Hey friends, long time no write about the Name of the Wind, Kingkiller, etc. I’ve intended to do a Name of the Wind analysis reread (not to mention the other books) for some time now. —
You should assume spoilers henceforth! Forthwith! This post shall take a fortnight of hours to read!
Table of Contents
- You should assume spoilers henceforth! Forthwith! This post shall take a fortnight of hours to read!
- Note about me:
- Name of the Wind Analysis — Ch 1 :
- Navigate to other chapters:
Note about me:
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Name of the Wind Analysis — Ch 1 :
Again, please open your hymnals to the appropriate page number and chapter. I’ll remind you, straight up, that this chapter is entitled A Place for Demons. The town is literally called nowhere. But we only see one demon in the story.
My natural inference, therefore, is that Kvothe and Bast are the other two.
Here’s Connor’s first impressions in the chapter:
We have an mention of the Chandrian as the Smiths prentice “boy” asks two early questions about Taborlin: How did they find him? Why didn’t they kill him when they had the chance? Both questions we ourselves will ll ask about Kvothe’s engagement with them. “Hush. You’ll get all of the answers before the end.” Message to the audience. These are the questions to expect answers to.
My main concern here with all of the Taborlin story is the we’re actually getting all of the parallels to what has happened to Kvothe right up front. And who is to say that Taborlin is good? We know he’s great, but who says he’s not the bad guy?
Taborlin story set in spring. Frame narrative in fall. “Felling” maybe hints that Kvothes engagement with Chandrian has already happened?
Kvothe first line: “Actually you’re missing more than half.” Pat hinting that the story Kvothe will tell is only a portion of the whole of the narrative.
Tinkers quote:
Once simple trade
Twice freely given aid
Thrice insult made
Look at Kvothe talking with Tinker later in the books. First on his way to Trebon in book one, was it a simple trade? Selling the horse? WMF did the Tinker give him anything or did he give the Tinker something? Does that presage a conflict with a Tinker in book 3?
— Connor Hathaway
Well the first tinker in the story is actually Abenthy, and he saves his life by making sure he doesn’t take what would poison him at other times. He also joins the troupe, becomes family. But who is he? I’ll deal with this later.
The second is the one who gives him the loden stone. And the aid Kvothe gives is trading the horse for the donkey who has a stone bruise. The trade is repaid twice by the weapon he uses to slay the dragon.
The insult could be the fruit wine that Kvothe rejects.
He gives an iron penny, a copper penny, and a silver penny to the one on the road in Wise Man’s Fear.
Of course another way to think of it is that Abenthy is sort of the meta-tinker. The once for a simple trade then becomes the tinker in the first story — a trade of a horse for a donkey. Twice for aid becomes interesting because the only potential aid is the copper penny (the currency of the dead), the iron penny (for men), and the silver penny (for the Fae). He trades for the writing and the ratty cloak.
But then again, does he?
Shortly after that, he gets his shaed. Is it possible that’s his amulet? His protection? It’s black, it’s cold, and it keeps him safe from evil and demons.
More from Connor:
Amulet of Taborlin cost one iron, one copper, one silver. What does K trade that for later in the series? That should be relevant: all three of those seem to indicate the three realms.
Next an Amulet – black, cold, safe from evil and demons — they then start talking about demons. Tinkers can protect from the Chandrian?
What had happened at Sheps farm last kendling? Was it the sheep thing?
Chandrian weren’t demons first 6 people to refuse Tehlu’s path, cursed. 6 and they were cursed? Isn’t that the “real” story they tell later on?
Kvothe goes out and narrative starts on a night with no moon. One thing a wise man fears.
Why are Sheps sheep going missing? Is it related to Bast?
— Connor Hathaway
Regarding the night with no moon, that’s when the realm of the dark, the shade, the shadow, the silence comes. The realm of the Draugr. And assuming god of the sun is also god of the underworld, then in this case the dark side of the moon is the dark side of the fertility goddess as well: the blight. The fungus of death.
To my earlier question:
The candles are all burning blue. But we have literally nothing else in the story. Is it possible that Taborlin’s a Chandrian?
At this point, with the demons/spirits — there seems to be some hierarchy of “supernatural” beings. The “Singers” that Haliax mentions with the Chandrian.
Namers and Shapers but who goes where and are they different people. Maybe we can figure out taxonomy of them if not an orientation on a “good” or “evil” binary? Naming v, Shaping? Discovery, communication and integration vs Empire, dominion and power?
