Blood 2

Chapter 2We now return to Richard, our hero protagonist, who is enjoying some hot spice soup. Gratch, his loyal Fish companion, is growling and his eyes are glowing green. Cue three paragraphs of background, just in case you thought there might be some tension or something. Oh, and Mistress Sanderholt (aka Sandy) is also there.
Sandy is naturally concerned about the eight-foot-tall hairy winged monster who suddenly started snarling for no apparent reason. Richard tries to allay her fears by saying “He doesn't eat people. He would never hurt anyone.” Oh, he doesn't eat people, does he, Richard? What about the dead woman you freaking fed to him when you first met? 
Gratch continues to growl and glare, and his eyes glow brighter and brighter green. Richard, utilizing the deductive reasoning that makes him such an obvious choice for the post of Seeker, comes to the brilliant conclusion that Gratch . . . sees a rabbit. “It must be a rabbit, he decided at last; Gratch loved rabbit.” 
Next we have a page and a half of background in case you've forgotten the end of the previous book. Richard is insanely happy that Kahlan is still alive, and is eager to go meet her and Zedd again. There's some text about how awesome and gorgeous the Mindrapists' Palace is, and how sad it is that Aydindril has “fallen under the blight of the Imperial Order” (which I continue to insist is a completely moronic name for an organization).
Richard asks Sandy what Kahlan was like as a child. Sandy says that she was “touched by [. . .] a special character,” whatever that's supposed to mean.
“None of the Confessors were surprised by her accession to Mother Confessor,” . . . wait, “accession? I think you mean “ascension,” as in “the act of ascending.” 
“. . . and all were pleased because her way was to facilitate agreement, not to dominate.”
. . .
Yeah, no. This is the heartless bitch who expressed her willingness to murder an innocent child; who bullied Chandelier into being her bodyguard with the threat of permanent exile (after threatening him with death for the crime of speaking his mind); and, lest we forget, whose entire modus operandi is freaking mindrape! 
Yes, she does dominate: it's what she is. This is like praising a werewolf for being calm and level-headed during the full moon: it's not possible, just by virtue of what the creature is.
\~/ I'm not sure if this is for stupidity, irony, or hypocrisy.
Sandy reminisces about the time she spanked Young Kahlan for stealing some roast duck, and Richard wonders if she got in trouble for physically assaulting the Princess of the Mindrapists. Sandy says no: “Had I pampered her, her mother would have turned me out.” 
I wonder how many servants/disciplinarians the Mindrapists lose to angry or upset young girls? Quite a few, I would imagine. Oh well; they're just scum commoners. \~/
Sandy continues her story, and it turns out Kahlan stole the duck to feed a woman with two young children who had approached “someone she thought would be gullible” and begged for money to feed her children. Kahlan brought her food instead, and the woman – who was, of course, a Strawman Selfish Welfare Leech \~/\~/ “was furious, and started yelling, accusing Kahlan of being selfish with all the palace's gold.” Because that's how Selfish Welfare Leeches behave, you see. Especially in quasi-medieval times, when they can expect to be beaten, imprisoned, or straight-up murdered if a noble dislikes their haircut. \~/ Yeah.
Blah blah, the Selfish Welfare Leech was dragged before Kahlan's mother, who told Kahlan that “if you chose to help someone, then they became your responsibility.” Um . . . how does that work, exactly? If I give five dollars to a homeless man, he becomes my responsibility? If I choose to donate money to a charity, I assume responsibility for whatever they're supposedly doing? Even if it's a charity run by Selfish Strawman Welfare Leeches who extracted my donation through deception?
Conversely, does this mean that if I trick someone into volunteering to help me, they are morally obligated to continue helping me no matter what? Even if I lied to get their aid?
\~/
I'm not sure if this is how Terry Goodkind thinks, or how he thinks Those Evil Liberals think, but either way the stupid makes my head hurt.
Blah blah blah, Kahlan found the woman a job after a lot of searching (because “they all knew the woman was a sot.”) Said woman worked there for “a long time,” which would seem to imply that she was honestly hoping for work, and NOT just a Selfish Welfare Leech; otherwise, why didn't she just bail? Isn't that the whole point of Selfish Welfare Leeches; that they want free handouts and don't want to do any actual work?
We're not even 20 pages in, folks, and already the “morals” of the story are being directly contradicted by the story itself. That's some great writing, that is.
We get a short infodump on Richard and the events of the previous two books, and then Sandy continues to rhapsodize about Kahlan, saying that “she always felt a deep responsibility for the people of the Midlands. I know it hurt her to her very soul to have them turn against her for the promise of gold.” Yes, I imagine it did hurt Kahlan, in the same sense that it always hurts tyrants when the subjects of their tyranny rise up against them. The White Witch didn't get my pity, and Kahlan ain't either.
