Just how COOL is Artagel?---spoilers

"Reflect" on Stephen Donaldson's other epic fantasy

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Post by Skyweir »

Nice critiques Cordy 😁 youre right, a very cool dude, good to have in a sticky bind.

Geraden quality shines even more, not being as naturally confident or physically as capable as Artagel but because hes much sharper intellectually. 😏 Which fact is overlooked by many.
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Post by Cord Hurn »

Skyweir wrote:Nice critiques Cordy 😁 youre right, a very cool dude, good to have in a sticky bind.

Geraden quality shines even more, not being as naturally confident or physically as capable as Artagel but because hes a much sharper intellectually. 😏 Which fact is overlooked by many.
My thanks to you for the compliment, Sky! Geraden's qualities were certainly underappreciated by many in the Congery. However, I don't think Master Eremis ever underestimated Geraden's intelligence--which made things more dangerous for Geraden. And yes, despite Artagel's admirable qualities, he is intellectually no match for his younger brother Geraden.
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Post by Skyweir »

Yes Eremis was a cunning sort, he saw straight through Geraden.. and he saw the vulnerabilities of Teresa. He knew how to use people to his advantage and precisely how to play with them, their emotions and he played Teresa like a fiddle. Eremis, like many narcissistic personas, entitled, charming, a conversation dominator, self involved, driven and a boundary violator. Not a fan 😏
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Post by shadowbinding shoe »

I've got a suspicion Artagel pretends to be more simple than he really is. Late in A Man Rides Through Artagel was reprimanded (by the king?) for clinging to his military career and risking his life time after time instead of becoming a ruler. We should assume that wasn't the first time the subject was raised. Artagel enjoyed the freedom and renown his superb swordsmanship allowed him. He didn't want to get bogged down in an office job or have responsibility for the lives and deaths of others which follows high rank be it civilian or military.

It's true Artagel is a straight shooter kind of guy. Most of the Domne boys are. They're still damn well insightful in their own ways (Minnick, Stead I suppose) But we can see his hidden capabilities for example when he draws Lebbick out of his shell after he holed up in his rooms or how he dispelled a brewing diplomatic incident when he encountered Terisa, Kragen and the lords in the dungeons. He handled command of the capitol while the army marched against Eremis and the Cadwals with ease.

We only see it in connection with Terisa but during the long years King Joyce mishandled the kingdom before she came, being a free agent was probably very beneficial. He could ignore the bad orders the King would give through his castellan and help the kingdom as he saw fit. The immense popularity he achieved is a hint that he wasn't just the best swordsman in the kingdom. He roamed the kingdom helping it.
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shadowbinding shoe wrote:I've got a suspicion Artagel pretends to be more simple than he really is. Late in A Man Rides Through Artagel was reprimanded (by the king?) for clinging to his military career and risking his life time after time instead of becoming a ruler. We should assume that wasn't the first time the subject was raised. Artagel enjoyed the freedom and renown his superb swordsmanship allowed him. He didn't want to get bogged down in an office job or have responsibility for the lives and deaths of others which follows high rank be it civilian or military.

It's true Artagel is a straight shooter kind of guy. Most of the Domne boys are. They're still damn well insightful in their own ways (Minnick, Stead I suppose) But we can see his hidden capabilities for example when he draws Lebbick out of his shell after he holed up in his rooms or how he dispelled a brewing diplomatic incident when he encountered Terisa, Kragen and the lords in the dungeons. He handled command of the capitol while the army marched against Eremis and the Cadwals with ease.

We only see it in connection with Terisa but during the long years King Joyce mishandled the kingdom before she came, being a free agent was probably very beneficial. He could ignore the bad orders the King would give through his castellan and help the kingdom as he saw fit. The immense popularity he achieved is a hint that he wasn't just the best swordsman in the kingdom. He roamed the kingdom helping it.
You make a strong case, shadowbindingshoe! I'm reassessing my estimate of Artagel's intelligence, now.
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Post by Skyweir »

Yes I think you make a very pertinent point that did need making SBS

Perhaps the flawed approach is comparing one Domne boy to another. I will say Artagel was certainly driven by his sense of honour and rightness.
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The following passage gives some evidence that Artagel has a sharper mind than he claims. After Terisa's visit to Eremis in the dungeon, Artagel guesses what Eremis charged Terisa to do, in the broad sense of not trusting Geraden (Eremis actually asks Terisa to spy on Geraden and report what she observes). However, Artagel seems to be easily diverted by Terisa.
In TMOHD Chapter 17 was wrote:For a moment, her throat refused to work. Then she whispered, "Artagel."

"Speak louder, my lady," Master Eremis suggested with cold mirth. "I doubt that he can hear you."

Louder.

"Artagel. I'm done." A croak in the back of her throat.

He wants me to betray Geraden.

Like a flowing shadow, Artagel appeared past the edge of the cell and reached the door. Then the door was open. "My lady," he murmured, offering her his hand, his arm.

With the Master's silence behind her like a wall, she moved to accept Artagel's support.

He moved her out of the cell, paused almost negligently to relock the door, then took her down the passage, out of sight of Master Eremis' imprisonment.

"My lady," he growled as soon as they were beyond hearing, "are you all right? What did he say to you?"

The concern in his voice was so quick and true--so much like his brother--that her knees grew weak, and she stumbled.

Sickness and shame. Desire and dismay. Master Eremis was right: she could not forget the touch of his lips and tongue; she was his; he could do anything he wanted with her. But what he wanted--! To spy on the person she most needed to trust, the man whose smile lifted her heart. To betray--

Artagel held her. "Terisa." His eyes were bright and extreme. "What did that bastard say to you?"

It hurt. She could have cried out in simple protest. But that would ruin everything. He was Geraden's brother. Despite his concern, the light in his eyes and murderous half-smile on his lips, she couldn't tell him what was wring. If she did, he would tell Geraden. She understood that clearly. He might be willing to keep one or two things secret from Castellan Lebbick for her sake, but he wouldn't keep secrets from Geraden.

