Quotes from Hilari Bell

Man must look after man sicne no god watches out for us.

So truth created the ultimate lie. Was this what the world was like for wizards? This thorny, gray tangle where right and wrong were so mixed there was no telling them apart?

You can fool some of the people all of the time, and all of the people, some of the time, but you can fool yourself anytime you need to badly enough.

In his opinion, working was vastly overrated. Particularly as a way to build character, for everyone who engaged in it was far too snappish and fussy, and seemed to have no manners at all.

Today, salute, mile, serve, deep. And I am never doing that again.-Kavi

Fasal liked to fight; Jiaan was good at planning. Together, Jiaan thought sourly, they almost made a whole officer. And if you added Jiaan's eighteen years to Fasal's seventeen, you had someone old enough to command an army as well.

How do you know he's a friend? There might be a number of people looking for me." The creases around her eyes deepened. "I figure he's a friend, 'cause every now and then he calls,'Answer me, you stubborn son-of-a-bitch.

Coordinating the retreat was important too, so important that Jiaan had assigned Aram as Fasal's assistant, to be sure he didn't overlook anything important. Like the fact that they were supposed to retreat.

As if she had summoned them, a flurry of stones flew out of the darkness, striking his mail, pinging off his helm. One hit his unprotected leg and he yelped and clutched it. That was a mistake. The second barrage was entirely directed at his legs.

Cogswhallop glanced skeptically at the complex runes. "Are you sure this'll work, gen'ral?" "Of course I'm sure-" Ping. The silvery note echoed in the cramped room. Makenna felt her face turn scarlet.

It isn't a matter of how long, or even how much you know. It's a way of looking at things, how much you see and how you think. I suppose it's, well, perspective. . . When you start seein' five sides to a four-sided object, that's when you get the gray robe.

Fisk would take care of it.

The lingering laughter fled from his eyes as he realized that he'd given himself away. "Where's Fiddle now?" "Safe and cared for. Safer than you'll be if you don't answer my questions." Ping. He managed not to laugh, but it looked like a hard fight. "Dung," Makenna muttered. the knight's expression changed to startled disapproval. A prig, as he? Maybe she could use that. "I said you should let me handle this," Cogswhallop told her. "I'd have meant it.

Did the priest you mentioned tell you about them? Or did he send you out to blunder along on your own?They're an odd lot. Half of them are soldiers, or priests in disgui- Ah.Is your priest with them?" "No!" He snapped. Ping. He jumped. He'd forgotten the bell. "I mean, I don't know". Ping. "There is no particular priest."Ping. He bit his lip and fell silent.

So truth created the ultimate lie. Was this what the world was like for wizards? This thorny, gray tangle where right and wrong were so mixed there was no telling them apart?

crazy people must have an advantage when it comes to doing crazy things.

I never thought honor would feel like betrayal.

Man must look after man sicne no god watches out for us.

And you are going to close the gates, because I told you to close the gates.

I do give them to you," he announced. "Of my free will. Because this is my sword." He laid a hand on Arisa's shoulder. "And Weasle is my shield. What you hold are only pieces of iron.

For better or worse, she was the lady Soraya. And the lady Soraya would never dream of missing the warm bulk of Casia's body between her and the hearth, or the comforting drone of Ludo's snores. Or the wry laughter of a slave... a slave, for Azura's sake! The lady Soraya needed no one. The lady Soraya cried herself to sleep.

I hadn't been hanging around a knight errant for three years without learning that impossible things can happen, if you're willing to throw common sense in the air and try .

Could he possibly believe a purple tunic over a butler- yellow shirt and scarlet pants became him.

To say it was a dark and stormy night would be a gross understatement. It was colder than witch's kiss, wetter than a spring swamp, and blacker than a tax collector's heart. A sane man would have been curled up in front of a fire with a cup of mulled wine and a good boo-, ah, a willing wench.