It was strange, how easily and quickly protection could cause destruction. Sometimes, Vasher wondered if the two weren't really the same thing. Protect a flower, destroy pests who wanted to feed on it. Protect a building, destroy the plants that could have grown in the soil. Protect a man. Live with the destruction he creates.

Ruin still used Reen's voice-it was familiar, something that had always seemed a part of her. Discovering that it belonged to that thing...it was like finding out that her reflection really belonged to someone else, and that she'd never actually seen herself.

You're a mean old man, Your Grace." "And that is the way it should be." Roial informed. "Mean young men are trivial, and kindly old men boring. Here, let me get us something to drink.

Everyone is either happy or dead.

But you can't kill me, Lord Tyrant. I represent that one thing you've never been able to kill, no matter how hard you try. I am hope.

Does one deserve to have evil done to her by consequence of putting herself where evil can reach her?

You see, that is the sad, sorry, terrible thing about sarcasm. It's really funny.