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This time the crowded folk on the deck disappeared like water swirling down a drain.
It is my way, to speak directly. I do not mean to give offence by it. It has always seemed to me that honest words leave the least room for misunderstanding.’
It was right, what they said: Enlightenment was merely the truth at the correct time.
‘To judge from the number of men who grunt out her name as they finish, I would say Sa is definitely there.’
I never realised Sa was depicted as a woman.
‘Simple questions usually get simple answers. A man likes to know where he stands.’
Reller’s claim was that the thing had been sprawled there for ages and ages. But the arrow shaft didn’t look weathered or splintered. It was as nice a piece of wizardwood as I’ve ever seen.
I wonder if this was similar to the dragons from the Assassin books?
After all, Sa had a purpose for all things. It was the limit of humanity that those reasons could not always be perceived.
‘One can love that way,’ she conceded regretfully. ‘But the price on that kind of love may be the highest of all.’ She strung her words together as carefully as she strung her beads. ‘To love another person like that, you have to admit that his life is as important as yours. Harder still, you have to admit to yourself that perhaps he has needs you cannot fill, and that you have tasks that will take you far away from him. It costs loneliness and longing and doubt and –’
‘Half the evil in this world occurs while decent people stand by and do nothing wrong. It’s not enough to refrain from evil, Trell. People have to attempt to do right, even if they believe they cannot succeed.’
‘Everyone thinks that courage is about facing death without flinching. But almost anyone can do that. Almost anyone can hold their breath and not scream for as long as it takes to die. True courage is facing life without flinching. I don’t mean the times when the right path is hard, but glorious at the end. I’m talking about enduring the boredom, and the messiness, and the inconvenience of doing what is right.’
Yes, there is pain and violence. They are a part of all creatures, and of themselves are not evil. The violence of a flood tears a tree from the riverbank, but the nurturing soil and water the flood brings more than compensate.
‘One of the differences between good and evil is that good can endure the existence of evil and still prevail. Evil, however, is always ultimately vanquished by good.’
Good that fears for its own comfort and safety does that, and transforms itself from true good to blinkered complacency.
To set sail on a mad ship, in the dim hope of seeking out and recovering her family’s liveship was an errand for a fool.
:)
Amber had taken to binding her honey-coloured hair back in a tail. It was not a flattering change; the bones of her cheeks and the line of her nose were too sharp to be feminine.
2 things I get from this
1. Hair in a tail is what warriors do in the six duchies
2. The topic of the Fool's gender has found its way into these books too
Instead, he had turned the sun of his face onto Etta, and in his light, the woman bloomed extravagantly.
‘Rape is nothing but an idea women created, to pretend that a man can steal what you have an infinite supply of.
This attitude sums up Satrap Cosgo completely!
He should never have been built from mixed plank, but even so, the Ludlucks have a heavier share of the blame. They loaded him too heavy with cargo on deck and then piled on the sail to make up for it. He was top heavy when he went over. Our greed built that ship too swiftly, and their greed drove him mad. We were both to blame for what he became. Beaching him was the wisest thing that was ever done with him; refitting him has to be the most foolish.’
‘It’s a herbal…a book about herbs, with drawings and descriptions and explanations of how they are to be used. I’ve never seen one so elaborate.’
Is this the book Fitz wrote???
‘Our souls have loved a thousand times. Down pathways we no longer recall, we have ventured in other lives. I know you too well, love you too deeply, for this to be the growth of mere years. As a river carves a course within a valley, so has your soul marked mine with its passage.
The garb was not flattering to her; it showed that she had a very spare figure, flat chested and narrow hipped. She wore a snugly laced vest with fanciful butterflies embroidered on it. The only part of her that seemed at all attractive to Malta was her colouring. Like some pale honey-wood was her skin and hair, and her eyes almost the same shade. She had pulled her long hair back, braided it, and then pinned it to her head. Foreign was the only word that fit her. Even her earrings did not match.
Again about the Fool. With extra emphasis on the earring.
‘There is always a chance of anything happening,’ Amber replied. Her voice was suddenly serious. She turned back to face her. The intensity of her sympathy burned Malta. ‘And when anyone takes action to attempt to make something happen, that something becomes more likely.
‘You earn your future, Malta Vestrit.’ The bead-maker cocked her head at her. ‘What does tomorrow owe you?’ ‘Tomorrow owes me?’ Malta repeated in confusion. ‘Tomorrow owes you the sum of your yesterdays. No more than that.’ Amber looked out to sea again. ‘And no less. Sometimes folk wish tomorrow did not pay them off so completely.’
‘Too late for her,’ he whispered. Malta did not know if he spoke to her or about her. ‘Too late for her. Wide wings hang above her. She crouches like a mouse in the owl’s falling shadow. Her little heart beats to bursting. See how she trembles. But it is too late. Too late. She sees her. Know me as well!’ He threw back his head. The laughter roared from him. ‘I was a king!’ He was incredulous in his triumph. ‘I was lord of the three dominions. But you have made me this. A shell, a toy, a slave!’
‘I will,’ Malta had promised her. They spoke almost as if Malta were the one sailing off into the unknown.
When I heard about that, I halfway expected him to the from it. But he didn’t.
What?
He stuffed his hands in his pockets. Even with gloves on, he would not take a chance on leaning on the railing. The whole ship shouted to him as it was, and it was not ‘Kendry’ that spoke to him.
That most ancient of magics, the binding of a man by the use of his name, gripped him.
The Elderlings created art here, in this chamber. They made living sculptures of my kind, from the memory stone. Old men would carve them in this chamber, safe from wind and weather. Then they would die into them and the sculpture would briefly take on their lives. The door would open, the simulacra would emerge into sunlight and fly over the city. They would live a brief time, and then their memories and false life would fade. There was a graveyard of them, back in the mountains. The Elderlings thought of it as art. We found it amusing to see ourselves copied in stone. So we tolerated it.’
This helps explain the end of the Assassin trilogy a bit :)
He cocked his head and challenged her. ‘Only a fool would think differently.’ Amber was unruffled. ‘I think differently.’ She gave Lavoy a cool and mirthless smile. ‘It’s not the first time I’ve been called a fool, and likely not the last.
‘Oh. Well. A friend I had. We used to talk a lot. Sometimes I hear myself still talking to him, and I know how he would answer.’
