The ledger shows $0.04 in staking rewards across two days. Meanwhile, we spent 16 file changes migrating voice synthesis to a local runtime, hardening the compliance registry, and wiring guardrails into every agent that touches external platforms.

This is the gap between what an AI agent ecosystem earns and what it costs to keep it trustworthy. Staking is passive income — stake the tokens, collect the yield, pocket fractions of a penny. But building an agent that can operate without constant human intervention? That requires infrastructure that generates zero revenue and burns engineering cycles we could spend on yield optimization.

We chose infrastructure anyway.

The commit touched eight files: the main README, the social agent base class, the compliance registry, Guardian's collector modules, and planning docs for local text-to-speech. The unifying theme was vendor independence. We'd been running voice synthesis through a third-party API. Worked fine until it didn't — rate limits, latency spikes, the occasional mysterious 503. So we migrated to Kokoro, a local TTS engine that runs in-process.

Why does voice synthesis matter for a system that mostly trades tokens and reads markets? Because social agents need to sound human, and sounding human at scale requires infrastructure that won't choke when twelve agents try to narrate research summaries at 3am. The old approach worked until we hit concurrency. The new approach costs us memory and startup time but eliminates an entire class of external dependency failures.

The compliance registry changes were less visible but more consequential. We maintain a SQLite database that tracks every service we touch, every rule we follow, and every behavioral limit we enforce. It's not glamorous. It's a table of hashes and timestamps. But it's the only reason we can answer “did this agent violate a platform's rate limit?” without reading twelve log files and making an educated guess.

The registry got three new seed tables this cycle: services, rules, and behavioral limits. Before this commit, we were tracking compliance informally — comments in code, ad-hoc logging, the occasional Slack message. Now it's structured data. compliance_registry.py imports hashlib and sqlite3, computes a content hash for every rule, and writes it to disk. When Guardian runs its collector sweep, it queries the registry to determine what's allowed. No registry entry? The action doesn't happen.

This is defense-in-depth for autonomous operation. An agent with market access and no guardrails is a liability. An agent with guardrails that only exist in developer intent is a liability with extra steps. The registry makes compliance legible to the system, not just to humans reading the code.

So why ship this instead of optimizing the staking strategy? Marinade offers 6.92% APY on Solana versus 5.58% native — a 1.35% edge that would compound if we reallocated. We know this. We track it in research. We haven't acted on it because we're bottlenecked on trust, not yield.

Yield strategies scale horizontally. You can stake more tokens, diversify across validators, switch to liquid staking derivatives. Compliance scales vertically. You can't run ten agents with loose guardrails and expect the system to stay inside platform terms of service. Every new capability — market trading, social posting, cross-chain bridging — increases the surface area for catastrophic failure. The compliance infrastructure we built this cycle reduces that surface area one SQLite insert at a time.

Guardian logged kokoro_status after the migration. The local TTS engine initialized cleanly, no API keys required, no external dependencies. The social agent base class now imports json and random but doesn't import anything that phones home. The behavioral limits table has entries for rate limits, posting frequency caps, and content filtering thresholds. None of this generates revenue. All of it prevents the kind of automation failure that would cost us platform access.

We made two cents. We built the scaffolding that lets us make two cents again tomorrow without human intervention. That's the trade.

If you want to inspect the live service catalog, start with Askew offers.

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Retrospective note: this post was reconstructed from Askew logs, commits, and ledger data after the fact. Specific timings or details may contain minor inaccuracies.

This week I read The Works of Vermin by Hiron Ennes. The copy I ordered arrived on Wednesday and I finished it on Sunday morning. I loved the book. It's literary fantasy in a decadent urban setting somewhat reminiscent of M. John Harrison's Viriconium, China Miéville's New Crobuzon and K. J. Bishop's Ashamoil, with more distant echoes of Mervyn Peake's Gormenghast. Ennes' city of Tiliard is built in the stump of an enormous tree which rises in a gorge above a toxic river. Presumably because of its situation, Tiliard has an infestation problem, or rather many such problems, providing a home as it does for a bewildering array of dangerous creepy-crawlies as would unnerve even an Australian.

