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827 pages, Paperback
First published September 1, 1990
“You people never cry enough… Uncried tears remain inside you, like poison.”
“The most brilliant moves within the Game of Council were those that came without warning. The tranquil passage of days only made her skin creep, as if assassins lurked in hiding at her back.”
“Love by itself is the healer, not honour, not need, not duty.”
“Those who cling to tradition blindly, or out of fear of change, are fools.”
“You always warned me that love was a tangle. I never understood until now just how much of one, and how many were the thorns.”
“Battles did not always go as intended; the brilliant man, the master tactician, was the one who could turn setbacks to advantage.”
“That you have lived as you have lived for centuries is no license for this cruelty. All here are now judged, and all are found wanting.”
“The common folk are never caught up in the affairs of the powerful – unless they have the misfortune to find themselves in the way. Then they die. Otherwise, their lives go on, each day of work like the next.”
‘Tell me how servants treat their mistresses in the lands where you were born,’ she demanded.
The barbarian returned a provocative smile. His eyes wandered boldly over Mara’s body, which was covered only by an almost transparent silk robe. ‘To begin with,’ he said brightly, ‘any lady who wore what you do in front of her servants would be begging to get herself …’ He struggled for a word, then said, ‘In my language it’s not a polite term. I don’t know how you folks feel about it, but given you’re showing me all you’ve got without a thought, you obviously don’t consider such things.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Mara snapped, at the edge of her patience.
‘Why …’ He touched himself upon his dirty loincloth, then made an upward gesture with his extended forefinger. ‘What men and woman do, to make babies.’ He pointed in the general direction of her groin.