Libertarian themes are comparatively common in science fiction, much less so in fantasy. Melanie Rawn's new series is a pleasing exception. Its setting is typical of heroic fantasy—an aristocratic society with a preindustrial technology augmented by magic—but Rawn's view of aristocratic institutions is much more critical than is typical in the genre, and from an ultimately individualist slant.

The action of The Ruins of Ambrai takes place on two levels: political/institutional, and magical. The two are linked through the device of focusing the narrative on three sisters, of whom the eldest and youngest become leaders of opposing magical factions, while the middle sister becomes a leader of an underground political movement seeking to overthrow the authoritarian ruler of Rawn's imaginary world—though her own goals turn out to be considerably more radical.

At the magical level, the opposing forces, the MageGuardians and the Lords of Malerris, stand for two different perspectives on human life.

The Malerrisi see human beings as threads in a vast fabric, of no value in themselves but only as elements in a pattern to be determined by wiser rulers, meaning themselves. The Mage Guardians have no such ambitions, and in fact their customs forbid them to hold any governmental office; they act as a restraint on government, while themselves being restrained by it. Rawn has restated in fantasy terms the opposition between central planning and reliance on the self-regulating market, in an almost Hayekian vision of the arrogance of self-appointed planners.

The political action complements this theme well. Events are shown from a variety of points of view, from that of members of the ruling council down to that of a runaway slave. Rawn shows the effects of statism, from simple economic exploitation and malinvestment to mass murder. And on the other side, she shows a movement of opposition to statism—one that will recall Heinlein's The Moon is a Harsh Mistress to many readers, notably in the sequence where Sarra Ambrai, during her training for leadership, devises an interlocking message passing scheme singularly like the one created by Manuel O'Kelly-Davis.

Equally reminiscent of Heinlein is Sarra's bitter opposition to slavery, only one of several institutions of her society which she seeks to abolish—others are personal identity registration disks and economic discrimination against men. On all of these, Rawn shows her taking positions that libertarians will applaud.

All of this material is woven into a good story, with plot twists that aptly illustrate its themes and with strongly drawn characters. Rawn's principal characters have more passions than the passion for freedom. Despite a huge cast, I seldom had any trouble keeping track of who was who.

I've grown reluctant to read fantasy in the past few years, especially huge fantasy novels that are presented as the first books of trilogies. I'm glad The Ruins of Ambrai got past that reluctance. Rawn has told a good story with significant ideas behind it, without falling into lecturing. I can't quite imagine how she plans to come up with two more equally dramatic books of this length, but on the strength of this volume I'm looking forward to the attempt hopefully.

Editor's Note: The Ruins of Ambrai was nominated for the 1996 Prometheus Award, but since it was published in 1994, not 1995, The Ruins of Ambrai unfortunately did not make this year's ballot.

The sequel to this novel, Exiles 2: The Mageborn Traitor, is due in March, 1997.