It would seem to make sense for a post-modern author to create a world where the distinctions between them are more clearly drawn second and third hand by institutional forces like “The Church” and “Empire” on throughout time, than what they themselves were actually a part of.
— Connor Hathaway
Being a metamodern, I tend to roll my eyes at all of that. It’s like coming to large institutional knowledge and saying I alone as an auteur know what the entire institution has overlooked. Not unlike saying I refuse to vote in a democracy in order to stick it to the system. Or that, in Kvothe’s case, not “needing” the church or the state to affirm a relationship is somehow sticking it to these systems — this kind of thinking never considers, for instance, that a vow, given before an audience of whatever personal makeup, is a courageous appointment with local, intimate witnesses that I, myself, will be a certain kind of person at a certain time in the future. For instance, still faithful and married to my wife. Or still faithful and married to democracy. Or still faithful and married to the idea that someone, somewhere in history, knew the truth and tried to preserve it for the sake of justice and mercy for the sake of the institution’s health — especially inside institutions founded on ideas like mea culpa — and that I and I alone am not the first to come along and do good.
Also, there can be worlds big enough for all kinds of stories and the stories can be fine independently of my personal criticisms and tastes ie Star Wars is generally good and fine even if Andor is incredible and other parts of it are garbage.
— Connor Hathaway
In any case.
The pair of pennies?
That reminds always reminds me of the tax for the people trying to cross the styx. Again the Draugr comes to mind.
The Scrael in this chapter is described as part stone, part fungus. They’re black. “Black earth” in Egyptian is khimi. Al-kimiya is the arabic for the “Egyptian science.” — Alchemy.
Fungal obsidian sounds, to me, like that. The non-human, non-fae, realm of the dead stuff.
The scrael being fungus could point to the interconnectedness of the Fae or that it’s being controlled by something else?
— Connor Hathaway
“Everyone knew what he was thinking. Certainly there were demons in the world. But they were like Tehlu’s angels. They were like heroes and kings. They belonged in stories. They belonged out there. Taborlin the Great called up fire and lightning to destroy demons. Tehlu broke them in his hands and sent them howling into the nameless void. Your childhood friend didn’t stomp one to death on the road to Baedn-Bryt. It was ridiculous.”
Rothfuss, Patrick. The Name of the Wind
Outside of the narrative function of this, the multiple metaphors here sort of blur. What if they’re all the same thing? Demons, angels, Tehlu, heroes, dead barrow kings, Taborlin?
“Rotting flowers and burning hair.”
Shows up here with the sound of the scrael.
What else smells like that?
Ethylene.
It’s what plants secrete when they’re rotting, over-ripe.
It burns with a blue flame.
It also happens to be in the blood — particularly in high amounts — during inflammation. “Blood and burning hair” may well be a fair comparison, depending. Especially if blue flames are present. And iron.
Or alternatively, burning hair might be a connection point and iron on the one hand contrasts ethylene on the other.
In either case, I think there’s a parallel to his parents’s murder here.
“He had chosen the name carefully” and “taken a new name for most of the usual reasons and for a few unusual ones as well.”
Kote, at the start,
“Looking up, he saw a thousand stars glittering in the deep velvet of a night with no moon. He knew them all, their stories and their names. He knew them in a familiar way, the way he knew his own hands.”
Where else do stars appear?
The names of Aleph’s angels:
“Then Aleph spoke their long names and they were wreathed in a white fire. The fire danced along their wings and they became swift. The fire flickered in their eyes and they saw into the deepest hearts of men. The fire filled their mouths and they sang songs of power. Then the fire settled on their foreheads like silver stars and they became at once righteous and wise and terrible to behold. Then the fire consumed them and they were gone forever from mortal sight.”
The “star-iron,” which, for the record, whom Bast calls “grandfather iron” in NRBD — odd name for Telhu / Cinder, but hey, it’s a weird family and if the death of your “grandpa” is related to the power that splits your mother’s personality so that she’s “young again” and ever-moving between worlds, then grandpa iron makes sense:
“I nodded absently as I turned it over in my hands. I’d always wanted to see a drawstone, ever since I was a child. I pulled the pin away, feeling the strange attraction it had to the smooth black metal. I marveled. A piece of star-iron in my hand. “How much do you figure it’s worth?” I asked.”
This moment with Denna, as above, so below.
