The High Lord

So what were you [Sonea] and Dorrien discussing before?' Akkarin asked. She turned to regard him. 'Discussing?' 'Outside the farmhouse when I was buying the food.' 'Oh. Then. Nothing.' He smiled and nodded. 'Nothing. Amazing subject, that one. Produces such fascinating reactions in people.

Akkarin: I watched the first woman I loved die. I dont think I can survive losing the second. Sonea: I love you too.

He had given her too much. He had given her everything.

Great. She shook her head. Not only am I having conversations with myself, but now I'm refusing to talk to me. This has got to be the first sign of madness.

Cery: So, Hem, tell me why I shouldn't see how many holes I need to make before you start leaking money?

It was impossible to imagine the aloof, dignified, powerful High Lord living as, of all things, a slave.

It was a day-by-day record of a Guild much younger and smaller than the current one. After several pages, she had grown fond of the record-keeper, who clearly admired the people he was writing about.

No solo mantengo conversaciones conmigo misma, sino que me niego a hablar conmigo. Deben de ser los primeros síntomas de la locura.

But as I witnessed what Dakova was capable of, I cared less about what the Guild did and didn't allow. He did not need black magic to perform evil. I saw him do things with his bare hands that I will never forget.