This page provides information and commentary specifically about the novel Red Rover and CONTAINS SPOILERS. Read with caution.
For broader, spoiler-free information about Cislunar and its major institutions, see the World Guide for Across the Line. Each Across the Line novel scholia page provides a more detailed description of the other three protagonists: Arcady Lorencz (Hopscotch), Tegeus Droit (Red Rover), Axton (Twenty Questions), and Michael Aronson (Catch).
TABLE OF CONTENTS:
Dramatis Personae: Tegeus Droit • Arcady Lorencz • Axton • Michael Aronson • Cardinal Croix • Elliot Chime • Ban Jaspin •
Miscellanea: Might • The Line • Freedom Marks •
Tegeus Droit: M / 43 / Long blond hair often pulled back in a ponytail, green eyes. Michael Aronson’s cousin — his father, Dominic Aronson, was brother to Michael’s father. As “Yzyrche’s Hound,” Droit was a ruthless general who worked as a mercenary for anyone willing to hire him and his troops to do their dirty work for them. His fixed-balesword Might is a weapon of legend, possibly sentient in its own right or at the very least a channel for Yzyrchye’s will. Some as-yet unrevealed event persuaded Tegeus to renounce Yzyrche and return home to Cislunar, where his only surviving relative, Michael Aronson, still lives. Sovereign Domenico Lament granted him sanctuary within the city boundaries, although that doesn’t stop assassins from targeting him on a regular basis.
Tegeus had a terrible childhood and grew up to be a terrible man, in part because of his pact with Yzyrchye, but don’t assume all of his problems have environmental causes; some have to do with the way he’s been wired from birth. He has an addictive personality and is interpersonally needy, although that’s well-hidden under a ruthless exterior. There’s a reason he returned to Cislunar, though, after he retired — even though he scoffs at his cousin, he made his way back home for a reason.
Since hanging up Might, he’s struggled to find his way in a world that mostly reviles and bores him. He moderates his violent tendencies in Cislunar in order to stay in the sovereign’s good graces and has had too much time to reflect on his past and the likely direction of his future. This self-reflection has led him to realize that he doesn’t like losing control anymore, they way he did when he was under Might’s influence, which has resulted in his eschewing alcohol and exerting not-quite-OCD-level control over his home environment and diet. Lorencz’s request for help became a lifeline for him, showing him a way he might be able to vent some of his need to bully and harm in a more socially acceptable venue — as a city constable. The grudging acknowledgement working for the city has gotten from his cousin and others is also important to him, although he’d be loathe to admit it.
I am trying to walk a narrow line with Tegeus. He did terrible, possibly even unforgivable, things in his past, especially under Might’s influence, and I want the story to acknowledge that and take it seriously but not become fixated on it. Because he’s also trying, in his own psychologically limited way, to redeem himself, which is the focus of his character development over the series — what it takes, and the extent to which he needs to accept help to attain it. If I were to put Tegeus in AD&D terms, he’d be a chaotic evil character who is slowly working toward lawful evil, or maybe lawful neutral at best. He’ll never be good, but assuaging his deep need for acceptance by aligning himself with the right causes and people would do a lot to inhibit his worst impulses. I don’t necessarily expect readers to like him, but I hope they can understand him.
We’ll see more of Tegeus’s struggle between his old, bad habits and his attempt to be a better person in Twenty Questions.
Might: Yes, I’ll admit there’s a fair amount of Stormbringer’s influence here, although the semi-sentient-sword trope has become common enough in fantasy fiction and gaming that it should be accessible to most readers without knowing anything about those books. In this case, Might may not be sentient per se — whether it’s a conduit for Yzyrche’s will or a mere inhibitor of Tegeus’s, though, is still up for grabs. Also, yes, as was the case for Stormbringer, and maybe moreso, I had fun playing with the whole Freudian sword-as-phallus association in this series.
Captain Arcady Lorencz, Sentinel: F / mid-30s / Short hair, often self-cut and therefore ragged, usually dyed in garish red, orange, and yellow. Wears the uniform of the Cislunar Watch with a Dockside Division badge while on-duty. Wears utilitarian, well-worn, often second-hand trousers, shirts, and sweaters off-duty. Always wears a Vigilance silver sentinel’s pin.
In Red Rover, Lorencz shows that she’s been learning how far she can push her dangerous new partner, and she enjoys testing that limit. However, this is the first time she sees him under Might’s influence, and it deeply disturbs her on several levels — personal and religious. Because even though Lorencz has spent most of her life disrespecting The Reverence for its negative view of adjuration, her impoverished childhood exposed her to religious charity often enough to leave an impression, and childhood beliefs linger. Her worldview is being shaken by what she’s learning about the Line, and despite the scoffing of Tegeus and his cousin, she is starting to feel like maybe she needs to re-join the faithful, after all.
Lorencz’s potential for fiery destruction is highlighted here; the Line has a lesson to teach her about herself and her worst tendencies, just as it does everyone.
Axton: M / 36 / Very short, “prison-cut” dark hair and pale gray eyes. Short, slight of build, and thin to the point of malnourishment. A former prisoner of Hellsgate, Axton was recently released and hasn’t adapted well to his new freedom, as shown by his poverty, lack of social skills, and disregard for personal hygiene. Nevertheless, he’s bright, a competent medical examiner, and is also working as an unlicensed alienist.
Axton mostly lurks in the background of this novel, watching everyone else and carefully weighing his words, but his ability to connect with others is hinted at here — Cardinal Croix recognizes him and knows about his excommunication, he’s become Michael Aronson’s loyal “eyes,” he works in Blackstone Hospital, he treats Ban Jaspin, he negotiates with Far, and he treats Tegeus.
