I am not sure I trust you." "You can trust me with your life, My King." "But not with my wine, obviously. Give it back.

He whines, he complains, he ducks out of the most obvious responsibility. He is vain, petty and maddening, but he doesn't ever quit.

I wanted Ambiades to understand that I considered myself a hierarchy of one.

She's like a prisoner inside stone walls, and every day the walls get a little thicker, the doorways a little narrower.

A thief never makes a noise by accident.

Are you badly hurt?" "Hideously," said the king, without sounding injured at all. "I am disemboweled. My insides may in an instant become my outsides as I stand here before you.

The gossip will carry to Attolian spies, who will report to Relius, Attolia's master of spies, and he will carry the news to her." "Her secretary of the archives," murmured the magus. "Hmm?" asked the queen. "Secretary of the archives, Relius. Master of spies is so-" "Accurate?" "Overtly direct," said the magus. Eddis laughed.