The Bonehunters (Malazan Book of the Fallen, #6)

by Steven Erikson

The Fist will have my tits on a fry pan for this.

‘That pup on the white horse is a fool. I could break him under one arm—’ ‘Yes, that likely would break him. And his army?’ ‘More fools. I am done speaking, witch. Witness.’

‘Lost that arm, but you don’t hear him whining and fussing and moaning.’ ‘No?’ ‘Of course not, he’s still unconscious.

My faith in the gods is this: they are indifferent to my suffering. Tomlos, Destriant of Fener

‘What if I told you I was pregnant?’ ‘I’d kill the mule.’

‘What do we do now?’ Filiad asked. ‘About what?’ ‘Well, everything, I guess.’ ‘Go home, Filiad.’ ‘Really? Oh. All right. I guess. See you later, then.’ ‘No doubt,’

‘Typical. Armies are run by fools. If I had an army you’d see things done differently. I can’t abide lazy soldiers. I’ve personally killed more lazy soldiers than enemies of the empire.

There was no dichotomy between war and peace – no true opposition except in their particular expressions of a ubiquitous inequity. Suffering was all-pervasive. Children starved at the feet of wealthy lords no matter how secure and unchallenged their rule.

Legana Breed spoke: ‘You are all marines?’ ‘Aye,’ Fiddler said. ‘Tonight, then, I too am a marine. Let us go kill people.’

He stepped to the entranceway, looked out, and saw Cotillion, the Patron of Assassins, the god, sitting on a shelf of stone that had slipped down from one wall, sitting, alone, with his head in his hands.