Paladin of Souls (World of the Five Gods, #2)

by Lois McMaster Bujold

Bought for $9.53 on 8/31/24 while reading a borrowed paperback of it, because it’s good enough (and cheap enough) to be worth the convenience of a permanent berth in my Kindle (CLP has no ebook edition of this, though they do have The Curse of Chalion, which I read in January 2024). Read both of these for the Minneapolis Sci-Fi (and sometimes Fantasy) Book Club, 1/16/24 and 9/3/24. See notes on the ASUS HDD in folder Literature\Speculative Bujold stuff, b. 1949. Query: when did she settle in Minneapolis, and why? What did her husband do? Why were they short if money? What happened to him after. 20-year marriage and 2 children? https://www.spectrumliteraryagency.com/loismcmasterbujold https://www.bookseriesinorder.com/lois-mcmaster-bujold/ Ista learns as she goes. This one is much more theologically sophisticated than the first one, especially plot-wise, unless I missed the details in the prior book because it was too confusing for me? Escape via pilgrimage. Very clever. And even better, accompanied by “a display of youth and health to make silks and jewels look like tawdry toys.” Elemental demons - acquisition & possession see ch. 6 pp. 91 ff.; ch. 12; Dreams, prophetic, warning, “deceptive to heed, but perilous to ignore.” Ghosts - ?? Does Ista acknowledge her gifts, or not? “These are not gifts to be lightly cast aside.” Not lightly, indeed. With great violence. How in five gods’ names had he come by this sudden delusion? p. 64. They cannot both be a delusion, and forcefully cast aside. A fascinating and well-wrought gay theme of love between Lord Arvol dy Lutez and Isra’s husband Ias. Nice similes, e.g., Her smile grew bitter as desert brine. The ghostly visions were fading like the lingering dazzlement in eyes that had stared too directly at the sun. Nice sentences, e.g., The morning and the road slowly fell behind them. / Failure wasn’t treason, even if the rubble it left in its wake was every bit as dire. / The sort of fellow whose funeral’s orations are all on the theme of Well, that’s a relief. She’s very good at describing strategic dilemmas and the arguments leading to a decision. Narrator’s device of ascribing an affective dimension to conversation adds to the content of the communication and cleverly informs the reader. E.g., “‘That was well thought of,’ Ista said, her voice warm with approval. Liss smiled gratefully.” And, “Ista managed not to grin, or at least not too broadly.” Questions: Why does Ista feel responsible for Avon’s death? Done Relationship between Arhys and Illvin? Done Who prays to the Bastard for help? Illvin? Vail - coin (tip), or gesture of thanks? Why had Illvin not married? What was “Roya Fonsa’s great work of sacrifice” p. 370. To die, like the previous Saint of Rauma? THE CRUX: “You are brilliant,” the Voice [of the Bastard] reassured her. [Ista:] “It is imperfect.” “So are all things trapped in time. You are brilliant, nonetheless. How fortunate for Us that We thirst for glorious souls rather than faultless ones, or We should be parched indeed, and most lonely in Our perfect righteousness.” Ch. 26 p. 450 Another crux, Ista and Goram: “But—your soul is your own, now, to make of what you will. We are all of us, every one, our own works; we present our souls to our Patrons at the ends of our lives as an artisan presents the works of his hands.” “If it is so, I am too marred, Royina.” “You are unfinished. They are discerning Patrons, but not, I think, impossible to please.” Ch. 28 p. 494-5. Facebook snippets of this: https://www.facebook.com/penn.hackney/posts/pfbid02VLGZW2A48pgJdtoxYYM5pWAdEgpbKEewUU2KnsmWYFZxmw65WwYHpsTiyiY9enELl A saint’s job: Ista spent the day until darkness fell being conducted by dy Cabon and Liss from graveside to graveside, reporting the fates of souls…. Every mourner seemed to have some story to tell her of their dead; not, she realized at length, in the expectation that she would do anything, except listen. Ch. 27 p. 483

Opening note at Contents: swipe left twice, or hit the chapter heading above.

Well, I am none of these things now. Who am I, when I am not surrounded by the walls of my life? When they have all fallen into dust and rubble?

she was still Lord dy Lutez’s murderer.

finely cut green robes of an acolyte of the Mother’s Order,

What might her pilgrimage be like if, instead of dragging a lot of tired guardians out on a road that suited their old bones so ill, she could travel with people who laughed? Young people, not brought low by old sin and loss? People who bounced?

five aims: service, supplication, gratitude, divination, and atonement.”

Apology to the gods. Dy Lutez,

a sacred well, very old. A minor holy place,

A holy well! https://www.heritagecouncil.ie/content/files/Holy-Wells-of-Ireland.pdf https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-northern-ireland-56216763 See “the sacred spring” and note, p. 46.

Haha good guess.

You can’t solve problems by running away from them, it was said,

But it wasn’t true. Some problems could only be solved by running away from them.

Mother’s green.

the Daughter’s Order,

She, too, had been too long abed in this castle of age and grievous memory.

I want nothing of the gods. I’ve had their gifts before.

Fourteen people and eighteen animals just to get her on the road.

Haha. Give me my scallop shell of quiet, My staff of faith to walk upon, My scrip of joy, immortal diet, My bottle of salvation, My gown of glory, hope’s true gage, And thus I’ll take my pilgrimage. Blood must be my body’s balmer, No other balm will there be given, Whilst my soul, like a white palmer, Travels to the land of heaven. [….] The Last Pilgrimage by Sir Walter Raleigh https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44940/the-passionate-mans-pilgrimage

the voices

the sacred spring,

A little lowly Hermitage it was, Downe in a dale, hard by a forests side, Far from resort of people, that did pas In travell to and froe: a little wyde° There was an holy Chappell edifyde, Wherein the Hermite dewly wont to say His holy things each morne and eventyde: Thereby a Christall streame did gently play, Which from a sacred fountaine welled forth alway. ~ Spenser, Faerie Queene, book 1 canto 1 stanza 35.

Haha

“You do your own, presumably. What do you do with it?” “Well, I put it in a braid.” “What else?” “I put it in two braids.”

Haha

Haha

Haha

the beauty of the place was surely excuse enough for its holy reputation.

Haha

Ordol

the Quadrene heresy

Ordol,

Haha

Haha

“And the Bastard grant us . . .”—

the one right word.

a little shamed by the excellence of his effort to have purloined the divine with false pretenses of a sham pilgrimage,

Question

the soft and somnolent air.

“A demon? You had a demon?” said Liss in a tone of wonder.

“Not I,” corrected the divine fastidiously. “It was trapped in a ferret. Fortunately, not a difficult animal to control. Compared to a wolf or a bull.” He grimaced. “Or a man, seeking to plunder the demon’s powers.”

an elemental escaped into the world of matter cannot exist without a being of matter to lend it intelligence and strength, for by its nature it cannot create such order for itself. It can only steal.

a demon can tempt a weaker person to sorcery with promises to extend life.”

Mine was the third such fugitive that has been captured this year in Baocia alone.”

Casilchas

Simile extended

Haha

The two officer-dedicats made a handsome pair,

a display of youth and health to make silks and jewels look like tawdry toys.

Simile - wonderful!

Ista felt herself as splendidly attended as ever she had been at the roya’s court.

the Bastard’s Tower freestanding behind His Mother’s court.

a small riot of brightly painted demons, saints, holy animals, and plants

A little elusive ease seemed to have crept in to Ista’s spirit—