Robin Hobb returns to the sea with Mad Ship, the second book in a projected trilogy set in the same world as her famed Farseer series. Many unresolved questions from Ship of Magic are answered in this tale of sea serpents and dragons; living ships made of wizardwood; the Bingtown Trader families who sail the ships; and their disfigured cousins, the Rain Wild Traders, who build them.

The Vestritt family's liveship, Vivacia, has been taken by Kennit, an ambitious pirate. Captain Haven is a prisoner; his son Wintrow, who bears the Vestritt blood, finds himself competing with Kennit for Vivacia's love as she becomes a pirate ship. Althea Vestritt, in training to become Vivacia's captain, arrives home to discover her beloved ship lost. Brashen Trell, her old friend and shipmate, proposes that they sail to Vivacia's rescue in the liveship Paragon, who has lost two previous crews and is believed mad. Malta, Althea's niece, seeks help from her suitor, the Rain Wild Trader Reyn, whose family is the Vestritt's major creditor. Meanwhile, the sea serpents who follow sailing ships struggle to remember their history and return to their place of transformation.

Each volume in this series is a major undertaking, but those who enjoy original, epic fantasy, characters who grow and change believably, and fine writing will not want to miss The Liveship Traders. --Nona Vero


From Publishers Weekly
The second book (after Ship of Magic) in Hobbs's Liveship Traders trilogy solidifies the series's promise as a major work of high fantasy, reading like a cross between Tolkein and Patrick O'Brian. Protagonist Althea Vestrit is neither unrealistically beautiful nor mindlessly dauntless. She is a very human character who has her share of doubts as she undertakes to assemble a motley crew of allies (including her former lover, Brashen Trell) to take the blind, insane liveship Paragone to sea in search of the Vestrit family's liveship Vivacia. Meanwhile, Vivacia is enjoying a prosperous career as the flagship of pirate Captain Kennit. In spite of his peg leg, Kennit is a charismatic leader, with a genius for manipulation that his mistress Etta and his prisoner Wintrow Vestrit (Althea's nephew) seem ready to mistake for virtue. And in Bingtown, Wintrow's bratty sister, Malta, finally starts growing up when her family and town face ruin and she must take refuge in the Rain Wild forests. This second installment in the trilogy reveals the connections among liveships, the wizardwood used to build them, the sea serpents and the legendary Rain dragons. Apart from an overly long subplot concerning the feckless young Satrap, the novel is tightly written, with few passages not devoted to characterization, world building or action. Again, Hobb gives high fantasy a salty nautical spin that will please a great many readers. (Apr.) FYI: Robin Hobb is a pseudonym for Megan Lindholm.Copyright 1999 Reed Business Information, Inc.


From Library Journal
Deprived of the liveship Vivacia, which should have been her inheritance, Althea Vestrit seeks solace in the attempt to restore the sanity of the abandoned ship known as Paragon and, through her efforts, find a way to reclaim her heritage. This sequel to Ship of Magic (LJ 2/15/98) continues the epic tale of sentient ships and ruthless trader clans in a world steeped in old magic and lost treasures. Imaginative and compelling in its attention to detail and breadth of characterization, this title belong in most fantasy collections.Copyright 1999 Reed Business Information, Inc.


From Booklist
The second volume of The Liveship Traders is as splendid as Ship of Magic. Althea Vestrit is now a seasoned sailor, and with the aid of her family, her lover Brashen Tell, and the curious wood-carver Amber, she restores the abandoned, blind liveship Paragon, the "mad ship" of the title. Aboard him (Paragon is male), they set out on a bold quest to find and recover the Vestrit family's liveship Vivacia. Meanwhile, Vivacia is thriving under the command of pirate king Captain Kennit, who has persuaded her to join his antislavery crusade, has made his mistress Etta love him, and is turning the captive Wintrow Vestrit into a more than competent pirate. Meanwhile, the satrap's intrigues culminate in the burning of Bingtown; Althea's precocious niece Malta becomes much more competent if no less hard to handle; and we learn about the long-secret connection between liveships, wizardwood, the remaining sea serpents, and the legendary dragons of the Rain Wild River's forests. Hobb controls the shifts of viewpoint, the subplots, and the cast of characters well enough to avoid most middle-of-the-trilogy problems. With her hands on the wheel, high fantasy is going to sea magnificently. It is hard to imagine any reader not coming back for The Liveship Traders' conclusion. Roland Green


