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How do you kill a Saint?
Falcio, Kest, and Brasti are about to find out, because someone has figured out a way to do it and they've started with a friend.
The Dukes were already looking for ways out of their agreement to put Aline on the throne, but with the Saints turning up dead, rumours are spreading that the Gods themselves oppose her ascension. Now churches are looking to protect themselves by bringing back the military orders of religious soldiers, assassins, and (especially) Inquisitors - a move that could turn the country into a theocracy. The only way Falcio can put a stop to it is by finding the murderer. He has only one clue: a terrifying iron mask which makes the Saints vulnerable by driving them mad. But even if he can find the killer, he'll still have to face him in battle.
And that may be a duel that no swordsman, no matter how skilled, can hope to win.
558 pages, Paperback
First published April 7, 2016
“How can anything good come from a place where all I can see are cruel, petty men ruling the world?”
“If not us, then who? Who’s going to stand when everyone kneels? Who’s going to argue for the law even when there’s no justice to be had? Who’s going to try even when the trying is too damned hard?”
“Rage won’t help you understand death, nor sorrow, and if there’s one thing the dead deserve, it is for their true story to be told.”
“Deato mendea valus febletta. The Gods give every man a weakness.”
“But no man is all one thing; none of us are pure in our beliefs or our devotions. We are all bound by the frailties of our humanity, some of which feed our hatred, some of which, very occasionally, make us want to be something better.”
“Nothing lasts for ever, Falcio. Not people, not castles, not even Gods.”
“When you read it, you will know that I loved you even before I was a man, and that you were my Queen even before you wore a crown. You will know that I have spent every day since I first met you trying to become a man worthy of your esteem, and if after finishing this letter you look up at me and smile, it will all have been worth it.”
My name is Falcio val Mond, First Cantor of the King's Greatcoats. Not long ago I was one of the finest swordsmen in the world.
These days? Not so much.
“Deato mendea valus febletta. The Gods give every man a weakness.”
"Every village needs an idiot,"
Truth is being buried under deception, faith drowned by fear.
Three broken men trying to pretend we can continue living in the past.
”So just answer me this: if you’re beside me, are my chances of failing more or less than they would be without you?”
-----------------------
“I can’t think of one reason why I’d want to hug you.”
“I can think of one.”
“Yeah? What would that be.”
“Because if you don’t get off your ass and stand up so that I can hug you, I’m going to kiss you right on the mouth.”
But no man is all one thing; none of us are pure in our beliefs or our devotions. We are all bound by the frailties of our humanity, some of which feed our hatred, some of which, very occasionally, make us want to be something better.
“You have met the King’s Heart and you have met the King’s Arrow,” Aline said to the leader of the Knights, then paused to wink at me. “Best that none of you try the King’s Patience.” […] I tried to smile back before she turned away, but I couldn’t: I was overwhelmed. Whatever these men had expected— whatever I had expected— Aline was something entirely different. Valiana had trained her these past months, she had nurtured her and helped her to find the strength I hadn’t believed she truly had.
“Let him go, Kest.”
“Really?” Kest asked, his left hand still firmly in control of Brasti’s fingers.
I pushed myself to sit up. “If you break his hand now then how am I going to enjoy the full satisfaction of tearing his fingers off later on?”
“Ah,” Kest said, and let go of him. “Good point.”
“Now wait a minute, Falcio . . .” Brasti began.
I smiled. “You’ll never know when, Brasti. Maybe tomorrow, maybe ten years from now . . .” I paused for a long moment, then said, “No, probably tomorrow.”
“This is what you do, you know,” Brasti called out.
“What’s that?”
“When you’re tired. When you’re scared. You throw yourself into fights you have no real chance of winning.”
I searched around for a clever reply but the truth was, Brasti had made a surprisingly insightful observation.
“You’re right,” I said.
“Then why keep doing it?” I stepped into the crowd.
“Because it’s the only thing I know how to do that ever works.”
“Deato mendea valus febletta. The Gods give every man a weakness.”
“Why is life so much easier to live when people are trying to take it from you than when you’re forced to actually live it?”
Another Greatcoats novel that delivers on all its promises. Saints Blood is a perfect example of fearless fantasy that is well written, funny and action-packed with diverse, real characters that you cannot help but love and hate and want more of.
Unfortunately, most of these problems seem to be originating through the nefarious machinations of an as of yet unknown enemy, someone operating in the shadows and refusing to reveal themselves. Thus it is a bit of struggle for our swashbuckling group of heroes & heroines to make any headway in the good fight and they seem to be losing all the small battles. Kest and Brasti have their own particular brand of crisis that they need to deal with, Valiana has her hands full with protecting the realm, and the man with the plans, Falcio, has been through so much pain and despair that he is just not the man he used to be.