The Seeress of Kell

Consistency is the defense of a small mind

It's one of the advantages of being a woman. I get to do all sorts of unfair things, and you have to accept them because you're too polite not to. --Polgara

We're all entitled to a little stupidity now and then. --Beldin

Will you never grow up?" "I doubt it, and I certainly hope not.

Oh, well," Silk said wryly, "we might as well get it out into the open, I suppose. Gentlemen," he said, "I'm sure you all remember the Margravine Liselle, my fiancee." "Your fiancee?" Barak exclaimed in amazement. "We all have to settle down sometime." Silk shrugged. They all gathered around to congratulate him. Velvet, however, did not look pleased. "Was something the matter, dear?" Silk asked her, all innocence. "Don't you think you've forgotten something, Kheldar?" she asked acidly. "Not that I recall." "You neglected to ask me about this first." "Really? Did I actually forget that? You weren't planning to refuse, were you?" "Of course not." "Well, then --" "You haven't heard the last of this, Kheldar," she said ominously. "I seem to be getting off to a bad start here," he observed. "Very bad," she agreed.

Don't wrench your shoulder out of its socket trying to pat yourself on the back," Beldin said sourly.

What happened to your foot?" "I had a little disagreement with an eagle --stupid birds, eagles. He couldn't tell the difference between a hawk and a pigeon. I had to educate him. He bit me while I was tearing out a sizable number of his wing feathers." "Uncle," Polgara said reproachfully. "He started it.

Heroes aren't allowed to be nervous." "Who made up that rule?" "It's a known fact...

I'm hungry, Garion, and I don't think well when I'm hungry." "That might explain a lot," Beldin noted blandly. "We should have fed you more often when you were younger." "You can be terribly offensive sometimes, do you know that?" "Why, yes, as a matter of fact I do.

Mimbrates are the bravest people in the world --probably because they don't have brains enough to be afraid of anything. Garion's friend Mandorallen is totally convinced that he's invincible." "He is," Ce'Nedra said in automatic defense of her knight. "I saw him kill a lion once with his bare hands." "...I heard him suggest to Barak and Hettar once that the three of them attack an entire Tolnedran legion." "Perhaps he was joking." "Mimbrate knights don't know how to joke," Silk told him. "I will not sit here and listen to you people insult my knight," Ce'Nedra said hotly. "We'renot insulting hi, Ce'Nedra," Silk told her. "We're describing him. He's so noble he makes my hair hurt." "Nobility is an alien concept to a Drasnian, I suppose," she noted. "Not alien, Ce'Nedra. Incomprehensible.

Zakath's face grew thoughtful. "You know something, Garion?" he said. "Man thinks he owns the world, but we share it with all sorts of creatures who are indifferent to our overlordship. They have their own societies, and I supposed even their own cultures. They don't even pay attention to us, do you?" "Only when we inconvenience them...It teaches us humility," Garion agreed.

I could insist that somebody take me to her so I can obey her orders." "I think you might choke on that one, Zakath," Silk said lightly. "Obey is a difficult concept for someone in your position." "He's an irritating little fellow, isn't he?" Zakath said to Garion. "I've noticed." "Why, your Majesties," Velvet said, all wide-eyed innocence, "what a thing to suggest." "Well, isn't he?" Zakath said pointedly. "Of course, but it's not nice to talk about it." Silk looked slightly offended. "Would you people like for me to go away so you can talk freely?" "Oh, that won't be necessary, Kheldar," Velvet said with a dimpled smile.

Vella looked around. "This is really a revolting place, Yarblek," she told him. "You've been spending too much time with Porenn," he said. "You're starting to get delicate." "How would you like to have me gut you?" she offered. "That's my girl.

Durnik needs a tower somewhere in the Vale," Belgarath was saying. "I don't see why, father," Polgara replied. "All of Aldur's disciples have towers, Pol. It's the custom." "Old customs persist --even when there's no longer any need for them." "He's going to need to study, Pol. How can he possibly study with you underfoot all the time?" She gave him a long, chilly stare. "Maybe I should rephrase that.

I note this hound of thine, Sir Knight," he said to Garion to ease them past an embarrassing moment, "a bitch, I perceive--" "Steady," Garion said firmly to the she-wolf. "That is a very offensive term," she growled. "He didn't invent it. It's not his fault." "...Canst thou perhaps, Sir Knight, identify her breed?" "She is a wolf, my Lord," Garion told him. "A wolf!" the baron exclaimed, leaping to his feet. "We must flee ere the fearsome beast fall upon us and devour us." It was a bit ostentatious, but sometimes thing like that impress people. Garion reached down and scratched the wolf's ears. "...Ones advises that you stop that," the wolf told him, "unless you have a paw to spare." "You wouldn't!" he exclaimed, snatching his hand back. "But you're not entirely sure, are you?" She bared her teeth almost in a grin.

I'm truly amazed at you, Garion," Polgara said. "I didn't think you had the faintest idea of how to speak a civilized language." "Thank you," he said, "I think.

...I made some more threats. I've got this big knife back here." He poked his thumb over his shoulder. "It attracts a lot of attention sometimes.

Small female children. They're devious, but they're prettier than sons, and they smell better." (The Spirit of the Prophecy to Garion)