“No breath of wind disturbed the surface of the water. So as we climbed out onto the fallen stone the stars reflected themselves in double fashion; as above, so below. It was as if we were sitting amid a sea of stars. We spoke for hours, late into the night. Neither of us mentioned our pasts. I sensed that there were things she would rather not talk about, and by the way she avoided questioning me, I think she guessed the same. We spoke of ourselves instead, of fond imaginings and impossible things. I pointed to the skies and told her the names of stars and constellations. She told me stories about them I had never heard before.”
This one is particularly interesting if, as I assume, Denna is the moon goddess.
The conversation lulled as they absorbed this piece of information. I looked up at the stars, tracing the familiar constellations in my head. Ewan the hunter, the crucible, the young-again mother, the fire-tongued fox, the broken tower….
In this case, if the stars are people and if Haliax (or his role) is the sun and Felurian is the moon, I think it’s fair to say that the young-again mother is Felurian (Laniel), the broken tower is the Ctheah / Selitos, the crucible is Cinder, I’d put money on the fire-tongued fox for Haliax, the hunter being Cyphus (Ares).
Maybe, by the time of the frame story, he knows their literal names.
As I said, I assume that these proto-persons — these personifications of cosmic movements — are also stars and cities. Belen, Antus, Vaeret, Tinusa, Emlen, and the twin cities of Murilla and Murella. Then Tariniel. Murilla could be Myr-illa and Myr-ella (Myr-Laniel?). Perhaps this is a flawed assumption, but it seems to work both in what we know of the stories participating in medieval personification AND reification. Summer being a direction, a place, for instance. Or snatching the moon, who is a person.
Here’s what’s fascinating. When the stars show up later in the Jax scene?
“Those are spectacles,” the tinker said. “They’re a second pair of eyes that help a person see better.” He picked them up and settled them onto Jax’s face.
Jax looked around. “Things look the same,” he said. Then he looked up. “What are those?”
“Those are stars,” the tinker said.
“I’ve never seen them before.” He turned, still looking up. Then he stopped stock still. “What is that?”
“That is the moon,” the tinker said.
“I think that would make me happy,” Jax said. “Well there you go,” the tinker said, relieved. “You have your spectacles.…”
Of course this could be a telescope, but I don’t think so. Consider eclipse glasses that let you see the moon when it’s passing over the sun. Is it possible that Jax shines so bright as the sun that he’s blinded from the moon and stars? That he needs shade over his own blinding vision in order to properly see the night sky? The hidden character in this whole mythos is the god of the sun. Who is actually, despite his power, subservient to the moon as her high priest.
I’d also mention that if stars in one world represent people in another, is it possible that the unfamiliar fixed stars of the fae represent the human beings on the other side?
Later, Bredon makes just this comparison:
“My plan is to insinuate myself into your favor now. I will make myself useful and entertaining. I will provide conversation and a way to pass the time.” He spilled a set of round stones out onto the marble tabletop. “Then, when your star grows ascendant in the Maer’s sky, I may find myself in possession of an unexpectedly useful friend.” He began to sort the stones into their different colors. “And should your star fail to rise, I am still richer by several games of tak.”
I think too of the entire passage where Felurian weaves the shade in starlight. In any case, my assumption is that the fixed stars are the Chandrian. Moon is Felurian / Donna / Auri. Sun is Haliax, the priest and Draugr, sun and shade alike. Whom Kvothe kills (the barrow king? The demon he slays? Retelling the Encanis myth in his own life?) and whose mantle — whose hame — he takes on his own shoulders in order to pull the rest of the group. Has a different meaning and relevance depending on how he gets the names of the stars.
Moving on:
“The only other furniture was a narrow bed with a large, dark chest at its foot. Nothing decorated the walls or covered the wooden floor.”
I do wonder often about this wood. I made the joke early on about making furniture out of the Cthaeh’s tree. The box smelled of citrus. So did the Cthaeh. Is the box made of the wood of the Cthaeh?
This would be wild. Kvothe goes and harvests the ctheah to make a box. Just the most disrespectful thing possible:
“I will destroy all of your possible futures. Everyone you come in to contact with will suffer.”
“Probably true. I’ll start by making you in to furniture.”
“…wait. no, not like that.”
— Connor Hathaway’s Friend
Later down the page, here’s what really stuck out to me this time:
“You haven’t been this late in a span of days,” he said as he handed over the bowl. “There must have been good stories tonight, Reshi.” Reshi was another of the innkeeper’s names, a nickname almost. The sound of it tugged one corner of his mouth into a wry smile as he sank into the deep chair in front of the fire. “So, what did you learn today, Bast?”
