An Alchemy of Masques and Mirrors

The most important things we have are dreams," Isabelle said. "Without them we cannot conjure new truths or better worlds. Where we get into trouble is when we tell ourselves dreams don't matter, or we let other people tell us our dreams are silly or stupid. I dream of peace, and I won't give it up.

Why did tradition always insist that ignorance was the optimum state for important transactions involving women?

After a moment he added, "Though if you do find it necessary to execute me, I request that my funeral include a tower of horse shit burned in my honor." Grand Leon glanced at him from the corner of his eye. "In the tradition of a great hero being sent off with his preferred weapon?" "Yes, sire.

She slapped down a mug of something that was, he suspected, technically alcohol, but only because it had a good lawyer.

Alas, there are no happy endings, only interesting middles,

Men of action must be led by men of virtue, else there is no honor, merely chaos and barbarism.

Any decision we make, no matter how wise or foolish, bold or timid, will be paid for in blood and pain and suffering. If we order a road built, inevitably someone will die building it, and once it is finished trade will shift from one town to another, one man will grow rich while another will starve. If we are wise, we do more good than harm, but we can no more avoid causing harm than we can avoid growing old.

Principe Julio, I deduce," Jean-Claude said, even as his mind lifted into a gallop. If Julio was here..."Where is Princess Isabelle?" "Safe for now, on a reef in the upper sky four days' sail from here. She bids me give a message to her faithful musketeer, Jean-Claude. She says she is safe, sound, secure, and several synonyms starting with 'S.'" "What?" Jean-Claude stiffened to hear Isabelle's private speech uttered from Julio's lips. Julio said, "She's also fine, feisty, fabulous, and fierce if that helps.

And he was trying to stuff her into the middle of this museum, as if by surrounding her with things of the past he could blend and brush her onto the canvas of his memory and pretend she had been there all along.

Isabelle was supposed to say something to Jean-Claude, to acknowledge him in a princessly way, but her mouth was dry and her voice didn't want to work. What if her father was listening in through Marie? Isabelle had cost Marie her humanity with one ill-chosen word. How much more damage might she cause with another? After a difficult moment, Isabelle muttered, "Musketeer," which wasn't so much a greeting as an unsupported noun.

Men seeking power only acknowledged fact insofar as it supported their ambitions.