To speak to him now would be the coward's way to betray Master Eremis, to withdraw her allegiance and aid, her new passion, without having the courage to face Geraden and admit that she preferred his friendship to Eremis' love for no better reason than because she wasn't brave enough to do otherwise.

With an effort, she found her balance and took her weight on her legs, easing the urgency of Artagel's grasp. "I'm sorry." When he let go of her arms, she pushed her hand through her hair. "I guess I really haven't recovered from yesterday."

"Are you sure that's it?" Artagel's concern made his voice rough. "You were better before you went in there. You look like Eremis just tried to rape you."

He was so far from the truth, that she let out a giggle.

That didn't reassure him, however. Her giggle sounded ominously hysterical. And she had trouble making it stop.

She would have to give him a more cogent explanation if she wanted to deflect his alarm. "I'm sorry," she repeated. Still giggling--and fighting it. "I don't know what's come over me. I've just had a lesson in humility.

"I told you I wanted to see if I could make people start talking to each other." Abruptly, the artificial mirth ran out of her, and she found herself close to tears. "That's going to be a lot harder than I thought."

For a moment, he studied her sharply. then he took her hand, drew it through his arm to comfort her, and moved her again in the direction of the guardroom. "Don't worry about it, my lady. It was worth trying. It's still worth trying. Master Eremis just"--his smile was perhaps a shade too fierce to offer much consolation--"isn't very promising material to work with."

In an effort to distract him, she asked, "Is it true that you and he used to be friends? Before Geraden turned you against him?"

He shrugged. "Sort of. Not really. I was never actually able to like him, but I didn't have any reason for the way I felt, so I kept it to myself." He glanced at her. "Geraden understands these things better than I do. And he knows Eremis a lot better. You ought to talk to him about it."

She didn't meet his gaze. "You trust Geraden completely, don't you."

Without hesitation, he replied, "He's my brother."

"Is that the only reason?"

Her question made him chuckle. "No, my lady, that's not the only reason. It's at least two reasons--experience and blood. We have five other brothers, you know. I've watched him with all of them." Then his face darkened, and he turned her so that she had to look at him. "My lady, does Eremis think you shouldn't trust Geraden?"

Kicking herself, she countered, "That isn't what I meant. I don't know if you realize what a strange position you're in. As far as I can tell, you're the only person in Orison everybody trusts. Even Master Eremis wants you on his side." Her unexpected facility for lies--for using parts of the truth to disguise other parts--amazed and frightened her. "I want to know why you trust Geraden because I'm trying to understand you"

Apparently, he believed her explanation; but he still didn't know how to respond. After an awkward moment, he said in a tone of deliberate foolishness, as if her question embarrassed him. "It's clean living, my lady. Nobody trusts anybody who overindulges in clean living. I'm more dissolute than practically everybody else, so I'm easier to trust."

His reply was clearly intended as a joke, but she accepted it simply to get away from his seriousness. "I never thought about it that way," she murmured as she let him guide her down the corridor to the guardroom.



From the guardroom, they returned to the ballroom and the main halls of Orison. Now she wanted him to leave her; she couldn't go on talking to him and still keep her emotions hidden. With frustrating gallantry, however, he insisted on escorting her most of the way toward her rooms. She was unable to detach herself from his attendance until they reached the tower that held her rooms. After thanking him abruptly, she hurried up the stairs as if she were fleeing from him.

But of course what she really fled from was the danger he represented--the danger that she would betray the choice she had to make before she was sure of it. She had said yes to Master Eremis, and yes again; but the illness in her stomach was getting worse. Artagel bore just enough resemblance to Geraden--and she had been just dishonest enough with him--to make what the Imager wanted of her vivid and appalling.

Pretend friendship.

Watch him.

Tell him nothing.


She feared she would throw up before she reached safety.
It can be true that Artagel is smarter than he presents himself to be, and still not be as intelligent as Geraden. Artagel's guess that Eremis tried to rape Terisa is way off the mark, to give an example. And his joke about "clean living" wasn't really very witty. He's still a cool character, though, being both courageous and compassionate.
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Post by samrw3 »

I admit it has been years since I have read these books so my memory is a little rusty. However, my thinking is that Artagel just never had enough dedication to sit down and ponder things. He seemed to be more of impulsive person.

Just in the exchange above Artagel does not question Terisa more. He does not take the time to ponder her answers.
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Post by Avatar »

Agree that he tends more toward the impulsive...leaping into action and all that seems more his style. :D

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Post by Cord Hurn »

Going back to when Artagel first gets Terisa admittance into the dungeon, I want to note that Artagel isn't above bullying people to get what he wants. This could serve the people of the kingdom well when he applies such bullying pressure to thieves and ruffians roaming through Mordant who are posing threats to the law-abiding citizens. But here, he just seems to be relishing his ability to intimidate people.
In Chapter 17 of [i]The Mirror Of Her Dreams[/i] was wrote:Artagel frowned at what he saw, then changed his expression to an insouciant smile. His eyes glittering, he said to no one in particular, "What a collection of slovens and aleheads. I could walk every prisoner you have through this room singing, and you wouldn't notice until the Castellan locked you in irons."

Glaring with surprise, irritation, and stupidity, everyone who was awake turned toward him.

When the guards recognized him, however, their hostility vanished. Expressions of gruff humor stretched their faces. Several of them guffawed hoarsely, and one riposted, "That's true. Who cares about prisoners? But just try getting that woman past us."

_______________________________________________________________

Then one of the dicers rose to his feet. A purple band knotted around his right bicep marked him as a captain of some kind. "Take it easy, you louts," he drawled. "Unless I'm confused in my old age, Artagel's companion is the lady Terisa of Morgan. She isn't one of Master Eremis' toys--or yours, either.

"My lady"--he gave Terisa a decent bow--"don't look so worried. You aren't in as much danger as you think. Artagel can unman half the rubbish here before they get their hands on their swords. And Castellan Lebbick would feed the other half to the pigs just for touching an unwilling woman."

Artagel's answering smile made the captain straighten his shoulders. In a more rigid manner, he asked, "What can I do for you?"

She had no idea how to respond, but her companion replied easily. "The lady Terisa is taking a tour of Orison. She wants to see the dungeon."