Reshi. Some have speculated as to whether Reshi is an honorific or not that Bast uses for Kvothe. Does it mean teacher like Rabbi? Master like patri? Something to do with the forest or harvest like threshing?Why not all of the above?
So much packed into that word he literally gives the protagonist a coy smirk.
Options:
- rěshì — Hanyu Pinyin reading of 惹事
- to stir up trouble; to make trouble
- 熱食 — a hot meal
- 凍食 — to eat food cold
Kind of hilarious there. Gotta love tonal languages.
Me?
I’m partial to the following:
レーシー
…for the record is a Japanese title. Romanized, it’s Reshi. But it’s the Japanese word for Leshy (similar to Porevit and the god Cernunnos), king of the woodland realm (arguably the fae).
To be internally consistent, I think it’s a title. Reshi is a Romanization of a Japanese term for Leshy. Leshy literally means “he of the deciduous.” Leshy can be seen as a title or a name, depending, but he’s a keeper of all of the forest realm in Slavic mythology. He rules over the forest, over hunting, and is the divine arbiter of the woodland realms — sovereign ruler over other Leshies. He can adopt any size, any appearance. He is, in many ways, a representation of the forest and Fae realm itself. He keeps the Fae.
It’s very similar also to the god Cernunnos and the horned god in wicca, which we’ll get to with Narrow Road:
Both Oak King and Holly King, sun and shade. Sound familiar? The guy who’s constantly brought “on the horns” both in discipline and dilemma?
In this case, the horned god may be a title and as Lanre is taken down, the hame shifts to new shoulders.
As a side note, the image is rather personal to me, given my namesake:
He of course isn’t aiming it at me, that would be ridiculous, but I do have a personal connection to the image.
What if Elodin did it? After all, he did say the door “almost killed him” — strange language for a door so close to the Lanre story:
Combine it with the triple goddess:
And if you stack them:
Or:
When I tell you his story is wiccan and neopagan, I mean it.
So who is Leshy, this Horned King?
In some of the oldest tales, Leshy oscillates between tree form and man form. He is accompanied by a strong wind, lacks a shadow, can take the appearance of an unassuming man (such as an innkeeper), he often is accompanied by all sorts of auditory manifestations including all sounds that could be heard in a forest, even mimicking the speech of humans, and at other times he’s deliberately silent. Perhaps even cannot speak.
You invariably get lost near his dwelling. He used a ton of fallen trees (such as with Kvothe’s troupe burning).
In any case.
It still fits within the sort of “collective mythology” or “comparative religion” story Rothfuss is telling, I use the quotes advisedly as I do not ascribe to either school of thought. However, I find the story fascinating and easily the best in its class — certainly a postmodern fairy tale, though not a metamodern one.
The Leshy story fits perfectly over the top of the assumptions I’ve made about the personification of the Sun being the keeper of the Fae, the master of the other personifications, and so forth.
Again, if Felurian is queen of the moon, Kvothe knows her name and takes over as high priest of the moon — King Shade and Sun — then the prince of twilight would naturally be their child.
Bast.
Insert the time differential:
Why do I like this?
Because Rothfuss — publicly, often — says he hates the accidental connection with the Egyptian god and it’s because “bast” sounds like “bastard.” This is how he names things: more poetic etymology as opposed to conlang. Which I adore about him. I always have.
Specifically with this, though, it’s literal I think.
Felurian, if queen of love and the moon, had a husband.
King Sun and Shade.
If Kvothe sleeps with her, particularly in a way that doesn’t drive him mad or kill him, then he’s not merely some mortal. He’s someone who is a rival suitor.
If he impregnates Felurian, and the prince of twilight is born, in that case you have not a child of the reigning king, but a Bast-ard.
Also of note: there could be a weird parallel where Kvothe’s mother did sleep with a fae God and that god was Haliax or Selitos. I’m curious (as you’ll see later) about her interactions with Ben.
Also possible for her to be part of the fae line and therefore herself fae. Elodin could come into this. Once or twice I posited a “Kvothe’s his own grandpa” scenario, the ideas get absurd with the time dilation, but… honestly not out of the realm of possibility when time gets involved.
Particularly because we don’t know exactly how time works in the Fae:
In a place where you can literally walk from summer to winter, why not walk from the past into the future?
Of course if Denna is Natalia:
And so is Kvothe’s mother and I’m right about the moon fae thing, then he really is his own father. And may be therefore directly responsible for the death of his parents.
