Mark Lawrence
PROLOGUE
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
THIRTY
THIRTY-ONE
THIRTY-TWO
THIRTY-THREE
THIRTY-FOUR
THIRTY-FIVE
THIRTY-SIX
Mark Lawrence
The Liar's Key
PROLOGUE
Two men in a room of many doors. One tall in his robes, stern, marked with cruelty and intelligence, the other shorter, very lean, his hair a shock of surprise, his garb a changing motley confusing the eye.
The short man laughs, a many-angled sound as likely to kill birds in flight as to bring blossom to the bough.
“I have summoned you!” The tall man, teeth gritted as if still straining to hold the other in place, though his hands are at his side.
“A fine trick, Kelem. ”
“You know me?”
“I know everyone. ” A sharp grin. “You’re the door-mage. ”
“And you are?”
“Ikol. ” His clothes change, tattered yellow checks on blue where before it was scarlet fleur de lis on grey. “Olik. ” He smiles a smile that dazzles and cuts. “Loki, if you likey. ”
“Are you a god, Loki?” No humour in Kelem, only command. Command and a great and terrible concentration in stone-grey eyes.
“No. ” Loki spins, regarding the doors. “But I’ve been known to lie. ”
“I called on the most powerful-”
“You don’t always get what you want. ” Almost sing-song. “But sometimes you get what you need. You got me. ”
“You are a god?”
“Gods are dull. I’ve stood before the throne. Wodin sits there, old one-eye, with his ravens whispering into each ear. ” Loki smiles. “Always the ravens. Funny how that goes. ”
“I need-”
“Men don’t know what they need.
They barely know what they want. Wodin, father of storms, god of gods, stern and wise. But mostly stern. You’d like him. And watching-always watching-oh the things that he has seen!” Loki spins to take in the room. “Me, I’m just a jester in the hall where the world was made. I caper, I joke, I cut a jig. I’m of little importance. Imagine though. . if it wereKelem frowns at this nonsense, then with a quick shake of his head returns to his purpose. “I made this place. From my failures. ” He gestures at the doors. Thirteen, lined side by side on each wall of an otherwise bare room. “These are doors I can’t open. You can leave here, but no door will open until every door is unlocked. I made it so. ” A single candle lights the chamber, dancing as the occupants move, their shadows leaping to its tune.
“Why would I want to leave?” A goblet appears in Loki’s hand, silver and overflowing with wine as dark and red as blood. He takes a sip.
“I command you by the twelve arch-angels of-”