Lightsong:[Regarding why he's winning a game he doesn't actually know the rules to] You have to understand the playing field, and learn to get inside the mind of the sphere. Think like it does, reason as it might. Lifeblesser: Reason like a sphere? What type of reasoning does a wooden sphere do? Lightsong: The circular type, I should think. And, by coincidence, it is my favorite type as well. Perhaps that's why I'm so good at the game.
His banter with Blushweaver is particularly hilarious.
Lightsong: I've actually considered expanding the theory. I am now proposing to believe that God—or the universe, or time, or whatever—is all really just a drunk monkey. Blushweaver:[obviously pushing up her breasts in a seductive fashion] And, do you think my title was chosen by happenstance? Goddess of honesty and interpersonal relations. Seems to fit, wouldn't you say? Lightsong: My dear, did you just try to prove the existence of God with your cleavage? Blushweaver: You'd be surprised what a good wiggle of the chest can accomplish. Lightsong: Hum. I'd never considered the theological power of your breasts, my dear. If there were a Church devoted to them, perhaps you'd make a theist out of me after all.
The theory in question? "Our names and titles are assigned randomly by a small monkey who has been fed an exceedingly large amount of gin."
The scripted conversation. All of it. 'Blushweaver says something about politics which is dreadfully boring but she offsets it by wriggling her chest.'
Also regarding the above mentioned game to which he does not know the rules: He wins at it. Every time. He briefly considers trying to throw the game to keep the other gods from keeping challenging him, but is forced to abandon this plan upon recognizing that trying to throw the game would be identical to what keeps causing him to win it.
"When all else fails, use sexual innuendo. It always bring the focus back where it belongs. On me."
Llarimar constantly reminding Lightsong of his godhood and the effects it has.
Llarimar: You can't go mad. It's impossible.
Lightsong: I'm sick. Llarimar: You can't get sick, Your Grace. Lightsong:[pretends to cough but Llarimar just rolls his eyes] Oh come on, can't you just play along a little? Llarimar: Play along that you are sick? Your Grace, to do that would be to pretend that you're not a god. I do not believe that's a good precedent for your high priest to set.
Llarimar: You can't get drunk. Lightsong: Ah, but I certainly enjoy trying.
Also, Lightsong wondering about his pre-Returned life:
Lightsong: I was someone useful? I was just beginning to convince myself I'd died in a reasonable way—such as falling off a stump when I was drunk. Llarimar: You know you died in a brave way, Your Grace. Lightsong: It could have been a really high stump.
Just the whole scene where Siri walks right up to the God King... and starts faking her uh, wifely duties. This being the God that everyone has been telling her is terrifying and merciless and will kill her if she shows any sign of disrespect.
Particularly his reaction: Just staring at her in total confusion. And this happens every day for a week.
Lightsong needs to see Allmother. Allmother doesn't want to see Lightsong. What does he do? RAISE HELL.
Priestess: My pardons, Your Grace, but I have already asked fourteen times. Goddess Allmother is growing impatient with your requests, and she instructed me not to respond to them anymore. Lightsong: Did she give the same command to the other priestesses? Priestess: Well, no, Your Grace. Lightsong: Wonderful, send for one of them. Then send her to ask Allmother if she will see me [after the priestess resignedly leaves, he turns to Llarimar] I'm developing a new skill. Irritation by proxy!
And when that doesn't work? Plan B:
Lightsong: Hum, she's getting better. Well, I guess there's nothing to be done. Scoot, set up my pavilion here in front of her palace. I'm going to be sleeping here tonight. Llarimar: You're going to do what? Lightsong: I'm not moving until I meet with her. That means staying until she acknowledges me. It's been over a week! If she wants to be stubborn, then I'll prove that I can be equally stubborn. I'm quite practiced at it, you know. Comes from being an insufferable buffoon, and all. I don't suppose she forbade you from allowing squirrels into the building? Priestess:[startled] Squirrels, Your Grace? Lightsong: Excellent. [pulls out a Lifeless squirrel and activates it] Go into the building, search out the Returned who lives in it, and run around in circles squeaking as loudly as you can. Don't let anyone catch you. Oh and destroy as much furniture as you can [squirrel runs into the building with a horrified priestess chasing after it] What a delightful afternoon it's becoming! Llarimar: It wouldn't be able to follow all of those orders. It has the mind of a squirrel. Lightsong: We shall see [shouts of annoyance drifts out of the palace and Lightsong smiles, prompting his musicians to play louder]
Gets even better when Allmother finally lets Lightsong in:
Allmother:[gestures to the captured squirrel] This is yours, I am told? Lightsong: Ah yes, Terribly sorry. It kind of got away from me. Allmother: With an accidental command to find me? Then run around in circles screaming? Lightsong: That actually worked? Interesting. My high priest didn't think the squirrel's brain would be capable of following such complicated Commands. Allmother:[stares] Lightsong: Oh, I mean, 'Whoops. It completely misunderstood me. Stupid squirrel.' My deepest apologies, honored sister.
Not forgetting when the frazzled-looking priestess comes to finally inform him that Allmother will see him now.
Lightsong: Hum? Oh, that. Do I have to go now? Can't I finish listening to this song?
Denth and Tonk Fah interactions are always amusing:
Viviena: You're worried that I'll mess things up, aren't you? Denth: You're the leader in this little dance, Princess. I'm just the guy who mops the floor afterward. And I hate mopping up blood. Viviena: Oh, please [walks away while rolling her eyes] Denth:[turns to Tonk Fah] Bad metaphor? Tonk: Nah, it had blood in it. That makes it a good metaphor. Denth: I think it lacked poetic style. Tonk: Find something that rhymes with 'blood' then. Mud? Thud? Uh...tastebud?
Then a little while later:
Tonk: Flood. Denth: Hum? Tonk: Rhymes with blood. Now you can be poetic. Flood of Blood. It is a nice visual image. Far better than tastebud. Denth: Ah I see. Tonk Fah? Tonk: Yes? Denth: You're an idiot. Tonk: Thanks.
Vasher and Vivenna get chuckle-worthy moment too.
Vivenna: Should have called you Wartlover the Ugly. Vasher: Very mature.
Nightblood has a tendency to act like an unusually violent kicked puppy, leading to little monologues like this (after Vasher chokes two guards unconscious with a shirt):
Nightblood: You didn't use me much. You could have used me. I'm better than a shirt. I'm a sword. I really am better than a shirt. I would have killed them. Look, they're still breathing. Stupid shirt.