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“The age is running mad after innovation; and all the business of the world is to be done in a new way.” Dr. Johnson
“I saw a wolf eat the sun. Then a lion ate the wolf. Then a lamb ate the lion. Then an owl ate the lamb.”
“Life is small discomforts, girl! They’re how you know you are alive.”
Battles may sometimes be won by the brave, but wars are always won by the clever.
“If killing folk ever starts to feel right, you’ve a worse kind of problem. Guilt can sting, but you should be thankful for it.”
“Guilt is a luxury reserved for those still breathing and with no unbearable pain, cold or hunger demanding all their fickle attention. Long as guilt’s your big problem, girl…” Rikke saw the faint gleam of Isern’s teeth in the gathering darkness. “Things can’t be that bad.”
She had long ago learned that at least half of everything is presentation. Seem a victim, soon become one. Seem in charge, people fall over themselves to obey.
“They warned me,” Kort grunted as he slid Valint and Balk’s note from the pouch. “That you care about nothing but money.” “Why, what a pompous crowd they are. Beyond a point I passed long ago, I don’t even care about money.” Savine flicked the brim of her hat in farewell. “But how else is one to keep score?”
“Gorst, you tiresome bastard.” The insult caused not the slightest reaction. Nothing ever did. “How did you track me down?” “Just followed the stench of disgrace,” said Tunny.
pride. “I make no grand claims for myself, but I’ve chosen a few wrong paths down the years. Could be I can spare you from stepping in some of the turds that’ve made my boots so fragrant.” “I thought I could smell dung.” And Stour sniffed, and licked his teeth, and wiped at his nose with a thumbtip. “So what’d be your first advice?” “Never scratch your eyebrows with a sword.”
“Care to point out the path?” “Wouldn’t presume. I know what I am, and I’m one of life’s followers.”
Winning made people friendly. Winning too much made them nervous.
“All it shows is that great powers can fall as well as rise. Murcatto has almost all of Styria under her heel and the Old Empire grows in strength, challenging our hold on the Far Country and inciting yet more rebellion in Starikland. Now the bloody Northmen break our hard-won treaties and come to war again. There’s no end to their appetite for blood up there.”
“One day, my son, you’ll understand. The more powerful you are, the less you can really do about anything.”
Valint and Balk are vermin. Parasites. Leeches. Once they get stuck to you, there’s no getting free of them. They won’t be satisfied until they own the sun and can charge the world interest for letting it rise every morning. Promise me you’ll never take a bit from the bastards!”
It is easy to smile at the bull you know is chained. When you realise of a sudden the chain is off, and its horns towards you, and its hoof scraping at the dust, the bull looks an entirely different animal.
“Fencing is one thing,” he said. “Actual violence quite another. Few of us are made for it. It is healthy to be disabused of our self-deceptions every now and then, even if it hurts.”
The sad truth is that pretty people can slide through all kinds of scrapes that’d end very badly for the ugly.
You strip a prisoner to make them feel vulnerable. Make them feel they’ve nowhere they can hide a secret. But it only works if you let it. Vick made sure she dressed just the way she would have if she was alone. When you grow up in the camps, sleeping beside strangers, sharing their warmth, their stink, their lice, hosed down in a cringing pack by the guards when the sickness comes through, modesty is a luxury you soon learn to live without.
One cannot eliminate unhappiness any more than one can eliminate darkness. The goal of government, you see,” and the Arch Lector prodded at the air with his bony forefinger, “is to load the unhappiness onto those least able to make you suffer for it.”
“Misjudgement is as much a part of life as unhappiness. It is nice to hold the power and make the choices for everyone. But the risk of making any choice is always that you might make the wrong one. We must make our choices nonetheless. Fear of being a grown-up is a poor reason to remain a child.”
“You’ve lost as much as anyone.” “More than most.” “Then how can you—” “Because if I learned one thing in the camps…” She leaned down over him, baring her teeth, making him shrink back into his chair. “It’s that you stand with the winners.”
“She is an investor,” said Glokta. Orso played the dunce, waving one hand so his lace cuff flapped about the fingers. “A kind of… merchant?” “A merchant in inventions. Machines. Manufactories. Better ways of doing things. She buys ideas and makes them real.”
“Progress just means bad things happen faster.” Terry Pratchett
“The Breakers want to force concessions from me. The Burners want to see me and the entire nobility and government of the Union hanged so they can impose a new order, probably one on fire.”
“Never had to face hard times,” said Wonderful, softly. Clover wagged a finger at her. “There speaks the stern voice of experience. Defeats do men far more good than victories.” And he reached up and scratched gently at his scar. “Best gift I was ever given. Taught me humility.”
“Attacking the city with an army would be like eating peas with a sword,” he said. “Messy, frustrating and you’ve a good chance of stabbing yourself in the face. We need to be measured. Calm. The firm but necessary hand of authority. We need to be the grown-ups.” For once in his life.
“Wars may be won by the clever, but battles have to be fought by the brave. It’s time.”
“Love turns, with a little indulgence, to indifference or disgust; hatred alone is immortal.” William Hazlitt
“Gentle? Ha! If you’re wounded, a gentle healer’s the last thing you want.” Isern made the boy gurgle as she dug the needle back into his shoulder. “If you’re wounded, a gentle healer could be the last thing you get. A great healer needs to be tougher and more ruthless than a great warrior. They’re taking on a far harder job with far less reward.”
“I reckon we want the same thing, you and I.” “And what the fuck is that?” “Glory!” barked Leo, voice clapping off the narrow walls and making Stour flinch. “You want men to whisper your name with fear. With awe. With pride. You want to hear it in the songs, in the same breath as the Bloody-Nine’s, and Whirrun of Bligh’s, and the great warriors of the age! You want fame.” And Leo shook his clenched fist in Stour’s face. “Fame in the Circle and fame on the battlefield! You want to strive against great enemies and put the bastards in the mud. You want to win!” He snapped that word out like a
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Vengeance is just an empty chest you choose to carry. One you have to go bent under the weight of all your days. One score settled only plants the seeds of two more.”
Savine pressed her fingers to her temples. Her head was throbbing. She ripped her wig off and flung it into the corner. “I’m the king’s bastard, my father’s not my father, and I’ve been sucking my brother’s cock?” she screamed.
And now he slid into a bog of depression. Savine had been the approaching dawn, and now the sun was snuffed out and he was plunged into eternal gloom. He watched the rain thicken outside. It wasn’t only her that he had lost, but the better man he could have been with her beside him, the better Union they might have forged together. He felt himself wilting, melting down his chair into a sagging slump. He scarcely had the energy to lift his head. Scarcely had the energy to breathe.
Broad looked up at her. “You believe in God, right?” “Oh, yes. Absolutely.” “Thought he was dead set against violence?” “If he was set that firmly against it…” And Zuri smiled as she closed his aching fist around the coin and gave it a fond pat. “Why would he make men like you?”
Sometimes pretty lies win the day. But sometimes ugly truths cut deeper.
