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Patricia A. McKillip

Patricia A. McKillip Books

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Alphabet Of Thorn

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Ombria in Shadow

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Solstice Wood

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Od Magic

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Riddle of Stars

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Riddle-Master

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Winter Rose

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“He ran from her suddenly, swift and quiet like a mountain cat among the high peeks of Eld mountain. She watched him dive in among the trees, and the autumn winds shoke suddenly at his heels. She sad down on a fallen trunk and dropped her head among the knees. A great soft warmth shiled her from the wind, and she looked up and saw into Gules Lyons quiet, golden eyes. What is it, white one? She knelt suddenly and flung his arms around the great mane, and burried her face against him. I wish that I had wings and could fly and fly and never come back. What has troubled you, Orams powerful child? What can trouble you? What can such a small one as Coren of Sirle say to touch you? For a long moment she did not answer. And then she said, her fingers tight around the gold tangeled fur. He has taken my heart and offered it back to me. And I thought he was harmless.”

“You are Faey's making Meg where silent, not even willing to give this old raven the sound of her voice. Domina Pearl smiled, a thin smile like a wrinkle in old leather. Who made you, really I wonder? Did she find you in some dorway? Or do you have a more fomplex history? Is she too stupud to know that you know you are humen? You are curious, you like knowing things, like secrets. I will tell you this; if I find you watching me again I will unmake you so well; past and future that not even Faeys remember you exister. Now give me that box.”

“The young gentlemen who came calling seemed especially puzzling. They sat in their velvet shirts and their leather boots, nibbling burnt cakes and praising Diamond's mind, and all the while their eyes said other things. Now, their eyes said. Now. Then: Patience, patience. 'You are flowers,' their mouths said, 'You are jewels, you are golden dreams.' Their eyes said: I eat flowers, I burn with dreams, I have a tower without a door in my heart, and I will keep you there...”

“You are not thinking, are you my waxling? I didn't make you to think." "Occasionally", Meg admited, "I have a thought." "Well, Makings such as you are difficult and seldom flawless. You keep away from Domina Pearl. Shes buissniss for us, but she is ruthless. I don't want you anywhere near in her thoughts." "I thought you said she is mostly imagination." "So she is", Faey said sotfly, "and so are you. She'd melt you down like a chandle if you got in her way. Dont niggle arguments at me, just keep out of her shadow." "Yes Faey." "I want you to go above, I need certain things. Don't be long; we'll have to work by noon.”

“If you have no faith in yourself, then have faith in the things you call truth. You know what must be done. You may not have courage or trust or understanding or the will to do it, but you know what must be done. You can't turn back. There is now answer behind you. You fear what you cannot name. So look at it and find a name for it. Turn your face forward and learn. Do what must be done. -Deth to Morgon, Prince of Hed-”

“I thought of you with your hair silver as snow all through that cold, slow journey from Sirle. I felt you troubled deep within me, and there was no other place in the world I would rather have been than in the cold night riding to you. When you opened your gates to me, I was home.”

“Branches grew from his hands, his hair. His thoughts tangled like roots in the ground. He strained upward. Pitch ran like tears down his back. His name formed his core; ring upon ring of silence built around it. His face rose high above the forests. Gripped to earth, bending to the wind's fury, he disappeared within himself, behind the hard, wind-scrolled shield of his experiences.”