The Curse of Chalion by Lois McMaster Bujold
Location 881:
Cazaril sighed. "I’m not saying you were wrong, Royesse. This time. I’m saying you were running blindfolded. And if it wasn’t headlong into a tree, it was only by the mercy of the gods, and not by any care of yours." "Oh." "You may have slandered an honest man. Or you may have struck a blow for justice. I don’t know. The point is…neither do you." Her oh this time was so repressed as to be unvoiced. The horribly practical part of Cazaril’s mind that had eased him through so many scrapes couldn’t help adding, "And right or wrong, what I also saw was that you made an enemy, and left him alive behind you. Great charity. Bad tactics." Damn, but that was no remark to make to a gentle maiden…with an effort, he kept from clapping his hands over his mouth, a gesture that would do nothing to prop up his pose as a high-minded and earnest corrector.
Location 2968:
"Vastly better. She’s…I want to say, collapsed, but I don’t mean overcome. The blessed release that comes when an unbearable pressure is suddenly removed. It’s a joy to look upon her."
Location 3102:
Cazaril hesitated. "Do you know that you are lit like a burning torch?" The groom inclined his head. "So I have been told, my lord, by the few with eyes to see. One can never see oneself, alas. No mundane mirror reflects this. Only the eyes of a soul." "There was a woman inside who glowed like a green candle." "Mother Clara? Yes, she just spoke to me of you. She is a most excellent midwife." "What is that, that anti-light, then?" Cazaril glanced toward where the women lingered. Umegat touched his lips. "Not here, if you please, my lord." Cazaril’s mouth formed a silent Oh. He nodded. The Roknari swept him a lower bow. As he turned to pad quietly into the gathering gloom, he added over his shoulder, "You are lit like a burning city."
Location 5394:
"So," said the Fox in an odd voice, staring up at Cazaril, "you did not interpose your body to save the royse of Ibra from defilement, but merely to save some random boy." "Random slave boy. My lord." Cazaril’s lips twisted, as he watched the Fox trying to work out just what this made Cazaril, hero or fool. "I wonder at your wits." "I’m sure I was half-witted by then," Cazaril conceded amiably. "I’d been on the galleys since I was sold as a prisoner of war after the fall of Gotorget." The Fox’s eyes narrowed. "Oh. So you’re that Cazaril, eh?" Cazaril essayed him a small bow, wondering what he had heard of that fruitless campaign, and shook out his tunic. Bergon hastened to help him don it again. Cazaril found himself the object of stunned stares from every man in the room, including Ferda and Foix. His tilted grin barely kept back bubbling laughter, though underneath the laughter seethed a new terror that he could scarcely name. How long have I been walking down this road?
Location 5416:
"I’ll never forget the first time I met you," said Bergon, "when they dropped me down beside you on the galley bench. For a moment you frightened me more than the Roknari did." Cazaril grinned. "What, just because I was a scaly, scabbed, burnt scarecrow, hairy and stinking?" Bergon grinned back. "Something like that," he admitted sheepishly. "But then you smiled, and said Good evening, young sir, for all the world as if you were inviting me to share a tavern bench and not a rowing bench."
Updated: Dec 03, 2022
He could not imagine that young lady being late anywhere. Her energy was appalling.
If this was to be anything like training young soldiers, young horses, or young hawks, the key was to take the initiative from the first moment, and keep it thereafter. He could be as hollow as a drum, so long as he was as loud.
She turned the page. "Let us," she said in an icy voice, "go on." Five gods, he’d seen exactly that same look of frustrated fury in the eyes of the young men who’d picked themselves up, spat the dirt from their mouths, and gone on to become his best lieutenants. Maybe this wasn’t going to be so difficult after all. With great effort, he cranked a broad grin downward into a grave frown and nodded august tutorly permission. "Continue."