Stealing swords,” Royce muttered mostly to himself. “Okay, let’s take a look at this tower. The sooner I see it, the sooner I can start cursing.

And I wish to thank you as well, Royce." He was puzzled. "For what?" "For reminding me that anyone, no matter what they've done, can find redemption if they seek it.

You don’t win battles with hate. Anger and hate can make you brave, make you strong, but they also make you stupid. You end up tripping over your own two feet.

A—ris—ta?” Degan asked, sounding horse. “What is it?” “A rat bit me,” she said, once again shocked by her own rasping voice. “Jasper does that if—” Gaunt coughed and hacked. After a moment, he spoke again. “If he thinks you’re dead or too weak to fight.” “Jasper?” “I call him that, but I’ve also named the stones in my cell.” “I only counted mine,” Arista said. “Two hundred and thirty-four,” Degan replied instantly. “I have two hundred and twenty-eight.” “Did you count the cracked ones as two?” “No.

You’re too visible, Albert,” Hadrian explained. “Can’t afford to have our favorite noble hauled to some dungeon where they cut off your eyelids or pull off your fingernails until you tell them what we’re up to.” “But if they torture me, and I don’t know the plan, how will I save myself?” “I’m sure they’ll believe you after the fourth nail or so,” Royce said with a wicked grin.

You think you’re a very clever fellow, don’t you?” Saldur challenged. “No, Your Grace,” Merrick replied. “Clever is the man who makes a fortune selling dried-up cows, explaining how it saves the farmers the trouble of getting up every morning to milk them. I’m not clever—I’m a genius.

It was a trap after all,” Alric said. He turned to Royce. “My apologies for doubting your sound paranoia.