Joe Abercrombie The First Law Trilogy -

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.

“I overtook you. There’s a difference. You move like a glacier with a grudge.” Glokta lowered himself onto a rock with a symphony of grunts. “The Arch Lector sends his regards. And a message. The Seed isn’t in the tomb. It never was. We’ve been chasing a ghost while the real prize walks into Adua wearing a different face.” joe abercrombie the first law trilogy

“You’re staring,” she said, not looking up. The mud had a name, but Logen Ninefingers

Scrape. Scrape. Scrape.

Logen stared into the fire. The flames flickered, and for just a moment, he saw a face in them. Bethod’s. Or the Bloody-Nine’s. Hard to tell the difference anymore. It sucked at his boots, it splattered his

“Evening, children,” said Sand dan Glokta, leaning on his cane. One leg dragged behind him like a regret. His smile was a razor wrapped in charm. “I see you’ve made camp in the least defensible spot within a mile. Excellent work. I’ve brought dinner.” He held up a dead rabbit by its ears. “Found it choking on its own stupidity. Reminded me of home.”

Ferro stopped sharpening. “Whose face?”