“What’s really going on in Perquaine?” “A peasant rebellion—at least on the surface.” Albron shook his head… — David Eddings
“What’s really going on in Perquaine?”
“A peasant rebellion—at least on the surface.”
Albron shook his head mournfully. “The lowlanders just don’t understand ordinary people, do they?”
“They haven’t got a clue. The aristocrats spend so much time admiring themselves in their mirrors that they don’t pay much attention to the commoners. From what I’ve heard, these rebellions break out every ten years or so. You’d think that after five or six times, the aristocrats might start to realize that they’re doing something wrong.”
“I certainly hope not. If the lowlanders start behaving like rational human beings, the clans of Arum are going to be out of work.”
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“Sick, isn’t it?” Dhakan replied. “Our glorious, but slightly warped, leader hasn’t let him out of her sight since the day he was captured.”
“Surely you don’t agree with that apostate!”
“I was talking about his skill, not his message, Aleikon ... He’s good. There’s no question about that.”
“I’m pretty good at that. There were a lot of things I did when I was just a boy that I didn’t tell her about. I didn’t come right out and lie to her, of course. A boy should never lie to his mother, but now and then things sort of slipped my mind. You know how that can happen.”
“Oh, yes.” Althalus laughed. “Things have been slipping my mind for as long as I can remember.”
