Luke rose to his feet. "I'm taking five minutes for some air. I'll be back. " He felt them watching him as he made his way to the front doorsall of them, even Amatis. Senhor Monteverde whispered something to his wife in Portuguese; Luke caught "lobo", the word for "wolf", in the stream of words. They probably think I'm going outside to run in circles and bark at the moon.

I stabbed you. With a massive sword. You caught on fire." His lips twitched, almost imperceptibly. "Okay, so maybe our problems aren't like other couples.

No good sentences ever include the word ‘should.’ I should have paid the tavern bill; now they’re coming to break my legs. I should never have run off with my best friend’s wife; now she devils me constantly. I should—

Looking for an entirely reliable informant is like looking for a chaste mistress.

Are you implying that shreds of my reputation remain intact?" Will demanded with mock horror. "Clearly I have been doing something wrong. Or not something wrong, as the case may be." He banged on the side of the carriage. "Thomas! We must away at once to the nearest brothel. I seek scandal and low companionship.

Oh, good. You're starting to talk about yourself in the third person. That's not a sign of impending megalomania or anything.

My ideas often come from strong mental images. When I'm observing some relatively ordinary thing, I'll think, "What if...." and out of that brainstorming a story emerges.