The Dire King Quotes

“I never found a book that did not have at least a little magic in it”
― William Ritter, The Dire King

“This world doesn't need showy champions. It needs people who are good, people who do good, even if nobody will ever know.”
― William Ritter, The Dire King

“All due respect to Romeo and Juliet, but I don’t think love is sacrifice at all. Real love is when you let another person make you better. You don’t lose yourself in love—you find yourself there.”
― William Ritter, The Dire King

“Magic is just magic!” Jackaby threw up his hands. “It’s not inherently special or strange or dangerous! It’s everywhere! It’s already all around you! If just being magical meant that something was dangerous, you’d have long since been killed by a butterfly, or a bubble, or an apple turnover.” “Those things aren’t magical.” “Of course they’re magical! Argh! You infuriating man! If a unicorn came and sat in the corner of your office every day, then by the end of the year you’d be hanging your coat on its horn. There is magic in your life! Not appreciating it does not make it any less magical. Yes, some of that magic is dangerous, but so are scissors and electricity and politics—and plenty of other completely human inventions!”
― William Ritter, The Dire King

“We do it by the book, then?"
"Precisely. By the book. Yes. Except that there isn't a book."
"Right. We do it by a vague but nevertheless tenacious commitment to the book that there isn't.”
― William Ritter, The Dire King

“I read the first few," said Jackaby. "I've instructed my duck to just file the rest directly under P. I left it to him to decide if that was for politics or paranoia.”
― William Ritter, The Dire King

“I learned a long time ago that we do not survive because we’re strong—we become stronger the more we survive.”
― William Ritter, The Dire King

“The sight had been Jackaby's beautiful burden and his terrible gift. And now it was mine.
...
"The Seer is dead," said Alina.
"No," I said, swallowing hard. "She's not.”
― William Ritter, The Dire King

“In the heart of hate is nothing dear.

The spear grips the hand that grips the spear.

Temper the armor, steady the shield.

The weapon to fear is the one that you wield,

for a Kingdom of Blood is a desolate thing,

a dire crown for a dire king.”
― William Ritter, The Dire King

“It is a greater travesty by far to see the innocent punished than to watch the guilty go free.”
― William Ritter, The Dire King

“He might not have both oars in the water, but his course is sound.”
― William Ritter, The Dire King

“Do you really think he'll still help you if you murder me?" I said, horrified.

Pavel snorted. "Do you really think he'll let the world burn just because you've died?" Pavel said.

"Try me," Jackaby growled.”
― William Ritter, The Dire King

“Wood nymphs,” said Jackaby.
“Not a real cheery lot, them,” observed Hudson.
“In retrospect, a library is a rather somber locale for their kind. A bit like housing a man in a graveyard. Well, a bit like housing a man in a graveyard in which his people’s bones have been mashed to a pulp and reconstituted into slim sheets, onto which one has scribbled a lot of silly words with pictures of monks and satyrs in the margins.”
― William Ritter, The Dire King

“Fight the monsters, then, Phillip. Don't fight the innocent bystanders who happen to come from the same place. You're not afraid of magic, not really. You're just afraid of what you don't understand - and too stubborn to try understanding.”
― William Ritter, The Dire King

“We do it by the book, then?”

“Precisely. By the book. Yes. Except that there isn’t a book.”

“Right. We do it by a vague but nevertheless tenacious commitment to the book that there isn’t.”

“That’s why I like you, Miss Rook—you catch on to the subtle nuances so quickly.”
― William Ritter, The Dire King

“That will suffice," Jackaby grumbled loudly from behind me. "Yes, yes. You are young and your love is a hot biscuit and other abysmally romantic metaphors, I'm sure. You do recall that you saw each other yesterday?”
― William Ritter, The Dire King

“We reached the doors and Jackaby inspected the lock. “It isn’t broken,” he said. “It’s unlocked. From the outside. Wait here.” He stalked down the steps and returned a minute later holding the sky iron chain. It had been sliced into pieces. “The bad news is, she’s gone,” he said. “And worse, she has the black blade.”

