The Devil and the Dark Water

Cleverness is a type of strength, and they won't accept a woman who's stronger than they are. Their pride won't allow it, and their pride is the thing they hold dearest.

Power should be a burden, not a shield. It should be used to everybody’s betterment, not merely for the person who wielded it.

Some songs weren’t mere songs. They were memories curled tight and set alight. They made you heartsick.

Questions are swords and answers are shields,” persisted Sammy, still staring at Sara. “I’m begging you, armor yourself.

Fear was too brittle a material to make good decisions from.

So this is how men go to the devil, he thought bitterly. Cap in hand and short of hope, all their prayers gone unanswered.

Her husband's damnable horse snorted, kicking the ground angrily as she approached. She'd never got along with this beast. Unlike her, it enjoyed being underneath him.

It's the curse of powerful men to heed only their own voices.

Are you keeping Sara out of trouble?” “I’m trying, but she seems terribly fond of it.

The weak shouldn't have to fear the powerful, and the powerful shouldn't be simply allowed to take what they wanted without consequence. Power should be a burden, not a shield. It should be used to everybody's betterment, not merely for the person who wielded it.

„Most men would say this isn’t women’s work.“ There was no mistaking the challenge in her tone. „My father was one of them“, admitted Arent. „He taught me that women were frail creatures purposely crippled by God that men might prove their virtue by protecting them. Sounded right enough. Until I went to war and saw men pleading for their lives while women swung hoes at the knights trying to take their land.“ His tone hardened. „Strong is strong and weak is weak. And it doesn’t matter if you wear breeches or skirts if you’re the latter. Life will hammer you flat.

That mark on the sail is how it starts. It's meant to scare us, because scared people will do anything to stop being scared and they'll do it to almost anybody else.

It hadn’t made any difference. The dowry was too large. Unbeknown to her, she’d been bred for sale and fattened like a calf with manners and education. She’d felt betrayed, but she’d been young. She understood the world better now. Meat didn’t get a say on whose hook it hung from.

Courage isn't an absence of fear', cried out Sara. 'It's the light we find when fear is all there is. You're needed now, so find your courage

The downtrodden yearned for stories to explain their misfortunes, though what they really wanted was somebody to blame for their misery.

You know what men are when there’s nobody ordering them to be better.

curiosity was ever her vice.

Ghosts are God's problem. The living must deal with me,' declared Sammy

Wealth was a key and poverty was a prison, and they’d been born shackled through no fault of their own.

The rich mistakenly believed their wealth was a servant, delivering them whatever they wanted. They were wrong. Wealth was their master, and it was the only voice they heeded. Friendships were sacrificed at its behest, principles trampled to protect it. No matter how much they had, it was never enough. They went mad chasing more until they sat lonely atop their hoard, despised and afraid. Arent had wanted more.

And you know, amid all this brocade, it doesn't even have pockets. Not one." She tugged at the material where the pockets should have been.

His proposal had been thorough, listing the benefits of their union to her father. In short, she’d have a beautiful cage and all the time in the world to admire herself in the bars.

There’s no glory except what the minstrels make up so the nobles can feel good about the slaughter they paid for. A soldier’s job is to end up dead far from home, fighting for a king who wouldn’t give them the crumbs from his table.

I don’t, and there’s a further cause for concern.” “Of course there is,” she sighed. “Why would concern want to travel alone?

Men were dangerous. They were fickle of mood, liable to lash out when disappointed, and they were frequently disappointed - most often by their own shortcomings, though only a fool would tell them as much.

You walk around in rags and yet it's your name that shames you?" "It isn't shame, Uncle," disagreed Arent. "That name runs ahead of me. It straightens crooked paths, and it's the crooked paths I wish to walk.

It was impossible to set fire to the blight that had ruined your crops, but a blight was easily summoned by a witch, at which point any poor woman would do.

Deference was something she was supposed to put on every morning, along with her cap and bodice.

Every word out of his mouth felt like it was being etched into history; every glance contained a subtle rebuke, an invitation for others to measure themselves against him and discover the ways in which they were wanting.