Westmark Freedom and Confinement Quotes

Scholars from the university at Freyborg had brought him treatises to print. The business dried up after the king appointed Cabbarus chief minister. By order of Cabbarus, official approval was required for every publication; even a text on botany was eyed with suspicion. Anton was reduced to turning out visiting cards for the gentry and billheads for the tradespeople. He was no worse off than other printers in Westmark. A number had been arrested, and some of them hanged. So, to that extent, he was considerably better off. (1.2)

"Actually, the Bear is the smarter. He usually sets Old Kasperl straight, as you may have noticed. The chief minister, I am happy to say, finds their humor cuts a little too close to the bone. They were—embodied, that is, in their creator—quite recently invited to a hanging: their own. A tribute to their ability to nettle Cabbarus, but an honor I was grateful to forgo. A whole crew of us scriveners awaited the writing of our last pages in the Carolia Fortress. A few succeeded in escaping. I joined them, not wishing Old Kasperl to make his final public appearance on the gallows. Once out, we all separated. I made my way here. These water rats have been most hospitable. They admire lawbreakers." (14.42)

Cabbarus leafed through his papers. "As for you—not long ago a band of rebels attacked the Nierkeeping garrison. I am led to conclude you were present."

"In a cage," protested Las Bombas. "And my colleagues were—"

"Freed by the selfsame rebels. By the strict letter of the law, you were, therefore, at the scene of a brutal crime, where nearly a dozen soldiers were killed. You did nothing to prevent it. You offered no assistance to the authorities, you came forward with no information. A tribunal must look severely on your conduct. It would, in fact, have no choice but to sentence you to the extreme penalty." (23.7-9)

"Like the phoenix," cried Stock. "Like the legendary bird that rises from its own ashes, this press will rise from its own rubbish heap."

"Leave off," said Zara. "If you mean to work, stay. If not, go to Jellinek's."

The bulky poet seized a sheet of paper from the table. "I shall set to work immediately. I have some verses in mind. They shall be the first offsprings of our mechanical phoenix. The original laid only a single egg, but we can hatch thousands." (15.9-11)

Theo and Musket sprang to haul out the count, who was barely able to crawl from his narrow prison. Las Bombas threw his arms around Mickle. "Bless you for a housebreaker."

"Go, the rest of you," Theo ordered Zara. "Get out of here. We'll catch up with you."

Las Bombas had slipped to the cobbles. Even with the help of Mickle and the dwarf, Theo could scarcely put the count on his feet and heave him into the coach. (17.47-49)

What also puzzled Theo was how Florian stayed out of prison, for the man spoke his mind whenever and wherever he chose. The townsfolk worshiped him, and Theo first believed the officers feared a riot if they laid hands on him. Theo was wrong, as he learned one afternoon when two constables strode into the tavern and began badgering Jellinek for information about a runaway apprentice. (13.35)

"It is monstrous to think of them growing up in this—sewer, for it is hardly better than one." "On the contrary," said Keller, "they are among the lucky. Marianstat swarms with waifs and strays, as you surely know. Sometimes I think they must live in the cracks of the sidewalks. For them, what you call a sewer would be a holiday in the country. We, too, should be glad of it as long as we are obliged to stop here." (14.50-51)

"You were right, my boy. Honesty is the best policy. That cage was a blessing in disguise. Public humiliation, private starvation. I vowed to mend my ways if ever I got free. My ordeal reduced me in body, but fortified me in spirit." (19.6)

By midmorning, the sun had burned away the fog from the valley land east of Dorning. Theo calculated he had trudged only a few miles, but he was already weary. He had, thus far, come upon no travelers in either direction, for which he was grateful. Being obliged to give an account of himself was the last thing in the world he wanted. He had already done violence to a man. He did not wish to compound this by doing violence to the truth. He had never told a lie; it occurred to him that sooner or later he would have to lie outrageously. The best he could do was put off the moment as long as possible. (4.1)

On the night he had left Felden, he struck out across country, heading generally south. He trudged without a halt until daybreak. Even then he did not stop until some hours later when his legs gave out. He had made up his mind not to think of Mickle, the count, Musket, or anything connected with them. In consequence, he thought of nothing else. Mickle's absence crept over him like a toothache: at first ignored, then denied, then taking command altogether. (12.4)