“Is there good news?” Miss Lee asked.

“Well,” Jackaby answered gamely, “karmically, I would say we’re due for an upswing on the pendulum of fortune. That’s almost good news.”

“That’s not good news,” Serif said, crossly. “That’s just a very wordy way of saying it’s all bad news.”
― William Ritter, The Dire King

“Why do you have a dead preacher in your attic?” “Because we found it easier to carry him up to the coffin than to maneuver it down to him.”
― William Ritter, The Dire King

“It would be really wonderful if all this could be a dream,” I said.

“Come now, you’ll get there. Focus on one aura at a time; that helps. What do you see when you look at me?”

I took a breath. “A kind of idiosyncratic bluish with a happy patch of crimson right around your middle. You’re a bit dark—but also very light in funny little ways.” I blinked. “There are also notes of a sort of rosy color hanging all around both you and Jenny. No, not rosy, exactly. How would you describe it—a buoyant sort of flush?”

“Buoyant is not a color,” said Jackaby. “You sound ridiculous. But an excellent start! The sight will take time to understand. I’m here to help.”

“I’m here for you, too, Abigail,” Jenny assured me, putting a hand on Jackaby’s shoulder as she glided forward to join us. “We can practice together and take it slow. It’s the least I could do after everything you’ve done to help me figure out my own abilities.”

I nodded. “It’s nice to see that you’re not having any more trouble in that area,” I said. Jenny’s hand was still on Jackaby’s shoulder. The flush around their auras increased when I mentioned it.

“I’m not even sure how it happened,” Jenny said. “I just needed it to happen, and it did.”

“Not surprised about it at all,” said Jackaby.

“Not surprised?” Jenny said. “Yesterday I couldn’t so much as brush a hair out of your eyes, but today I reached inside your chest and held your heart in my hands—and you’re not surprised?”

“Not at all. My heart was always yours,” said Jackaby.

Jenny leaned back and looked at him, startled. “That is about the sweetest thing I think you’ve ever said.”


“Was it good?” He gave her a goofy grin. “I was trying to work out how to phrase it the whole ride over.”

“Not good at all, no,” she said, trying unsuccessfully to keep a smile off her face. “It was sappy and maudlin and positively terrible. Sweet, though. Excellent effort.”

“You’re just jealous because we’re both technically undead now, and I’m clearly so much better at it.”

“Jealous? I’m not jealous. For the first time since I’ve known you, I have the power to shut you up.” She leaned in and kissed him right on the lips.”
― William Ritter, The Dire King

“You know,” I said, “you don’t owe New Fiddleham anything. You don’t need to help them.”

“Look,” Charlie said as we clipped past Market Street. He was pointing at a man delicately painting enormous letters onto a broad window as we passed. NONNA SANTORO’S, it read, although the RO’S was still just an outline.

“That Italian restaurant?”

“Yes,” he smiled. “They will be opening their doors for the first time very soon. Sweet family. I bought my first meal in New Fiddleham from that man. A couple of meatballs from a street cart were about all I could afford at the time. He’s an immigrant, too. He’s going to do well. His red sauce is amazing.”

“That’s grand for him, then,” I said.

“I like it when doors open,” said Charlie. “Doors are opening in New Fiddleham every day. It is a remarkable time to be alive anywhere, really. Do you think our parents could ever have imagined having machines that could wash dishes, machines that could sew, machines that do laundry? Pretty soon we’ll be taking this trolley ride without any horses. I’ve heard that Glanville has electric streetcars already. Who knows what will be possible fifty years from now, or a hundred. Change isn’t always so bad.”

“Your optimism is both baffling and inspiring,” I said.

“The sun is rising,” he replied with a little chuckle.

I glanced at the sky. It was well past noon.

“It’s just something my sister and I used to say,” he clarified. “I think you would like Alina. You often remind me of her. She has a way of refusing to let the world keep her down.” He smiled and his gaze drifted away, following the memory.

