Throne of the Crescent Moon (The Crescent Moon Kingdoms, #1)

by Saladin Ahmed

Doullie You know how things stand between us. I wouldn’t have bothered you if the need weren’t great. But my niece is dead, Doullie! Murdered! Her and her fool marshman husband. To hear Faisal speak, it was neither a man nor an animal that killed them. That means you will know more than anyone in this city about what to do. I need your help. Faisal here will tell you all that happened. Send him back to my house when you have learned what you must from him. God’s peace be with you, Miri

Bone ghuls, unless Adoulla missed his guess—strong as half a dozen men and as hard to kill, with gruesome claws besides.

Adoulla had seen grisly things in his work, but sometimes it was worse seeing the effect such things had on others.

Frightened people often remembered things falsely, even when they meant to be honest. He listened for new details and inconsistencies, not because he distrusted the boy, but because people never remembered things exactly the same way twice.

If there weren’t such grim work before him, Adoulla thought he might have felt some of the old peace. Instead, his thoughts were on tracking spells and a child’s bloodied clothing.

Interesting that he notes this even while preoccupied with other more important thoughts

Adoulla wished he were young enough to believe that zeal and an urge to combat monsters were enough to fill one’s stomach. But the years had taught him otherwise, and he had a long day ahead of him.

What he had seen people do with such powers varied as much, or as little, as people themselves. Their motivations covered the same range of reasons all men and women did things. Occasionally they helped other people and made sacrifices. More often, they acted selfishly and did wrong to their fellow children of God.

a golden snake forty feet long, with huge rubies for eyes—an ancient monster created in the days of the Faroes of Kem and awakened by a greedy man’s digging.

Adoulla had watched him clean the blade just yesterday, and he doubted that the boy’s sword had grown dirty since then. But he had come to understand that this ritual of Raseed’s was about more than maintaining a cherished weapon. It was about focus. About reminding himself, each and every day, what truly mattered to him. Taking a last long look around the bookshelves and bureaus of his townhouse, Adoulla himself felt something similar.

I wonder if A is seeing his home for the last time.

Instead of a blissful marriage, he had monstrosities on his mind and a pile of “should haves” pressing down upon his soul.

God did not answer.

:P

Due to the address-spell everyone in the crowd saw the infectious gleam in the Falcon Prince’s eye.

Had we time, I would repeat all of the praises that I have heard sung of you among the poor of the Scholars’ Quarter.

There is no such thing as being wise beyond your years. One can only know as much as one has lived to know, though it is certainly possible to learn a great deal less than this.

There was a sound like wind whipping, and suddenly two man-sized sandstorms were boiling in the middle of the room. Then the small storms took shape—arms, legs, fangs. Merciful God! If the desert dunes were made monsters, they would look like this! The man-shaped things snapped their jaws, showing teeth like jagged rocks. One darted out a forked tongue. No, not a tongue. A pink rock viper. The desert’s deadliest snake.

The ghul collapsed into a pile of loose sand and dead beetles.

But Litaz knew that everything in this world could be analyzed. The ghuls, the djenn, balls of fire, and bridges made from moonrays. All of it made sense, if one understood the formulae.

“God gave me my gifts. I draw my power, girl, from my own lifeblood. From the days that I have left in this world.

“Of course, Auntie. Where can crimson quicksilver be had?” Litaz set down the vial, and her dark, heart-shaped face grew grim. “The jungles of Rughal-ba. There is a powerful monster there called the Red Khimera whose horn must be cut from its—” Raseed’s blood began to race, but he quickly felt the fool as Litaz’s sober instructions slid into a snicker. “Hee! Oh, forgive me, Raseed! I am only teasing you. No, no, do not be angry with me. It is just that there are so few occasions for jest in my life these days. But God’s truth be told, the determination I saw in the set of your jaw is a tribute to your valor.”

there should be a balance, between allies, in what we know of each other’s pain.”

is a waste of time trying to convince a selfish man to care about what lies beyond his nose.