All right," sighed Madrigal. "To the baths, then. To make ourselves shiningly clean."
Like vegetable, she thought, before they go in the stew.

He certainly had a clean look, but it was a little too deep.

What was he? Storyteller and secretary and doer of odd jobs, neither Tizerkane nor delegate, just someone along for the dream.

She knocked and waited, because when the door was opened from within, it had the potential to lead someplace quite different.

Infinities are not for casual exploration. You could fall and keep falling. You could get lost.

It was the first time either of them had ever held another's hand, and for them alone, the immensity of what unfolded that night was overshadowed by the perfect wonderment of fingers intertwined - as though this was what hands had always been for, and not for holding weapons at all.