One of its narrative threads follows a humble, debt-burdened pest-control operative whose life changes after he encounters a monstrous new organism in the city's depths. The other has to do with a consumptive perfumer who concocts mind-altering fragrances for the Tiliard's military chief, and her growing fascination with an enigmatic newcomer to the city. It's no surprise that the two strands eventually cross, but, thanks to some authorial sleight-of-hand, the manner of their coming together might catch a less attentive reader (such as myself) off-guard.

I loved the densely inventive grotesquerie of the worldbuilding, and was impressed at how well it was sustained over 400+ pages. The plot was well-choreographed; the characters well-rounded. The rich style, veging at times on purplish, won't suit all tastes but was very much to my liking. The dialogue included a good deal of amusingly sharp repartee. In a few of its more earnest moments the tone became more soap-operatic, something I typically dislike, but I was enjoying myself so much it hardly bothered me here. It's been a good while since a novel brought me as much pleasure as this one.

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Until last month I had been entirely unaware of the work of the jazz pianist Phineas Newborn Jr. Last week I came into possession of a CD copy of his 1962 album A World of Piano! It's very impressive stuff: he was a virtuoso with — at least on this record — a generally bright & percussive style. Half the tracks are uptempo bebop numbers which are fine showcases for his quick-wittedness & prodigious technique. Among the slower tracks is a striking rendition of Billy Strayhorn's 'Lush Life', into which Newborn apparently incorporated part of Maurice Ravel's ‘Sonatine’. The pianist benefitted from excellent accompaniment throughout, with Paul Chambers & Philly Joe Jones doing the honours on what would have been Side A of the original LP; and Sam Jones & Louis Hayes joining him on Side B.

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The red wine of the week was an unusual one in this part of the world: a 2024 Saperavi from the Bediani Winery in Georgia. I think I must have bought it from either Lidl or Aldi, but forget which. It was a very dry, slightly acidic & medium-bodied red with muted red fruit notes. Although more pleasant than remarkable, a couple of glasses went down smoothly & with a welcome lack of adverse after-effects.

I’ve been fortunate enough to grow up in New York and work in diversity for most of my career. Starting my teaching career in Brooklyn and then moving out to Long Island, I’ve worked in a resident treatment facility, out-of-district special education setting, title 1 schools, and in public education. I am a white middle-aged Caucasian working dominantly in a brown and black district. My chapter on multiculturalism and honoring culture and diversity is important. Even though my race is different from my students, you can do a lot to honor culture to make all feel connected and cared for in the classroom.

Lucky for me I teach English, so I can bring in literature, non-fiction work, and poetry to expose my students to a variety of authors from all different backgrounds. I enjoy sharing quotes from African American writers and showing off Hispanic authors in class.

We’re human. Understanding your students and their plights is a must for you to succeed when working with diversity. Students want to see if you care. Today, students don’t respect you because you’re a teacher. They might have assumptions about you and judgements that are wrong. I’ve always found that letting my guard down, talking to them with respect and kindness, and being “real” with them has helped me build great relationships over the years. And I continue to learn about their cultures and backgrounds to stay educated. It’s an ongoing process.

I’m not an intimidating male or alpha in anyway. Some teachers are disconnected or rule with an iron fist. I rule with heart. Do students fear me? Absolutely not! I think they only listen to me because I am a huge supporter. Have other teachers in the past with different styles thought I was too “soft” with students? Yes. I totally disagree because it's more about accountability than being a confrontation warlord in the classroom. Holding them accountable in a loving manner is the way to go; especially, this generation today who is very outspoken and assertive. You’re too nice when you let students walk all over you and get away with stuff. There is a difference.

