One heart cannot serve two masters.

God's Teeth,' he says. 'I was only trying to wake you. You were crying out in your sleep.' 'I was not,' I say, then look from his neck to my knife. 'When I tried to wake you, you stabbed me.' He sounds sore put out. and I cannot blame him.

Perhaps that is because you mistake death for justice, and they are not the same thing at all.

Truly, we are the gods' own children, forged in the fire of our tortured pasts, but also blessed with unimaginable gifts.

Do you need anything before I go? I want you to return my wits, I long to say.

He smiles then, and even though it is well past midnight, its as if the sun has just come out.

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