“A shrill whistle scratched out of the dank cloud surrounding him. A second soon followed.„Two freighters are doing a whistle pass,“ Betty said behind him. „Is that how you intend to leave this, Gabriel? You and Mr. Harris were but two lonely hearts conducting a whistle pass through the fog of your lives?”

“I had to ask the burning question as we walked to the door. "How's it feel to throw a man off a building twenty stories up?""Good. Kind of liberating actually. Educational too. I never knew a man could scream so loud. Or so long.”

“Your dad's not dead." I winced. "In fact, isn't he some kind of big-shot union labor guy?" He nodded. "Yup. That's who they called. Dad confirmed he died this morning.”

“If she’s out here and not locked up in the barracks, I’ll know,” he said. He took a deep breath and whistled.“You share a whistle?” Trevanion said in disbelief.“Do you have a problem with that?” Finnikin asked.“I have a few whistles,” Lucian murmured. “Very confusing sometimes.”“Whistles are meant for combat,” Trevanion said. “Not wooing women. Women do not understand whistles.”

“When you want to wet your whistle,drink water that is clean as a whistle.”

“Alban’s eyes widened, palpable shock rolling off him. “Daisani’s assistant? That Vanessa Gray?” “That one.” Alban whistled, a long high sound of wind howling through stone, and Margrit looked at him in surprise. “You can whistle?” His eyebrows wrinkled. “Can’t you?” “Of course, but it’s so frivolous. You’re sort of stolid. I wouldn’t have thought whistling was in a gargoyle’s nature.” Alban chuckled. “I don’t do it often.”

“Discourse on virtue and they pass by in droves. Whistle and dance and shimmy, and you've got an audience!”