By Brent Weeks
From New York Times bestselling writer Brent Weeks...
For Durzo Blint, assassination is an art-and he's the city's such a lot comprehensive artist.
For Azoth, survival is precarious. whatever you by no means take with no consideration. As a guild rat, he's grown up within the slums, and discovered to pass judgement on humans fast - and to take hazards. hazards like apprenticing himself to Durzo Blint.
But to be authorized, Azoth needs to flip his again on his outdated existence and embody a brand new id and identify. As Kylar Stern, he needs to learn how to navigate the assassins' global of risky politics and unusual magics - and domesticate an inherent ability for death.
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Extra resources for The Way of Shadows (Night Angel, Book 1)
Such theatre! ” I put as much sneer into my voice as I could muster. “Ah, you must be the physician who diagnosed the case. Your presence is no longer required. ” The magician stole forward. He was not garbed in the ﬂamboyant robes I’d expected, but in dark, close-ﬁtting garments, such as those worn by nomad warriors of the wilderness. ” “Now is not the time for illusions,” I said briskly. “We can all see the prince is gravely ill. ” “No,” said the magician, and for a brief moment his strange dark eyes burned with an amber spark.
Glam strode to the sausage-shaped bundle of fur, and tried to pick it up with one hand. Agnar was braced and ready. He made no sound and the fur did not move. Glam pulled harder, but Agnar braced his feet all the more ﬁrmly. He was sweating now. Glam grunted, and laid two hands on the bundle, and now a titanic struggle began, Glam hauling up, Agnar ﬁghting to push against the bench beam with all the strength of his muscle and sinew yet make no noise. But then Glam put his back into it and the old cloak tore in two.
You cannot contain me. You will return. You will call for me. You know you will. Like speaks to like. ” For some moments I considered his words, then I carefully placed the unconscious prince back on the ground. Arcaran was sitting amid the ﬂames of the ﬁre, the most beauteous sight I could imagine, the most treacherous. I lifted the lion’s-eye pendant in one hand and held it up before my face on its chain. “I will never be without you,” I purred. ” He grinned at me, conﬁdent. I dropped my jaw into a smile and spoke in a voice of command.
The Way of Shadows (Night Angel, Book 1) by Brent Weeks