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He had never lost that mingled combination of awe and terror that welled up in him when confronted by the routinely huge distances of space.

“Is there anyone or anything in this city which can’t be bought?” I said, slipping him a note.

“Yeah,” the man said, laughing quietly. “But I’m not it.”

But make no mistake. My counterpart is capable of a great deal of ruthlessness in pursuit of a just cause. He believes he has right on his side. And men who think they have right on their side are always the most dangerous sort.

I don’t question your loyalty, Skade. I just wonder exactly what it is you’re loyal to.

Don’t overestimate your familiarity with technologies you barely understand. It could be your undoing.

“Is he dangerous?

“Anyone who lies for a living is dangerous.”

Just because something had spawned a myth did not automatically mean it had to contain anything of substance.

The one thing I never counted on was having luck on my side.

It was generally simpler that way.

It was one of the oldest tricks of mob-management: give them a hate figure.

In Clavain’s experience, it was the less comforting possibility that generally turned out to be the case. It was the way the universe worked.

“Tanner, are you insane?”

“Very probably several kinds of insane,” I said. “But I’m afraid it doesn’t change anything. I’m perfectly happy with my current delusional system.”

“A splendidly inept thing,” Sylveste said, nodding despite himself.

“What?”

“The human capacity for grief. It just isn’t capable of providing an adequate emotional response once the dead exceed a few dozen in number. And it doesn’t just level off—it just gives up, resets itself to zero. Admit it. None of us feel a damn about these people.”