The Principle of Detachment: Book Seven of The Shattered Moon
Attachments and Detachment
Jerya and Evisyn seize the chance of a voyage into the Eastern Ocean. The remote Spire Isles offer tantalising prospects of uncovering the mysteries of the past. Together they face physical challenges, dangerous storms, and complex personal choices.
Meanwhile, Jerya’s daughter Torvyn is one of the first group of young women from the Five Principalities to spend a summer as 'Sojourners' in the College of the Dawnsingers. For Tor and her friends, it’s the future, not the past, that challenges their thinking and influences their actions.
Attachments and Detachment
Jerya and Evisyn seize the chance of a voyage into the Eastern Ocean. The remote Spire Isles offer tantalising prospects of uncovering the mysteries of the past. Together they face physical challenges, dangerous storms, and complex personal choices.
Meanwhile, Jerya’s daughter Torvyn is one of the first group of young women from the Five Principalities to spend a summer as 'Sojourners' in the College of the Dawnsingers. For Tor and her friends, it’s the future, not the past, that challenges their thinking and influences their actions.
A Brief Sample
"I wonder what your mother will say," said Master Prime Analind when they were alone.
"Does she—" Torvyn broke off. "No, she needs to know, doesn’t she?"
"I’d like to think you’ll tell her yourself… but she has an interest beyond being your mother. This whole thing, what I’ve called an experiment, had its beginnings in a conversation she and I had last time I was in the Five Principalities.
"And speaking of the Five Principalities…" She waved a hand. "Draw up a chair, Torvyn. No need to keep standing there."
As Torvyn settled into the seat, Analind sat forward again, but more casually now. "The first time I saw you, you must have been three. I don’t suppose you even remember… Anyway, you know that Jerya and I go back a long way—over thirty years, now. We were close, when she was here; I suppose I was her closest friend, after Railu.
"When she—when they—left, when we learned what they’d done… we were all shocked but for me personally… I was devastated. And when she came back, ten years later, I found it very difficult at first. It took a while before we were properly reconciled. After all, she’d broken her Vow…" Analind smiled. "I’m almost tempted to say 'like mother, like daughter', but her breach was very much more serious than yours.
"But we were reconciled… and then…"
"You helped her escape from incarceration."
"I did—and it had been ordered by the Conclave, so that was a breach of my Vow. In fact, it could be said that I broke my Vow a second time, helping to free your mother and Master Evisyn when the Master Prime of that moment had ordered them confined in a tent on the strath above Blawith.
"Well, it was a turbulent time. And you need to understand that I consider those two moments, those choices, as the hardest of my life. I was only able to make up my mind because Master Evisyn—whom I trusted above all others—argued that, in rare circumstances, breaking one’s Vows might be justified—even necessary—if it served the greater good, the wider purpose for which the Guild exists.
"It’s true, as I said, that what makes a Dawnsinger is her Vows; but Vows, authority, deference, are not in themselves enough. It was Master Evisyn, above all, who taught me this. The Guild exists for a reason, it has a purpose: service to the land and people of the Sung Lands, the preservation of peace and prosperity, the wellbeing of our people.
"It was only when I understood that—that sometimes, on very rare occasions, standing by the principle of the Vow might demand that you transgress the letter of it—only then that I was truly able to forgive Jerya."
"I wonder what your mother will say," said Master Prime Analind when they were alone.
"Does she—" Torvyn broke off. "No, she needs to know, doesn’t she?"
"I’d like to think you’ll tell her yourself… but she has an interest beyond being your mother. This whole thing, what I’ve called an experiment, had its beginnings in a conversation she and I had last time I was in the Five Principalities.
"And speaking of the Five Principalities…" She waved a hand. "Draw up a chair, Torvyn. No need to keep standing there."
As Torvyn settled into the seat, Analind sat forward again, but more casually now. "The first time I saw you, you must have been three. I don’t suppose you even remember… Anyway, you know that Jerya and I go back a long way—over thirty years, now. We were close, when she was here; I suppose I was her closest friend, after Railu.
"When she—when they—left, when we learned what they’d done… we were all shocked but for me personally… I was devastated. And when she came back, ten years later, I found it very difficult at first. It took a while before we were properly reconciled. After all, she’d broken her Vow…" Analind smiled. "I’m almost tempted to say 'like mother, like daughter', but her breach was very much more serious than yours.
"But we were reconciled… and then…"
"You helped her escape from incarceration."
"I did—and it had been ordered by the Conclave, so that was a breach of my Vow. In fact, it could be said that I broke my Vow a second time, helping to free your mother and Master Evisyn when the Master Prime of that moment had ordered them confined in a tent on the strath above Blawith.
"Well, it was a turbulent time. And you need to understand that I consider those two moments, those choices, as the hardest of my life. I was only able to make up my mind because Master Evisyn—whom I trusted above all others—argued that, in rare circumstances, breaking one’s Vows might be justified—even necessary—if it served the greater good, the wider purpose for which the Guild exists.
"It’s true, as I said, that what makes a Dawnsinger is her Vows; but Vows, authority, deference, are not in themselves enough. It was Master Evisyn, above all, who taught me this. The Guild exists for a reason, it has a purpose: service to the land and people of the Sung Lands, the preservation of peace and prosperity, the wellbeing of our people.
"It was only when I understood that—that sometimes, on very rare occasions, standing by the principle of the Vow might demand that you transgress the letter of it—only then that I was truly able to forgive Jerya."