From Kirkus Reviews
This second (Ship of Magic, 1998) in Hobb's doorstopper trilogy about the Liveship Traders charts the briny adventures of Bingtown's Vestrit family. Now, old Ephron Vestrit's sentient liveship, Vivacia (built of magic wizardwood, she can talk and manipulate objects via her animated figurehead), has been captured by the ruthless pirate Kennit, while her captain, Kyle Haven, along with Kyle's talented, tormented son, Wintrow, are below-decks prisoners. Althea Vestrit, meanwhile, has teamed up with an old shipmate, captain Brashen Trell, to sail another liveship, Paragon, that may have killed previous crews and is reckoned mad. And Althea's headstrong sister, Malta, must travel into the magic-filled Rain Wild lands in payment of the debt by which the Vestrits obtained Vivacia. A community of intelligent sea serpents has its own agenda, and there are numerous other complications. Hobb displays a wonderful imagination but has cast aside any remaining inclination toward control. Still, this should delight fans of the first installment. -- Copyright ©1999, Kirkus Associates, LP. All rights reserved.


Review
"A truly extraordinary saga...the characterizations are consistently superb, and [Hobb] animates everything with the love for and knowledge of the sea. If Patrick O'Brian were to turn to writing high fantasy, he might produce something like this. Kudos to the author, and encore!"
--Booklist


Review
"A truly extraordinary saga...the characterizations are consistently superb, and [Hobb] animates everything with the love for and knowledge of the sea. If Patrick O'Brian were to turn to writing high fantasy, he might produce something like this. Kudos to the author, and encore!"
--Booklist


Book Description
In the second breathtaking volume of Robin Hobb's Liveship Traders trilogy, a new tide of glory and terror sweeps forward the story of the Vestrit clan, their liveship Vivacia, and all who strive to possess her.

As the ancient tradition of Bingtown's Old Traders slowly erodes under the cold new order of a corrupt ruler, the Vestrits anxiously await the return of their liveship--a rare magic ship carved from sentient wizardwood, which bonds the ships mystically with those who sail them. And Althea Vestrit waits even more avidly, living only to reclaim the ship as her lost inheritance and captain her on the high seas. But the Vivacia has been seized by the ruthless pirate captain Kennit, who holds Althea's nephew and his father hostage. Althea and her onetime sea mate Brashen resolve to liberate the liveship--but their plan may prove more dangerous than leaving the Vivacia in Kennit's ambitious grasp....


From the Inside Flap
In the second breathtaking volume of Robin Hobb's Liveship Traders trilogy, a new tide of glory and terror sweeps forward the story of the Vestrit clan, their liveship Vivacia, and all who strive to possess her.

As the ancient tradition of Bingtown's Old Traders slowly erodes under the cold new order of a corrupt ruler, the Vestrits anxiously await the return of their liveship--a rare magic ship carved from sentient wizardwood, which bonds the ships mystically with those who sail them. And Althea Vestrit waits even more avidly, living only to reclaim the ship as her lost inheritance and captain her on the high seas. But the Vivacia has been seized by the ruthless pirate captain Kennit, who holds Althea's nephew and his father hostage. Althea and her onetime sea mate Brashen resolve to liberate the liveship--but their plan may prove more dangerous than leaving the Vivacia in Kennit's ambitious grasp....


From the Back Cover
"A truly extraordinary saga...the characterizations are consistently superb, and [Hobb] animates everything with the love for and knowledge of the sea. If Patrick O'Brian were to turn to writing high fantasy, he might produce something like this. Kudos to the author, and encore!"
--Booklist


Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
The Liveship Ophelia

Althea's watch was over; her time was now her own. She was tired, but pleasantly so. The spring afternoon had been almost balmy. It was rare for the season to be this kindly and Althea had enjoyed it. The Ophelia herself had been in an expansive mood all day. The liveship had made the sailors' tasks easy, moving northward toward home with a will. She was a ponderous old cog, now heavy with goods from a successful trading journey. The early evening wind was gentle rather than brisk, but Ophelia's sails caught every breath of it. She slid effortlessly through the waves. Althea leaned on the forward rail, watching the beginning of the sunset off the port bow. Home was only a few days away.

"Mixed feelings?" Ophelia asked her with a throaty chuckle. The buxom figurehead gave her a knowing glance over her bared shoulder.

"You know you are right," Althea conceded. "About everything. Nothing in my life makes sense anymore." She began to tick her confusions off on her fingers. "Here I am, serving as first on a liveship merchant vessel, about the highest post a sailor can aspire to. Captain Tenira has promised me a ship's ticket out of this. It's all the proof I need that I am a competent sailor. With that credential, I can go home and press Kyle to keep his word, and give me back my ship. Yet, oddly enough, I feel guilty about it. You have made it so easy. I worked three times as hard when I was serving as ship's boy on the Reaper. It just doesn't seem right."

