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Anne Elisabeth Stengl Biography

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“Love is a terrible thing," Mouse whispered. "Only love gone astray," said the prisoner. "Only imperfect love." Mouse tried once more, feebly, to shake off the prisoner's grip. "You frighten me." "Oh, child!" said the prisoner. "The time has come you should be frightened. If fear will awaken you, be afraid! And then be courageous in your fear and act!" "There's nothing I can do." "You aren't the mouse they have made you be. You were meant for so much more!”

“Lionheart bows his head then, pride sapped from him and replaced with dawning humility. "I would have fled." "But you did not. I am with you now." The Prince places a hand on Lionheart's shoulder. "You understand, don't you, the difference between guilt and repentance?" Slowly, Lionheart nods. "You understand that you can never absolve your own sin?" Again Lionheart nods. "But you are forgiven. All that is past is past. The man you once were is no more. The man you are now is what matters, and I declare your name in truth: Lionheart. From this moment forth, you will serve me with the courage of roaring lions, and all my foes will tremble at your name, for they will know that you are one of mine.”

“Hri Sora stood transfixed upon her roof, watching the scene being played out on the streets of Etalpalli. She could not believe her eyes. The fire in he breast flared in her fury at such a picture of tenderness enacted in this place of death. She gnashed her teeth and tore at her own hair, leaving lines of blood streaming through the lank strands. "I must be mistaken!" she raged. "How can a woman of the Land be. . . be compassionate to one of them? The little monsters! The little fiends! They have his eyes, yet she stretches out her hand to them?”

“The shape was that of a hound with a coat of white-gold luster... the eyes shone with an angelic light, or one of a higher order still. Unhurried, he approached the girl and looked down upon her sorry state. He saw the Path she had walked and would later walk again. He saw how the twisting and winding of this Path would baffle her. The shining one bent his head and placed a kiss on the girl's forehead. Then he turned and loped into the forest, vanishing as though he had never been.”

“What are their rights?" he asked at last. He could scarcely hear himself speak. But whoever stood beside him in the dark seemed to have no difficulty. "To choose their own paths," it replied. "To live their lives without obligation. To be gods of their own worlds." Once more Eanrin considered. Then he asked, "Why are their voices so small?" "Because I have given them what they demanded. I have allotted them worlds in which they may reign divine. And those worlds are small." "How small?" "Very small.”

“Foxbrush sneezed again. He couldn't help himself. It's not something a fellow likes to do when a stunningly beautiful woman is leaning toward him with an expression on her face like Nidawi's wore. But sneezes are not prey to the wants or wishes of those inflicted with them. He sneezed so violently that he nearly knocked his forehead against Nidawi's exquisite little chin. She leapt back lightly, frowning at first, then shaking the frown into a rain of laughter.”

“What, suddenly I am a figure from an ancient bit of nursery nonsense?" He lifted a forepaw and began chewing his toes, the picture of dismissive indifference. "And the next egg you come across you'll ask, 'Tell me, sir, what were you doing up on that wall anyway?'" "Are you ashamed to answer?" "I am ashamed of nothing. I am a cat." The cat gracefully placed his paw next to the other, sitting as prim as a perfect statue.”

“What's the good of a story that ain't got a happy endin'?" the girl demanded, crossing her arms. Leo considered. "Maybe it does have a happy ending. At least, when it's actually complete. I mean, this part of it is sad. But maybe something good will come from it still? I suppose you have to read all the legends together to know for sure, but I don't know all of them. This one is sad, but there might be a story out there somewhere to make it happy." The girl nodded. "I'd like to know that story someday.”

“Hullo there, jester," the poet said with a bright smile. Lionheart, who had not made himself known wondered just how the blind poet had known he was there. "I say, it's a bit discomfiting, isn't it? Old Ragniprava prowling abut the place, I mean. I've almost bumped into him once or twice. It's the most socially awkward situation. I mean, what do you say? 'Greetings, my lord, sorry about the eye. Shall we let bygones be bygones?' It's not as though I can make him the whole eye-for-an-eye offer, can I?”

“A silver lantern sat before Eanrin, there in the depths of the pit. It was small and delicately wrought, and in its heart glowed a light more potent, more beautiful, more colorful than starlight. Eanrin recognized it at once: Akilun's lantern, the fabled Asha. A gift from beyond the Final Water, crafted in the realm of the Farthest Shore. Akilun himself had died grasping it in his hands. "And so I might die," Eanrin whispered. "So I might lose myself.”