Long has black powder been in the hands of dwarves alone.
Alas, winds ever change and nothing remains the same forever.

Lord Arrlo Salkeld

When his dead father touched his hand, Athson almost dropped the arrow.

Man, Sub-creator, the refracted Light
through whom is splintered from a single White
to many hues, and endlessly combined
in living shapes that move from mind to mind.

I now wondered if the lullaby of death was not a lovely song, but the droning of flies. If flies and maggots were all Death's handmaidens.

My eyes burned, and I blinked as I faced the books. "And I suppose," I said with an effort at lightness, "That it's a miracle I can actually read these things."
Rhys's answering smile was lovely - and just a bit wicked. "I believe my little lessons helped."
"Yes, 'Rhys is the greatest lover a female can hope for' is undoubtedly how I learned to read."
"I was only trying to tell you what you now know.

The Nephelle Philosophy