The Crippled God (Malazan Book of the Fallen, #10)

by Steven Erikson

For the true visage of war, best turn to the snarling jaws of wolves.

Now comes the dark question. Who profits from this?

Is it not the one inescapable responsibility of an adult to protect and defend a child?

‘Armies bathe in blood,’ said Aranict. ‘That is the truth of it, isn’t it, Commander?’ ‘I fear we all bathe in it,’ he replied. ‘Cities permit us to hide from that bleak truth, I think.’ ‘What would it be like, I wonder, if we all ate only vegetables?’

‘We’d break all the land and the wild animals would have nowhere to live,’ Brys replied. ‘So we should see these domesticated beasts as sacrifices in the name of wildness.’ ‘You could,’ he said, ‘if it helps.’ ‘I’m not sure it does.’ ‘Nor am I.’

He strode to the base of the dais, eyeing the throne. ‘Needs a cushion or two, I should think, before you could hope to sit there for any length of time.’

Do not grieve. You have me, Grub. We have each other, and what could be more perfect than that?

Unwitnessed. I’ve heard about this, about what she told them. Unwitnessed…is what happens when nobody survives.

Shurq Elalle gathered herself, and said, ‘You have a singular way of ending a discussion, Jaghut.’

At five paces away they halted, and the clean-shaven marine was the first to speak. His eyes on the standard, he said, ‘So it’s true.’ Brys cleared his throat. ‘My brother the king—’ ‘Has no respect at all for the institutions of the military,’ said the marine, nodding. ‘Hood take me, for that reason alone I’d follow him anywhere.