"I could make your tasks harder if you wish," Ophelia offered teasingly. "I could develop a list, or start taking on water or . . ."

"You wouldn't do that," Althea told her with certainty. "You're too proud of how well you sail. No. I do not wish my tasks to be harder. Nor do I regret my months aboard the Reaper. If nothing else, they proved to me that I could scramble. Serving aboard that hulk made me a better sailor, and showed me a side of sailing I had never seen before then. It wasn't a waste of time. It was time away from the Vivacia; that is where the rub is. Time lost forever." Althea's voice trailed away.

"Oh, my dear, that's so tragic." Ophelia's voice was full of solicitude. A moment later, she went on sarcastically, "The only way it could be worse would be if you wasted still more time mooning about it. Althea. This is not like you. Look forward, not back. Correct your course and go on. You can't undo yesterday's journey."

"I know," Althea said with a rueful laugh. "I know that what I am doing now is the right thing to do. It just seems strange that it is so easy and pleasant. A beautiful ship, a lively crew, a good captain . . ."

"A very handsome first mate," Ophelia interjected.

"He is that," Althea admitted easily. "And I appreciate all Grag has done for me. I know he says he is enjoying the chance to read and relax, but it must be tedious to pretend he is ill so I can have the chance to fill his position. I have a lot of reasons to be grateful to him."

"Odd. You haven't shown him that gratitude." For the first time, a touch of chill crept into the ship's voice.

"Ophelia," Althea groaned. "Please, let's not get into that again. You don't want me to pretend feelings for Grag that I simply don't have, do you?"

"I simply can't understand why you don't have those feelings, that's all. Are you sure you do not deceive yourself? Look at my Grag. He is handsome, charming, witty, kind and a gentleman. Not to mention that he is born of a Bingtown Trader family and stands to inherit a sizable fortune. A fortune that includes a magnificent liveship, I might add. What more could you be looking for in a man?"

"He is all those things and more. I conceded that to you days ago. I find no faults with Grag Tenira. Or with his magnificent liveship." Althea smiled at the ship.

"Then the problem must be with you," Ophelia announced inexorably. "Why aren't you attracted to him?"

Althea bit her tongue for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was reasonable. "I am, Ophelia. In a way. Nevertheless, there are so many other things going on in my life that I cannot allow myself . . . I just do not have time to think about things like that. You know what I face when we get to Bingtown. I need to make amends with my mother, if that is possible. And there is another 'magnificent liveship' that occupies my thoughts. I have to persuade my mother to support me when I try to take the Vivacia back from Kyle. She heard him vow before Sa that if I could but prove myself a sailor, he would give me the ship. However rashly he spoke, I intend to make him keep that vow. I know it is going to be an ugly struggle to force him to surrender Vivacia to me. I need to keep my mind focused on that."

"Don't you think Grag could be a powerful ally in such a struggle?"

"Would you think it honorable of me to encourage his advances only to use him as a tool to get my ship back?" Althea's voice was cool now.

Ophelia laughed low. "Ah. He has made advances, then. I was beginning to worry about the boy. So. Tell me all about it." She quirked an eyebrow at Althea.

"Ship!" Althea warned her, but after a moment, she could not help joining her laughter. "Are you going to pretend to me that you don't already know everything that goes on aboard you?"

"Umm," Ophelia mused. "Perhaps I know most of what happens in the staterooms and belowdecks. But not all." She paused, then pried, "That was a very long silence inside his quarters yesterday. Did he try to kiss you yesterday?"

Althea sighed. "No. Of course not. Grag is far too well bred for that."

"I know. More's the pity." Ophelia shook her head. As if she had forgotten to whom she was speaking, she added, "The boy needs a bit more spark to him. Nice is fine, but there's a time when a man should be a bit of a rogue, to get what he wants." She cocked her head at Althea. "Like Brashen Trell, for instance."

Althea groaned. The ship had wormed his name out of her a week ago, and had given her no peace since then. If she was not demanding to know what was wrong with Grag, and why didn't Althea fancy him, then she was pestering her for the sordid details of her brief liaison with Brashen. Althea did not want to think about the man. Her feelings on that topic were too confusing. The more she decided she was finished with him, the more he intruded into her thoughts. She kept thinking of all the witty things she should have said at their last parting. He had been so rude when she had not kept a rendezvous she knew was unwise. The man had assumed too much, far too soon. He didn't deserve a moment of her thoughts, let alone dwelling on him. But despite her waking disdain for him, he intruded into her dreams. In her dreams, the poignancy of his gentle strength seemed a safe harbor worth seeking. In her dreams, she reminded herself, setting her teeth. In her waking hours, she knew he was no safe harbor, but a whirlpool of foolish impulses that would draw her to her doom.

