In a world of thirteen human races, from the common Firstbloods through the bronze-scaled Jasuru and enigmatic Drowned and more, unrest is normal. There's
always a crown in contention or a trade route threatened or a treaty violated. But the latest squabblings over the future of the Severed Throne at the heart
of Antea may inadvertently be the trigger of an age-ending event, the return of a goddess who may be older than the long-extinct dragons themselves. All it
will take is the right people in the right places... or the wrong people in the wrong places.
Half-Cinnae girl Cithrin was raised by bankers after her parents died, learning the trade inside and out, but she's never been entrusted with any business -
until the bank's wealth needs to be smuggled out of the ancient city of Vanai before foreign troops invade, and Cithrin's the only one available for the job.
She's determined to earn the trust of the man she's come to see as her father, but the journey will bring dangers she could never have anticipated... and
opportunities beyond her dreams.
Captain Marcus Wester was once a legend on the battlefield, but now manages a small, nondescript group of mercenaries on minor contracts. At least, he used
to, until his underlings were locked up, set to be forced into defending a city doomed to fall. Unless Marcus and his second, the Treglu priest-turned-soldier
Yardem, want the same fate, he needs bodies to fill out his contract - and a chance encounter with a troupe of actors just may offer the answer. Only what
started as a simple job guarding a small caravan quickly becomes much more complicated, and one of the actors is more than he first appears.
Dawson Kalliam used to be best friends with King Simeon of the Severed Throne, but relations have grown strained of late. The world is changing in ways Dawson
can't accept, and new forces are rising in the courts - forces that may spell the doom of Simeon and his young heir. With his influence fading, he must take
desperate measures - but even those may not be enough to save Antea from war.
Minor lordling Geder Palliako never expected to amount to much, and never really cared. So long as he can chase ideas through old books, he's content enough...
but he has obligations to his betters, which send him out on campaign as the laughingstock of his peers. Tricked, humiliated, reminded at every turn of his
inadequacies, he will soon find himself utterly destroyed by machinations he doesn't understand - or remade into an unpredictable new power who might shake
the very world to its foundations.
Review
There's something decadently comforting about a good epic fantasy: the feeling of falling into a bright new world full of magic and wonder and danger,
immersing in larger-than-life characters and events where good still has an outside chance of triumphing ultimately over evil (unlike reality, too often.)
They're the warm-blanket-and-hot-cocoa-by-the-fire equivalent of stories, a sensory indulgence to be savored. I've been in a mood for that comfort, and this
book has been lurking in my reading pile for a while.
Did it give me that nice, warm feeling?
Yes and no.
On the plus side, Abraham presents some nice, shiny epic fantasy ideas, both familiar (myriad cities and kingdoms and races, deep history riddled with
mysteries, royal courts split by infighting factions under a weakening king, hints of magic and danger) and unique (a goddess whose worshipers have literal
spiders in their blood, a world and races engineered by extinct dragons.) He also presents the sort of characters that don't often get the limelight in epics,
notably a banker and an awkwardly bookish noble ill at ease with courtly intrigues (at least, one who does not suddenly emerge as a savvy player in games -
martial or otherwise - after a few missteps, or becomes a disposable subplot.) Battles exist on the fringes, but aren't the main story drivers.
On the minus side... I never came to truly enjoy spending time with the characters, and thus had a somewhat dimmed view of the wider world they inhabited.
Cithrin's banking angle may be different, but underneath that she's yet another underage girl who often needs men to get her out of self-inflicted problems.
Marcus is forever rescuing her from herself, with a growing sense of attachment that can't seem to decide if it's fatherly or... not fatherly, made even more
uncomfortable by Cithrin's younger-than-advertised appearance that heightens the existing age and experience gap between them. (Am I the only one tired of that
little trope/cliche?) And the nobles were just plain unpleasant to be around more often than not; while I understood where they were coming from (in their
in-world contexts), I didn't particularly enjoy my time with them. Prologue aside, the story also takes its own sweet time baiting the hook for the greater
series arc, the threat that will ultimately (in theory) drive the narrative on a course that only multiple books can contain.
After finishing, I was left with distinctly mixed feelings. Parts of The Dragon's Path definitely intrigued, but I don't foresee myself returning to
this series, save finding sequels at steep, steep discounts - and a book that fails to hook me into a sequel is a book that has, on some level, failed, in my
opinion. There are other epic fantasies waiting in the pile, other chances to wrap myself in their familiar comforts and unfamiliar worlds; I'm not sure if I
need to come back to this one.
