More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
It taunted the flames in the firepit and they spat and crackled in their anger, casting clawing shadows from the dried herbs hanging, throwing flickering light upon the root that Mother Gundring held up in her knobbled fingers.
Finally, so high above Yarvi that the man stood a giant, a craggy face, lopsided as a wind-blown tree, long hair and beard hanging wild and streaked with silver-gray, but about the twisted mouth and eyes a smile. The smile of a man who studies beetles, wondering which to squash.
“The day is here! The time is now! The reckoning comes!” “Could it come after I’m safely back in Thorlby?” asked Yarvi.
“When you’re in hell,” murmured Yarvi, “only a devil can point the way out.”
“Pick your enemies more carefully than your friends,” Nothing was muttering at the flames. “They will be with you longer.”
Let Father Peace spill tears over the methods. Mother War smiles upon results.”
“What is the world coming to when an honest man cannot burn corpses without suspicion?” asked Nothing.
“They were burning corpses.” “A noble enterprise if they are the right ones,” said Gorm.
“The Screaming Gate,” he whispered. “Why that name?” asked Rulf. “Because of the screams we’ll make when this goes wrong?” “Never mind the name.
“If life has taught me one thing, it’s that there are no villains. Only people, doing their best.”