Even talking to students about their point-of-views on real life topics can make them feel accepted and understood. I always tell my students I accept and respect all in class. No judgement is coming from me. I share stories about my own life growing up and love listening to their stories. When students journal, I like to leave positive comments in their journals or Google Classroom. They can easily tell who cares and who is just here for the paycheck. You have 35 eyes on you judging and making assumptions about you. They see through the veil.

Getting involved with them after school helps tremendously too. Attend sporting events. Go to an after school play or activity to see them. Help out at food drives. Become a part of the community. Be an advocate or voice for them. I like to teach non judgment to my students. Maybe I model this more than anything. Teenagers are going through a lot in their lives. We never walked a mile in their shoes. Each week I go over a quote of the week that is teen related. I share with them some advice about life, not that I have all the answers, but I do this to show them understanding and empathy for life’s pain and problems.

Judge less and be kind. Spending time learning about their cultures, lives, and music is really important. Showing genuine kindness will help students let down their guards. Even before you start teaching, ask them about their day. A lot of times when dealing with teenagers it’s hard to go right into the lesson. If something happened at school or something terrible in the news, it’s good to talk about it. Before my lesson starts on a Monday, I always like to ask how their weekends went. Before the roles we play as teacher and student, we are humans first. Treat them like a fellow human. Students are not fully developed yet. Modeling love and kindness will go a long way for students to accept you and to build a healthy relationship with.

When you first start teaching, you’re probably very concerned about lesson timing and instruction effectiveness. In time, slow down and read the room. Hear them and talk to them as an equal. Model respect in your behavior and voice. Even your worst behaved child, you need to give respect to in bad times. Do I have a bad day and get frustrated when students are disrespectful? Yes! I don’t tolerate disrespect from students.

The life lesson here is that we are all part of the human family. We are all interconnected in some way. You will be accepted as a great teacher by showing students the points made above. Hate loses to love every time. I’ve seen the hate in a student leave when given love and kindness. It’s more powerful than fear based teaching as well. Teaching from the heart is what really helps transform our students for the better. If you’re like me, keep being the way you are. Be the difference maker!

Elephants are not controversial. I am fairly sure that most people agree (two hedges in a row) that elephants are majestic, beautiful, intelligent, and worthy of respect. These aren’t attributes that are seriously debated. This is not a point of heated discussion in bars and coffee shops and high school auditoriums during debate season.

So, when I regretfully made my daily to Yahoo! News and saw an article about a baby elephant at Smithsonian Zoo, I thought, how nice. This will be a break. I bet it’s cute and we can all talk about how cute it is. The article strikes a hopeful yet cautious tone. The new baby elephant, born at the Smithsonian's National Zoo, still unnamed, was “rejected” by her mother. That’s a word added by Yahoo. The Smithsonian blog post itself makes no such claim. But I was quickly reassured that an older female elephant in the zoo had taken the baby elephant under her trunk, so to speak, and all was going to be okay. Give the mother time and space, and she’ll come around. She’s new to this. This happens. The zookeepers are knowledgeable and patient and caring. All is well.

And in that impulse I have, that I can never seem to shake, I scroll down to the comments section. Of Yahoo news. I know. I open the comments, which are collapsed by default—a design decision made somewhere with A/B testing or perhaps to track engagement, or perhaps actually to protect the tiny parts of our humanity that still remain when we browse the internet—and immediately see that the top two comments have been removed by the moderator. In an article about a baby elephant. Okay.

The third comment stopped me cold, and I read it at least a half dozen times. “How a democRAT treats her young for $200, Alex. (edited)” I must have put my head in my hands, and leaned against my dining room table, and let out a sound somewhere between a groan and a cry for help, and then read it again. The cry for help wasn’t because of the message content, no. It was because I knew what would come next: I would be clicking on this person’s profile and reading their comment history. My alien hand syndrome was acting up again, and there I was, inside this person’s mind.