She had been silent too long; Ophelia was watching her face with a knowing look. Abruptly Althea stood straight and put a small smile on her face. "I think I'll go and see Grag before I turn in. There are a few questions I need answered."

"Um," Ophelia purred, pleased. "Take your time asking them, my dear. The Tenira men think deeply before they act, but when they do act . . ." She lifted both her eyebrows at Althea. "You might not even remember Trell's name afterward," she suggested.

"Believe me. I'm already doing my best to forget it."

Althea was relieved to hurry away from her. Sometimes it was wonderful to spend part of the evening sitting and talking with the ship. The wizardwood figurehead incorporated many generations of Tenira sailors, but women had formed her first and deepest impressions. Ophelia retained a female perspective on life. It was not the fragile helplessness that now passed for femininity in Bingtown, but the independent determination that had distinguished the first women Traders. The advice she offered Althea was often startling to her, yet it frequently reinforced views Althea had privately held for years. Althea had not had many women friends. The tales Ophelia had shared with her had made her realize that her dilemmas were not as unique as she had believed. At the same time, Ophelia's brazen discussions of Althea's most intimate problems both delighted and horrified her. The ship seemed to accept Althea's independence. She encouraged Althea to follow her heart, but also held her responsible for the decisions she had made. It was heady to have such a friend.

She hesitated outside the door to Grag's cabin. She paused to straighten her clothing and hair. She had been relieved to abandon the boy's guise she had worn aboard the Reaper. On this ship, the crew knew her name. Althea Vestrit had to uphold the honor of her family. So although she dressed practically, in heavy cotton fabric, the trousers she wore were closer to being a split skirt. She had bound her hair back out of the way, but not tarred it into a queue. The laced-up blouse that she tucked carefully into her trousers even had a touch of embroidery on it.

She felt a pleasant anticipation at the thought of seeing Grag. She enjoyed sitting and talking with him. There was a gratifying little tension of awareness between them. Grag found her attractive and was undaunted by her competency. He seemed impressed by it. It was a new and flattering experience for Althea. She wished she could be certain that was all she felt. Despite her fling with Brashen--despite living aboard ship with men for years--in some areas she was very inexperienced. She was not sure if she was attracted to Grag for himself, or simply because he seemed to be fascinated with her. Surely, this was just a harmless flirtation between them. What more could it be, between two strangers flung together by chance?

She took a breath and knocked.

"Enter." Grag's voice was muffled.

She found him sitting up on his bunk, his face swathed in bandaging. There was a strong scent of cloves in the air. At the sight of her, a welcoming glint came into his blue eyes. As she shut the door behind her, he pulled the wrappings off his jaw and let them drop gratefully. The pretense of the bandages had left his hair tousled like a boy's. She grinned at him. "So. How's the toothache?"

"Convenient." He stretched, rolling his wide shoulders, then made a show of flinging himself back on his bunk. "I can't remember when I last had this much time to myself." He swung his legs up onto his bunk and crossed them at the ankle.

"You're not getting bored?"

"No. For any sailor, idle time is too much of a novelty. We always find a way to fill it." He fished around at the edge of his bunk and came up with a handful of ropework. He unrolled it on his lap to reveal a fancifully knotted mat. The intricate pattern had created a lacy effect from the stout twine he had used to create it. It was hard to believe such a delicate design came from his work-scarred fingers.

Althea touched the edge of it. "Beautiful." Her fingers traced the pattern of knotted twine. "My father could take an empty wine bottle, and some twine, and create this wonderful pattern of knots over the glass. It looked like flowers, or snowflakes. . . . He always promised he'd teach me how to do it, but we never found the time." The gaping sense of loss that she had believed she had mastered overwhelmed her again. She turned away from him abruptly and stared at the wall.

Grag was silent for a moment. Then he offered quietly, "I could teach you, if you wanted."

FROM OUR EDITORS

One of the bright new faces in fantasy, Robin Hobb now provides the capstone of her epic Liveship series. At the onset, everything seems to be tumbling down: Bingtown has been torched; Althea and Brashen struggle to keep the Paragon under control; and Vivacia falls prey to a dark force within. One to watch.