The guard with the armband hesitated; his eyes narrowed. "The Castellan isn't going to like that."

Artagel's smile stretched wider. "The Castellan isn't going to hear about it."

Terisa was holding her breath. She felt rather than saw the men around her stiffen.

"If he does," the captain observed slowly, "you won't be the one who gets eaten alive. I will."

"That's probably true." Artagel seemed to enjoy himself more and more by the minute. "But there's one consolation. You'll be safe from me. Whoever tells Lebbick we were here won't be that lucky."

For a moment, Artagel and the guard captain measured each other. By degrees, the guard's expression changed until it resembled Artagel's threatening grin. He unhooked a ring of keys from his belt and tossed it to Terisa's companion. "I don't have any idea why you want to talk to Master Eremis. I don't want to know. Just don't let him out."

"'Talk to Master Eremis'?" Artagel was gleaming. "You aren't serious. I would rather lie down in a nest of snakes."

"That's a mistake," someone chortled. "There aren't any women in a nest of snakes."

All the men laughed--with the exception of the guard honing his blade, who frowned as though the people around him spoke a foreign language.

Artagel jangled the keys. "We'll be back soon." Then he said to Terisa, "Come, my lady," as though she weren't clinging tightly to his arm. Together, they crossed to the doorway which led to the corridors and cells of the dungeon.

Beyond the guardroom, she asked softly, "Would you really kill somebody who betrayed us?"

"Of course not," he replied negligently. "That's why we're safe. If they were really afraid of me, someone would talk."

For some reason, his tone didn't carry conviction.
Why doesn't Artagel's tone carry conviction here? Perhaps Artagel's tone didn't carry conviction because he is actually one of the few people in the kingdom (along with the King, Havelock, Lebbick, and the Lords) who could decide to do away with someone and get away with it when his action became public knowledge. I'm not sure about this, particularly when we're talking about one of Lebbick's guards--but it seems to me that Artagel used intimidation here.
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Post by samrw3 »

There may be a certain degree of bullying - but my read of it is more like good old boys type feeling. They almost felt like Artagel was one of them.

Also, they probably didn't think that Artagel leading a woman into a guarded dungeon was much of a threat. Plus they knew that Artagel wouldn't tell anyone so there was little threat that they would get into trouble.
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Post by shadowbinding shoe »

Artagel and Eremis are mirror images in some ways. Artagel the poster-boy good guy enjoys playing the villain on rare occasions (*) though as he says it's merely skin deep. The guards' easy laughter as soon as they recognize him tells us as much. Likewise Eremis finds it immensely amusing to fool everyone, Terisa in particular, and play the hero.


(*) He's mainly drawn to the concept of freedom, not the twisted sadistic tendencies of Eremis.
I'm not saying Artagel is harmless but I doubt he'd kill a loyal guardsman just for tattleteling on him. He needs to be at least a little convincing though if he wants his threat to work and making Terisa believe it is part of that imo.
A little knowledge is still better than no knowledge.
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samrw3 wrote:There may be a certain degree of bullying - but my read of it is more like good old boys type feeling. They almost felt like Artagel was one of them.

Also, they probably didn't think that Artagel leading a woman into a guarded dungeon was much of a threat. Plus they knew that Artagel wouldn't tell anyone so there was little threat that they would get into trouble.
shadowbindingshoe wrote:rtagel and Eremis are mirror images in some ways. Artagel the poster-boy good guy enjoys playing the villain on rare occasions (*) though as he says it's merely skin deep. The guards' easy laughter as soon as they recognize him tells us as much. Likewise Eremis finds it immensely amusing to fool everyone, Terisa in particular, and play the hero.


(*) He's mainly drawn to the concept of freedom, not the twisted sadistic tendencies of Eremis.
I'm not saying Artagel is harmless but I doubt he'd kill a loyal guardsman just for tattleteling on him. He needs to be at least a little convincing though if he wants his threat to work and making Terisa believe it is part of that imo.
Agreed that the guards probably weren't too worried about Artagel ratting them out, and that Artagel probably wouldn't kill a member of the guard for tattling on him (I wonder what he WOULD do, though?).
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Avatar wrote:Agree that he tends more toward the impulsive...leaping into action and all that seems more his style. :D

--A
In a way, that's one of the fun things about him as a character.
In Chapter 19 of [i]The Mirror Of Her Dreams[/i] was wrote:"Gart!" a man barked.

The shout turned the juggler away from her.

"Don't tell me," drawled Artagel as he sauntered forward, grinning sharply, "that the High King's Monomach can't find a worthier opponent than an unarmed woman. I've already warned you about that."

"Do you think yourself worthy?" the man in black hissed like silk. "I already know you are not."

Artagel kicked a table aside. Almost in the same motion, he jumped to the attack.

Gart wheeled and leveled a blow like the cut of an axe at Terisa.

His swing was hard enough to split her in half. Fortunately, Artagel anticipated Gart's move. He came around the other side of the tent pole in time to parry the blow and save her.

Then he was between her and the High King's Monomach.

The tent was deserted now except for Terisa and the two combatants. Their boots ground beads and lace into the mud as they probed and riposted. Their blades struck sparks from each other, a darkened and baleful version of the sunlit dance of stars. She could hear Artagel's harsh breathing: he sounded as though he hadn't fully recovered from the dmage to his lungs. Gart's respiration was so firm and even that it made no noise.

Attack. Parry. The clangor of iron.

Artagel had trouble with the tables. They hampered his strokes, interfered with his parries: they caught his feeet so that he nearly fell. His movements were tight with strain. Gart, on the opther hand, seemed to float among the obstacles as if he had placed them where they were to suit his training and experience.

Bracing herself on the tent pole, Terisa climbed upright. Her hands were slippery with blood. Where had it come from? Probably from her cheek. Artagel was going to get killed because of her. Because of her. she wanted to run away. That was the only thing she could do. If she distracted Gart by running away, Artagel might have a chance. But the High King's Monomach stayed so close to the opening of the tent that she couldn't escape. She would have cried out; but the ringing clash of iron and the hoarse rasp of Artagel's breath made every other sound impossible.

