I do have two more Hungarian name jokes before I go, in case anyone is interested. At least, they made *me* laugh. Neither is particularly flagged for our attention, so it could be I’m over-thinking again.

Baresh Orbahn. Orbán translates only as the Hungarianization (?) of a foreign name: Urban; the everyday-adjectival urban is a different word entirely. Béres commonly translates as something like hireling (bér is hire), but two of my favorite sources also give us farm hand. Heh. Dude may think he’s a savvy entrepreneur and general Man About Town, but our “Urban Farmhand” is still basically just shoveling manure for his masters in both Coven and Guild. Like any other peasant.

Old Baron Neeyali, overthrown by the first Count Saekeresh. Should have included this with the Burz joke, but the Baron’s name appears only once, and I didn’t make a note of it while I was reading; took me forever to track it down again later. Nyáj is Hungarian for herd or flock. Just as Count Saekeresh is a “prosperous” count, Baron Neeyali was a “herd” baron—like a cattle baron, except, he probably owned sheep instead. A form of wealth well befitting the land-based feudal economy of his day. The joke comes in when we realize that Neeyali is also a surname (family name, patronymic, whatever), thus lumping the baron right in with the rest of the brainless, bleating Flock(s), mired in the stagnating feudal system until Saekeresh kicked off the local industrial revolution and chopped him into dog meat.

James N @ 94 (along with similar posts by Jason s.b.f. @ 70 and big mike @ 50): building on the Burz joke, I hope you realize that your comment about there being no Jhegaala in *Jhegaala* is true only in the strictest literal sense of no currently-Orb-linked, House-Jhegaala-certified elfs running around town. Burz is, in fact, as teeming with Jhegaala as it is awash in the bourgeoisie. As we learned from Aliera in *Taltos*, “there’s no difference between the soul of an Easterner and the soul of a Dragaeran.” As we further learned from Vlad in *Dragon*, the Jhegaala have “titles of the nobility but lives of the bourgeois.” The “title” part may be a bit misleading in a Fenarian context, but we also learn from the same passage in *Dragon* and from other books in the series that the Jhegaala are…heh, merchants.

Best bet for Chayoor is Asshole. (Segglyuk. Seriously.) Excellent fit with Vlad’s reaction on learning the guild master’s name, as well as his attitude toward authority figures in general. If I were trying to fake an unfamiliar spelling, I’d have gone with “Shegyook,” but the “sh” and “g” are both sort of…phlegmy-sounding, and could easily pass for a slurred “ch” and a gagging “y.” The only thing not to like about Asshole for Chayoor is the fairly distinct “k” sound instead of an “r” at the end. And I haven’t found anything else I like better.

Inchay continues to thwart me at every turn. The sign above his door pretty much has to be showing us a continuity-busting traffic cone (AKA safety cone). What’s up with *that*? Vlad’s mistaking the image for a hat made me think of cone-head or dunce. Or Dumb-ass, to match Asshole above. Sadly, the online Hungarian-English dictionaries aren’t going for that line of investigation at all.

Then there’s Tahchay Loiosh, the Count’s scribe. Forgot all about him in my previous post. We already know Loiosh is Loyal (Lojális). Hung up on the “ass” theme, I was liking Wise-ass for Tahchay, because Vlad has been known to call Loiosh a wise-ass jhereg. Except, my online sources aren’t buying that one, either. Társ can be translated as Sidekick, but then I don’t know where we’re supposed to find the “ay” ending. Társ- is also a combining form of “joint” or “associate,” which might be aimed at Loiosh’s witchcraft role as Vlad’s familiar, and also plays into a pun on how he and the scribe are both career “spellers.” Again, no solid vocabulary hits along those lines, although csel translates as art or artifice or gimmick or fake. Still working on it. Occasionally.

Now on to my real agenda tonight. In the fine old tradition of Turnabout Is Fair Play, I feel duty-bound to snark: “For whatever reason, [miaveiledlady @ 128-130] failed to note that [three of her cited references] don’t relate only to” a single source apiece.

First, @128, her Zelazny reference pairing Loiosh and Frakir is also a *Taltos* reference. Temporary Loiosh impersonation aside, we all know Zelazny’s Frakir was based on Brust’s Spellbreaker. Which Vlad liberated from Loraan in *Taltos*.

Second and third, both of the references @130 are triple plays. They’re cited by miaveiledlady as links to *The Sun, the Moon, & the Stars*, but each can also be tied to a specific incident in—yep, *Taltos*. Where, in each case, we then find a built-in-bonus reference to Zelazny.

Heh.

The hardcover edition of *The Sun, the Moon, & the Stars* came out in 1987. Beginning with *Taltos* (1988), Brust also tucked a carefully crafted set of look-outside-the-book *SM&S* game references into several subsequent works. Now, in *Jhegaala* (2008), I’m pretty sure we’re seeing the start of a 2nd, 20-years-after reference set.

