The Girl in The Tower: (Winternight Trilogy)

by Katherine Arden

“You offered me a dowry; you came when I asked you to rid us of the priest. Now this. What do you want of me in return, Morozko?” He seemed to hesitate, just an instant. “Think of me sometimes,” he returned.

And the faces—so many faces, and not one she knew. The novelty dizzied her. Pies and porridge, cloth and leathers, beggars and prelates and artisans’ wives passed under her delighted gaze. This, she thought, is what it means to be a traveler.

I carve things of wood because things made by effort are more real than things made by wishing.”

Yet every time I go near her, the bond tightens. What immortal ever knew what it was like to number his days? Yet I can feel the hours passing when she is near.”

“If you want something, it means you do not have it, it means that you do not believe it is there, which means it will never be there. The fire is or it is not. That which you call magic is simply not allowing the world to be other than as you will it.”

“To small minds,” she told him, spine very straight, “any skill must look like sorcery.”

“I want freedom,” she said at length, almost to herself. “But I also want a place and a purpose. I am not sure I can have either, let alone both.

Every time you take one path, you must live with the memory of the other: of a life left unchosen. Decide as seems best, one course or the other; each way will have its bitter with its sweet.”