As it happened, she didn't need to cry out. Roaring like maddened bulls, Argus and Ribuld charged out of sunlight into the gloom of the tent.

Even if she had known what to watch for, she might not have seen how Gart saved himself. It was too fast. Perhaps he took advantage of the moment their eyes needed to adjust. All she knew was that she heard him snarl as he whirled and met Argus and Ribuld with a blow which somehow forced then to recoil separately, away from each other.

Artagel sprang after him.

Too wild, too desperate. Off balance.

Gart met that onslaught also, caught and held Artagel's blade on his, then slipped it aside and swept his own steel in a slicing cut that laid open Artagel's side and brought blood spurting between his ribs.

Gasping, he staggered to one knee.

That was all the time Ribuld and Argus needed to recover and attack again. Still Gart was too quick for them. Before they could hit him, he leaped for the tent pole--vaulting over the blow Artagel aimed at his legs--and dealt a high cut to the rope that pulled the canvas up the pole.

Then he dove and rolled for the opening, passing as slick as oil between Argus and Ribuld while the tent came down on their heads.

The wet, heavy canvas pushed Terisa into the mud again. She groveled there, smothering slowly. In her mind, Gart's blade bit into Artagel's side and the dark blood flowed. She hardly heard the clamor of the onlookers as the High King's Monomach made his escape.
Their blades struck sparks from each other, a darkened and baleful version of the sunlit dance of stars. Great description, and a great scene altogether.
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The cost of Artagel's impulsive brave, swashbuckling life is shockingly apparent when we see him recovering from his second fight with Gart.
In Chapter 20 of [i]The Mirror Of Her Dreams[/i] was wrote:Artagel's quarters were in a part of Orison she had only visited once during Geraden's tour--a vast warren of rooms built every which way around and on top of each other. She wouldn't have taken it for the castle's equivalent of a barracks if she and Geraden hadn't seen interspersed among the rooms the obviously military halls where the guards mustered. From the look of the place, she guessed that each man had at best one room to himself; the larger rooms were probably shared. Artagel, however, had a modest suite--a bedroom, sitting room, pantry, and lavatory which together took up less space than her bedroom.

Most of the suite was unadorned, almost unfurnished: its occupant apparently didn't spend enough time in Orison to care about his rooms. Or perhaps his sense of home was focused exclusively on Houseldon. Whatever the reason, his quarters contained only one piece of decoration--a long rack, stretching across two walls of the sitting room, from which hung a clutter of variously snapped and shattered swords.

"They're all blades that failed him," Geraden whispered in explanation as he led her toward the bedroom.

There Artagel lay on an austere bed, a simple wooden frame with strips of cloth woven across it to support a pallet. He had no fireplace, and the air was cool. In addition, he was naked to the waist, except for the bindings wrapped around his middle. Nevertheless sweat streaked his skin, and his eyes smoldered darkly, like secret fires.

Geraden had warned her that he was feverish but she was still taken aback to see him grinning as though he were about to go down under Gart's next attack.

She had rehearsed a speech for him, wanting to thank him, but it failed her. There was no fat on him: all his muscles were outlined clearly under his skin. And the sweat emphasized his scars, making them catch the light differently so that she couldn't ignore them. He had been cut and cut-- Part of his chest looked like someone had once struck a pole through it, and he hadn't been able to grow enough tissue to refill the wound. And under his bandages was another wound.

Her eyes spilled tears, making him a blur of reflected lamplight. "I'm sorry. I don't know why he wants to kill me. I swear I don't know why he wants to kill me."

"My lady." His eyes glittered through the blur, and his voice sounded like his eyes. "Your cheek is almost healed. That's good. When he hit you, I couldn't see how bad it was. I thought I was too late. Then this idiot"--he was referring to Geraden--"jumped him and nearly got his neck broken. I thought you were both lost. I'm glad you've got quick reflexes."

While Terisa blinked her vision clear, he added, "I've been practicing that counter he used on me. I think I know what to do about it now."

"If you ever get the chance to find out," Geraden put in gruffly, "I'm going to tie you down until it's all over. That way, we won't have to find out whether he can beat you three times in a row. I can't stand the suspense."

Artagel's smile looked like the fire in his gaze. "That's the trouble with you. You don't have any confidence in me."

Geraden wasn't having a good day. For a moment, Terisa feared he might lose his grip on himself. But somehow he managed to smile back at his brother. "Oh, shut up," he muttered in a thick growl. "You're breaking my heart."

"You heard him, my lady." Unexpectedly, Artagel began falling asleep. "If you wake up one morning and find yourself dead, with me tied up on the floor beside you, you'll know what happened. No confidence." He closed his eyes, and a subtle tension faded out of him.

She and Geraden left him to rest.
Artagel's spirit has that fatal flaw that Geraden has no trouble identifying: Artagel refuses to believe that there's a fighter like Gart that he cannot best. I'd be worried for Artagel, too, if I were Geraden.
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The last time we see Artagel in TMOHD is after Nyle is captured.
In Chapter 22 of [i]The Mirror Of Her Dreams[/i] was wrote:When Castellan Lebbick shifted to one side of the passage; however, and the guards took the other, she saw that the man lying in the litter wasn't Nyle.

"Artagel!" Geraden cried in relief and consternation. "You're supposed to be in bed."

The guards stopped, and Artagel hitched himself up on one elbow.

"What're you doing here?" snapped the Castellan. "This is none of your business. I've already lost one man today [the guard Argus], along with my best chance to catch Margonal's pigslime son. I don't need you bleeding to death on top of my other problems."

"Are you all right?" Geraden put in. Suddenly, he had so much to say that it all tried to tumble out at once. "There was no other way I could stop him. I couldn't talk him out of it. He saved us. He could have let us be killed, but he didn't. It makes me sick. I hit--" His voice caught; he couldn't go on. His whole face burned for Artagel's forgiveness.

But Artagel didn't glance at Geraden. "He's my brother," he replied to the Castellan in a voice like a dry husk. He looked like he had suffered a relapse of fever; his mouth had lost its humor, and his eyes glittered like polished stones. "I had to see him."

