Paladin of Souls (World of the Five Gods, #2)

by Lois McMaster Bujold

Who am I, when I am not surrounded by the walls of my life? When they have all fallen into dust and rubble?

he stopped worrying about all the things he thought she ought to have, that weren’t here, and provided what she asked for, which was.

Along the heights, the gray bones of the world poked through the thinner soil, soaking in the sun like old men on a plaza bench.

Liss, sitting cross-legged against the parapet on the opposite side of the platform, was staring up with her mouth open. The two soldiers weren’t even pretending to be watching Jokonans. Their riveted expressions were of men contemplating a daunting feat they had no desire to emulate, such as swallowing fire, or being the first to charge up a scaling ladder.

“You hate him. You hate me.” “You are twice mistaken, though I admit to a strong desire to slap you at times. Now, for instance.

“You may accept or refuse, but you may not have other choices. It quite resembles a miracle, in that regard.

He looks to spare you pain this night. I look to your nights for the next twenty years.

The god may be absent, but I am still present. Maybe this is a task for dense matter, to do what matter does best: persist. So. She took a breath and kept on walking.

I’m not getting it all sorted, she worried. I’m not getting it right. You are brilliant, the Voice reassured her. It is imperfect. So are all things trapped in time. You are brilliant, nonetheless. How fortunate for Us that We thirst for glorious souls rather than faultless ones, or We should be parched indeed, and most lonely in Our perfect righteousness. Carry on imperfectly, shining Ista.

least

lest

The dim gray eyes reddened, edged with water’s gleam. “I am too old to start over.” “You have more years ahead of you now than Pejar, half your age, whom we buried outside these walls these two days past. Stand before his grave and use your gift of breath to complain of your limited time. If you dare.” He jerked a little at the steel in her voice. “I offer you an honorable new beginning. I do not guarantee its ending. Attempts fail, but not as certainly as tasks never attempted.”

“Once, He borrowed your face to speak through. It appears that Someone thinks you not unworthy to wear His colors, Learned, to wear in turn the semblance of your flesh.”