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This room was as warm as the corridor had been chill, and alive as the other chambers had been deserted. I recall a quantity of furniture in it, rugs and hangings, and shelves of tablets and scrolls overlaid with the scattering of clutter that any well-used and comfortable chamber takes on. There was a fire burning in a massive fireplace, filling the room with heat and a pleasantly resinous scent.
For a moment the man looked surprised and a look of what might have been pity crossed his face. But it disappeared as swiftly, leaving him looking only discomfited, or mildly annoyed.
But I liked best the errands that took us into the taverns. There the storytellers and gossips plied their trades.
Learning is never wrong. Even learning how to kill isn’t wrong. Or right.
“Most prisons are of our own making. A man makes his own freedom, too.”
“When you spring to an idea, and decide it is truth, without evidence, you blind yourself to other possibilities.
If the lectures on manners had wearied me, the repetition of hound lore was almost painfully tedious.
I jerked awake before the moon had surrendered her reign over the sky,
That is the trick of good government. To make folk desire to live in such a way that there is no need for its intervention.”
There were breathtaking views of the sea from the hilltops, and flower-scented air thick and drowsy in the vales.
fishing fleet was all shallow draft vessels with flat bottoms, or spunky little dories that rode the waves like gulls. Neatbay didn’t have the deep anchorage that Buckkeep did, so it was not the shipping and trading port that we were,
Her scent rolled over me like a wave, and it, too, smelled of coin more than flowers.
We were on a hilltop so thickly treed that the sky was barely glimpsed overhead. I could hear the ocean, and smell it, but could catch no sight of it.
Now that we were still, I could hear and smell the life all around us. Birds called, and I heard the movement of small animals in the underbrush and in the branches overhead.
It was muggy under the trees and we were blessed with multitudes of tiny stinging flies that tortured the horses and crept into my clothes to find flesh to feast on.
But sometimes there are no choices but poor ones. Sometimes, in bad times like these.”
“When you cut pieces out of the truth to avoid looking like a fool, you end up sounding like a moron instead.
Nothing takes the heart out of a man more than the expectation of failure.
