There's a peculiar dichotomy in the nature of almost anyone who calls himself a historian. Such scholars all piously assure us that they're telling us the real truth about what really happened, but if you turn any competent historian over and look at his damp underside, you'll find a storyteller, and you can believe me when I tell you that no storyteller's ever going to tell a story without a few embellishments. Add to that the fact that we've all got assorted political and theological preconceptions that are going to color what we write, and you'll begin to realize that no history of any event is entirely reliable...
David EddingsMisty Sendaria," Silk said ironically. "Sometimes I'm amazed that the entire kingdom doesn't rust shut.
David EddingsI must admit that I haven't heard of the Duchess of Erat before."
"You're a fortunate man," Wolf said.
"She's a great beauty," the man said admiringly.
"And has a temper to match," Wolf told him.
"I noticed that," the guard said.
"We noticed you noticing," Silk told him slyly.
Could you penetrate this palace, Prince Kheldar?" King Anheg challenged.
"I already have, your Majesty," Silk said modestly, "a dozen times or more."
Anheg looked at Rhodar with one raised eyebrow.
Rhodar coughed slightly. "It was some time ago, Anheg. Nothing serious. I was just curious about something, that's all."
"All you had to do was ask," Anheg said in a slightly injured tone.
"I didn't want to bother you," Rhodar said with a shrug. "Besides, it's more fun to do it the other way.
Behold Vo Mimbre," Mandorallen proclaimed with pride, "queen of cities. Upon that rock the tide of Angarak crashed and recoiled and crashed again. Upon this field met they their ruin. The soul and pride of Arendia doth reside within that fortress and the power of the Dark One may not prevail against it."
"We've been here before, Mendorallen," Mister Wolf said sourly.
Someday you'll have to show me how you did that," Asharak was saying. "I found the experience interesting. My horse had hysterics, however."
"My apologies to your horse.
Whatever happened to him?" Silk asked.
"He went swimming in the Nedrane."
"I didn't know that Thulls swam all that well."
"They don't–particularly not with large rocks tied to their feet.
Mandorallen turned to Barak. "If it please thee, my Lord," he requested politely, "deliver my challenge as soon as they approach us."
Barak shrugged. "It's your skin," he noted. He eyed the advancing knights and then lifted his voice in a great roar. "Sir Madorallen, Baron of Vo Mandor, desires entertainment," he declaimed. "It would amuse him if each of your parties would select a champion to joust with him. If, however, you are all such cowardly dogs that you have no stomach for such a contest, cease this brawling and stand aside so that your betters may pass."
"Splendidly spoken, my Lord Barak," Madorallen said with admiration.
"I've always had a way with words," Barak replied modestly.
Exaggerating?" Silk sounded shocked. "You don't mean to say that horses can actually lie, do you?
Hettar shrugged. "Of course. They lie all the time. They're very good at it."
For a moment Silk looked outraged at the thought, and then he suddenly laughed. "Somehow that restores my faith in the order of the universe," he declared.
Wolf looked pained. "Silk," he said pointedly, "you're a very evil man. Did you know that?"
"One does one's best," Silk replied mockingly.
Dost thou question my word, Sir Knight?" Madorallen returned in an ominously quiet voice. "And wilt thou then come down and put thy doubt to the test? Or is it perhaps that thou wouldst prefer to cringe doglike behind thy parapet and yap at thy betters?"
"Oh, that was very good," Barak said admiringly.
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