“Tell me, Tool, what dominates your thoughts?'
The Imass shrugged before replying.
'I think of futility, Adjunct.'
'Do all Imass think about futility?'
'No. Few think at all.'
'Why is that?'
The Imass leaned his head to one side and regarded her.
'Because Adjunct, it is futile.”
“Ambition is not a dirty word. Piss on compromise. Go for the throat.”
“Every decision you make can change the world. The best life is the one the gods don't notice. You want to live free, boy, live quietly."
"I want to be a soldier. A hero."
"You'll grow out of it.”
“Now these ashes have grown cold, we open the old book.
These oil-stained pages recount the tales of the Fallen,
a frayed empire, words without warmth. The hearth
has ebbed, its gleam and life's sparks are but memories
against dimming eyes - what cast my mind, what hue my
thoughts as I open the Book of the Fallen
and breathe deep the scent of history?
Listen, then, to these words carried on that breath.
These tales are the tales of us all, again yet again.
We are history relived and that is all, without end that is all.”
“Ben Adaephon Delat," Pearl said plaintively, "see the last who comes. You send me to my death."
"I know," Quick Ben whispered.
"Flee, then. I will hold them enough to ensure your escape no more."
Quick Ben sank down past the roof.
Before he passed from sight Pearl spoke again. "Ben Adaephon Delat, do you pity me?"
"Yes" he replied softly, then pivoted and dropped down into darkness.”
“Words are like coin—it pays to hoard."
"Until you die on a bed of gold," Paran said.”
“Shake your fist all you want but dead is dead.”
“Too many regrets. Lost chances—and with each one passing the less human we all became, and the deeper into the nightmare of power we all sank.”
“The Empress expects obedience of her servants, and demands loyalty.’ ‘Any reasonable ruler would have the expectation and the demand the other way round.”
“High house shadow, and a knife in the dark. A new game's begun, or the old one's just turned.”
“Self-righteous wrath had planted more corpses in the ground than an empire could lay claim to,”
“She'd seen them them all before, those faces. She knew them all, knew the sound of their voices, sounds mired in human emotions, sounds clear and pure with thought, and sounds wavering in that chasm between the two. Is this, she wondered, my legacy? And one day I'll be just one more of those faces, frozen in death and wonder.”
“Convergence,” Tool said. “Power ever draws other power.”
“Morality was not relative, they claimed, nor even existing solely in the realm of the human condition. No, they proclaimed morality as an imperative of all life, a natural law that was neither the brutal acts of beasts nor the lofty ambitions of humanity, but something other, something unassailable.”
“I hear Seven Cities natives grow fruit just so they can eat the larvae in them.”
“The curse of climbing is discovering how great the distance yet to climb.”
“What are gods, after all, if not the perfect victims?”
“I’m sure they were good men, the ones you lost.” “Good at dying,” he said.”
“Through the gamut of life we struggled for control, for a means to fashion the world around us, an eternal, hopeless hunt for the privilege of being able to predict the shape of our lives.”
“There are times, Kruppe murmurs, when celibacy born of sad deprivation becomes a boon, nay, a source of great relief.”
“«Such is the irony of life,» Kruppe proclaimed, raising one pastry-filled hand over his head, «that one learns to distrust the obvious, surrendering instead to insidious suspicion and confused conclusion. But, is Kruppe deceived? Can an eel swim? Hurrah, these seeming muddy waters are home to Kruppe, and his eyes are wide with wonder.»”
“Those whom the gods choose, ’tis said, they first separate from other mortals—by treachery, by stripping from you your spirit’s lifeblood. The gods will take all your loved ones, one by one, to their death. And, as you harden, as you become what they seek, the gods smile and nod. Each company you shun brings you closer to them. ’Tis the shaping of a tool, son, the prod and pull, and the final succour they offer you is to end your loneliness—the very isolation they helped you create.”