FROM THE PUBLISHER

Chapter One
The Rain Wilds

Malta dug her makeshift paddle into the gleaming water and pushed hard. The little boat edged forward through the water. Swiftly she transferred the cedar plank to the other side of the craft, frowning at the beads of water that dripped from it into the boat when she did so. It couldn’t be helped. The plank was all she had for an oar, and rowing on one side of the boat would only spin them in circles. She refused to imagine that the acid drops were even now eating into the planking underfoot. Surely, a tiny bit of Rain Wild River water could not do much damage. She trusted that the powdery white metal on the outside of the boat would keep the river from devouring it, but there was no guarantee of that, either. She pushed the thought from her mind. They had not far to go.

She ached in every limb. She had worked the night through, trying to make their way back to Trehaug. Her exhausted muscles trembled with every effort she demanded of them. Not far to go, she told herself yet again. Their progress had been agonizingly slow. Her head ached abominably but worst was the itching of the healing injury on her forehead. Why must it always itch the worst when she could not spare a hand to scratch?

She maneuvered the tiny rowboat among the immense trunks and spidering roots of the trees that banked the Rain Wild River. Here, beneath the canopy of rain forest, the night sky and its stars were a myth rarely glimpsed; yet a fitful twinkling beckoned her in between the trunks and branches. The lights of the tree-borne city of Trehaug guided her to warmth, safety, and most of all, rest. Shadows were still thick all around her, yetthe calls of birds in the high treetops told her that in the east, dawn was lightening the sky. Sunlight would not pierce the thick canopy until later, and when it came, it would be as shafts of light amidst a watery green mockery of sunshine. Where the river sliced a path through the thick trees, day would glitter silver on the milky water of the wide channel.

The nose of the rowboat snagged suddenly on top of a hidden root. Again. Malta bit her tongue to keep from screaming her frustration. Making her way through the forested shallows was like threading the craft through a sunken maze. Time and time again, drifts of debris or concealed roots had turned her aside from her intended path. The fading lights ahead seemed little closer than when they had set out. Malta shifted her weight and leaned over the side to probe the offending obstacle with her plank. With a grunt, she pushed the boat free. She dipped her paddle again and the boat moved around the hidden barrier.

“Why don’t you paddle us over there, where the trees are thinner?” demanded the Satrap. The erstwhile ruler of all Jamaillia sat in the stern, his knees drawn nearly to his chin, while his Companion Kekki huddled fearfully in the bow. Malta didn’t turn her head. She spoke in a cold voice. “When you’re willing to pick up a plank and help with the paddling or steering, you can have a say in where we go. Until then, shut up.” She was sick of the boy-Satrap’s imperious posturing and total uselessness for any practical task.

“Any fool can see that there are fewer obstacles there. We could go much faster.”

“Oh, much faster,” Malta agreed sarcastically. “Especially if the current catches us and sweeps us out into the main part of the river.”

The Satrap took an exasperated breath. “As we are upriver of the city, it seems to me that the current is with us. We could take advantage of it and let it carry us where I want to go, and arrive much more swiftly.”

“We could also lose control of the boat completely, and shoot right past the city.”

“Is it much farther?” Kekki whined pathetically.

“You can see as well as I can,” Malta retorted. A drop of the river water fell on her knee as she shifted the paddle to the other side. It tickled, then itched and stung. She took a moment to dab at it with the ragged hem of her robe. The fabric left grit in its wake. It was filthy from her long struggle through the halls and corridors of the buried Elderling city the previous night. So much had happened since then, it seemed more like a thousand nights. When she tried to recall it, the events jumbled in her mind. She had gone into the tunnels to confront the dragon, to make her leave Reyn in peace. But there had been the earthquake, and then when she had found the dragon ... The threads of her recall snarled hopelessly at that point. The cocooned dragon had opened Malta’s mind to all the memories stored in that chamber of the city. She had been inundated with the lives of those who had dwelt there, drowned in their recollections. From that point until the time when she had led the Satrap and his Companion out of the buried labyrinth, all was misty and dreamlike. Only now was she piecing together that the Rain Wild Traders had hid the Satrap and Kekki away for their own protection.

Or had they? Her gaze flicked briefly to Kekki cowering in the bow. Had they been protected guests, or hostages? Perhaps a little of both. She found that her own sympathies were entirely with the Rain Wilders. The sooner she returned Satrap Cosgo and Kekki to their custody, the better. They were valuable commodities, to be employed against the Jamaillian nobles, the New Traders and the Chalcedeans. When she had first met the Satrap at the ball, she had been briefly dazzled by the illusion of his power. Now she knew his elegant garb and aristocratic manners were only a veneer over a useless, venal boy. The sooner she was rid of him, the better.