We learn that there are people gathered outside the Mindrapists' Palace because Ranson the Noble Rapist from the previous book promised them gold, and Sandy speculates that if gold isn't forthcoming soon, they're going to riot and take it. Richard wonders if the Imperial Order will fight the townspeople and keep the gold (gee, ya think?). After this, Richard and Sandy both decide to get out of Aydindril while the getting's good . . . and that brings something to mind.
At the end of the last book, Richard stormed into the Mindrapists' Palace and mercilessly slaughtered the councilors, as well as any random hapless guards who got in his way. He was not subtle. He blew up doors and made no effort to conceal himself or hide his identity; in fact, he screamed that he was the Seeker. Given all this – and given that the Mindrapists' Palace is allegedly in the hands of the Imperial Order – why is no one looking for Richard? One would expect Order soldiers to be scouring the city for him, but there's no hint that this is so, no shred of tension or urgency as Richard and Sandy have their leisurely conversation. For all the dramatic impact it's having Richard might have walked out on a $10 bar bill rather than broken into the single most important building in the Midlands and publicly slaughtered their assembled rulers of one-third of a continent.
\~/
“Gratch's growl deepened into a primal rumble that rattled Richard's bones. . . “ So Gratch has been growling ferociously all this time? And Richard still thinks it's because he sees a rabbit?
Richard is a moron.
Also, Gratch speaks English, if roughly. Why can't he just tell Richard what the problem is? He's acting like a Generic Animal Companion, but it's been made very clear that he has near-human-level intelligence. 
Richard notes that his seven-foot-tall furry monster friend is growling ferociously, and even notes that he's never seen Gratch react like this when hunting before. As the vaunted logical skills of the Seeker come into play, Richard finally realizes that there may just possibly be some manner of danger about. He feels “a burgeoning sense of danger [. . .] welling up from within himself, from his Han . . . The magic within had become another sense that often warned him when his other senses did not. He realized that that was what was warning him now.”
#I thought Richard couldn't access his Awesome Magical Powarz except through pure rage. That was the entire freaking point of the last book. \~/
#So, Gratch growling ferociously and actively looking for danger for, what, ten minutes? didn't clue Richard in; it had to be his Speshul Magiks? \~/
#This guy is a trained woods guide? Really?
Richard tells Sandy to get inside, then sees weird movement “down among the white columns,” which he compares to a shimmer in the air. Abruptly he remembers when he heard Gratch growl like this before. Oh, wait – let me share the actual line:
“Abruptly, the manifest realization welled up within him, like cold black water surging up through a rift in river ice – Richard remembered when it was he had heard Gratch growl like that. The fine hairs on the back of his neck stood out like icy needles in his flesh.”
Yes, that's much better than “Abruptly, Richard remembered when he had heard Gratch growl like that before.”
Richard draws the Sword of the Homicidal Hobo and says “Dance with me, Death. I am ready.” We learn that “the words were not his, but came from the sword's magic, from the spirits of those who had used the weapon before him. With the words came an instinctive understanding of their meaning: it was a morning prayer, meant to say that you could die this day, so you should strive to do your best while you still lived.”
Back to the list format.
#Why did the words have to come from the sword's magic? Or rather, from the spirits of the dead that are somehow trapped in the hellish netherworld that is the Sword of the Homicidal Hobo? Richard is supposed to be a fantasy hero, and he already says things like “Blade be true this day” with no real reason. Why not just have Richard saying badass things?
#Why the “instinctive understanding?” Characters having things handed to them IS NOT GOOD WRITING. Characters learning and figuring things out on their own is good writing.
#How is that a prayer? A prayer is defined as either “a devout petition to God or an object of worship.” or “a spiritual communion with God or an object of worship, as in supplication, thanksgiving, adoration, or confession,” according to dictionary.com. This is neither, unless Richard is worshiping Death and asking Death for a turn around the ballroom.
#The phrase itself sounds defiant, along the lines of “Come get me if you think you can,” but the meaning – while perfectly fine – doesn't seem to fit very well to me.
#Why a morning prayer? If it's a prayer, it sounds like a pre-battle prayer.
Oh, and then we learn that they're also a battle cry. Okay, I guess that works.
Gratch takes to the air, and we get a paragraph about “them,” indicating that they're materializing out of the air, and that Richard can see them with his mind even though he can't see them with his eyes. “They” prove to be “mriswith,” or Misters, as I shall continue to call them. They are white due to their chameleon cloaks, “White and pure as a child's prayer.”
And the chapter ends.
Hey, why isn't anyone concerned about the seven-foot-tall, flying, snarling, furry hellmonster wandering around freely in the large city? \~/
Drinks: 10
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