7 August, 2003
The Phoenix Guards, Steven Brust (491 pp, MMPB, 1991).
I am ashamed that I have to admit that I'd forgotten what an excellent author Steven Brust is. That's not to say I ever thought he was bad, or even mediocre: I own all but one of his books, and I've enjoyed every one. However, it has been a long time since I read any of them-- his last one came out while I was on austerity measures, and then I forgot about it.
But I was reminded when I read Kate and Chad's comments on his newest book (not actually released yet, IIRC). Then, I figured that, since I couldn't remember a single thing about what happened in either of the preceding books in the series, I'd better reread them before getting the new ones. And so here we are.
The Phoenix Guards is the first of Brust's "Paarfi of Roundwood" novels. These are ostensibly historical novels in Brust's Dragaeran Empire, what they actually are is an opportunity for Brust to go nuts and pretend he's Alexandre Dumas. (Not that this is a bad thing.) Paarfi is the supposed author of these novels, writing around the time when Brust's other Dragaera series-- the Vlad Taltos books-- is set. So, anybody taking these books as historical background to the Taltos series must be cautious. But, that sort of metatextual (is that even a word?) analysis can get boring, and I read this for fun, so I'm going to ignore it.
Khaavren is a young Dragaeran gentleman who sets off for the capital of the Empire, with the intention of making a name for himself in the Imperial Guard (the titular "Phoenix Guards"). Along his way, he makes some friends-- laconic Aerich, energetic Tazendra, and suave Pel. The tone for the book is set by their first patrols, when each of them manages to engage in a fatal duel with their assigned partners. Hm, that description doesn't sound as funny as the scene is, in the book, but trust me, it's hilarious. Over the course of the book, the four friends become embroiled in court intrigue, as they set off on a mission to arrest a fugitive from justice, meet the heir to the throne, reconnoitre the eastern border of the empire, face an invasion, conduct diplomacy, and get arrested on false charges. It's all swashbuckly and fun, and while the writing style takes a few chapters to get used to, it's well worth the effort, for then one can read chapters with titles like "In Which the Plot, Behaving in Much the Manner Of a Soup to which Corn Starch Has been Added, Begins, at Last, to Thicken," and "In Which Our Friends Realize With Great Pleasure That the Situation has Become Hopeless," and dialogue such as
"A flash-stone will be welcome, I think," said Khaavren, "Several, if you can get them."
"Get them? My dear Khaavren, I make them!"
"What, you?"
"Indeed yes; you know that I am a sorcerer."
"That is true; I had forgotten. Well, and how long does it take you to make one?"
"Well, to charge a single stone with enough force to knock a man from his horse, and, if well aimed, to leave him stretched on the ground, will require, first, three hours to prepare the stone, next, two hours to beg the stone to receive the charge, and last, a single hour to acquaint the stone with the means of releasing the charge."
"Well, that is six hours, then."
"Why yes, I think it is. How curious."
"And why is it curious that it is six hours?"
"Well, I have often noticed that it takes me six hours to charge a stone."
"And? What then?"
"Well, it is curious that you have arrived at this number after hearing only the several parts of it."
"You know, Tazendra, that I am an arithmetist."
"Ah, I hadn't known that. All is solved then."
Well, I think it's funny.