She focused her eyes on the lights ahead. When she had led the Satrap and his Companion out of the buried Elderling city, they had found themselves far from where Malta had originally entered the underground ruins. A large stretch of quagmire and marshy river shallows separated them from the city. Malta had waited for dark and the guiding lights of the city before they set out in their ancient salvaged boat. Now dawn threatened and she still poled toward the beckoning lanterns of Trehaug. She fervently hoped that her ill-conceived adventure was close to an end.

The city of Trehaug was located amongst the branches of the huge-bold trees. Smaller chambers dangled and swung in the uppermost branches, while the grander family halls spanned trunk to trunk. Great staircases wound up the trunks, and their landings provided space for merchants, minstrels and beggars. The earth beneath the city was doubly cursed with marshiness and the instability of this quake-prone region. The few completely dry pieces of land were mostly small islands around the bases of trees.

Steering her little boat amongst the towering trees toward the city was like maneuvering around the immense columns in a forgotten god’s temple. The boat again fetched up against something and lodged. Water lapped against it. It did not feel like a root. “What are we snagged against?” Malta asked, peering forward.

Kekki did not even turn to look, but remained hunched over her folded knees. She seemed afraid to put her feet on the boat’s floorboards. Malta sighed. She was beginning to think something was wrong with the Companion’s mind. Either the experiences of the past day had turned her senses or, Malta reflected wryly, she had always been stupid and it took only adversity to manifest it. Malta set her plank down and, crouching low, moved forward in the boat. The rocking this created caused both the Satrap and Kekki to cry out in alarm. She ignored them. At close range, she was able to see that the boat had nosed into a dense mat of twigs, branches and other river debris, but in the gloom, it was hard to see the extent of it. She supposed some trick of the current had carried it here and packed it into this floating morass. It was too thick to force the small boat through it. “We’ll have to go around it,” she announced to the others. She bit her lip. That meant venturing closer to the main flow of the river. Well, as the Satrap had said, any current they encountered would carry them downriver to Trehaug, not away from it. It might even make her thankless task easier. She pushed aside her fears. Awkwardly she turned their rowboat away from the raft of debris and toward the main channel.

“This is intolerable!” Satrap Cosgo suddenly exclaimed. “I am dirty, bitten by insects, hungry and thirsty. And it is all the fault of these miserable Rain Wild settlers. They pretended that they brought me here to protect me. But since they have had me in their power, I have suffered nothing but abuse. They have affronted my dignity, compromised my health, and endangered my very life. No doubt they intend to break me, but I shall not give way to their mistreatment of me. The full weight of my wrath will descend upon these Rain Wild Traders. Who, it occurs to me, have settled here with no official recognition of their status at all! They have no legal claims to the treasures they have been digging up and selling. They are no better than the pirates that infest the Inside Passage and should be dealt with accordingly.”

Malta found breath to snort derisively. “You are scarcely in a position to bark at anyone. In reality, you are relying on their goodwill far more than they are relying on yours. How easy it would be for them to sell you off to the highest bidder, regardless of whether the buyer would assassinate you, hold you hostage or restore you to your throne! As for their claim to these lands, that came directly from the hand of Satrap Esclepius, your ancestor. The original charter for the Bingtown Traders specified only how many leffers of land each settler could claim, not where. The Rain Wild Traders staked their claims here; the Bingtown Traders took theirs by Bingtown Bay. Their claims are both ancient and honorable, and well documented under Jamaillian law. Unlike those of the New Traders you have foisted off on us.”

For a moment, shocked silence greeted her words. Then the Satrap forced a brittle laugh. “How amusing to hear you defend them! Such a benighted little bumpkin you are. Look at yourself, dressed in rags and covered with filth, your face forever disfigured by these renegades! Yet you defend them. Why? Ah, let me guess. It is because you know that no whole man would ever want you now. Your only hope is to marry into a family in which your kin are as misshapen as yourself, where you can hide behind a veil and no one will stare at your frightfulness. Pathetic! But for the actions of these rebels, I might have chosen you as a Companion. Davad Restart had spoken out on your behalf, and I found your clumsy attempts at dancing and conversation endearingly provincial. But now? Faugh!” The boat rocked minutely with the disdainful flip of his hand. “There is nothing more freakish than a beautiful woman whose face has been spoiled. The finer families of Jamaillia would not even take you as a household slave. Such disharmony has no place in an aristocratic household.”

