Savaşkıran

"Identify yourselves. You on the left, who are you?" "My name is Gagaril," the man said. "I'm sorry," Lightsong said. The man flushed. "I was named after my father, Your Grace." "After he what? Spent an unusual amount of time at the local tavern?"

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İdilthemoth

"Lightsong the Bold," she said as one of her servants brought her chair. "I trust your day has been pleasant?" "So far this day I have discovered several disturbing and redefining elements of my soul which are slowly restructuring the very nature of my existence." He took a sip from his drink. "Other than that, it was uneventful. You?"

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Reklam

İdilthemoth

"Charmer?" he wrote. "I must only speak what I see. There is nothing so wonderful as you, even in my entire court. The mountains must be special indeed, to produce such beauty."

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İdilthemoth

"I hate this entire city, with its colors and its gods! I hate the fact that it stole away my life, then demanded that I leave behind all that I love! I hate the busy streets, the placating gardens, the commerce, and the suffocating weather. "I hate their arrogance most of all. Thinking they could push my father around, force him into that treaty twenty years ago. They've controlled my life. Dominated it. Ruined it. And now they have my sister."

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İdilthemoth

"Are you all right, Your Grace?" "No man should be this important," Lightsong said. "Your Grace?" Llarimar asked, walking up beside him. "It does strange things to you. We weren't built for it."

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