Sea of Sorrow Quotes

“You can pour yourself some brew,” he said, shaking the bubbling jug at her, “but I’m not sure you’ll like it. I don’t like it at all.” Karissa’s eyes flashed and she poured herself a full glass of it, but didn’t drink. Women... The man who finally manages to understand them will easily become the ruler of the world.”
― Kirill Klevanski, Sea of Sorrow

“Hadjar arched his right eyebrow.”
― Kirill Klevanski, Sea of Sorrow

“In my homeland, there is only sand.” “What’s sand?” The boy asked. His sister rolled her eyes, “It’s yellow snow!” “Yuck,” the twins said, “that’s gross.” “I tried it once,” the absentminded twin said. “Ragar’s grandson and I made a bet, and I lost. Yellow snow is very yucky.”
― Kirill Klevanski, Sea of Sorrow

“In my homeland, there is only sand.” “What’s sand?” The boy asked. His sister rolled her eyes, “It’s yellow snow!” “Yuck,” the twins said, “that’s gross.”
― Kirill Klevanski, Sea of Sorrow

“Let’s start with the boy. His name is Sankesh. Strong, healthy, tall for his people’s standards. He’s still quite young too — only fifteen springs!” He deliberately understated Sankesh’s age, and, while describing his characteristics, showed off his teeth, his muscles, and banged his stick against Sankesh’s tendons. He also mentioned that the slave would be able to make his master a few more slaves and forced Sankesh to lower his pants for a while. “As you can see, despite his small stature,” Sankesh did look kind of tiny compared to the northerners, “he has a considerably large…” The slave trader didn’t finish his sentence and just smirked instead. Several of the northern women grunted, and the men looked at him without envy, simply eyeing him pragmatically. Sankesh was used to it. Moreover, it was the organ in his pants that had allowed him to leave the previous auctions as a very valuable slave. No one wanted to buy a slave who couldn’t procreate.”
― Kirill Klevanski, Sea of Sorrow

“Gods? Demons? Elixirs? Fuck all of that! Hadjar didn’t need any reasons to fight when he was called to battle by his honor.

Even the word ‘honor’... Who had invented it? What had it meant to the previous generations? What would it mean to the generations after his? Fuck that shit as well!

All of it was just nonsense.

There were no causes, no consequences, no honor, and no rules. There was only a path. Ant it wasn’t the path of cultivation. It was the path of Life. The path Hadjar had chosen to take. It wasn’t crooked. It had no turns, no ups or downs. There were no stops or breaks. It was a straightforward journey. It led somewhere beyond the horizon, to a place where no man had gone before.

His own way. That was all that mattered in this life. Hadjar didn’t have to justify himself if he followed it. The fact that he’d almost strayed off it only confirmed what he already knew, deep down.

Hadjar had always done what he’d had to do. When everyone said it was impossible, he did it. When no one believed he would get back up, he rose. When everyone thought he was going to die, Hadjar survived. Because that was his path.”
― Kirill Klevanski, Sea of Sorrow

“Found it,” Einen said. Their very large boxes, sealed with glowing hieroglyphs, were at the bottom. Einen recognized them by the designations written on the tops of the boxes in the desert language: ‘Islander’ and ‘Northerner’. Pulling them out of the rack, the friends thought about what they should do next. Then it dawned on Hadjar and he simply touched the hieroglyph. His blue bracelet flashed, and then the seal disappeared, melting away like a slight haze. The sword lying inside the box soothed his tense nerves better than any herbal tincture ever could. As soon as Mountain Wind was back in his calloused hand, confidence welled up in Hadjar’s soul: no obstacle in his path could stop him or even slow him down. The old leather wallet with his friends’ wedding bracelets reassured his aching heart. ‘The Black Gates’ Patriarch’s ring, the fairy’s tears, and little Serra’s gift were almost insignificant compared to those two most important things. Although, after looking at the sword, Hadjar tied the wallet to his belt first. There were many swords in this world after all... “I don’t think you’re allowed to do what you want here,” someone behind him said. Hadjar turned around. He realized that he’d been lost in his own thoughts for a while. The sounds of merriment had long since subsided. The central hall, which had resembled a tavern and a brothel at the same time, was now empty. All the practitioners wearing blue amulets had bared their weapons and crowded behind Glen. He was still lazily sipping from his mug, but his gaze was tenacious. The leader of the fifty ‘guinea pigs’, selected by Karissa, was ready to fight. To the death. Einen, who’d somehow managed to put his people’s traditional outfit on, stood next to Hadjar. In his hand, the spear-staff, which hadn’t exposed its deadly stinger yet, swayed dangerously. “Put those things back and go to bed,” Glen said bossily. “You shouldn’t steal from people who’ve sheltered you.” “We haven’t stolen anything,” Einen snapped in reply, “we’ve just taken back our things.” “There’s nothing of yours here.” “The names on the boxes beg to differ,” Hadjar stated calmly. They met Glen’s eyes. By the Evening Stars, the undersized rogue was one of the few people who could withstand Hadjar’s gaze. “It seems that children from the north and the islands can’t count,” Glen said more forcefully. “I’ll give you one more chance. Put-” “Put a dog’s reproductive organ down your throat,” Einen spat on the floor. His friend’s cursing made Hadjar open his mouth in surprise. Apparently, the stress of the recent weeks had really affected the usually calm islander. “How many newbies have you cheated like this so far? You make them think that they can’t take their things back, and then you send them to their deaths.”
― Kirill Klevanski, Sea of Sorrow

“Northerner, I’ve been here for three weeks, playing chess with bats. You want to know what scares me the most? I lost a few times! Therefore, no matter what you end up proposing, I’ve already thought it over several times.”
― Kirill Klevanski, Sea of Sorrow

“There was no way out. “What if-” “Already thought about it.” “Maybe-” “That too.” “We could-” “Not very likely.”
― Kirill Klevanski, Sea of Sorrow