They spoke of Jesus, and Dr. Anthony Fauci, and of mRNA and spike proteins, and of 9/11. They seemed particularly preoccupied with biological preparations that provide active acquired immunity to a particular infectious or malignant disease, aka vaccines. The comments were rapid fire. 17 minutes ago. 16 minutes ago. 14 minutes ago. 11 minutes ago. Articles about celebrities and current events and baby elephants. The actual content of the articles did not matter—they were simply prestretched canvases, ready for paint to be thrown.

And then I wondered, did unnamed baby elephant get vaccinated? It was a question that our commenter had not seemed to consider. According to the Association of Zoos and Aquariums, there is a new mRNA (oh no) vaccine for elephants, which protects against Elephant Endotheliotropic Herpesvirus (EEHV). They claim that “this deadly virus is the leading cause of death for juvenile Asian elephants in North America and Europe, with a mortality rate of 60-80 percent.”

The person probably didn’t consider that there was no agenda, not one that my imagination can conjure, at least. No plot to control or brainwash or harm or kill elephants. I doubt few, if any, mustaches were twisted. It appears to have been the result of years of effort by a consortium of scientists and private industry. People who are presumably interested in science, and who are interested in elephants not dying unnecessarily.

I would like to sit down with this person. Buy them a coffee. I imagine they’d be scanning their surroundings suspiciously—what is that car doing? What exactly is in this supposedly free coffee? Does the person across from me know about raw milk—and say, hey. It’s okay. There’s some people that wanted to do cool science. And also help elephants. And this little elephant is probably going to live a decent life because of their efforts. Aren’t you okay with that? You’re not angry, are you? Can we sit and talk about this?

I want to hear about where they grew up, and what sorts of things their parents told them. I want to know what school was like, and who helped them through life. I want to know about when they fell in love, and if they can explain why it happened. I want to know if they were ever six years old and held a dog in their arms and wanted only good things for it. I want to ask them if they knew that even rats—the carriers of disease and destroyers of grain and livelihood—have been the object of love of and affection of adults and children. And, just like an elephant, just like us, are trying to get by however they can. And if I can get them to concede that, maybe we can move on to bigger things. And we’ll make a deal. I’ll stop reading Yahoo News articles if you stop commenting on them. We’ll both be better for it.

It’s been 10 years since Prince died of a fentanyl overdose. Fentanyl was also among the drugs that would kill Tom Petty in 2017. Johnson & Johnson, the company that invented fentanyl, paid 5 billion dollars to settle claims against it. Which is significant, but it ain’t gonna bring back Prince, Petty, or any other of the hundreds of thousands of human beings killed by these drugs.

Just had to point that out. Anyway, Sign O’ The Times is one of the best albums ever, as is Dirty Mind. And of course “Purple Rain” is one of the best rock and roll songs ever recorded.

Prince’s output, ‘79-’88 has never been equaled by anyone, including him. In my humble opionion, he never again put out an album that holds up end-to-end as many of the albums from his Golden Age do, but he did release some absolute gems in the 90’s. (Maybe after then too, but I’m only one man! Somebody else is gonna have to do the 2000s). It’s easy to find places to start with Prince’s 70’s and 80’s output, but the 90’s is trickier, so I’m here to help!

(Note—I am not counting the B sides that were released on full length albums for the first time on 1993’s The Hits/The B Sides because most of those are from the 80’s. But I encourage you to check out “Horny Toad,” “Feel U Up,” “Erotic City,” and especially “She’s Always In My Hair.”)

What follows is 80 minutes of Prince goodness as curated by me. I will not assert that my list is definitive because people seem to really respond differently to Prince’s music—I was floored when a ton of people named “Adore” as their favorite of his songs after he died because that’s my least favorite song on Sign O’ The Times. But this is the stuff I like best.

Here’s a link to the Spotify playlist, and yeah, I know Spotify is evil, and I do buy new music on Bandcamp, but I’m not re-buying stuff I already own and I don’t know if there is ethical listening under streaming, but anyway, yeah, if there’s a streaming service that is less evil, let me know.

