“Always expect trouble in the desert. Then you usually won't meet it.”

“He waited while Gilan and Will moved the cloaks experimentally, eyeing each other and studying the unusual colors, seeing how they would blend into the landscape of rock and desert that surrounded Al Shabah.All right, ladies," he said, "if you're finished with the fashion show, let's go meet the Wakir.”

“Always expect something to go wrong," he told him. "Believe me, if you're wrong, you're not dissapointed. If you're right, you're ready for it.”

“Remember no one expects you to be Halt. He's a legend, after all. Haven't you heard? He's eight feet tall and kills bears with his bare hands...”

“You're apprentice Rangers,' he said. 'And the important word there is "Rangers".' He tapped the silver oaklead amulet around his neck. 'As a wearer of the Silver Oakleaf, I might expect obedience and some level of difference from you. But I do not expect you to call me sir. My name is Will and that's what you call me. You'd call my friend Gilan and my former master Halt, if he were here. That's the Ranger's way.”

“What do you mean, Araluen? Death?"Halt made a careless gesture. "The usual, I suppose: the sudden cessation of life. The end of it all. Departure for a happier place. Or oblivion, depending upon your personal beliefs.”

“Once you best a man, never gloat. Be generous and find something in his actions to praise. He won't enjoy being bested, but he'll make a good face of it. Show him you appreciate it. Praise can win you a friend. Gloating will only ever make enemies.”