The Gentleman Bastard Series 3-Book Bundle: The Lies of Locke Lamora, Red Seas Under Red Skies, The Republic of Thieves

AT THE HEIGHT of the long wet summer of the Seventy-seventh Year of Sendovani, the
Thiefmaker of Camorr paid a sudden and unannounced visit to the Eyeless Priest at
the Temple of Perelandro, desperately hoping to sell him the Lamora boy.

“Have I got a deal for you!” the Thiefmaker began, perhaps inauspiciously.

“Another deal like Calo and Galdo, maybe?” said the Eyeless Priest. “I’ve still got
my hands full training those giggling idiots out of every bad habit they picked up
from you and replacing them with the bad habits I need.”

“Now, Chains.” The Thiefmaker shrugged. “I told you they were shit-flinging little
monkeys when we made the deal, and it was good enough for you at the—”

“Or maybe another deal like Sabetha?” The priest’s richer, deeper voice chased the
Thiefmaker’s objection right back down his throat. “I’m sure you recall charging me
everything but my dead mother’s kneecaps for her. I should’ve paid you in copper and
watched you spring a rupture trying to haul it all away.”

“Ahhhhhh, but she was special, and this boy, he’s special, too,” said the Thiefmaker.
“Everything you asked me to look for after I sold you Calo
and Galdo. Everything you liked so much about Sabetha! He’s Camorri, but a mongrel.
Therin and Vadran blood with neither dominant. He’s got larceny in his heart, sure
as the sea’s full of fish piss. And I can even let you have him at a … a discount.”

The Eyeless Priest spent a long moment mulling this. “You’ll pardon me,” he finally
said, “if the suggestion that the minuscule black turnip you call a heart is suddenly
overflowing with generosity toward me leaves me wanting to arm myself and put my back
against a wall.”

The Thiefmaker tried to let a vaguely sincere expression scurry onto his face, where
it froze in evident discomfort. His shrug was theatrically casual. “There are, ah,
problems with the boy, yes. But the problems are unique to his situation in my care.
Were he under yours, I’m sure they would, ahhhh, vanish.”

“Oh. You have a
magic
boy. Why didn’t you say so?” The priest scratched his forehead beneath the white
silk blindfold that covered his eyes. “
Magnificent
. I’ll plant him in the fucking ground and grow a vine to an enchanted land beyond
the clouds.”

“Ahhhhh! I’ve tasted that flavor of sarcasm before, Chains.” The Thiefmaker gave an
arthritic mock bow. “
That’s
the sort you spit out as a bargaining posture. Is it really so hard to say that you’re
interested?”

The Eyeless Priest shrugged. “Suppose Calo, Galdo, and Sabetha might be able to use
a new playmate, or at least a new punching bag.
Suppose
I’m willing to spend about three coppers and a bowl of piss for a mystery boy. But
you’ll still need to convince me that you deserve the bowl of piss. What’s the boy’s
problem?”

“His problem,” said the Thiefmaker, “is that if I can’t sell him to you, I’m going
to have to slit his throat and throw him in the bay. And I’m going to have to do it
tonight
.”