Dust of Dreams (Malazan Book of the Fallen, #9)

by Steven Erikson

The Adjunct was awkward in command and clumsy in courtesy, as if consistently distracted by some insurmountable obstacle.

He had long ago discovered that brazen lies could be uttered with impunity, because nothing would come of exposure—should that unlikely consequence ever occur—for even when such lies were indeed exposed, why, in a month or two the finger-pointers would wander off, distracted by something or someone else worthy of their facile outrage. A mien of proper belligerence could weather virtually anything his accusers might throw at him. As with so many battles on a multitude of fields, it was all a matter of nerve.