He’d fallen twice already.
“You do.” Now she looked up. Her eyes were yellow slits, the color of old hatred. “Like a pig with a stone in its throat.”
“I overtook you. There’s a difference. You move like a glacier with a grudge.” Glokta lowered himself onto a rock with a symphony of grunts. “The Arch Lector sends his regards. And a message. The Seed isn’t in the tomb. It never was. We’ve been chasing a ghost while the real prize walks into Adua wearing a different face.” joe abercrombie the first law trilogy
“Say one thing for Logen Ninefingers,” Ferro muttered, returning to her blade. “Say he’s a fool who asks questions with obvious answers.”
A twig snapped in the dark.
The fire was a spiteful, spitting thing, choked by a drizzle that wouldn’t decide if it was rain or just the world sweating. Across the flames, Ferro Maljinn sat sharpening her knife. Scrape. Scrape. Scrape. The sound was the only rhythm in a world that had forgotten how to dance.
Scrape. Scrape. Scrape.
The Debt of a Failed Knife