The Blood Mirror (Lightbringer, #4)

by Brent Weeks

“Look at your mistakes long enough to learn from them, then put them behind you.”

“Why is this my problem?” Teia asked. “I didn’t do anything.” She just wanted to be invisible when this sort of thing came up. “What do you want me to say, Teia? ‘You’re the woman. Can you imagine what kind of world it would be if we let men take the lead’?”

“We’re social animals, Teia. All of us. Without a community, we can’t reach our proper end, our telos. We can’t become who we’re supposed to be when we’re alone. Those without a community become monsters. We can get stuck looking for a freedom that doesn’t exist, because when you’re part of something, the weakness of others puts a burden on you. Maybe even an unfair burden. But you’ll put unfair burdens on your community, too. And let me be blunt. You do. You’re inexperienced, you’re uneducated, you’re color-blind, you’re short, and you’re weak. So in this thing, you’re going to help Gav Greyling. Not because you’re the woman, but because you’re human. You’re a Blackguard. And our community, this precious little thing we have, helps each other grow and become the best us we can be. And maybe he’ll never help you back, but one of the rest of us will. Or maybe we won’t, and you’ll go through life with your ledger slightly unbalanced. If you’ve got complaints about things being unfair, take them to my friends who died at Garriston in one fucking unlucky cannon shot.

“These names tell me that you are a great man. I have seen great men. The chains you lifted from my wrists tell me that you are a strong man. I have known strong men. But you didn’t dive into that water to save us so that we might be your weapons. You knew we’d sought a coward’s peace. Most men would leave us to the hell we deserve for our faithlessness. The lives you have saved this day will testify unto eternity that you are a good man. A man who risks his life to save strangers testifies not to their worth but to his own. I have never seen or known a man to be great and strong and good as well. I will see you in three days with any who will join me. I care not what others call you; if you will have me, I will call you lord.”

And Kip’s fool dream that he might destroy the White King was like a babe stillborn, lying pallid and cold in his hands—taking sudden breath, stirring, squalling; thus was born his army.

And old, and male. Because an old worker slave was cheap. An older woman could be put to work inside, watching children or knitting or doing simple tasks. Not all were, of course, but enough that they generally cost more than old men broken by long physical labor.