Death has his favorites, like anyone. Those who are beloved of Death will not die.

He wondered whether growing up was learning that most stories turned out to be lies.

I'm the best kind of thief, the kind that leaves behind items equal in value to those he's stolen.

I'm a powerful being... a wizard," Corny said. "So don't try anything." "Yes," said the little faery, blinking black eyes rapidly. "No. Try nothing.

I'm afraid that whatever I touch is spoilt by the contact." "I'm not scared of being spoiled," Val said.

It's starting to sink in," Corny said. "I can almost look at you without wanting to bang my head against the wall.

A mortal had woven it, a man who, having caught sight of the Seelie queen, had spent the remainder of his short life weaving depictions of her. He had died of starvation, raw, red fingers staining the final tapestry.