“He hesitated, then lifted his head and sniffed. “Have you been drinking?” The question was more curious than accusatory. “No,” Bast said. The innkeeper raised an eyebrow. “I’ve been tasting,” Bast said, emphasizing the word. “Tasting comes before drinking.”

“Ah,' the innkeeper said. 'So you were getting ready to drink then?''Tiny Gods, yes,' Bast said. 'To great excess. What the hell else is there to do?”

“Ugh," he said after a few swallows. "Dead blood." Jace's eyebrows went up. " Isn't all blood dead?" "The longer the animal whose blood I'm drinking has been dead, the worse the blood tastes," Simon explained. "Fresh is better." "But you've never drunk fresh blood. Have you?" Simon raised his own eyebrows in response. "Well, aside from mine, of course," Jace said. "And I'm sure my blood is fan-tastic.”

“Never be ashamed,’ he said. ‘Accept what life offers you and try to drink from every cup. All wines should be tasted; some should only be sipped, but with others, drink the whole bottle.’‘How will I know which is which?’‘By the taste. You can only know a good wine if you have first tasted a bad one.”

“I tend to think too much, Bast. My greatest successes came from decisions I made when I stopped thinking and simply did what felt right. Even if there was no good explanation for what I did." He smiled wistfully. "Even if there were very good reasons for me not to do what I did."Bast ran a hand along the side of his face. "So you're trying to avoid second-guessing yourself?"Kote hesitated. "You could say that," he admitted. "I could say that, Reshi," Bast said smugly. "You, on the other hand, would complicate things needlessly.”

“Chronicler shook his head and Bast gave a frustrated sigh. "How about plays? Have you seen The Ghost and the Goosegirl or The Ha'penny King?"Chronicler frowned. "Is that the one where the king sells his crown to an orphan boy?"Bast nodded. "And the boy becomes a better king than the original. The goosegirl dresses like a countess and everyone is stunned by her grace and charm." He hesitated, struggling to find the words he wanted. "You see, there's a fundamental connection between seeming and being. Every Fae child knows this, but you mortals never seem to see. We understand how dangerous a mask can be. We all become what we pretend to be."Chronicler relaxed a bit, sensing familiar ground. "That's basic psychology. You dress a beggar in fine clothes, people treat him like a noble, and he lives up to their expectations.""That's only the smallest piece of it," Bast said. "The truth is deeper than that. It's..." Bast floundered for a moment. "It's like everyone tells a story about themselves inside their own head. Always. All the time. That story makes you what you are. We build ourselves out of that story."Frowning, Chronicler opened his mouth, but Bast held up a hand to stop him. "No, listen. I've got it now. You meet a girl: shy, unassuming. If you tell her she's beautiful, she'll think you're sweet, but she won't believe you. She knows that beauty lies in your beholding." Bast gave a grudging shrug. "And sometimes that's enough."His eyes brightened. "But there's a better way. You show her she is beautiful. You make mirrors of your eyes, prayers of your hands against her body. It is hard, very hard, but when she truly believes you..." Bast gestured excitedly. "Suddenly the story she tells herself in her own head changes. She transforms. She isn't seen as beautiful. She is beautiful, seen.""What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Chronicler snapped. "You're just spouting nonsense now.""I'm spouting too much sense for you to understand," Bast said testily. "But you're close enough to see my point.”