Kithamar: a sprawling city, straddling the Khohen river and encompassing numerous districts and dialects and deities, steeped in centuries of conflicts
and subtle magics. The crowning of a new prince should be a day of hope and glory... but Byrn a Sal ruled for but a single ill-omened year. From the moment
of his coronation, he was doomed - by conspirators, by secrets, perhaps by the very city he was supposed to rule.
Alys grew up in the slums of Longhill with her brother Darro, part of the tight-knit Inlisc community that has long been second-class citizens on what,
many generations ago, used to be their land before the warmongering Hansch arrived. Like many of her kin, she gets by on odd jobs and thieving - until her
brother turns up dead in the river, killed by a scheme he never told her about. Alys sets out to find out what he was up to, what job he was pulling without
her, and soon finds herself up to her neck - and over her head - in the machinations of the Daris Brotherhood and their plot against the crown.
Sammish has been loyal to Alys since before she can remember, but has never been able to voice her feelings. She just follows, invisible as a shadow, and does
whatever she can to help her. But now Alys doesn't seem to need her anymore - and, blinded by grief over her brother, can't see the danger she's flirting with,
following Darro's footsteps to the Brotherhood's door. Sammish sets out on her own path, one that proves to be no less dangerous... and which will set her
against the young woman she loves.
Review
Many epic fantasies sprawl across their maps, long journeys to exotic lands, encountering dozens of characters, with stakes high as the world itself.
Age of Ash takes place entirely within the walls of Kithamar, focusing on a few key players on which the fate of the city crown rests, but feels
as rich in history and detail as any epic.
True to what I've read of Abraham so far (in his solo works and as half of "James S. A. Corey"), this is a book written to a long arc and without reliance
on flashy battles or breakneck chases. It builds in layers of intrigue and mystery, developing characters and the city, always with enough mystery to keep
the reader turning pages. It starts with Byrn's funeral procession through Kithamar, weaving in hints and hooks, then travels back one year to the prince's
coronation and how Alys and Sammish begin their unanticipated collision course with some of the deepest, darkest secrets and plots in Kithamar. There is
magic at work, here, but it is, for the most part, a subtle thing, especially at first, whispers and shades and hints that become more obvious (and
dangerous) as the tale goes. Alys's grief over Darro's murder first drives her to seek vengeance, then compels her to try to become him and finish what he
started, keeping him alive the only way she knows how. Sammish, from the outside, sees what Alys is blind to, but by asking questions Alys doesn't want to
ask a wedge begins to form between them. Thus, Sammish - the girl who quite literally is never noticed, a talent that lends itself well to thievery - finds
herself somewhere altogether different. Both encounter mysteries and even gods (or forces akin to gods), but also must ultimately decide, as they stand
amid the swirling forces that could reshape the city, just who they really are and what they really stand for, and what future they really want to see.
This is a story that, though slower paced, contains little to no deadweight, developing its characters and its setting with impressive depth and complexity
(though with a very slight over-reliance on a few descriptors; I lost track of how often light was described as "milky" or similar terms, for instance).
Occasionally the slowness bogs down into a true meander, and a few threads seemed forgotten or distracting by the end, but it makes up for that through
worldbuilding and character development. It earned the extra half-star by being the first book in ages that grabbed me for eighty solid pages the first
time I picked it up, and for avoiding the obvious paths and pitfalls it could've so easy fallen into. (And, dang it, I was just in the mood for a nice,
rich, slow-burn tale and it delivered.) Though it's the first in a trilogy, it works fairly well as a standalone. I will be looking out for the second
installment.
Since its founding, the city of Kithamar has been a city of struggles and contrasts, from the first violent clashes of invading Hansch against
indigenous Inlisc to the friction of rival brotherhoods and religions and families and classes in its many sprawling districts. It is the duty of
the prince to keep Kithamar together and help the city thrive despite its many differences and disagreements... but Byrn a Sal only reigned for a
single year. Did he die by accident, by traitors in the palace, by some foreign plot, or by the very living thread of city itself?
