The Warrior Prophet (The Prince of Nothing, #2)

by R. Scott Bakker

For what was a book if not a long consecutive surrender to the movements of another’s soul?

Doubt, he would say, set men free … Doubt, not truth! Beliefs were the foundation of actions. Those who believed without doubting, he would say, acted without thinking. And those who acted without thinking were enslaved.

“Wha-what will it be the next time I die? The Andi … Th-the Andiamine …” He tried to smile. “Akka,” she whispered. “I carry his child.” Whore after all.

Yesterday Esmenet had loved him. Just yesterday she’d begged him not to leave her, not to go to the Sareotic Library. For the rest of his life, he realized, it would always be yesterday.

“Thousands of years ago, before Men had crossed the Great Kayarsus, before even The Chronicle of the Tusk was written, the Nonmen ruled these lands. And like us, they warred amongst themselves, for honour, for riches, and yes, even for faith. But the greatest of their wars they fought, not against themselves, or even against our ancestors—though we would prove to be their ruin. The greatest of their wars they fought against the Inchoroi, a race of monstrosities. A race who exulted in the subtleties of the flesh, forging perversities from life the way we forge swords from iron. Sranc, Bashrag, even Wracu, dragons, are relics of their ancient wars against the Nonmen.

the Tekne, with the curiosity of monkeys. And most importantly—most tragically!—they discovered Mog-Pharau …