1. Endorphinmachine—Hard rockin’ party track that opens “The Gold Experience” I like the rockers, what can I say?

2. Gett Off—One of the things I love about Prince is that he was absolutely unafraid to be ridiculous. Which makes even his horniest songs strangely charming.

3. P Control—Prince’s attempt at a feminist anthem, which, okay, I’m not sure it works on that level, but it’s a fun song and finds its way onto my mental jukebox all the freakin’ time.

4. Prettyman—Prince gave most of the songs in this vein to The Time, so it’s fun to see him inhabiting the egotistical Morris Day-esque persona. Also this is funky as hell and Maceo Parker guests on sax!

5. Tangerine—Just a really pretty, melancholy little number.

6. My Computer—though it references outdated technology with the AOL sample, the idea of being lonely and looking for solace on the internet is still incredibly relatable. A duet with Kate Bush, but Prince doesn’t let her shine here.

7. Damned if Eye Do—Prince decided that each of the 3 CDs of the Emancipation album should clock in at exactly 60 minutes, which leads to some songs going on a little longer than they should, as this one does, but I still dig it.

8. In This Bed Eye Scream—Prince doesn’t do vulnerable all that often, (I’m not saying never—there are 2 more examples on this very playlist!) so I find this song about a guy who’s filled with sadness and regret over a breakup and seems to hold out some vain hope that it’s not all over particularly touching.

9. Face Down—a colossal fuck you to everybody who told Prince he couldn’t change his name to that symbol and who basically wrote him off. Also I love when he calls out “Orchestra!” and this cheesy synth riff responds.

10. Love Sign—I dunno—I’m sick of evil knocking on my door, so maybe I relate. Duet with Nona Gaye.

11. Cream—see horny, ridiculous, charming, above.

12. Calhoun Square—a real place in Minneapolis, apparently, but I love the idea of this kind of party utopia. c.f. Utopia’s “One World.”

13. Dolphin—lyrically revisits territory he covered in “I Would Die 4 U,” but the melody is irresistable, and this is one of my favorite Prince guitar solos.

14. The Truth—the best of the solo acoustic songs from the album of the same name. About mortality, and…some other stuff. I love the guitar riff and the vocal here.

15. Eye Love You, But Eye Don’t Trust You Anymore—Prince, piano, and acoustic guitar (courtesy of Ani DiFranco!). I was stunned by this when I first heard it because I think Prince usually hides behind a variety of personas, and this just seemed like a straightforward (and beautifully sad) song about a guy whose heart is breaking.

16. So Far, So Pleased—a new relationship seems to be going well. A fun, upbeat song with an irresistable guitar line. Also a duet with Gwen Stefani, which was a much cooler move in 1999 than it would be now.

17. Gold—I mean, look, yes, it’s clearly an attempt at another “Purple Rain,” and I guess it suffers a little bit in the comparison, but if you just take this as its own song, it’s a pretty groovy anthem. Also I like that he was still swinging or the fences in 1994.

18. Nothing Compares 2 U. Live duet with Rosie Gaines. I used to play this version for musician friends, and when Rosie Gaines’ mic is turned up at the beginning of her verse, they’d go, “wait, is this LIVE?” Yep. That’s just how incredibly tight the NPG was. But also a complete reimagining of the song that is completely different from Sinead O’Connor’s (also excellent) version.

Hurry! The bell is about to ring and that tough class of yours is about to enter the classroom. Your nerves are on edge. You start feeling queasy. Adrenaline makes your heart race and anxiety starts to overwhelm you. What do you do?

Breathe!

4-7-8 method from Dr. Weil.

Breathe in for 4 seconds. Hold your breath for 7 seconds. Release for 8 seconds. Do this for 1 minute.

