I do not know whom I wish to win; until I do, I will let no player be eliminated.

THE HEIR OF NIGHT by Helen Lowe is a richly told tale of strange magic, dark treachery and conflicting loyalties, set in a well realized world.

Sometimes it seemed to me a cruelty that so much was unresolved between us; at other times, a blessing that a hope of reunion lingered.

Her stillness was such a contrast to all the jumbled communication inside me that I suddenly felt what a tiresome fellow I was, always filling the air with the rattle of words and anxieties.

I feared my own kind more than anything the natural world could ever threaten me with.

Most prisons are of our own making. A man makes his own freedom, too.

You can be the dead fish. I'll be the old stick