Best arguments are the 2 *Jhegaala*/*Taltos* links. I was almost scooped on reporting the first, when knob_e @ 127 said “eddieberry” and “koelsch” aren’t continuity errors in *Jhegaala*. For whatever reason, though, knob_e failed to note that the bogus spellings don’t relate only to decoding Fenarian names. Brust is equally bent on jogging our memories about where else we’ve seen those two words—“correctly” spelled—being tossed around together. Heh, in *Taltos*, among Vlad’s beyond-Deathsgate-Falls gear. Dahni-rulebook-worthy object lesson for readers who casually blow off Brust’s many minor lapses in continuity: sometimes they really are nothing more than simple screw-ups, but often they’re a sneaky signal to smart readers that the author is Up To Something—ignore those little red flags at your peril. Ditto heads-up for all readers: never expect Brust to limit himself to just one purpose for any given flag. In this case, he’s delivered the Fenarian hint and the *Taltos* link. With maybe a bonus nose-thumbing at humorless Continuity Police bitching.

The second *Taltos* link starts with those “odd white scars crisscrossing the backs of” Zollie’s hands on page 57 of *Jhegaala* (hardcover or mass market paperback). Switch to page 57 of *Taltos* (Ace paperback original edition only—doesn’t work for the trade twofer), and you find “tiny scars all over the backs of [Loraan’s] fingers.” A strange enough detail to call out in any one series character, but in two of them, com­pletely unrelated and very different in nature, appearing on the same page of separate books published almost exactly two decades apart? It’s the matching page number that really tubes the “coincidence” dodge. And Brust’s original set of look-outside-the-book *SM&S* references is built on similar numbers-gaming, some of it borderline evil, all lost to readers who are stuck with the twofer and threefer trade editions of the earlier series titles. Too bad Tor has now and forever tubed that Brustian hat trick along with any hope of a “someday” reprint in the author’s intended book format. Sorry, dudes.

*Damn*, he almost slipped “Rainy Season in the Tropics” right past me. I was only joking when I said the waterfall painting in Jhegaala didn’t provide a direct link to The Sun, the Moon, & the Stars. Truth is, I’d decided the idea was too farfetched to even bother pursuing. Mid-post, though, as I watched my thoughts take shape in black and white, my Brustian Game-On Alarm started to howl. I finally found time to confirm my belated suspicions tonight.

The Count’s painting is described in Chapter 12 of Jhegaala. One of the book’s two Zelazny riffs also appears in Chapter 12, but it isn’t the one from Nine Princes (which, I like to think, would have triggered my Alarm much sooner). Both riffs are–no, people will REALLY think I’m a wingnut if I get all bogged down in Brustian game logic here. Just trust me far enough to Google for images of “Rainy Season in the Tropics,” the painting title from Chapter 12, Section 6 of SM&S (Church’s original is at the de Young in SF), and decide for yourselves if it bears a reasonable resemblance to Vlad’s comments in Jhegaala.

(Sigh.) NO idea is too farfetched to pursue when the game is afoot. Which reminds me: did anyone else pick up on “Dahni’s” gaming approach in Chapter 8? My point, exactly.

First, we have Dahni, tapped by Vlad for an emergency rescue from the Guild’s clutches in the paper mill.
“Why should I trust you?”
And Vlad: “I trusted you to rescue me, didn’t I?”
Followed by: “Think it over….You were my best shot so I took it. Right now, doing what I want is your best shot.”

Playing on Bleys, tapped by Corwin for an emergency rescue from Eric’s clutches in Amber Castle.
“You needed someone…and I was the lesser evil.”
Then: “How far can I trust you?”
And Corwin: “As far as I can trust you.”
While thinking: “It sounded like the best deal I’d get anywhere.”
(Nine Princes in Amber. Which also gives us Zelazny’s five-act “Play on Shakespeare,” a source of inspiration for Brust’s art-history-Easter-egg-hunt-within-a-scavenger-hunt in SM&S, so I get my game plug, too.)

Second, we have a three-part chain of Brust riffing on Zelazny riffing on Brust, wrapped up in a wiseass-familiar zinger scored by Loiosh.
Vlad: “What do you think, Loiosh?”
Loiosh: “He might have bolted.”
Vlad: “Yeah, I know. But if he hasn’t?”
Loiosh: “I can’t think of anything better, Boss. But we’d best do it fast. It would be embarrassing if the Jhereg put a shine on you right before we were about to go into action.”
Vlad: “You’re sounding like me.”
Loiosh: “Easterners are short. Jhereg are reptiles. Water is wet. I sound like you.”
Vlad (to readers only): “I let him have that one.”

