More from this book
“Nothing is normal in war,” Vaudai said. “It is always an experiment to discover what will undo the last encounter’s defenses and what will defend against the newest angle of attack. One creates the form of the other, and echoes back again in an endless spiral of sophistication and elegance. Conflict is the engine of excellence, and war is the distillation of conflict. It is the grand unfolding that ends in the embrace of eternity. Also, it is like painful defecation and leaves me with an ache.”
“Good news!” Vaudai said, rushing up to them the way a puppy would have if it didn’t have feet, fur, bones, or eyes.
Rickar shook his head. “You know,” he said. “I had to work at it. I had to focus on other shit like Alchor selling us out, but I managed. I did it for a while.”
“Did what?”
“Forgot,” Rickar said. “I made myself forget what the Carryx are.”
“And now?”
“Now I remember why I made myself forget.”
