Something dug into the Bloody-Nine's back, but there was no pain. It was a sign. A message in a secret tongue, that only he could understand. It told him where the next dead man was standing.
Joe AbercrombieWe’ll see. Thanks for drawing your sword for me. I always had you down as a man to back the favourite.’
‘So did I. But for a moment up there you reminded me of your father.’ Pale-as-Snow planted his own boot on the wall beside Calder’s. ‘I remembered how it felt to follow a man I admire.’
Calder snorted. ‘I wouldn’t get used to that feeling.’
‘Don’t worry, it’s gone already.
I've been on jobs like that before, everyone stuck on the money not the work, watching their backs every minute. Bad for your health and your business. We'll do this civilised, or not at all. What do you say?
"I say civilised," said Shenkt. "For pity's sake, let's kill like honest men.
It's hard to stay calm when you're terrified, helpless, alone, at the mercy of men with no mercy at all.
Joe AbercrombieIn the valleys where I was born they say it is God’s sword, dropped from the heavens.’
‘Don’t you?’ asked Flood.
Whirrun rubbed some dirt from the crosspiece with his thumb. ‘I used too.’
‘Now?’
‘God makes things, no? God is a farmer. A craftsman. A midwife. God gives things life.’ He tipped his head back and looked up at the sky. ‘What would God want with a sword?
Tags: god-death
Better to have steel to hand and find no trouble than find yourself in trouble with no steel to hand.
Joe Abercrombiesay one thing for Logen Ninefinger, say he's a cunt.
Joe AbercrombieSavor the little moments, son, that's my advice. They're what life is. All the little things that happen while you're waiting for something else.
Joe AbercrombieSo we wait?” asked Severard.
“We wait, and we look to our defences. That and we try to find some money. Do you have any cash, Severard?”
“I did have some. I gave it to a girl, down in the slums.”
“Ah. Shame.”
“Not really, she fucks like a madman. I’d thoroughly recommend her, if you’re interested.”
Glokta winced as his knee clicked. “What a thoroughly heartwarming tale, Severard, I never had you down for a romantic. I’d sing a ballad if I wasn’t so short of funds.”
“I could ask around. How much are we talking about?”
“Oh, not much. Say, half a million marks?”
One of the Practical’s eyebrows went up sharply. He reached into his pocket, dug around for a moment, pulled his hand out and opened it. A few copper coins shone in his palm.
“Twelve bits,” he said. “Twelve bits is all I can raise.
Tags: humour
I used to love to hear stories of that man’s exploits! One of my heroes, when I was young. Riding round the enemy, harassing his lines of communication, falling on the baggage train and whatnot.”
The Prince’s riding crop rode around, harassed, and fell on imaginary baggage in the air before him.
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