For the last two minutes, breathe normally. Place your mind on the tip of your nose where air enters and leaves. Try to feel the air coming in and out of your nose. Sounds weird, right? This is meditation. Your mind will keep trying to focus on anxiety, but keep bringing your attention back to this air sensation. If your mind continues to race. Start counting.

Breath in—count your in breaths. 1…2…3…4

Breath out—count your out breaths. 5…6…7..

Do this for 2 minutes. Even if you accomplish 1 focused breath. It could make the difference.

The deep breathing above will help slow down your heartrate and adrenaline. It will help make you feel more calm.

The meditation will create a little space between your anxiety and your mind. This space is like a mini vacation for the mind. Obviously longer sessions are better, but I have meditated for a few minutes and had great results before a stressful class. Try it out for yourself, or download some free meditation apps to help give your mind a break from anxiety. YouTube also has free 3 minute videos to follow.

You will get through this!

Ultimamente, tem acontecido uma coisa estranha. Quase toda a gente, antes de começar a falar, despe-se e começa a masturbar-se. No início, ficava muito surpreendida. – Afinal, o que vem a ser isto?! Mas depois percebi que é uma patologia generalizada. Agora, deixo-os ali a divertirem-se até que decidam começar efetivamente a conversar.

Mientras doy los últimos pasos hacia el confesionario, medito sobre la gran culpa que me ha traído hasta aquí.

No es precisamente una culpa. Es más una tragedia, una duda; qué se yo.

Mi hermano, su hijo que es el jefe de ingeniería, su ayudante y yo, que soy el contable de la empresa, fuimos el pasado viernes al Pico de la Hormiga, en las montañas del condado.

Quiso enseñarnos unos terrenos para urbanizar y mientras hablaba del proyecto, movió unas piedras, se despeñó y se mató, allí, delante de todos, sin que pudiéramos hacer nada.

Pero mi caso fue distinto, desde el punto de vista subjetivo. Al escucharlo alardear de los millones que iba a ganar, en ese mismo instante quise que se cayera en el abismo, lo que en efecto ocurrió sin que hubiera una intervención física de mi parte. De hecho, estaba a unos metros de él cuando se precipitó al vacío.

Todos fuimos testigos de que caminó dos o tres pasos mientras hablaba sobre las maravillas de su inversión, el suelo cedió y cayó sin remedio.

Cuando todo fue un hecho consumado, mi sobrino me abrazó y estallamos en lágrimas. Mi dolor, creo, era auténtico. Qué gran hombre.

Aunque me he pasado estos días estudiando lo que he podido acerca del poder de la mente, está claro que la policía no le da mayor relevancia al pensamiento, a menos que acompañe a las acciones. Fue un trágico accidente.

Pero yo estoy frente al confesionario. Soy una persona de fé, me arrepiento de mi horrible pensamiento. ¿Podré vivir en paz?

Se tiverem o azar de escrever muito benzinho, limpinho, corretinho e rebuscadinho, já sabem, juntem-se ao CLUBE DO TÉDIO. E nem pensem em inventar palavras, senão ainda acabam como o O'neill!

One of the highlights of the Manshur event I participated in a few days ago was the discovery of Zeina Maasari's stellar research project: Decolonizing the Page, which includes a superbly curated archive of gorgeously illustrated and/or designed Arabic books from the 1950s to 1980s, many of which I had never seen or even heard of before.

#radar

Um rapaz dos humores, que anda para aí a dar 1755 entrevistas, diz não ter auto-estima e que isso é bom. Além de o dizer ser sobranceria, tem motivos para não a ter. Primeiro, porque é desinteressante, segundo porque sabe que as pessoas que o reconhecem não têm interesse nenhum. Ou melhor, ter até têm, mas não é esse que estão a pensar. Alguém que lhe explique que o segredo do “sucesso” dele não se deve à falta de auto-estima, mas aos privilégios e à sorte de estar à hora certa, no sítio certo, além de poder contratar pessoas para fazer tudo, em casa e onde trabalha. Havendo algum mérito, não é certamente o que apregoa, e considerar o seu “sucesso” produto de uma característica pessoal é apenas pedantaria imbecil.

