Don't die on me," she whispered when the clock struck midnight and he still had not moved. "It's only a little shoulder wound. Goddess, George-don't die on me." His eyes flickered open and he smiled. "I didn't know you cared," he whispered. "And why insult me? I won't die for a wee nick like this; I've had worse in my day." Alanna wiped her wet cheeks. "Of course I care, you unprincipled pickpocket!" she whispered. "Of course I care.

Why do you look like cheese, Beka?" Nestor asked me quietly. "We've got help." I was too flummoxed to tell him I hadn't expected help to come so fast. Miracles aren't for the likes of me, didn't Nestor know that? Only the nobility gets them.

Lord Raoul asked me to tell you that if you get yourself killed, he will never speak to you again.

Daja doesn't exactly need to be tested on whether she's honorable or not." "Doesn't she? Don't all of you? This is your first taste of the things which may come from your being powerful mages. People will offer you gold, status, even love. I want to know how you will react. If want to know if your teachers will release greedy, thoughtless monsters into the world.

Just because I'm no jaw clacker doesn't mean there should be a ruction put up whenever I have sommat to say.

There is power and there is power, my dear. My power can be vast, in the right places.

free time is an illusion. It's what you get when you die and the gods reward you for a life spent working from dawn until midnight.