“What can a soldier do when mercy is treason, and he is alone in it?”

“...I crave a shawl."He was tense with anger but his hands remained gentle at her waist. He said, "I can make you a shawl."She cocked her head. "You knit? Well. That's an unusual accomplishment in a soldier.”

“These soldiers had done what they had done, and been done unto in return. This was how it went.In the cycle of slaughter, reprisal begat reprisal, forever.”

“You have only to begin, Lir. Mercy breeds mercy as slaughter breeds slaughter. We can’t expect the world to be better than we make it.”

“What are we fighting for? What are we killing for? What do you see when you look into the future?”

“But Hazael only said, "I brought you a present."Liraz took the flower, looked at it, and then a Hazael, expressionless. And then she ate it. She chewed the flower and swallowed it."Hmm," said Hazael. "Not the usual response.""Oh, do you give flowers often?""Yes," he said. He probably did. Hazael had a way of enjoying life in spite of the many restrictions they lived under, being soldiers, and worse, being Misbegotten. "I hope it wasn't poisonous," he said lightly.Liraz just shrugged. "There are worse ways to die.”

“Magic?" Akiva had asked. "What bird does this come from, that its bone are made of magic?""Oh, it's not magic. The wishes don't really come true.""Then why do it?"She shrugged. "Hope? Hope can be a powerful force. Maybe there's no actual magic in it, but when you know what you hope for most and hold it like a light within you, you can make things happen, almost like magic.”