Elaine a Sal has lived a life of privilege... and boredom. Her father may be next in line for the Kithamar crown, and herself his most likely
successor, but she can't help feeling separated from the city she is expected to rule someday. As the current prince's death grows more imminent,
she only feels the walls growing thicker. Then her cousin Theddan, notorious for flouting convention and pesky social rules, talks Elaine into
sneaking out to a riverside party... and her whole world is turned upside down. When the bluecloak city guards raid the boathouse, Elaine dives
into the river to escape capture (and embarrassment for her father) - and finds a stranger who helps her slip away, a handsome and noble-hearted
young man far out of her social class but who unexpectedly captures her attention, and her heart. She knew she should forget all about one
indiscretion, that the duties to family and city will always supersede personal happiness, but she can't help thinking of him. And when her
father's rise to Palace Hill brings troubling hints that all is not well with the crown or the city, she realizes she can trust nobody - nobody
except perhaps one handsome and noble-hearted young man from across the river...
Garreth Left's life has been proscribed by family "policy" since before he can remember. The way his mother is always away traveling while his
father manages the family trading business at home: policy. The fact that he's no longer a child and yet is still in the dark about so much of
the family business despite being the eldest son: policy. Now policy will dictate his marriage to a stranger, an Inlisc woman from a trading
clan beyond Kithamar, a move that may restore House Left to its former fortune and glory (and provide a loophole through which to run an
off-season caravan and undercut their rivals). Worse, his childhood best friends are all drifting away into their own lives. Three of them
chose the blue cloaks of the city guard over lesser (or no) status roles in their own trader families, and though Garreth still spends time with
them, he can feel the bonds fraying. He is with them one night, watching as they raid an unlawful party in a boathouse, when he sees a young
woman climb out of the river and hide from the guards... and, rather than turn her in to his friends, he feels moved to help her - "help" that
ends in his bedroom, though mutual consent. He never even asks her name, but from that moment on, his entire life tips askew. Suddenly, "policy"
is no longer enough to compel him to accept a loveless marriage and a future dictated by others. He takes his first steps toward a life of his
own, beyond the reach of his father and family policy. Little does he suspect just how far those steps will take him - and how the very fate of
Kithamar might hang in the balance.
Review
The first volume in the Kithamar trilogy was an unexpected delight, an epic fantasy compressed into the scope of one turbulent year and one
fractured city, focused on a relatively small cast of players and yet with all the richness and worldbuilding and character growth of a larger,
sprawling tale. The second volume follows the same year, but switches the focus to other characters, the star-crossed pair of Garreth and Elaine
who were part of events in Age of Ash but not the main focus. It could easily have been a simple retread, but Abraham turns it into a
fresh and interesting take that nevertheless slots seamlessly into the larger arc, which is also a different tale when viewed from another
angle.
The original story's characters viewed the future prince Elaine a Sal ("prince" being a gender-neutral title in this world) as a sheltered,
naïve girl with a puppy-love crush on a stranger beneath her station. While Elaine is undoubtedly sheltered, she's not so naïve that
she doesn't realize it. Unlike her cousin Theddan, though, she has trouble pushing back too hard against rules and conventions, in no small
part because of her deep love for her father; the thought of embarrassing him as Theddan embarrasses her family on an almost nightly basis is
enough to keep her safely at home after dark. At last, when the princess feels the future closing in like a noose around her neck, she decides
on one (likely first and last) walk on the wild side, reassured when her cousin insists she can get them in and out of the party without a
problem, as she's done similar herself many times. Of course, that sort of confidence is catnip for fate; while Elaine manages to escape the
bluecloaks, Theddan is finally caught in one transgression too many... but that is not the end of Theddan's involvement (or character growth),
as she remains an ally to Elaine even in the darkest times. Elaine also finds herself drawn to the strange young man by the river who, instead
of turning her over or being cruel, offers her help and respect. Their indiscretion in the bedroom is entirely consensual on both sides, both
knowing that their families and stations and other obligations mean that their relationship has no future - or, at least, that's what they
expect. But it changes everything for both of them. Elaine cannot forget him, or the taste of freedom he offered, the sense of someone seeing
her as her and not as the daughter of her father, the princess, a potential playing piece in the eternal game of politics and personal
ambition. When her father and his chief advisor start acting very strangely after his ascent to the throne, she realizes that he can be more
than a one-off memory, but someone beyond the games of Palace Hill whom she can trust to be a neutral party to hear her out. Far from being the
childish socialite glimpsed in the first book, she comes across as a reasonably competent young woman stuck a situation far beyond her control,
doing her best to protect her loved ones.
