S.G. Night Quotes

• “Please. Don’t try and play games with me. It’s belittling. I’m not stupid — I can spot a wolf in sheep’s clothing when I see one - and your claws are showing.” -Enoch Michelson”

  S.G. Night

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• “I clench my teeth and push forward. My pen grinds out the first and eldest word: an Ink-borne lance of black fire, scratched into a sheet of ice.
  
  -The Penitent God”

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• “Racath admired them — well, most of them. Not the deacon. People like the deacon had spent their lives down on their knees while others had fought and died defending them from the Demons. Shameless swine."
  -The Penitent God”

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• “Oh, God in heaven, kill me now…” Rachel groaned. “I hate going to see Mrak. I always feel awkward going back to Velik Tor. After being a Scorpion for so long, after everything Oron’s told us about Mrak’s past…” she shook her head darkly. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to resist the temptation to perforate his bowels.”
  Notak looked back down at the letter. “Post script,” he read aloud. “Rachel, please leave Mrak alive and unharmed. We still need him, unfortunately, no matter how tempting it is to perforate his bowels.”
  “You made that up, he did not say that!”
  Notak handed her the letter, pointing. “Right there at the bottom.”
  Rachel squinted at the writing. “Faul.”

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• “Rachel snorted derisively. “You don’t seriously buy into all her prophetess hocus-pocus, do you?”
  “I do, actually,” Notak said, frowning. “She is the augur, Rachel.”
  “She’s exasperating!”
  “She is eccentric,” Notak corrected. “And you would be too if you had lived the life she had.”
  “She’s a whore!” Rachel spat, ignoring him.
  Notak looked at her, plainly puzzled. “I am fairly certain that she is a virgin, actually.”

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• “It’s difficult to explain…you see, I have met her, and so I know that same powerful aspect in her eyes that Racath saw that night. But it is not easily put into words, not so easily described to someone who hasn’t seen it. It was just…something.
  Liken it to meeting a star. You do not know the star, have never spoken to it before, nor have you ever picked it out of the sparkle of its sisters in the night sky. But the star knows you. It has spent your whole life watching you from the sky. You can keep no secrets from it. It knows every thought in your mind, every move you have ever made, every flaw you have hidden, every pain you have felt. Like the millennia it spent before you were born were years in waiting. Waiting for you and only you, like you are what gives it purpose. Like watching over you is the dedication of its entire life. So it knows you better than you know yourself.
  And while the star is bright, a twinkling gem that brims with youth and beauty, there is an intangible wisdom to it. It is undeniably experienced. But not old. It may have lived for a thousand of years before you were born, counting every second until you were brought into the world. But, for a star, a thousand years is still very, very young. Young enough to kiss.
  That feeling, that meeting with a star, is what pierced Racath’s heart when Nelle looked into his eyes. She was starlight, nightfire on an ebon velvet sky. Rapture.”

  S.G. Night

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• “Why don't you just do it, then?" Racath hissed. "Just kill me. I dare you."
  
  Now, I assume you know what this is. You've seen this before in other stories - the part where the disgruntled villain stands over the hero. He is triumphant, the hero now at his mercy. But when commanded to slay him, he hesitates. He lowers his sword. And he says: "I cannot."
  
  If you are to take away but one thing from the words I have spoken, let it be this: there is a world of difference between "I Cannot" and "I will not".
  
  "I cannot" is a surrender. It implies a lack of options. Someone who says such a thing does so only because they have no other choice. They do not WISH to relent - in fact, they usually want to obey their mandate and destroy the hero at their feet. But they cannot, because the guilt is too unbearable. But that does not make him a better man; all that a man who says "I cannot" has done, is given in to the compulsion to repent.
  
  Allow me to make myself perfectly clear - I HAD other options. Easy options. Simple options. I could have killed Racath Thanjel that day. I could have killed him and all the others, too. I could have left them dead and bloody on that grassy hill, and gone trotting back to the Imperator's lap. I could have shrugged off the attrition that had dogged my every step, thought better of my disenssion, given up on all hope of absolution and accepted my damnation. And I could have spent the rest of eternity destroying God's green earth at Lavethion's side.
  
  I could have. It would have been so easy. So simple. So wrong. And I didn't want to.
  
  And so I took a sickened step away. Stabbed Osveta into the grass. Shook my head. And said: "I won't.”

  S.G. Night

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• “Westward Trade doesn’t have stalls, sire.”

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• “If he’d judged Felsted correctly, he was the kind of man who checked all the locks in his house every night. Twice. Probably for fun.”

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• “Azrael’s hand is on your shoulder, Human. I am here for your soul." - Racath Thanjel”

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• “Enoch…knows things.”

