City of Bones

Sarcasm is the last refuge of the imaginatively bankrupt.

If I fail, everything terrible that happens next will be my fault. That's the perfect, fitting end to my life, don't you think?" "If you fail, I promise not to tell anybody," he said.

What magic does is to open the mind to the world and sometimes the world isn't what we think it is.

No, you think you’re always honest, and that is not the same thing at all.

Elen turned away, her hands knotting up into fists. “Damn him,” she muttered, “to the highest level of hell.” “Better make it a little lower,” Khat told her, sourly. “He could probably tunnel out of that one.

Elen was silent; then abruptly she twisted around and sat up. She looked over the edge again, as if trying to acclimate herself. Then she said, “I know you. You just want to die somewhere more interesting than this rock.

Please,” she added more softly. “I can’t do this with a clear conscience unless I know you’ll tell the Master Warder what happened.” “Why is a clear conscience necessary?” Sagai asked, not helpfully. “All it takes is a confused sense of duty and a disregard for personal survival.” “Elen will enjoy herself more with a clear conscience,” Khat told him. He asked her, “Are you done? Can we hurry?” “Just be quiet,” Elen snapped. “You two are worse than Gandin, Seul, and Riathen all put together. This is a nightmare.

Elen buried her face in her hands, apparently fighting for calm. “I understand perfectly,” she said finally. “Did you ever consider that perhaps Lushan didn’t go mad until after he met you?

I’m not giving advice, I’m only stating facts.” “Bad advice, bad facts, what’s the difference?

Smiling, the man looks up at his companion across the table and says, “It’s an intriguing game where one player sees the board and the other is blindfolded.” “Yes,” she replies, “But which player are we?

If you were a potter’s daughter, we would not expect you to contribute much. But you are not a potter’s daughter, and our household has many children.

Elen let him lead her to the pallet near the fire. She had tricked the Master Warder with a veiling of sight. She knew she should not have been able to do that. Not ever. Perhaps they were right. Perhaps she was mad. She hoped so. It might be her only chance.

At the end of the colonnade he stopped her again to listen, and she whispered, “I meant, when you followed me out here, didn’t you have some sort of plan of action?” Somewhere back the way they had come he could hear shouting. Shiskan’s people would hardly need to shout; it was probably the Academia’s vigils, finally awake to the notion that something odd was happening. “Didn’t you have a plan of action when you ran out here?” he asked her. “I see your point.

He eyed Elen warily and answered, “The palace.” Khat and Sagai both looked up at her. Elen glared down at them. “How fortunate there’s an Imperial representative handy for vilification.” “We didn’t say anything,” Khat pointed out tightly. “Do you think you need vilifying?” “You might as well have said it.

Cautiously, he nodded to Elen. “Who’s this?” “My apprentice.” “You took an apprentice?” His interest quickened, Caster looked almost animated. “Tagri Isoda will go mad. He wanted you to take his son.” “His son’s an idiot.” Caster nodded agreeably. “But you can’t tell him that. Oh, I know you told him, but he doesn’t listen.

It was a treat to make Elen lose her temper.

Watching the sunset, Khat thought of the cult in Kenniliar Free City that worshiped the sun’s nightly descent as a ritual death by wearing red mourning robes and holding an elaborate funeral every evening. He supposed he could understand their need to somehow mark the passage of beauty, and it did give them something to do.

A voice close to his ear said, “You were the one who warned me.” The accent was educated, the voice deep, with an actor’s gift for measured tone and timbre. It sent Khat right over the edge into homicidal fury. His own voice tight with suppressed rage, he said, “I swear I’ll never do it again.

He could still be a Trade Inspector trying to trap you somehow,” Sagai argued as they crossed the court. “That Seul fellow did offer you coin.” “Then I’ll be honest,” Khat answered, reaching into the door hole to pop the latch. “I’m always honest.” Sagai snorted. “No, you think you’re always honest, and that is not the same thing at all.

Then she frowned at Khat, realizing what he had said. "If we jump? No one's jumping. Don't say that. We'll have to climb to get back.

This message is for you," he told him. "The next time somebody wants to teach me a lesson, don't help.

With a grimace that was probably supposed to be a sneer, he asked, "What do you want?