Playing on Frakir, temporarily granted full sentience and a witch’s-familiar-style psionic voice link with Merlin. Same basic score, slightly less zing.
Merlin: “Thought I saw something there.”
Frakir: “Maybe you did. Doesn’t mean it’s there.”
Merlin: “Talking for less than a day, and you’ve already learned sarcasm.”
Frakir: “I hate to say it, boss, but anything I learn I pick up from your vibes. Ain’t no one else around to teach me manners and like that.”
Merlin: “Touché.”
(Knight of Shadows. In which Frakir’s short-term upgrade is a play on the Loiosh readers have known and loved to laugh with since Jhereg.)

Two earlier commenters in this thread raised the subject of Verra’s involvement in Vlad’s trip East, and that reminds me of a third Brustian riff on Zelazny. Not specifically tied to Jhegaala but still on-topic. It’s also an indication of how both authors have regularly plucked their riffs from classic (and classical) storytelling themes.

Starting with Zelazny this time, in the original Chronicles of Amber:
We have Prince Corwin,
returning from centuries of hardship and exile,
much changed from his former self,
playing a pivotal role in repairing the Pattern and thus stabilizing all reality,
then refusing the throne and losing the girl, but ending up with a part-Courts-of-Chaos-monster son.

Shifting to Brust and Brokedown Palace:
We have Prince Miklós,
returning from 2 years of hardship and exile,
much changed from his former self,
playing a pivotal role in remaking the Palace and thus stabilizing all Fenario,
then refusing the throne and losing the girl, never getting to meet his part-demon daughter.

And now we have kindred spirit Vlad putting yet another face on the Reluctant Hero archetype.

Unquestionably, his coming to Fenario is part of Verra’s overall Plan, but it has nothing to do with demon-summoning or paper-making. The Demon Goddess cut him off and cast him adrift from his too-comfortable existence for the same reason she forced Miklós into exile. Like any good weapon/tool, Vlad needs some serious tempering. Which is exactly why Jhegaala is the book it is: Vlad’s beginning metamorphosis is what Verra’s Plan requires. She’ll engineer his return home when she decides he’s had enough, and not one Dragaeran minute before.

Provided she can keep him too off-balance to take matters into his own hands first. After all, she failed to see the added Kelly-and-Cawti complications brewing, back when she set Vlad up for an Imperial fall in Phoenix. We know her godlike abilities have their limits. And Reluctant Heroes can be tricky tools to master.

Vlad’s “Of course it is” reaction to the information that the local Guild Master’s name is Chayoor practically screams “yo, punch line here.” As does Meehayi’s total disconnect over Vlad’s “Pointy Hat” reference to Inchay’s place. But I haven’t been able to crack the hidden joke behind either one. I get the part where we’re all supposed to realize the “fool” (per *Athyra*) who’s recording these Vlad-ventures is doing his not-quite-phonetic best with the spelling of unfamiliar words. (Surprise, surprise, I even get that “eddieberry” and “koelsch” are NOT continuity errors.) And most of my Fenarian-to-Hungarian conversions went pretty smoothly, so I know I’m doing *something* right.

Vlad’s dad’s name is Steven (Pista, variant of István) — check. Zollie’s AKA is Coachman (kocsis) — check. Before Vlad’s Mersz kin became pulpers, it seems they were tailors (Szabó, although I get a bigger chuckle out of Szóbó, or “wordy”; I also thought it was hilarious that “pulper” could alternately be spun as “writer of pulp fiction,” but I’ve been reliably informed that I was over-thinking). The toe-tapping Sheep Disease is nemi betegség.

And Burz has been the funniest of the lot. There again, Brust does us the favor of flagging it as a joke: Vlad cracks up at the thought that “They named their town Burz,” and Noish-pa promptly chimes in with “perhaps making paper makes not such a pretty smell.” As an added nudge in later chapters, we’re twice reminded that the town got its name after the mill was built. See, a burzs is by definition awash in the burzsoázia. Bourgeoisie. Forerunners of the modern middle class, they rose to prominence on the textile-milled coattails of the Industrial Revolution. Marx hailed them on one hand as instrumental in overthrowing feudalism, then trashed them on the other as reactionary capitalists who held down the proletariat. Today, we generally find “bourgeois” used in the sense of selfish, materialistic, mediocre, and/or unimaginative. Hence Noish-pa’s immediate bad-smell connection. Oh, and clan Saekeresh embodies the same ideal as the town they named: “sikeres” is Hungarian for “prosperous.” It’s also significant that the first Count overthrew a Baron; baronial land grants were heavily rooted in the moribund feudal system.

All those points and more, I get. (Heh, my favorite Hungarian language joke anywhere in the series to date is Állam, *Brokedown Palace*.)

But I’ve got mostly jack on flippen Chayoor and Inchay. If anybody else out there can set me straight, I’d much appreciate it.

Too bad, a multinational cow sounded good, too…