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• “The truth is in your actions. The guilt is in your eyes. You have lived in sin for far too long. Tonight, I come in judgment.” - Racath Thanjel”

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• “Ah, good day, friend. Nice of you to drop in on my little corner of the world. How might I assist you on this delightfully dreary day?” - Enoch Michelson”

  S.G. Night

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• “No.” The word shattered Felsted’s question like an ugly, stained-glass window. “I chose poison because you deserved it. Because I wanted to watch you wriggle while the fear turns your brain to paste. That fear of death that drove you to the Demons door? I wanted to watch it betray you and eat you from the inside you. This is what comes of people like you, Felsted. I will not abide the folly of your peers’ betrayal. By every drop of blood on my hands, I swear that every single one of you who turned to the Dominion — for power, money, fear, I don’t care — will wither, break, and die. Azrael is coming for you and your friends, Felsted. The angel of death is here.”

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• “You had your chance. But that’s over now. No more antidotes. No more schedules. No more sickly-sweet order. No more cheating death. Your time has come, Felsted, and I am your angel. Follow me into the dark.” - Racath Thanjel”

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• “Forgive me, I have yet to introduce myself.” The Human spread his arms expansively and bowed in his chair. He made grand gestures at his stall full of paper, ink, charts, and graphing tools, like they were his subjects, and he their king.
  “I am Enoch Michelson, adept cartographer, recluse, and the lord and master of a tiny, dark corner of Patrician’s Market. I am a knower of many useless things, and a knower of a few things that matter. Finder of lost items. Gossipmonger.” His smile grew even slyer. “And an informant for a little band of Majiski assassins.”

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• “I am here on behalf of the people of the west. I speak for the Burrows.”
  “Ohh,” the Demon said, mockery dripping from the word. It made an exaggerated bow, its movements smooth as flowing magma. “An emissary! How quaint. I would expect introductions are in order, then. I am called Briz’nar, Greater Demon, Hand to the Duke of Milonok, and Commander of the Guard.”
  “That’s delightful,” Racath scowled. “You can call me Azrael.”

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• “I am Notak,” he answered in his dry, normal voice. “I kill Demons.”

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• “Racath’s eyebrows drew together. “Terms?”
  “Yes, terms,” Briz’nar replied, a forked tongue dancing behind its sharkish teeth. “Conditions for the riots to cease. The rabble must have some sort of price if they are sending one of your kind to do the bargaining. What is it, then? Coin? Food? Perhaps a much needed bath?” Some of the Arkûl chuckled.
  Racath rolled his eyes. “I’m not here to negotiate with anyone!” he answered incredulously. “The only terms I have are that you die, this Bridge is destroyed, and the Dominion never even thinks about looking at the Burrows ever again.”

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• “They invented words like scum and slime for people like him.”
  “My friend tells me that they invented whores for the same reason.”

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• “If you were to look on him fleetingly, to spare him only a passing glance, you would see only a man. If you looked a moment longer, you might get the feeling that there was something about him, something distinctly different. You might notice something peculiar about his eyes, might spot something strange about the tattoos running the length of his arms. Something out of place, something you cannot quite put your finger on….But to you, he still would be just a man.
  But a clever eye…a clever eye could see him for what he truly is.
  A clever eye would notice how his pupils taper at their tops and bottoms. A clever eye would see that his irises are no natural color. A clever eye would see that the patterns coiled on his arms, like blackened tongues of roiling flame, are not sunken into his skin like a tattoo’s Ink, but gently beveled at their edges — a part of his flesh. A clever eye could tell that, no, he is not just a man. Not just a Human.
  He is a Majiski — one of my people.
  
  -The Penitent God”

  S.G. Night

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• “This will do,” Notak said. “I need to meet my colleague to discuss details. How much do you want for the map?”
  “Go ahead and take it. No charge. One map is a small price to pay to help put Hammon in the ground. Hell, you can have the pencil too.”

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• “It will be a battle, then. A siege. A hundred-thousand Ink-borne arrows, flying forth from my flaming pen to assault the walls of tyrannical Cold that hold this man in awful rapture.
  It will be campaign for my friend’s very soul. A war of Ice, Ink, and Ember.
  So be it.
  My pen scratches the icy parchment once more. A second Ember joins the first.
  The War begins.
  
  -The Penitent God”

  S.G. Night

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• “You’d be surprised how much you can learn from men selling maps in the dark corners of the world." -Enoch Michelson”

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• “I do not believe that the Duke will find those terms acceptable. Might I convince you to reconsider—”
  “Dear God, go faul yourself, you self-important gecko!”

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