The Blade Itself (The First Law, #1)

by Joe Abercrombie

He’d been expecting something cleverer-looking, and a lot more beards.

Tell your father he must come himself. I do not waste my time on fools and younger sons. I am old fashioned in this. I like to talk to the horse’s head, not the horse’s arse.

Once Dow saw they were all against him he cracked a happy smile, just as if there never was a problem. “Fair enough,” he said to Threetrees, the anger all seeming to drain away in an instant. “What’s it to be then, chief?” Threetrees looked over at the woods. He sniffed and sucked at his teeth. He scratched at his beard, taking his moment to think on it. He looked each one of them over, considering. “We go south,” he said.