Malta refused to look back at him, but she could imagine how his lips curled with contempt. She tried to be angry at his arrogance; she told herself he was an ignorant prig of a boy. But she had not seen her own face since the night she had nearly been killed in the overturning coach. When she had been convalescing in Trehaug, they had not permitted her a mirror. Her mother and even Reyn had seemed to dismiss the injuries to her face. But they would, her traitor heart told her. They would have to, her mother because she was her mother, and Reyn because he felt responsible for the coach accident. How bad was the scar? The cut down her forehead had felt long and jagged to her questing fingers. Now she wondered: did it pucker, did it pull her face to one side? She gripped the plank tightly in both her hands as she dug into the water with it. She would not set it down; she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her fingers grope over her scar. She set her teeth grimly and paddled on.

A dozen more strokes and suddenly the little vessel picked up speed. It gave a small sideways lurch in the water, and then spun once as Malta dug her plank into the water in a desperate effort to steer back into the shallows. She shipped her makeshift oar, and seized the extra plank from the bottom of the rowboat. “You’ll have to steer while I paddle,” she told the Satrap breathlessly. “Otherwise we’ll be swept out into the middle of the river.”

He looked at the plank she thrust toward him. “Steer?” he asked her, taking the board reluctantly.

Malta tried to keep her voice calm. “Stick that plank into the water behind us. Hold onto one end of it and use it as a drag to turn us back toward the shallows while I paddle in that direction.”

The Satrap held the board in his fine-boned hands as if he had never seen a piece of wood before. Malta seized her own plank, thrust it back into the water, and was amazed at the sudden strength of the current. She clutched the end awkwardly as she tried to oppose the flow of water that was sweeping them away from the shore. Morning light touched them as they emerged from the shelter of the overhanging trees. Suddenly the sunlight illuminated the water, making it unbearably bright after the dimness. Behind her, an annoyed exclamation coincided with a splash. She swiveled her head to see what had happened. The Satrap was empty-handed.

“The river snatched it right out of my hands!” he complained.

“You fool!” Malta cried out. “How can we steer now?”

The Satrap’s face darkened with fury. “How dare you speak to me so! You are the fool, to think it could have done us any good in the first place. It wasn’t even shaped like an oar. Besides, even if it would have worked, we do not need it. Use your eyes, wench. We’ve nothing to fear. There’s the city now! The river will carry us right to it.”
Copyright 2001 by Robin Hobb

FROM THE CRITICS

Publishers Weekly

One has to use a jeweler's loupe to find a flaw or a dull moment in this splendid conclusion to one of the finest fantasy sagas to bridge the millennium. True, there are moments in this third novel of the Liveship Traders Trilogy (Mad Ship; Ship of Magic) when things progress too easily--the folk of Bingtown, for example, seem to embrace diversity, equality and female empowerment too quickly to be believed. But otherwise, this book soars. Hobb weaves together multiple storylines: there's Althea Vestrit's quest for her family's liveship, Vivacia; the awakening of Paragon (the eponymous "ship of destiny"); the establishing of links between the liveships made of wizardwood and the sea serpents who, cocooned in wizardwood, mature into dragons; the appearance of the dragon Tintaglia; and the maturing of Malta Haven through rescuing the Satrap. Such a profusion of plotlines could have overwhelmed or slowed down the book, but Hobb handles them with such agility that the reader is likely to want not fewer but more stories. The most absorbing theme continues to revolve around Captain Kennit, his mistress, Etta (now carrying his child), and the conversion of Wintrow Haven into Kennit's heir as king of the Pirate Isles. (Kennit, perhaps the most interesting character in the trilogy, clearly was developed with a good deal of scholarship about the history of piracy.) This installment leaves nothing to be desired: the subplots advance in parallel; the nautical themes are handled splendidly; and the characters (including one of the more engaging and terrifying dragons in current fantasy) and world-building are of the very highest standard. Like its predecessors, this is a masterful achievement. Major ad/promo. (Aug.) Copyright 2000 Cahners Business Information.