One of the guards shrugged against the weight of the litter. "We couldn't talk him out of it, Castellan. He was going to walk if we didn't carry him."

Castellan Lebbick ignored the guards. Facing Artagel, he demanded, "What did he say?"

With surprising strength, Artagel reached out, caught at Lebbick's sash, pulled the Castellan closer to him. "He told me the truth. He got into this because he loves that crazy woman [Elega]. And because he thinks it's right. Somebody has got to save Mordant. He thinks Margonal is our only chance." Staring at him, Terisa understood that he wasn't angry. He grinned when he was angry. No, what he felt now was closer to despair. "She talked to him about everything in the world except her part in Kragen's plans. He doesn't know where she is, or what she's going to do."

On the other hand, Castellan Lebbick was angry enough for both of them. "Do you expect me to believe that?"

"Artagel?" Geraden insisted. "Artagel?"

Artagel met the Castellan's glare. Slowly, he let go of the sash and eased himself onto his back in the litter. "I don't care whether you believe me or not. I don't even care if you torture him. He's a son of the Domne. No matter what you do, this is going to kill my father."

Geraden raised a hand and clamped it around his mouth to keep himself still.

The Castellan drew himself up. His face showed no softening. Nevertheless he said, "All right. I'll try believing him for a while and see what happens."

For the first time, Artagel turned his eyes to Geraden. The angle of the light from the one lantern filled his face with shadows.

Geraden flinched. Terisa had never seen him look more like a puppy cringing because he had offended someone he loved and didn't know what to do about it. He needed understanding, if not forgiveness, needed some kind of consolation from his brother.

He didn't get it.

"You're the smart one of the family." Artagel's voice was still as dry as fever. "You find that woman and stop her. If you don't--and she betrays us--I swear to you I'm not going to let Margonal's men in here, no matter who tells me to surrender. I'll fight them all if I have to."

In response, Geraden's face twisted as if he were about to throw up.

"Oh, get him out of here," Castellan Lebbick rasped to the guards. "Put him back in bed. Tie him down if you have to. Then call his physician. This air is making him crazy. Right now he couldn't fight a pregnant cripple."

"Yes, Castellan." The guards settled their shoulders into the load and took Artagel in the direction of the guardroom.
I doubt that Artagel is being intentionally cruel to Geraden; he is just determined to balance out his brother Nyle's betrayal by giving his life in a refusal to surrender, if he sees it as needed. I'm not sure that in this feverish state of mind that Artagel is really aware of the added stress that he is giving Geraden.
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The most disappointing moment from Artagel, when he can actually believe that Geraden would murder Nyle.
In [i]A Man Rides Through[/i] Chapter 29 was wrote:She couldn't lift the whole weight of Mordant's need by herself. She was hardly able to lift her head off the lumpy pallet which served as her mattress. The Tor had seen Nyle's body. Geraden's brother was unquestionably dead.

Why should she bother to eat? What was the point?

Maybe if she got hungry enough, she would regain the ability to let go of her own existence.

She tried to sleep--tried to relax so that the tension and reality would flow out of her muscles--but another set of boots stumbled toward her down the corridor. Just one: someone was coming in her direction alone. A slow, limping stride, hesitant or frail. She didn't want to know who it was. She didn't want to be distracted.

For the first time, he called her by her name.

"Terisa."

It wasn't a good omen.

Startled, she raised her head and saw Geraden's brother at the door of her cell.

"Artagel?"

He wore a nightshirt and breeches--clothes which seemed to increase his family resemblance to Greaden and Nyle because they weren't right for a swordsman. His dress and his way of standing as if someone had just stuck a knife in his side made it clear that he was still supposed to be in bed. He had been too weak yesterday--was it really only yesterday?--to support Geraden in front of the Congery. Obviously, he was too weak to walk around in the dungeon alone today.

Yet he was here.

It was definitely not a good omen that he had called her Terisa.

Forgetting her own lack of strength, she swung her legs off the cot and went toward him. "Oh, Artagel, I'm so glad to see you, I'm in so much trouble, I need you, I need a friend, Artagel, they think Geraden killed Nyle, they--"

His pallor stopped her. The sweat of strain on his forehead and the tremor of pain in his mouth stopped her. His eyes were glazed, as if he were about to lose consciousness. Gart, the High King's Monomach, had wounded him severely, and he drove himself into relapses by struggling out of bed when he should have been resting. The fact that Gart had beaten him; Nyle's treasonous alliance with Prince Kragen and the lady Elega; the accusations against Geraden; things like that tormented the Domne's most famous son, goading him to fight his weakness--and his recovery.

"Artagel," she groaned, "you shouldn't be here. You should be in bed. You're making yourself sick again."

"No." The word came out like a gurgle. With one arm, he clamped his other hand against his side. "No." Because he was too sick to remain standing without help, he leaned on the door, pressing his forehead against the bars. The dullness in his eyes made him look like he was going blind. "This is your doing."

She halted: pain went through her like a burn. "Artage?" There were, after all, more kinds of pain in the world than she would ever have guessed. Except for Geraden, Artagel was the best friend she had. She would have trusted him without question. "You don't mean that." He thought she was responsible? "You can't."

"I didn't mean to say it." He was having trouble with his respiration. His breath seemed to struggle past an obstruction in his chest. "That isn't why I'm here. Lebbick is going to take care of you. I just want to know where Geraden is.

"I'm going to hunt him down and cut his heart out."

Suddenly, she was filled with a desire to wail or weep. It would have done her good to cry out. But this was too important. Somehow, she kept her cry down. Panting because the cell was too small and if she didn't get more air soon she was going to fail, she protested, "No. Eremis did this. It's a trick. I tell you, it's a trick. The Tor says he's seen the body, and Nyle is really dead, but I don't believe it. Geraden didn't have anything to do with this."

"Ah!" Artagel gasped as if he were hurt and furious. "Don't lie to me. Don't lie to me anymore." Now his eyes were clear and hot, bright with passion or fever. "I've seen the body myself."

