“Admiring gets your throat cut while you sleep.”
The mud had a name, but Logen Ninefingers couldn’t remember it. Didn’t matter. Mud was mud. It sucked at his boots, it splattered his coat, and if you fell in it face-first, it drowned you just the same as any other.
Ferro stopped sharpening. “Whose face?” joe abercrombie the first law trilogy
“You followed us,” said Logen.
Scrape. Scrape. Scrape.
Logen’s hand went to the Maker’s sword. The grip was cold. It always was. Ferro was already on her feet, knife reversed, a whisper of movement where there’d been a statue a heartbeat before.
Ferro snorted. Glokta laughed—a wet, joyless sound. “Admiring gets your throat cut while you sleep
“Say one thing for Logen Ninefingers,” Ferro muttered, returning to her blade. “Say he’s a fool who asks questions with obvious answers.”