Picture this: as the new Haliax, he sets off a series of events that lead the Amyr to kill his troupe. And it’s old Kvothe at the scene of the crime we come across the first time we encounter it with young Kvothe.
That, knowing what we know of the fae, the moon, and Denna, this isn’t outside the realm of possibility is a bit nutty.
“Celum Tinture” I’m assuming is a shift from “Caelum Tincture” meaning something like “the colors of the sky” or, more likely, “dye-ing heaven.” Considering the various colors of alchemy, that doesn’t seem far off. It does, of course, make me want to scan the book for color. I won’t do that, but if someone wants to, here are the main alchemical colors:
Is the copy Bast owns the one originally owned by Caudicus?
I like the originally owned by Caudicus thing. That’d be funny.
— Connor Hathaway
I have my reasons on that one, but we’ll get to that.
Also: why is there no such thing as only one scraeling? Why do they travel in packs?
Scrael could be automatons following a hive mind for a single purpose?
— Connor Hathaway
Is the Cthaeh a fungus?
“They took it to the priest. He did all the right things for all the wrong reasons.”
Phrases like this drive me nuts in this book. It’s exceedingly rare that someone does all the right things, for starters. Or all the wrong things. Or for someone to have all the right reasons or all the wrong reasons. But do do all the right things for all the wrong reasons seems rather rich to me. It’s overstatement in two directions at once, as good as demonizing the other. It pisses me off because it reads as historically and philosophically ignorant to me.
Of course, Kvothe is quite foolish.
You see who and what religious people Pat has respect for when K meets Trapis (Pats mom stayed at a Trappist monastery for some time). I think it gets to a fine James 1:27 illustration and to me reads more of his view on institutional stagnation and frustration, but he hits all of the silly tropes, and if we get there, never more than in Ademre with the man-mothers silliness.
— Connor Hathaway.
Anywho.
I do wonder at the significance of Rowan wood. For instance:
“Three-quarters of the stories folk told about me at the University were ridiculous rumors I’d started myself. I spoke eight languages. I could see in the dark. When I was three days old, my mother hung me in a basket from a rowan tree by the light of the full moon. That night a faerie laid a powerful charm on me to always keep me safe. It turned my eyes from blue to leafy green. I knew how stories worked, you see. Nobody believed that I’d traded a cupped handful of my own fresh blood to a demon in exchange for an Alar like a blade of Ramston steel. But still, I was the highest ranked duelist in Dal’s class. On a good day, I could beat any two of them together.”
Well if the Cthaeh tree is made of rowan and the full moon is whom he sought and it did give him safety, well…
As for the demon, that could be Devi. Or she could be a bit demon.
Or it could be something else entirely.
“It might as well be a demon” the scrael — the difference, again, is completely elided in this chapter. And it’s true of them as well. “Begone demon” etc.
Why is Kote the only one who can or will teach Bast?
Is it because he’s a Bastard of an alternate royalty and only half fae? Or at least partly human?
Well, again, if my assumptions that Felurian / Denna / Auri / Lyra are the various shattered personalities of the moon as she’s literally getting yanked back and forth from sky to sky after centuries of rape and abuse, then in that case Bast is as much a child of Denna and Auri as he is of Felurian.
Consider:
Especially if you believe, as I do, that he’s telling the story because he’s worried Chronicler — and others — won’t get it right about Denna / Auri. And the least he can do now, as the villain, is tell the story right that Denna wanted told all along.
In that case “Tehus antausa eha” is something like God damn you. If Tehlu is one of the names for the role of Haliax, then it’s literally Kvothe (assuming he took on the shadow’s hame) saying “I damn you,” which is funny and why Bast flips him off.
“Aroi de denna-leyan” parallels the skin dancer’s phrase “Te varaiyn aroi Seathaloi vei mela.” I’m assuming here that aroi is like “around” like “ringed” or “hemmed.” So in the latter case, I would translate the later as “Are you based in the ring of Selitos or the Mael?” Could be “of the,” which I personally kind of prefer.
Assuming that, the later things in chapter 88: “Te-tauren sciyrloet? Amauen.” Would be something like, “Aren’t you a scribe? Listen.” He expects Chronicler to be able to comprehend him.
“Rhintae?” — Chandrian, or similarly cursed, considering the Adem. He’s categorizing the people in the room.
Anyways, back to the phrase:
“Aroi de denna-leyan”
Seems Kvothe banishes Bast to the ring of dennerlings, the lowest of the low.
It hurts because Bast is a bastard. And he’s already out the out in Fae society.
