Madouc

I may be called upon to address the company. No one will listen, of course, which is just as well, since I have nothing to say.

He adjudicated the case in a manner I still find perplexing, but which must have been equitable, since it pleased no one.

The mind was a marvellous instrument, thought Shimrod; when left to wander untended, it often arrived at curious destinations.

“Poor Pymfyd! Your world is built of fear and dread! As for me, I have no time for such emotions.”

Pymfyd spoke in an even voice. “You are a royal princess and I may not call you a witless little fool, even should the thought cross my mind.”

Madouc turned him a sad blue-eyed glance. “So that, after all, is your concept of me.”

“I will say only this: persons who fear nothing are soon dead.”

What is peace? Balance three iron skewers tip to tip, one upon the other; at the summit, emplace and egg, so that it too poises static in mid-air, and there you have the condition of peace in this world of men.