Those prancing little pants-wetters come here to learn the colorful and gentlemanly art of fencing, with its many sporting limitations and its proscriptions against dishonorable engagements. You on the other hand, you are going to learn how to kill men with a sword.

Scott Lynch

Stichwörter: killing fencing gentleman swords prancing



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I don't have to beat you. I don't have to beat you, motherfucker. I just have to keep you here... until Jean shows up.

Scott Lynch

Stichwörter: ambush jean-tannen



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You are beyond mad," said Locke after several moments of silent, furious thought. "Full-on barking madness is a state of rational bliss to which you may not aspire. Men living in gutters and drinking their own piss would shun your company. You are a prancing lunatic.

Scott Lynch


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Know something? I'd lay even odds that between the people following us and the people hunting us, we've become this city's principle means of employment. Tal Verrar's entire economy is now based on fucking with us.

Scott Lynch

Stichwörter: economy employment hunting following tal-verrar



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I think piracy is a bit like drinking. You want to stay out all night doing it, you pay the price the next day.

Scott Lynch

Stichwörter: drinking piracy



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Crooked Warden, I will fear no darkness for the night is yours," muttered Locke, pointing the first two fingers of his left hand into the darkness. The Dagger of the Thirteenth, a thief's gesture against evil. "Your night is my cloak, my shield, my escape from those who hunt to feed the noose. I will fear no evil, for you have made the night my friend."

"Bless the Benefactor," said Jean, squeezing Locke's left forearm. "Peace and profit to his children.

Scott Lynch

Stichwörter: blessings peace children evil night profit protection thieves beneficence forearms wards



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That's a sweet piece," said Jean, briefly forgetting to be aggravated. "You didn't snatch that off a street."

"No," said Locke, before taking another deep draught of the warm water in the decanter. "I got it from the neck of the governor's mistress."

"You can't be serious."

"In the governor's manor."

"Of all the -"

"In the governor's bed."

"Damned lunatic!"

"With the governor sleeping next to her."

The night quiet was broken by the high, distant trill of a whistle, the traditional swarming noise of city watches everywhere. Several other whistles joined in a few moments later.

"It is possible," said Locke with a sheepish grin, "that I have been slightly too bold.

Scott Lynch

Stichwörter: humor



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When you don't know everything that you could know, it's a fine time to shut your fucking noisemaker and be polite.

Scott Lynch


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Difficult" and "impossible" are cousins often mistaken for one another, with very little in common.

Scott Lynch


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In the glass burrow beneath their feet, the flames began to rise. First the flames, and then the screams

Scott Lynch


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