Let's kill the big one with the red whiskers then," another suggested. "He looks like he might be troublesome, and he's probably too stupid to know anything useful."
"I want that one," Barak whispered.
Young lady," Silk said urbanely, "I think you'd be amazed at how little Polgara's concerned about who you are."
"Polgara?" Ce'Nedra faltered. "The Polgara? I thought you said that she was your sister."
"I lied," Silk confessed. "It's a vice a have.
It's the nature of man to ask questions.
--Belgarath
Now do you see why war irritates me? It's always the same. A lot of people get killed, but in the end, the whole thing is settled at the conference table. The notion of having the conference first doesn't seem to occur to people.
David EddingsIs it my birthday again? Already? Where does the time go?"
"Behind us --or in front. It depends on which way you are looking.
Have you ever noticed that? We base our assessment of the intelligence of others almost entirely on how closely their thinking matches our own. I'm sure that there are people out there who violently disagree with me on most things, and I'm broad-minded enough to conceded that they might possibly not be completely idiots, but I much prefer the company of people who agree with me.
You might want to think about that.
When my sons told me about what they'd found, I went to the priests of Belar and had them examine the auguries. This is the year to go. The ice up there won't be as thick again for years and years. Then they cast my own auguries, and from what they say, this could be the most fortunate year in my whole life."
"Do you actually believe that superstitious nonsense?" I demanded. "Are you so gullible that you think that somebody can foretell the future by fondling a pile of sheep guts?"
He looked a little injured. "This was important, Belgarath. I certainly wouldn't trust sheep's entrails for something like this."
"I'm glad to hear that."
"We used a horse instead. Horse guts never lie.
...Zedar was gone...As an owl, though, I was able to drift silently from tree to tree until I caught up with him...He wasn't really hard to follow, since he'd conjured up a dim, greenish light to see by --and to hold off the boogiemen. Did I ever tell you that Zedar's afraid of the dark? That adds another dimension to his present situation, doesn't it?
He was bundled to the ears in furs, and he was muttering to himself as he floundered along through the snow. Zedar talks to himself a lot. He always has.
...I drifted to a nearby tree and watched him --owlishly.
Sorry. I couldn't resist that.
When he reached out with both huge hands to grasp me, I ducked under them and stepped forward, smoothly pulling my knife out of my sleeve. Then, with one quick swipe, I sliced him across the belly. I wasn't certain enough of his anatomy to try stabbing him in the heart. As big as he was, his ribs were probably as thick as my wrist.
He stared at me in utter amazement. Then he looked down at the entrails that came boiling out of the gaping wounds that ran from hip to hip across his lower belly.
"I think you dropped something there, Grul," I suggested.
He clutched at his spilling entrails with both hands, a look of consternation on his brutish face. "'Grat cut Grul's belly," he said. "Make Grul's insides fall out."
"Yes, I noticed that. Did you want to fight some more, Grul? I think you could spend your time better by sewing yourself back together. You're not going to be able to move very fast with your guts tangled around your feet."
"'Grat is not nice," he accused mournfully, sitting down and holding his entrails in his lap.
There are things we know for certain."
"Oh? Name one."
"The sun's going to come up tomorrow morning."
"Why?"
"It always has."
"Does that really mean that it always will?"
A faint look of consternation crossed her face. "It will, won't it?"
"Probably, but we can't be absolutely certain. Once you've decided that something's absolutely true, you've closed your mind on it, and a closed mind doesn't go anywhere. Question everything, Pol. That's what education's all about.
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