Midnight Tides (Malazan Book of the Fallen, #5)

by Steven Erikson

It might have been sordid, under other circumstances. The critical part of herself could well have sneered at the contrivance, as if the only genuine gestures were the small ones, the ones devoid of an audience. As if true honesty belonged to solitude, since to be witnessed was to perform, and performance was inherently false since it invited expectation.

‘Hood’s balls,’ Iron Bars muttered. ‘When do we sail?’ Shurq Elalle shrugged. ‘As soon as they let us. And who is Hood?’ The white-skinned warrior replied distractedly, ‘The Lord of Death, and yes, he has balls.’ Everyone turned to stare at the warrior, who shrugged.