I'm just a little cold," said Knife, pulling the blanket closer about her shoulders.
Paul wrapped his free arm around her. "It's all right," he said. "I've got you."
"Yes," said Knife, smiling up at him. "You have.

Reluctantly she lifted her eyes to his, and he went on: "I want you to understand this as though I were one of your own people." He drew in a deep breath. "Thank you. Thank you for your friendship. Thank you for my life.

I do not desire evil, Garan had said to her once, but it seems to me that to stand idle while evil is being done is no virtue either.

But have a care! It is a bitter blade, and steel serves only those that can wield it. It will cut your hand as willingly as aught else.

There'll be no more music, Father. But there'll be this!" He stepped into the dark, picked up the knife, and held it under their noses.

"Go home. Tell your people what you saw and heard here tonight. And tell 'em that anyone we catch on these roads after dark anymore... this is what they'll get. Now that I know we're never to see the face o' God, we have nothing to lose. So, make sure you have your message right, Father, 'cause there'll be no other warning.

A man can own a woman or a man can own a knife, but no man can own both.