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Opening QuoteEdit

But who are you, man, to answer God thus?  Will what is made say to him who made it—Why have you made me this way?  Does the potter not have power over his clay, to make, from the same mass, one vessel for honour, and another for dishonour?
—ROMANS 9:20-21

Prologue:Edit

When a man possesses the innocence of a child, we call him a fool.  When a child possesses the cunning of a man, we call him an abomination.  As with love, knowledge has its season.

Chapter One: SakarpusEdit

upon the high wall the husbands slept,
while ’round the hearth their women wept,
and fugitives murmured tales of woe,
of greater cities lost to Mog-Pharau …
—“THE REFUGEE’S SONG,” THE SAGAS

Chapter Two: HûnorealEdit

We burn like over-fat candles, our centres gouged, our edges curling in, our wick forever outrunning our wax.  We resemble what we are: Men who never sleep.
—ANONYMOUS MANDATE SCHOOLMAN, THE HEIROMANTIC PRIMER

Chapter Three: MomemnEdit

On my knees, I offer you that which flies in me.  My face to earth, I shout your glory to the heavens.  In so surrendering do I conquer.  In so yielding do I seize.
—NEL-SARIPAL, DEDICATION TO MONIUS

Chapter Four: HûnorealEdit

For He sees gold in the wretched and excrement in the exalted.  Nay, the world is not equal in the eyes of the God.
—SCHOLARS, 7:16, THE TRACTATE

Chapter Five: MomemnEdit

Where luck is the twist of events relative to mortal hope, White-Luck is the twist of events relative to divine desire.  To worship it is to simply will what happens as it happens.
—ARS SIBBUL, SIX ONTONOMIES

Chapter Six: MarrowEdit

Ask the dead and they will tell you.  All roads are not equal.  Verily, even maps can sin.
—EKYANNUS, 44 EPISTLES

What the world merely kills, Men murder.
—SCYLVENDI PROVERB

Chapter Seven: SakarpusEdit

… conquered peoples live and die with the knowledge that survival does not suffer honour.  They have chosen shame over the pyre, the slow flame for the quick. 
—TRIAMIS I, JOURNALS AND DIALOGUES

Chapter Eight: The River RohilEdit

The will to conceal and the will to deceive are one and the same.  Verily, a secret is naught but a deception that goes unspoken.  A lie that only the Gods can hear.
—MEREMPOMPAS, EPISTEMATA

Chapter Nine: MomemnEdit

A beggar’s mistake harms no one but the beggar.  A king’s mistake, however, harms everyone but the king.  Too often, the measure of power lies not in the number who obey your will, but in the number who suffer your stupidity.
—TRIAMIS I, JOURNALS AND DIALOGUES

Chapter Ten: CondiaEdit

Look unto other and ponder the sin and folly you find there.  For their sin is your sin, and their folly is your folly.  Seek ye the true reflecting pool?  Look to the stranger you despites, not the friend you love.
—TRIBES 6:42, THE CHRONICLE OF THE TUSK

Chapter Eleven: The Osthwai MountainsEdit

Since all men count themselves righteous, and since no righteous man raises his hand against the innocent, a man need only strike another to make him evil.
—NULLA VOGNEAS, THE CYNICATA

Where two reasons may deliver truth, a thousand lead to certain delusion.  The more steps you take, the more likely you will wander astray.
—AJENCIS, THEOPHYSICS

Chapter Twelve: The Andiamine HeightsEdit

Little snake, what poison in your bite!
Little snake, what fear you should strike!
But they don’t know, little snake—oh no!
They can’t see the tiny places you go…
—ZEÜMI NURSERY SONG

Chapter Thirteen: CondiaEdit

Damnation follows not from the bare utterance of sorcery, for nothing is bare in this world.  No act is so wicked, no abomination is so obscene, as to lie beyond the salvation of my Name.
—ANASÛRIMBOR KELLHUS, NOVUM ARCANUM

Chapter Fourteen: Cil-AujusEdit

The world is only as deep as we can see.  This is why fools think themselves profound.  This is why terror is the passion of revelation.
—AJENCIS, THE THIRD ANALYTIC OF MEN

Chapter Fifteen: CondiaEdit

If the immutable appears recast, then you yourself have been transformed.
—MEMGOWA, CELESTIAL APHORISMS

Chapter Sixteen: Cil-AujusEdit

A soul too far wandered from the sun,
walking deeper ways,
into regions beneath map and nation,
breathing air drawn for the dead,
talking of lamentation.
—PROTATHIS, THE GOAT’S HEART

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