We are all of us, gods and mortals, made up of many pieces, some of them broken, some of them scarred, but none of them the total sum of who we are.

He does not start guiltily, as he should, but frowns in annoyance. "Who are you?" I slip my hand through the slit of my overskirt, and my fingers close around the hard wood of the crossbow tiller. "Vengeance," I say softly.

I am left with the conviction that an avalanche would be easier to dissuade than that man.

Tis Vanth's cage. You can just move it out of the way." "I already have," he grumbles. "With my shin.

The pain of hope dying is worse than his fists and boots.

He barks out a laugh. "My little rebel.

I pause at the door, wishing I could find a corner and sleep until my head clears, but the sailor said the abbess is expecting me, and while I do not know much about abbesses, I suspect they are not fond of waiting.