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

by Scott Lynch

He’s got larceny in his heart, sure as the sea’s full of fish piss.

The Thiefmaker tried to let a vaguely sincere expression scurry onto his face, where it froze in evident discomfort. His shrug was theatrically casual.

“Please, boy. Let’s not start out with either of us insulting the other’s intelligence. There are only three people in life you can never fool—pawnbrokers, whores, and your mother. Since your mother’s dead, I’ve taken her place. Hence, I’m bullshit-proof.” Chains’ voice grew serious. “You know perfectly well why your former master would have cause to be displeased with you.” “He said I wasn’t … circumspect.” “Circumspect,” Chains repeated. “That’s a good word. And no, you’re not. He told me everything.”

“Besides, you’re an apprentice in a proud trade, learning under the finest and most demanding masters it has to offer. Getting all the shit-work is excellent for your moral education.” “You haven’t given me any bloody moral education.” “Yes. Well, that’s probably because Locke and I have been dodging our own for most of our lives now.

“Amazing.” Chains scratched his beard. “You know you don’t mumble and stutter quite so much when you’re explaining how you fucked someone over?” Locke blinked, then turned his chin up and stared hard at Chains. The older man laughed. “Wasn’t a criticism, son, and I didn’t mean to dam the flow. Keep the story coming.

“But you didn’t die.” “Clever lad,” said Chains, “to deduce that from such slender evidence after living with me for just three years.”

It was strange, how readily authority could be conjured with nothing but a bit of strutting jackassery.