“He’s a terrible liar. Worst I’ve ever seen, and I’ve made a study of liars, it’s half my trade. The man can’t hide a thing. His ears go dark as a plum, and then he just says it, whatever it is, because the alternative would be carrying it a moment longer than he has to and he hasn’t the constitution for that. And me, who’s built a whole life on what I don’t tell people, I sit across from this open book of a Colovian and I can’t for the life of me work out whether he’s the most foolish man I’ve ever met or the bravest. …I suspect there’s not as much difference between the two as I was raised to think.”

“A fortune-teller in the market grabbed my hand, unbidden, to read my fate. Went very quiet, and gave it back, and said no charge. No charge. I’ve never in my life had a Breton decline coin that was going spare. So either she saw the gallows in my palm, or a mugger, or something with rather more imagination than either, and hadn’t the stomach to bill me for it. I tipped her anyway. Felt only right. A woman who’ll work for free out of sheer horror at your future has earned a drink, and I’d hate for the one honest read I ever got to leave her out of pocket.”

“It’s not so grim as your lot make it. Nimeria’s not a thief at the door. She’s who carries you over when your legs won’t. You’d want kind hands at the end, wouldn’t you? We’ve got the kindest there is. You just have to stop being so bloody frightened of the dark to see it.”

“Tancelmo took me out to a proper tavern once and ordered the wine like it was a battle of wits with the keeper. Vintage this, region that, sniffed the cup, made a face, sent it back. I’m sat there having drunk worse out of a skin on a frozen ridge and been grateful to for it. So… I drank the rejected one. The one not good enough for him. It was lovely. Best wine I’d ever had, easily. He looked at me like I’d kicked a dog. I’ve never seen a man so wounded by another man simply enjoying something. I did it again the next round just to watch.”

“Tancelmo says I’ll drink myself into an early grave. Rich, that, coming from a man whose hands shake so bad he can’t hold the cup that’s ruining him… we make quite the pair, the two of us, propping up each other’s vices and calling it friendship. But he’s right, the old wreck, and I told him so, and he looked appalled that I’d agreed, because half the fun for him is the argument. So now I’ve ruined his evening by being reasonable. There’s no winning with elves. You concede the point and somehow you’ve still lost.”

“Everyone frets so about how they’ll go. Sword, rope, fever, fall… Me, I’ve near died of all the interesting ones and lived, so I’ve concluded the Spirits are saving me for something deeply stupid. Choke on a fishbone, most like, or slip on a wet roof I’ve climbed a hundred times sober and finally try the once I’m not. Wouldn’t that be the way of it? Survive the bear, the war, the gallows, the lot, and get done in by a halibut. The ancestors’ll never let me hear the end of it up there. ‘Here comes Morach. Mind the bones, lads.’”

“Worst that happens, they hang me, and I’ll tell you, I’ve made my peace with a deal worse than a quick drop. I’ve near frozen, near starved, near been gutted in a lane by a man with a knife. A rope’s fast. Almost considerate, by comparison. And here’s the thought that keeps me warm on a cold job: the Spirit-Queen carries you over either way, noose or no noose, and she’ll not turn her nose up at a thief. She’s seen worse through her door than me. She’s no bloody magistrate.”

“The young ones in the Refuge think I’m ancient. Twenty. I’m twenty. But I’ve got the marks, the size, I don’t say too much and I go off alone to the woods of a morning, so they’ve decided I’m some grizzled old hand from a hundred jobs ago, and they come to me for wisdom with these big serious faces. I haven’t the heart to tell them I’m mostly making it up as I go, same as them, just slower and quieter so it looks like I’ve thought it through. That’s half of what they call wisdom, I found. A long pause and a low voice and the good sense not to fill the silence.”