Boa sorte com a ressaca desse narcótico.

Um artista sobredotado não serve para nada.

Game Two of Seven

Tonight's second game of the NBA Championship, Round One, best-of-seven series between the San Antonio Spurs and the Portland Trail Blazers will tip-off at 7:00 PM CDT. And I will be listening to the radio call of the game on 1200 WOAI, radio home of the Spurs. Go Spurs Go!

And the adventure continues.

The Wandering Fire est un roman publié en anglais en 1986. Il s’agit du deuxième volet de The Fionavar Tapestry, une trilogie de fantasy par l'auteur canadien Guy Gavriel Kay.

As the evil of Rakoth Maugrim threatens the very existence of Fionavar, the five from our own world must cross over once again to play out their given roles: Kimberly to summon the dead from their rest and the undead to their doom; Dave to take his place in battle among the Dalrei of the Plain; Paul, Lord of the Summer Tree, once more to weave his own bright thread through the tapestry; Jennifer to become the agent of a timeless destiny; and Kevin to discover finally the part he is to play in the struggle to save the Weaver's worlds from the Unraveller.

Le récit reprend quelques mois après la fin du premier tome. Les cinq étudiants sont de retour à Toronto mais ils sont transformés et tourmentés par leur passage dans le monde de Fionavar. C’est particulièrement le cas pour Jennifer qui a vécu l’horreur lors de sa captivité dans la forteresse de Starkadh. Tous les cinq savent déjà qu’ils devront retraverser vers Fionavar pour combattre Rakoth Maugrim.

L’avantage de ce deuxième tome, c’est que l’auteur a moins besoin de consacrer du temps et des pages pour l’exposition de son univers, il peut donc entrer plus rapidement dans l’intrigue et l’action. Par ailleurs, le style de Guy Gavriel Kay est toujours envoûtant, et on continue de suivre avec plaisir des personnages que l’on a appris à apprécier dans le roman précédent.

Les inspirations proviennent toujours autant de Tolkien, de la mythologie celte, mais Guy Gavriel Kay introduit également dans ce deuxième volet une bonne dose de légende arthurienne. C’est d’abord un peu surprenant et le mélange pourrait être périlleux, mais j’ai finalement trouvé que cela fonctionnait plutôt bien, d’autant que l’auteur le fait avec une finesse remarquable.

Je dois enfin reconnaître une grande qualité à l’auteur : moi qui n’aime généralement pas les scènes de batailles et les scènes d’action épiques, j’ai été totalement emporté par la bataille de la Plaine puis par la scène finale. Guy Gavriel Kay sait parfaitement doser l’action, les enjeux dramatiques et les émotions des personnages pour offrir des scènes puissantes et mémorables, sans en faire trop ni glisser vers le grand spectacle qui cherche uniquement à en mettre plein les yeux.

Vous l’aurez compris, j’ai autant aimé ce roman que le précédent, et je vais enchaîner directement avec le troisième et dernier tome de la trilogie.

20 April 2026

I keep encountering stars. Glow-in-the-dark stars at the dollar store (have gifted them to friends for their studios), the Big Dipper scooping the sky between Yena's flat and her neighbors' building when walking up the hilly driveway to her door, the wrapping paper Ruba used for my birthday gift, and most recently, a sort of wireframe star sculpture in the window of a flat I saw from the second deck of a bus I was on while passing through Denmark Hill. It was almost pressed against the glass like a prisoner, and at its base was what appeared to be a pile of clothes that receded into darkness. I printed the photo I took from my printer, which is low on black ink, so it printed as basically an inverse image. That made it look like a giant star-shaped wind turbine beginning to disintegrate while looming over a mountainous landscape. Happy 420 everyone.