An ordinary archer practices until he gets it right. A ranger practices until he never gets it wrong.

After all, he did say you were the issue of an encounter between your father and a traeling hatcha-hatcha dancer." There was a gasp of horror from the crowd. Duncan, smiling thinly, said through gritted teeth: "Thank you so much for reminding us all, Anthony.

Get rid of their mast, knock holes in the hull, then get back on board." "You want us to sink her?" Gundar asked, and Halt shook his head. "No. I want her badly damaged but capable of making it back to port. I want the word to go out that the strange ship with the red falcon ensign"—he gestured to Evanlyn's ensign, flying from the mast top—"is manned by dangerous, hairy maniacs with axes and is to be avoided at all costs." "That sounds like us," Gundar said cheerfully.

You can always win points. Winning people’s respect is a lot more important.

The sun was trembling on the brink of the world, the shadows at their longest, and they still had several kilometers to go.

What was that, Kurokuma?' asked one of the escorts riding near him. The others chuckled at the name. 'Nothing important,' Horace said. Then he looked at them suspiciously. 'What's this Kurokuma business?' The Senshi looked at him with a completely staight face. 'It's a term of great respect,' he said. Several others within earshot nodded confirmation. They too managed to remain straight-faced. It was a skill the Nihon-Jan had perfected. 'Great respect,' one of them echoed.

What are you looking at, foreigner?” the guard demanded roughly. The smile was a little unsettling. A prisoner shouldn’t smile at his captors like that. “I’m just making sure I can remember you,” Gilan told him. “Never know when that might be useful.