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As a ten-year-old boy, the Thief of Eddis could stop a grown man in his tracks with a single look. Where had that look gone?

Megan Whalen Turner

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Megan Whalen Turner
Age: 59
Born: 1965
Born: January 1
Novelist
Writer
Years
Track
Men
Single
Eddis
Boys
Stop
Thief
Year
Tracks
Gone
Thieves
Look
Grown
Looks
Ten

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Let the gods into your life and you rapidly lose faith in the natural laws.
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Tell me a story then...keep me occupied. A story?...What makes you think I can tell a story? Insight, said the king, Go on.
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Anyone who can steal the king's seal ring can manage the locks on his record room.
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In the afternoon, the king and queen sat to hear the business of their kingdom. At least, the queen sat to hear the business Costis was still not sure what the king was doing.
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Who am I, that you should love me?
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That is ridiculous, she said. The king agreed. Like falling in love with a landslide. Only you could fail to notice.
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This is the stupidest plan I have ever in my career participated in, Xenophon said. I love stupid plans, said Eugenides.
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I can't leave her there all alone, surrounded by stone walls... She's too precious to give up.
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Would you have your hand back, Eugenides? And lose Attolia? And see Attolia lost to the Mede?' Eugenides's eyes were open. In front of his face the floor was littered with tiny bits of glass that glittered in the candlelight. 'You have your answer, Little Thief.
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The Magus must had eyes like a thief because he told Pol to stop and dismount to walk alongside me, one hand resting just above my knee ready to shake me if I fell asleep. He shook hard and resorted to pinching periodically.
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He couldn't offend the gods with a pointed stick.
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No friend had I made there, but I wasn't with this group to make friends, and besides, he sneered too much. I've found that people who sneer are almost always sneering at me.
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It made Costis wonder for the first time just how much the stoic man really wants to hide when he unsuccessfully pretends not to be in pain.
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Who was the Thief that she would love him? A youth, just a boy with hardly a beard and no sense at all... A liar, she thought, an enemy, a threat. He was brave, a voice inside her said, he was loyal... A fool, she answered back. A fool and a dead one. She ached with emptiness.
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A thief never makes a noise by accident.
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She was the stone-faced queen, then and ever after. She had needed the mask to rule, and she had been glad to have it. She wondered if Eugenides was glad of his.
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If I am the pawn of the gods, it is because they know me so well, not because they make my mind up for me.
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She pulled the bedclothes up as far as they would go and suppressed a perverse wish to have her old nurse come to chase away the darkness, perverse because she didn't know if she wanted the shadows to be empty or not.
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I'm dying of boredom. Or maybe just dying.
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The queen was settling on the edge of the bed, ungainly with hesitation and at the same time exquisite in her grace, like a heron landing in a treetop.
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