“Besides—only people from Arelon are taken by the Shaod. It an take Teoish people, but only if they're living in Arelon at the time. Oh, and it takes the occasional Dula as well.""I hadn't noticed.”

“I'm from southern Arelon, Princess," Ahan said, reaching for some more clams. "To us, round is beautiful. Not everyone wants their women to look like starving schoolboys.”

“Those who take lightly promises they make to those they love are people who find little lasting satisfaction in life. This is not an easy time in which to live. That does not mean that it has to be a difficult time to love, but it does mean that you will find unusual stresses upon your lives and your relationship.”

“There are two kinds of people in this world, son. Those who save lives, and those who take lives.""And what of those who protect and defend? Those who save lives by taking lives?""That's like trying to stop a storm by blowing harder. Ridiculous. You can't protect by killing.”

“Raoden regarded himself in a small piece of polished steel. His shirt was yellow dyed with blue stripes, his trousers were bright red, and his vest a sickly green. Over all, he looked like some kind of confused tropical bird. His only consolation was that as silly he looked, Galladon was much worse.The large, dark-skinned Dula looked down at his pink and light green clothing with a resigned expression."Don't look so sour, Galladon." Raoden said with a laugh. "Aren't you Dulas supposed to be fond of garish clothing?“ "That's the aristocracy—the citizens and republicans. I'm a farmer; pink isn't exactly what I consider a flattering color."Then he looked up at Raoden with narrow eyes. "If you make even one comment about my resembling a kathari fruit, I will take off this tunic and hang you with it."Raoden chuckled. "Someday I'm going to find that scholar who told me all Dulas were even-tempered, then force him to spend a week locked in a room with you, my friend.”

“What I'm trying to say is that you don't understand a man until you understand what makes him do what he does. Every man is a hero in his own story, Princess. Murderers don't believe that they're to blame for what they do. Thieves, they think they deserve the money they take. Dictators, they believe they have the right—for the safety of their people and the good of the nation—to do whatever they wish. . . . The truth is, most people who do what you'd call "wrong" do it for what they call "right" reasons. Only mercenaries make any sense. We do what we're paid to do. That's it. Perhaps that's why people look down on us so. We're the only ones who don't pretend to have higher motives. . . In a way, we're the most honest men you'll ever meet.”

“I'm Teoish," Sarene said, successfully spearing something that looked like a marinated piece of shrimp. "We're all this tall.""Father's Teoish too, Kaise," Daorn said. "And you know how tall he is.""But father's fat," Kaise pointed out. "Why aren't you fat too, Sarene?”