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“Maroc Metz—as usual in his tailcoat, rimless glasses, gloved hands, and neatly brushed black hair—welcomes the Mesmerizer with boiling-hot tea—Earl Grey, raspberry flavor. He drinks a third of it in one gulp, its heat boosting his prana. The boiling-hot tea doesn’t make him blink away from the Devil’s Book.”
― Misba, The Oldest Dance

“One room in the two-story building glows, violin music emanating from it. Maroc is playing for his master: The Roar of Death Sonata, 1st Movement, one of the legendary Eleven Pieces composed after the Apocalypse.”
― Misba, The Oldest Dance

“Never give bad news when Master Ruem drinks tea, Maroc knows the rule.”
― Misba, The Oldest Dance

“Maroc leaps down to the ring-yard, passes a pond of lilies, then the big stones around a purple willow tree and the sandy ground where only training happens. He fixes the gloves on his hands, just as the knight of Kuhawk should before dealing with an unwanted intruder of this â€� house? Manor? Palace? â€� No matter what you call it, if you knew its secrets, you’d call it something else entirely.”
― Misba, The Oldest Dance

“Bring wine,â€� he mutters. “She’s an old friend.â€� Standing in his bedroom, he notices the subtle change of expression—a frown, almost—on Maroc’s face after hearing the old-friend part.”
― Misba, The Oldest Dance

“Thrown at Kuhawk at 460 mph while I was roasting a heart,â€� Maroc says, showing him a hover-tray. It holds something stone-hard and dead—a bird. A crow.”
― Misba, The Oldest Dance

“Will of Slayer!
Maroc guards himself against the Will of Slayer the Mesmerizer emits. His prana shields him firmly. He even goes far enough to murmur something under his breath and not just think it—the word his Master Ruem taught him. It keeps his body warm.

“Burn it,â€� the Mesmerizer mutters. The air turns denser. If air had consciousness, it would feel the weight of his voice now—the King of Mesmerizersâ€� voice.”
― Misba, The Oldest Dance

“From above, the entire plan of Kuhawk looks like a bird’s nest; the globe looks like a gem at the center.
It’s quiet. Except for the times when music happens.
Like now�

One room in the two-story building glows, violin music emanating from it. Maroc is playing for his master: The Roar of Death Sonata, 1st Movement, one of the legendary Eleven Pieces composed after the Apocalypse.”
― Misba, The Oldest Dance

“Master Ruem, a shipment has arrived,â€� Maroc says. “Premium packaging, express delivery, includes two-hundred-percent insurance. The sender’s address is Lotus Lodge, North Alpha.â€� He glances at the Mesmerizer from the corner of his eyes who now stops drinking. “It’s a grand piano. Decades-old model.â€� Maroc reveals.”
― Misba, The Oldest Dance

“Maroc Metz nods like a loyal knight. He doesn’t complain that the tea in his own cup has turned into ice because of his Master Ruem’s Will of Slayer. He doesn’t ask what this dead bird means. He only guesses. The Mesmerizer taught him enough about alchemy, especially, dark alchemy, to know what it might be.”
― Misba, The Oldest Dance