The Lies of Locke Lamora (Gentleman Bastard, #1)

by Scott Lynch

Should anyone, a slaver, for example, dare to set a hand on one of my Shades’ Hill boys or girls, well, the consequences would be immediate and gratifyingly, ahhh, merciless.’ When none of his newcomers seemed appropriately enthusiastic, the Thiefmaker cleared his throat. ‘I’d have the miserable fucking bastards killed. Savvy?’ They were indeed.

LMFAO

The boy mulled this over for a few seconds. ‘You mean,’ he said in a high thin voice, ‘that you want us to steal things.’

Wait he's precious

‘You lifted these from the fucking city watch? From the yellowjackets?’ Locke nodded, more enthusiastically. ‘They picked us up and carried us.’ ‘Gods,’ the Thiefmaker whispered. ‘Oh, gods. You may have just fucked us all superbly, Locke-after-your-father Lamora. Quite superbly indeed.’

Interesting......

But nobody, and I mean nobody, has ever been hungry for it like this boy. If he had a bloody gash across his throat and a physiker was trying to sew it up, Lamora would steal the needle and thread and die laughing. He . . . steals too much.’

WAIT THIS IS SO FUNNY

‘My attendant will be along any moment,’ Locke/Fehrwight said as he/they stepped aboard the barge, ‘his name is Graumann, and he too suffers from a slight case of being imaginary.’ ‘Merciful gods,’ said Calo, ‘it must be catching.’

This is too funny

This time, the swift dark shape that flitted silently from rooftop to rooftop in their wake went entirely unnoticed.

Ominous af

‘Fuckdamn,’ said Conté, totally unable to help himself when the sums involved vanished over his mental horizon. ‘Beg pardon, Doña Sofia.’ ‘You should.’ She drained her snifter in one quick un-ladylike gulp. ‘Your calculations are off. This merits a triple fuckdamn at the very least.’

LOLLLLL

‘Unbelievable! Taken in so fast, by such a simple trick. Well, my father used to say that one moment of misjudgement at the Revel is worth ten at any other time.’ Locke bowed deeply to her, taking one hand and kissing it. ‘I doubt him not at all, Doña Sofia. Not at all.’ Smiling amiably, he bowed to her once more, then turned to shake hands with her husband.

Incredible

At last the ritual came to Bug; the boy raised his glass a bit shakily and yelled, ‘I only steal because it’s heaps of fucking fun!’ ‘BASTARD!’

I actually love them omg

‘We toast absent friends who helped to bring us to where we are now. We do miss them.’ Locke set the little glass to his lips and took a minuscule sip before he set it back down. ‘And we love them still,’ he said quietly.

OH HE'S A YEARNER LADS. WORDS CANNOT DESCRIBE HOW HAPPY I AM ABOUT THIS

‘It’s a fine idea,’ Locke said, adjusting his tie. ‘We’re Midnighters. We’re full of ourselves. What sort of self-respecting spy would break into a manor house in darkest night wearing green, or orange, or white?’

YOU'RE JOKINGGGGGGG

‘So I don’t have to—’ ‘Obey the Secret Peace? Be a good little pezon? Only for pretend, Locke. Only to keep the wolves from the door. Unless your eyes and ears have been stitched shut with rawhide these past two days, by now you must have realised that I intend you and Calo and Galdo and Sabetha to be nothing less,’ Chains confided through a feral grin, ‘than a fucking ballista bolt right through the heart of Vencarlo’s precious Secret Peace.’

HELL YEAH

‘Nineteen thousand,’ said Bug, ‘nine hundred and twenty. That’s all of it. Can I please kill myself now?’

BUG SMKFDJGJDJSDFG

‘Oh.’ Locke sat up, groaning. ‘I didn’t . . . I didn’t know.’ ‘Well, then.’ Chains finally succeeded in prying open the honey-crock; the wax seal split with an audible crack. ‘When you don’t know everything you could know, it’s a fine time to shut your fucking noisemaker and be polite.’

Amen

‘That sounds dangerous,’ said Jean. ‘For anyone else, maybe. For Gentlemen Bastards, well, it’s just what we do.’ ‘We?’ ‘We.’

THE POWER OF FRIENDSHIP

‘Your honour,’ said Locke, ‘what’s going on?’ ‘He killed her. The son of a bitch killed her, Locke.’ ‘What?’ ‘He killed Nazca. Last night. Left us . . . the body, just a few hours ago.’

NOOOOOO

He withdrew then, leaving the Capa standing in the bloody morning light, leaving him all alone at the heart of his fortress, for the second time, with nothing but a corpse for company.