Garreth, for his part, is as trapped as any noble by his merchant family's expectations. He's always a son of House Left first, and his own
self second (or not at all). Even when his father brings a total stranger to their home and announces his plans for the marriage that will yoke
Garreth for the rest of his days, he doesn't once think that he'll upset the rigid bindings of "policy" to refuse... until that night by the
river. Suddenly, the thought of marriage to a woman who clearly doesn't care a speck about him seems intolerable. He walks away, thinking to
join his friends with the bluecloaks. While he does okay in his new job, he never quite recaptures the camaraderie and old bond he once had
with his friends, never truly settles in. And when he finally sees Elaine again and realizes who she is, things only get more complicated.
Despite their best intentions, Garreth and Elaine's one-night stand has created something stronger, something they'll both end up relying on
more and more as the true rot at the heart of Kithamar becomes more apparent. While Alys and Sammish (from Age of Ash) play a pivotal
role in the struggle against that rot, Elaine and Garreth also have a very important role to play, one that's in no way less than that of the
Inlisc thief and her friend.
As before, there are subtle magics at work in the city streets, but this time the role of the gods is more apparent from earlier on, or so it
seemed to me (though perhaps it was because I knew to look for it). This book also delves more into just what the gods are and how they came
to be, with some interesting takes on familiar ideas. Coming from a more educated background, Elaine learns more about the history and
philosophy of the city's deities, and makes the discovery of their existence in a different way, while Garreth has his own journey to the
secrets of Kithamar.
Many authors might have chosen to weave the tales of Alys and Sammish from the first volume along with Garreth and Elaine, as their stories
cover the same timespan and ultimately tie into the same greater arc. By separating out characters into their own books, Abraham gives them
breathing room, freeing them from overwhelming each other. As in any city, there are many individual lives threading through the streets,
lives which may braid together with others or with the greater tale of the population but which are also separate entities, no less rich for
being their own. This storytelling approach also lends greater weight and scale to Kithamar itself, a city too large and too complex to
belong to any small handful of people. Even places and people familiar from the first volume look entirely different here. I'm already
looking forward to the third and final installment.
Long, long ago, the grand Empire ruled with the force of the andats: abstract concepts, given tangible form and enslaved by men known as poets, that
could turn solid stone soft as butter or leave lands barren as sand or perform other world-changing feats with a single thought. But cataclysmic
infighting led to collapse and swathes of desolation that still mark the world. Today’s Khaiem are but a shadow of their former majesty, but still hold
the increasingly-elusive andat in thrall, fueling industry and acting as deterrent even to the warlike Galts... but, just as the Empire itself
succumbed, so, too, will the cities of the Khaiem, because, for all the powers of the andats, the Khaiem and their subjects are still blindly, fallibly
human.
This was originally published in four volumes: A Shadow in Summer: As a boy, Khai Machi’s youngest son Otah was sent to the school of the Dai-Kvo, master poet. If Otah endures the brutal
education, he will become a poet and someday have the honor and burden of binding an andat. If he fails, he will be branded and go forth to find his way
in the world, no longer a contender for his father’s throne and thus spared the traditional fratricidal violence of succession. But Otah does the
unthinkable: disgusted by the horrible things done to him, and which he is compelled to do to others, in the Dai-Kvo's service, he walks away, refusing
both the brand and the poet’s robes. Years later, his life as an anonymous indentured laborer in the great port city of Saraykeht is disrupted when a
foreign house plots against the local Khai’s poet and the andat known as Seedless. What initially seems a bid to disrupt Saraykeht’s dominance of the
lucrative cotton industry has ramifications that could lead to the fall of all Khaiem and the last vestiges of the lost Empire. A Betrayal in Winter: As the aging Khai Machi lays dying, his sons prepare to murder each other. The last one standing will inherit the
black throne, a tradition dating back to the Empire. But from the start, someone seems to be playing against even the minimal rules of these violent
transitions... and the obvious culprit to blame is Machi’s outcast fourth son, who already flouted all respect for tradition: Otah. Though he has been
hiding under an assumed name, entirely uninterested in ruling anything, he realizes he must return to the home city that cast him out, lest he endanger
those he loves most when they hunt him down for crimes he didn't commit. Returning will almost certainly mean his death, especially when the only man who
believes him innocent of the charges against him is a failed poet in poor standing whom he last saw in the final golden days of Saraykeht when both were
in love with the same woman: Maati. An Autumn War: Now Khai of the city of Machi, Otah is determined not to follow the bloody traditions that led to the slaughter of the rest
of his family... a determination that sets him at odds with pretty much every ally and even his own subjects. After all, the cities of the Khaiem are
built on foundations of tradition as much as stone. But a greater threat looms on the horizon: Galt has not ceased its ambition to strip the Khaiem of
their powerful and dangerous andat (and, not incidentally, help themselves to the vast wealth of their otherwise-defenseless treasuries). And, thanks to
an ambitious and relentless scholar-turned-general, they stand poised to do just that. The Price of Spring: Otah Machi, the boy who once turned his back on the poets and his heritage, is now the Emperor, but of a doomed
people. Poet Maati’s failed attempt to bind a new andat left every girl and woman in his realm barren... and every boy and man of the invading Galtic
nation sterile. To save both nations, he proposes an exchange, even offering his only son Darat to a Galtic high councilor’s daughter. But the disgraced
Maati still yearns to make amends for his errors and reclaim the independence and glory of the Khaiem. He has, in defiance of Otah and every tradition
dating back to the first Empire, begun training girls and women in the ways of the poets, in the hopes that one of them will succeed where he failed.
