“I say . . .” Grimm began, slowly. Then he sighed. “I say that you are a manipulative son of a bitch, sire.” “Each and every day of the week,” Lord Albion replied, nodding.
Grimm strode toward the Spirearch’s Manor, his booted steps striking the stone floor with sharp, clear impacts, and reminded himself that murdering the idiot beside him in an abrupt surge of joyous violence would be in extremely bad taste.
“A tad stuffy,” Rook said disapprovingly. “Might as well call you ‘Captain’ all day, as though you still had a true commission.”
Extremely bad taste, Grimm thought. Appallingly bad taste. Historically bad taste. No matter how joyous.
The smile vanished. “I will have that core crystal, Grimm.”
Grimm nodded thoughtfully. And then, quite quickly and with no restraining gentleness whatsoever, he slapped Commodore Hamilton Rook across the face.
Rook’s eyes blazed and he drew himself up to his full, intimidating height. “You arrogant insect,” he snarled. “Do you think you can slap me about without paying for it?”
In answer, Grimm took a quick step forward and did it again. Rook tried to flinch away from the blow, but Grimm’s hand was too quick for him. Again the sound of the slap echoed down the hallway.
“Sir,” Creedy said, “the estimate for repairs is . . . considerable.”
“I’m aware,” Grimm said.
“I’m afraid that . . . times being what they are, there might be those in the High Houses who might begin to put pressure on you to sell.”
“Really?” Grimm said. “Well, I suppose they have the right to make offers.”
“I’m afraid they might be more aggressive than that, sir,” Creedy said earnestly.
“If they get out of line, I’ll just slap them around and threaten them until they stop,” Grimm said.
At that Creedy all but spat out some of the drink he’d just taken. He managed to choke it down and after a moment managed a chuckle. “My sister told me you had an odd sense of humor, sir.”
“I suppose I do,” Grimm said.
Although...this one is a close rival:
She watched his hollow, weary eyes stare for long heartbeats at the scorched not-men who now littered their library floor before he answered. “What have we learned today, Folly?”
“That one ought not to use etheric weapons against an etherealist?”
“While what you say is very true, I was hoping for a different context.”
“What is that at the very top of your forward mast?” Grimm looked up, following Bayard’s gaze to where a small, solid form was outlined against the sunlit mist. “Apparently,” he said, “it is a cat.”
Hmm...prime meme material me thinks...
Reading it but not finished yet, the first time I laughed was when I was encountered the following line:
Apparently they do not match. I was going to say strawberries."
Reading it but not finished yet, the first time I laughed was when I was encountered the following line:
Apparently they do not match. I was going to say strawberries."
It's the lead-in to this quote that makes this line memorable.
I found this to be a favorite (don't know if it really counts as a quote, per se):
Rowl batted him sharply on the nose with enough claw to draw a few drops of educational blood and let out another growl.
"Let me put it this way, sir. If ever you meet an etherealist who does not seem odd, you will have ample reason for caution. An etherealist who speaks to things that are not there and cannot track the day of the week is par for the course. One that is perfectly well dressed, calmly spoken, and inviting you to tea? That is someone to be feared."
Having finished that stands out for me.
Danny
Bridget: "We're a civilized society, are we not?
Esterbrook: "Since when, miss? We're a democracy."
I chortled.
Also
"What's happened to you, Mad? You've acquired a few shreds of discretion. I remember a time when you would have braced the pompous twit in the middle of the habble market at noonday"
Everything Folly and Ferus said and many, many other things.
Oh! Gwen´s opinion of Rook!