Blood 15

**Chapter 15**

I hope you're ready for some Bad Stuff. Seriously. Turn back now if you have a weak stomach.

We're back with Brogan, Galtero and Lunetta, who are lurking about in the *“snowy darkness”* of nighttime Aydindril. Brogan is eager to find *“them,”* and Lunetta insists that she followed his instructions and *“they be spelled.”* They wander the streets for a while, and Brogan hears the sound of *“the passing clank of armor. It sounded like more men than a simple patrol.”* He guesses that the D'Harans are seizing the city, which is what he would do in Richard's place, but thinks that he'll soon be gone so it doesn't matter.

Brogan rags out Lunetta for not being able to tell whether Richard was lying or not. Why couldn't she, you may ask? Because Richard is Just That Speshul:

*“ 'He be different. I do not know why, but he be different. I have never felt magic like his before.' ”*

So Richard is now immune to lie-detector spells, because of his magic (which is PURE RAGE!). That's yet another unearned and nonsensical power for our favorite Sue, I do believe. \~/ Seriously, what aspect of . . . of ANYTHING to do with Richard suggests “immune to lie detectors”?

I hate this series so much.

The three Nicobaritalians finally reach the place where Lunetta left . . . whoever they're looking for . . . which proves to be a midden heap. For those without access to a thesaurus, a midden heap is either a dung-heap, or “a mound consisting of shells of edible mollusks and other refuse, marking the site of a prehistoric human habitation.” Since I find the latter far more amusing, I hereby rename it the Mollusk Heap.  Lunetta says that she's not familiar with Aydindril and didn't know where else to leave them that nobody would happen by. I'm not sure if this is supposed to be humorous, but if it is, it fails.

We learn that Lunetta put a *“circle spell”* on the Mysterious Whoever, which apparently makes them wander in a circle without realizing it. We finally, three pages in, find out exactly who our Villains Three are stalking . . . it turns out to be Duchess Lumholz and her husband. Well, that was an anticlimax.

Brogan ogles the Duchess's cleavage, which causes her husband to grab his sword hilt and threaten Brogan. Good for him. They two Keltons circle the Mollusk Heap a few more times, still convinced they're traveling in a straight line, before Brogan decides to intervene. And by “intervene,” I of course mean “step in front of Duchess Lumholz and rip open the front of her dress.”

I'm, uh . . . I'm taking Brogan off the Sympathetic Characters list and adding him to the Cartoonish Villains list.

Lunetta paralyzes the Duke with magic, while Galtero heroically holds the Duchess's arms behind her back. Brogan and the Duchess exchange some standard Gloating Villain and Helpless Woman dialogue, which accomplishes exactly nothing. Then . . . well, things get weird and squicky even by the standards of this series, and that's saying something.

In a scene that takes an entire paragraph, three sentences, 51 words to describe, Brogan cuts off Duchess Lumholz's left nipple.

That was gross. \~/ And sexual for no good reason. \~/ Also, stupid. \~/ And I need another drink. \~/

Brogan gives the severed nipple to Lunetta, who proceeds to cast a spell over it. For your reading pleasure, I shall here reproduce Lunetta's spell.

> *From earth to sky, from leaves to roots,*
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> *from fire to ice, and soul's own fruits.*
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> *From light to dark, from wind to water,*
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> *I claim this spirit and Creator's daughter.*
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> *Till the heart's blood boils or the bones be ash,*
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> *till the tallow be dust and death's teeth gnash,*
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> *this one be mine.*
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> *I cast her gnomon in a sunless glen,*
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> *and pull this soul beyond its umbra's ken.*
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> *Till her tasks be done and the worms be fed,*
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> *till the flesh be dust and the soul has fled,*
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> *this one be mine . . .*
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> *Cock's hen, spiders ten, bezoar then, I make a thrall stew.*
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> *Ox gall, castor and caul, I make a chattel brew . . .*
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A few things I think I must mention in regards to this spell.

First, it's not as terrible as the Screeling Song from Book 2. The rhymes actually work, and the overall tone is nicely dark and morbid. However, the word choices . . . make no sense. *“Soul's own fruits?”* What are those? And what's that bit about “*death's teeth gnash[ing]*”? Shouldn't the word “death” be capitalized if it's being personified? And if it's not, how can it have teeth?

The last two lines have nothing to do with anything else, and read like a shopping list for a Generic Wicked Witch. And no, Lunetta does not, in fact, use any of the items she describes. \~/

And the line *“I cast her gnomon in a sunless glen”* is technically correct (a gnomon being the raised part of a sundial, the thing that casts a shadow), but it still smacks of thesaurus abuse, being a pretty obscure word. The imagery is odd: Lunetta is . . . casting Lumholz into darkness, I guess? It sorta-kinda works, but I have to stop and think about it to make it make sense, which is Not Good.

More importantly, why does Lunetta need to recite this little chant to cast a spell? No other spellcaster has been portrayed as having to do this: not Zedd, not Darken Rahl, not Richard, not Giller, not Shota, not the Nuns, not the Bad Nuns, not the wizards; nobody. Furthermore, Lunetta *herself* doesn't always do this. She can *detect lies* without any verbal components, and later in the book she performs various other magical effects without employing nursery rhymes. This comes out of nowhere and makes no sense, just so Terry Goodkind can have his way with a poor, innocent thesaurus and indulge in some creepy imagery. \~/

Now, if you want to read a genuinely chilling spell-chant, look no farther than Chapter VIII of The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, for the Barrow-wight's chant:

> *Cold be hand and heart and bone,*
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> *and cold be sleep under stone:*
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> *never more to wake on stony bed,*
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> *never, till the Sun fails and the Moon is dead.*
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> *In the black wind the stars shall die,*
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> *and still on gold here let them lie,*
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> *till the dark lord lifts his hand*
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> *over dead sea and withered land.*
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THAT is a damn scary bit of poetry.

So Lumholz shudders as *“tendrils of magic coil . . . around her, snaking into her flesh”* and *“. . . fangs sank into her very soul.”* Lunetta then gives the severed nipple – now conveniently mummified – to Brogan, since possession if it is implied to give the holder control over Lumholz.

I promised nipple-centric magic, didn't I? You probably thought I was exaggerating. I wish.

Brogan orders Lunetta to heal Lumholz, so she does as Galtero *“watched with a glint of lust in his dark eyes.*” \~/ I guess Galtero has a fetish for . . . gory lesbian hurt/comfort imagery? Man, that's sick. Anyway, Lumholz's breast is healed, except that it has no nipple.

Why is this specifically mentioned?

Because it is a Goddamned plot point, that's why. \~/ I wish I was joking.

Brogan decides to kill Duke Lumholz by disemboweling him with three slashes, mimicking the attacks of the Misters, for . . . some reason. Galtero, meanwhile, wants to rape the Duchess, and specifically does *not* want her brainwashed into compliance. Brogan frees her to react normally (that is, with abject horror), and Galtero drags her off to do the deed atop the Mollusk Heap.

Gaah. That was terrible even by the standards of the series.

Drinks: 9

Rape Count: 11

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