The Trouble with Peace (The Age of Madness, #2)

by Joe Abercrombie

“Perhaps we could make some gesture. A minimum wage? Improved working conditions? I heard a recent fire in a mill led to the deaths of fifteen child workers—” “It would be folly,” said Bayaz,

The coordinator of the Union’s foreign policy had never yet failed to confuse complexity with insight.

Everyone nodded as though they had been treated to the most profound statement of all time. It was a wonder they did not rise and give a standing ovation. Orso was left in no doubt at which end of the table the power in the White Chamber truly lay. He remembered the look on his father’s face as Bayaz spoke. The fear. He made one more effort to claw his way towards his best guess at the right thing.

Your Majesty. Such concepts become… fluid. Justice cannot be stiff like iron, but… more of a jelly. It must mould itself. About the greater concerns.”

“Your Majesty, we are not here to set right all the world’s wrongs.” Orso stared back at him. “What are we here for, then?” Bayaz neither smiled nor frowned. “To ensure that we benefit from them.”

All tears are for oneself, in the end.

Rare anger can be inspiring. Frequent anger becomes contemptible.”

“The first weapon you bring to any fight ain’t a spear or an arrow or an axe.” Flick blinked at him. “Sword?” “Surprise,” said Clover. “Surprise makes brave men cowards, strong men weak, wise men fools.”

“Don’t think much o’ flowers myself,” said Sholla. “No?” “Never saw the point of ’em.” “They’ve got no point. That’s the point.”

“We’re all like children, Rikke. The older you get, the more you realise the grown-ups won’t suddenly walk in and set things right.

You want things right, you have to put ’em right yourself.” “With your bones and your brains, eh?” “And your heart, Rikke. And your heart.” She squeezed her father’s hands, so thin and crooked. “I worry they’ll wear you down.” “Me?” He gave a smile that was convincing no one. “Never.” “They already have.” He smiled again. Truer this time. “That’s what it is to be chief. You make the hard choices so your people won’t have the trouble of ’em.” He glanced about at the weed-choked beds as he stood, brushing off his knees. “One day I’ll tame this bloody garden, you’ll see. You just sit in the breeze, now.

“An Eater,” breathed Queen Terez. Orso made a point of never arguing with his mother. While watching a man rip into another with his teeth was no time to start.

Through the steady hiss in his ears, Orso could hear shouting. Sobbing of wounded. Cries for help. A breeze came up and kissed his sweaty face. Perhaps the future they were heading for was not quite the one that Curnsbick was selling. His knees felt very weak.

“It’s not so much what the welcome says about the guest as what it tells the guest about the host.”

If I’ve learned one thing, it’s that there’s rarely any need to wade into the bitter ocean for your vengeance. It’ll wash up on the shore soon enough.”

Her technique, which Orso had long admired, was to treat their mother as if she was being a tender and obliging parent regardless of her actual behaviour.