The Wound of the World (The Cycle of Galand, #3)

by Edward W. Robertson

The people were running through the streets waving burning bundles of wheat stalks which they appeared to be trying to flick against the buttocks of their friends. Dante frowned. "Are they trying to set each other on fire? This is a celebration, right?" "Looks more like a rebellion against the tyranny of pants."

"We just handed the Mallish their own asses. Along with a fork and a knife and a tin of pepper.

Then, in elegant script, written with the authority of one who ate kings and shat out priests, the book's title.

If a sorcerer broke his own toe with a hammer, only to heal it, break it again, and repeat, could he get time moving so slowly that it stopped altogether?

"You shot me." Dante brandished the telltale arrow. "Why?" The norren gave him a sullen look. "Because you were standing still enough to be shot." "Do you normally shoot everyone who stops to smell a flower or take a piss?" "That sounds needlessly hostile." "Then why," Dante said slowly, "did you shoot me?"

"I think you're telling the truth. But we can't go." "Wrong. You have legs. They will support you in any decision you make."

Dante wanted to kick and scream and hit things with other things, such as her head with a large club.

"Do you remember the last place you saw it?" "The only place such a sacred item could be: our shrine." "Interesting. Have you tried checking the shrine?" "Yes." Kadda gave a lingering look toward the peaks. "But that was lost, too." "Come now, everyone knows you have to tether your shrines. Otherwise they'll get up and wander away."

"The norren are as stubborn as a constipated mule,"

kicked King Charles' ass clean off his hips.

This world isn't as firm as you think. Sometimes, believing something is enough to make it true."

hates the idea so much that he'd rather eat his own children with applesauce than to strike a deal with us.

you're so cheap that when your old boots start to fall off your feet, you'd rather give up walking than by new ones.

"People do all sorts of unpleasant things that don't accomplish anything besides satisfying their spite." Cee stared him down. "Do you think I'm one of those people?" "Oh, we all are. But I'm glad you weren't in this case.

"You're getting more cynical as you get older." "Hardly. I'm just better at understanding what I'm seeing."

"Strange. You sound like you think you're saying the same thing I said, and yet every word is completely different."

"What could possibly be funny about using a mouse skeleton to build a mouse-sized snow fort?

The people here believe the truth is valuable because it's so hard to find. We can all see if it's raining, but if I claim that's a bad thing, there's no reason to take my word for it. Someone saying a thing certainly doesn't make it true. Could be they're lying. Or it could be they're a fucking idiot!"

"'Grateful' has rarely described my encounters with bureaucracy.

my friend Orson's sense of justice is so sensitive he's been known to pick fights with inanimate objects.

"A smart person once told me honor is just something that powerful people use to stop you from acting in your own interests."

He believed that dreams were missives from the soul.

When you approach a problem, certainty is the enemy of the solution."

But sometimes progress was just a matter of trying dumb things until you stumbled on a smart one.

"There's nothing I hate more than having a great idea refuted by stupid reality."

Frustration was the enemy of discovery.

"Always better to confirm a phenomenon's existence by using a second subject."

"There is also the matter that they were lurking beneath the water. Not breathing is not a very peoplish thing to do." "Either that, or you need to hire some of them as sailors."