Kindle Notes & Highlights
"Young as he is, Rolan has divined the truth that all men and women implicitly know: music transcends borders, be they blood or country. And a charming little troubadour may come in handy in a pinch, wouldn't you say? Who knows — at some point, Rolan might be the protector of us all!"
Give no warning of your intentions until you mean to act, his old mentor Elis had once said. Then give no quarter.
he had rarely outdone Wren in anything. A trouper from birth, she was keen of wit and tongue, and reading and writing were never any barrier, even in multiple languages. She was better with a blade and bolder in battle. When she cared to, she could employ her training as an actor to manipulate people into acting as suited her, an ability Garin constantly had to guard against. But she made for a poor sorcerer, at least compared to him. In this, Garin had the upper hand. And all because you were foolish enough to meddle with a cursed medallion.
"I've been a prick, I can admit that," she went on. "And I won't be any longer. But… there is still one thing." His hopes faltered. "What now?" Wren jabbed a finger painfully into his chest, emphasizing her words with it. "You matter. I don't. No, don't argue — I'm not trying to gain your pity. I'm just facing how things really are. You're a Fount, just as you said. You have that devil in your head and grasp sorcery as easily as walking or breathing. You might make a difference against Yuldor. But me? I can scrap, and caper, and read — but none of that matters out here in the East." She
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A memory came back to him, something Tal had said back when they'd first set out toward Halenhol together. Violence should always be a last resort. Tal didn't like to kill, not unless he had to. It was something Garin admired about him. It was that quality that had made him inevitably believe him when Tal said he hadn't meant to cause the death of Garin's father.
The sorcery intoxicated him more thoroughly than any soporific or drink could have achieved. He reveled in it. He felt the glowing, pulsing cords that wound around him and through him, interconnecting all of life, all of the World. The Heart's arteries. Sorcery was not just a part of life; it was life, life itself.
Tal gave weight to each word of his reply. "Bonds do not weaken me. They are the only reason I survived. Our ties keep us whole, keep us human. But I would not expect a servant of Yuldor to understand that."
Tal noted that Garin and Wren slept in the same tent. He smiled at that. He had hoped their fragile relationship might survive. They were well-suited to his eye, but between the toils of the journey and the vagaries of youth, there was a good chance something could break it.
Her renewed warmth toward him was his one comfort, especially when they had spent a brief time the night before reacquainting themselves with each others' lips. But before they could become more familiar, Wren had pushed him back toward his side of the shelter. "Later," she had said, a bit breathless, to his satisfaction. "When we both don't smell like mongrels." Even her coarse words failed to ruin the moment.
