What do you think?
Rate this book
843 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published September 1, 2000
“Children are dying."
Lull nodded. "That's a succinct summary of humankind, I'd say. Who needs tomes and volumes of history? Children are dying. The injustices of the world hide in those three words.”
“It is one thing to lead by example with half a dozen soldiers at your back. It is wholly another with ten thousand.”
“The lesson of history is that no one learns.”
Kalem's laugh rumbled from where he sat at the tiller. "Fiddler and water don't mix, lad. Look at him, he's greener than that damned monkey of yours"
A sympathetic snuffling sound breathed against Fiddler's cheek. He pried open one bloodshot eye to find a tiny, wizened face staring at him. "Go away, Moby," Fiddler croaked
Fiddler scrambled to the stern, crouching down beside Kalem. The assassin straightened to face the dhenrabi, one hand on the tiller. "Soletaken! Be on your way--we care nothing for your passage!"
I shall be merciful when killing you. The creature rushed the barque from directly astern, cutting through the water like a sharp-hulled ship. It's jaws opened wide.
"You were warned," Fiddler said as he raised the crossbow, aimed and fired. The quarrel sped for the beast's open mouth. Lightening fast, the dhenrabi snapped at the shaft, its thin, saw-edged teeth slicing through the quarrel and shattering the clay ball, releasing to the air the powdery mixture within the ball. The contact resulted in an instantaneous explosion that blew the Soletaken's head apart
Fiddler shrugged. "So . . . nothing. Just that." He spat again over the side and slumped down. "The excitement made me forget my seasickness. Now the excitement's faded, dammit."😂
"We are all lone souls. It pays to know humility, lest the delusion of control, of mastery, overwhelms. And, indeed, we seem a species prone to that delusion, again and ever again."
"We are not simple creatures. You dream that with memories will come knowledge, and from knowledge, understanding. But for every answer you find, a thousand new questions arise. All that we are has lead us to where we are, but tells us little of where we're going. Memories are a weight you can never shrug off."
Icarium, oh, dear friend, I can tell you nothing. My curse is silence to your every question, and the hand I offer as a brother will lead you only into deceit. In love's name, I do this, at my own cost... and such a cost.
The Chain of Dogs. Coltaine’s Chain of Dogs. He leads, yet is led, he strains forward, yet is held back, he bares his fangs, yet what nips at his heels if not those he is sworn to protect.
I’ll never return to the List of the Fallen, because I see now that the unnamed soldier is a gift. The named soldier – dead, melted wax – demands a response among the living.. a response no-one can make. Names are no comfort, they’re a call to answer the unanswerable. Why did she die, not him? Why do the survivors remain anonymous – as if cursed – while the dead are revered? Why do we cling to what we lose while we ignore what we still hold?
Name none of the fallen, for they stood in our place and stand there still in each moment of our lives. Let my death hold no glory, and let me die forgotten and unknown. Let it not be said that I was one among the dead to accuse the living.
'If you promote us, sir, I will punch you in what's left of your face. And Stormy will likely kick you while you're down. Sir.' Gesler then smiled. Bult pushed past Lull and stood face to face with the corporal, their noses almost touching. 'And, Corporal,' the commander hissed, 'would you punch me as well?'
Gesler's smile did not waver. 'Yes, sir. And Hood take me, I'll give the Fist's crack-thong a yank too, if you ask sweetly.'
There was a moment of dead silence.
Coltaine burst out laughing. The shock of it brought Duiker and the others around to stare at the Wickan.
Coltaine's laughter set the dogs to wild howling, the animals suddenly close and swarming about like pallid ghosts.
Animated for the first time and still laughing, Coltaine spun to the corporal. 'And what would Cartheron Crust have said to that, soldier?'
'He'd have punched me in the n...'
Gesler got no further as Coltaine's fist lashed out and caught the corporal flush on the nose.
The historian, now witness, stumbling in the illusion that he will survive. Long enough to set the details down on parchment in the frail belief that truth is a worthwhile cause. That the tale will become a lesson heeded. Frail belief? Outright lie, a delusion of the worst sort. The lesson of history is that no one learns.
“A question asked of modest me? Excuses and apologies admittedly insincere. Vast and intricate mind wanders on occasion. Your query?” He ducked his head, smiled into the shadows. “Are they deceived? Subtle truths, vague hints, a chance choice of words in unmindful echo? They know not. Bask in their awe with all wide-eyed innocence, oh, this is exquisite!”
“Children are dying.” Lull nodded. “That’s a succinct summary of humankind, I’d say. Who needs tomes and volumes of history? Children are dying. The injustices of the world hide in those three words. Quote me, Duiker, and your work’s done.”
“The lesson of history is that no one learns.”