Semper Fidelis

The Empress Sabina had long ago formed her own theory about the nonsense in travel books. No traveler, having gone to the expense and trouble of venturing where most civilized people were too sensible to go, was going to come home and admit that it had been a waste of time. Instead, he had to pronounce his destination to be full of strange wonders, like the elk with no knees that could be caught by sabotaging the tree against which it leaned when it slept (Julius Caesar) or the men from India who could wrap themselves in their own ears (reported by the elder Pliny, who seemed to have written down everything he was ever told), or the blue-skinned Britons (Julius Caesar again). Strangely, no traveler had ever brought one of these creatures home for inspection. Doubtless they were impossible to capture, or died on the journey, or the blue came off in the wash.

That was one of the bad things about being able to read: people could nag you from a great distance.

But how can an ordinary girl not know this? Had Varana's mother not bothered to teach her anything at all or just shouted complaints from a distance while her children fought and argued amongst themselves like wolf cubs?

But, when she was alone, someone rapped on the door and she found herself on her feet, knife in hand, before she had time to reason with her fear.

Talking with this girl is like trying to catch fleas, you never know which way she was going to jump.

And leave me alone when I tell ya to. I will have things to do that are private. I cannot always have you trailing around with me like a strand of goose grass.

They had run out of words.... Then he and the Lamp were gone.... Ruse swallowed hard and then began counting bones again in the dark. Then when he reached the right elbow he stopped, and started counting suspects.

He tried the diversion of reciting all the bones in the body, working down the left side, down to the toes and then back up. Each toe and finger separately, just to waste time. He lost his place somewhere on the right hand.

There's no good in moping girl, there's work to be done... Have you forgotten, nobody likes a person who feels sorry for herself.

[regarding the sacrifice] It was all very professionally done, even to a man whose religion consisted mostly of half formed and unanswered questions, it was strangely reassuring.

Sparrows and pigeons and a blackbird were celebrating the morning in the courtyard.

You can't do anything with a man whose mind is gone.