But if he’s also Kvothe’s bastard, if my assumptions are correct, then it’s really rough. Why?
Because if Felurian is Denna by virtue of the moon’s phases, Bast is also Denna’s child. Strictly speaking, he’s not merely a dennerling as in the little fae creatures made from flings with Felurian. Or the weak children of Felurian.
He’s rather royalty by another line. Kvothe’s,
But calling him a dennerling — indeed banishing him to that realm — is a royal and sociological insult on the order of a racial slur coming from the mouth of his own father, either surrogate or literal.
Moving on…
Thrice locked. Lock of iron to keep out the fae. Lock of copper to keep out namers. Lock that could not be seen to keep out Tehlu’s folk, but I’m willing to bet it’s silver.
Something like that. There are three major categories: human, fae, and the realm of the dead. Those are the locks.
“This was not a place for demons” is how folks think of Nowhere. But Kvothe, Bast, and the scrael are there, demons. “He was from out of town.”
Again, this seems to me to be setting up a witch burning. Demon, specifically.
And Kvothe is going to be on the pyre.
Other questions that came up this chapter:
1. Is comparing the dead horse to a lamb intended to be sacerdotal in the angnal mode?
2. Is the “pair of pennies” — in several mythologies meant to convey the tax for ferrying to the realm of the dead — supposed to imply that the “folks killing for a pair” are killing for the tax back and forth from the realm of the dead? Especially next to the “let alone a horse and cart” ?
3. If the inside of the scrael is like fungus, is it a stone fungus? Is the entirety of scrael society a sort of mold? Is it “the blight” that Pale Alenta brings? The dark side of the moon? Persephone of another kind?
4. If Taborlin called fire and lightning to destroy demons and if (per earlier) he’s a Chandrian, does that mean that lightning destroys Chandrian? That he took said demon’s place?
See this as K calling lightning at the bandit camp in WMF
— Connor Hathaway
Yes, and there’s also the Baldyr mythos I keep referring back to: that tree now sympathetically contains the lighting that struck it (like mistletoe) and could, in theory, be wielded again.
5. Burning hair smell from the iron is keratin (hooves, claws, scales) and rotting flowers is either fungal or lignin. From the iron confirm of the “demon”
6. He knows the names of all the stars on a night with no moon. Is a night with no moon terrifying because names are all present? Because you can see more stars? Are stars dead bodies of former beings? Are they — like many of the things in The Fae — actually personifications in the same way that “Summer” is a place and so on?
7. Why do the scrael travel in packs?
8. Dig pit, rowan, long and hot, piece as a souvenir? Will this return if they try to burn Kvothe?
9. What does Tehus antausa eha mean? I’m guessing “Tehlu watch over me” ?
10. What does Aroi te denna-leyan mean? Another guess, though I prefer the above, if Aura means “sun” and avoi means “I want” or “I look” from the skin changer; if “te” means “you” and denna-leyan means denner-ling, then a few things — (a) it could mean “Sun upon you moonling” as it was a night with no moon that brought them. (B) if so, then denner resin has a connection to moon creatures and moon magic and (c) Denna’s name, as I said, literally just means “moon.” Again, priest of Diana mythos again.
Of course a ring that’s not for wearing could be that kind of social ring.
Or it could be literal, like a sun ring:
A universal equinoctial ring dial.
Or, better yet, a “farmer’s ring” or “sun ring” —
A sunring or farmer’s ring is a latitude-specific simplification of astronomical rings. On one-piece sunrings, the time and month scale is marked on the inside of the ring; a sunbeam passing through a hole in the ring lights a point on this scale. Newer sunrings are often made in two parts, one of which slides to set the month; they are usually less accurate.
This is the ring that’s not for wearing, friends.
“Be ringed, ye Denna spawn.”
Has all kinds of potential hurtful meanings for a kid like Bast out of the mouth of the King of Threshing.
Navigate to other chapters:
I’ll put this at the end of each chapter so we can actually navigate the text
- Name of the Wind Analysis — Prologue
- Name of the Wind Analysis — Chapter 1
- Name of the Wind Analysis — Chapter 2
- Name of the Wind Analysis — Chapter 3
- Name of the Wind Analysis — Chapter 4
- Name of the Wind Analysis — Chapter 5
- Name of the Wind Analysis — Chapter 6
- Name of the Wind Analysis — Chapter 7
- Name of the Wind Analysis — Chapter 8
- Name of the Wind Analysis — Chapter 9
- Name of the Wind Analysis — Chapter 10
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