VOYA

Hobb concludes her Liveship Traders trilogy with this epic work that follows Mad Ship (Bantam, 1999/VOYA December 1999) and Ship of Magic (Bantam, 1998/VOYA October 1998). It takes the entire novel for the various story lines to converge. Sea serpents struggle to follow their instincts to migrate somewhere, a mighty dragon will do anything to preserve her lineage, and the once-thriving port of Bingtown nearly is ruined by war and dissention among the Trader families. Stuck with rescuing the spoiled leader referred to as Satrap, Malta Vestrit nearly loses her own life but ultimately comes into her own as a shrewd negotiator and the beloved of Reyn of the Rain Wild Traders. Piloting the "mad ship" Paragon, Althea Vestrit and Brashen continue their quest to recover Vivacia, the stolen Vestrit liveship, which is under the command of the complex pirate king, Kennit. Readers finally learn the secret behind wizardwood, the material from which liveships are constructed, and come to understand the painful connections between the ships, the serpents, and the dragons. The source of Paragon's insanity also is discovered in conjunction with revelations of Kennit's sexually abusive childhood and subsequent ruthless behavior. This amazing trilogy captures myth and swashbuckling nautical action along with political intrigue and love. Magic and heroics abound, but the characterizations are still realistic enough to believe. Although some might argue that Hobb ties up loose ends too rapidly toward the end, she also leaves some intriguing threads dangling￯﾿ﾽperhaps for a follow-up series? One can only hope! VOYA CODES: 4Q 4P S A/YA (Better than most, marred only by occasional lapses; Broad general YAappeal; Senior High, defined as grades 10 to 12; Adult and Young Adult). 2000, Bantam Spectra, 592p. Ages 16 to Adult. Reviewer: Bette Ammon VOYA, February 2001 (Vol. 23, No.6)

VOYA - Kathleen Hutchins

A liveship, made of mysterious wizardwood, can sail like no other. Each ship, built for one specific family, will only respond properly under a family member's direction. The liveship Vivacia should be making the fortune of the Vestrit family, whom we first meet shortly before Captain Ephron dies while aboard, quickening the ship to her full potential. It appears the family will be able to repay its huge debt with Althea, Ephron's second daughter, sailing the ship. However, politics and policies interfere. Acting captain Kyle, Ephron's first daughter's husband, bans Althea from her own ship. Shocked, she flees her family and society's expectations in a desperate bid to regain the Vivacia. Because he is not a Vestrit by blood, Kyle calls for his son Wintrow, a priest of Sa, who has no knowledge of sailing or desire to leave his vocation. Attempting to escape his fate, Wintrow flees the ship. Wintrow's sister Malta is made of sterner stuff, like most Vestrit women, but she is very young and selfish. Her shenanigans immerse the family into worse political and financial problems. As the Vestrit family struggles to make its fortune, so does the pirate Kennit. His two overwhelming desires are to become King of the Pirates, and to own a liveship. The Vestrits's adventures are skillfully interwoven with those of Kennit and his pirate crew and issues of human rights, religion, politics, and tradition versus innovation. The reader is constantly drawn along in this complex but well-knit plot, anticipating resolution but often surprised by a new twist of events. As this first book in the Liveship Traders series nears its conclusion, several new elements are introduced but not resolved. This rollicking tale will leave readers hungering for the next installment. VOYA Codes: 3Q 2P S (Readable without serious defects, For the YA with a special interest in the subject, Senior High-defined as grades 10 to 12).

KLIATT

The second volume in this fantasy author's doorstop trilogy about the sentient Liveships and those who would captain them, Mad Ship more than delivers on the promise of the first volume. Having established a rich milieu and a strong cast of characters in Ship of Magic (reviewed in KLIATT in July 1999), Hobb does much more than just push these characters around while she winds up the tension in preparation for volume three. In this outing, the Liveship Vivacia has been seized by the pirate Kennit, while young Wintrow, who as a blood-member of the Vestrit family has a unique claim on Vivacia, struggles to hold her loyalty and keep her nature from being distorted. Althea Vestrit, who has long striven to become Vivacia's captain, teams up with Brashen Trell in the risky enterprise of rehabilitating Paragon, the beached "mad ship" of the title, and use him to rescue Vivacia. As always, the sea serpents roil and wander, trying to recall their history and return to their place of renewal. Hobb truly justifies the sometimes-wearisome fantasy conventions of extreme length and myriad viewpoints in this sequel—the characterizations and overall quality of the writing are excellent and the story keeps the reader's attention. (The Liveship Traders, Bk. 2) KLIATT Codes: SA—Recommended for senior high school students, advanced students, and adults. 1999, Bantam/Spectra, 850p, 18cm, $6.99. Ages 16 to adult. Reviewer: Lisa Firke; Freelance Writer, Wallingford, CT, July 2000 (Vol. 34 No. 4)

Library Journal

Unaware of the war that threatens the trading families of Bingtown, Althea Vestrit searches the sea lanes for her stolen liveship--only to discover the truth behind the origin of the sentient vessels. Hobb combines a unique fantasy vision with themes of devotion and selflessness to produce a powerful conclusion to an innovative saga. Highly recommended, along with series predecessors Ship of Magic and Mad Ship, for all fantasy collections. Copyright 2000 Cahners Business Information.\ Read all 8 "From The Critics" >

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