“Alina found a rolled-up canvas once,” he said, “a year or so after our mother passed away. It was an oil painting—a picture of the sun hanging low over a rippling ocean. She was a beautiful painter, our mother. I could tell that it was one of hers, but I had never seen it before. It felt like a message, like she had sent it, just for us to find.

“I said that it was a beautiful sunset, and Alina said no, it was a sunrise. We argued about it, actually. I told her that the sun in the picture was setting because it was obviously a view from our camp near Gelendzhik, overlooking the Black Sea. That would mean the painting was looking to the west.

“Alina said that it didn’t matter. Even if the sun is setting on Gelendzhik, that only means that it is rising in Bucharest. Or Vienna. Or Paris. The sun is always rising somewhere. From then on, whenever I felt low, whenever I lost hope and the world felt darkest, Alina would remind me: the sun is rising.”

“I think I like Alina already. It’s a heartening philosophy. I only worry that it’s wasted on this city.”

“A city is just people,” Charlie said. “A hundred years from now, even if the roads and buildings are still here, this will still be a whole new city. New Fiddleham is dying, every day, but it is also being constantly reborn. Every day, there is new hope. Every day, the sun rises. Every day, there are doors opening.”

I leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “When we’re through saving the world,” I said, “you can take me out to Nonna Santoro’s. I have it on good authority that the red sauce is amazing.”

He blushed pink and a bashful smile spread over his face. “When we’re through saving the world, Miss Rook, I will hold you to that.”
― William Ritter, The Dire King

“Honestly, sir,” I said, “I don’t see why you’re making such a fuss.” We had excused ourselves to speak privately for a moment, leaving poor Charlie politely rocking on his heels in the foyer. The office was warm and smelled of sage and witch hazel, and the desk was littered with bits of twine and herbs where Jackaby had been preparing fresh wards. Douglas had burrowed into a nest of old receipts on the bookshelf behind us and was sound asleep with his bill tucked back into his wing. I had given up trying to get him to stop napping on the paperwork. “You’re the one who told me that I shouldn’t have to choose between profession and romance,” I said.

“I’m not the one making a fuss. I don’t care the least bit about your little foray into . . . romance.” Jackaby pushed the word out of his mouth as though it had been reluctantly clinging to the back of his throat. “If anything, I am concerned that you are choosing to make precisely the choice that I told you you should not make!”

“What? Wait a moment. Are you . . . jealous?”

“Don’t be asinine! I am not jealous! I am merely . . . protective. And perhaps troubled by your lack of fidelity to your position.”

“That is literally the definition of jealous, sir. Oh, for goodness’ sake. I’m not choosing Charlie over you! I’m not going to suddenly stop being your assistant just because I spend time working on another case!”

“You might!” he blurted out. He sank down into the chair at his desk. “You just might.”

“Why are you acting like this?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Because things change. Because people change. Because . . . because Charlie Barker is going to propose,” he said. He let his hand drop and looked me in the eyes. “Marriage,” he added. “To you.”

I blinked.

“I miss a social cue or two from time to time, but even I’m not thick enough to believe all that was about analyzing bloodstains together. He has the ring. It’s in his breast pocket right now. He’s attached an absurd level of emotional investment to the thing—I’m surprised it hasn’t burned a hole right through the front of his jacket, the way its aura is glowing. He’s nervous about it. He’s going to propose. Soon, I would guess.”

I blinked.

The air in front of me wavered like a mirage, and in another moment Jenny had rematerialized. “And if he does,” she said softly, “it will be Abigail’s decision to face, not yours. There are worse fates than to receive a proposal from a handsome young suitor.” She added, turning to me with a grin, “Charlie is a good man.”

