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“Dammit, Jean, save the money!” Locke coughed again, and nearly dropped his wine. “It’s only common sense, you brick-skulled tub! You obstinate—” “I’ll be back soon.” “… obstinate, uh, something … something … biting and witty and thoroughly convincing! Hey, if you leave now, you’ll miss me being thoroughly convincing! Damn it.”
“Bless us all,” said Chains one night, patting Locke on the belly. “You’re not the ragged little corpse that came to us all those weeks ago. Food and sunlight have worked an act of necromancy. You’re still small, but now you look like you could stand up to a moderate breeze.” “Excellent,” said one of the Sanzas. “Soon he’ll be fat, and we can butcher him like all the others for a Penance Day roast.” “What my brother means to say,” said the other twin, “is that all the others died of purely natural causes, and you have nothing to fear from us. Now have some more bread.”
“So, uh, just to be clear,” said Calo, “none of us are going to be fighting Jean?” “Not unless you’re inconceivably stupid.”
Tea’s no good for waking up civilized.”
“Nobody admires anyone else without qualification. If they do they’re after an image, not a person.”
ESPARA, FORMERLY a seat of prestige only one step below Therim Pel itself, had descended from its imperial years the way some men and women descend into middle-aged lethargy, discarding the vigor and ambition of youth like a suit of clothes that can no longer be wriggled into.
“What do you mean by spying on my company’s meeting like this?” “I just want to get killed onstage, sir.” “Fuck the stage. Come here and I’ll grant your wish right now.” “He means,” said Jean, “that we promised him a bit part in exchange for helping us sell off some surplus horseflesh.” “Oh,” said Moncraine. “An enthusiast. I’d be very pleased to help you die onstage. Stay on my good side and it can even be pretend.” “Uh, thank you, sir.”
“He acts for a living. Why would he give up the plum role?” “I don’t know, because you tricked him? Because you convinced him? Rumor has it you took some lessons in being tricky and convincing.”
“My disinterest in your bullshit is so tangible you could make bricks out of it.
“How hard is it to fling yourselves at one another and let all the really excited bits just sort themselves out?”
“I DON’T believe you Camorri,” muttered Mistress Gloriano as she helped carry the shrouded corpse of Gennaro Boulidazi from the wagon to her stables just after dark. “Assuming this would be the first time I’d ever helped make a body disappear!”
“Well, how now?” said Sabetha, pouring a fresh round of drinks. “Nothing pithy to say?” “I would never dream of pithing in front of you,” said Locke.
