“By now, Gregor had recovered. "Sage? Devlin, forgive my accusation, but you are a fool. Don't you know who this is?"Devlin didn't appear to forgive the accusation. With a sneer on his face, he folded his arms and said, "Enlighten me."Gregor looked at me and frowned. "He can perform the Avenian accent as well as his own Carthyan tongue. And although he has a reputation for being able to steal the white off snow if he chooses to, this boy is far from being a mere thief. Devlin, you are facing the boy who has haunted the pirates for the past four years. This is Jaron, the lost prince of Carthya.”

“Is it true?" Devlin asked me. "You're Prince Jaron?""KING Jaron, actually. News must travel slower amongst the illiterate." I glared at Gregor with every inch of disdain I felt. "Shouldn't you be groveling to me or bowing or something?" Gregor smiled. "I think before I have the chance, you will already be dead.""Ah. So much for all your toasts to my long life.”

“This is for you." i pressed the stone in Kerwyn's hand.Kerwyn turned it over in his hands, unimpressed. "imatator's gold? It's worthless.""No, it's real gold. I am real Kerwyn."... He pulled a creased and worn paper from his pocket and unfolded it. His hands shook increasingly as he read it. Then he turned to the audience and said,"This note was given to me by King Eckbert ... to read it only if someone ever came forward claiming to be the prince. This is what it says." He read aloud,"'Many may one day claim to be the lost prince of Carthya. ...You will know the Prince Jaron by one sign alone. He will give you the humblest of rocks and tell you it's gold.'"..."Lords and ladies of Carthya, I present to you the son of King Eckbert and Queen Erin. He is the lost royal of Carthya, who lives and stands before you. Hail, Prince Jaron.”

“In all of eternity, no faery born has overcome me in anything.'Aaah. Pride goeth before the fall, my friend"--Irial stood and clasped Devlin's hand--"but you've already fallen, haven't you?'And to that, Devlin had no answer.”

“As miserable as Gregor felt about being dumped with a rat, his heart ached for Vikus. He wanted to scream at Luxa, "Say something! Don't let your granpa fly off like this! Four of us aren't coming back!" But the words caught in his throat. Part of him wasn't ready to forgive Vikus for abandoning them, either."Fly you high, Gregor the Overlander," said Vikus.Gregor struggled with how to respond. Should he ignore Vikus? Let him know that none of them, not even an Overlander, could forgive him? Just as he had steeled himself against replying, Gregor thought of the last two years, seven months, and was it fifteen days now? There were so many things he wished he'd said to his dad when he'd had the chance. Things like how special it was when they went on the roof at night and tried to find the stars. Or how much he loved it when they took the subway out to the stadium to watch a baseball game. Or just that he felt lucky that out of all the people in the world, his dad was his dad.He didn't have room inside him for any more unspoken words. The bats were rising into the air. He only had a second. "Fly you high, Vikus!" he yelled. "Fly you high!"Vikus turned back, and Gregor could see tears shining on his cheeks. He lifted up a hand to Gregor in thanks.And then they were gone.”

“He who has not been a stubborn accuser in prosperity should hold his peace in the face of ruin.”