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Preview — Stillbright by Daniel M. Ford
Read between June 02, 2017 - August 31, 2018
You pick a direction, usually one bristling with people that want you dead, and you go straight at it, blind to everything beside you. It almost got you killed this time. What happens, then, when it does kill you? What happens to the Goddess, Her Temple, Mol?”
“You’ve been taught quite a lot of shit, I don’t doubt. Among it, I suppose, would be the notion that a big dumb man with a hammer poses no threat to a sorcerer. Well, he’s still here and your master’s dead. So it might be best to think on just how much of what your master taught you was wrong.”
you kill when you must and you save whom you can. This, My Arm, is precisely why I Called you. Most knights of this world do the opposite.”
The Goddess didn’t tell me to live like some kind of self-mortifying monk.” “No, She did not. It was my father who taught never to trust comfort too much. A man gets too used to soft beds and rich food, he starts imagining such is his due.” “Or,” Idgen Marte countered, “he takes what comfort and joy he can get while it’s there to be had.”
“The only man fit to wield power is the one who is frightened by its consequences.”
“It is a rule of leading people, Gideon. You may be confused, or afraid, or overwhelmed, or all three—those who depend on you must never see it. Or, as the Old Baron once put it to me, you absolutely cannot be pissing your pants when your men are expecting orders.”
“In short, and so you will let it alone—the only woman I would have married I was forbidden to. By the Old Baron, by my father and hers. I followed their commands. When they suggested other candidates, I ignored them.” “Aren’t your father and the Old Baron dead many years?” “So is she,” Allystaire replied,
“The first rule of keeping an animal, any animal, as a partner in your work, be it a horse to ride, or a dog or a pard or a falcon in hunting, is that you see to the beast’s needs before your own. It eats before you, sleeps before you, drinks before you. You never break that rule except at utmost need.”
Most weapons are just a stick with a blade at one end and an idiot at the other,
“And what if the Mother’s Gifts weaken in us on this Longest Night you prattle about? What then?” “Then I will fight our enemies with my own strength, and you will sew my wounds, and Torvul will poison everyone. It will be quite nostalgic.”
“You take strength from them, Lionel,” the paladin bellowed. “Mine is given for them.”