His efforts could destroy the fragile future Otah is trying to build, just as Otah's own ambitions risk alienating those closest to him.
Review
If I’m being honest, I probably would’ve stopped reading after the first volume had I encountered these titles individually. While the concepts were
interesting and the setting well-described and -thought out, I didn’t really like anyone in it, and didn’t care about the fates of them or their various
nations. But, since I already had the whole quartert, I decided to read on... and, in doing so, figured out what was going on. Abraham had not written
four stories that were part of a larger series. Rather, he had written one long story that happened to be published in four volumes. The reason the
first book felt unsatisfying was because it was an incomplete thought.
Abraham crafts an original epic fantasy world less dependent on chosen heroes and grand battles against the hordes of evil and more about the cultural
and economic clashes and struggles that ultimately determine the fates of empires. In the first book, the andat known as Seedless is essentially being
used as a magical cotton gin in a world with minimal widespread machinery, giving Saraykeht an unbeatable economic edge against other trade ports...
but andats are unreliable and becoming harder and harder to keep enslaved, leaving the cities of the Khaiem vulnerable to the ruthlessness and ingenuity
of rivals. They don’t even have standing armies, so sure that the andat can protect them from any foe. Khai Saraykeht laughs away a man who tries to
warn them of the threat posed by Galt’s steam-powered war wagons, but the reader can read the writing on the wall, and soon enough so can Otah and his
companions. (It’s not quite proper to call them “friends”; the culture they live in, the formalities, class divisions, and traditions that Otah
flagrantly flouts, the different visions of what the world and the future should be, do not quite allow for true friendship, but they come to share
common goals and learn to respect one another, even when they're embittered enemies.) This is ultimately a tale of a world in transition, moving away
from powerful yet fickle forces of enslaved magic, away from old bloodthirsty traditions, and toward a new vision built by human minds and hands, a
world of steam engines and unified nations. For such a world to come to pass, there must be sacrifices, and the harder a nation clings to obsolete
ways, the more is destroyed by time's inevitable march.
As an epic, there are, of course, many characters, but the central one is Otah Machi. We meet him as a young boy enduring the brutality of the poet's
school, finding the courage to defy both life-paths laid out for him by others: the way of the poet, enslaver of an andat, and the way of the Khai,
murderer of family in the name of power. He aspires to disappear in the wider world, but learns the hard way, more than once, that it's impossible to
outrun one's own destiny. Against his will, he finds himself drawn back into politics, into the circle of the poets whom he'd fled, into the dangers of
the andats and the threat of Galt. He makes friends and, too often, must sacrifice them in the name of the greater good, or at least what he believes to
be the greater good. He often faces decisions where there is no good answer. He finds love and loses it, finds hope and loses that, and thus ultimately
rises to reforge the lost Empire and usher in a new future, even knowing he will never truly see the fruits of his long life's labors. Otah makes for
an interesting and complex, but not always likeable, main character. The same could be said for the rest of the cast; even when I didn't like or agree
with them, their tales were compelling enough to keep me turning pages.
If I have any real issues with the story, it's how some matters of gender were handled, particularly those that were never quite resolved. The whole
also felt a little longer than it needed to be, and for all its length I kept feeling there were some things that just fell by the wayside that ought
to have been properly addressed for closure. On the balance, though, I enjoyed this story. It's a different take on epic fantasy; while there were
battles and matters of succession and other familiar staples, it was ultimately more about the politics, the negotiations and treaties made and
broken, set in an original world with richly realized cultures.
