Last Argument of Kings (The First Law)
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The final novel in the First Law Trilogy by New York Times bestseller Joe Abercrombie.
With too many masters and too little time, Superior Glokta is fighting a different kind of war. A secret struggle in which no one is safe, and no one can be trusted. As his days with a sword are far behind him, it's fortunate that he's deadly with his remaining weapons: blackmail, threats, and torture.
Jezal dan Luthar has decided that winning glory is too painful an undertaking and turned his back on soldiering for a simple life with the woman he loves. But love can be painful too -- and glory has a nasty habit of creeping up on a man when he least expects it.
The king of the Union lies on his deathbed, the peasants revolt, and the nobles scramble to steal his crown. No one believes that the shadow of war is about to fall across the heart of the Union. Only the First of the Magi can save the world, but there are risks. There is no risk more terrible, than to break the First Law...
The Blade Itself
Before They Are Hanged
Last Argument of Kings
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Novels in the First Law world
Best Served Cold
and the giant’s cold arms squeezed tighter. Dogman followed his nose. It rarely led him wrong, his nose, and he hoped to hell that it didn’t fail him now. It was a sickly kind of a smell - like sweet cakes left too long in the oven. He led the others along an empty hallway, down a shadowy stair, creeping through the damp darkness in the knotty bowels of Skarling’s Hill. He could hear something now, as well as smell it, and it sounded as bad as it smelled. A woman’s voice, singing soft and
sending her back to me.’ From very bad to an awful lot worse. ‘A miscalculation on my part, your Eminence. I thought that I would spare you the trouble of—’ ‘Disposing of traitors is no trouble for me. You know that.’ Angry creases spread out around Sult’s hard blue eyes. ‘Could it be, after all we have been through together, you might take me for a fool?’ Glokta’s voice rasped uncomfortably in his dry throat. ‘Absolutely not, Arch Lector.’ Merely a lethal megalomaniac. He knows. He
myself—’ ‘Where?’ The Magus shrugged. ‘South, I would imagine. Vengeance, or some such, if I was forced to guess. She always said a very great deal about vengeance. A most ill-tempered woman.’ ‘She is changed.’ ‘Great events, my friend. None of us are quite the same. Now, will you take tea?’ The servant pranced forward, silver tray bobbing. Logen seized him by his velvet jacket and flung him across the room. He squealed as he crashed into the wall and sprawled on the carpet, cups
same box that had followed Jezal, and Logen, and Ferro in a cart across half the Circle of the World. What happy days those seemed now. Bayaz stopped, suddenly, turned, raised his head. He looked up, straight towards the window. Jezal pressed himself into the hangings with a whimper of terror, his whole body trembling, the after-image of that unbearable pain still stamped, cold as ice, into his guts. The First of the Magi stood there for a moment longer, the faintest hint of a smile on his
into others, send a couple reeling. More fell, screeching as shafts flitted down into them, but there were plenty behind, sliding into the ditch, swarming over each other. They crushed up to the wall, spreading out down its length, a few of them hurling spears up at the men on top, or shooting clumsy arrows. Now they were starting to climb, claws digging into pitted stone, hauling themselves up, and up. Slow across most of the wall, and getting torn off by rocks and arrows from above. Quicker