[Blog-o-note: So there have been a lot of delays lately because of my back. That’s now fixed, but tomorrow I’m going on an adventure to Poland and when I get back it’s exam time, so. More delays! By the end of January everything should be back to normal again, I swear]
Just like our old pal Rothfuss, Branderson seems to be having some real trouble coming up with chapter names. This is perhaps an argument against using them for fantasy epics that are a million pages long.
Kaladin is back to moping at the bridge-carrier camp.
There were no beds, just one thin blanket per bridgeman. One had to choose whether to use it for cushioning or warmth. You could freeze or you could ache.
This whole set-up with the bridge crews only makes sense if you assume their only purpose is to be miserable, but that’s not the case. They have a vitally important function. You’d think it would be desirable to make sure they’re in good shape and that they don’t drop like flies. This camp is in the middle of nowhere and it took Kaladin’s party weeks and weeks to get there, there’s no way they could keep replacing people at the rate we’ve been told they get killed off. And then what would happen? The soldiers would have to carry the bridges. That would be a really good incentive to try to keep them alive.
Kaladin goes for a sad-walk and encounters Gaz.
Ah. Gaz had fastened a small metal basket on the leeward wall of one of the barracks, and a soft glowing light came from within. He left his spheres out in the storm, then had come out early to retrieve them.
I am now interpreting “spheres” as a euphemism for testicles, and I suggest you all do so as well.
Kaladin had known more than one man who had been wounded sneaking around during full storm, looking for spheres.
Maybe this is an argument against using your currency as a lighting source. How long do you think public lighting would last if coins came spilling out when you knocked down a lamp-post?
There were safer ways to infuse spheres. Moneychangers would exchange dun spheres for infused ones, or you could pay them to infuse yours in one of their safely guarded nests.
I must reiterate that this is part of the book, and not something I copy-pasted from a videogame walkthrough.
Kaladin decides to go throw himself off a cliff. The bridge carriers are in no way prevented from doing this- there’s even “deference payed to men who chose that path”- which also makes no sense since that would just increase the number you have to replace.
Kaladin sits on the edge of the cliff and looks back over his life, regretting….. something, I don’t know. This section seems to have been written by someone who didn’t read the earlier chapters.
He froze at the soft but piercing voice. A translucent form bobbed in the air, approaching through the weakening rain.
Oh god it’s Syl
Quick Kaladin jump
Syl gives him a blackbane leaf, which is the poison leaf he kept hidden back in the slave cages until he accidentally crushed them.
“They would have died more quickly without you. You made it so they had a family in the army. I remember their gratitude. It’s what drew me in the first place. You helped them.”
“No,” he said, clutching the blackbane in his fingers. “Everything I touch withers and dies.”
There are ways to successfully portray extreme emotional turmoil and self-loathing. This is not one of those ways.
Anyway, Syl manages to convince him to give the whole “not dying” thing one more try. Kaladin tosses the leaf down the chasm and strides back to camp. He tackles Gaz to the ground and starts choking him.
“The world just changed, Gaz,” Kaladin said, leaning in close. “I died down at that chasm. Now you’ve got my vengeful spirit to deal with.”
God damn, finally. This is more like it.
Kaladin tells Gaz to make him bridgeleader and says he’ll give him part of his meager wages to stay out of his way.
Kaladin Stormblessed was dead, but Kaladin Bridgeman was of the same blood. A descendant with potential.
Sounds like Kaladin has been playing some Rogue Legacy.
Now that he’s become a Man of The People Kaladin strides forth some more until he reaches the Bridge Four barracks and introduces himself as the new leader. He gets all of their names, because Good Leaders remember people’s names.
He would find a way to protect them.
This better actually be genuine and not an excuse for more CRAWWWWWLING IN MY HIGHSTOOOOOOORM
THE END OF
What is the deal with fantasy authors obsessively sub-dividing their stories? Do they think it makes them seem distinguished or something? This isn’t the Bible you’re writing, Branderson.
So I was going to do the next chapter but it’s the first of three “interludes”, itself one of an unetermined number of interlude sections according to the chapter headings, two of which deal with characters we’ve never seen before and I don’t think I can handle more of this shit right now.