A little more about his past is revealed in what Tegeus sees in the locked rooms of the pseudo-asylum across the Line. Some of it is more metaphorical than factual, though. Did Axton lock those doors? Or maybe he unlocked them, and that’s how his scalpel got bloody as he got a few of his “more disturbing memories under control.” It’s enough to intrigue Tegeus; whereas at first he found the alienist off-putting, then annoying, now he’s beginning to suspect Axton might be a source of amusement. This novel reveals relatively little of what Axton experienced across the Line, compared to Tegeus, Lorencz, and Aronson, but we’ll get deeper into Axton’s psyche in Twenty Questions.
Michael Aronson, Nobilis, Sentinel: M / late 30s / Long black hair and brown eyes. Tegeus Droit’s cousin — his father was brother to Tegeus’ father. Michael has worked hard to restore his lost family fortune and respectability, especially given his cousin’s infamy. He dresses well, lives a comfortable upper-class life, and wants the best for everyone … well, mostly. He’s the third most powerful sentinel in the Cislunar Vigilance and serves on its board of directors. He raises iguanas and hopes to breed a pure blue someday.
In Red Rover we learn a little more about Michael and Tegeus’s families, shared traumas, and interpersonal conflicts. Tegeus clearly values his cousin, even as he constantly criticizes and belittles him, and deep inside, he knows what it would mean for him to lose his last strong emotional anchor to normality. But in turn, we see Michael taking a stronger stand against his cousin’s bullying. They’re both growing. We learn a little more of Michael’s concerns and motivations in Twenty Questions and Catch.
Cardinal Croix, The Reverence: Croix was introduced in passing in Hopscotch but gets more time here and in the subsequent novels. He’s basically a good, upright man who believes in a particular religious doctrine that, unfortunately, condemns a significant portion of the population for using their inborn abilities. He does his best to be rational about it, but he believes what he believes.
I think it would have been too easy to make Croix the bad guy, or the inflexible guy who condemns everything he doesn’t understand in a self-defensive, knee-jerk reaction. We see that kind of religious character all the time. Instead, I figured he got to his current position not out of blind adherence to doctrine but out of a willingness to listen to and work with even those he disagrees with, as long as it’s for the greater good. Croix values both logic and compassion, so when he’s exposed to an alternate perspective in this novel, he doesn’t reject it, but actively explores it.
A lot of my work explores religious belief. I’m not sure why, since I don’t practice religion, myself. But I do my best to be fair about it in my fiction; there are good and bad people in every faith, and frankly, I’m not sure any human could comprehend the motivations of gods or demons, should such beings really exist.
Elliot Chime, Librarian and Archivist, Cislunar Hall of Records: Captain Arcady Lorencz’s fiancé. He doesn’t really make an appearance in this novel except by reference. Poor guy.
Ban Jaspin, Chief of Investigations, Ministry of Security: M / 50s / Burn scars along one side, limp. Ban Jaspin’s confirmation that Tegeus works for him is important but underplayed here. I’d mentioned in Hopscotch that he and Tegeus had a pre-existing acquaintanceship based on Jaspin perfunctorily grilling Tegeus over every unsolved murder in Cislunar as a matter of course — after all, Tegeus is a known killer and a civic security risk. But in the short scene on the border of the Line, Jaspin clearly signals that he’s accepted Tegeus’s new status within the city; he’s willing to bring this potential security risk back to Cislunar because he’s seen that Tegeus is willing to enforce the law and serve his sovereign, and he’s accepting Tegeus as one of his own. Tegeus isn’t in much state to appreciate it at the moment, but ultimately that acceptance helps bolster his own sense of loyalty to and place within Cislunar.
The Line: I don’t really try to explain what “The Line” is in these novels; something like the veil between worlds, perhaps, or the border between dimensions, except of course it’ll be much more abstract than those metaphors suggest. What’s across the line is primarily bale, a sort of energy that can be shaped by one’s will. That poses a problem for humans who cross the Line, because their brains shape the bale with every thought; sentinels, who’ve learned more discipline when it comes to shaping the bale, might manage to focus long enough for a very brief crossing, but eventually even the strongest focus will falter and the bale will begin responding to one’s every thought, hope, fear, and concern … balemadness magnified tenfold.
In Red Rover, we see that Far’s will is sufficient to shape the bale into a semi-durable structure, although it remains responsive to the thoughts of the humans passing through it. But Far is still very weak compared to Yzyrchye and Kyrchye; the only difference is that Far seems much more aware of how humans think and negotiate through the world … possibly because Far has taken human shape and interacts with the human world and humans more regularly than either of the other two.
I’m not sure how an animal would experience the Line. Maybe I’ll investigate that in a story sometime. My immediate thought is, “well, of course cats will be able to cross the Line easily enough.” Blame the Dream Quest of Unknown Kadath for that one; the Mythos have left a lasting impression on me, as may be evidenced by my descriptions of Yzrychye….
Freedom Marks: I mention “freedom marks” here but don’t go into a lot of detail; they’re the brands Tegeus, as the “Red General,” put on the faces of select prisoners he allowed to go free. Sometimes he freed them as repayment for some service or information they provided, sometimes as a favor for his officers, and sometimes as a sort of game he played with himself in which freeing potentially dangerous opponents promised exciting re-matches in the future. Certainly nobody received a freedom mark without having betrayed others or been forced into some kind of servitude — it amused Tegeus to humiliate people and then try to make them feel grateful to him for his “mercy.” Tegeus was, and in many ways still is, a bully.