“long ago, there’d been choices he could have made that would have sent him on a different path. But those days were dead, and the future held only nights, a stretch of darkness that led down to the eternal dark. He would meet Vorcan, eventually, and he’d swear his life to the Guild Master, and that would be that, the closing of the final door. And his sense of outrage at the injustices around him, the corruptions of the world, would wither in the unlit tunnels beneath Darujhistan. In the exactness of the methods of assassination, his final victim would be himself.”
“The closest held secret is the one that never sours with age.”
“Rallick will kill you,” Murillio said levelly.
“Nonsense.” Kruppe placed the mask over his face. “How will the lad ever recognize Kruppe?”
Murillio studied the man’s round body, the faded red waistcoat, gathered cuffs, and the short oily curls atop his head. “Never mind.” He sighed.
“Excellent,” Kruppe said. “Now, please accept these two masks, gifts from your friend Kruppe. A trip is saved, and Baruk need not wait any longer for a secret message that must not be mentioned.” He replaced his mask in its box, then spun round to study the eastern skyline. “Off to yon alchemist’s abode, then. Good evening, friend—”
“Wait a minute,” Murillio said, grasping Kruppe’s arm and turning him round. “Have you seen Coll?”
“Why, of course. The man sleeps a deep, recovering sleep from his ordeals.’Twas healed magically, Sulty said. By some stranger, yet. Coll himself was brought in by yet a second stranger, who found a third stranger, who in turn brought a fifth stranger in the company of the stranger who healed Coll. And so it goes, friend Murillio. Strange doings, indeed. Now, Kruppe must be off. Goodbye, friend—”
“Not yet,” Murillio snarled. He glanced around. The street was still empty. He leaned close. “I’ve worked some things out, Kruppe. Circle Breaker contacting me put everything into order in my mind. I know who you are.”
“Aaai!” Kruppe cried, withdrawing. “I’ll not deny it, then! It’s true, Murillio, Kruppe is Lady Simtal connivingly disguised.”
“Now these ashes have grown cold, we open the old book. These oil-stained pages recount the tales of the Fallen, a frayed empire, words without warmth. The hearth has ebbed, its gleam and life’s sparks are but memories against dimming eyes – what cast my mind, what hue my thoughts as I open the Book of the Fallen and breathe deep the scent of history? Listen, then, to these words carried on that breath. These tales are the tales of us all, again yet again. We are history relived and that is all, without end that is all.”
“Do you recognize the Warren, Tool?”
“Warrens, Adjunct. Tellann, Thyr, Denul, D’riss, Tennes, Thelomen Toblakai, Starvald Demelain . . .”
“Starvald Demelain, what in Hood’s Name is that?”
“Elder.”
“I thought there were but three Elder Warrens, and that’s not one of them.”
“Three? No, there were many, Adjunct, all born of one. Starvald Demelain.”
“Play on, mortal. Every god falls at a mortal’s hands. Such is the only end to immortality.”
“Son, when you were born, you cried while the world rejoiced. Live your life in such a way that when you die the world cries while you rejoice.”
“Even a very small effect sometimes requires profound changes in our ideas”
“I feel rather drab and shy for a few minutes. But then I remember that I am old and nobody is looking at me.”
“I like to mix it up. Keep things interesting."
I don't say anything, because it sounds like something I'd say, and I don't like when people take my lines.”
“One sidelong glance at his dad and Ish walked back home. ‘Where the hell are you going now?’ Ish’s dad said. ‘Match. Why? You want to curse me some more?’ Ish said. ‘When you’ve wasted your entire life, what’s another day?’ Ish’s father said and the neighbours half-nodded their heads in sympathy. We missed the final five overs of the match. Luckily, India won and Ish didn’t get that upset. ‘Yes, yes, yes,’ Ishaan jumped. ‘Gopi on me tonight.’ I love idiots. Actually, Ishaan is not an idiot. At least not as much as Omi. It”
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