This is so damn sad

‘It’s just something I heard from one of the Sanzas.’ ‘One of the Sanzas? Which one?’ ‘Couldn’t say. They’re so hard to tell apart in the dark.’ ‘I’m going to cut their gods-damned tongues out.’ ‘Oh, tsk.’ She ruffled his hair. ‘Please don’t. Us girls have a use for those, at least.’ ‘Hmmmph.’ ‘You poor, sweet idiot. You do have it bad for her. Well, what can I say, Locke? You’re fucked.’ Felice laughed softly. ‘Just not by me.’

This is so witty i'm obsessed

Locke sipped hesitantly, then tilted the cup back and poured it down his throat in one smooth series of gulps. ‘Actually not bad at all. Tastes minty, very refreshing.’ ‘A worthy epitaph,’ said Jean, taking the cup.

JEAN PLEASE

‘Jean,’ he gasped out during a brief lull between spasms of retching, ‘next time I conceive a plan like this, consider planting a hatchet in my skull.’ ‘Hardly efficacious.’ Jean swapped a full bucket for an empty one and gave Locke a friendly pat on the back. ‘Dulling my nice sharp blades on a skull as thick as yours . . .’

I love them your honour

Calo and Galdo lay beside it, on their backs, staring up in the semi-darkness. Their throats were slashed from ear to ear, a pair of smooth gashes – identical twin wounds.

NOOOOO. OH MY GOD I'M KILLING MYSELF

The bolt that was meant to catch Bug between the eyes took him in the neck instead.

I AM GOING TO LOSE IT

‘You brave little idiot. You brave, stupid little bastard. This is my fault, Bug, please . . . please say this is all my fault.’ ‘No,’ whispered Bug. ‘Oh gods . . . hurts . . . hurts so much . . .’ The boy’s breathing stopped while Locke held him. He said nothing more.

I'm dead inside

‘When you see the Crooked Warden,’ said Locke, twisting something in his hands, ‘tell him that Locke Lamora learns slowly, but he learns well. And when you see my friends, you tell them that there are more of you on the way.’

BARS

The Berangias sister to the right looked down at the shark, shifted her weight fluidly to a fighting stance, raised her gleaming axe, and whirled with all the strength of her upper body behind the blow. Her blade smashed Pachero Barsavi’s head just above his left ear; the tall man’s optics flew off and he staggered forward, his skull caved in, dead before his knees hit the deck.

THEY'RE TRAITORS OMFG.......

The Grey King stood between the Berangias sisters, and it was now plain to Locke’s eyes that they were siblings – very nearly triplets.

HUHHHHH

Locke toyed with one of the ends of his false moustache as he watched the waiter go, and then he turned around and lost himself in the crowds. The sun was pouring down light and heat with its usual intensity, and Locke was sweating hard inside his fine new clothes, but for a few moments he let a satisfied smirk creep onto his face.

Locke Lamora you utter fucking genius

‘Did you like our work, in your little glass cellar?’ The sister on the left spoke now. ‘Your two friends, the Sanza twins. Twins done in by twins, same wounds to the throat, same pose on the floor. Seemed appropriate.’ ‘Appropriate?’ Jean felt new anger building like pressure at the back of his skull. He ground his teeth together. ‘Mark my words, bitch. I’ve been wondering how I’d feel when this moment finally came, and I have to say, I think I’m going to feel pretty fucking good.’

TEAR THEM TO SHREDS JEAN!!!!!

‘You won’t be sorry, Lukas,’ said Doña Sofia. ‘I’m sure we’ll all think back very fondly on the feast when we begin our voyage.’

Oh we're so cooked

‘You’re bleeding hard, Tannen. You won’t live out the night, you fucking bastard.’ ‘That’s Gentleman Bastard,’ he said. ‘And there’s a chance I won’t. But you know what? Calo and Galdo Sanza are laughing at you, bitch.’ He wound up his left arm and let his remaining hatchet fly, a true throw this time, with all the strength and hatred he could put behind it. The blade struck home right between the Berangias sister’s eyes; with the most incredible expression of surprise on her face she fell forward, sprawled like a torn-apart rag doll.

YEAHHHHHHH

In the darkened holds beneath the ship’s upper deck, another three dozen men and women ate a large meal, to have their stomachs full when the time for action came. There wasn’t an invalid among them – not so much as an ague fever.

