Malazan Ascendancy – Gardens of the Moon, Pale: Chapter 1 (part 1) Reread
Editors Note: I started chronicling my reread of Gardens of the Moon at another blog, but have decided to bring it over to and continue under the Gestalt Mash banner. For those who don’t know, I’m a huge fan of the series, as you may be able to tell via the interviews I’ve conducted with Steven Erikson and Ian Cameron Esslemont. I will be reposting the content from the previous site and then move on (I’m not even out of the first chapter yet!) to new material — basically it means that combined with my Playin’ with Ice and Fire duties, I’m halfway to ascension just by association!
So, now we are talking about the meeting between the fishergirl and two strangers that will have direct implications on several of the future books and be part of some ‘Gotism’ issues that fans talk about. For me personally, these are three of my favorite characters in the series, and if we are talking Ammanas and Cotillion, two of my favorite characters in all of speculative fiction. That’s right people, up there with Tyrion, Severian, the Kingslayer, Corwin, Caine, Jerry Cornelius (insert Jonathan Carroll character X) –- the upper echelon. We will have opportunities to get into the duo later in the re-read, throughout the series, but I’d prepare for advanced gushery anytime the duo shows up or are even mentioned, especially post-Gardens of Moon. Yes, there is distinction in their portrayal in later books, but it’s all good and (I think) easily written off.
* please note that this feature will subject you to massive spoilers from later in the book and BEYOND it. This is not a clean-slate walkthrough, but rather the experiences of a reader who has read all of the books published to date who may not at all be sympathetic to your own spoiler policy and/or preferences.
We jump seven years from the prologue and are immediately told that Laseen now reigns and that the “man on the street” knows how she assumed power. I guess one could assume that Rigga has knowledge others don’t, but it’s splitting hairs. Bottom line is that the emperor Whiskeyjack was speaking of in the prologue is now no longer the monarch of the Malazan Empire.
Laseen scatters bones with the best of them. Heh, she started with his, didn’t she, now?’ – Rigga
There’s a lot of little tidbits here that I appreciate. One is Rigga speaking of compensation she receives from the Empire for the loss of family members who were soldiers. In a lot of fantasy series this would be just lip service, an example of appropriate dialogue that really doesn’t matter beyond that usage, but as we know, in Erikson’s world the economy matters and plays a significant (Reaper’s Gale especially) role. Erikson uses an Empire as a principal vehicle of the series and doesn’t ignore economics, but more important and amazingly, it’s not a drag. While at times there is resolution that seems rather convenient, Erikson does not ignore two core concepts: people got to eat and where’s my check?
What you are going to see in the next part of the chapter illustrates this better, but there is an example in this initial bit that I just love. Later we will witness straight battlin‘, but here we get a good old fashioned fantasy trope that Erikson throws out right from jump. Prophecy. Isn’t this one of the 5-6 fantasy tropes that people make fun of and want you to cringe at? You know, all those people who want to hate on Glorfindel (for the real LotR heads)? Erikson doesn’t run from it at all. In fact, he goes old-school to the core, check the list:
- uttered by old person
- among a character’s last words before death
- said to younger, innocent character about to traverse a path (right on the side of a road for that matter)
The strength of Erikson is that he gives people what they want without compromise. He doesn’t think books with mage duels, prophecies, and dragons have to hide if written by someone who is writing a book utilizing elements, not rehashing them. They are in his story, they are not the story. People want to read about that shit, they just don’t want it to come with the assumption that they are also not demanding readers. The prophecy here is unceremonious; its source snuffed and left as if trash on the roadside. Even a God says this of her (the source–Rigga) in conclusion:
A minor talent, long since dried up of the Gift
The gods we meet here – Ammanas and Cotillion – seem a bit more primal than we see them later. Perhaps it can be explained away by relative youth, but there is an old-school vengefulness to them that seems to have tempered in later books. I tend to like the transition and think that we see the the first inkling of it here in a moment that has always felt under appreciated to me (perhaps because it is so obvious). When the two gods take the fishergirl, the right to name her is claimed by Cotillion. The name (we learn later) is simple, but for me has always been resoundingly powerful and speaks volumes (love or hate) of the Cotillion we in fact see later in the series. Consider the name later. It is a word that doesn’t come easy to a lot of people, even when it is truly what they feel and know it should be said.
The question of motivation, however, is admittedly an oddity:
True vengeance needs the slow, careful stalking of the victim. Have you forgotten the pain she once delivered us? Laseen’s back is against the wall already. She might fall without our help. Where would be the satisfaction in that?’
Cotillion’s response was cool and dry. ‘You’ve always underestimated the Empress. Hence our present circumstances … No.’ He gestured at the fishergirl. ‘We’ll need this one. Laseen’s raised the ire of Moon’s Spawn, and that’s a hornet’s nest if ever there was one. The timing is perfect.’
Reading on, I’ve never quite bought this initiative as an attack on Lassen. It just doesn’t seem to mesh with truths we are later told and honestly, even if taken at face value the particular motivation behind this plan seems at the very least going about in a supremely roundabout manner, and at best can be filed under never fully being able to understand the layers (which admittedly fit rather nicely into who they are) and depths that this duo works in.
You’ll see this more just around the corner, but what I love here is that you begin reading Gardens of the Moon as a story already in motion, as if your own participation isn’t incredibly relevant to the proceedings. You’re a bit in the way, and it leaves you with no choice every choice. You can learn or be ignorant, but will do so on the fly or you will be left behind. As a reader you take some solace in that this same notion applies to each and every character you meet in this series.
While a lot of fantasy, particularly epic fantasy, tends to designate a special role for the the reader, setting up this idea of you having arrived just in time (be it an end of an age, era or even the aforementioned prophecy), Erikson’s world seemingly doesn’t care. The most it has time to offer, is to tell you not to buckle up and enjoy the ride ahead. Instead, this is a book that has you watching your back. As the fishergirl and Rigga learned, there are no sidelines here to stand safely aside on.
There is also bravado. We will get to the details in the very near future, but the epigraph includes this nugget:
In the Year of Burn’s Sleep 1163, the Siege of Pale ended with a now legendary sorcerous conflagration …
It’s an event that is still the source of several questions for fandom, but let’s forget that for now. That’s a pompous set-up, and while a Fantasy fan all my life, the number of truly epic sorcery battles (in telling) I can recall numbers zero. Or, they are now simply so inadequate that hindsight has worked its magic on me. Mage duels/battles in fantasy are – as far as I’m concerned – pre & post Pale. Erikson pays off on promises early. He does so spectacularly and we will talk about it very soon!
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