And while she reeled inside herself, he continued, "After Geraden stabbed him, he was still alive. That much is true Eremis rushed him to his own rooms and got a physician for him. That was his only chance to stay alive. Eremis got him that chance. Then Eremis put guards on him--inside the room and outside the door. In case Geraden tried again.

"It didn't work." Artagel's forehead seemed to bulge between the bars; he might have been trying to break his skull. "Lebbick found them. The guards were killed. Some kind of beast fed off them. Geraden must have translated something into the room--something they couldn't fight.

"Nyle was killed. It chewed his face off."

Just for a second, that image struck her so horribly that she wailed. Oh, Nyle! Oh, my God. Visceral revulsion churned inside her, and her hands leaped to cover her mouth. Geraden, no!

She should have gone with him. To prevent all this.

But then she saw iron and anguish, and Geraden came back to her. She knew him. And she loved him. Terisa, I did not kill my brother. Without warning, she was asngry. Years of outrage which she had stored away in the secret places of her heart abruptly sprang out, touching her with fire.

"Say that again," she breathed, panted. "Go on. Say it."

Artagel was beyond the reach of surprise. Baring his teeth in a sanarl, he repeated, "Nyle was killed. The beast chewed his face off."

"And you believe Geraden did that?" She lashed her protest at him. "Are you out of your mind? Has everybody in this whole place gone crazy?"

He blinked dumbly; for one brief moment, he seemed to regard her in a different light. Almost at once, however, his own horror returned. His legs were failing. Slowly, he began to slip down the bars.

"I saw his body. I held it. I've still got his blood on my clothes."

That was true. Her lamp was bright enough to reveal the dried stains on his nightshirt.

"I don't care." She was too angry to imagine what the experience had been like for him--to hold his own brother's outraged corpse in his arms and have no way to bring the body back to life. "Geraden is your brother. You've known him all his life. You know him better than that."

Artagel continued slipping. His side hurt too much: apparently, he couldn't use his hands. She reached through the bars and grabbed his nightshirt to support him somehow; but he was too heavy for her. Finally he bent his legs and caught his weight on his knees. "I tell you I've seen his body."

He pulled her down with him until she was on her knees as well. Raging into his face, she gasped, "I don't care. Geraden didn't do it."

"And I tell you I've seen his body." In spite of weakness and fever, Artagel met her with the unflinching passion which had twice led him to hurl himself against the High King's Monomach. "You deny it, but it isn't going to go away. An Imager did it. Translation is the only way a beast could get into that room and out again. But it wasn't Eremis. He was with Lebbick the whole time.

"Right now, he's up in the reservoir translating a new water supply. He's the only reason we've got any hope at all. I took Geraden's side against him"--Artagel's voice seemed to be thick with blood--"and I was wrong. He's saving us./

"Geaden killed Nyle. I'm going to track him down whether you tell me where he is or not. The only difference it's going to make is time."

"And then you're going to cut his heart out." Terisa couldn't bear any more. He made her want to shriek. With an effort of will, she let go of his shirt, drew back from him. "Get out of here," she muttered. "I don't want to hear this." The image of what had happened to Nyle sucked at her concentration. She thrust it away with both hands. "Just get out of here."

Then the sight of him--fierce and in pain on his knees against her bars--touched her, and she relented a little. "You really ought to be in bed. You aren't going to be hunting anybody for a while. If the Castellan doesn't tear it out of me--and if he lets me live--I promise I'll tell you everything I can when You're will enough to do something about it."

He didn't raise his head for a long time. When he finally looked up, the light had gone out of his gaze.

Torturously, like an old man whose joints had begun to betray him, he pulled himself up the bars, regained his feet. "I always trusted him," he murmured as if he were alone, deaf and blind to her presence. "More than Nyle or any of the others. He was so clumsy and decent. And smarter than I am. I can't figure it out.

"You came along, and I thought that was good because it gave him something to fight for. It gave him a reason to stop letting those Masters humiliate him. So then he kills Nyle, kills"--Artagel shuddered, his eyes focused on nothing--"and you're the only explanation I can think of, you must be evil in some terrible way I don't understand, but you want me to go on trusting him. I can't figure it out.

"I saw his body." Like an old man, he turned from the door and began shuffling down the corridor. "I picked it up and held it." Brushing at the dried stains on his nightshirt, he passed beyond Terisa's range of vision. His boots scuffed along the floor until she couldn't hear them anymore.
While this passage makes the point multiple times that Artagel isn't in his right mind here, it's still disappointing to have him be so certain that Geraden is a murderer. Fortunately, this is the last passage where Artagel isn't up to being his old, optimistic, cocky, likeable, self.
Last edited by Cord Hurn on Fri Aug 31, 2018 11:20 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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It's a relief to see Artagel back to his optimistic self, once he gains permission from his doctor to leave his rooms.
In Chapter 34 of [i]A Man Rides Through[/i] was wrote:His side was healing well, and he had been free of fever long enough to reassure his physician. In addition, ever since his delirious visit to the dungeons he had been a model patient. So he was advised to get out of bed for a little, mild, repeat, mild exercise.

He smiled at his physician's severe manner. He smiled at the gap-toothed kitchen maid who brought his meals. He smiled at the sweep who cleaned his rooms. But he didn't actually try to stand and dress himself and walk until he was sure he wouldn't be interrupted.

He didn't want any witnesses while he tested himself to see how weak he was.

The effort of putting on a loose shirt and trousers made him sweat. Bending over to shove his feet into his boots made him light-headed. Simply lifting the weight of his longsword made him tremble. With every movement, his injury pulled as if it were about to tear open.

Grinning unsteady defiance, he left his rooms--mild exercise, mild--and went to see Castellan Lebbick.

He had a number of reasons for wanting to talk to the Castellan. One was that Lebbick had tried to see him a few days ago, and had been turned away because of his fever. Another was that--if he could be persuaded to talk--the Castellan was the best available source of information about several subjects which interested Artagel keenly: the siege; King Joyse's plans; the Congery's preparations; the search for Geraden.