I fucking knew it. Something fishy is going on

And, speaking of pyramids, another one of the lovely pyramid sculptures had been set out here, a few feet to the right of the bar, behind one of the velvet ropes.

Those sculptures are bad news, I just know it

He punched her square in the teeth, a whirling right that would have been comical had he thrown it against a younger, fitter woman. But it snapped Doña Vorchenza’s head back; her eyes rolled up and she buckled at the knees. Locke caught her as she toppled, carefully plucking the vial from her fingers as he did so.

LMAOOOOOO HE REALLY SAID FUCK THE ELDERLY

‘I am the Idiot King,’ he muttered, ‘of all the world’s fucking idiots.’

He's so me-coded

It was perhaps the sixth hour of the evening when he returned to the hovel, bursting through the curtained door, yelling as he came – ‘Jean, we have one hell of a fucking problem . . .’ The Falconer stood in the centre of the little room, smirking at Locke, his hand folded before him. Locke took in the tableau in a split second: Ibelius slumped motionless against the far wall, and Jean at the Bondsmage’s feet, writhing in pain.

CAN THIS DUDE DIE ALREADY JFC

Locke pushed himself up and raised the hatchet; he bellowed wordlessly. He swung up with the heavy ball of the hatchet; the blow struck home right between the Falconer’s legs. The silver thread and the parchment fluttered from the Bondsmage’s hands as he gasped and fell forward, clutching at his groin.

FUCK YEAHHHHHHHH

The blade of Jean’s hatchet whistled down, severing the Bondsmage’s little finger of his left hand. The Falconer screamed. ‘That’s Nazca,’ said Locke. ‘Remember Nazca?’ He swung down again; the ring finger rolled in the dirt, and blood spurted. ‘That’s Calo,’ said Locke. Another swing, and the middle finger was gone. The Falconer writhed and pulled at his bonds, whipping his head from side to side in agony. ‘Galdo, too. Are these names familiar, Master Bondsmage? These little footnotes to your fucking contract? They were awfully real to me. Now this finger coming up – this one’s Bug. Actually, Bug probably should have been the little finger, but what the hell.’ The hatchet fell again; the index finger of the Falconer’s left hand joined its brethren in bloody exile.

THIS IS SO SUPREMELY SATISFYING

The Bondsmage stared at him, his lips quivering. ‘Please,’ he whispered at last, ‘have pity, for the gods’ sakes, have pity; my order exists to serve – I was carrying out a contract.’ ‘When that contract became my friends,’ said Locke, ‘you exceeded your mandate.’

MWAHAHAHAHA

‘Gods damn it,’ said Jean. ‘Gods damn it; he’s the captain of the Satisfaction.’ ‘Yes, the so-called plague ship,’ said the Falconer. ‘Odd how easy it is to keep people away from your ship when you really want to, isn’t it?’ ‘He’s been sending his fortune out to it as ‘‘charitable provisions’’ said Jean. ‘It must be all the money he stole from us, and everything he took from Capa Barsavi.’

Omfg.....

‘Before he hired me, Anatolius spent part of his considerable fortune on securing large amounts of a rare substance.’ ‘No more games, Falconer – what the hell is it?’ ‘Wraithstone.’

HE'S GOING TO TURN THEM ALL INTO VEGETABLES

Locke shook hands with Jean, stepped to the doorway, and turned back. ‘Cut this bastard’s fucking tongue out.’ ‘You promised,’ yelled the Falconer. ‘You promised!’ ‘I didn’t promise you shit. My dead friends, on the other hand – I made them certain promises.’

HELL YEAH. That mf deserves no mercy after the things he's done

‘But you could have settled for simple theft,’ said Locke. ‘I would have given it all to keep Calo and Galdo and Bug alive. I would have given it all, had you put it to me like that.’ ‘What thief does not fight to hold what he has?’ ‘One that has something better,’ said Locke.

God :( HIS FRIENDS

The Grey King shuddered one last time and died, his wide white eyes still fixed on Locke’s. ‘Bug,’ Locke whispered. ‘His real name was Bertilion Gadek. My apprentice. My brother. And my friend.’ His strength failed, and he slid down over the Grey King’s corpse. ‘My friend.’

MANNNNNN.

‘Oh gods. Anatolius killed three of his friends. So don’t you see? There was no danger on that ship; he didn’t want it sunk to save Camorr. It was a death-offering, Stephen, a death-offering.’

Genius. Fucking GENIUS

Locke sighed. ‘So this is winning,’ he said. ‘It is,’ replied Jean. ‘It can go fuck itself,’ said Locke.

I love you Locke Lamora