The Blacktongue Thief

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Only, being taught by the Thieves guild leaves you highly in debt and thus forced to do their dirty work for a pittance until your debt is paid off.

Uno quiere más de esta mierda. Final cerrado pero espero que el autor vuelva a este mundo y sus personajes. Kinch survives the fray, but then receives a surprising assignment when he reports to his Guild masters: he must accompany this scary, humorless and deadly woman, Galva, to the far province of Wostrim, where she intends to rescue a captured princess of her homeland, Ispanthia. The Takers want a part of the action resulting from this mission.If you’ve never fallen hard in love and lost your heart’s sovereign, go on and laugh at me. If you have, have a drink and dab an eye.”

A slightly bigger town, one with a full-time whore who doesn’t also brew beer or mend shirts, will have an Allgod church with a thatched roof and a bronze disc in a square of lead or iron, plus a proper temple to whichever local deity they feel will defecate least upon their hopeful, upturned faces.

New in Series

Do we already have a name for this new funny strand of grimdark? I've been reading a lot of cynical fantasy about competent people in a world that's permanently effed, but I haven't known what to call it. Snark fantasy? Snarky grimdark? Grimsnark? First off, as mentioned above, I delighted in this. I had fun from start to finish and really that is about the highest praise I can really give a book like this.

One of the most impressive novels I've read in a long time— clever, imaginative, and extremely well written."—Arthur Golden, New York Times bestselling author of Memoirs of a Geisha Dazzling. I heartily recommend this one.”―Robin Hobb, New York Timesbestselling author of the Farseer Trilogy As mentioned, Kinch’s personality—somewhat reminiscent to me of Marvel Comics’s Pip the Troll—is the engine behind the narrative and our enjoyment thereof. He freely admits to all his bad qualities, while often doing things only a better person would do. He’s horny, scabrous, irreverent—yet oftentimes philosophical, wistful and intellectually inquisitive. Paired with the sober and determined Galva, he assumes a parodic stature based on the classic mistress and liege relationship, as in C.J. Cherryh’s debut, Gate of Ivrel. Yet consider his melancholy and romantic paean to Norrigal that opens Chapter 40, to get a more well rounded sense of his nature.

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Not everyone in the tavern would be a cards player. A few sheepherders and root farmers faithful to the gods of sour frowns held down edgeward tables, talking low about rain and weevils, their never-washed woolens insulated with decades of hand-wiped meat grease. Two younger bravos near the bar had short copper cups at their belts, used in Towers to collect coin. Despite their swords, these fellows seemed leery of a trio of hard-looking older women clink-clinking away at Towers around a worm-bitten table. Only the strong, the rich, and the dying think truth is a necessity; the rest of us know it for a luxury.