Thanks to the fact that most of his friends were guards, a number of whom had come to see him while he was ill, he knew that the siege had been passive since the first day. But that could mean almost anything; he wanted to know what it did mean. Of course, Master Eremis' solution to the water problem was common knowledge. In addition, Artagel had heard that Master Quillon was dead, that Master Barsonage had resumed his place as mediator of the Congery. He had heard that Terisa was gone. He had even heard that there was a connection between Quillon's death and Terisa's disappearance. And just once someone--probably Artagel's physician himself--had mentioned that questions were still being asked about Underwell.

Curiosity about such things might have been enough to make Artagel visit the Castellan. He and Lebbick were old friends, after all--to the extent that the Castellan could be said to have friends. In fact, he had been Artagel's teacher and commander until Artagel had reached the point where it was no longer reasonable for anyone to tell him what to do. Because of this, he was widely believed--at least among the castle's active defenders--to be the only man in Orison who could go to the Castellan and ask him questions and actually get answers.
The way Artagel is smiling and considerate of the feelings of servants aiding him seems completely in character for him, and further increases his likeability. That Artagel could be regarded as a friend of Lebbick's is at first surprising to me, as they seem to be most unalike in personality. But the passage becomes more believable to me because of the insertion of the clause, to the extent that the Castellan could be said to have friends.
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In Chapter 34 of [i]A Man Rides Through[/i] was wrote:First he had thought long and searchingly--not his favorite form of exertion--about his last conversation with the lady Terisa, and he didn't like any of the conclusions he reached.

Second, he had heard from no less that six reliable friends that early in the morning after Terisa's disappearance Castellan Lebbick had returned to his quarters and found a woman in his bed.

Terisa's former maid, Saddith.

He had beaten her nearly to death.

Even now--what was it, five days later?--her physician wasn't sure if she would ever use her hands again. And as for her face-- Well, no one wanted to describe her disfigurement.

Since then, the Castellan hadn't been out of his rooms. He directed the defense of Orison entirely through an intermediary--through the one man he had chosen to bring him information and carry his instructions.

By a coincidence so odd that it made Artagel's guts knot, the man Castellan Lebbick had chosen was Ribuld, the scarred veteran who had occasionally helped protect Terisa as a favor to Geraden, and had lost his best friend, Argus, in a failed attempt to trap Prince Kragen.

Why Ribuld, of all people? Lebbick had never put him in a position of responsibility before. In fact, Ribuld would have said that the Castellan never noticed him except when he did something wrong.

Even though the effort of walking made his heart labor and his bones ache, Artagel was determined to contront Castellan Lebbick and get some answers.

He didn't like remembering the way Terisa had cried at him, Are you out of your mind? Geraden is your brother. At the time, he hadn't understood her. Well, he had been delirious, emotionally and morally sick at what had been done to Nyle. But now her words stuck in him like an accusation.

Seeing Artagel in a state of guilt is another emotional state in which we aren't used to seeing him. And yet it had the effect on my of having my admiration in him restored after his moment of feverish accusation.
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In [i]A Man Rides Through[/i] Chapter 34 was wrote:When he arrived at Lebbick's quarters, he was a little surprised to find the door guarded. The Castellan had never felt the need for protection in his own rooms before. Nevertheless Artagel didn't hesitate. He went up to the guard on duty, a man he had known for years, and asked, "He still refusing to see anybody?"

The man nodded. Despite his evident pleasure that Artagel was out of bed at last, he commented, "And he isn't going to make an exception in your case, either."

Artagel smiled. It was probably a good thing he hadn't tried to bring his sword. He would have looked like a fool pulling it out--and then letting its weight stretch him flat on the floor. As if he'd never been ill, however, he said, "I want to go in there. You aren't really going to stand in my way."

"You're going to get past me?" the guard snorted. "In your condition?" But then he put up his hands. "Well, since you force me-- Somebody's got to get sense out of him. Might as well be you. After what he did to that woman-- If he doesn't answer for it soon, we're going to have trouble on our hands. Too many people who don't have anything better to do are getting ugly about it.

"If he hits you, give a croak, and I'll carry you back to your rooms.
Artagel faked a bow with one arm. "Thanks ever so much. It always feels good to have a man like you behind me."

"I know," the guard replied. "As far behind you as possible."

Chuckling, he opened the door.

Convinced that he really wasn't going to be able to stay on his feet much longer, Artagel entered the Castellan's quarters.
Artagel still has his forceful side. He would have been willing to be aggressive enough to wave his sword around to gain entry, if he had remembered to bring as wasn't too weak to wield it. Though he's mostly a cool character, this hints that he can have an obnoxious, pushy side. His isn't a single-faceted personality, the way he's written.
The front room was ill-lit, unswept, and undecorated--which hadn't been the case when Artagel was last here, some time before Lebbick's wife died. Although he wasn't given to luxury, the Castellan had claimed an extensive suite for himself and his wife; he had insisted for decades that they meant to have children, regardless of the damage she had suffered as an Alend prisoner. And she had humored him by keeping up their quarters like a home where children would be welcome. But since her death he had stripped the walls and the floor to the bare stone; he had moved a hard cot into the front room and sealed the rest of the doors--even in Orison's overcrowded state, those rooms stood empty. And since Terisa's disappearance he had obviously given up all pretense of housekeeping. The one lamp on the table beside his cot gave just enough to show that the room was filthy.

So was he: he hadn't shaved, or washed, or changed his clothes for days. His eyes were red with exhaustion and malice--or grief--and his hands curled in front of him as if he badly needed a sword.

Facing Artagel from the edge of his cot, he rasped distinctly, "I'm going to disembowel the man who let you in here."

The air was foul with dirt, rancid sweat, food gone to maggots. Artagel stifled an impulse to gag. Pretending that his nauseated expression was a smile, he replied, "No , you won't." Deliberately, he found a chair and sat. "If you want to get him, you'll have to get me first. I'm the most popular man in Orison."

"Hog-puke." The Castellan blinked malevolently. "Eremis is the most popular man in Orison." In spite of his tone, however, he didn't leave the bed. "You're just an invalid who's still alive because he got lucky the last time he met Gart.

"That's probably why they sent you. They think I won't hurt a man who's so weak a woman could knock him over."

