The rabbis paled. I’d managed to terrify holy men. Maybe I could beat up a nun for an encore.

...they tended towards the simple pleasures in life: drinking, whoring and fighting, preferably all three at once.

It was the kind of sword that would make a lifelong pacifist look for tall boots and a hat with feathers.

It was the kind of place you went when your earthly troubles became too much for you and you were looking for a creative way to commit suicide.

The monster licked his lips, long lines of whiskers twitching, and spoke in a deep growl. "Pretty, aren't I?" Curran. In midform. I broke from his gaze. "Adorable.

Congratulations," he said, his voice dry. "You finally managed to find a woman as tragically noble as yourself. I didn't think one existed." "I'm not tragic." Kaldar held up his hand. "Spare me. Some children are born wearing a silk shirt; you were born wrapped in melancholy. When they slapped you to make you cry, you just sighed heavily and a single tear rolled from your eye." He dragged his finger from the corner of his left eye to his cheek. " Your first words were probably 'woe is me.'" "My first words were 'Kaldar, shut up!' because you talked too much. Still do.

As one, the shapechangers turned and looked at me. I wondered what they'd do if I asked to borrow a cup of sugar.