The Lies of Locke Lamora

Table of Contents


Prologue: The Boy Who Stole Too Much

I: Ambition Chapter One: The Don Salvara Game

Interlude: Locke Explains

Chapter Two: Second Touch at the Teeth Show

Interlude: Locke Stays for Dinner

Chapter Three: Imaginary Men

Interlude: The Last Mistake

II: Complication Chapter Four: At The Court of Capa Barsavi

Interlude: The Boy Who Cried for a Corpse

Chapter Five: The Gray King

Interlude: Jean Tannen

Chapter Six: Limitations

Interlude: Brat Masterpieces

Chapter Seven: Out the Window

Interlude: Up the River

Chapter Eight: The Funeral Cask

Interlude: The Half-Crown War

III: Revelation Chapter Nine: A Curious Tale for Countess Amberglass

Interlude: The Schoolmaster of Roses

Chapter Ten: Teeth Lessons

Interlude: The Tale of the Old Handball Players

Chapter Eleven: At the Court of Capa Raza

Interlude: The Lady of the Long Silence

IV: Desperate Improvisation Chapter Twelve: The Fat Priest From Tal Verrar

Interlude: The White Iron Conjurers

Chapter Thirteen: Orchids and Assassins

Chapter Fourteen: Three Invitations

Interlude: The Daughters of Camorr

Chapter Fifteen: Spiderbite

Interlude: The Throne in Ashes

Chapter Sixteen: Justice Is Red

Interlude: A Minor Prophecy

Epilogue: Falselight


For Jenny, this little world that was blessed to have you peeking over my shoulder while it took shape—

Love always.


The Boy Who Stole Too Much


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