Every now and then I like to do as I'm told, just to confuse people.

Oakbridge did his work with dramatics and prophecies that all would go horribly awry. Having dealt with him over midwinter, Kel wondered why the man hadn’t died of a heart attack. Instead he seemed to thrive on disaster and finding people seated in the wrong places.

And if they don't believe us, I can give them the ghost eyes, you can go all big and threatening, Farmer can do his cracknob simpleton, and my lady can don her nobleness. We'll do all right.

If you've a story, make sure it's a whole one, with details close to hand. It's the difference between a good lie and getting caught.

Wouldn't--" Kel began to say, but the words stuck in her mouth. She swallowed and tried again. "Wouldn't it be well, not nice to flirt with somebody you don't want to fall in love with?

The tall thief rushed down the stairs and grabbed her, swinging her around as he laughed. "And I've been thinkin' you forgot me," he said, placing her on her feet once more. "Just look at you! Tan and fit and wearin' the clothes of a Bazhir-" Alanna looked up into his friendly hazel eyes and broke into tears.

I distrust any advice that contains the words 'ought' or 'should'.