Ranger's Apprentice Coffee Quotes

Yet each country had items that the other needed. The Arridi had reserves of red gold and iron in their deserts that the Toscans required to finance and equip their large armies. Even more important, Toscans had become inordinately fond of kafay, the rich coffee grown by the Arridi.

The tavern keeper, a wiry man with a sharp-nosed face, round, prominent ears and a receding hairline that combined to give him a rodentlike look, glanced at him, absentmindedly wiping a tankard with a grubby cloth. Will raised an eyebrow as he looked at it. He'd be willing to bet the cloth was transferring more dirt to the tankard then it was removing. "Drink?" the tavern keeper asked. He set the tankard down on the bar, as if in preparation for filling it with whatever the stranger might order. "Not out of that," Will said evenly, jerking a thumb at the tankard. Ratface shrugged, shoved it aside and produced another from a rack above the bar. "Suit yourself. Ale or ouisgeah?" Ousigeah, Will knew, was the strong malt spirit they distilled and drank in Hibernia. In a tavern like this, it might be more suitable for stripping runt than drinking. "I'd like coffee," he said, noticing the battered pot by the fire at one end of the bar. "I've got ale or ouisgeah. Take your pick." Ratface was becoming more peremptory. Will gestured toward the coffeepot. The tavern keeper shook his head. "None made," he said. "I'm not making a new pot just for you." "But he's drinking coffee," Will said, nodding to one side. Inevitably the tavern keeper glanced that way, to see who he was talking about. The moment his eyes left Will, an iron grip seized the front of his shirt collar, twisting it into a knot that choked him and at the same time dragged him forward, off balance, over the bar,. The stranger's eyes were suddenly very close. He no longer looked boyish. The eyes were dark brown, almost black in this dim light, and the tavern keeper read danger there. A lot of danger. He heard a soft whisper of steel, and glancing down past the fist that held him so tightly, he glimpsed the heavy, gleaming blade of the saxe knife as the stranger laid it on the bar between them. He looked around for possible help. But there was nobody else at the bar, and none of the customers at the tables had noticed what was going on. "Aach...mach co'hee," he choked. The tension on his collar eased and the stranger said softly, "What was that?" "I'll...make...coffee," he repeated, gasping for breath. The stranger smiled. It was a pleasant smile, but the tavern keep noticed that it never reached those dark eyes. "That's wonderful. I'll wait here.

Halt seemed more antagonized by the fact that his brother didn’t like coffee than by the fact that he had stolen the throne from him.

Halt waved farewell, tilting his chair onto its back legs as he drained his coffee. Will frowned at him. “When I was your apprentice, you used to tell me not to do that. Said it’d loosen the chair legs.” “And so it will,” Halt said, smiling contentedly. “But it’s your chair now, so why should I care?

If a person ever wanted to capture you three," she said, "he'd just have to bait the trap with a pot of coffee." Will nodded. "And we'd go gladly," he agreed.

Just time for a mug of coffee in the meanwhile.” Crowley was already beginning to work on a third arrow. “Good idea,” he said. Then he frowned as a thought struck him. “Have you noticed that Leander puts milk in his coffee?” Halt grunted. “The man’s a savage.” Crowley raised an eyebrow. “This from the man who laces his coffee with honey?” “Honey is natural,” Halt told him. “Milk is little short of an abomination.

Halt waved farewell, tilting his chair onto its back legs as he drained his coffee. Will frowned at him. ‘When I was your apprentice, you used to tell me not to do that. Said it’d loosen the chair legs.’ ‘And so it will,’ Halt said, smiling contentedly. ‘But it’s your chair now, so why should I care?

Good idea,” he said. Then he frowned as a thought struck him. “Have you noticed that Leander puts milk in his coffee?” Halt grunted. “The man’s a savage.” Crowley raised an eyebrow. “This from the man who laces his coffee with honey?” “Honey is natural,” Halt told him. “Milk is little short of an abomination.