Foundryside (The Founders Trilogy, #1)

by Robert Jackson Bennett

All things have a value. Sometimes the value is paid in coin. Other times, it is paid in time and sweat. And finally, sometimes it is paid in blood. Humanity seems most eager to use this latter currency. And we never note how much of it we’re spending, unless it happens to be our own.

When Gregor Dandolo awoke, he was no longer convinced that consciousness was the best choice for him.

you could follow it with the sigil for “meaning,” and next write a completely new sigil, one you yourself just made up. Then that new sigil would essentially mean “You are very durable, very sharp, very light, and you part the wood of the cedar tree as if it were water”—and then you’d just have to write that one sigil on your ax blade.

Its a function!

“Justice is a luxury.” “No,” said Gregor. “It is not. It is a right. And it is a right that has long been denied.”

There are many dangers here, child, she’d said once. Many. Many ugly things you’re going to have to do. It will be a great contest for you. And you’re going to think: How do I win? And the answer is—so long as you are alive, you are winning.

“Traditional,” she echoed. “What a curious word that is. So bland, and yet often so poisonous.”