evil, a character with a troubled past and a wide variety of skills that will make them capable of figuring out what to do in every situation that comes up, and an ominous form of death magic with great power and great cost. Through the next couple chapters we see the naive and forceful young woman, the matriarch balancing her power within her domain against a patriarchal system, and a little bit of depth and a softer side to the god of death. These tropes are a bit more modern than the rest we’ve seen of the setting but they’re still played very straight and common as anything.

All of this is well established, but it’s also fairly typical. I have yet to really distinguish this book from the countless others I’ve read. By the end of the third chapter we have some characters established with their relationships intact and a view of the world. As a first fantasy novel this would be a lovely setup. But as a 50th or 500th fantasy novel one could get the same amount of exposition in with five pages, letting the reader’s memories of other books fill in the rest of the details.

It’s probably better not to, but this is the part of the book that I’d sort of fly through on a reading that I wasn’t reporting on, and think not much of until much later on.