Half a King (Shattered Sea, #1)

by Joe Abercrombie

“There can be no peace with the damn Vanstermen,”

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“Gods damn this thing!” Yarvi tugged the straps loose, dragged the shield from his withered arm and flung it away among the sea-chests the men sat on while they rowed. “My king,” said Keimdal. “You should keep your shield. It’s not safe—” “You’ve fought me. You know what my shield’s worth. If someone comes at me I can’t stop with sword alone I’m better off running. I’ll run faster without my shield.”

The first thing a minister learns is to recognize power. To read the glances, and the stances, the movements and tones of voice that mark the followers from the leader. Why waste time on underlings, after all?

“What brings you five to Vansterland?” “We are travelers …” said Yarvi, as he watched one of the warriors shake out the sorry contents of his pack. “On our way to Vulsgard.” The archer raised his brows at the pyre. “Travelers burning corpses?” “What is the world coming to when an honest man cannot burn corpses without suspicion?”

All that matters is that you have come back to me.” “Thanks to these four,” said Yarvi, swallowing sour spit. Yarvi’s mother swept his companions with her searching gaze. “You all have my thanks.” “It was nothing,” grunted Nothing, eyes locked to the floor, face hidden behind his tangle of hair. “My honor,” said Jaud, bowing his head. “We couldn’t have made it without him,” muttered Rulf. “He was a sore pain in my arse every mile,” said Sumael. “If I had it to do again I’d leave him in the sea.”