Throwback Thursday: Irresistible Theives and Refreshing Sexuality in the Nightrunner Series

Case in point: Lynn Flewelling’s Nightrunner series. When I had the good fortune to discover Luck in the Shadows in 1999, the third installment of the series (and for many years, the last) had just been published, which meant that I could (and certainly did) tear through them one after the other, ignoring bookstore social hour for bookstore reading-obsessive hour. What was it that had me so addicted?
The Nightrunner series is an early entry in the fantasy subgenre of “thieves’ literature”—Scott Lynch fans, take note. It is the story of the dynamic duo of Alec and Seregil. Alec is a straight-arrow farmboy from the provinces wrong accused as a spy. His mistaken brush with the law lands him in the company of the real thing: Seregil, a bonafide thief, spy, and all around trickster. The experienced con man takes wide-eyed Alec under his wing, and we find ourselves in the middle of a mismatched buddy comedy. But there’s more to it than just Oscar/Felix hijinx: Seregil and Alec run soon afoul of dark magic and become mixed up in a game of deadly intrigue including kings and queens, magical races, and vengeful gods poised to strike. It quickly becomes apparent there’s more to Seregil than he’s willing to say.

The first three books are packed with compelling characters and ever-deepening intrigue, and, up to their necks in it, Seregil and Alec must use their…unique skill sets to avert disasters that white knights on horses aren’t going to be able to stop. It’s exciting, and breath-catching, and it never seems less than entirely possible a favorite character will be taken from us (and sometimes, they are). It’s got a lot of the best ingredients of fantasy, mixed up into one delicious cocktail.
The plot has more than enough threads to spend hours untangling, but even more compelling are the incredibly endearing characters. They run the gamut from bumbling, blushing Alec (who will remind you of every innocent friend you helped corrupt a little in high school); to smooth, mysterious Seregil; to the imposing Nysander, ward of a dangerous dark magic object; to brave soldier Beka. One aspect truly stood out to me as a young reader of adult fantasy: sad to say, at the time, there was not a wide range of fantasy novels in which LGBT characters played a common role (or at least, I wasn’t reading them). These were among the first books I found that featured not only a main character with a fluid sexual identity, but a gay character who goes through the entire process of discovering his sexuality and coming out, all while kicking ass and taking names and generally being a fantasy badass. His journey toward an acceptance of his sexuality (in the face an ingrained, all-too-familiar repressive attitude) is a major emotional arc that spans the series and lends sweetness to a sometimes very serious plot. It was nothing I’d encountered before, and I spent three books passionately ‘shipping these characters like nobody’s business.

It was a great thing to experience, especially as a young adult, especially in genre I loved. Fwelling proves adept at careful, gradual character development, and it’s truly a joy to see someone tackle the subject in the midst of the usual fantasy tomfoolery. She makes the main characters’ growth an important element of the story, which I loved, especially since it centers around the kind of sexual awakening, family drama, and misunderstandings often reserved for female storylines.  And hey, speaking of women, despite the fact that the series focuses on two dudes, never fear: there are strong women in positions of power throughout, and the aforementioned Beka,  is a key protagonist, an awesome female soldier whose strength and vulnerabilities make her easy to root for.
An additional bit of real-world relevance made the series resonate with me—it deals with another sort of discrimination: xenophobia, and concepts of identity based on “blood.” It’s a key part of the story’s politics, as deeply ingrained in the characters, illustrating the damage the concept of “them” and “us” can do to us at the deepest level. Some of Flewelling’s strongest world-building focuses on politics, whether negotiated between characters, or of the wider state. I’ve always enjoyed worlds in which characters must negotiate the balance between family and politics—it raises the stakes , and done well, can complicate the plot in intriguing ways. And it is absolutely done well. (Just wait until you meet Seregil’s family!)

Speaking of world-building, this series does it in the best way—without drawing your attention. The setting is easy to fall into from page one—it’s the sort of city with shadowy back alleys contrasted with glittering jewels, and shining courts to lose yourself in for hours. Her detailing is rich without becoming purple, and it supports the characters rather than overwhelming them, which is sometimes a danger high fantasy authors succumb to, and a dark magic system that adds a few ominous clouds into the atmosphere.
In a forward to book three, Traitor’s Moon, Flewelling promised readers, “this is not a trilogy this is not a trilogy this is not a trilogy” [sic], ensuring we knew we’d be seeing more of Alec and Seregil! It took a while, but in 2008, she finally returned to the world, and has since written several more books focusing on her Nightrunner heroes. It’s a perfect time to start: tons of books to indulge in, no anxious waiting. Go ahead. Indulge in the adventure. I apologize in advance for your canceled weekend plans, but it will be worth it.