An Echo of Things to Come (The Licanius Trilogy, #2)

by James Islington

“In some ways we are slaves to our memories.

He tried to focus but there was no clarity here, just a constantly rupturing schism of consciousness.

“I know that you are afraid of your memories, but do not let that fear dictate your actions,”

Caeden looked at him curiously. “You eat with your servants?” “Am I any more a man than they?” Gassandrid frowned at him. “Are they not my people, my friends? Why should I not dine with them?”

“We are all servants, Tal’kamar—just with different roles. They serve me so that I may serve the people. We have different jobs, but we are equals nonetheless.”

Sometimes those who believed in something strongly enough were the most dangerous, too.

Caeden blinked, not expecting the response. “I do not believe in gods,” he said slowly. “But you do not believe this with passion,” observed Gassandrid.

“There is only one reason to be passionate about a lack of faith—and that is fear,” said Caeden quietly. “Fear that you are wrong. An innate need for others to share your opinion, so that you can be less afraid.” He shook his head. “I do not feel the need to argue, to cajole, to threaten or accuse. If others wish to believe differently, that is no business of mine. I simply do not think that there are gods.”

Religion is the following of rules and rituals in the hope that they will somehow garner the favor of a higher power.

“At least I am imperfect by design. You are imperfect by nature.”

A man who believes is the worst of enemies. A man who believes is more dangerous than anything.

And part of being a leader—the most important part, as far as he was concerned—was doing what was right, not just what was best.

The day on which you decide not to question what you believe, is the day that you start making excuses for why you believe it.”

“You have changed, you know,” she said suddenly. Caeden’s heart sank, but she waved away his concerned expression. “You’re more … confident, now, I think. You know your purpose.” She smiled. “My feelings for you are the same, though.”

“Even after whatever you haven’t,” said Karaliene quietly.

“We can’t start mistaking what we can do for what we have the right to do.”

“Perhaps this is what he has made me. A monster just like him.” “You are gentle, and kind,” said Alaris, so softly that Wirr could barely hear him. “You are just and strong. Perhaps he has made you forget that, Is. But he has not remade you.”

He was losing again, and nothing that he did mattered. He wasn’t good enough, wasn’t strong enough.

Asha slipped off her horse, making sure to keep her head high and her gaze straight as she approached the two. As often as not, appearance mattered in these situations as much as legality. The more it looked as if she didn’t believe that she would be arrested, the more likely it was that she wouldn’t be.

“May I offer you some unsolicited advice?” “There’s no way I can answer that question without getting the advice, so go ahead.”

“You want to do the right thing, but you don’t want to do the necessary thing. And all it does is put others in danger.” He leaned forward. “I say this not to embarrass, but to explain, Sire. It is a sign of a weak leader.”

because of panic and fear and ignorance, they were destroying themselves.

I could not in all conscience condemn other innocents to a fate that I was not myself willing to face.

though her primary emotion was still confusion.

I mean same

“Because that is not who you are—and it never was. It is the name you chose in order to instill fear in us, the name you chose because you wanted to pretend that your sins were not yours to own. But when we speak of you, Tal’kamar, we speak of you—for better or worse. Whether destroyer or savior, we will never let you hide behind another name.”

She was just like the rest of them—willfully ignorant, passionately believing in something because she surrounded herself with people who also passionately believed in the same thing. He knew the type, now—those who found it easier to listen to people who reinforced what they already thought, rather than actually considering the opinions of those who didn’t.

Their opinions were born of ignorance. A willful ignorance, perhaps—one born of fear and anger ingrained over many years—but ignorance nonetheless.

“You know this. The true evil is always in the reason and the excuse, not the act.

The danger of evil, the purpose of evil, is that it causes those who would oppose it to become evil also.”

“Certainty is hubris, Tal. It is arrogance and bluster and those who claim it deserve nothing but to be mocked.”

He’d just needed to hear it again. To be reassured that he was not alone in the pain of his doubt.