Feigning nonchalance, Artagel inquired, "'They'?"

"They. The Tor. King Joyse. Half of the rutting dogs in this stinkhole. The bastard who let you in. The ones who think Eremis is the best thing since King Joyse invented sunshine. The ones who think I ought to be castrated because I slapped that rank whore a couple of times. They.

"They want me to come out so they can jump me. They want you to make me come out."

"Sorry." Artagel loathed dealing with Lebbick like this; he would have preferred to meet the High King's Monomach without a sword. As a result he sounded incongruously happy, as if he were having a wonderful time. "I hate to contradict you when you're in such a good mood. But the truth is, I don't have any idea what you're talking about. I just came to tell you Geraden didn't kill Nyle."

"I know that," snapped Lebbick. "Don't tell me. Tell them."

"Wait a minute." Artagel would have been less startled if the Castellan had started foaming at the mouth. "Wait. What do you mean, you know that? How do you know?"

"I know"--Castellan Lebbick glared at his visitor as if Artagel were hideous--"because that piss-drinking slut was in my bed. In my bed."
Artagel may have that crazy daring streak when it comes to getting into combat, but he doesn't care for the craziness of being around someone whose thought processes seem to have no logical flow. And no doubt it hurts Artagel more for the apparent lunacy to be coming from someone like Lebbick that he respects. Artagel is still dealing with deep worry about what is going on with both Nyle and Geraden, and dealing with deep guilt about what he told Terisa, and seeing Lebbick apparently with his reasoning ability unhinged is nearly enough to frighten Artagel off. Artagel loathed dealing with Lebbick like this; he would have preferred to meet the High King's Monomach without a sword.
Now it was Artagel's turn to blink. "Wait a minute," he repeated. "Wait."

Lebbick didn't wait. "I came right through that door"--he pointed fiercely at the door--"and she was in my bed." He pounded the cot. "Naked as shit. Smiling at me. Wagging her tits. Of course Geraden didn't kill Nyle."

Then his ferocity dimmed. "I would have believed anybody except that woman."

Artagel held his breath and said nothing.

"She made it think about it over and over again. She kept making me go back to the beginning. But when she was wrong about that secret passage--I was sure. And I saw her escaping, I saw her. With Quillon. King Joyse's friend. Then I found his body. I caught up with her. She was with Gilbur. I was sure. Gilbur told me they were allies. Of course I was sure. Of course Geraden killed Nyle. She must have escaped with Gilbur, not Quillon. She was a traitor, a murderer. That proved Geraden was guilty.

"Isn't that what they told you?"

"No," Artagel murmured. "They haven't told me a thing."

"Well, they will," Lebbick snarled. "Give them a chance. They're all talking about me. They whisper behind my behind my back." A wild grin stretched his mouth. "Eremis is a hero. Everything that woman said about him is a lie. Geraden killed Nyle. She put him up to it. She helped him escape. Then Gilbur helped her escape. They killed Quillon. I'm a monster. Nobody understands why King Joyse hasn't had me gutted.

"Eremis is a hero."

Groping for some measure of sanity in the conversation, Artagel drawled, "I doubt it. Terisa must have told you Nyle is still alive. She certainly tried to tell me.

"I didn't believe her," he admitted, "but I've been kicking myself for that ever since." Generally, he wasn't much inclined to regret; nevertheless he regretted intensely the things he had said to Terisa. He should have looked at that body more closely. "I finally figured out what must have happened." Geraden is your brother. You've known him all his life. "They must have switched the bodies. Underwell and Nyle. That's why they used Imagery--why they let creatures feed on the bodies. To disfigure them. So we would think Underwell was Nyle.

"Geraden wouldn't do a thing like that. It's impossible. I know him better than that."

As if he were discussing the weather, Artagel added, "If he didn't do it, that just leaves Eremis. We don't have anybody else to blame it on."

"I know that." Grief twisted Castellan Lebbick's features. Softly, he repeated, I know that Why do you think I kept hitting her?" I was trying to get her to tell me the truth."

"It was Quillon who helped that woman escape. That's the truth. He did it because King Joyse told him to. To get her away from me. He ordered me to do my job, and then he tried to sneak her away from me. That's why he leaves me alone, now. He hasn't sent for me in days. He knows I was just following orders.

"He wants to break me. He wants me to hide down here until I rot. Because he doesn't trust me."
Artagel proves he has some shrewdness, some spiritual insight, in being able to get Lebbick to show if he retains any sanity. The following passage is about as subtle as Artagel ever gets, in my opinion.
Artagel felt frantically that he was getting nowhere. He was tempted to back out of the room, put some distance between himself and the Castellan's lunacy. But his regret was stronger than his alarm. He had already let both Terisa and Geraden down.

Instead of retreating, he tried a different approach.

"Well, he must trust you some," Artagel made an effort to sound hearty, without much success. "You're still in command, aren't you? You're still the Castellan."

Lebbick nodded as if he hadn't heard the question.
"Speaking of things you're in command of, how's the defense going?" continued Artagel. "I heard a rumor that Kragen hasn't so much as thrown a rock at us since the first day. Is that true?"

The Castellan nodded again. "Margonal's whoreson," he growled, "is just sitting out there staring at us."

"Why? What makes him think he can get away with that? Isn't he afraid of Cadwal?"

"I can only think of two explanations." As if by accident, some of the tension in Lebbick's face loosened. On some level, Artagel had distracted him. "He knows Festten isn't coming--for some reason--and we don't because he doesn't let the news get to us. Or Alend and Cadwal have made an alliance."

There: that was an improvement. Castellan Lebbick still had some lucidity in him. Carefully, Artagel said, "Then I guess Cadwal isn't coming. If Festten and Margonal had an alliance, Kragen wouldn't have tried to attack us alone."

"That's probably true," agreed the Castellan morosely. "Festten wouldn't have made an alliance unless he could be sure Margonal wouldn't get to the Congery ahead of him."
Getting Lebbick to talk about the defense of Orison is an effective strategy to get him relaxed enough so that Artagel has a better chance at getting a coherent answer to the question he really wants to ask Lebbick.
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