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his darling girl, who was his most precious legacy, the speck of gold siphoned from the clouded river of his soul.
“Ginny seems well,” said Gabriel, shattering the long silence between them. “Mmm,” said Clay, doing his best to repair it.
“Judge them for what they wished to be,” he begged the Father of Gods, “not what the world made of them.”
You’re still a big fish, he told himself. But Fivecourt’s an ocean.
“They hoard any- and everything that glitters, and they never spend it.” True enough, Clay had to admit. Kobolds might be filthy, but most were filthy rich. The concept of coins as currency was utterly lost on them. If something didn’t shine, gleam, or sparkle, then it held little value outside of bartering for something that did. You could trade a brass ring to a kobold in exchange for a healthy horse and the kobold would think it came out on top.
Among them is a renegade king, he who sired five royal heirs without ever unzipping his pants.
What was it about fathers, Clay wondered, that compelled so many of them to test their children? To insist that a daughter, or a son, prove themselves worthy of a love their mother offered without condition?
“Lunch with cannibals?” scoffed Matrick. “Over my dead body.” Clay clapped him on the shoulder as they headed out. “I think that’s the general idea,” he said.
a wound the wizard had cauterized but never, ever allowed to heal.
“You’d be surprised how many choices one makes due to the intrinsic nature of self-preservation,”
Saying glory to a warrior was like saying walk to a dog – you got its tail wagging, sure as shit.
“This is not a choice between life and death, but life and immortality! Remain here and die in obscurity, or follow me now and live forever!”
The mind, Clay had learned long ago, could witness only so much carnage before it ceased to comprehend. You saw it, still. You heard it raging like a rainstorm against a closed window, but it simply did not register.