“Yes, fine! But she has such prodigious potential!” Jackaby lamented. “Having feelings is one thing—I can grudgingly tolerate feelings—but actually getting married? The next thing you know they’ll be wanting to do something rash, like live together ! Miss Rook, you have started something here that I am loath to see you leave unfinished. You’ve started becoming someone here whom I truly want to meet when she is done. Choosing to leave everything you have here to go be a good man’s wife would be such a wretched waste of that promise.” He faltered, looking to Jenny, and then to the floorboards. “On the other hand, you should never have chosen to work for me in the first place. It remains one of your most ill-conceived and reckless decisions to date—and that is saying something, because you also chose to blow up a dragon once.” He sighed. “Jenny is right. You could make a real life with that young man, and you shouldn’t throw that away just to hang about with a fractious bastard and a belligerent duck.” He sagged until his forehead was resting on his desk.”
― William Ritter, The Dire King

“Miss Rook!” His chocolate brown eyes brightened as he saw me, and he crossed the room at once to sweep me into a warm embrace. I felt his chest rise and fall. I could hear his heartbeat. He smelled like cedar.

“That will suffice,” Jackaby grumbled loudly from behind me. “Yes, yes. You are young and your love is a hot biscuit and other abysmally romantic metaphors, I’m sure. You do recall that you saw each other yesterday?”

Charlie pulled away but paused to brush a hand gently across my neck. His smile was tired but gratified. I straightened and tried to will the flush out of my cheeks. “Normal people do occasionally express fondness for one another.”

“Yes, fine. I’m familiar with the concept,” he groused. “It’s the bubbly auras and fluttering eyelashes that really test one’s limits.”

“My eyelashes do not flutter,” I said.

“Who said I was talking about your eyelashes? Charlie has eyelashes.”

“I apologize, Mr. Jackaby, for any undue fluttering on my part,” Charlie said diplomatically.”
― William Ritter, The Dire King

“There is magic in your life! Not appreciating it does not make it any less magical. Yes, some of that magic is dangerous, but so are scissors and electricity and politics- and plenty of other completely human inventions!”
― William Ritter, The Dire King

“You don’t lose yourself in love-you find yourself there.”
― William Ritter, The Dire King

“Those things aren't magical."
"Of course they're magical! Argh! You infuriating man! If a unicorn came and sat in the corner of your office every day, then by the end of the year you'd be hanging your coat on its horn. There is magic in your life! Not appreciating it does not make it any less magical. Yes, some of that magic is dangerous, but so are scissors and electricity and politics- and plenty of other completely human inventions!”
― William Ritter, The Dire King

“How is Marie?"
"Walking already... Growing so fast. Calls me Da. She calls the dog Da too, and the neighbor's cat, but I try not to take it too personally... Who's she?"
"She's here with me," Charlie said.
"You mean she isn't," Dupin corrected. "Because you're definitely not here... Should anyone 'not be here' while I'm away, they would do well to make their 'not being here' brief.”
― William Ritter, The Dire King

“We cannot make the world less awful by being more so ourselves.” “We do it by the book, then?” “Precisely. By the book. Yes. Except that there isn’t a book.” “Right. We do it by a vague but nevertheless tenacious commitment to the book that there isn’t.” “That’s why I like you, Miss Rook—you catch on to the subtle nuances so quickly.”
― William Ritter, The Dire King

“I said that it was a beautiful sunset, and Alina said no, it was a sunrise. We argued about it, actually. I told her that the sun in the picture was setting because it was obviously a view from our camp near Gelendzhik, overlooking the Black Sea. That would mean the painting was looking to the west. “Alina said that it didn’t matter. Even if the sun is setting on Gelendzhik, that only means that it is rising in Bucharest. Or Vienna. Or Paris. The sun is always rising somewhere. From then on, whenever I felt low, whenever I lost hope and the world felt darkest, Alina would remind me: the sun is rising.”
― William Ritter, The Dire King

“Science is just paying attention and sorting out the rules already in place.”
― William Ritter, The Dire King

“Serif?" Jackaby said when he had recovered his footing. "What on earth are you doing...on earth?"

"My Lord Arawn has requested a report of your progress," she answered stiffly. "I am here to collect it. Your duck let me in.”
― William Ritter, The Dire King